Sizhu Instrumental Music of South China Sinica Leidensia

Edited by Barend J. ter Haar

In co-operation with P.K. Bol, D.R. Knechtges, E.S. Rawski, W.L. Idema, E. Zürcher, H.T. Zurndorfer

VOLUME 84 Sizhu Instrumental Music of South China

Ethos, Theory and Practice

By Alan R. Thrasher

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2008 On the cover: Hakka qingyue ensemble, Guangzhou. Photo: A. Thrasher, 1986.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

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CONTENTS

Preface ...... ix Conventions ...... xv Acknowledgments ...... xvii

Chapter One Sizhu Music in South China ...... 1 Music Categories: Sizhu as a Domain ...... 2 Music Cultures of South China ...... 6 Social Perspectives ...... 21

Chapter Two Yuelun: the Confucian Foundation ...... 25 Confucian Ideology ...... 25 Government Theory and Music ...... 37 Other Trends ...... 44

Chapter Three Qingshang Music and the Historic Legacy ...... 53 The Ancient Heritage ...... 54 The Eclectic Tang ...... 61 Emergence of the Common-practice Traditions ...... 65

Chapter Four Yuelü: Music Theory and Practice ...... 75 Chinese Melody ...... 75 Pitch Systems and Notation ...... 83 Mode in Southern Music ...... 95

Chapter Five Baban and the Sizhu Repertoire ...... 113 Sizhu Repertoire ...... 113 The ‘Variation’ Ideal in Compositional Practice ...... 124 The Suite Forms ...... 136

Chapter Six Bianzou: Performance Practice and Aesthetics ... 149 ‘Variation’ in Performance Practice ...... 149 Performance Variation Types ...... 153 Values and Aesthetics: the Rujia Ideal ...... 163 Ideologies and Styles ...... 170 viii contents

Postscript ...... 173

Appendix A: Gongche Notation System and Selected Repertoire 179

Appendix B: Cipher Notation System and Selected Repertoire 185

Glossary of Chinese Technical Terms and Repertoire ...... 201

Bibliography ...... 205

Index ...... 213 PREFACE

In this book I examine the theoretical underpinnings of the sizhu (‘silk- bamboo’) instrumental ensemble traditions of the peoples of South China. Sizhu, a very general domain term in Chinese usage, refers to a category of chamber music performed by small ensembles in homes, music clubs or teahouses. I will carefully defi ne this and related terms in the opening chapters. The dominant cultures of southern and southeastern China—Chao- zhou, Hakka, Cantonese and Minnan—share a number of behavioral and musical concepts, though their individual sizhu traditions exhibit distinctive melodic characteristics, performance styles, overall forms and musical instrument variants. The Chaozhou, Hakka and Cantonese cultures are centered in Guangdong province, the Minnan in southern Fujian (q.v. map, Fig. 1.1). Among the Chaozhou, Hakka and Cantonese there has been considerable musical interaction over the recent centuries and, to a lesser extent, with the more northern Jiangnan tradition in eastern China—though musicians rarely recognize such cross infl uences. Analysis shows, however, that these three cultures have drawn upon a common pool of traditional melodic models. They have also exchanged instruments, modal forms and some structural characteristics. The Minnan, while culturally related to the Chaozhou in linguistic and other ways, maintain a highly idiosyncratic tradition which musicians believe was derived from a sophisticated genre of palace music from the distant past. Minnan chamber music (nanguan) displays only superfi cial structural similarities with the other southern traditions. These characteristics will be cited along the way. But since the Min- nan repertoire itself is not closely related to the southern mainstream in Guangdong province, my examination will center on the core of Chaozhou, Hakka and Cantonese traditions. My focus in this book is upon two theoretical domains of musical relevance: fi rst, Confucian theory, the ancient corpus of written and practiced behavioral doctrine (ethos) which promoted music as a means to achieve social harmony and which, in turn, exercised unusually strong infl uence over common-practice musical style and aesthetics; and second, music theory, an overlapping combination of imperial court pitch theory and more recent Chinese modal and structural x preface theory, much of which is related to (even derived from) Confucian theory. Other musical parameters, including idiom and performance practice, will be examined as well, but primarily as they relate to the above theoretical focus. This is not an ethnographic study. I have in fact conducted a good amount of fi eldwork in South China over a period of three decades, documenting questions of social organization in the music clubs, gender roles, values and function. Some basic social observations will be mentioned but, again, in attempt to contextualize theory and practice.

Organization and Approach This material is organized in six chapters and followed by a postscript. Chapter One, “Sizhu Music in South China”, begins with an outline of the basic categories of Chinese instrumental music and its often troublesome terminology. This is followed by an overview of the distinctive cultural characteristics and musical genres of South China. Chapter Two, entitled “Yuelun: the Confucian Foun- dation”, examines the dominant Chinese ideologies and their impact on music. For most of the last two thousand years, the Confucian infl uence on social behavior and expressive culture has been deeper than commonly assumed, and there is strong evidence of the existence, promotion and acceptance of an actual Confucian theory of music. Especially interesting are the differing perceptions among local cultures as to exactly what this infl uence has been. Chapter Three, “Qingshang Music and the Historic Legacy”, provides an historical sketch of the development of Chinese chamber music types and instruments—a history of both continuity and change over nearly two millennia. Can the local traditions really be traced back to the legendary qingshang music and other Tang genres, as some scholars believe? Chapters Four and Five are of a technical nature, containing a necessary core of structural analysis. Chapter Four, “Yuelü: Music Theory and Practice”, deals with traditional concepts of pitch, notably the ancient cosmologically-correct pitch theories (lülü) and modal forms, their relevance in today’s music, and a re-evaluation of modal systems in common-practice music. The chapter begins with an examination of the structural parameters of Chinese melody, in which diverse cultural infl uences merge. Chapter Five, “Baban and the Sizhu Repertoire”, examines the very old Chinese usage of melodic models—especially the 68-beat form known as Baban, its numerological basis, and the subsequent growth from this and other models of the southern instrumental repertoires by way of several derivative techniques. Prevailing preface xi suite-form types are discussed at the end of the chapter. Chapter Six, “Bianzou: Performance Practice and Aesthetics”, is focused upon issues arising from performance, including local concepts of heterophony, sound ideals and aesthetics—most of which derive from a fusion of Confucian ideology, Daoist creative impulses, and local tastes. A Postscript will bring the reader up to date on some of the basic changes the southern chamber traditions have undergone within the recent half century.

Repertoire and Recordings I have chosen to examine repertoire which the local southern cultures consider standard and representative. For the Chaozhou, this repertoire includes Hanya Xishui (“Winter ravens playing in the water”), Da Baban (“Great eight beat”) and Liuqing Niang (“Lady Liu Qing”); for the Hakka, Xixiang Ci (“Poem of the west chamber”), Xunfeng Qu (“Balmy breeze melody”) and Chushui Lian (“Emerging lotus blossoms”); for the Cantonese, Hantian Lei (“Thunder in the drought”), Shuangxing Hen (“Regret of the double stars”) and Pinghu Qiuyue (“Autumn moon on the peaceful lake”). This repertoire is well represented on historic and recent recordings. For Chaozhou music, in addition to a number of individual recordings noted in Chapter Six, the “Anthology of Traditional and Folk Music” is particularly recommended. This series, issued by the China Record Corporation during the 1990s, contains over half a dozen CDs devoted to Chaozhou music, all with background notes in Chinese and English. Volume 3 on ‘string-poem music’ (CCD-93/251) and Volume 7 on ‘elegant music’ (CCD-93/255) are of relevance to this study. For Cantonese music, eight CDs in the same “Anthology” series include many historic recordings of instrumental music, notably Volume 3 (CCD-92/181). Recordings of Hakka music are not so readily available, though several individual recordings are cited in the text. Most repertoire examples presented here can be heard on the CD, “Sizhu: Chamber Music of South China” (PAN Records, 2030CD). These recordings were made by myself between 1986 and 1996, mostly on the Chinese mainland. While this CD is not a companion recording, its examples do complement the music analyses in the various chapters of the book. Other commercially available recordings are cited throughout.

The Functionalist Thread It has been nearly half a century since Alan Lomax (1915–2002) researched and published his ambitious and controversial theory known as ‘cantometrics’ (1962, 1968). Drawing upon xii preface the anthropological theories of functionalism, Lomax attempted to demonstrate that folksong styles of selected world cultures are functionally refl ective of the beliefs of those cultures, and that this deep relationship can be shown scientifi cally by isolating the many song parameters (such as melodic styles and vocal mannerisms) and relating these to parallel elements in each culture. While the theory of ‘cantometrics’ is now seen as being fl awed in several respects, most ethnomusicologists accept his general premise—that musical styles and aesthetics emerge from and tend to reinforce the social values of culture, assuming of course that there is cultural agreement. Statements in the ancient Chinese texts (notably the Zhouli, Liji and Yueji ) demonstrate that among scholar-offi cials, music was viewed as a tool to promote social stability—a kind of functionalism in action. Mainstream Confucian concepts such as ‘refi ned music’ ( yayue), ‘ritual and music’ (li-yue) and ‘concordance’ (xiehe) served to reinforce state- sanctioned norms of behavior and, through regulation of pitch systems, reconcile the state with the cosmological order. So important was the effort to bring all things into ‘harmony’ that offi ces of music ( yuefu) were attached to the early imperial governments to oversee and coordinate this activity. While such institutions were eventually weakened and abandoned, the theory and practice of using music to regulate behavior (of one’s self and of others) has continued to the present day—though now this relationship is preserved by traditionally-trained musicians who have absorbed this ideology through years of enculturation. The situation in South China is particularly interesting. Three conservative cultures—Hakka, Chaozhou and Minnan—preserve many basic elements of the old ideology. These include notions of performing a ‘refi ned music’, deliberate choice of tensionless modes, emphasis upon the older layer of musical instruments (e.g., zheng, pipa and xiao), conscious association with literary and socially-harmonious ideals (manifest in titles and aesthetics), cooperative interactions, and decorous performance demeanor. Musicians say that this style of music represents the ideology of the Confucian scholar. I have been aware of this extraordinary homologous relationship since the earliest periods of my fi eldwork. There has been some western scholarship of a socio-functional nature, notably the exploration of Confucian musical philosophy by Walter Kaufmann (1976) and the more detailed studies by Ken DeWoskin (1982, 1983) and Scott Cook (1995a, 1995b). However, most scholars working in Chinese music stud- preface xiii ies have either assumed that the Confucian musical ideology existed in theory only, or that its infl uence on present-day music had disappeared. One recent exception can be found in the work of Du Yaxiong (2002), who wrote a culturally-sensitive dissertation on the Confucian basis of present-day ritual music in North China. Since the late 20th-century paradigm of Chinese music scholarship has focused almost entirely upon literary and strictly historical approaches, it has been very diffi cult to break away from this model. It has also been a challenge for western scholars to overcome the Chinese approach to social issues, partly because, until recently, the only social orientation permitted by the Chinese government has been that of Marxism/Maoism, but also because most historical associations between music and culture have simply been taken for granted. The Confucian infl uence over the centuries has clearly been a powerful and harmonizing force. But how to account for those historic cultures and contemporary social groups which have not wanted to be ‘harmonized’? What of the competing philosophies of Zhuang Zi and Mo Zi? While the theoretical orientation of this study is upon cultural norms, I also feel obliged to identify some of the important countercurrents and the mix of their infl uences on musical style and structure. Consequently, where Buddhist, Daoist, western or other infl uences can be found, these will be examined as well.

Analytic Methodology As an essential part of any theoretical orientation, a certain amount of analysis of the music itself is required. The analysis in this study is mostly contained in Chapters Four and Five, with further thoughts on performance practice spilling over into Chapter Six. I start with a brief review of music theory as recorded in the ancient Chinese treatises—a theory focused almost entirely upon pitch systems and modes, all numerologically balanced with the great Chinese world order. While this theory—much of it pure theory—has been well documented in both Chinese and Western sources, my goal here is to contextualize this body of speculative thought and examine its relevance to music in the local traditions of South China. To what extent can these contemporary music systems be explained in terms of the ancient cosmologically-correct theories? I will show that when Chinese scholars attempt to explain common- practice instrumental traditions in terms of the old court theories (as some do), they often miss a number of regional practices, notably xiv preface the presence of modal and temperament irregularities, and regional characteristics in linear form. It is in this area that I make my greatest contribution to an understanding of how the music works. Yet, it is apparent that at least some of the ancient philosophical theories are still known to musicians, especially those of yin-yang ideology, the ideal of pentatonicism, and the values of ‘concordance’ and ‘elegance’. About these theories I need not speculate as they can be observed in the music. When southern musicians claim they are playing ‘Confucian music’ (ruyue), one merely needs to press for the details.

Alan R. Thrasher Vancouver, 2007 CONVENTIONS

Notations and Transcriptions The term ‘notation’ will be used in reference to a visual record of a given melody, one showing elements of pitch, rhythm and beat structure. Two types of Chinese notation are cited in the text, the traditional gongche (literally ‘mi-re’) notation and the early 20th-century cipher system, jianpu (‘simple notation’). These systems are outlined in Appendices A and B. Since both are essentially diatonic systems, roughly equivalent to the western solfège system (e.g., do, re, mi), I will rely upon the latter (with minor adaptations) for explanation of the relevant tuning systems and modes. In traditional practice, most melodies notated in gongche, and many in jianpu, are skeletal versions ( guganyin), in which only the most important notes are shown. Pieces identifi ed as ‘performance realizations’ show interpretations, including the addition of melodic fi ller, embellishments and other performance details which are changeable. Notations of both types, however, are basically records and memory guides, since the music of South China is usually passed on by way of aural transmission. When a melody is transferred from a Chinese notation system into western staff notation, I will use the term ‘transnotation’; when from an audio recording source (tape, CD), I will use the term ‘transcription’. Note that the traditional system of temperament in South China differs from equal temperament in the use of three-quarter-step intervals. These differences will be identifi ed with ‘+’ and ‘–’ signs above the relevant pitch positions, indicating sharper and fl atter placement respectively (and detailed further in Chapter Four). In discussion of instrument tuning systems, octaves will be differentiated through the use of primes ( ' ). For example, the pitches in the basic octave for most lead string instruments will be shown with single primes (e.g., c', d', which is the octave range above middle C on the piano). Pitches in the octave above this will be shown with double primes (e.g., c", d"); in the octave below, without primes (e.g., c, d). Musical phrases are also identifi ed with letters and primes (these for varied repetitions), but in all cases phrase letters will be underlined (e.g., a, b) and discussed as phrases. xvi conventions

Orthography and Pronunciation I use Mandarin pronunciations in this book, in large part to clearly identify common musical issues among three cultures with different dialects. In view of the fact that the now- prevalent pinyin system of romanization is not easily employed by the non-specialist, the following pronunciation guide to the most troublesome consonants should be useful: C is pronounced like ‘ts’ as in tsetse (e.g., cui, citang) Q is pronounced like ‘ch’ as in cheap (e.g., qu, qin) X is essentially pronounced like ‘s’ as in see, though articulated with a light ‘h’ sound as in she (e.g., xiao) Z is pronounced like ‘ds’ as in suds (e.g., dizi, Kong Zi) ZH is pronounced like ‘j’ as in junket (e.g., zheng, sizhu) Vowel sounds are similar to those in English. Some additional pronunciation assistance is given in the footnotes. In citation of important names and terms which appear in early and mid-20th-century writings—terms which have been romanized in different systems—I provide both pinyin and the earlier Wade-Giles spelling systems for cross-reference. My use of Wade-Giles (WG) spellings, however, is limited to only the most relevant terms and, consistent with their usage by many mid-20th-century authors, these appear without diacritical marks. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In this study, I have relied upon a very wide range of sources. Some of the most culturally sensitive writing concerning the impact of Confucian thought upon Chinese behavior and arts appeared in the mid-20th century. Studies such as Fung Yu-lan’s history of Chinese philosophy (1948/rpt.1964) and Arthur Wright’s edited volumes on Confucianism (1953/rpt.1967; 1959/rpt.1975) are classics in their own right. These studies have immediate relevance for our understanding of closely-related theoretical issues and I quote from them frequently. More recently, superb scholarship has emerged on ancient Chinese music philosophy, much of it related to music theory broadly defi ned. Here I have benefi tted from the insights of two scholars in particular, Ken DeWoskin (1982) and Scott Cook (1995), both of whom have written on the musical ideals of the ancient philosophers, offering new translations of key sections in the classic texts. Accounts specifi cally on music history are found in other writings of the mid-20th century, notably Kishibe’s study of Tang dynasty music (1960), Picken’s work on various historical topics (1962, 1969) and, for imperial court music theory, the writings of Nakaseko (1957) and Robinson (1962). Most widely respected, however, is the work of Yang Yinliu, who has written on numerous historical topics and the authoritative two-volume history of Chinese music (1981), from which I cite a number of important insights. For the most part, however, these scholars focus upon pure history, without attempting to follow old forms, styles and aesthetics into contemporary practice. On the regional sizhu traditions of today, the studies I have found to be most useful are the Chinese-language publications of Gao Houyong (1981), Li Minxiong (1983), Yuan Jingfang (1987) and Chen Tianguo (1985, 1998). The writings of many other scholars have been helpful as well and these are cited throughout the book. I wish to express my sincere gratitude to the following musicians and scholars for the assistance they have given in facilitating my work in South China. Foremost amongst them is Huang Jinpei, with whom I have studied Cantonese instrumental music continuously since my fi rst trip into China in 1984. Huang, a professor at the Xinghai Conserva- tory of Music (Guangzhou), has given tirelessly of his time in long discussions about the history and theory of Cantonese music and its xviii acknowledgments relationship with Hakka and Jiangnan musics. He has also given me ready access to his many rare early 20th-century materials and collections in notation, and has opened doors to the other nearby traditions in Guangdong province. It was through Huang Jinpei that I met the fi ne Hakka musicians Rao Ningxin, Luo Lian and Luo Dezai, and the infl uential Chaozhou musicians Chen Tianguo, Su Qiaozheng and Lin Maogen. These are among the most prominent of southern musicians and scholars active today. Through interviews and performance demonstrations, they were the fi rst to clarify my many questions about Hakka and Chaozhou musical structures. Their insights are documented during the course of this book. Other important infl uences have included Han Kuo-huang, Tong Kin-woon, Wu Huo-huang, Li Wei and sinologist Edgar Wickberg who, since the 1970s, have encouraged my work in various ways and given advice on numerous issues; Gao Houyong, Li Minxiong and Du Yaxiong who, over the years, have spent time discussing complex issues of Chinese musical structures both in theory and practice; and the Shantou-based Chaozhou musicians Wang Peiyu and Chen Mayuan, and Dapu musicians Rao Baoyou and Luo Zengliang, with whom I spent many days on my most recent visit of 2006 listening to fi ne performances and examining local characteristics of these musics. I have benefi tted greatly from their help. In support of this research, several key fi nancial awards must be acknowledged: a generous grant from the Social Sciences and Humani- ties Research Council of Canada, which enabled me to spend four months during 1986 in Guangzhou and Shantou; several smaller Humanities and Social Sciences grants administered by the University of British Columbia, for research in Taipei and Quanzhou (Fujian province), and further work with scholars in Hong Kong and Guang- zhou; and, most recently, a large Hampton Research Grant, awarded by the University of British Columbia, allowing me to complete my research in Shantou and Dapu (2004 and 2006). I am most grateful for this support. Finally, I have relied heavily upon my Ph.D. student, Gloria Wong, who carefully designed and set up my many notated examples; Alan Lau, who assisted in preparation of some illustrations and the glossary; artist Cheryl Fan, who clarifi ed the details of faded paintings depicting historic ensembles and for additional sketches of musical instruments; and my wife, Mary Weller, whose editorial assistance over the recent months has been invaluable. My sincere thanks to all. CHAPTER ONE

SIZHU MUSIC IN SOUTH CHINA

Most Cantonese music can be characterized as ‘bustling’ (re’nao) because this is an urban tradition, unlike the rural Hakka music which displays a strong sense of ‘tranquility’ (anjing) (Huang Jinpei, 1986)

The myth of a monolithic Chinese culture has penetrated deeply into popular thinking, both Chinese and Western, and occasionally into scholarly thinking as well. But the student of Chinese history is certainly aware of the many periods of cultural dissonance and internal confl ict from the Warring States period (5th–3rd centuries b.c.) onward. In fact, one of the major achievements of the Han dynasty (206 b.c.–220 a.d.) was unifi cation of the numerous warring kingdoms on and around the Central Plain of North China. As a result, most Chinese today refer to themselves as ‘Han people’ (as an ethnic term), and to mainstream Chinese civilization as that of the Han. With unifi cation came a sustained diffusion into southern regions of court and literati cultures—notably of written language, measurement systems, the Confucian philosophy, state rituals and literature. In spite of this, however, local dialects, local musics and local cuisines have been well maintained. It is fair to suggest that unifi cation was not always warmly embraced, especially in marginal regions and among minority cultures. Indeed, the Hokkien cultures of southeastern coastal areas (Chaozhou and Minnan) and the very eclectic Cantonese, who have always been opposed to the hegemony of the North, call themselves ‘people of the Tang [dynasty]’ (Tangren), as if in protest. In this book I examine the theoretical underpinnings of the sizhu (‘silk-bamboo’)1 instrumental ensemble traditions of the Han and Tang peoples of South China. This region is dominated by four cultures: Chaozhou, Minnan, Hakka and Cantonese.2 Their areas of settlement

1 Sizhu is pronounced as ‘seh-ju’; wg: szu-chu. 2 The Beijing scholar Yuan Jingfang (1987: 290ff.) distinguishes among four different regional sizhu types—Chaozhou, Minnan, Cantonese and Jiangnan (central-eastern 2 chapter one are shown in Fig. 1.1. The name ‘silk-bamboo’ derives from the instrument types which dominate the chamber ensemble—those with silk strings (lutes, ﬁ ddles, zithers) and ﬂ utes constructed of bamboo. Percussion instruments, when employed, are small in size and usually restricted to woodblock types or other time-markers. While all cultures maintain regional names and distinctive stylistic characteristics for their ensemble traditions, most share a core of aesthetic, behavioral and musical concepts, allowing for the kind of cross-cultural study proposed here.

Music Categories: Sizhu as a Domain

Chinese scholars have always taken an active interest in classifying their material and expressive culture. As early as the 4th and 3rd centuries b.c., the concepts of proper and improper music were differentiated in Zhou dynasty literature, notably in reference to the traditions of the virtuous state of Lu and corrupt state of Zheng (q.v. Chapter Two). Specifi c functional types, such as ritual music, processional music and entertainment music were cited and visually depicted during the Han dynasty (c2nd century a.d.). Several centuries later, the categories of ‘refi ned music’ ( yayue) and ‘banquet music’ ( yanyue) appeared in the literature of the Tang court. The early Song scholar Chen Yang (c1100), in attempt to document the strong Indian and Central Asian infl uences as well as indigenous traditions, differentiated among the concepts of ‘refi ned music’ ( yayue), ‘popular music’ (suyue) and ‘barbarian music’ (huyue). These domains and associated concepts are cited in dynastic sources from the earliest periods onward.3

China). Hakka chamber music is not mentioned by Yuan (nor is it examined in Gao Houyong’s seminal study of 1981), perhaps because this tradition is small relative to the others. Related ensemble types include the less well-known regional traditions of bantouqu of Henan province, baisha xiyue of western Yunnan province, and the guqu (zheng ensemble) tradition of Shandong province. A great deal more comparative work must be done on these and other regional types before their relationship to the southern sizhu traditions can be established. 3 For a good introduction to musical ideologies of the Zhou period, see DeWoskin 1982: 19ff. For a general review of historic research orientations, see Thrasher 1993: 311ff. SIZHU music in south china 3

Fig. 1.1 Culture Areas of Coastal Southeast China

During the early 1960s, a potentially useful socio-functional typology was suggested by musicologists working at the Music Research Institute in Beijing. Four broad categories were identifi ed: 1) ‘folk music’ (minjian yinyue); 2) ‘scholars’ music’ (wenren yinyue); 3) ‘religious music’ (zongjiao yinyue); and 4) ‘palace music’ (gongting yinyue) (Yinyue 1964: 4). By the end of the period of the Cultural Revolution (1966–76), however, this approach was abandoned, primarily because the new Marxist-Leninist ideology did not recognize the cultures of scholars, religions or palaces (Du 2002: 12–13). Their new proposal was to focus upon the traditions of the working classes (i.e., ‘the folk’, minjian) and, instead, differentiate among fi ve ‘folk’ genre types: 1) ‘folksong’ (minge); 2) traditional ‘opera’ (xiqu); 3) narrative song or ‘song arts’ (quyi ); 4) ‘instrumental music’ (qiyue); and 5) ‘song-and-dance’ music (gewu). While this system has now 4 chapter one become generally accepted in state-sponsored publications, notably in the multi-volume anthology Zhongguo Minzu Minjian Yinyue Jicheng,4 it is apparent that, within some of these categories, there are musical types which do not fi t (e.g., dance-songs which are performed instrumentally but without dance) and others which overlap (e.g., Cantonese narrative songs which derive from opera). With the easing of ideological restric- tions over recent years, Chinese scholars have realized the limitations of this fi ve-part system, and such genres as solo qin zither music, Buddhist chant, and the historic palace music can now be better conceptualized—though not easily within this system. Instrumental music alone can usefully be separated into solo genres (e.g., qin and pipa repertoires) and indoor and outdoor ensemble genres, most of which display distinctive regional characteristics. For instrumental ensemble music, the respected scholar Gao Houyong (1981) distinguishes among the following types: sizhu (‘silk-bamboo’), xiansuo (‘strings’), chuida (‘blowing-hitting’), guchui (‘drumming-blowing’), and luogu (‘gongs and drums’). Luogu is a repertoire of patterns for percussion instruments. Sizhu and xiansuo, while presented as different traditions, are clearly related (regional) types of chamber music, with similar repertoire and musical instruments. The genre types chuida and guchui are also presented as different genres, but both are dominated by instruments with considerably louder volume than the instruments found in sizhu music. The chuida-guchui ensemble types are generally employed to perform for outdoor celebrations and processions, such as funerals, calendrical rites and religious ceremonies.5 For the purpose of this study, I will use the terms sizhu and chuida to identify what I see as two basic instrumental ensemble domains—the relatively soft chamber music and the louder ceremonial music. The term sizhu, which appears early in Chinese literature (q.v. Chapter Three), has been used as a domain term by Chinese musicologists since the 1960s.6 Today, only a few regional traditions actually use these names. For the chamber music domain, the term sizhu is used only in

4 This series, under the name given here, can be simply translated “Anthology of Chinese Folk Music”. In fact, the fi ve categories are separately titled according to musical type: Zhongguo Minzu Minjian Qiyue Qu Jicheng, Zhongguo Xiqu Yinyue Jicheng, Zhongguo Quyi Yinyue Jicheng, Zhongguo Minjian Gequ Jicheng, Zhongguo Minzu Minjian Wudao Jicheng (q.v. Jones 2003: 287–337 for an English language review). 5 For a useful study of the chuida-guchui traditions, see Jones 1995. 6 Scholars who have used sizhu as a domain term include Hu Dengtiao (1961: 24), Gao Houyong (1981: 23ff., 76ff.) and Yuan Jingfang (1987: 290ff.). SIZHU music in south china 5 the Jiangnan region of eastern China, while similar traditions in other regions retain their own distinctive names (e.g., Chaozhou xianshi, Can- tonese yinyue). Some regional differences in function are also notable. For example, the refi ned Minnan chamber tradition nanguan—which many musicologists list as a sizhu type—is frequently performed for outdoor (though staged) religious celebrations, while the lively Shandong guchui may be performed as concert music. But the terms sizhu and chuida are nevertheless useful in differentiating the two types. It is doubtful whether the sizhu and chuida traditions were ever entirely isolated from each other. Indeed, most southern cultures maintain a chuida variant alongside their local sizhu type—sometimes played by the same musicians. As well, many of the livelier pieces in the southern (and Jiangnan) sizhu repertoires actually refl ect strong chuida melodic infl uence. A fi nal note on the troublesome dichotomy of ‘classical’ (gudian) and ‘folk’ (minjian). There certainly are traditions which the Chinese consider to be ‘classical’, the qin zither and kunqu opera being prime examples. Surrounding these traditions are elaborate theories and aesthetic ideals. Both require a high degree of technical expertise for performance, and both are closely associated with the orientations of the literati. In the minds of some scholars, everything else is considered to be ‘folk music’, and herein lies the problem. The Chinese term for this concept is minjian yinyue, a term more accurately (if less poetically) translated as ‘music among the people’, implying a domain of music other than that of the literati. The practice of translating minjian as ‘folk’, a term which was probably introduced from Marxist rhetoric during the 1950s, at any rate works poorly within the Chinese context. It is clear there have been mixed interactions among many of these genres, such as kunqu tunes used in the regional (‘folk’) operas, and popular (‘folk’) melodies used in qin music.7 More meaningful to today’s scholarship must be recogni- tion of the ways of thinking within specifi c Chinese regions, where local people identify their so-called minjian genres as actually being ‘classical’, while rejecting the qin and kunqu traditions altogether! The Minnan and Hakka traditions are good examples of this perception, as will be seen throughout this book. Therefore, the problematic terms ‘classical’ and ‘folk’ will be used sparingly, and always with regional qualifi cation. When referring to specifi c genres which have been passed on, mostly through

7 Qin is pronounced as ‘chin’; wg: ch’in. 6 chapter one aural transmission, the terms ‘traditional’ or ‘common practice’ will be used. These terms are no more exact than ‘folk’ but are, at least, neutral with regard to the Confucian and Communist value systems. Against this brief overview of genre types and terminology, the dominant culture areas of South China will now be outlined, with greater detail given to the nature of ensembles and repertoires, and some insights into their webs of inter-relationship.

Music Cultures of South China

The Yellow River region of North China, while not the geographic focus of this study, must be cited fi rst because of its historic importance. Near the sharp northward bend in the river and to the east are located many archeological sites of prehistoric signifi cance, and also most of the Chinese capital cities from the Shang through Tang dynasties (roughly, 16th century b.c. to 10th century a.d.). This region is known as the ‘Central Plain’ (Zhongyuan), a broad agricultural plain with Henan province at its center, together with southern areas of Shandong and Shaanxi to its east and west. By the early 12th century, however, this hub of Chinese civilization—the heart of Confucian culture—was largely abandoned as the advancing Mongol horsemen forced the Han people to migrate south and east. There are surviving northern chamber music traditions, such as Henan bantouqu and the well-documented xiansuo music (Rong 1814), both with strong representation of the 68-beat form (q.v. Chapter Five) and performed on stringed instruments—notably zheng, pipa and sanxian. The infl uence of these traditions on Chaozhou and Hakka small ensemble repertoires has only recently been recognized (q.v. further discussion below and in Chapter Three). In central-eastern China, the fertile rice-growing region of the Yangzi River basin is known today as Jiangnan (literally, ‘south of the [ Yangzi] river’). Historically populated by non-Sinitic speakers, this broad region was ultimately taken over by Wu-speaking Chinese, a dialect distantly related to Mandarin. Jiangnan (present-day southern Jiangsu and northern Zhejiang provinces) emerged after the 12th century as the dominant economic and cultural center of China, with an enormous range of activity by scholars, poets, artists and musicians fl ourishing in the newly- cosmopolitan cities of Hangzhou and Suzhou. Today, the bustling city of Shanghai has taken over the role of cultural capital. Among the genres of music practiced in the Jiangnan region, the classical opera kunqu and qin zither have received strong support among the literati. SIZHU music in south china 7

Jiangnan sizhu, a more recent instrumental chamber music genre drawn from diverse sources, is supported by a broader social constituency. It is still performed in the music clubs and teahouses of Shanghai.8 Both regions, the Central Plain and Jiangnan, over the years have had some inﬂ uence on, or inter-relationship with, the southern traditions. Along the southeastern coastal region of present-day Fujian and Guangdong provinces, isolated by a dense range of mountains, there are several thriving cultures which scholars believe preserve some of the oldest layers of Chinese civilization. In terms of cultural diversity, the southeast coast—commonly known as Hokkien, the local pronunciation of Fujian—is one of the richest regions in East Asia. Two linguistically related cultures, Chaozhou and Minnan, dominate this population.

Chaozhou The Chaozhou formerly lived on the Central Plain (present-day Henan and southern Shaanxi provinces).9 Their migration to the Chaoshan Plain on the Southeast Coast has not been thoroughly documented but the initial movement is thought to have started as early as the 4th century. While there had been some earlier level of Chinese governmental presence along this coast, it was during the Tang dynasty (618–907) that a regional political center was established at the city of Chaozhou (Chen 1985: 32). Migration intensiﬁ ed in response to the Mongol invasion. The Chaozhou people settled along the eastern Guangdong coast, their traditional occupations centering on ﬁ shing, boat building and some agriculture. Within the recent several centuries, Chaozhou people have migrated southward to Hong Kong and beyond—especially into Thailand where they moved into powerful economic and political positions.10 Their principal urban centers in China today are the coastal cities of Shantou (Swatow), Chaoyang, Chenghai and (further inland) Chaozhou city.

8 Several prominent Chinese scholars have written on the development and structure of Jiangnan sizhu, among them, Jin Zuli (1980), Gao Houyong (1981: 83ff.) and Yuan Jingfang (1987: 291ff.). For a well-balanced English-language study, see Witzleben 1995. 9 Chaozhou, in Mandarin, is pronounced as ‘Chao-jou’; in the local dialect it is ‘Teochiu’. 10 Teochiu (Chaozhou) presence in Thailand was so strong during the 18th and 19th centuries that a Teochiu general actually ascended to the throne (as king of Siam), ruling the country for a brief period (q.v., Moser 1985: 195). Their musical inﬂ uence throughout Southeast Asia (Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam) has been extensive, most noticeably in the construction of two-stringed ﬁ ddles, lutes and zithers, but also in areas of musical form. 8 chapter one

The Chaozhou instrumental tradition is large, with nearly half a dozen genres differentiated. Their principal chamber tradition is known as xianshi yue (‘string-poem music’), though sometimes simply as xianyue (‘string music’).11 The term xian (‘string’) identifi es the dominant instrument types used (bowed and plucked strings) and refl ects an important level of continuity with the xiansuo ensemble tradition of North China (discussion to follow in Chapter Three). The meaning of the name ‘string-poem music’ is not entirely clear, though musicians believe that these pieces were originally associated with poems which were subsequently forgotten. A more intimate Chaozhou chamber genre is xiyue (‘elegant music’).12 Xiyue repertoire is virtually the same as xianshi, the primary difference between these being the smaller size of the xiyue ensemble and the higher degree of skill required for its performance. Other Chaozhou genres include the regionally-famous da luogu (‘great gongs and drums’) and temple music—both of which are associated with ceremonial functions—and several other less common types.13 The chamber repertoire consists of ten extended suites (their classical repertoire), together with a variety of other tunes of lesser signifi cance. Representative suites include Hanya Xishui (“Winter ravens playing in the water”, Chapter Four, App. A2, B2 and B3), Pingsha Luoyan (“Wild geese descending on a sandbank”), Da Baban (“Great eight beat”, App. B1), Xiao Taohua (“Small peach blossoms”) and Yue’er Gao (“High moon”); shorter tunes include Liuqing Niang (“Lady Liu Qing”, Chapter Four, Fig. 4.5 and 5.1), Xijiang Yue (“Moon over the West River”) and others of a more popular nature. This tradition, with its many modal complexities and variation techniques, is one of the most highly developed in South China. Ensemble size usually numbers fi ve or more performers of stringed instruments, including pipa (lute), sanxian (lute), tihu (mid-range fi ddle) and zheng (zither) or yangqin (dulcimer), all led by a performer on erxian (high- range fi ddle). Other instruments may optionally be added, such as qinqin (lute), yehu (coconut-shell fi ddle), shouban (clapper) and dizi (short fl ute).14

11 In these related terms, xian is pronounced as ‘syen’; wg: hsien. 12 Xiyue is pronounced as ‘syi-yue’; wg: hsi-yüeh. 13 For Chinese-language introductions to xiyue, see Chen Tianguo 1992: 12–14 and Chen Wei 1992: 9–11. 14 Brief sketches of these instruments are given in Chapter Three. For greater detail, see Thrasher 2000, Dujunco 1994: 38ff., and the entries in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd edition (2001). SIZHU music in south china 9

Fig. 1.2 Chaozhou xianshi ensemble, Shantou One of many music clubs in Shantou City Instruments L to R: tihu, pipa, yangqin, sanxian, yehu, and erxian. (photo: A. Thrasher, 1986)

The mid-sized xianshi ensemble pictured in Fig. 1.2 shows the standard performance positions for several instruments: the lead erxian fi ddle at the far right (from the audience perspective), yangqin at the center, and pipa on the left side of the ensemble. For the refi ned xiyue, the core ensemble consists of three instruments, the so-called ‘three plucked’ (santan): sanxian, pipa and zheng, though other soft instruments such as yehu or xiao (end-blown fl ute) may optionally be added. A fi ve-piece xiyue ensemble is pictured in Fig. 1.3. Note that the three primary instruments are positioned at the front of the ensemble. Xianshi music is performed within different contexts, very commonly at home for self-entertainment, but also in music clubs and at ancestral temples in association with weddings and funerals. Numerous cultural indicators suggest that there were historic Chao- zhou relationships with Tang and Song cultures (7th to 13th centuries) on the Central Plain. Identifi cation with the medieval city of Xi’an, site of the Tang capitol at Chang’an (Shaanxi province), is especially strong. These factors, together with notions of being ‘people of the Tang’ (Tangren), form a central part of their ancient origins belief. 10 chapter one

Chen Tianguo, the Guangzhou-based scholar who has written most extensively on Chaozhou music, cites many examples attesting to the supposed lineage of this music, such as the preservation of terminology employed in the well-documented Tang form daqu (‘grand song’), performance keys speciﬁ cally associated with Tang-Song music, and instrument names beginning with the preﬁ x ‘qin’ (e.g. qinzheng, qinqin), which were likely derived from (or named after) the Qin region on the western Central Plain. He boldly concludes that “some Tang musical styles and terminology are preserved in Chaozhou music” (1985: 34). Other Chaozhou scholars have advanced similar theories.15 The more cautious view is of a tradition rooted in practice dating from the 13th or early 14th centuries (Yuan 1987: 324). The belief that this music embodies the philosophy of the Confucian scholar (rujia) is

Fig. 1.3 Chaozhou xiyue ensemble, Chaozhou City Instruments L to R: pipa, xiao, zheng, yehu, sanxian. (photo: A. Thrasher, 2006)

15 As one example, the scholar-performer Chen Leishi has theorized that the old Chaozhou notation for zheng zither, known as ersipu (‘2–4 notation’), is distantly related to surviving Japanese koto notation, and was likely in use during the Tang-Song period (1978: 57ff.). SIZHU music in south china 11 consistent with this timeline in that, during this neo-Confucian period, the inﬂ uence of scholars on the arts was particularly strong. Documents show, however, that musical interactions with northern regions continued into the 16th century, notably with the Jiangnan cultural centers of Suzhou and Hangzhou (Chen 1985: 32ff.).16 Further discussion of these later historical trends appears in Chapter Three. Other Chaozhou musical characteristics, such as the predominance of the 68-beat form (Baban), demonstrate historic contacts of some dimension with the bantouqu repertoire of Henan province, the early 19th-century xiansuo repertoire of North China (with which xiyue ensemble makeup is nearly the same), and the surviving Hakka chamber repertoire of neighboring districts. As will be seen, the 68-beat form is widespread in China. The close inter-relationship between Chaozhou and Hakka zheng traditions is especially important, in that musicians from both cultures consider this multi-stringed zither to be reﬂ ective of ancient Confucian ideals, maintaining a cultural position analogous to the smaller qin of the Jiangnan region (an instrument rarely played on the Southeast Coast). The Chaozhou-Hakka zheng tradition forms the basis of the highly-regarded ‘southern school’ of zheng.17

Minnan The Minnan culture, which bears many close cultural and linguistic relationships with the Chaozhou, is located further north along the coast in the southern districts of Fujian province—the greatest population centers being Xiamen (Amoy), Quanzhou and Zhangzhou. Like the Chaozhou, Minnan people also identify the Central Plain as their ancestral homeland. According to scholars at the Quanzhou Center for History and Culture, migration southward occurred in several successive waves, beginning in the Eastern Jin dynasty (4th century), continuing during the period of the Five Dynasties (c10th century) and concluding as the Mongols advanced at the end of the Song dynasty (Wang 1986). By this period, the port city of Quanzhou was already a well-established trade hub. Since the Minnan were capable sea travelers, ship-building prospered and large numbers migrated to Taiwan (where

16 In her dissertation on Chaozhou music, Dujunco cites a number of other probable historic infl uences, including the introduction of northern opera melodies, Buddhist and Daoist tunes, and folksongs (1994: 36). 17 While there is a substantial shared repertoire between the Chaozhou and Hakka traditions, there are also important differences in performance styles. For this reason, Chen Anhua (1982: 57–60) points out that local musicians separate these into two southern schools (rather than one). 12 chapter one today they dominate the population on that island), the Philippines and areas throughout Southeast Asia. Minnan music is locally identifi ed by several names, most beginning with the prefi x nan (‘southern’). Nanyin (‘southern tones’) is thought to be oldest of the names (Lü 1982: 15). In Xiamen, the same repertoire is called nanyue (‘southern music’); in Quanzhou, xianguan (‘string pipe’) is often used, though in Taiwan and other Minnan areas the term nanguan (‘southern pipe’) is most common.18 Because nanguan has become the best known of these terms in the western world, it will be used in this book. Nanguan refers to a musical domain which includes both traditional songs and instrumental repertoire, but not the local opera or other more popular traditions. Three distinct nanguan genres are differentiated, of which the chamber tradition, known as pu (‘notation’) or more formally as qingzou pu (‘refi ned notations’), stands at the center of the instrumental tradition.19 Pu are multi-sectional suites, thirteen in number, each composed of between three and eight short, typically unrelated melodies, and arranged in a ‘chain’-like structure.20 The ensemble is fi xed at fi ve instruments. The lead instruments are pipa and dongxiao (end-blown bamboo fl ute), two very old instruments in Chinese traditional music. Supporting these are two instruments of more recent introduction, the erxian (fi ddle) and sanxian. The fi fth instrument is the paiban, a fi ve-piece wooden clapper used to mark the primary beats of each metric cycle.21 A fi ve-member instrumental ensemble in standard performance position is shown in Fig. 1.4. Note that the instrument types in the Minnan ensemble are very close to those of Chaozhou xiyue, though without zheng zither and always with dongxiao fl ute. Nanguan music is performed in homes and clubs for self-entertainment, and for

18 These terms are not absolutely ﬁ xed within their locales, for I have heard Quan- zhou musicians refer to nanguan, and Taiwan musicians refer to xianguan. 19 The other Minnan genres are known as zhi (literally ‘ﬁ nger’), over three dozen mono-sectional pieces with texts but usually performed instrumentally, and qu (‘song’), many hundreds of short lyric songs which are sung with instrumental accompaniment. See Lü 1982 for a comprehensive examination of these forms, and Wang 2002: 205ff. for an English-language introduction. 20 The total number of suites in the pu repertoire varies historically and regionally, one 19th-century source listing only 12 suites, others listing 13, 16, and even 17 (q.v., Yuan 1987: 335). 21 Occasionally, when a lively melody is performed at the conclusion of a suite—especially in the zhi repertoire—miscellaneous wind instruments and small percussion are added for rhythmic emphasis and increased volume. SIZHU music in south china 13

Fig. 1.4 Minnan nanguan ensemble, Taipei Instruments L to R: sanxian, pipa, paiban, dongxiao, erxian. (photo: A. Thrasher, 1979) a wide variety of ritual events, such as weddings, funerals and in honor of local Buddhist gods. Nanguan is an idiosyncratic repertoire—unusual in its use of a different pool of melodic sources (compared to the more mainstream Chaozhou tradition), a temperament system not regularly found in traditional instrumental music, fi xed (rather than fl exible) instrumentation, rejection of the zheng zither (which is popular in most regions of eastern China), and absence of the fi xed-length 68-beat structure (notably Baban) and ‘beat variation’ suite types so common to South China. This tradition is strikingly different from neighboring Chaozhou and Hakka traditions. Like the Chaozhou, Minnan musicians are also tempted to assign the origins of nanguan music to the period of the Tang dynasty or even earlier. Nanguan legends are particularly enduring. Liu Honggou was one of the fi rst to relate the belief that, as early as the Tang and Song dynasties, nanguan had been performed in the imperial palace as a type of refi ned entertainment music. Minnan people think of it as a type of ‘noble music’ (gaoshang yinyue) in reference to its Confucian qualities of elegance and restraint (Liu 1973: 10). 14 chapter one

These beliefs are widespread among musicians. In 1986, Quanzhou musicians also told me that nanguan has not changed in any essential way since the Tang-Song period (Wang 1986). Others have cited the pre-Tang genre, qingshang yue (‘pure music’) as a possible source (Lü 1982: 10), and one scholar even suggested that “nanguan originated from the ancient yayue” (‘reﬁ ned music’) (Sun 1981: 21).22 The problematic question of origin, which must be treated with great care, will be further addressed in Chapter Three. What is the relationship between nanguan music and the neighboring traditions? Musicians both inside and outside the Minnan region say that nanguan is entirely unique among the musics of South China. Some of the differences have been cited above (and will be explored further in Chapters Four and Five). Are there points of similarity? In an article on the possible relationship between Minnan music and Chaozhou music, Chen Wei (1992: 7–12) cites their closely related spoken dialect (a linguistic relationship that has been well documented) and discusses numerous shared cultural characteristics (local rituals, occupations, and food and tea preparation). But beyond some common features found in opera stories and folksong melodies, he has difﬁ culty identifying shared structural and stylistic features in their instrumental musics. It seems clear that nanguan music, while sharing basic instrumental ideals with Chaozhou xiyue, is rooted in a substantially different tradition from that of the Chaozhou and other local cultures.

Hakka The people known locally as Hakka—those in Southeast China at any rate—reside in the interior of eastern Guangdong and southwestern Fujian provinces. Like the Chaozhou and Minnan, Hakka history has been one of migration southward from the Central Plain. However, because of their linguistic differences with Chaozhou and Minnan speech, and the fact that their Henan-Shanxi ancestral homeland lies to the east of the ancient Chaozhou region, it is apparent they preserve a different branch of the Tang-Song population. Hakka movement into present-day Jiangxi province (in central China) is generally believed to

22 Most of the evidence used in support of Tang dating is visual and linguistic, notably the particular construction of the nanguan pipa, use of the Tang name chiba for the end-blown fl ute (dongxiao), similarities between local notation and the notations in the famous Tang manuscript found in the Dunhuang caves, and similarities between nanguan ‘chain’ forms and daqu (q.v. Wang Wei-chen 1988; Liu 1973: 3, Lü 1982: 9ff.). Wang Aiqun, of the Quanzhou Center for History and Culture, also told me of fi nding melodic similarities between Minnan music and that of present-day Xi’an (1986). SIZHU music in south china 15 have started in the 9th century, with further southward movement into the hilly areas of Guangdong province (and elsewhere in China) during the period of the Mongol invasion.23 Still later migrations took Hakka people into Taiwan and areas of Southeast Asia, notably Vietnam, Thailand, Singapore and Indonesia. When the Hakka arrived in Guangdong province, they were called ‘guests’ (hakka in Cantonese; kejia in Mandarin) by the dominant Can- tonese population. Primarily farmers by occupation, they settled on agricultural lands in the interior. Meixian county is considered their homeland in eastern Guangdong. Other Guangdong Hakka districts include Dapu, Huiyang, Shaoguan (in northern Guangdong) and the Chaozhou district of Shantou, where Hakka and Chaozhou musicians have interacted for many years (Rao 1986, Luo 2004). In fact, Hakka communities are found in a broad band across southern China, stretching from western Fujian province (Yongding, Longyan and other communities) to Sichuan province. Unfortunately, this diaspora has had the effect of diffusing Hakka musical identifi cation. For example, the city of Meizhou is known for opera, the nearby town of Dapu for instrumental music, and more rural areas for ‘mountain songs’ (shan’ge). While much of the instrumental repertoire is shared with Hakka communities in nearby southwestern Fujian, the structural differences from one town to another make it diffi cult for visiting musicians to perform together.24 One of the striking characteristics of Hakka culture is their seemingly contradictory position within the traditional Chinese social structure. While the Hakka for the most part are farming peoples, they think of themselves as the carriers of the true Han Chinese spirit, exemplifi ed by a strong sense of fi lial piety, emphasis on education and other Confu- cian values (Chapter Two). Although at the lower end of the Chinese socio-economic structure, the Hakka have produced some of the greatest political, military and educational leaders of the 20th century.25 Hakka

23 These migrations have been carefully documented in local records and gene- alogies. Rao Ningxin (1986), one of my primary music informants, states that the early generations of the Rao clan during the Song dynasty were ‘scholars’ ( jinshi ). The 24th generation, which had reached Dapu (in Guangdong province) sometime in the 16th century, were known for performance of music. Rao Ningxin belongs to the 47th generation. For more on the chronology of the Hakka migration, see Char 1969: 10–12 and Moser 1985: 236ff. 24 Some of these unusual versions of otherwise standard Hakka repertoire are notated in the Fujian volume of Zhongguo Minzu Minjian Qiyuequ Jicheng (2001: 419–487). 25 These include Deng Xiaoping, the noted linguist Guo Moruo, and many others. 16 chapter one culture places high value on the quality of simplicity, as evidenced in their plain dress, unspiced food preparation and minimally-embellished music. As Leo Moser puts it, “Although other Chinese often look down on the Hakka as simple farm folk, they do so with a touch of admira- tion, for simplicity is an ancient Chinese virtue.” (1985: 248). Hakka instrumental music, a small tradition relative to the Chaozhou and Minnan, has been known by different names. When Chaozhou people fi rst became aware of this tradition, they identifi ed it as “music on the other side of the river” (waijiang yinyue), because most Guang- dong Hakka lived to the west of the Han River (Wang 2006). During the mid-1950s, the tradition became known among the Cantonese as ‘Guangdong Han music’ (Guangdong hanyue), in reference to the music’s northern origins among the Han Chinese. In China, this name is now most common, though elsewhere it is sometimes referred to by the Mandarin name, Kejia yinyue (‘Hakka music’). During the early 20th century, well-established music clubs were active in Dapu and among Hakka communities in Shantou and Guangzhou, and as far away as Hue (Vietnam) and Singapore (Luo 1986). By the late 20th century, however, there had been steep decline in performance activity, and today this music is not often heard outside its center in Dapu. Several genres of Hakka instrumental music are commonly differentiated, of which the chamber tradition is known as sixian yue (‘silk string music’).26 Sixian repertoire consists of a variety of old melodies, the most important based upon the 68-beat form and arranged in suites of several types. Representative 68-beat pieces include the well-known Chushui Lian (“Emerging lotus blossoms”, Chapter Four, App. A3 and B4), Xunfeng Qu (“Balmy breeze melody”, Chapter Six and App. A1) and Yashan Ai (“Sorrow at Ya Mountain”); shorter pieces include Xixiang Ci (“Poem of the west chamber”, Chapter Four and App. A1) and Pipa Ci (“Pipa poem”). Instruments are similar to those of the Chaozhou, though the principal fi ddle is usually called touxian (‘lead string’), rather than erxian.27

26 Sixian is pronounced as ‘seh-syen’; wg: szu-hsien. Some sources (Luo 1986, Zhongguo 1984: 129) identify the Hakka chamber tradition as hexiansuo (‘harmonious string music’). Other Hakka genres include luoguchui (literally ‘gong-drum-blowing’), which is a rough equivalent of Chaozhou da luogu, and bayin (‘eight tone’), a chuida-type of outdoor ceremonial music. Among the Hakka in neighboring Fujian province, other terms are used in identiﬁ cation of related genres. 27 The Hakka touxian is shorter than the erxian, and its strings are tuned a ﬁ fth apart (rather than a fourth). SIZHU music in south china 17

A more intimate sub-type of Hakka chamber music—and a fair equivalent of Chaozhou xiyue—is qingyue (‘virtuous music’).28 Ver y signifi cantly, qingyue is also occasionally referred to as qingshang music, the Han dynasty term for ‘pure music’, and even as rujia music (ruyue), music of the Confucian scholar. Qingyue is an ensemble designation for a trio of instruments—usually zheng, pipa and yehu, though occasionally including xiao (fl ute) as well. A small Hakka ensemble is pictured in Fig. 1.5. Qingyue repertoire is mostly the same as sixian, but its aesthetic qualities are said to be more refi ned. Both types are performed in homes and music clubs for entertainment and self-cultivation, the larger sixian performed at special celebrations such as Chinese New Year (chunjie). Dating, once again, is an issue of some controversy. Luo Lian (1986) states that Hakka music preserves Song-Yuan repertoire and style—a tradition brought south with the southern migrations after the 12th century. The presence of so many 68-beat melodies in the Hakka repertoire suggests that they share a melodic pool with Henan

Fig. 1.5 Hakka qingyue ensemble, Guangzhou Instruments L to R: zheng, pipa, xiao, tiqin. (photo: A. Thrasher, 1986)

28 Qingyue is pronounced as ‘ching-yue’; wg: ch’ing-yüeh. 18 chapter one bantouqu, a relationship which would support this timeline. Intercultural relations with the neighboring Chaozhou, at any rate, appear to have been continuous, and their musics refl ect many commonalities. Chen Anhua (1982: 57ff.), one of the fi rst scholars to address this relationship, cites similar migration patterns, proximity of settlement, related genres, instruments and repertoire structures. He also states the commonly-accepted observation that Hakka instrumental music over the years has been well received by Chaozhou musicians and audiences, and that Hakka opera is often sung by Chaozhou performers.29 The inter-relationship between Hakka and Chaozhou zheng zither traditions has been cited above, though there is some debate over which culture has infl uenced the other more deeply. As seen in the chapters to follow, however, it is clear that some Hakka infl uence has been introduced into the Cantonese tradition.

Cantonese The Cantonese culture area is centered on the Pearl River delta in the far south of China. It dominates most of southern Guang- dong province, and there are substantial settlements in Guangxi province, Macau, Singapore, and many urban pockets of Southeast Asia and the western world. The largest urban Cantonese populations in China reside in Hong Kong, Guangzhou (Canton), and smaller neighboring cities such as Shenzhen, Foshan and Zhongshan. The Cantonese have a quite different history from the peoples of North and Central-eastern China. Early maps show that a people known as Yue occupied the Pearl River delta about two thousand years ago. Sinologists such as Leo Moser (1985: 206–208) suggest that the Yue—who are now identiﬁ ed with the Cantonese people—received strong cultural and linguistic inﬂ uence from the ancient Tai/Zhuang culture of the same region, some elements of which are still preserved. But it was not until the Tang dynasty that the imperial government successfully brought this region under central control, subsequently introducing Confucian ideals and rituals, written characters and measurement systems. Nevertheless, the Cantonese, partly because of their great distance from the northern center of political power, were able to maintain their distinctive spoken language, regional cuisine, and local cultural practices.

29 For examples of the relationship between the Hakka and Chaozhou musical systems, see Thrasher 1988: 1–30. SIZHU music in south china 19

An equally important factor for the maintenance of Cantonese cultural patterns is their location along the commercial southern coast. The port cities of Hong Kong and Macau emerged during the 19th century as international trade hubs and, for the better part of the last two centuries, the exchange of ideas between the Cantonese and the western world has been continuous. These social, geographic and commercial factors have exercised very strong infl uence on the recent direction of Cantonese music. The Cantonese instrumental tradition is generally known by the name Guangdong yinyue (‘Cantonese music’), a term implying music to be performed on instruments.30 Other names, such as xiaoqu (‘short tunes’), have been used in the past but are rarely heard today. In fact, the great majority of Cantonese instrumental pieces are short in length (as opposed to the more extended taoqu suite forms in practice among neighboring cultures); so, the term xiaoqu is not inappropriate. Virtually nothing is known about music making among the Cantonese prior to the 16th and 17th centuries, when the classical opera Kunqu was introduced from the Suzhou-Shanghai region of eastern China. Beijing opera and other northern opera types were introduced during the 18th and 19th centuries.31 The earliest Cantonese instruments (such as tiqin and yueqin) were adaptations of northern models, these stringed instruments introduced with the opera traditions. The earliest instrumental melodies were also derived from northern opera interludes (guochang qu) and pipa tunes from the Shanghai area. Equally signifi cant have been the instrumental traditions of the neighboring Hakka and Chaozhou cultures. From them—the Hakka in particular—the Cantonese borrowed both classical melodies and instruments. According to the research of the Guangzhou scholar Chen Deju, instrumental music considered specifi cally Cantonese emerged as recently as the 1870s and 1880s (1957: 1). Huang Jinpei agrees with this estimate, placing its early development between the 1880s and 1920s (1982: 8), a period when the various local musical traditions

30 ‘Cantonese opera’ ( yueju) is considered to be a type of Chinese opera (xiqu). These two traditions—opera and instrumental music—are seen as categorically different genres; they are rarely taught together at the same institutions or discussed together in publications. But the most cursory of observations reveal many cross infl uences, notably opera tunes used as models for instrumental melodies, and 20th-century instrumental compositions accepted into opera. 31 For more on the early infl uence of Kunqu and subsequent infl uence of Beijing opera, see Yung 1989: 4ff. 20 chapter one were certainly known to be in practice. The early 20th-century manuscript/collection Xiange Bidu is of enormous importance in identifying the various types of music current during this period. The author, Qiu Hechou (1917), differentiates among four types of instrumental music: 1) Baban variants, melodies known throughout China; 2) gudiao (‘old tunes’), 68-beat Baban-derived melodies refl ecting both Hakka sixian and Jiangnan pipa infl uence, such as Zhaojun Yuan (“Lament of Zhao Jun”); 3) guochang qu (‘crossing-the-stage tunes’), short instrumental tunes employed in the northern opera traditions, such as Liuqing Niang (“Lady Liu Qing”) and Dao Chunlei (“Spring thunder”); and 4) xiaodiao (‘short [popular] tunes’), folksong-like lyrical songs played on instruments, Moli Hua (“Jasmine fl owers”) being a good example. These four types account for nearly the entire traditional Cantonese repertoire of the early 20th century. The signifi cance of the Qiu manuscript, however, extends beyond the Cantonese tradition in that it identifi es the primary sources for Chaozhou and Hakka repertoires as well. The Cantonese instrumental tradition, as a regional repertoire, fl ourished during and following the 1930s, when the gaohu two-stringed fi ddle and qinqin lute were introduced into the ensemble, together with the yangqin dulcimer and other instrument types.32 A fi ve-piece Cantonese ensemble is pictured in Fig. 1.6. As many as three hundred new pieces were written during the mid-20th century, by composers such as Yan Laolie (e.g., Hantian Lei, “Thunder in the drought”, Chapter Five), Qiu Hechou (e.g., Yule Shengping, “Enjoyment of the peace”), He Liutang (e.g., Yuda Bajiao, “Rain beating on the banana leaves”), Cui Weilin (e.g., Chanyuan Zhongsheng, “Bell ringing in the Buddhist courtyard”) and, most famous of all musicians from this period, Lü Wencheng (e.g., Pinghu Qiuyue, “Autumn moon on the peaceful lake”. App. B6 and B7). Compositions such as these are all short (three or four minutes long on average), and mostly lively and cheerful—refl ecting the optimism of the period. They now dominate the Cantonese repertoire.33

32 Yuan Jingfang is correct in explaining that the Cantonese gaohu emerged an adaptation of the erhu, recently introduced from Shanghai, and the qinqin lute was borrowed from the Chaozhou xianshi ensemble (1987: 306). 33 For more information on the old and new Cantonese repertoire and its composers, see Huang 1982 and 1984, and Yuan 1987: 305ff. English-language summaries appear in Huang 2002: 217–221 and Huang and Thrasher 2008 (in preparation). SIZHU music in south china 21

Fig. 1.6 Cantonese ensemble, Guangzhou Music faculty at the Xinghai Conservatory of Music Instruments L to R: gaohu, zhonghu, yangqin, qinqin, xiao. (photo: A. Thrasher, 1986)

In summary, there has been considerable musical interaction among the Chaozhou, Hakka and Cantonese, and from earlier periods with the more northern traditions of the Central Plain and Jiangnan. While musicians rarely recognize such cross inﬂ uences, analysis shows that the three repertoires have drawn upon a common pool of traditional melodic models. They have also exchanged instruments, performance modes (notably the ‘crying mode’, Chapter Four) and some structural characteristics (such as the 68-beat Baban structure and ‘beat variation’ suite forms, Chapter Five). The Minnan, however, while culturally related to the Chaozhou in linguistic and other ways, maintain a highly idiosyncratic tradition which musicians believe was derived from an elite genre of imperial palace music. The introspective Minnan chamber music is organized differently and displays only superﬁ cial similarities with the other southern traditions. Yet, in terms of sound ideals and aesthetics, a number of commonalities can be found. 22 chapter one

Social Perspectives

Sizhu may be considered a type of ‘chamber music’ in the sense that it is a reﬁ ned tradition, performed for attentive audiences in homes, music clubs and teahouses. In some cultures (Chaozhou, Minnan), it is performed in ancestral temples and in other ritual settings as well. Ensemble sizes generally vary between three musicians (for intimate settings) and ﬁ ve or more musicians (for club meetings and performances). Instrumentalists sit in a semi-circle, around tables or in a cluster, depending upon regional practice, and their performance is held together by time-marking percussionists or lead instrumentalists (Fig. 1.7). While notations from the late 19th and early 20th centuries are present in all culture areas (Chapter Four), musicians usually play from memory. Sizhu music, in all its regional forms, is performed by people of diverse occupations and educational levels, including those from scholarly backgrounds, small merchants, laborers and persons of relatively low socio-economic standing. Chaozhou music, for example, is performed in urban areas by a mix of educated musicians, merchants and

Fig. 1.7 Cantonese ensemble, Guangzhou Musicians in a music club setting Instruments L to R: bass ruan, yehu, qinqin, yangqin, gaohu, xiao. (photo: A. Thrasher, 1986) SIZHU music in south china 23 students, and in the surrounding villages by farmers and laborers.34 It is the shared local culture and common regional ‘tongue’ which unify this seemingly classless tradition. Participation, however, generally requires at least some expendable income for purchase of instruments and leisure time for development of skills and attendance at meetings. As a result, the tradition tends to be associated with men’s clubs, perhaps because men have more spare time than do women, but also because men tend to socialize outside of the home.35 In the larger towns, several or more music-based associations are often active, each club having grown around the reputation of one or two skilled performers who form a nucleus for the ensemble. In Chaozhou and Hakka cultures, where lineage is carefully preserved and large families live in close proximity, ensembles made up entirely of family members are common. Membership in Cantonese ensembles, on the other hand, is more normally based upon regional dialect and sometimes business relationships. Music clubs usually meet weekly to rehearse and socialize. Meetings are very casual, musicians alternately performing in the ensemble, drinking tea and talking with friends at the side.36 These informal meetings, therefore, are locally thought of as ‘gatherings’; they are not ‘rehearsals’ in the western sense because musicians rarely stop to rehearse. Informants say they play music for self-cultivation, enjoyment and promotion of good health. Performances occur in any of several different settings, the most regular being within the music clubs themselves, where member musicians perform for each other—a gratifying experience for musicians of amateur status. (The ‘amateur ideal’ will be examined in Chapter Six.) Public performances, once common in teahouse settings, have essentially disappeared in South China, though teahouse music can still be heard in Shanghai. Among the Chaozhou and Hakka, performances are often

34 In one of the small villages I visited (Hepu), an ensemble with a membership of thirty male musicians—all farmers—met weekly to play music and socialize. Many farming villages in the region have musical activities of this sort. 35 In South China, and indeed throughout most of China, traditional instrumental ensembles are exclusively male in constitution. Within the recent decades of the 20th century, however, female musicians have been welcomed into the sizhu-type ensembles, notably on the zheng zither and pipa lute. 36 For an insightful discussion of the internal dynamics of amateur music clubs in the Chaozhou region, see Dujunco 1994: 116ff. 24 chapter one staged in connection with the lunar new year and other celebrations, and occasionally in ancestral temples as well (Chapter Two). Minnan chamber music is performed at similar commemorative events, but also in honor of local Buddhist gods (notably, for Mazu, goddess of seafarers), staged within the compounds of Buddhist temples. With the building of concert halls and growth of professional ensembles during the mid-20th century, most traditions are now performed in halls for a ticket-buying public. Performance of Cantonese music is unique among the southern traditions. While Cantonese music was performed in teahouse settings during the early 20th century, in the 1930s it became increasingly associated with the emerging technologies of ﬁ lm and radio.37 During this period, Cantonese musicians also took great interest in recording their performances and many 78 RPM recordings were made by the best musicians of the period. As a result, the tradition became highly uniﬁ ed—unlike Chaozhou, Minnan and Hakka musics where village variations are more pronounced. Today, Cantonese music is most often performed within the context of opera productions and at fund-raising banquets which, however, are normally dominated by vocalists singing traditional opera songs. It is rarely performed any longer as a separate instrumental tradition.

So, with such differing styles and perceptions, are there commonalities among these regional traditions—factors which make them ‘Chinese’? In the chapters to follow, I will demonstrate the various ways in which traditional ideologies and theories are manifest in the local musical styles, modes, structures and aesthetics. As a ﬁ rst step, the powerful and harmonizing force of Confucianism must be examined.

37 For example, when silent ﬁ lms were introduced into South China, Cantonese instrumentalists played at intermissions (Huang 1996)—a short lived association but one that reﬂ ects upon Cantonese eclecticism. CHAPTER TWO

YUELUN: THE CONFUCIAN FOUNDATION

Music harmonizes the people’s voices (Yueji, c1st century b.c.)

The Warring States period of the late Zhou dynasty (5th–3rd centuries b.c.) was marked by great civil unrest. During this pre-uniﬁ cation period, many small kingdoms battled for power and, ultimately, new concepts of governance emerged. The social theories attributed to Confucius (551–479 b.c.), which stressed the regulatory principles of proper behavior and use of music in promoting social harmony, provided this new sense of stability. These ideas were taken up by his followers and, over the next few centuries, became widely accepted throughout China. The Confucian foundation of Chinese music is the focus of this chapter, with some thoughts at the end on Daoist and other inﬂ u- ences. In this and later chapters, I will demonstrate that elements of Confucian (and Daoist) ideology are still embraced by musicians in the conservative cultures of South China, most notably among the Chaozhou, Minnan and Hakka.

Confucian Ideology

The socio-political institution of Confucianism became well established during the Han dynasty (206 b.c.–220 a.d.), several centuries after Confucius (Kong Zi) had been active. Because of his fundamental inﬂ u- ence on the educational and philosophical direction of Chinese culture, titles such as ‘grand master’ and ‘supreme teacher’ were conferred upon him posthumously by various imperial decrees. The collected writings of this teacher, real or ascribed, and of his disciples—especially the Liji and Lunyu—over time became a cornerstone of Chinese civilization. These, and other texts, are collectively known as ‘the Classics’.1

1 The “Five Classics”, collected in the 2nd century b.c., include the Shijing (“Classic of Songs”), Shujing (“Classic of Documents”), Yijing (“Classic of Changes”), Chunqiu (“Spring and Autumn Annals”), and Liji (“Record of Rituals”). A second grouping of 26 chapter two

Confucianism has passed through many fi lters over the last 2500 years. While the thoughts of the grand master himself are believed to have been most accurately preserved in the Lunyu (“Analects”), a number of his followers over the years wrote interpretations of and commentaries on this social philosophy. Xun Zi (wg: Hsün Tzu) was one of the earliest (active c250 b.c.). His interpretations are recognized by Chinese scholars as having been especially infl uential on the development of ritual practice and on the specifi c orientation of the Liji (“Record of Rituals”)—from which the Yueji (“Record of Music”) was drawn. During the Han dynasty, another strong proponent of Confucian philosophy, Dong Zhongshu (wg: Tung Chung-shu, active c125 b.c.), synthesized still earlier interpretations, adding to the Confucian canon distantly related ideas, such as yin-yang theory and ‘fi ve-elements’ theory. (The Yueji and yin-yang theory will be discussed below.) With the collapse of the Han dynasty and introduction of Bud- dhism, Confucianism passed out of favor (in imperial circles at least) for nearly one thousand years, until its revival in the Southern Song dynasty (1127–1279) with the neo-Confucian movement. The most active and respected scholar of this period was Zhu Xi (wg: Chu Hsi, 1130–1200). Zhu wrote highly infl uential commentaries on the classic texts, stressing societal order based on ethical leadership, proper family relationships, social harmony and other principles. By the 14th century, his interpretations of Confucianism had become orthodox.2 The point of this very brief overview is to identify the most prominent of many historical readings of Confucian ideology, showing that over a period of two millennia new interpretations and other theories were incorporated, sometimes even forced upon the ancient authority. In my own references to these philosophical backgrounds, I will differentiate wherever possible between statements in the ancient texts and interpretations by later scholars. When referring to ‘Confucian’, ‘Confucianism’ or the ‘Confucian infl uence’, I mean to identify essentially neo-Confucian

Classics, known as the “Four Books”, was compiled (in part from the “Five Classics”) by the Confucian scholar Zhu Xi more than one thousand years later. This collection includes the Daxue (“Great Learning”), Zhongyong (“Doctrine of the Mean”), Lunyu (“Analects”) and Mengzi (“Mencius”). The “Four Books” became the core of Confucian education after the 12th century. 2 For further information on neo-Confucian and other interpretations, see Fung Yu-lan’s A Short History of Chinese Philosophy (1964). YUELUN: the confucian foundation 27 thought—that is, the synthesis accepted by Chinese scholars since the Song period and sometimes called ‘the Confucian consensus’.3

Concepts of Governance The overriding issue in Confucian ideology is one of governance. As Arthur Wright observes, government during the imperial period for the most part was a social rather than con- stitutional process, and offi cials at all levels assumed responsibility for promoting the values and devising the institutions which would assure stability (1964: viiiff.). Historically, stability was achieved by regulating and harmonizing social order. This traditional, essentially Confucian, social system is explained by Derk Bodde (1953: 46): Society, in Chinese eyes, consists of a large number of small social units (the family, the village, the guild, etc.), each of which consists in turn of individuals varying greatly in their intellectual and physical capabilities. Because of these inequalities, it is inevitable that class differences should exist. The social order, in other words, is a rationalization of existing human inequalities. It does not follow, however, that there should be confl ict between social classes. On the contrary, the welfare of the social organism as a whole depends upon harmonious cooperation among all of its units and all the individuals who comprise these units. This means that every individual, however high or low, has the obligation to perform to the best of his ability those particular functions in which he is expert and which are expected of him by society. Thus the ruler should rule benevolently, his ministers should be loyal yet at the same time ready to offer if need be their frank criticism, the farmers should produce the maximum of food, the artisans should take pride in their manufactures, the merchants should be honest in their dealings, and no one should interfere needlessly in the tasks of others for which he himself is not qualifi ed. In other words, society should be like a magnifi ed family, the members of which, though differing in their status and functions, all work in harmony for the common good. Given this focus on social harmony and stability, the concepts of individualism and innovation were thought to encourage unregulated society, instability and possibly revolt. As a result, the Confucian perspective has been highly conservative, even backward-looking, in the sense that the best models of behavior and expressive culture were found in the achievements of the ancients, not in the experiments of

3 In Chinese-language sources, the Confucian school of thought was known as ruxue (wg: ju-hsüeh); Confucian scholars (or literati), who assumed responsibility for teaching the classic texts and their interpretations, were identifi ed as rujia (wg: ju-chia). 28 chapter two youth. Traditionally-educated Chinese people still cite the pithy, old Confucian sayings in resolving contemporary problems; traditional artists still repaint the old subjects; and traditional musicians still re- compose the old tunes and perform in the time-honored styles. Such behavior and expression is said to be ‘old and refi ned’ (guya). While cultural identifi cation may be the artistic motivation, social stability is one of the consequences. Confucian ideology is multi-faceted in scope and functionalist in approach, in the sense that all parts of society are expected to support the whole. Its pivotal concepts center on values such as ‘benevolence’ (ren) and ‘ritual’ (li )—which are two of the ‘fi ve constant virtues’—and ‘moderation’ (zhongyong).4 Like most ancient behavioral values, the concepts ren and li must be understood as clusters of related ideas. Ren, usually translated as ‘benevolence’ or ‘human-kindness’, essentially refers to the need for empathy in human relationships. This is seen as one of the root values in the achievement of ‘social harmony’ or ‘concordance’ (xiehe). Li is another, and certainly more complex concept, but one with great relevance for music. The term li is variously translated as ‘ritual’, ‘ceremony’, ‘propriety’ and/or ‘rules of conduct’—each of these identifying a slightly different function of the term, depending on context. For example, the early Confucians believed that, to effectively order society, people had to be taught the principles of social hierarchy. This function is summarized by Scott Cook (1995b: 18): [Li ] is fi rst and foremost the delineation and maintenance of social and familial positions, roles, and duties. It is through a clear demarcation and separation of positions and the performance of the tasks and duties associated with those positions without any overstepping of the bounds proper to them that the order and stability of the societal fabric is maintained. The violation of such boundaries is the root of all social instability. Thus, ‘rules of conduct’ (li ) were established, whereby sons should obey fathers, subjects respect emperors, and so forth. Related to this meaning is that of ‘ritual’ (li ). It was considered the duty of properly socialized citizens to demonstrate respect for their ancestors in prescribed conven- tional ways. On ancestral rituals, the Confucian disciple Xun Zi says:

4 Ren (wg: jen) and li are cited in the Lunyu (“Analects”), a text traditionally ascribed to Confucius himself. The concept of li, however, is more thoroughly documented in the Xunzi and Liji texts. For further information on these texts, see Fung 1964 and other western-language books cited below. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 29

The sacriﬁ cial rites are the expression of man’s affectionate longing. They represent the height of piety and faithfulness, of love and respect. (trans., Fung 1964: 149) Ancestor worship has deep roots in China, extending back to pre- Confucian times. Related rituals are still practiced in South China. In this sense, the ceremony (li ) provides an opportunity for the demonstration of respect for the deceased and a channel for expression of one’s grief. Zhongyong (wg: chung-yung) is both the title of a classic text (often translated as “Doctrine of the Mean”) and the term for another essential value—behavioral moderation. The opening statement in the commentary to the Zhongyong text reads “no inclination describes zhong; no change describes yong”.5 In a directional sense, the ‘middle’ road (zhong) is advocated, to be taken without veering ( yong). Accordingly, behavioral extremes were to be avoided. In summarizing this aspect of zhongyong, Fung Yu-lan cites the ‘never too much’ theory, whereby “it is better for one to be wrong by having too little, than to be wrong by having too much.” (1964: 20) Moderation of actions and avoidance of extremes were considered especially desirable goals in bringing about a state of equilibrium and harmony. Indeed, zhongyong as a value was more than just theory. Ideas about moderation and restraint were so heavily emphasized (especially since the growth of neo-Confucianism in the 13th century) that they became ingrained in the mind and attitude of the Chinese commoner. In addition, zhongyong exercised a regulatory effect upon music, as seen in performance behavior and, I will argue, heard in several elements of musical style.6 These points will be further discussed in Chapter Six.

Harmonization of Opposites Reconciliation of seemingly contradictory concepts has occupied an important place in Confucian thinking, as it has in Daoist and Buddhist thought. Sinologists accept that

5 Of the many editions of the Zhongyong, I have used James Legge’s The Four Books (1861/Taipei rpt. 1975), which gives both Chinese text and his translation and analysis. The translation given here, however, is my own. For further analysis of this central principle, see Fung 1964: 172ff. Several examples of this principle are cited in DeWoskin 1982: 27. 6 There is today widespread rejection of the zhongyong value by young people in particular—in large part because of its extensional meanings: ‘of ordinary talent; common’ (Liang 1973: 26). To most conservatory-trained musicians, the suggestion that ‘ordinary talent’ be more highly valued than ‘superior talent’ is unacceptable. 30 chapter two

Chinese philosophy is fi lled with dualisms in which, however, their two component elements are usually regarded as complementary and mutually necessary rather than as hostile and incompatible. (Bodde 1953: 54) The most famous dualism—and probably the paradigm for most others—is yin-yang ideology, which emerged early in the Zhou period and was subsequently adopted by the Confucians.7 This model is so well known in the western world that an explanation of its associated concepts would seem unnecessary. Yet, again, it must be pointed out that, in Chinese thinking, pairs such as these are always related, one unable to function without the other. How could an agricultural crop come to harvest without both rain ( yin) and sun ( yang)? How could the human species reproduce itself without both female ( yin) and male (yang) participants? In the words of Fung Yu-lan (1964: 138), “Through the interaction of these two primary principles, all phenomena of the universe are produced.” There are, of course, many manifestations of yin-yang ideology and related dualisms, such as wen (‘civil’) and wu (‘martial’)—two cultural categories commonly found in music and theater, and used to differentiate these types of expressive culture (i.e., ‘civilized’ and ‘gentle’ vs. ‘martial’ and ‘forceful’). Chaozhou and Hakka musicians use both pairs of concepts—yin and yang, wen and wu—in conceptualizing their chamber music genres and their out-of-doors ceremonial genres respectively. In a balanced cultural environment, both are necessary. As Edgar Wickberg points out, “even Confucianism and Daoism have a kind of ‘necessary and interacting opposites’ sense about them” (2005). Most signifi cant for traditional government theory and its co-option of music is the distantly-related theory of li-yue (‘ritual and music’). Li-yue is a specifi cally Confucian theory, employed in the promotion of social stability by regulating people’s diversity (through ‘ritual’) and harmonizing their voices (through ‘music’). This very central dualism will be examined below.8

Number Symbology A number symbology emerged in China over a period of many centuries, based upon a mix of Confucian and Daoist

7 References to yin-yang dualism appear in sources as early as the Yijing (“Classic of Changes”) and Shijing (“Classic of Songs”). 8 Other dualisms which refl ect stronger Daoist and Buddhist philosophy include ‘being’ and ‘non-being’, and ‘movement’ and ‘stillness’. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 31 interpretations, together with regional beliefs. Already well developed by the Song dynasty, auspicious numbers such as fi ve, eight and twelve were employed in explaining natural phenomena, in relating cosmology to everyday life, and in foretelling the future. Most single-digit numbers were assigned importance to some degree, though several numbers (notably four, seven and nine) did not achieve the prominence of the others or were associated with specifi c dynasties and not widely recognized afterwards.9 The essence of this numerology is merely outlined below, its many musical manifestations treated in greater detail in the chapters to follow. The unit one, anciently believed to represent the basic principle of ‘the way’ (dao), a sort of cosmological foundation, is considered the source of all things Chinese. Important as this number is in Chinese philosophy, one is weak in musical interpretations. It is, however, the source for the number two. In the words of Kazu Nakaseko, “Out of the Great Source [the dao], the two opposing aspects, yang and yin, were generated.” (1957: 147) The number two, clearly derived from yin-yang theory, is thought to be the oldest of the auspicious numbers. As will be seen, the theory of ‘ritual and music’ demonstrates with great clarity how these two forces interact. Additionally, in the ancient chromatic pitch system, the twelve (ascending) pitch positions are identifi ed as alternating yang and yin pitches. In common-practice music, such complementary dualities as ‘civil’ and ‘martial’ types of music, and ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ modes (Fig. 2.1a), are still well recognized by performers. Three is a less signifi cant number within the Chinese context, but is nevertheless used in explaining the relationship between heaven, earth and man (sancai) and is also found in some Buddhist concepts. In the historic pitch system, the number three is absolutely central because calculations are based upon the acoustical relationship of two-to-three vibrational lengths (q.v. Chapter Four). In present-day instrumental

9 The number four in South China tends to have negative associations, as with ‘death’ with which it rhymes. Musical associations, at any rate, are weak. The number nine apparently had great signifi cance during the Zhou dynasty. The measurement system during this period was nonary, and this was the basis for calculation of the ‘yellow bell’ pitch (q.v. Nakaseko 1957: 149). Bells of this period were regularly designed with 36 ‘nipples’, four clusters of nine, and they were often assembled in sets of nine. But memory of these meanings today has virtually disappeared, and other nonary associations are relatively weak. Finally, the number ten (a single-digit number in Chinese script) is found occasionally in musical terminology, an example being the Chaozhou ‘ten great suites’ (shi datao)—which, however, are divided into fi ve pieces in one modal system and fi ve in another (q.v. Chapter Four). 32 chapter two a) Two-part Yin-Yang relationship: Hakka ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ modes (q.v. Chapter Four)

b) Five standard instrument positions in Nanguan music (q.v. Chapter One)

paiban pipa dongxiao sanxian erxian c) Eight-phrase Baban form in Chaozhou music (q.v. Chapter Five for examples). [‘conj.’ refers to the four-beat conjunctive motif in the ending phrases]

Phrase: 1 2 3 4 Organization: a (3+2+3) a' b (contrast) a'' Beat structure: 8 beats 8 beats 8 beats 8 beats

5 6 7 8 Coda c (a+b) d (conj.) d (conj.) b' d (conj.) 8 beats 8 beats 8 beats 8 beats 4 beats Fig. 2.1 Numbers and Music, some examples music, however, three has been assigned less signifi cance than other single-digit numbers, though Chaozhou multi-section forms of four or more variations are nevertheless theorized by local scholars as being in three sections (e.g., touban, kaopai, sanban)—presumably for numerological reasons. Five is historically one of the most important numbers in the entire Chinese system, employed in the most ancient texts in classifi cation of the ‘fi ve relationships’ (wulun), ‘fi ve constant [virtues]’ (wuchang), ‘fi ve elements’ (wuxing), ‘fi ve classics’ (wujing) and many other phenomena. The infl uence of this number in rationalizing the pentatonic tonal system and in justifying ensemble size (Fig. 2.1b) will be discussed throughout this book. Six, while generally not quite as powerful a number as fi ve, is of some historical importance in grouping the ‘six arts’ (liuyi ) and ‘six rituals’ (liuli ), both of which include aspects of ritual and music. Six YUELUN: the confucian foundation 33

Fig. 2.2 Eight-part Trigram System The trigram fi gure (bagua) is rarely depicted on musical instruments, but here shown on a water buffalo horn used in Daoist divination (line drawing of an instrument in the author’s collection). In this historic system of divination, eight combinations of solid and broken lines are shown around the perimeter, surrounding images of the interlocking forces of yin and yang at the center. is also found in the organization of yin and yang pitches in the ancient chromatic pitch system. In contemporary practice, it identifi es the title and meaning of the Jiangnan musical form Liuban (‘Six beat’). Eight, the highest of the ancient single-digit numbers of contemporary signifi cance, is thought to derive from the eight-part trigram system of solid and broken lines (bagua) (Fig. 2.2) and the ‘eight directions’ (bafang). This number is especially prominent in cataloging the ‘eight tone’ (bayin) musical instruments believed to be indigenous, in organiz- ing the appropriate number of phrases in the form Baban (‘Eight beat’) (Fig. 2.1c), and in other aspects of instrumental music as well.10

10 In popular usage, eight is also considered the most auspicious number for many day-to-day decisions (as in selecting addresses for homes and in choosing the opening date of 08/08/08 for the Beijing Summer Olympics. 34 chapter two

Most signifi cant among the multiples of these numbers are twelve, thirty-six and sixty-four. Twelve historically is a number of enormous cosmological import, notably in ordering the twelve annual cycles and their associated animals (e.g., year of the dragon, snake, etc.), months of the year, (double) hours of the day, chromatic pitches in the octave, and the correspondences amongst these cyclical phenonema. Twelve was sometimes intermixed with the number thirteen, the latter very often employed (in the earlier dynasties at least) to identify the short intercalary month periodically required by the lunar calendar. Thirteen, while not generally recognized as being associated with Confucian doctrine, is a surprisingly important historic number in music. It is seen in details of instrument construction (e.g., string numbers on historic zithers and harps, pipe numbers on ancient panpipes, reed numbers on mouth-organs, etc.), in the proper number of suites in a repertoire (e.g., the chamber traditions of nanguan and xiansuo), and in North China in the actual constitution of ensembles.11 Following the neo-Confucian movement of the Song dynasty, the number sixteen (eight times two) is assigned greater importance in the construction of ritual instruments (replacing thirteen for the most part) and, later, in the stringing of the popular zheng zither—where, again, sixteen replaces thirteen. Thirty-six, derived from the ritual number six taken six times, has a continuing manifestation in the choreography of the Confucian ritual ceremony, but is rarely seen elsewhere. Sixty-four is of greater signifi - cance in that it derives from the hexagram system, the enlarged trigram system (eight variations of the eight-part trigrams) used in divining and fortune-telling.12 The role of the hexagram system as a foundation for the important Baban form will be examined in Chapter Five. Why have numbers taken on such great importance in Chinese thinking? Marcel Granet explains that the Chinese number system allows insight “into the way things are held together and into the alternating cultural systems in which we may discern the rhythms of cosmic life” (quoted in Eberhard 1983: 211). This system of systems, therefore, is more than just a superfi cial attempt to associate belief with numbers. Rather, it is a rationalization of meanings and relationships, and an exegesis on how beliefs and material culture correspond with unknown

11 Sheng-guan ensembles south of Beijing are ideally comprised of eight melodic instruments and ﬁ ve percussion (q.v. Du 2002: 45–46). 12 W. Eberhard suggests the hexagrams to be “a kind of inspired formula for inter- preting the world” (1983: 298). YUELUN: the confucian foundation 35 forces and observed natural cycles in promotion of desired goals. As Fung Yu-lan puts it, “the mystery of the universe is to be found in numbers.” (1964: 140) Peace and prosperity ﬂ ow from a numerologically harmonized universe—a belief still held by many Chinese people with traditional views.

Dissemination of Values As discussed early in this chapter, imperial China was a stratifi ed society. At the top of the hierarchy, an educated class of scholar-offi cials held the political power. In the middle were merchants who often held a fair amount of economic power. And at the bottom were the peasants and workers who possessed the muscle power.13 There were, in addition, marginal groups, such as socially- despised beggars, boatmen, prostitutes, and entertainers—a bias which is still evident today in the attitudes of the conservative cultures of South China. Within this class system there was open interaction. Scholar-offi cials promoted Confucian ideology ‘downward’ to the lower classes. Landowners and wealthy merchants, in turn, frequently had various ‘upward’ connections with lower-ranking scholars, and they sought to imitate their values.14 But, as Tadao Sakai points out, not all of Confucian thinking was expected to be understood or practiced by the public. Some virtues were expected of scholars only. The general population, nevertheless, was encouraged to play a part in this system of governance (1970: 361). There were several means by which Confucian goals and theories were disseminated. Since the harmonious family unit was considered basic to the stability of civilization, it was incumbent upon each family to oversee the behavior of its members and thus assure a harmony of social relationships. Organized at local levels to aid in the function- ing of government, families were encouraged to establish schools and maintain order. At local ancestral temples (citang), lectures were regularly

13 According to Confucian social theory, beneath the self-assigned high position of the scholar-offi cials, the next three social strata in descending order were farmers (because of their productivity), followed by artisans, with merchants at the bottom. The values of merchants in particular were regularly criticized because “. . . the profi t motive of merchant life corroded personal morality and impeded social harmony” (Hucker 1975: 187). In practice, however, wealth played a more signifi cant role in determining social stratifi cation than theory would suggest, since merchants with expendable income were in the best position to support the years of study needed to pass the examinations. This fact, however, did nothing to stop criticism of their values. 14 For more detailed perspectives on these social inter-relationships, see Reischauer 1973: 140, Stover 1976: 167ff., and other standard sources. 36 chapter two delivered on subjects such as fi lial piety, harmonious relations, moderation of actions, and the value of education (Tong 2006). In this social environment, behavioral standards were promoted as a means toward self-cultivation and, ultimately, improvement of society. The institution of the citang ancestral temple as a locus for the Confucianization of music will be examined later in this chapter. Beyond the infl uence of the family unit, the primary means for dissemination of these ideals was through formal education and the civil-service examination system itself.15 In the imperial system, a male from any class who was intelligent (or at least persistent), willing to be educated in the classical manner, and able to pass the examinations, could rise above his class and receive a government position at some level. Considering that the examinations were based entirely upon knowledge of the Confucian classic texts, the system was effi ciently self-perpetuating in that becoming ‘educated’ also meant becoming indoctrinated in Confucian orthodoxy, of which the value system was central. Familiarity with statements about music in Confucian thought was expected. Finally, the Confucians took every opportunity to actually infuse their ideology into popular literature, theater and music. For example, the local opera traditions regularly contained plots and themes which refl ected favorably upon government-sanctioned interpretations of history and values. In fact, the late imperial governments (c14th–early 20th centuries) tried to control the content of plays and attempted to censor those contrary to accepted norms.16 In this manner, Confucian ideology was effectively diffused to a rural constituency otherwise com- mitted to Daoist and Buddhist values and ceremonies. With the collapse of the imperial system in the early 20th century, the conscious downward promotion of Confucian ideology essentially came to an end.17 During the period of the Cultural Revolution (1966–76), however, what had previously been benign governmental neglect sud- denly became an aggressive campaign against Confucius himself, who

15 For more on the effi cacy of the civil service exams and other sources of Confucian indoctrination, see Sakai 1970: 331–366. 16 For more on this process of dissemination using literature and theater, see Han and Mark 1980: 20, and Ruhlmann 1964: 122–157. 17 The political situation in Taiwan, of course, has been different. When the Nationalists established the Republic of China in Taiwan (1949), Confucianism was declared as its offi cial philosophy and thereby taught in all school systems and otherwise nationally promoted. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 37 was declared to be an ‘enemy of the working people’. How well has Confucian ideology survived these political disruptions and cultural reorientations? Surprisingly well it seems, especially in rural areas. The popular press is now reporting what most observers of Chinese culture have seen for years: that with the repression of Confucian ideology during the mid-20th century, the Chinese people had been left without a value system, resulting in sharp deterioration of behavioral and moral values, to say nothing of the rise in political corruption. In response, educational leaders and parents have been quietly (and even publicly) reviving relevant Confucian values in the schools and elsewhere, without Chinese government objection. Now, Confucian Studies programs are allowed in the curricula of Chinese universities, and a Confucian research institute has been established. Du Yaxiong (2002: x), citing his own fi ndings and the research of Ding Wangdao, states that Confucian ideas over the centuries have been so deeply infused into Chinese society that “. . . in the daily life of the common people, signs of Confucian infl uence can be seen everywhere.” Others have noted that Confucian values “are widely shared by all sectors of society and continue to comprise the main fabric of thought in China to this day . . .” (Dujunco 1994: 161). So, it seems that Confucian ideology never really disappeared in China but simply went underground. In the conservative Chaozhou, Hakka and Minnan villages I have visited, many of these theories, values and number associations are widely recognized, as will be shown below and in the chapters to follow.

Government Theory and Music

For most of two millennia, scholar-ofﬁ cials and court theorists have considered music to be an essential element of government theory. On this the ancient texts are very clear: “music unites” (Xunzi ); “music harmonizes the people’s voices” (Yueji ); “nothing further in government is needed beyond the application of ritual and music” (Yueji ). So important was the effort to bring all cultural activities into harmony that, in both the Zhou and Han dynasties, very large ofﬁ ces of music ( yuefu) were attached to the government to oversee and coordinate this endeavor. Substantial treatises on music appeared. As Ken DeWoskin observes, among the many traditional Chinese arts “only music is sub- jected to individual and sustained discussion by classical philosophers and accorded its own chapters in the Han philosophical and historical collections.” (1982: 7) 38 chapter two

Although popular music also fl ourished among the common people (traditions which did not always reinforce this functional association), the true value of music ( yue) as recorded in the early Confucian texts was its ability to promote the high ideals of Confucian thinking. As such, an impressively formulated theory of music was developed, one of the fi rst bodies of writing in the world associating music with ethics and cosmology. Much of this theory was already developed in the late Zhou treatise on social control, the Xunzi.18 When the Liji (“Record of Rituals”) was assembled two centuries later, many of its statements were borrowed from the earlier work. Citations appearing below are entirely from the Yueji (wg: Yüeh-chi, “Record of Music”), a shorter text mostly derived from these sources.19 While not all of this Confucian music theory is relevant to the common-practice instrumental traditions of today, several concepts are noteworthy for their continuing infl uence.

Essential Concepts The central germinal concept, out of which nearly all others grow, is yue. Yue carries subtle and shifting meanings within different contexts. In its broadest sense, yue may be translated as the ‘ethos of music’, in the Platonic sense of music for moral education. Within this context, the Yueji offers the following comparison between the concepts of yue (‘music’), yin (‘tones’) and sheng (‘sound’): . . . the animals can know the sheng but not the yin. The common people can know the yin but not the yue. Only the junzi [cultivated man] can really know the yue. Therefore, one must discern the sheng in order to comprehend the yin, discern the yin in order to comprehend the yue, and discern the yue in order to comprehend the way of governing—so that the perfect method of governing can be known. (Yueji, C:1.6, K:I7) The term sheng refers to acoustical events that even ‘the animals can know’, essentially meaning ‘sound’. In ancient music theory, the term wusheng is used in reference to the relative pitch positions of the

18 For further discussion of the infl uence of Xun Zi, see Cook 1995b: 372ff. 19 Of the many Yueji editions and translations available (where text divisions do not occur in the same places), I have chosen to cite the specifi c reference paragraphs given in two sources: Scott Cook’s exhaustive 1995a study (identifi ed as ‘c’), and Walter Kaufmann’s 1976 book, Musical References in the Chinese Classics (identifi ed as ‘k’), the latter primarily because it is readily available in western libraries. Most translations appearing below, however, are my own unless otherwise indicated. For a more thorough analysis of the Yueji background and content, see DeWoskin 1982: ch. VI and Cook 1995a. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 39 pentatonic system (i.e., do, re, mi, sol, la). At some later time, perhaps because ‘the animals can know’ this acoustical event, it became negatively associated with impassioned speech, loud sounds and ‘noise’ (shengyin). The term yin refers to actual pitches or tones, the necessary but neutral parameter of music. Scott Cook, in his analysis of the Yueji and other early sources, gives yin as ‘patterned sounds’ (1995b: 48ff.)20 Historically, yin has been associated with specifi cally musical concepts such as sounding music ( yinyue) and the ‘eight-tone’ instruments (bayin). In today’s world, it has retained these more artistic meanings, such as ‘pitch’ ( yingao), ‘timbre’ ( yinse) and ‘scale’ ( yinjie). Yue, in this context, must be understood as a philosophical component of government theory, the strongest example of this meaning being found in li-yue theory. As with li, however, the term yue historically has related meanings. When yue is used in reference to the practice of music, it may appear in identifi cation of either refi ned traditions (those good and proper musics capable of elevating people’s behavior) or in reference to various regional traditions criticized for their lack of refi nement.21 Over time, prefi xes were added to yue, clarifying its type—such as yayue (‘refi ned music’) and suyue (‘popular music’). As noted above, the recent term yinyue refers to most types of sounding music, though more commonly to instrumental than to vocal genres.22 That ‘moderation’ (zhongyong) is another principal theme in the Yueji text comes as no surprise. The early infl uence of zhongyong may be seen in the statement “great music must be simple” (dayue biyi ) (Yueji, C:2.2, K:I17).23 In traditional Confucian thinking, proper music must fall within the grasp of all; technically-diffi cult music belongs to specialists, who are generally assumed to be untutored in Confucian thought. But any music, simple or complicated, is clearly seen as affecting behavior. Again, the Yueji states:

20 For somewhat different interpretations of the historical terms sheng and yin, see Du 1999: 38. 21 For a review of the ancient beliefs concerning good and bad music, see DeWoskin 1982: 21ff., 92. For more on the yue-yin-sheng relationship, see Cheung 1974: 29 and Picken 1962: 40. 22 In the 20th century, several terms came into common usage, including minjian yinyue (literally, ‘among the people music’, though often translated as ‘folk music’) and guoyue (‘national music’ of the concert hall). 23 The term ‘simple’ is chosen here as a contextually reasonable translation of yi, suggesting the sense of being plain and accessible. 40 chapter two

When moderate and easy-going music [dan xie man yi ] prevails, people tend to become healthy and contented. When rough, vigorous, exciting, and overwhelming music prevails, people tend to become militant and infl exible. (trans., Dai 1962: 20; Yueji, C:5.1, K:II9) Moderation was deemed to be essential in maintaining a state of social equilibrium and harmony, and a ‘moderate and easy-going music’ was viewed as a particularly effective means of promotion.24 Cheung Sai-bung (1974: 28) has suggested that an implied, but quite specifi c, Confucian theory of music was set out in the Yueji, in which the terms dan, xie, man and yi must be interpreted as references to proper ritual music style. Following Cheung’s analysis, dan refers to long, broad rhythms; xie means ‘harmonious’ (probably unison) performance; man refers to ‘slow’ tempo; and yi, to ‘simple’ melody. These stylistic qualities are indeed characteristic of the ritual hymns, and commonly believed to serve as audible demonstrations of sincerity, dedication and respect. As suggested in Chapters Five and Six, there may possibly be some manifestation of this stylistic ideal in the slow introductions of traditional Chaozhou and Minnan suite forms. In his examination of post-Han poetry, Ken DeWoskin (1983: 198ff.) identifi es fi ve relevant aesthetic concepts, some obviously derived from the above ideals. Of these, two have clear musical manifestations, historic and contemporary. The fi rst is he (‘harmony’, ‘concordance’), which semantically is related to xie (‘harmonious’, cited above) and, in contemporary usage, is appended to xie in formation of the term xiehe, suggesting the sense of social harmony (q.v. Chapter Six).25 He itself, like many ancient concepts, is open to a range of interpretations, including ‘concordance’, ‘peacefulness’ and, in music, harmony between a tone and its octave or fi fth (as DeWoskin gives it).26 The second concept of particular relevance to music is ya (‘elegant’, ‘refi ned’). While ya may be best known in reference to the musical ideal of yayue (‘refi ned music’, Chapter Three), it is also open to more general interpretations, such as ‘polished’, ‘sophisticated’ and ‘graceful’. DeWoskin found in early poetry the extensional meaning ‘restraint’ in

24 For more on the affective nature of Chinese music based upon the ancient sources, see DeWoskin 1982: Chapters II and III. 25 Xiehe is pronounced as ‘sye-heh’; wg: hsieh-ho. 26 In present-day usage, hesheng (literally, ‘harmonic sound’) means ‘harmony’ in the sense of chord structure and movement. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 41 expression as well. In some circles, musicians more commonly use the term hanxu (literally, ‘covered and controlled’) in reference to expressive restraint, but ya (‘elegance’) is still in the vocabulary of Chaozhou and Minnan musicians. Finally, the author suggests the possibility of a speciﬁ cally musical realization of ya: “. . . in Confucius’ time, ya [apparently] meant adhering to the pentatonic scale rather than including the expanded heptatonic elaborations that periodically grew in inﬂ uence.” (1983: 202) Musicians in South China today seem unaware of this particular meaning, though their music is unquestionably build upon solid pentatonic structures (q.v. Chapter Four). The above concepts, possibly because they have been open to so many interpretations, demonstrate some of the ways in which musical aesthetics (and perhaps even style) derive from and reinforce the deep values of Chinese culture.

Music and Ritual The term yue, as employed in the Yueji and other ancient texts, is always related to the Confucian value system. Associations with zhongyong and with sheng and yin have been mentioned. Similarly, yue is frequently associated with ‘virtue’ (de).27 However, it is in its association with ‘ritual’ (li ) that yue takes on a special responsibility for promotion of stability and behavioral norms: Yue is for uniﬁ cation, li is for differentiation. (Yueji, C:2.1, K:I15) Li controls the people’s minds, yue harmonizes their voices. (Yueji, C:1.8, K:I14) . . . when the early rulers formed the li and yue, their purpose was not to satisfy the mouth, stomach, ear and eye, but rather to teach the people to moderate their likes and hates, and bring them back to the correct direction in life. (Yueji, C:1.6, K:I10) Li and yue were regularly paired as two interlocking concepts of government theory—an association which Dai Shen-yu (1962: 10) appropriately calls the ‘Confucian theory of jurisprudence’. Li (‘ritual’, ‘propriety’) was believed to promote orderly conduct by regulating the people’s diverse thoughts and actions, and systematizing social relationships.

27 In this relationship, virtue (de) is said to be both the root and ultimate goal of art ( yi ). On the subject of music, the Yueji states that “music ( yue) is the highest expression of virtue (de)”. 42 chapter two

Yue (‘music’) was believed to promote social harmony by unifying the ‘people’s voices’, thereby encouraging agreement in social behavior. Thus, by employing li and yue together in a complementary system, a balanced social order was believed to be sustainable. Li-yue theory was heavily promoted by imperial governments. Chang Chi-yun (1965: 41) has shown that these interrelated concepts were traditionally taught in Chinese schools, becoming two of the ‘six arts’ (liuyi ): ritual and music taught for moral education, archery and chariot- ing for physical education, and reading and mathematics for intellectual education. The ‘six arts’ formed part of the Chinese educational curriculum into the early 20th century. The particular association between government theory and music has cast a long shadow over a number of Chinese music genres, from imperial court ritual music to common-practice music. Over the last two millennia, these ideals have seemingly penetrated the sound-waves of Chinese music itself. The most obvious example of this infl uence of ideology upon style can be heard in the music of the annual Confu- cian ritual, with its simple whole-note rhythms, value-oriented texts, ensemble of symbolically-rich instruments and numerological coordi- nation of all parameters.28 But this infl uence did not stop at the gates of the Confucian temple. There is written record stating that, historically, Chaozhou and Min- nan governors used music for the achievement of social control, in a manner similar to the way li-yue theory might have been employed (Chen 1985: 33). It is obvious, however, that people controlled a good amount of their own behavior when acting within family and clan structures, and when observing proper ritual behavior. In South China today, as in the past, ritual observances tend to center on funerals and ancestral ceremonies. As noted in Chapter One, Chinese people maintain very strong family and clan associations and, in some southern cultures, they preserve geneological records stretching back to the Song dynasty. During the later imperial period (Ming, Qing), extended families and clans with fi nancial means built temples (citang) for the purpose of honoring their ancestors. Many are still standing, and new temples have been constructed. In medium-sized towns, there might be several or more citang—though some dozens in larger urban areas—each

28 For English-language accounts of the Confucian ritual and its music, see Lam 1998 and Thrasher 2005: 7–33. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 43 known by a clan surname (e.g., Li, Chen) and supported fi nancially by family contributions. Citang29 temples in southeastern China tend to be imposing buildings, some as large as small Buddhist temples which they sometimes resemble. Internally, citang characteristically have ancestral altars, tables on which ritual vessels and food offerings are placed, and performance space for musicians. While the primary function of these institutions remains as a center for ancestor worship,30 other events are scheduled as well, including funerals, local meetings, recreational events and performances of various types, such as instrumental ensemble music and (space allowing) traditional opera. The point of this discussion is to show that at citang temples, ritual and music come together in a particularly important way. It is clear to me from numerous interviews and observations that in ancestral ritual practice—the most visible demonstration of fi lial piety—music is always an essential part. In present-day Chaozhou and Hakka ancestral rituals, chuida types of music are very commonly performed (e.g., Chaozhou da luogu), with sizhu types performed occasionally (Wang 2006, Luo 2006).31 In the less tradition-bound Cantonese practice, local performers of suona (shawm) and percussion may be engaged, or even tape recordings played (Tong 2006). The ‘ritual–music’ dualism in fact is found in most regions of China—that is, wherever Confucian ideology has penetrated local tradition. For example, the following saying is well known among performing musicians of North China, though its essence is understood in the south as well: If there is no music ( yue), there can be no ritual (li ); If there is no wine, there can be no feast.32 Thus, li-yue is not merely ancient government theory; it survives as local practice. As Du Yaxiong points out, in addition to funeral and ancestor ceremonies, other ritual functions include redefi nitions of family

29 Citang is pronounced as ‘tseh-tang’; wg: tz’u-t’ang. 30 For further information on the multiple ritual functions in ancestral temples, see L.L. Tsai’s “Cadres, Temple and Lineage Organizations, and Governance in Rural China”, The China Journal (2002), vol. 48: 1–33. 31 As introduced in Chapter One, Chaozhou chamber music is known as xianshi (‘string poem’), the equivalent Hakka tradition being sixian (‘silk string’). The softer, more intimate types, Chaozhou xiyue and Hakka qingyue, are not generally performed in this environment. 32 Cited in Du 2002: 35. 44 chapter two relationships and resolution of disputes among neighbors; but it is the music that brings people together (2002: 35ff.). Musicians in the conservative cultures of South China and Taiwan are very aware of these general ideals and aesthetic values (if not the actual quotes from the classic texts). Kao Tzu-ming, writing in 1959, speaks of the power of music to promote virtuous behavior and restrain emotions (1959: 2). Local musicians believe that Minnan “nanguan is an upright music . . . capable of encouraging a good society.” (Yü 1977) In the Minnan tradition preserved in Taiwan, nanguan chamber music is even performed inside Confucian shrines following the annual ritual ceremonies. Chaozhou and Hakka musicians say that their chamber music refl ects the spirit of the Confucian scholar (rujia), encouraging social harmony and peaceful hearts (Luo 2004). The noted Hakka performer Luo Jiuxiang referred to qingyue chamber music as a genre to be performed only by cultivated persons (wenren), in expression of the old and noble ideals of the rujia (as cited in Ju 1995: 193–4). Chen Tianguo (2004) told me that “Chaozhou music fosters high thoughts and good conduct.” I will show in the chapters to follow that Confucian ideals such as ‘moderation’, ‘concordance’ and ‘ritual/propriety’ have served as important foundational pillars for both musical style and performance context in the southern instrumental traditions. In addition, it will be seen that numerological organization is present in repertoire divisions (e.g., the duality of ‘great pieces’ vs. ‘mixed pieces’ in Hakka music), pitch systems (pentatonic modes are standard), numbers of pieces in traditional repertoires (e.g., ‘eight great pieces’ in Jiangnan sizhu, ‘thirteen suites’ in Minnan nanguan), numbers of phrases in instrumental pieces (e.g., ‘eight phrases’ [baban] in Chaozhou music), and numbers of musicians in properly organized ensembles (e.g., three in Chaozhou xiyue, fi ve in nanguan, eight in Jiangnan sizhu). Thus, over many centuries, a ‘Confucianization’ of music was achieved, though this infl uence was felt more strongly within some genres and cultures than others, and it was frequently challenged by other philosophies and always tempered by the aesthetic principles of Daoism and Buddhism.

Other Trends

While Confucian ideology—moral codes, focus on family, awareness of social position—can be considered normative for most of the imperial YUELUN: the confucian foundation 45 period, there have also been powerful and reasoned opposition movements and countercurrents where different views on music were held. Certainly the strongest anti-Confucian movement has been a consequence of Chinese exposure to western ideas during the 20th century. I will comment upon this particular trend in the Postscript, restricting the following discussion to the early imperial period.

Opposition Movements According to Chinese records, the earliest critic of Confucian thought was Mo Zi (wg: Mo Tzu), a philosopher active during the late 5th century b.c., shortly after the lifetime of Confucius. His thoughts are recorded in a book bearing his name.33 Mo Zi came from a social background in which egalitarian and utilitarian views were valued. His criticisms of what he saw as elitist values held by ‘pretentious aristocrats’ and soft implementation of social goals are well known in Chinese philosophy (deBary 1960: 34). Of relevance here is Mo Zi’s attack on the Confucian concept of ritual and music, which he considered to be an irresponsible drain on resources and essentially a waste of time. Fung Yu-lan (1964: 52) cites a central part of this critique: The Confucianists insist on elaborate funerals and the practice of three years of mourning on the death of a parent, so that the wealth and energy of the people are thereby wasted. [ They also] lay stress on the practice of music, leading to an identical result. Mo Zi was challenging a centerpiece of Confucian ideology since, in Confucian government theory, li-yue was an essential doctrine for social control. Furthermore, the proper performance of rituals and music was believed—both in and out of court—to be an obligation the people owed to their ancestors. He recognized the need for social control, but felt that a more socially balanced and utilitarian approach would be more effective than reliance upon rituals, music and other such conventions. Mo Zi saved his sharpest words for the music associated with state rituals. It must be remembered that the court rituals in homage to the imperial ancestors, to heaven (tian), and later in honor of Confu- cius himself, were extravagant affairs, requiring the participation of many dozens of musicians and dancers, and enormous expense in the

33 Useful summaries of the philosophy of Mo Zi can be found in Fung 1964: 49ff., deBary 1960: 34ff., and other standard sources. 46 chapter two construction of ritual instruments (bronze bells, stone chimes, mouth organs and others). In a chapter entitled “Denunciation of Music” ( fei yue), he articulated his position with clarity: The people have three worries: that the hungry might not obtain food, the cold might not obtain clothing, and the work-weary might not obtain rest. These three are the great worries of the people. This being the case, try striking for them great bells, beating singing drums, pulling the strings of qin and se zithers, and blowing upon yu and sheng reed mouth-organs, while waving shields and axes in dance—will the ﬁ nancial resources for clothing and food of the people be obtainable at this point? I believe there would be no guarantee of this. (trans., Cook 1995b: 189)34 The author returns to this theme again and again, citing these and other extravagances of the state. He concludes that “making [ritual] music is wrong.” Mo Zi’s views were mostly ignored by later philosophers and government theorists, until rediscovered and transformed during the 20th century.35 Regional traditions were not mentioned by Mo Zi. But in mainstream late Zhou Confucian texts, during the ‘Warring States’ period several mischievous states were regularly identiﬁ ed for their performance of music deemed to be decadent, even vulgar. The states of Zheng (wg: Cheng) and Wei received the sharpest criticism.36 For example, the Zuozhuan text records the impressions of a Duke Zha (wg: Cha) on listening to the music from various northern states. While the music from the state of Lu (present-day Shandong province and the home of Confucius) is praised in glowing terms, the music of neighboring Zheng (present-day Henan province) is severely criticized for being ‘overbearing’, and possibly too complex for the duke’s ears.37 Similarly, the Lunyu

34 For a thorough analysis of this and related statements by Mo Zi, see Cook 1995b: 146–201. 35 A similar but more muscular opposition movement emerged in the mid-20th century with the ascendancy of communism under Mao Zedong. During the Cultural Revolution in particular (1966–76), the traditonal class system was turned upside down, and all institutions and practices associated with Confucianism were simply forbid- den—again including traditional ritual observances and music. 36 References to the music of Zheng and Wei are found in the Lunyu, Yueji and other early sources. For translations of these texts, see Kaufmann 1976: 33 and Cook 1995a: 32–33. 37 In Ken DeWoskin’s analysis of Duke Zha’s impressions, it was acceptable for music to be ‘straightforward’ but not ‘overbearing’, ‘winding about’ but not ‘bending over’, and essentially gently embellished but not fl amboyantly so (1982: 21–27). These were presumably characteristics of the music of Lu, but not of Zheng. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 47 text quotes the master as saying “I am disgusted at how the ‘sounds of Zheng’ confuse the yayue.” Signifi cantly, the legacy of this region’s offensive music is still found in today’s vocabulary, the term zhengsheng (literally, ‘sounds of Zheng’) used in reference to any music perceived as being overbearing and decadent. Therefore, it is clear that the music of the Zheng state represented a prominent regional countercurrent to the Confucian ideal during this early period, perhaps not unlike the real regional differences heard today in South China. The ascendancy of Buddhism just prior to and during the Tang dynasty (618–906 a.d.) must also be mentioned. Unlike the moralistic tenor of Confucian doctrine, Indian Buddhism addressed concerns of a more spiritual nature, such as the impermanence of life and sudden enlightenment. Initially, these ideas produced a tension with Confucian social theory, for which social stability was the basic orientation. Over time, however, as Buddhist ideas were Sinicized and some absorbed into the native Daoist philosophy as well, they were seen as being less oppositional. Whatever Buddhist infl uences were felt in Chinese instrumental music, they most commonly have been explained as if they were Daoist ideas.

Daoism and the Creative Ideal Although Chinese civilization was most strongly inﬂ uenced by Confucian ideology, the arts were stimulated by other philosophies as well—most notably Daoism. Daoism (formerly spelled ‘Taoism’) is attributed to the legendary founders Lao Zi (wg: Lao Tzu) and Zhuang Zi (wg: Chuang Tzu). While almost nothing is known about the life and times of Lao Zi, he is generally assumed to have been active sometime during the 4th century b.c. Zhuang Zi is known to have lived during the late 4th century b.c. and into the early 3rd century b.c. The bulk of early Daoist thinking is found in two books ascribed to these philosophers, Lao Zi’s Daode Jing (wg: Tao-te Ching) and Zhuang Zi’s book carrying his name—neither deﬁ nitively dated.38 During the 3rd and 4th centuries a.d., there was considerable interaction between Daoism, Confucianism and the newly-introduced Buddhism, resulting in the absorption of some Buddhist concepts into

38 The Daode Jing is variously translated as the “Classic of the Way and its Power”, “Classic of the Dao and its Virtue”, and similar variants. ‘Dao’ is the pinyin spelling (and Mandarin pronunciation) of ‘tao’ (the Wade-Giles spelling). Zhuangzi may be translated as “Writings of Master Zhuang”. 48 chapter two

Daoist thinking (Chang 1963: 25ff.). Chinese scholars tend to believe, however, that most key Daoist concepts (e.g., wuwei, ziran) originated in China. Following this period of Buddhist ascendancy, Daoism was revived on two levels: the literati maintained Daoism as a philosophy (calling themselves daojia), a movement with a strong creative impulse; and the common people adopted it as a popular religion (daojiao). Philosophical Daoism, unlike Confucianism, addresses “issues of life that [bear] on the individual and nature, our minds and our physical selves, our vitality, creativity, and longevity” (DeWoskin 2002: 97). The individual interacting with nature is key. Thus, Daoist sages and students retreated to the mountains where, in natural settings, they attempted to regulate their breathing and harmonize with nature. As depicted by artists over the centuries, these wanderers sometimes carried qin zithers with them to assist in this harmonization process (though, alternatively, xiao end-blown bamboo ﬂ utes were used as well). In today’s world, this ideology still has appeal among traditionalists. Like many mystical ways of thinking, Daoism thrives on what seem (to the outsider, at least) to be paradoxical conditions—that Dao (‘the Way’) is unnamable; that Dao may be understood only by way of ‘natural’ absorption, not through conscious effort; that in ‘emptiness’ (a valued quality) there is fullness of space, and so forth. Indeed, one of the essential concepts in Daoism is wuwei (literally ‘non-action’), a philosophical position suggesting that problems are best solved (decisions best made) by simply taking no action or, more accurately, by taking no unnatural action.39 The Daoist philosophy of creativity is of great relevance to Chinese art and music, though it tends to remain hidden within its own enigmas and under the norms of Confucianism. But many central statements in the text of the Zhuangzi can be clearly understood: Those who rely upon the arc, the line, compasses and the square to make correct forms injure the natural construction of things . . . Things in their ultimate reality are curved without the help of arcs, straight without lines, round without compasses, and rectangular without right angles . . . In this manner all things create themselves from their own innermost reﬂ ections. (Zhuangzi, Ch. 8; trans., Chang 1963: 66)

39 For more on the backgrounds of Daoism, see Fung 1964, Chang 1963, and other standard sources. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 49

Daoist thinkers felt that the creative process must not be enslaved by rules, but that the best creative results should be achieved through natural means and human intuition. The term ziran, meaning ‘naturally’, ‘spontaneously’ or ‘intuitively from the self ’, best embodies this notion.40 In the analysis of Fung Yu-lan (1964: 100), the opposite of this would be ‘artifi ciality’, an undesirable quality in the arts. Ziran was an especially infl uential aesthetic ideal in the ‘brush arts’ of poetry, painting and calligraphy. In the painting tradition of wenrenhua (the literati school), admittedly a fusion of Confucian and Daoist ideals, artists attempted to capture the essence of a subject rather than its photographic likeness. The 11th-century artist Ouyang Xiu summarized this ideal: “In ancient painting, they painted yi [the idea], not xing [the outer appearance].” (trans. Levenson 1957: 329) Having captured ‘the idea’, the subject was then organized and presented in a natural, unplanned ‘rhythm’, the formal principles of single-point perspective and ‘vanish- ing point’ thought to be unnecessarily restrictive and inappropriate.41 An example of this style, chosen from the painting genre known as ‘bamboo and rock’, is reproduced in Fig. 2.3. In this style of painting, the bamboo is shown in an animate state of growth and movement, in contrast to the rock which represents stasis and stability—one might say a Confucian harmonization of opposites seen through a Daoist lens. All lines are drawn naturally (without artifi cial visual aids), the pair of images emerging with the effect of ‘spontaneity’. Zhuang Zi did not theorize music as Confucius had. His references to music are few, sometimes paradoxical, and always open to interpretation. Quite surprisingly, there has been the most minimal analysis in western scholarship of the Zhuang Zi aesthetic as applied to music.42 The root of this aesthetic, again, is found in the concept of ‘spontaneity’, for which there are several references in the text. Appearing within

40 Ziran is pronounced as “dz-rahn” (wg: tzu-jan). 41 These stylistic traits are examined in Santosh Desai 1966: 61, Sullivan 1966: 181, Levenson 1957: 326, and other sources on creativity in the Chinese arts. 42 As seen in the next footnote, several sinologists have translated the entire text of the Zhuangzi, but their translations of musical terms consistently fail to capture the musical meanings. A very sensitive translation and analysis is given by Scott Cook (1995b: 302–371), though his entire focus is upon a metaphysical exploration of the sounds of heaven (tian), of earth and of human beings—believed to be the original text. Cook omits discussion of Chapter 14 (Tianyun) because he suspects it may have been written by a later disciple. I am prepared to accept this chapter, however, as an integral part of the Daoist philosophy ascribed to Zhuang Zi, just as early Confucian texts of unprovable origin have been ascribed to Kong Zi. 50 chapter two

Fig. 2.3 “Bamboo” Brush painting in the ‘bamboo and rock’ genre by Guan, Guangzhou, (2006). Author’s collection. the context of a musical performance he heard, Zhuang Zi cites ‘the mandate of spontaneity’, and further observes that this music ‘was not rooted in a strict form.’ These ideals merge in the observation that [the music] was adjusted to the mandate of spontaneity (ziran); . . . it ﬂ owed unpredictably without submitting to strict tonal organization (sheng).43 (Zhuangzi, Ch. 14)

43 In this quotation, sinologists have translated the ﬁ rst phrase (ziran zhi ming) as ‘the command of spontaneity’ (Watson 1968: 157), ‘the melodious law of spontaneity’ (Giles 1926: 178), and in similar ways. For the second phrase (bu zhu chang sheng), however, interpretations vary considerably: “[the music] bowed before no constant tone” (Watson 1968: 158); “[it proceeded] in never to be anticipated chords” (Giles 1926: 178); and “[it was] not following any regular sounds” (Legge 1891: 349). Today, the term sheng is commonly translated as ‘sound’, though in some contexts ‘tone’ is more appropriate (but not ‘chords’). I have chosen ‘tonal organization’ as a contextually reasonable translation, given Zhuang Zi’s similar statement about spacial organization in art. YUELUN: the confucian foundation 51

So, here we see a core of performance ideals in which ‘spontaneity’ guides both interpretation and—in some way—the fl ow of the musical line. It is unlikely that Zhuang Zi is advocating spontaneous ‘improvisation’ (as this term is often understood in the West), but he seems to suggest the presence of spontaneous embellishment, and of structural or tonal irregularities—possibly forms which were fl uid and pitches which were unsteady. Was a performance of qin zither music being described? Such creative and organizational concepts were accepted by the literati of wenrenhua and by musicians of similar persuasion. An obvious example of this fl exibility is found in qin performance, where sectional repeats tend to be irregular and rhythms (which are not specifi ed in the old notations) typically change from one performer to another. In the southern chamber music traditions (e.g., Chaozhou xiyue), basic rhythms are necessarily fi xed (because ensemble performers must agree on this element), but phrase lengths tend to be irregular, embellishments fl exible and spontaneous, and some pitches actually ‘shaken’ ( yaosheng) (q.v. Chapter Six). That the inner ‘spirit’ ( yi ) dominates the outer ‘form’ (xing) also explains much of the fl exibility in Chinese musical style, especially the presence of spontaneous interpretations and, in repertoire, rejection of artifi cially regular (South Asian cyclic-type) musical phrases.44 Today, the concepts of ziran and yi or quyi (‘musical idea’ or underlying spirit) are always on the minds of musicians, whether they are attempting to understand meanings of the fl owery titles of pieces or seeking clues to interpretation. Although it may seem that Daoist creative ideals are antithetical to the very sober ethical tenets of Confucianism, these qualities in fact have had a complementary relationship—much as the forces of yin and yang have interacted through the ages. As C.P. Fitzgerald (1961: 343) states, the artist (he could have said ‘musician’) was often one and the same person, “Confucian in outlook, though Daoist in inspiration.”45

44 Cyclical phrase organization—the regular repetition of ﬁ xed-length phrases or metric structures—is characteristic of Indian tala theory and practice, Javanese gongan cycles, West African percussion-based music, and other world music systems. For examples of irregular phraseology in the Chinese chamber ensemble repertoire, see Figures 4.1 and 5.1, and the phrase subdivisions in Fig. 5.2. 45 This observation has been expressed in many different ways, such as “Confucian in public, Daoist in private” and “Confucian by day, Daoist by night”.

CHAPTER THREE

QINGSHANG MUSIC AND THE HISTORIC LEGACY

Xianghe were old songs from the Han dynasty. Silk and bamboo [instruments] were blended harmoniously (Songshu, c500 AD)

Qingshang music . . . was introduced from the Central Plain into the Minnan region during the early Tang dynasty (Lü Chui-kuan 1982: 10)

In this chapter I briefl y sketch the historic development of Chinese ‘silk-bamboo’ (sizhu) ensembles, with particular focus on ensemble types, musical instrument symbology and instrumental genres. Such an outline of the general trends in Chinese music history will provide a context for understanding the infl uential Confucian ideology, and a framework against which local perceptions of ancient survivals can be evaluated. It is diffi cult to periodize the emergence of sizhu music. Unlike the time-honored traditions of court ritual music and qin zither repertoire, both of which were carefully documented in written sources through the ages, the instrumental entertainment genres have been generally neglected by imperial scholars. When cited in the literature, earlier historic names—such as qingshang—were employed. These traditions have also undergone changes over the years as new instruments and melodic ideas were introduced. Fortunately, a great deal of evidence has been found in the form of paintings, reliefs and instruments preserved in museum collections, thus making it possible to piece together very broad lines of development. I will start with an overview of the earliest common-practice musical instruments, with some emphasis upon their rich symbolic legacies.1

1 Musical instruments will not be examined in depth here. Common-practice instruments are well documented in Chinese-language sources, most accessibly in the encyclopedic publications by Liu Dongsheng (1987, 1992), Yang Yinliu’s monumental two-volume history of Chinese music (1981), and the numerous articles in the journal Yueqi (“Musical instruments”). English-language surveys can be found in Moule’s classic study of 1908 and Thrasher’s monograph, Chinese Musical Instruments (2000). For more detailed descriptions of the most common instrument types, the best sources are The 54 chapter three

The Ancient Heritage

Zhou Symbology In the Zhouli text (c3rd century b.c.), ‘silk’ (si ) and ‘bamboo’ (zhu) are two of the eight categories of musical instruments cited in the bayin (‘eight tone’) system of instrument classifi cation.2 During the Zhou period, ‘silk’ instruments included only those zithers with strings of silk, notably the qin, se and zheng. Of these three, the zheng alone would be accepted into common-practice music making. Lutes and fi ddles were not mentioned. ‘Bamboo’ instruments were exclusively fl ute types, notably the paixiao (panpipe), xiao (vertical fl ute) and chi (transverse fl ute). The xiao would ultimately be accepted into sizhu ensembles, the other fl ute-types retaining closer associations with ritual music of the court. One other important ancient instrument listed within the bayin system (under the ‘gourd’ category) is the sheng mouth- organ, an instrument still employed in the common-practice traditions of northern and eastern China. Instruments listed in the remaining fi ve categories were used primarily in imperial rituals. While little is known about the actual music performed within either context, it is clear that Zhou ensembles were composed of mixed winds, strings and percussion—certainly one of the earliest combinations of such instrument types worldwide.3 The instruments xiao, zheng and sheng have remained in continuous usage since the mid-Zhou period. As seen below, all three refl ect elements of Confucian ideology.

New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd ed. (2001) and The Garland Encyclopedia of World Music, vol. 7 (2002). Information on the instrument variants used in the regional sizhu traditions is more diffi cult to fi nd, but Dujunco’s dissertation on Chaozhou music (1994) contains a good chapter on local instruments, as does Witzleben’s book on Jiangnan sizhu (1995). 2 The bayin, as identifi ed in the Zhouli (wg: Chou Li, “Rituals of Zhou”, c3rd century b.c.) and other texts, is a classifi cation system which separates the instruments of the period into eight divisions based upon resonating media or materials used in construction—metal, stone, clay, skin, silk, wood, gourd and bamboo. In so classifying these ritual instruments, one of the primary motivations of scholars was to establish a system of cosmological correspondence with the eight trigrams (geomantic system of solid and broken lines), eight compass points, and other meaningful eight-part systems. For a useful Chinese-language summary of the bayin, see Cheung 1974: 31ff.; for brief English-language accounts, see Liang 1985: 68ff. and Thrasher 2000: 10–22. 3 This observation has been made by various Chinese musicologists, such as Gao Houyong (1981: 6), based upon statements in the classic texts and upon visual evidence as well, such as stone rubbings and unearthed ensembles of instruments such as those found in the 5th-century b.c. tomb site of Zeng Houyi (q.v. Zhongguo 1996: 187ff., and the English-language articles in So 2000). QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 55

Fig. 3.1 Xiao end-blown ﬂ utes, two types Left: zizhu xiao (‘purple bamboo xiao’), from Gujin Tushu Jicheng (1725) Right: dongxiao (‘open-ended xiao’) or chiba, contemporary line drawing

The xiao end-blown notched ﬂ ute during the Zhou dynasty was known by the name di, though little is known about the construction of this instrument.4 By the Tang dynasty (8th–9th centuries), a variant known as chiba (literally ‘1.8 feet’) had emerged. Since a number of chiba ﬂ utes

4 In late Zhou terminology, the old panpipe was known as xiao, a term which subsequently came to identify the vertical notched fl ute. The panpipe subsequently became known as paixiao. The vertical notched fl ute (xiao of the present day) was originally called di, a term which subsequently came to identify the transverse fl ute (di or dizi ). Xiao is pronounced as ‘syao’; wg: hsiao. 56 chapter three of this period are preserved at the Shôsôin Repository in Japan, its early construction is well documented (q.v. Hayashi 1967). Minnan musicians still use the name chiba, together with dongxiao (‘open-ended xiao’), though the Minnan style of fl ute in use today—which is larger than the Tang fl ute—emerged several centuries after the Tang. Two basic types of end-blown fl ute are shown in Fig. 3.1, the zizhu xiao (‘purple bamboo xiao’), which is most commonly identifi ed with northern regions of China, and the dongxiao (or chiba), which is performed primarily in Minnan music—but sometimes in Chaozhou and Cantonese musics as well. The end-blown fl ute is considered the most noble of Chinese wind instruments, believed capable of producing a ‘natural’ tone quality (as bamboo is a natural material), and possessing important symbolic associations with the Confucian ethical system. For example, in the Han dynasty book Fengsu Tongyi, the name di (the Zhou period name) was likened to the Confucian concept of di, a different character meaning “to wash away evil from the mind”. To play the di was to demonstrate a pure mind. Other associations were drawn between the Tang-Song chiba and the cosmologically-correct pitch system (lülü). For example, the chiba, at 1.8 (Chinese) feet in length, was constructed at twice the vibrating length of the ‘yellow bell’ pitch pipe (huangzhong, a pipe of 0.9 feet, the symbolic foundation of the empire); thus, its pitch was believed to be in correspondence with imperial order. Xiao types today may be found in all regional sizhu traditions. The zheng zither, while dating from the same early period, was not associated with the rituals of the court. It was, however, accepted by the literati (and by those aspiring to their values) as an instrument for entertainment and self-cultivation. The zheng is a multi-stringed zither, with a pitch-defi ning bridge under each of its strings.5 Historically, silk strings were used, though by the early 20th century, strings of copper and (later) steel had become standard. String numbers increased from twelve or thirteen, well documented in Tang sources, to sixteen or more today.6 As noted in Chapter Two, the numbers 12, 13 and 16 were of considerable symbolic signifi cance during their respective periods. A

5 The zheng is pronounced as ‘jeng’ in Mandarin; wg: cheng. 6 Older Chaozhou musicians claim that 13-stringed zheng zithers were being played into the early 20th century (Chen 2006). The Cantonese composer Liu Tianyi was known to have played on a 13-stringed instrument, of which there is a photo. In present-day practice, Chinese musicians most frequently perform on larger instruments with 18, 21 or 23 strings. See the ‘zheng’ entry in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd ed. (2001). QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 57

Fig. 3.2 Chaozhou zheng Traditional Chaozhou style with 16 strings and top-mounted tuning pegs; contemporary line drawing

16-string Chaozhou-style zheng is depicted in Fig. 3.2, its tuning pegs mounted through the soundboard (unlike northern construction, q.v. Fig. 3.5) and its edges inlaid with mother-of-pearl motifs. Occupying an elevated position similar to that of the northern scholar’s qin, the zheng in South China is speciﬁ cally associated with the esteemed values of Confucianism, most particularly among the Chaozhou and Hakka cultures. The sheng mouth-organ, with an essentially unbroken history of close to three thousand years, may well be the oldest Chinese instrument in continuous usage. Existing in small and large types since about the 12th century b.c., the sheng had achieved its present-day form by the 8th century a.d.7 Because of the shape of its two wing-like ranks of pipes and neck-like blow-pipe protruding from the wind-chest, the sheng acquired strong associations with the mythical Chinese phoenix ( fenghuang) and its attributes, and with some Confucian values as well.8 Today, it is regularly employed in Jiangnan sizhu and throughout North China in chuida types of music. The sheng has appeared in South China from time to time, but as a result of conﬂ icting temperament systems and far from the northern center of reed construction and maintenance, it has fallen from usage in the South.

Han Instruments and Ensemble Prototypes By the time of the Han dynasty (206 b.c.–220 a.d.), three broad ensemble types were documented

7 This timeline is based upon analysis of the Chinese mouth-organs preserved in the Shôsôin repository in Japan (Hayashi 1967). The mainstream Chinese sheng has 17 bamboo pipes circularly inserted into a wind-chest of gourd or wood (more recently of metal), with a free-beating reed of copper alloy mounted at the bottom of all but three or four pipes. Reed numbers traditionally total 13. 8 For a more detailed examination of sheng history and symbolic associations, see Thrasher 1996: 1–20. 58 chapter three in imperial sources—ensembles for state ritual, procession, and entertainment (Han 1979: 2). Ritual ensembles performed yayue (‘refi ned music’) and/or other offi cially-sanctioned music in celebration of the ancient Chinese ideals and in honor of the sage, Confucius. Performing at Confucian and other shrines, ritual ensembles employed the most ancient of Chinese instruments, notably sets of bronze bells and stone chimes, qin and se zithers, and other bayin instruments. Processional ensembles, known by such names as guchui (‘drumming and blowing’) and, much later, chuida (‘blowing and hitting’), performed primarily for auspicious outdoor processionals and at funerals—a practice that continues today. Historically, these instruments included long horns, transverse fl utes, reed instruments and drums—all instruments with loud, projecting volumes for outdoor performance. Entertainment ensembles performed a lighter music to be enjoyed within the walls of the palace by attentive audiences. During the later Tang dynasty (c9th century), this type of music would generally become known as yanyue (‘banquet music’). Instruments were mostly those which had been introduced from cultures to the west, especially from India and Central Asia, though some indigenous Chinese instruments were employed as well. Instruments imported into China arrived in several waves. While most were accepted into the common-practice instrumentarium, these instruments were not usually employed in state rituals and they did not acquire symbolic associations with Confucian ideology. Among the fi rst to be introduced, along with the material culture and ideas associated with Buddhism, were the pipa lute and dizi fl ute. The pipa, well documented from the Han dynasty onward, was initially a generic name for different types of plucked lutes, including the pear-shaped pipa and round-bodied ruanxian.9 Within a few centuries of its appearance, the horizontally-held four-string pipa became fashionable in court entertainment ensembles of the Tang-Song periods. (An early 12th-century line drawing of the four-string pipa is shown in Fig. 3.5.) As shown in reliefs and paintings, this early pipa was held in a horizontal position and plucked with a

9 A third type is the straight-neck, fi ve-string lute known as wuxian, an instrument which over time disappeared. For an early history of pipa types, see Myers 1992. The ruanxian is commonly known as ruan, a descendant of which is now used in the Chinese orchestra and occasionally in sizhu music. The emergence of the yueqin and qinqin lutes from the ruan is recognized by most scholars, but has yet to be well researched. The yueqin (‘moon lute’) is used primarily in Beijing opera accompaniment, but not in sizhu. The qinqin (‘Qin [dynasty] lute’), with its distinctively scalloped sound box, is a member of both the Cantonese and Chaozhou ensembles. QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 59 large hand-held plectrum (Fig. 3.4). From the Ming dynasty onward, it has been held vertically and plucked with elongated fi ngernails of the player’s right hand.10 The pipa has become an indispensible instrument in most southern chamber ensembles, and in Minnan music (where it is still held horizontally) it is one of the lead instruments. Of somewhat less importance to the southern chamber traditions is the dizi transverse fl ute. It is generally accepted that the dizi was introduced into China from Central Asia (Xiyu) early in the Han period. This particular fl ute, without the membrane hole characteristic of later fl utes, was used in outdoor military ensembles (q.v. Cheung 1974: 96–97).11 During the Tang, the fl ute hengdi (‘transverse fl ute’) was employed in court entertainment ensembles together with bili (‘reed- pipe’) and sheng. It was probably not until the 16th century, when the fl ute-type known as qudi (‘song fl ute’) became a dominant instrument in kunqu classical opera accompaniment, that the transverse fl ute was actually accepted as a chamber instrument in the Jiangnan region of eastern China.12 In South China, however, the transverse fl ute would not become as important as the xiao vertical fl ute. Two related genres of Han dynasty (and post-Han) entertainment music cited in early Chinese sources are xianghe ge and qingshang yue. While our knowledge of these genres is limited and no music from this period survives, their general nature at least has been recorded, together with occasional references to instrumentation. Xianghe ge (‘harmonious song’) appears to have been a type of ‘art song’ in vogue among scholar- offi cials and merchants in urbanized areas of North China.13 According to period references, these songs were structured in a sectional form and accompanied by string and wind instruments, the singer maintaining beats with a long stick ( jie).14

10 In many contemporary traditions, artiﬁ cial nails of plastic are now used, though in the conservative regions of South China, performance with natural nails is still seen. 11 The dizi is pronounced as ‘di-dz’ in Mandarin; wg: ti-tzu. The presence of an additional hole, to be covered by a thin vibrating membrane of bamboo skin (dimo), was ﬁ rst mentioned in the early 12th-century treatise Yueshu. 12 Kunqu opera emerged during the 16th century in a region west of Shanghai. The qudi (or kundi ) was employed as lead instrument in the accompanying ensemble. 13 Xianghe ge in wg: hsiang-ho ko. For an English-language sketch of Han period music, see Liang 1985: 76ff. 14 See Yang 1981:114 and 144 for further information on the structure and instrumentation of these genres. 60 chapter three

Xianghe were old songs from the Han dynasty. Silk and bamboo [instruments] were blended harmoniously. One person with a beater ( jie) also sang. (Songshu, c500 a.d.) Accepting this account, we then realize that sizhu as an ideal has been known in China for more than ﬁ fteen hundred years.15 The speciﬁ c instrumentation of xianghe ge can only be inferred from a related reference (Yuefu Shiji ) of nearly two centuries later: winds: di, chi, sheng strings: qin, se, zheng, pipa percussion: jie These eight instruments, with the exception of di and pipa, are believed to be indigenous.16 Qingshang yue (‘pure music’), a genre which emerged after the Han dynasty, also used instruments to accompany song and dance.17 Fol- lowing the great southward migrations from the Central Plain during the 4th century, qingshang music seems to have developed from a fusion of xianghe ge (which in some ways it appears to resemble) and the local traditions of central China (Yang 1981: 145–6). Its form was suite- like, a series of tunes performed sequentially. Poetry of the period mentions the use of ‘silk and bamboo’ instruments, most probably some combination of those cited above. This genre may never have disappeared, for Lü Chui-kuan believes that “Qingshang music . . . was introduced from the Central Plain into the Minnan region during the early Tang dynasty” (1982: 10). As noted in Chapter One, musicians from both Minnan and Hakka cultures still use the term qingshang in reference to their elegant chamber music, though (again) there is no

15 Gao Houyong is one of several scholars to have recognized that sizhu types of music existed from the Han period onward, though he doubts whether specifi c pieces were passed down to the present (1989: 19). 16 The instrumentation of xianghe ge apparently varied in detail from one mode to another (Yang 1981: 144). The newly-introduced pipa probably replaced the native ruan lute, which Yang Yinliu notes was named as an instrument used in the recent past. Reference to the di is not clear, since this term was used during the Han to identify the vertical fl ute; from the Tang onward it refers to the transverse fl ute. This reference is all the more perplexing when reading that at times the di and sheng performed together, a duet combination which in recent times remains common, but always with transverse fl ute. The softer vertical fl ute, usually pitched a fi fth lower, could scarcely be heard above the relatively loud sheng. 17 Qingshang yue in wg: ch’ing-shang yüeh. QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 61 evidence of actual music surviving from these early periods. It can be seen, however, from the names of these two genres—‘harmonious song’ and ‘pure music’—that they most likely would have received quite strong Confucian infl uence.

The Eclectic Tang

The solemn yayue is believed to have slowly disappeared after the Han dynasty, in large part because of the popularization of Buddhism, both in and out of the imperial courts. It is also known that the post- Han emperors complained about the low aesthetic appeal of the old yayue.18 During the period of the Sui and Tang dynasties in particular (581–618, 618–907), Confucian infl uence in music appears to have been negligible. The entertainment ensembles, however, grew in popularity within the courts and received offi cial patronage during the centuries to follow. Known collectively as yanyue (‘banquet music’) during the Sui and Tang, entertainment ensembles drew upon the talents of skilled musicians and dancers from outside the court. Such ensembles performed a wide variety of music for different social occasions, not merely for banquets (Yang 1981: 217). As such, yanyue almost certainly infl uenced the direction of the later sizhu traditions.

Silk Road Inﬂ uences Literary and visual evidence concerning makeup of entertainment ensembles from the post-Han period through the Tang dynasty is abundant. This is the earliest period for which we have details about the early development of the instrumental ensemble. First to consider are the visual images in pre-Tang art. As noted above, Buddhist ideas and material culture were introduced into China beginning in the 2nd century by way of the ‘silk road’ connecting Central Asia with northwest and north-central China. Along this dusty route, numerous religious shrines built into cliffside caves contain carved and painted larger-than-life statues/paintings of the Buddha, bodhisattvas, servants, dancers and musicians. These monuments are still preserved more than 1500 years later. Earliest are the Dunhuang Caves in present- day northwestern Gansu province, begun in the mid-4th century with

18 Scholars of the neo-Confucian movement in the early 12th century attempted to revive yayue, and traces of it remain to this day in the Taiwan Confucian ceremonies (q.v. Cheung 1974: 64ff., Picken 1969: 76ff., and Thrasher 2005: 7–33). 62 chapter three continuing artistic activity through the 10th century. In the 5th- and 6th-century Dunhuang wall murals, musicians are shown playing pipa, xiao, di, konghou (harp) and other instruments. Ensembles of these same instruments, shown in later paintings of the 7th and 8th centuries, also include zheng, sheng, bili (reed-pipe), paiban (clappers), tongbo (small cymbals), small drums and other lutes.19 To the east of Dunhuang are the Yungang Caves in present-day Shanxi province, dating from the late 5th century, and the Longmen and Gongxian Caves in present-day Henan province, both from the early 6th century. In the reliefs and paintings at these sites, this same basic instrumentarium is depicted. Ensemble distribution of two or three wind instruments (of mixed types), one or two plucked strings (usually including pipa), and one or two percussion instruments (usually including yaogu hourglass drum) is fairly representative. A similar small ensemble from a Gansu province site is pictured in Fig. 3.3. During this pre-Tang period, numerous instruments were introduced from India and Central Asia into China, notably the vertical harp, the reed-pipe bili, bronze cymbals and hour-glass drums (q.v. Cheung 1975: 219ff.). The bili reed-pipe is a short bamboo tube with a large double reed inserted at the top and nine (later eight) ﬁ ngerholes. This reed-pipe survives in northern music by the name guanzi. But because

Fig. 3.3 Pre-Tang chamber ensemble 4th–5th-century tomb painting (Gansu province); line clariﬁ cation, C. Fan R to L: zheng, pipa, xiao and yaogu

19 A representative selection of photographs appears in volume 9 of the series Zhongguo Yinyueshi Cankao Tupian (“Chinese music history in reference pictures”) (Zhongguo 1964); but see also Zhao 1992: 32ff., and Zhongguo 1998: 75ff. For an accessible and informative English-language overview of the instruments depicted in the Dunhuang caves, see Zheng 1993: 4–56. QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 63 its tone quality is relatively strident and overpowering for sizhu-type ensembles, it is seldom used in the South (though the variant known as houguan is employed occasionally in Cantonese music). While the Indian harps and drums were very popular before and during the Tang dynasty and most were passed on to Korea and Japan during this period of cultural contact, their importance in Chinese ensembles diminished greatly when China closed its doors to foreign inﬂ uence in the 10th and 11th centuries.

Court Entertainment Ensembles In the late Sui and early Tang dynasties, entertainment ensembles received ofﬁ cial patronage at court. Edward Schafer, in his marvelous account of Tang exotica, The Golden Peaches of Samarkand (1963), writes: For many centuries, the music of the West [ i.e., Central Asia] had had its admirers in China, but under the Sui emperors there was a great vogue for it, which continued into Tang times. As Western nations were brought under Chinese control, their music was “captured”, as it were, and subsequently was demanded as “tribute” from them. Foreign orchestras were incorporated into the mass of court employees and were required to perform for courtiers and vassals in “informal” palace entertainments. The so-called ‘tribute orchestras’ of this period were comprised of ‘talented slaves’, as Schafer puts it—“men and women sent to the Tang court as royal gifts”, together with beautiful female entertainers and various sorts of human curiosities such as dwarfs, magicians and ﬁ re-eaters (1963: 49–51). Indeed, the emperors of this period became so enamored with the exotic cultures associated with Buddhism, that they appointed many hundreds of musicians and dancers to the court,20 organized in as many as ten resident ensembles—the shibuji (literally, ‘ten sections of skill’) of mixed Chinese and non-Chinese musicians. Among the ten, ensembles from Han China, India, Korea, Samarkand, Kashgar and other areas of Central Asia were represented.21 Instrumentation varied from one ensemble to another. As shown by Yang Yinliu (1981: 254ff.), the Chinese ensembles were of two types, yanyue and qingshang (or

20 As many as 30,000 musicians are mentioned in period references, a number which Kishibe (1960: 22) feels is a great exaggeration. 21 The shibuji ensembles, as documented as the Suishu (“Book of Sui [dynasty]”) and the Tang dictionary Tongdian, are clearly outlined in Cheung 1974: 127ff. and Yang 1981: 252ff. For an English-language summary of this and other Sui-Tang music institutions and their social milieu, see Kishibe 1960/61: 14ff. 64 chapter three qingyue). The qingshang tradition, a continuation of Han practice (cited above), maintained a native fl avor, primarily employing indigenous instruments while omitting all foreign instruments except for pipa and di.22 The following instruments are listed for yanyue: winds: di, sheng, [ pai]xiao (panpipe), bili strings: pipa, wuxian ( pipa); percussion: fangxiang (tuned iron bars), tongbo (cymbals), small drums. Missing from this ensemble are the indigenous instruments chi (fl ute), qin, se and zheng (zithers), and jie (percussion stick). The di, sheng, paixiao, bili, two types of pipa, and tongbo were standard by this period.23 One of several excellent illustrations of this smaller ensemble, refl ecting a slight shift in instrumentation, is reproduced in Fig. 3.4, a line reconstruction of a faded 11th-century painting by the artist Wu Zongyuan (c990–1050). The painting depicts a procession of elegantly- dressed ‘celestial maidens’, seven of whom play popular Tang-style instruments (though without zheng, bili or paiban). While the painting is a rather romanticized depiction of a late Tang (reportedly ‘Kucha’) ensemble, it does show some of the prevailing instruments of the times and the continuing fascination with female ensembles. By the mid-8th century, as yanyue became one of the predominant traditions within the palace, it was reorganized into two divisions: the ‘sitting division’ (zuobuji ) and the ‘standing division’ (libuji ). The ‘sitting division’, with up to twelve musicians and dancers, performed for indoor events, while the larger ‘standing division’ of between sixty and over one hundred musicians and dancers performed outdoors.24 Sizhu-types of music would most likely have been performed by the ‘sitting division’. While it is doubtful whether any of this music is preserved in today’s chamber traditions (Gao 1989: 19), the broad outline of the infl uential Tang suite form daqu (‘grand song’) is well documented. Daqu structure

22 The Sinologist Edward Schafer observes that it was in the courts (rather than in the countryside) that popular (i.e., non-ritual) instruments such as pipa were ﬁ rst used in the performance of entertainment music. Subsequently, as musicians were released from court duties, they returned to their villages with the knowledge and performance ability on these instruments (1963: 51). 23 With a few differences, this ensemble is very close to the instrumentation of the gagaku ensemble of Japan, which was modelled after the Tang Chinese system (q.v. Garﬁ as 1975). For a review of Tang musical instruments, see Picken 1969: 100ff. 24 For further discussion of yanyue organization, see Yang 1981: 214ff., Kishibe 1960/61: 24ff. QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 65

Fig. 3.4 Early 11th-century entertainment ensemble Reconstruction of faded painting by Wu Zongyuan (c990–1050); line clariﬁ cation by C. Fan. Clockwise (from top): paixiao (panpipe), sheng, xiao, di, yaogu (drum), ‘bent-neck’ pipa and ‘ﬁ ve-string’ pipa and its putative survival in present-day Chaozhou and Minnan music will be examined in Chapter Five.

Emergence of the Common-practice Traditions

Post-Tang Instruments Over the next several centuries, there would be further changes in the entertainment ensemble. Beginning with the Song dynasty (960–1279), clear shifts in Chinese taste associated with the re-emergence of Confucian values (neo-Confucianism) and a renewed nationalistic spirit eased some foreign instruments out of fashion. Instruments such as harps and Indian-style drums appear less frequently in period paintings. Among the numerous drawings of instruments depicted in the early 12th-century treatise Yueshu (Chen Yang, c1100), three stringed instruments known to late Tang-early Song musicians are shown in Fig. 3.5. The four-string ‘bent neck’ pipa 66 chapter three

Fig. 3.5 Three stringed instruments, 12th-century representations Line drawings from the treatise Yueshu (Chen Yang, early 12th century) Top left: ‘bent-neck’ pipa; Top right: xiqin; Bottom: ‘12-string’ zheng and twelve-string zheng (more commonly with thirteen strings) were in regular usage during this period. With the introduction of two new stringed instrument types, the chamber ensemble begins to assume a shape that would be recognized today. Of the instruments imported after the Tang dynasty, the one to become most widespread is the huqin, two-stringed bowed ﬁ ddle. This name, huqin (literally ‘barbarian qin’), was assigned by Chinese musicians because the instrument was associated with tribal peoples near the northwestern frontier. Subsequently, it became a generic term, identifying the entire family of Chinese bowed string instruments. The earliest documented huqin type is the 10th-century xiqin (‘Xi [tribal] string’), an instrument with two strings activated by friction with a thin strip of bamboo. (An early 12th-century line drawing of a xiqin appears in Fig. 3.5.) From about the 13th century onward, bows with horsehair strings were employed. These instruments, known as mawei huqin (‘horse-tail huqin’), subsequently became popular in the various regional opera and chamber ensembles (Gao 1981: 10–11, Yang 1981: 730–731). Today huqin types appear everywhere in China, existing in dozens of regional variants and known by names such as erxian, erhu, gaohu, yehu, tihu and tiqin.25 Three types found in South China are shown in Fig. 3.6: the Minnan erxian, with large tubular sound box, bamboo post and frontally-

25 wg: hu-ch’in, erh-hsien, erh-hu, kao-hu, yeh-hu, t’i-hu, t’i-ch’in. QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 67

Fig. 3.6 Huqin fi ddles of South China, three types L to R: Minnan erxian, Chaozhou yehu, Cantonese gaohu; contemporary line drawings inserted tuning pegs; the Chaozhou yehu, with hemispheric sound box of coconut shell, wooden post and dorsal tuning pegs; and the Cantonese gaohu, with snakeskin-covered sound box and carved dragon head on the scroll. These and other huqin types are shown within ensemble contexts in the Chapter One photos, the Chaozhou erxian in Fig. 1.2. The erhu is rarely used in the southern ensembles. Another instrument imported into China after the Tang dynasty is the sanxian, a fretless lute with snakeskin-covered resonator.26 The sanxian (‘three string’) was fi rst mentioned in Chinese sources during the Mongol-dominated Yuan dynasty (1279–1368), though it may have been present in China earlier. Probably an adaptation of other three- stringed lutes played by Central Asian peoples (e.g., setar), the sanxian functions as a low-pitched instrument, lending heterophonic support to high-pitched solo instruments, such as pipa. The ready acceptance of huqin-type fi ddles and sanxian lutes into chamber ensembles is refl ected in both art and written documents. While neither instrument type absorbed specifi c Confucian values, both came to be associated with older instruments (such as zheng and xiao). Among the most interesting of visual sources showing period

26 wg: san-hsien. 68 chapter three instruments in ensemble is the picturesque Kaiyuan Temple in the Minnan city of Quanzhou (southern Fujian province). The Kaiyuan is a Buddhist temple, built between the 7th and 9th centuries, subsequently destroyed and rebuilt in the late 14th century (Zhao 1992: 55). Individually mounted under the eaves of one of the attached halls are twenty-four celestial musicians carved of wood, each holding a replica of a musical instrument (Fig. 3.7). Instruments include pipa, dongxiao and paiban (clappers), most of which reﬂ ect construction details and performance positions similar to those of the Tang dynasty. Also represented are the post-Tang instruments erxian (southern huqin type) and sanxian, known to have been introduced by the time of the Yuan dynasty (14th century, when the temple was rebuilt).27 It is of some signiﬁ cance that the Minnan chamber ensemble of today is still based upon the same core of Kaiyuan instruments: pipa, dongxiao, erxian, sanxian, and paiban clapper. However, the extent to which the instruments in the hands of these celestial musicians may actually represent Tang, Song or even Yuan period instruments may be questioned, since this temple has been cleaned and reconditioned from time to time, and many wooden musicians were repainted during the late 20th century.

Ming Cross-inﬂ uence The Taiwan scholar Lü Bing-chuan (1984) has been especially skeptical about the Minnan claim of Tang-Song musical origins, noting that there have been changes in instrument construction and performance techniques since these periods. But he agrees with Lü Chui-kuan (1982: 10) that the makeup of the ensemble as preserved may well have been in place by the early Ming dynasty (c14th–15th centuries). More recent scholarship has shown that nanguan music has clearly undergone an evolutionary form of development. Some terminology can be traced to Tang sources (e.g., instrument and melody names), but two of the now-standard instruments (erxian and sanxian) emerged after this period. Furthermore, some qupai melodies and lyrics in the related vocal genres are closely related to (possibly derived from)

27 The sheng mouth-organ (which subsequently fell into disuse in South China) and a variety of other less important winds, strings and percussion are pictured as well. The other wind instruments shown include hengdi ﬂ ute and aizai small shawm; percussion instruments include pengling bells and biangu drum; other bowed strings include huqin of the banhu type. A representative photographic sampling of these wooden ﬁ gurines with instruments can be seen in Zhao 1992: 54–61. QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 69

Fig. 3.7 Celestial musicians with pipa and paiban (wooden clappers) Kaiyuan Temple, Quanzhou, 9th to 14th centuries (photo: A. Thrasher) 70 chapter three later Ming opera traditions which were diffused throughout China (Wu 2006). While the earliest written records pertaining to nanguan music date from around 1600 (q.v. Wang 2002: 206), it is apparent that this music was already popular in the region. The dating of Chaozhou and Hakka traditions is also is a matter of controversy. As noted in Chapter One, some Chaozhou scholars trace their music to Tang forms as well. More cautious scholars, such as Chen Anhua (1982: 57–60) and Yuan Jingfang (1987: 324), suggest that Chaozhou music refl ects six- to seven-hundred years of development, and was likely in practice in some form during the Southern Song and Yuan dynasties. Mercedes Dujunco, in her dissertation on Chaozhou music (1994: 34), does not question this dating. Other scholars state that this type of instrumental music during the late Song period was largely based upon qupai-type models (Chen Tianguo 1985: 35) and that variational forms—such as bianzou types—were already being employed (Cheung 1975: 476), but that the repertoire was not in popular usage until the Ming (14th to 17th centuries) (Gao 1981: 225, Shanghai 1981: 28). The Chaozhou scholar Chen Wei, writing about xiyue, pushes the dating even further forward, proposing a strong infl uence of xiansuo music from North China during the Ming dynasty and subsequent popularization during the Qing (1992: 10–11). Hakka scholars are now making similar claims, such as “Hakka (Han) music is confi rmed to be an equivalent of xiansuo music from Henan.” (Lai 2006: 7) The xiansuo tradition will be introduced below. Entertainment ensembles in residence at the Ming and Qing courts (1368–1644, 1644–1911), which are documented in dynastic chronicles and period artwork, refl ect this new instrumentarium. Typically, these ensembles included: winds: xiao or di; plus bili and sheng in North China28 strings: huqin types, pipa, sanxian, zheng percussion: paiban clappers; plus yunluo gongs in North China

28 By late in the Yuan period, the bili was used less frequently as a lead instrument in southern music, possibly replaced by the versatile huqin or dizi ﬂ ute with membrane, both of which had projecting tonal qualities. As with the Minnan ensemble, the sheng, if historically used at all in Chaozhou-Hakka music, was ultimately rejected because of the many complexities in its tuning and maintenance. It has not been used within the living memories of Chaozhou or Hakka musicians. QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 71

Several unusual instruments are also listed in Qing chronicles,29 but their appeal to traditionally-trained musicians was probably marginal and they did not survive into the 20th century. Only one other instrument of enduring importance, the yangqin hammer dulcimer, was added to the southern chamber ensembles. The yangqin (literally ‘foreign qin’), a trapezoidal instrument with seven or more courses of metal strings, is an adaptation of the Persian santur, which was introduced into South China during the late Ming dynasty (Gao 1981: 12). An early 20th-century line drawing of the small Chaozhou–Cantonese style of yangqin, known locally as ‘butterﬂ y qin’ (hudie qin), is reproduced in Fig. 4.8. By mid-20th-century, this dulcimer was constructed in larger and larger sizes, with increased numbers of bridges and strings. It ultimately became widely accepted in Chinese ensemble music, both north and south. There are at least three well-documented Ming and Qing instrumental genres which can be shown to be related to southern sizhu music: shifan luogu, xiansuo and pipa music. Shifan luogu (‘ten kinds of gongs and drums’) is an ensemble tradition of southern Jiangsu province combining ‘silk and bamboo’ instruments (di, xiao, sheng, erhu, banhu, pipa, sanxian, etc.) with the louder gongs, cymbals and drums. According to the research of Yang Yinliu (1981: 993ff.), shifan luogu music was known during the Ming dynasty. It is one of the melodic sources of Jiangnan sizhu and may be distantly related to traditions further south. Xiansuo (‘strings’), a northern genre for stringed instruments, was almost certainly known during the Ming period as well. In the 1814 collection Xiansuo Beikao,30 thirteen instrumental suites are notated in gongche notation with considerable heterophonic detail. The best known of these suites is Shiliu Ban (“Sixteen beat”), a clear Baban variant arranged in sixteen ‘beat variation’ sections of increasing tempo—not unlike the organization of the Chaozhou taoqu suite form (Chapter Five). The Xiansuo Beikao author, Rong Zai, states in his commentary that these pieces were already old at that time. Four stringed instruments are speciﬁ ed: huqin, pipa, sanxian and zheng, to which wind instruments may be added. Not only are these instruments essentially the same as

29 These include the huobusi (the Central Asian qobuz) and yazheng (a bowed zither) (q.v. Han 1979: 5ff.). 30 This repertory was edited by Cao Anhe and Yang Yinliu, and published as Xiansuo Shisan Tao, with transnotations (from gongche to staff notation) and annotations (Cao 1955). Xiansuo is pronounces as ‘syan-suo’; wg: hsien-so. 72 chapter three those used in present-day Chaozhou xiyue and Hakka qingyue, but variants of some xiansuo pieces are still known to contemporary musicians. Therefore, I would concur with Chen Wei’s assessment (1992) that the northern xiansuo tradition (instrumentation, use of suite form, and possibly repertoire) was very likely introduced into South China sometime during the Ming or Qing dynasty. Finally, among infl uences from purely instrumental sources, there is Jiangnan pipa music. The pipa, during the Ming and Qing periods, became a solo instrument of great importance, with a newly-emergent virtuoso repertoire of suite-length pieces such as Shimian Maifu (“Ambush from all sides”) and Yangchun Guqu (“Ancient song of spring”). It is obvious that at least some musical infl uence from the Jiangnan pipa tradition drifted southward into the southern traditions. Several examples of shared melodies and titles can be cited, among them the intriguing Jiangnan tune Sichun (“Thinking of spring”), which appears in the mid- Qing collection Hua Wenbin Pipa Pu (1818).31 The traditional notation is shown in Fig. 3.8 (gongche notation introduced in Chapter Four and App. A). Sichun is seldom performed any longer in the Jiangnan pipa repertoire, but it is a known melody among Hakka musicians. This short melody, which is set in the minor-sounding ‘crying mode’ and follows the standard 68-beat form, may have been the melodic model for (or inspirational source behind) the now famous southern pieces Chushui Lian and Hanya Xishui (these melodies and forms examined in Chapters Four and Five). The introduction of northern opera music during the Ming-Qing period must also be considered an important infl uence on the growth of southern sizhu. The Cantonese author Qiu Hechou (1917) clearly identifi es ‘crossing-the-stage tunes’ (guochang qu), which are played by instrumentalists in Beijing opera and other northern opera types, as melodic models for southern instrumental music. This infl uence was introduced in Chapter One, and will be further examined under the discussion of qupai in Chapter Five. Whereas the Minnan, Chaozhou and Hakka are believed to preserve the oldest ideals and performance practices in instrumental chamber music, the cosmopolitan Jiangnan and Cantonese traditions are new- comers. Jiangnan sizhu of eastern China did not achieve its distinctive regional status until the late Qing dynasty, though it is also believed to

31 Other pieces include Hangong Qiuyue and Yuda Bajiao. QINGSHANG music and the historic legacy 73

Fig. 3.8 Sichun (“Thinking of Spring”) Gongche notation from Hua Wenbin Pipa Pu (1818) have had common roots with shifan luogu, to which its ensemble makeup is closely related, and xiansuo music as well ( Jin 1980: 38). Cantonese music is almost entirely a 20th-century tradition (Huang 2002: 217ff.). The Cantonese ensemble resembles that of Jiangnan sizhu, though with greater reliance upon the high-pitched ﬁ ddle gaohu and dulcimer yangqin. In part because the Jiangnan and Cantonese traditions have emerged in large metropolitan areas (Shanghai and Guangzhou/Hong Kong respectively), they have both been receptive to a good amount of change, the Cantonese tradition being especially open to new ideas.

CHAPTER FOUR

YUELÜ: MUSIC THEORY AND PRACTICE

the music of ancient China was regarded as the image of order of the universe (Nakaseko 1957)

In this chapter, the basic melodic and modal elements of ‘silk-bamboo’ music are examined, beginning with a brief introduction to Chinese melody, and followed by discussion of the relevant historic theories of pitch organization and a more detailed examination of the southern pitch systems and mode.1 With these particular melodic and modal elements, it is not always easy (or even possible) to correlate style with the older ideologies because some of the more creative elements (e.g., use of the ‘crying mode’) have obviously emerged from local practice—from below rather than from above. It might be thought that these stylistic differences represent contradic- tions in Chinese philosophy and in the underlying functionalist thread weaving through this study—and, in a sense, they do. It is apparent from analysis that the Confucian inﬂ uence has been strong in some musical areas, weak (or even absent) in others. But it is essential to realize that contrary cultural trends of this sort are generally resolved in people’s minds—especially in China where the ideal of harmonizing opposites ( yin and yang, wen and wu) has a long history. Analytic matters aside, local musicians believe that the sizhu musical system as a whole reﬂ ects the values of the Confucian scholar (rujia)—a reminder of the importance of perception. More will be said below on these relationships.

Chinese Melody

Traditional Chinese musical accomplishment must be measured almost entirely in terms of melodic sophistication. Where other world cultures

1 The term yuelü, which historically refers to the ancient pitch system used in court rituals, is employed in the title of this chapter as a general reference to Chinese music theory. 76 chapter four have developed complex harmonic and rhythmic systems, Chinese musicians have felt that development of the melodic line was of paramount importance, and that melodic enrichment was best achieved by varying the melodic parameters themselves. Some of these characteristics can be seen in the short melody Xixiang Ci (“Poem of the west chamber”) (Fig. 4.1), which in many ways is typical of southern melodies.2 This piece from the Hakka repertoire most likely emerged from a literary model, perhaps a poem of the same name or possibly from the Yuan dynasty drama “The Tale of the West Chamber” (Xixiang Ji ). Huang Jinpei (1996) suggests that the term xixiang (‘west chamber’) alludes to a reading room or library, thereby associating the music with one of the most cherished of Confucian ideals—education. It will be remembered from the above chapters that the Hakka have been among the staunchest defenders of the Confucian institution. As with most repertoire passed on by way of oral transmission, Xixiang Ci is of unknown authorship. It is said to be ‘traditional’.

Melodic Line An essential aspect of good Chinese melody, really the ideal, is the presence of a winding melodic line, in which ascending motivic movement is mixed with descending movement, and dramatic contrasts in style are avoided. In his book, Minzu Qiyue Gailun (1981: 223ff.), the scholar Gao Houyong insightfully outlines several valued characteristics of traditional melody, notably the presence of small intervals (rather than of large intervallic leaps), twisting motivic movement (rather than straight scalewise movement), and a sense of emotive balance from phrase to phrase (rather than of sudden stylistic contrasts). As examples of small intervals and twisting movement, Gao cites the opening motifs of Baban (Fig. 4.2a), together with several other melodies. Signiﬁ cantly, in his description of ideal melodic movement, he uses the term quzhe, which in today’s vocabulary means ‘twisting and turning’. Gao could have further explained the deeper cultural signiﬁ cance in the character qu itself, which now is translated as ‘melody’ or ‘song’, but historically could be read as ‘twisted’, ‘crooked’ or ‘bent’.3 Associations

2 Xixiang Ci (pronounced as ‘syi-syang tseh’), and most examples transcribed and analyzed in this book, can be heard on the CD “Sizhu: Chamber Music of South China”, PAN Records, 1994. The transcription in Fig. 4.1, a solo recording by the Hakka zheng master Rao Ningxin, is based upon my ﬁ eld tapes of 1986. The version on the CD is performed heterophonically by the Guangzhou-based four-piece Hakka ensemble pictured in Chapter One. 3 The Han dynasty dictionary Shuowen Jiezi shows the character qu as a square-sided YUELÜ: music theory and practice 77

Fig. 4.1 Xixiang Ci (“Poem of the west chamber”) of this sort are meaningful to educated musicians and scholars in a culture where meanings derive in large part from their ‘relationship’ with other observable phenomena (in this case, the written language). Performing musicians today are no longer aware of this linguistic relationship, but the ideal of a winding melodic line has apparently penetrated performance style because it is notable in most melodies and also in the practice of ornamentation. In Xixiang Ci (4.1b), motivic angularity can be seen throughout, but it is especially pronounced at the beginning of the third line (phrase c). Angularity is also characteristic of the many Baban variants and other southern melodies (Fig. 4.2b and 4.2c). Generally speaking, scale-like movement (diatonic or pentatonic) is rarely found in traditional Chinese melodies.

box, open at the top. From this pictograph, the meaning ‘bent’ later emerged (as in ‘bent-neck pipa’), and subsequently ‘song’, together with the above ideas about twisting melodies. Qu is pronounced as ‘chü’; wg: ch’ü. 78 chapter four

a) Chaozhou Da Baban, opening of sanban section

etc. b) Chaozhou Qianjia Deng, opening motifs

etc. c) Cantonese Pinghu Qiuyue, opening motifs

etc. Fig. 4.2 Melodic Shape, opening motifs from three southern pieces

Motivic Irregularity Melodic analysis shows that, in traditional Chinese melody, phrase construction tends to be non-cyclical, with phrase subdivisions asymmetrical.4 In Xixiang Ci, three twelve-beat phrases can be identifi ed, marked a, b and c (Fig. 4.1b). Each phrase contains internal sub-divisions of varying lengths. Phrase a is sub-divided into two unequal halves, the opening motif (a) of fi ve beats, followed by a slightly more expansive variation (a') of six beats.5 Phrase b is also irregular but with different subdivisions (which can be seen in the transcription). Phrase c begins with a contrasting motif, followed by a variation of the second half of phrase a (i.e., a'), this time eight beats in length. Occasionally it is diffi cult to demarcate phrase subdivisions because of motivic elisions, but the following organization could be argued (shown in motivic lengths in beats): a: (1) 5 + 6; b: 3 + 9; c: 4 + 8. A similar type of linear organization is present in the numerous Baban variants, where phrases—on the surface at least—are eight beats in length, but internal motivic organization in the opening phrases is mixed among beat patterns of 3 + 2 + 3 and 4 + 4, and later motivic organization displays other irregularities. A good example can be seen

4 Irregular Chinese phrase construction may be contrasted with that of India, Java or West Africa, where melodies are coordinated with repeating metrical cycles of fi xed length. 5 In this opening phrase, a one-beat rest at the beginning is implied in some early notations, though not observed in performance. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 79 in the Chaozhou suite-form Hanya Xishui (Chapter Five), which begins with balanced phrases, followed at beat 17 by highly irregular motivic subdivisions of mixed lengths (q.v. App. B2). This type of expansive and irregular phrase subdivision is a unique characteristic of Chinese melody, and it is widespread.6 What possible reasons could there be for motivic and phrase irregularity? According to the ancient Yueji and others texts, Confucian music theory would seem to encourage regularity rather than irregularity; and in the historic Confucian ritual music, balanced phrase organization has been standard for many centuries. So, a specifi c Confucian infl u- ence seems absent here. There appears to be no Chinese theory of irregularity, except for statements in the Daoist text Zhuangzi. It will be remembered from Chapter Two that ‘spontaneity’ (ziran) is an ancient value, in painting and calligraphy manifest in the ‘natural’ rhythm of the line. References to music in this text, however, are more oblique, though ‘spontaneity’ is indeed cited in regard to a musical performance, together with the observation that this music “was not rooted in a strict form”—implying a type of ‘natural’ organization. Indeed, traditionally-educated Chaozhou musicians are aware of the importance of ‘spontaneity’ in their performances (Chen 2006), though it seems improbable that this concept could explain the kind of irregular phrase structures found in ensemble music. For interpretative and affective elements, on the other hand, ziran is an essential concept and it will receive further discussion in Chapter Six. Some Chinese scholars have suggested that irregular phrases in the qupai repertoire of instrumental music derive from the Song period form of poetry known as ci.7 Ci poems, which were sung, had lines of irregular length—such as consecutive lines of four words, three words, fi ve words, etc., performed with one word for each metric unit. Sub- sequently, when this form of sung poetry passed out of fashion during the Yuan and Ming dynasties, the texts were forgotten but the melodies (with their irregular phrase lengths) were retained and performed by instrumentalists (Gao 1981: 298; 1989: 4ff.). The ci theory has come

6 See also Liuqing Niang (Fig. 5.1) for other asymmetries and ambiguous elisions. 7 Ci is pronounced as ‘tseh’; wg: ts’u. 80 chapter four to be accepted in some circles, but questions remain as to whether this could have been the primary source for motivic irregularity.8 In my own view, irregularity in common-practice phrase organization is probably due to the absence in China of two characteristics common in western instrumental music: a related social dance tradition and an underlying harmonic structure. China historically has had various dance types, notably dance associated with state rituals (in which regularity of musical phrase was the norm), individualized stage dance associated with traditional opera, and other individualized types such as ‘ﬂ ower drum’ dance-songs, but no social dance tradition—that is, one in which males and females dance together, requiring predictable melodic lengths. Similarly, Chinese melody is not supported by a harmonic structure. Harmony has a regularizing effect on melody and, when absent, melody is not restricted by harmonic rhythm.9 So, I believe that one of the most important reasons for motivic irregularity in the southern traditions is that regularity itself has been considered both unnecessary and too conﬁ ning. To put words in the mouth of Zhuang Zi: great music needs to breathe.

Modal Organization Pitch organization in Xixiang Ci, as in most of the instrumental repertoire, is structurally pentatonic. Unlike pentatonic scales in other Asian cultures (such as Japan and Bali, where half-steps are often found amongst the intervals), Chinese instrumental music is usually organized in major seconds (whole steps) and minor thirds: do- re-mi-sol-la-(do). However, as seen in Xixiang Ci (4.1), the pentatonic system in practice is not always based upon do but often upon sol: sol-la-do-re-mi-(sol). The equivalency of do with G in this instance has importance only in that it identiﬁ es the root of the pentatonic structure; the actual modal orientation is controlled by sol and re. This sol-re structure is very common in South China, and especially in Cantonese music. (Nevertheless, some well-known pieces with a do-sol orientation will be cited below and in Chapter Five.) Xixiang Ci begins on sol (d'') and for the most part avoids do throughout phrase a (except in passing), the phrase cadencing on sol (d') (meas.

8 Some scholars also question whether an irregular line of poetry would have necessarily been set to an irregular phrase in music. 9 A good example of this relationship can be found in English folksong. Research has shown that, prior to being harmonized during the 20th century, English folksongs were often sung in mixed meters and irregular phrase lengths. With harmonization these characteristics became either more regularized or they disappeared altogether. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 81

6 as barred). Phrase b does contain a relatively weak cadence on do (g') but, again, the phrase ultimately cadences on sol (meas. 12). Phrase c, in contrast, begins with a la emphasis (e''), though ultimately ending on re (a') (meas. 18). In the Chinese modal system, two pitches a fi fth apart tend to dominate melodic structures—in this case, sol and re. In terms of function, this third-phrase re cadence (meas. 18) serves as a pivotal pitch in returning to the second half of phrase a (a', meas. 4) with its overall sol orientation. The piece then ends with a restatement of phrase b and its fi nal cadence on sol. This type of shifting pitch emphasis, both internal and at cadence points, is characteristic of southern melody as a whole. The fi ve pitches of each mode are primarily of structural importance in that they tend to be melodically stressed and dominate cadential points. In fact, the pitch positions of fa+ and ti– are also commonly employed for variational purposes, though within several different contexts. As passing and neighboring tones embellishing pentatonic pitches, these are regularly heard in traditional music and considered normal aspects of performance practice.10 A more idiomatic Chinese linear device involves use of ‘borrowed notes’ ( jiezi ). The term ‘borrowed notes’, which is distantly related to the historic concept of ‘altered tones’ (bianyin, introduced below within the context of the wusheng system), identifi es the temporary substitution of a pitch outside the pentatonic system for a pentatonic pitch.11 The substitution of ti– for do is seen in the appearance of f sharp in phrase c of Xixiang Ci (Fig. 4.1), and the one-time appearance of b in phrase c of Shuangxing Hen (Fig. 4.12). These particular ‘borrowed notes’ are fi xed in tradition (i.e., most performers play them as a matter of practice), but they can also be improvised in other locations.12 The ti– for do substitution, which is commonly heard in the music of South China, appears in specifi c patterned contexts (see also the second measure of Pinghu Qiuyue, Fig. 4.2c).13 These contexts will be examined later in this chapter.

10 Examples of passing tones in pentatonic structures can be seen in several Chapter Five transcriptions. 11 Jiezi is a useful term in identifying this substitution, though used more commonly in North China than in the South. I use it here because the effect itself is widespread in the southern traditions, yet musicians do not agree upon an accepted term. Jiezi is pronounced as ‘jie-dz’. 12 Examples of improvised ‘borrowed notes’ can be heard in the recording of Xixiang Ci on the CD “Sizhu” (Pan Records, 1994). 13 It must be noted that the pitch position of ti– in traditional music does not func- 82 chapter four

Embellishments How would Xixiang Ci be realized? A cultural expectation among Chinese musicians requires that melodies be enriched by means of embellishment—though ‘embellishment’ seems almost too superfi cial a term to use in description of a performance practice which is considered essential. Two basic embellishing techniques are employed very widely in Chinese music: those of ‘adding fl owers’ ( jiahua) and of creating ‘shaken sounds’ ( yaosheng). ‘Adding fl owers’ refers to the addition of melodic fi ller to fl esh out the basic pitches of a skeletal melody. For example, Xixiang Ci is shown in two forms: a) the melodic skeleton, a transnotation from a collection in cipher notation (Luo 1982), and b) a detailed transcription from a solo zheng performance by Rao Ningxin (1986). The melodic skeleton begins as sol-mi-sol-do (in eighth notes) and, while some instrumentalists do play this pattern, the solo zheng performance shows that the sol-do fragment is played with ‘fl owers’—hence, sol-la-re-do (in sixteenth notes). Certain ‘fl owers’, like some ‘borrowed notes’, have become relatively fi xed in tradition, though established musicians do not necessarily feel compelled to perform these, and they may take liberties by adding ‘fl owers’ in other locations. This practice is old in Chinese music, though analytically documented only since the early 20th century.14 The practice of animating certain pitches for melodic enrichment is also widespread in Chinese music, especially in the singing styles associated with traditional opera, but also in instrumental music. The term yaosheng (literally ‘shaken sound’) is used in some circles to identify such tonal fl uctuations.15 The various ‘skaken’ effects include several vibrato types, portamento types (huayin) and sudden pulsations ( yaozhi ). Again using Xixiang Ci as an example, this piece may be performed on the zheng as a solo or with other instruments as chamber music. The essential left-hand zheng ornaments include a) incremental string push (and release) for ascending and descending portamenti (shown with curving arrows in the transcription), b) gentle vibrato on notes of longer duration (not shown) and c) sudden tremolo-like pulsations on specifi c tion as a ‘leading tone’, its melodic movement usually being either downward to la or upward to re, but not upward to do. 14 Performance realizations of Qiu Hechou (1917) and others are examined in Chapter Six. 15 Yaosheng may be translated in different ways. Du Yaxiong (1999b: 41ff.) gives it as ‘moving tones’. Du makes a case for such tonal effects as deriving from similar tonal movement in Chinese language. See also Du 2002: 113. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 83 pitches (especially fa+ and ti–).16 The most distinctive right-hand orna- ment is d) the descending glissando (liyin) across several or more strings, starting above and ending on the main melody tone (shown with jagged descending lines). Additionally, e) on notes of longer duration, pitches are often reiterated in eighth- or sixteenth-note patterns. When fl utes and stringed instruments are played with zheng, still other tonal movement may be performed (together with ‘fl owers’) in accordance with the idiom of each instrument. The combination of contrasting idiomatic yaosheng movement and the improvisational addition of ‘fl owers’ forms an essential basis for the heterophonic texture in southern music (this practice examined further in Chapter Six).

Pitch Systems and Notation

Why would it be necessary in an examination of the southern common- practice music to review the two-thousand-year-old tonal theories of the imperial Confucian court? First, some elements of court theory are still relevant to the music in current practice, such as the predominance of pentatonic structures, association of speciﬁ c modes with regions of China, and association of performance keys with dynastic models. But of equal importance, Chinese scholars still use some of the old theories in attempt to rationalize local practice.

The Ancient Pitch System Kazu Nakaseko correctly points out that in ancient Chinese music theory, “there was one accepted theory which was restated constantly . . . [that is] the generation of the twelve fundamental sounds by means of successions of perfect fi fths, the fi rst fi ve sounds thus obtained being the basic tones of the scale.” (1957: 148) Based upon a pre-determined root pitch (huangzhong), the initial fi ve pitches (wusheng) were established and, by continuing around the circle of fi fths, the twelve chromatic pitches (lülü) were set. According to this theory, the initial fi ve overblown fi fths (e.g., F—C—G—D—A) became the basis for the pentatonic modal system. The twelve chromatic pitches were considered key centers rather than scales or modes.17

16 The signs ‘+’ and ‘–’ indicate pitch deviation from equal temperament, examined later in this chapter. 17 This process began with calculation of the ‘yellow bell’ (huangzhong; wg: huang- chung), the root pitch of the imperial dynasties—a pitch which changed from one period to another. According to legend and later records, the ‘yellow bell’ pitch was 84 chapter four

The old modal system developed by Chinese court theorists is fi rst documented in the 7th-century b.c. Guanzi (“Writings of Guan Zi”, wg: Kuan Tzu), subsequently restated in the 3rd-century b.c. dictionary Erya, and most later music treatises. At its basis, an anhemitonic pentatonic structure is clearly identifi ed. While pentatonic structures are found in many parts of the world, in China they have acquired enormous cultural importance because of their assigned potential for musically reinforcing social norms (as in the ‘fi ve relationships’ and the ‘fi ve virtues’; qv. Chapter Two) and in refl ecting regional expressive ideals. This system historically is called wusheng (‘fi ve sounds’) or wuyin (‘fi ve tones’).18 Heptatonic scales based upon whole- and half-step intervals are also documented in the later literature, but their associated melodies have essentially disappeared—at least in South China.19 Therefore, the following discussion will focus upon the pentatonic system, which has continuing relevance.

determined by blowing across a bamboo tube of known length and diameter, closed at the bottom. The twelve chromatic pitches were then obtained by way of overblowing fi fths. The vibrating air column was divided into three parts with one subtracted, thus shortening the air column to two-thirds of the original length and sounding a pitch one fi fth higher (i.e., do to sol). The next pitch was determined by dividing this shorter air column into three parts, but this time adding one to the length, thus lengthening the column and sounding a pitch a fourth lower (i.e., sol to low re). Following this circle-of-fi fths system of pitch generation (historically known as sanfen sunyi ), the fi ve basic pentatonic pitches are generated (do-sol-re-la-mi). With further divisions, the two bian (‘altered’) pitches (ti and fa sharp ) may also be generated, and ultimately the full twelve-note chromatic system (lülü). Chinese theorists realized early, however, that the circle of pure fi fths taken twelve times produced an octave interval noticeably sharper than the octave obtained in a two-to-one relationship. Since the purpose of this theory was to bring the pitch system into correspondence with the cyclic elements of the calendar, numerous experiments were undertaken to shrink the size of the fi fth and thus correct the discrepancy. Some formulations were highly sophisticated, resulting in forms of equal temperament. For further information on ancient Chinese music theory, see Nakaseko 1957: 147–180 and Chen 2002: 115–126. 18 Today, it is sometimes referred to as the gongshang (literally, ‘do-re’) system, or the jieming (‘step-name’) system. 19 Three seven-note scales are identifi ed in the literature, the oldest being the yayue scale—a diatonic scale with a raised 4th degree, equivalent to the western lydian mode. The other two scales, which are known by different names, are equivalent to the western ionian (major) and mixolydian modes. It is unclear the extent to which these heptatonic scales were actually used. They were likely employed in court music of various types and restricted to regions of North China. As Du Yaxiong points out, however, these scales may have been based upon pentatonic constructions, in which fi ve pitches were primary and two merely passing, neighboring, or otherwise secondary (1999b: 46ff.). YUELÜ: music theory and practice 85

* Note: Jue, an anomalous structure without a pentatonic ﬁ fth. Fig. 4.3 The Wusheng System: Basic Scale and Modes

During the imperial period, the wusheng system was employed in two ways: as a notation system for ritual music of the court, and as a conceptual tool for theorizing the ancient tonal system and its modes. While wusheng notation ceased to be used by the early 20th century, scholars continue to employ the basic system as a theoretical model for analysis of mode. In the historic wusheng system, fi ve relative pitch positions are identifi ed, utilizing a single Chinese character for each. This system is shown in Fig. 4.3a, together with western solfège equivalents: gong (do) – shang (re) – jue (mi) – zhi (sol) – yu (la). These fi ve pitch positions are considered to be basic to the Chinese tonal system and, as a consequence, are 86 chapter four called ‘proper sounds’ (zhengsheng). The ascending intervallic relationships from gong (the root pitch) are major 2nd, major 2nd, minor 3rd, major 2nd, and minor 3rd. The non-pentatonic pitches between the two minor 3rds (bianyin) are identifi ed as variants of the pitches above: the fa sharp pitch position called bianzhi (‘altered zhi’) and the ti pitch position called biangong (‘altered gong’).20 These two pitch positions (bianzhi and biangong), each standing a theoretical half-step below zhi (sol) and gong (do) respectively, are structurally insignifi cant. The bianyin system, of course, derives from court theory. In common-practice music, ‘borrowed notes’ ( jiezi, discussed above) function in a similar manner in that they may be used as substitutes for the pentatonic pitches above. But ‘borrowed notes’ in the local instrumental traditions are typically spaced at a wider interval than a half-step from the notes above. The wusheng modes, since the Han dynasty or earlier, functioned as a transposing system (like moveable-do solfège), with gong (do) established at any of the twelve fi xed chromatic pitches. This inter-related system, if implemented at all, was restricted to court ritual music and requires no further examination here.21 In understanding these modal forms themselves, it is essential to differentiate between the concepts of ‘root’ and ‘fi nalis’. The term ‘root’ is used here to designate the basic pitch position of do, to which all other pentatonic pitches are related in a fi xed structure (described above); the term ‘fi nalis’ is used in reference to the most signifi cant pitch position in a given piece of music, one usually coinciding with the fi nal cadence (and with a number of internal cadences as well). The historic modal theory can be graphically represented in two ways, both relevant for different reasons. First, each structure is shown over an unchanging root, with the fi nalis of each mode in a different position (Fig. 4.3b). This alignment is similar to the shifting points of pitch emphasis found within individual melodies, as seen in Xixiang Ci where the initial phrases cadence on re and sol, and subsequent phrases cadence on do and la. But the overall root structure remains the same. In the second alignment (Fig. 4.3c), each structure is shown over a changeable root position, the fi nalis of each mode synchronized with the same pitch—that of the performance key. This is the practice

20 This system often appears in Wade-Giles spellings, the basic pitches as kung, shang, chüeh, chih and yü, the ‘altered’ pitches as pien-chih and pien-kung. 21 For an introduction to this relationship, see Chen 2002: 120–121. For a more metaphysical discussion, see Cook 1995b: 87ff. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 87 of southern instrumentalists when they tune their strings to c – g, and start pieces in either the do or sol mode at the same place (such as on c). More will be said about the common-practice modes later in this chapter. Five basic modal forms emerged from the wusheng system, organizational types which have acquired both historical importance and regional relevance. Indeed, ancient texts such as the Huainan Zi assign regional signifi cance to the fi ve modes, each corresponding with one of the fi ve directions—north, south, east, west, and center.22 Thus, the zhi (sol) mode, organized sol-la-do-re-mi, framed by sol (the fi nalis) and re, is associated with the South. The yu (la) mode, organized la-do- re-mi-sol, framed by la and mi, is the mode of the North. Similarly, jue (mi) is said to be the mode of the East, shang (re) mode associated with the West, and gong (do) mode associated with the Center. It is tempting to think that associations of this sort are based upon a numerological theory of empty signifi ers. But as Du Yaxiong (1999: 52) has shown, such historic associations may well have been established from observation, for there is evidence that at least four of these forms are predominant in the present-day folksong melodies of their respective regions. My own analysis of instrumental music reveals similar trends. For example, zhi (sol) mode melodies indeed dominate the Cantonese instrumental repertoire of South China, while yu (la) mode melodies are most prevalent in Mongolian-infl uenced northern traditions (and in xipi melodies of Beijing opera as well). These two modal forms in particular—sol-re and la-mi—have a long legacy of associations with the South and North respectively.23 The shang (re) mode is one of several important modes heard in the folksongs of northwest China, but rarely elsewhere. The jue (mi) mode, however, which does not possess a pentatonic fi fth above its fi nalis, is seldom found in Chinese melodies from any region—though, if found, would probably be explained as a la-mi variant since mi occupies a structurally important pitch position in this mode. Gong (do) mode

22 For more on these associations, see Chen Yingshi’s review of the ancient system of correspondences (2002: 116). 23 One of many sources demonstrating these regional associations is the late 19th- century Chaozhou manuscript collection entitled “Waijiang Xiantao” (a Chaozhou reference to Hakka music). Two string tunings and modes are outlined: sol-re, labelled the ‘southern way’ (nanlu), and la–mi, the ‘northern way’ (beilu). sol mode melodies are also predominant in Jiangnan sizhu, a region which one thousand years ago was considered to be ‘the South’ by the ofﬁ cials in the more northern centers of power. 88 chapter four melodies—the mode of the ‘center’—are found throughout China. Gong is absolutely standard in the classic Chaozhou and Hakka 68-beat repertoire, a repertoire known to be closely related to (and probably derived from) the Henan-Shandong instrumental repertoire of the Central Plain.24

Gongche System and Notation Gongche notation (wg: kong-ch’e) was the prevailing system employed in notating common-practice music between about the 16th and early–20th centuries. Beginning in the 1920s, Chinese musicians adopted the French cipher system—known in China as ‘simple notation’ ( jianpu)—and this system is now prevalent in most traditions (q.v. App. B). It is useful to understand the basics of traditional gongche notation because some essential elements of common-practice theory—notably pitch signs, metric structures and modal terminology—are embodied in this system. Other notation systems, such as the highly specialized historic Chaozhou ‘2–4 notation’ (ersipu), will not be examined here.25 While the ancient wusheng system was employed in the performance and notation of Confucian and other ritual music, gongche (literally ‘mi-re’) has been used primarily in the performance and notation of music popular in the regional traditions. Emerging from an earlier Song dynasty system of ‘popular notation’ (suzi pu), the gongche system became prominent during the Ming dynasty (1368–1644) in the notation of Kunqu classical opera. Subsequently employed to notate instrumental music, it developed in several regional variants, notably Jiangnan gongche (Shanghai region), Minnan gongche (southern Fujian province), Chaozhou-Hakka gongche and Cantonese gongche (Guangdong province). Details of pitch and rhythmic notation vary somewhat from one region to another. In all regions, this system has functioned primarily as a

24 Because of historic inter-cultural relationships throughout China, and probably for other reasons as well, the association between region and mode is of course more complex than this, for sol-mode melodies have been performed in Beijing opera for over 200 years, and la-mode melodies performed in Minnan nanguan music even longer. But such observations do not necessarily contradict the region-mode theory because sol-mode melodies are known to have been introduced from areas to the south of Beijing, and la-mode melodies were likely brought south from North China during the Minnan migrations. In the composed and arranged concert-hall music of the late 20th century, which is no longer region specifi c, melodies in the sol and la modes are most numerous, followed by those in the do mode. re- and mi-mode melodies are rare. 25 For an overview of ‘2–4 notation’, see Dujunco 1994: 72ff. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 89 reciting tool and memory aid, though it is still read as a notation in the performance of Kunqu and Cantonese opera. The Jiangnan and Cantonese gongche variants consist of nine basic diatonic pitch signs, encompassing one octave plus a major second. Each pitch position is represented by a Chinese character. The Jiangnan system, shown in Fig. 4.4 together with Western solfège equivalents, is organized as follows: he (sol), si (la), yi (ti), shang (do), che (re), gong (mi), fan (fa), liu (high sol), and wu (high la).26 The Cantonese system (also shown) is similar. Owing to the prevalence of the zhi (sol) mode in southern regions, the fundamental pitch position is he (sol).27 Two examples of gongche notation are shown below, together with transnotations into the staff system. The fi rst is of an early 20th-century Jiangnan version of the qupai, Liuqing Niang (“Lady Liu Qing”, Fig. 4.5).28 While the music of the Jiangnan region is not being examined here, this short example serves as a good model for understanding one prevalent form of the gongche system—and it can be contrasted with the very popular Chaozhou version shown in the next chapter (Fig. 5.1). The second gongche example is a late Qing dynasty Chaozhou Baban variant entitled Xiao Baban (“Small eight beat”, Fig. 4.6), the fast-tempo fi nal section of a three-part suite form. Liuqing Niang and Baban are among the most signifi cant qupai melodies in the southern repertoires. In the Jiangnan gongche system ( Fig. 4.4 and 4.5), high-range pitches (above liu [ high sol] and wu [ high la]) are indicated by the addition of a slanted ‘T’ immediately to the left of each pitch sign, while lower range pitches (below he [low sol]) are shown with a comma-like mark at the lower right of each pitch sign (not present in this example). The Cantonese system (one example reproduced in App. A4) for the most

26 Note that the pronunciations of the gongche pitch signs for gong (mi) and shang (do) are the same as gong (do) and shang (re) in the wusheng system, but they are written with different characters (as seen in Figures 4.3 and 4.4). The signiﬁ cance of nine pitch signs, in which the upper octave equivalents of the lowest two pitches are given different and unrelated signs, is not entirely clear. Although nine was a basic unit of measurement and an auspicious number during the late Zhou period, a more reasonable explanation can be found in the playing range of the bili reed-pipe, which has a range of exactly a ninth (in part because it cannot be overblown into the second octave). The bili—today known by the name guanzi—was one of the dominant instruments in the entertainment ensembles from the Song period onward, when the prototype of gongche notation was developed. The guanzi, with the same range, is still performed throughout North China, and occasionally in Cantonese music as well. 27 In areas of North China, however, the lowest pitch position (he) is assigned to do rather than sol (q.v. Du 2002:100ff.). 28 Liuqing Niang is pronounced as ‘liu-ching niang’. 90 chapter four

He Si Yi Shang Che Gong Fan Liu Wu a) b) [mi fa] sol la ti do re mi fa sol la ti [do re] lower octave basic range higher octave Fig. 4.4 The Gongche System a) Jiangnan variant b) Cantonese variant part is the same, though the character for la is written differently, and low and high octave pitches indicated with region-speciﬁ c signs (Fig. 4.4b). In many notations, however, the proper octave must be inferred from the melodic context of surrounding pitches. The Chao- zhou notation (Fig. 4.6), for example, gives no indication of its higher register near the middle of the structure; this would be learned through experience. Hakka notations tend to be similarly ambiguous about high-range pitches. A Hakka Baban variant entitled Xidiao (alternatively known as Xunfeng Qu) is reproduced in App. A1.

Meter: the Banshi System As seen in the gongche notations (4.5 and 4.6), meter is delineated by a system of marks appearing to the right of the pitch column signs. In standard Jiangnan gongche notation, two basic beat types are indicated. The fi rst beat of a metric cycle, marked ‘x’, is called ban (‘beat’). It is considered to be the strong beat. Subsequent weak beats are marked ‘o’ and called yan (‘eye’). Scholars refer to this metric system as banshi (‘ban form’), though locally it is more commonly known as the ban-yan system, in reference to these alternating beat types. Some regional differences can be found in the southern notations, however, as seen in the use of the diagonal mark ‘\’ for weak beats in the Cantonese Baban variant (App. A4), and ‘o’ for strong beats in the Chaozhou and Hakka notations (Figure 4.6 and Appendices A1, A2 and A3) It is apparent that the banshi system emerged from the old practice of marking strong beats with single strokes on the wooden clapper paiban. As a result, the strong beat of each cycle—whether marked ‘x’ or ‘o’—is also called ban, as an abbreviation. As shown by Du Yaxiong (1999b: 54) and Chen Yingshi (2002: 123), the strong beat was historically called pai, its function being to delineate the fi rst beat of a musical YUELÜ: music theory and practice 91 phrase. The term pai was gradually abandoned after the 13th century in favor of ban, though ban at this time was also used in reference to a musical phrase rather than a metric cycle (Yang 1958: 49). In the old southern dialects, pai is pronounced as ‘bak’ or ‘pak’, clearly onomatopoeic for the sound of the clapper. When sounded in Chaozhou and Cantonese practice, strong beats are marked on a woodblock locally known as gok, refl ecting a similar onomatopoeic effect. In traditional Chinese music in general—northern or southern, instrumental or vocal—the banshi metric system is functionally tied to tempo. Pieces with repeating ban strokes (on the clapper) are performed at rapid tempo (kuaiban). Pieces requiring yan-beat subdivisions are performed at moderate or slow tempos (zhongban, manban).29 Audible time marking serves to control tempo change and it actually holds these small chamber ensembles together. The metrical patterns in traditional music are of four basic types: 1) ban beats only; 2) ban and yan beats in alternation; 3) one ban beat followed by three yan beats; and 4) one ban beat followed by seven yan beats (Fig. 4.7). In Chaozhou and Hakka notations, these secondary beats are not always shown. In the Minnan tradition, a fi fth metric form is employed as well—the un-metered, prelude-like sanban (‘random beat’) in which beats are not uniformly timed. The sanban form is commonly found in introductory sections of nanguan suites (and throughout North China as well), but not in the other ensemble repertoires. When employed, sanban sections are always followed by metered sections (as further explained in Chapter Five). The meter of the Chaozhou variant, Xiao Baban (Fig. 4.6), is a straightforward repetition of ban beats—the equivalent of 1/4 time. The Jiangnan Liuqing Niang (Fig. 4.5) is an alternation of ban (x) and yan (o) beats—the equivalent of 2/4 time. The Cantonese Baban variant reproduced in Appendix A4 follows a ban – yan – yan – yan pattern, the equivalent of 4/4 time. There are several reasons these variants differ in metric structure, the principal one being the position of the variant within the larger suite form (where suite forms exist), the slow x o o o patterns appearing at the beginning, followed by x o and ultimately x x (as explained in Chapter Five). While melodic rhythms are not

29 Percussionists mark subdivisions with one or more strokes on a small drum or woodblock. In Jiangnan practice, the thin drum diangu is used; in Cantonese and Chaozhou practice, a small nanbangzi-type of woodblock, known as dik in Cantonese music, serves this purpose. 92 chapter four

Fig. 4.5 Liuqing Niang (“Lady Liu Qing”) in gongche notation Jiangnan version, here entitled Liuchun Yang (source: Zhang Hejing, 1920); with transnotation into the southern key of F = do Note: gongche notation moves from top to bottom, right to left. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 93

Fig. 4.6 Xiao Baban (“Small eight beat”) in gongche notation Chaozhou sanban variant from late Qing dynasty ms. (source: Hong Peichen, nd.); Primary beats in this system identiﬁ ed with circles; transnotation in F. Note: gongche notation moves from top to bottom, right to left 94 chapter four

Ban-yan patterns Realization Tempo Meter x x x x etc. ban beats only in repetition fast 1/4 (kuaiban, liushui ban) x o x o etc. alternation of ban and moderate 2/4 yan beats (zhongban) x o o o etc. ban followed by three yan moderate 4/4 (zhongban) x o o o o o o o etc. ban followed by seven yan slow 8/4 (manban)

Note: In some Chaozhou systems, primary beats are identifi ed with ‘o’ and subdivisions are not necessarily shown. The Cantonese system resembles the Jiangnan system, though subdivisions may be marked with a slash ‘\’. Fig. 4.7 The Banshi System precisely notated, beat subdivisions are always in some form of duple rhythm (such as two eighth notes; one eighth followed by two sixteenth notes, etc.). For more specifi c information on the notation of dotted rhythms, see Appendix A. As noted above, metric control is basic to the stability of sizhu melodic structures. ‘Ban forms’ in Chaozhou, Hakka and Jiangnan melodies are strictly followed from beginning to end, changing to other forms (e.g., from x o o o to x o x o) only when melodic ‘variations’ are sequentially added in the formation of ‘suites’ (taoqu).30 Thus, metric structure is one of the fundamental organizational principles of this ensemble music. Against this element of metric stability, melodies and rhythms are treated with great fl exibility, as if regularity and irregularity were consciously being harmonized.

Key The concept of basic performance pitch or key in traditional Chinese music is of particular historic interest, for there is evidence to suggest that the fundamental pitch centers of the regional traditions may have been based upon the ‘yellow bell’ (huangzhong) pitch centers of imperial China. As shown by Yang Yinliu and others, ‘yellow bell’ pitches—which served as cosmological foundations for imperial

30 The sequential performance of ‘ban form’ variations will be introduced in the next chapter, at which point the nuances of changing from one form to another will be discussed. Cantonese music is not organized in suite forms. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 95 rule—were calculated and recalculated from one dynasty to another. Some variation also occurred within dynasties and among Chinese regions, reﬂ ecting differing measurement systems (Zhongguo 1984: 177). During the Tang and Song periods (618–1279), the pitch was variously established at or near F, F sharp and sometimes G; during the Ming and Qing periods (1368–1911), D and D sharp were common.31 Du Yaxiong (2002: 100ff.) has presented a strong argument suggesting that performance key is a consistent historical feature of the regional traditions because the established pitch standards of the imperial courts became models for Buddhist and other local ensembles. It is, therefore, entirely possible that since the Chaozhou and Hakka repertoires are usually pitched in the key of F, these traditions may be rooted in pre- 13th century practice. According to Chen Tianguo (2004), the most active scholar of Chaozhou music today, there is now open acknowledg- ment of this probable relationship with the Song dynasty (960–1279) court system. Of course, preservation of historic key centers must not be taken as evidence of the maintenance of repertoire from the same period (q.v. Chapters One and Three). Jiangnan music, on the other hand, is generally recognized as a more recent tradition. It is almost always performed in D, suggesting a tradition not older than several centuries—which in fact is known to be the case. What this approach to dating may suggest about the esentially 20th-century Cantonese music tradition in C and the possibility of Western inﬂ uence is open to speculation, though local musicians simply claim that the key of C is best for vocal range.

Mode in Southern Music

In common-practice Chinese music, scales of available pitches are heptatonic; however, most pieces in the southern repertoires are structurally pentatonic. In this study, differentiation between these concepts is essential. I use the term ‘scale’ in reference to the heptatonic pitch set, and ‘mode’ in reference to the pentatonic. Chinese scholars commonly use the term diao (wg: tiao) in identiﬁ cation of both forms. In the pentatonic systems of South China, modal practice differs quite noticeably

31 A useful table listing representative ‘yellow bell’ pitches from the Han dynasty onward is found in the music dictionary Zhongguo Yinyue Cidian (1984: 177), drawn in part from the earlier research of Yang Yinliu. 96 chapter four from the ancient wusheng system. As noted throughout this book, the important exception is found in nanguan music, where instruments are tuned to accommodate whole and half steps, and the repertoire exists in four different keys, each with wusheng-type modal variants.32

Modes of South China—the historic models The earliest of southern scholars to theorize their modal system were the Cantonese musicians Qiu Hechou (1917) and Shen Yunsheng (1929). Using gongche terminology, Qiu and Shen outlined three basic modes, all of which had been associated with the northern opera traditions of the 18th and 19th centuries (1917: 26). In this system, known locally as xian (literally ‘string’), these modes are identifi ed according to the ‘naming’ of the open strings on two-stringed lutes ( yueqin, qinqin) and fi ddles (erxian, tiqin)—naming in the sense that two pitch positions a fi fth apart (such as sol and re) are assigned to the two open strings.33 Shown in Fig. 4.8 are line drawings and ‘string’ diagrams for the early Cantonese erxian and yangqin, reproduced from Shen Yunsheng’s treatise Xiange Zhongxi Hepu (1929). The following three ‘string’ positions are outlined: 1. ‘sol-re string’ (he-che xian), in which the open strings are called sol and re, the associated mode being sol-la-do-re-mi-high sol. According to Qiu Hechou (1917: 33), this string association (and mode) was initially used in accompaniment of erhuang melody types in Beijing opera. Huang Jinpei (1996) concurs, believing that this zhi-type mode was derived from the Beijing opera tradition which had been introduced

32 The sophisticated nanguan tuning system is quasi-chromatic, with ten pitches available on pipa and dongxiao (d, e, f, f #, g, a, bb, b, c c#), most pitches with two or three fi ngerings (resulting in a variety of pitch heighths) depending upon the particular mode. While scholars explain the repertoire in terms of four key areas ( F, G, D and C), my own research shows that no fewer than eight pentatonic modes are employed for different melodic variations (e.g., F pentatonic with fi nalis at d, f or g; c pentatonic with fi nalis at d or g, etc.). This system does resemble (and may possibly derive from) ancient wusheng theory. But it is not employed in the other southern traditions. 33 The Chinese terms xian, diao and diaoshi are words without very clear defi nition. Indeed, they contain mixed concepts. Xian (‘string’) is used in both Cantonese and Hakka musics in assignment of values such as sol and re to the two strings of an instrument. Xian, however, is only marginally related to the modal orientation of each melody, and it has nothing to do with actual string tuning (i.e., the twisting of pegs). The term diao in the contexts mentioned below refers to modal type (e.g., huandiao). In other contexts, however, it is used to identify performance keys and occasionally even the name of a melody. The term diaoshi is a modern word, usually applied to modal aspects of melodic progression and the strength of various structural pitches within each melody, most particularly at cadence points. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 97 into the South over the last two centuries. But it is undoubtedly related to other genres as well, such as pipa and zheng repertoires where sol-re pieces are numerous. 2. ‘la-mi string’ (si-gong xian), the open strings called la and mi, the resultant mode of la-do-re-mi-sol-high la believed by scholars to derive from the northern bangzi (or xipi ) opera melody types. It is evident that, traditionally, a wide range of variation has existed in the realization of this yu-type mode. Some sources suggest that musicians retuned their strings one step higher than for ‘sol-re string’, while others say they shifted their fi ngers one step higher. Histori- cally, in Cantonese music a second bowed fi ddle pre-tuned one step higher (the erxian) was usually employed (Huang 1996).34 In late 19th- century Hakka terminology, these two modal forms—sol-re and la-mi —are respectively identifi ed as the ‘southern way’ (nanlu) and the ‘northern way’ (beilu) (Hong nd.), evidence of the local perception of these regional associations. In this instance, the la-mi ‘northern way’ was performed one step higher than the sol-re form. In the music heard today, very little is performed in the la-mi mode, possibly because of the subsequent introduction of the more popular ‘crying mode’ type (described below) which, superfi cially, resembles la-mi in some respects. I suspect that at some time during the 1930s these forms became intermixed and confused. 3. ‘do–sol string’ (shang-liu xian), in which these positions are simply assigned to the open strings (rather than the strings being retuned a fourth higher), the resultant mode being do-re-mi-sol-la-high do. As seen below, the gong-type do-sol mode is now called fanxian (‘reverse string’) in all three southern cultures, owing to the ‘reversal’ of gongche positions—sol becoming do, and re becoming sol (maintaining the fi fth relationship).35

34 In his 1929 treatise, however, Shen Yunsheng shows the la-mi mode as starting at the same pitch position as the sol-re mode, which suggests that different practices may have been in effect at the same time. 35 A fourth modal form is also identiﬁ ed in early Cantonese sources, the so-called yi-fan (the equivalent of ti-fa). While the yi-fan modal concept is now of great importance in the southern traditions, it belongs to a different theoretical system because the positions of ti and fa are internal intervals (i.e., not aligned with the open strings) and they function as substitute pitches for neighboring pentatonic pitches. This system will be explained below. For more on the early Cantonese theory of mode and its inconsistent terminology, see Yung 1989: 106ff. which, however, includes some highly speculative hypotheses regarding pitch systems. 98 chapter four

a) Erxian and ‘string’ forms, R to L: he-che, si-gong and shang-liu

b) Yangqin and ‘string’ forms, R to L: shang-liu, yi-fan*, si-gong and he-che

* Note: yi-fan mode is normally considered a variant of the he-che mode (see text). Fig. 4.8 Early 20th-century Cantonese Instruments and ‘String’ Forms Line drawings from Xiange Zhongxi Hepu (Shen Yunsheng, 1929) YUELÜ: music theory and practice 99

Modes of South China—contemporary practice The above ‘string’ forms and their resultant modes refl ect Cantonese theory during the early 20th century. In present-day practice, three related modal forms are common in South China. These forms, which I believe show stronger Chaozhou infl uence, are notated as constructs in Fig. 4.9. Although names and performance keys differ among the Chaozhou, Hakka and Cantonese traditions, it can be seen that the structures are closely related. The two basic forms (4.9a and 4.9b), sometimes thought to be unique to South China, as a pair are believed by some scholars to derive from the forms of huandiao and kudiao employed in the northern qinqiang opera of Shaanxi province (Huang 1986; q.v. Zhongguo 1984: 212). Huandiao (‘joyful mode’)36 is organized sol-la-do-re-mi [sol]; the derived kudiao (literally ‘crying mode’) is organized in the more minor-sounding sol-ti–-do-re-fa+ [sol]. As noted in Chapter One, the Chaozhou people consider Shaanxi province to be their ancestral homeland. It seems that they introduced these modes (at least the ‘crying mode’) to South China, though perhaps the systems were brought south by way of another source. The third modal form, fanxian (‘reverse string’), mentioned above, is widespread in the opera traditions. These three forms can best be seen in reference to fretted-stringed instruments, such as qinqin lute (Fig. 4.10), which has common frets serving two strings tuned a fi fth apart.37 The modes in today’s practice are produced primarily by the shifting of individual fi ngers rather than of hand positions. With the exception of only a few Chaozhou, Hakka and Minnan melodies, southern melodies are not usually transposed, but remain associated with mode-specifi c fi ngering patterns. Returning to the Hakka and Cantonese modes shown in Fig. 4.9, it can be seen that in all modal forms the open strings (shown in whole- note values) remain stable.38 They also function as the controlling

36 Huandiao is also known as huadiao (‘fl ower mode’). 37 The qinqin (‘Qin [region] lute’) is a plucked lute with long fretted neck and ‘plum-blossom’-shaped resonating chamber. The term ‘Qin’ in this context refers to the historic region of Northwest China (present-day Shaanxi province). This lute is specifi cally associated with Chaozhou music. Similarly, on the yangqin dulcimer each course of strings (running across the left row of bridges) is divided in a two-to-three relationship, thus producing two pitches a fi fth apart. 38 While stringed instrument tuning differs according to range, the principal Hakka strings are normally tuned c-g or c'-g' (as shown)—for performance in the key of F; Cantonese strings are usually tuned g-d' or g'-d''—for performance in the key of C. Chaozhou string tuning is unusual in that the lead instrument (erxian) is tuned c'-f ', though supporting instruments are tuned either f- c' or c-g (as in Hakka tuning)—all for performance in F. 100 chapter four structural pitches of most melodies performed, notably the short opera- derived qupai melodies (q.v. Chapter Five), where cadential patterns tend to fall on sol and re. The pitches in between these pairs of structural pitches change from one mode to another, though typically they are organized in parallel tetrachords (columns a and b).39 In fanxian mode (column c), pitches are organized in asymmetrical groupings, a set of three conjunct pitches on the bottom and a standard tetrachord on top. 1. The fi rst and most popular modal form is organized sol-la-do-re- mi (Fig. 4.9, column a)—the southern equivalent of the ‘joyful mode’ form and essentially the same as the Cantonese he-che xian used in performance of erhuang melodies. This is also the mode of Xixiang Ci, discussed at the beginning of the chapter (Fig. 4.1). On fretted stringed instruments, this mode requires the use of the two open strings (for sol and re) and stopped strings at frets 1 and 3 for other pitch positions (Fig. 4.10b). On the zheng zither, the above pitch positions are identical with the natural pentatonic tuning system of the instrument. Chinese musicians notate this mode (in either gongche or cipher notation) as if it were the equivalent of sol-la-do-re-mi-high-sol, the open strings usually associated with the principal cadence pitches of sol and re.40 Musicologists, invoking the authority of the ancient wusheng system, call this the zhi (sol) mode—and, in this case at least, there is fair correspondence between the court and common-practice systems. But in South China, local terminology prevails. Hakka musicians call this orientation the ‘hard mode’ ( yingdiao), as opposed to the minor-sounding ‘soft mode’ (introduced below). In Chaozhou terminology, it is named ‘light 3–6’ (qingsanliu), in reference to the use of ‘unpushed’ la and mi strings on the zheng zither (i.e., the normal string tuning without the downward pressing techniques which produce pitch alterations). The Cantonese refer to this mode as ‘proper string’ (zhengxian), a term apparently borrowed from the older Hakka tradition. This particular mode

39 The term tetrachord here refers to the organization of pitches within the range of a perfect fourth. In Chinese modal systems, like Japanese and European folksong modes, it is useful to diagram octave organization in two tetrachords, a lower tetrachord and an upper tetrachord, these separated by a whole-step interval. 40 It will be seen in Chapter Five that, in the case of the big Baban-derived pieces in the Chaozhou and Hakka repertoires (e.g., Xunfeng Qu), while string tuning remains at sol and re, cadences are dominated by do and sol. Yet, local musicians still identify the mode as a sol-re form, obviously privileging the sol-re positions of the strings over the actual melodic cadences. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 101 a) Huandiao (huadiaoform ) form b) Kudiao formform c)c) FanxianoFanxian form form sol-la-do-re-mi (sol) sol-ti–-do-re-fa+ (sol) do-re-mi-sol-la (do)

Fig. 4.9 Three Predominant Modes, regional variants in South China is locally recognized as being the oldest and most frequently employed, the ‘parent mode’ from which the others have been derived. It accounts for roughly half of the Chaozhou repertoire, but more than 75% of the Cantonese and Hakka repertoires. 2. The second mode, organized sol-ti–-do-re-fa+ (Fig. 4.9, column b), on the qinqin lute requires the use of open strings, together with stopped strings at fret 2 (instead of fret 1) and at fret 3. As mentioned above, the strings themselves are not retuned for this mode. The signs ‘–’ and ‘+’, following the pitch positions of ti and fa, indicate that they are sounded at respectively ﬂ atter and sharper positions than equivalent equal-tempered pitch positions (as detailed below). On the zheng, this mode is realized by raising the pitches of la and mi by increasing the tension on these strings.41 The well-known melody, Chushui Lian (“Emerging lotus blossoms”), which is performed in both the Hakka and Chaozhou zheng traditions, is set in this mode (q.v. Fig. 4.11). More will be said about Chushui Lian below. This minor-sounding mode, the equivalent of the northern ‘crying mode’, is derived from the ﬁ rst mode by a change of two internal intervals, and notated as shown in column

41 Tension is applied to the strings by the left hand, pressing them downward on the non-playing side of their elevated bridges. 102 chapter four b) Chaozhou/Cantonese qinqin a) Qinqin lute temperament, in cents* (basic range in g-d' tuning):

nut g d'

fret 1 a-20 e'-30

340

fret 2 b-60 f '+40 500

fret 3 c' 160 160g' 180 (1200)

* Measurements for qinqin and xiao are presented as rounded constructs since temperament details differ among instruments. (Three of each instrument type measured by A. Thrasher, 1990s) c) Hakka/Cantonese xiao ﬂ ute temperament: mid-range, in cents:

g' a' b' c'' d'' e'' f '' g''

180 170 150 200 180 150 170

350 330

500 200 500 d) Twenty-four unit Cantonese temperament theory of Li Yan (1983)*

* This schema redrawn with western pitch equivalents appropriate to Cantonese music. Fig. 4.10 Traditional Temperament, Three Constructs YUELÜ: music theory and practice 103 b.42 The Hakka call this the ‘soft mode’ (ruandiao) for its perceived ‘gentle’ quality, as opposed to the more assertive ‘hard mode’.43 In Chaozhou terminology, it is ‘heavy 3–6’ (zhongsanliu), because the la and mi strings on the zheng are ‘pushed’ to create ti– and fa+ respectively. The Can- tonese simply call it ‘ti-fa string’ ( yifanxian) since ti– and fa+ are used instead of la and mi. In all three southern cultures, the performance of ti– and fa+ is often accompanied by tonal movement of some sort, sometimes gentle vibrato or, in overcoming discrepancies in ensemble intonation, more pronounced ‘shaken sounds’ ( yaosheng). Pieces in this mode, while not as common as the ﬁ rst, have a distinctively sad emotive ‘feel’, one usually reserved for melancholy or sorrowful affective states (e.g., “Lament of Zhao Jun”). The mode accounts for as little as 15% of the Hakka and Cantonese repertoires, but nearly 40% of the Chaozhou repertoire. According to Huang Jinpei (1996), this mode was not known in Cantonese music prior to the 1920s, and is believed to have been introduced by Hakka or Chaozhou musicians. 3. The third mode (Fig. 4.9, column c), organized do-re-mi-sol-la, requires the use of open strings (on the qinqin lute), together with frets 1 and 2 on the low string, and frets 1 and 3 on the high string (Fig. 4.10b)—a difference of only one interval from the ﬁ rst mode. The open strings on plucked and bowed instruments are not retuned, but simply re-labelled do and sol.44 This mode—which is essentially the same form as the earlier-cited shang-liu xian—is heard as major sounding, the aural impression being of a transposition to a fourth lower, since do is now sounded at this lower position.45 It is now called ‘reverse string’ ( fanxian) by all three southern cultures.46 But between the Chaozhou-Hakka and Cantonese traditions, the melodic realizations of this modal concept are

42 Some Cantonese scholars have confused this mode with the la-oriented si-gong xian, as if the structure were actually heard as la-do-re-mi-sol (this problem addressed below). 43 The terms ying and ruan, literally ‘hard’ and ‘soft’, in Hakka usage can also be translated as ‘infl exible’ and ‘fl exible’—‘infl exible’ suggesting the standard sol-re mode, ‘fl exible’ suggesting the ‘crying mode’ form due to the need to change string tensions on the zheng in order to obtain ti and fa. 44 On the pentatonically-tuned zheng, however, the do string (of the fi rst mode) must now be retuned a half-step lower—becoming mi in the third mode. 45 Differences are found in Chaozhou fanxian because the strings on the erxian, lead two-stringed fi ddle, are tuned a fourth apart (c'-f ') rather than a fi fth apart. Therefore, in a standard Chaozhou transposition (Fig. 4.9c), do becomes b fl at—a fourth higher because the lowest string is tuned c' (and not lowered to b fl at). 46 Fanxian is pronounced as ‘fan-syen’. 104 chapter four

Fig. 4.11 Chushui Lian (“Emerging lotus blossoms”), initial phrases Transnotation of melodic skeleton, showing range differences in mode not the same. In both Chaozhou and Hakka music, some short qupai melodies are actually transposed to other pentatonic tonal centers as well.47 Cantonese fanxian melodies, on the other hand, are newly composed (rather than transposed from the traditional repertoire).48 Pieces in the fanxian mode occupy a relatively small position in all repertoires, accounting for about 10% of the Cantonese repertoire and about 5% of the Hakka and Chaozhou repertoires.49

In summary of the two basic modal forms in today’s practice—the ‘joyful mode’ and ‘crying mode’—it is important to note that the pitch positions of sol, do, re and high sol in performance are tonally stable, intervallically ‘perfect’50 and tend to remain unornamented. The pitches between these positions are subject to several types of varia-

47 Examples of fanxian transpositions in the Chaozhou and Hakka repertoires include Liuye Jin, Yidian Jin (App. B5) and several other short melodies (q.v. Chapter Five). 48 One important example of the Cantonese fanxian repertoire is the famous 1930s Lü Wencheng composition, Pinghu Qiuyue (“Autumn moon over the peaceful lake”, App. B6 and B7). 49 There are other, more highly specialized modes in South China, such as the idiosyncratic Chaozhou ‘active 5’ mode (huowu). The ‘active 5’ mode is so named because the fi fth degree (re) is somewhat sharpened and performed with tremolo. Externally, it resembles the ‘heavy 3–6’ mode. Another mode heard very occasionally in Chaozhou music is ‘light 3—heavy 6’, organized sol-la-do-re-fa+, which is similar to the Shanghai mode ‘fa forget mi’ ( fan wanggong) in that mi is performed as fa+ but la is left unaltered. For a more detailed (Chinese-language) examination of these Chaozhou modes, see Cai 1982: 50–56. 50 The intervals of fourths, fi fths and octaves on fretted stringed instruments are typically pure or beatless. Perfect fourths and octaves result from fret placement (q.v. Figure 4.10), and perfect fi fths result from string tuning (on yangqin, bridges divide each course of strings in a two-to-three relationship, q.v. Fig. 4.8). YUELÜ: music theory and practice 105 tion: a) change, as when la is played as ti– and mi as fa+; b) greater ornamentation, especially on ti– and fa+, for which some movement is common; and c) temperament irregularities such as small major seconds and neutral thirds. These characteristics are common to the three cultures under discussion. As noted above, it is common for Chinese scholars to explain the modes of South China in terms of the historic wusheng system. Having emerged from the theorizing perspectives of the imperial court, this ancient system is still considered a logical model for explaining the common-practice modes because it provides an ordering sequence for their variations. There is little doubt, however, that it is also employed to legitimate and bring order to a not-very-tidy practice. For example, the northern scholars Gao Houyong (1981: 119–20) and Yuan Jingfang (1987: 313) suggest that Cantonese pieces in zhengxian (i.e., sol-re) can be explained in terms of zhidiao (the sol mode), whereas fanxian (i.e., do-sol) is a form of gongdiao (the do mode) (q.v. Fig. 4.3c). In a very general sense they are correct. But again, the wusheng system is founded upon the principle of whole- and half-step relationships, whereas common-practice music includes intervals of intermediate sizes. For the ‘crying mode’ type in particular—which has no wusheng equivalent—any attempt at showing the pitch positions fa+ and ti– occurring at tempered whole- and half-step positions (similar to their positions in a Western major scale) would be misleading in the extreme.51 Other problems emerge when these and other authors follow Can- tonese musicians in saying that zhengxian is in the ‘key of C’ (C diao), in light of the fact that the pitch C is generally insignifi cant in zhengxian mode; and also that Cantonese fanxian is a ‘transposition’ (zhuandiao) to the ‘key of G’ (G diao), when Cantonese melodies are never actually transposed. Thus, there is no shortage of confusion in the standard explanations of the southern musical systems. To what extent does the old court theory really enlighten us about contemporary practice? Do scholars invest too much analytic authority in the wusheng system? What role does temperament play?

Temperament Some local scholars have suggested that Chaozhou and Cantonese melodies are traditionally performed in ‘seven-equal-tone’

51 For an example of such analysis of the Cantonese modes, see the fi ngering positions shown on pp. 119–126 in Gao Houyong’s infl uential book Minzu Qiyue Gailun (1981). 106 chapter four temperament (qipingjun lü). According to this theory—which emerged in Chinese scholarship during the 1980s, possibly in resonance with earlier Western theories of Southeast Asian instrument tuning—the heptatonic intervals in traditional music are said to be ‘equal’ in value, each of approximately 171 cents (Chen 1988b: 17; 1998: 62).52 I have questioned this theory for many years. It has also been challenged by other Chinese scholars, who correctly demonstrate that Chaozhou heptatonic intervals are of varying sizes.53 In practice, it is clear that traditional heptatonic intervals are of two slightly different sizes: small whole steps and three-quarter steps. In the early 1980s, a useful theoretical diagram was proposed by the Cantonese scholar Li Yan (1983). Li divides the octave into 24 pitch units, with both lower and upper tetrachords shown at 4 + 3 + 3 quarter-step units (i.e., one whole step followed by two three-quarter steps), the two tetrachords separated by a whole step of 4 units (totalling 24 units) (Fig. 4.10d).54 Had Li done pitch measurement, he would have realized that the initial whole-step intervals are slightly smaller than equal-tempered (4-unit) whole steps. But the model is conceptually interesting, albeit representative of yet another attempt to regularize the irregular. As suggested above, the basis of the southern system is found in fretted and bridged stringed instrument construction, where strings are tuned a perfect fi fth apart and the tetrachords built on these pitches are identical (or nearly so) because of common fret placement (Fig. 4.10b). Hakka and Chaozhou instruments I have measured show remarkably consistent arrangement for both lower and upper tetrachords of the fundamental octave range: that is, one small whole step of about 180 cents (sometimes larger), followed by two three-quarter steps of between about 150 and 170 cents. In a study of Chaozhou yangqin temperament by Zheng Shimin and Chen Wei (1990: 79), the authors found a similar tetrachord distribution, though in one instance a whole step was found

52 In the ‘cents’ system—a pitch measurement system devised by western theorists— the octave is divided into 1200 cents, with an equal-tempered minor 2nd (semitone) standing at 100 cents, major 2nd at 200 cents, minor 3rd at 300 cents, major 3rd at 400 cents, and so forth. 53 Basic Chinese-language critiques are found in the writings of Zheng Shimin and Chen Wei (1990: 75–88) and in a review by Chen Yingshi (1993: 3–9). For an English- language summary of this debate, see Dujunco 1994: 67–71. 54 Note that in ancient Indian music theory, the octave was divided into 22 units (srutis), rather than 24, with resultant interval sizes of 4 and 3 units (for large and small whole steps) and 2 units (for half steps). YUELÜ: music theory and practice 107 to be as large as 196 cents and a three-quarter step as small as 144 cents. My own measurement of Chaozhou yangqin temperament has yielded yet other results. Why the discrepancy in these measurements? First, temperament standards differ from one village to another, an observation made by myself and other scholars. In his thorough examination of Chaozhou temperament, Chen Yingshi (1993: 4) points out that, owing to changing ideals during the 20th century and to varying village traditions, “there is no single temperament system commonly employed in Chaozhou music.” Bearing in mind the general principles introduced above, I believe a similar statement could be made for Hakka and possibly Cantonese temperaments. What is further, instrumentalists performing together in heterophonic unison regularly differ in the placement of these internal intervals (especially for ti– and fa+) by 10 or more cents. Such differences are often above the threshold of pitch discrimination, resulting in mild dissonances. It is partly because of this, I believe, that instrumentalists embellish these pitches with ‘shaken sounds’ and other effects. The organization of two tetrachords, each constructed of a small whole step and two three-quarter steps is most clearly evident in the fretting positions on lutes (such as qinqin, 4.10a). The same basic organization is also found in the string positions on the yangqin dulcimer (where fa+ sounds a perfect fi fth above ti– because yangqin bridges divide the strings in a two-to-three relationship, Fig. 4.8), and in fi ngerhole positions of the xiao end-blown fl ute (Fig. 4.10c).55 Note that these particular pitch measurements, which are shown merely as constructs rounded to the nearest tenth, are not identical from one instrument to another. Yet, due to performance adjustments and use of embellishments, the instruments can be satisfactorily played together. One perplexing question arises at this point: how can the pitch at the second fret (Fig. 4.10b) be said to represent a minor-sounding third in the ‘crying mode’ form (sol-ti–, which musicians sometimes mistakenly notate as la-do in relation to the open string) and a major-sounding

55 Not surprisingly, instruments in local ensembles are carefully tuned to the same pitch standard and usually tempered similarly. Two exceptions are the zheng zither and huqin fi ddle, the open strings of both also carefully tuned but, in placement of ti– and fa+, performers must adjust to the temperament of qinqin, yangqin and xiao. For yangqin temperaments, see the pitch measurements outlined in Zheng and Chen (1990: 79) and Chen (1993: 7). Similar fl ute measurements of my own remain unpublished. 108 chapter four third in fanxian (do-mi)? Most older performers of qinqin, yangqin and xiao with whom I have spoken deny altering this second-fret pitch (ti–) one way or the other during performance. In his monograph, Cantonese Opera, Bell Yung confi rms this older practice by quoting a statement in a 1984 Guangzhou publication: “In the traditional music of Cantonese opera, the scale degrees 7 [ ti–] and 4 [fa+] do not change pitch heights [among the three modes].” (1989: 107). There can be no doubt that the primary reason for maintaining the same pitches for all modes can be found in the specifi cs of traditional instrument construction (e.g., placement of frets and fi ngerholes), where pitch deviation can be a cumbersome process.56 The above quote is relevant because the same instruments used in opera accompaniment are also used in instrumental music. While issues of temperament have been addressed by Cantonese and Chaozhou scholars, the cognitive subtleties of the above major- sounding/minor-sounding interval question have not been examined. I believe that this seeming discrepancy can best be explained in terms of aural perception of how this interval (at the second fret) functions within different modal contexts. Fret 2 is located roughly 340 cents above the open string (4.10b), and sounds like a large minor 3rd (or what could be called a ‘neutral third’) in relation to the open string pitch. However, when the pitch at fret 2 is sounded together with fret 1 (which is about 160 cents below) and without fret 3, it assumes a quality more closely identifi ed with a major 3rd—and which, in fanxian mode, musicians very signifi cantly notate as the equivalent of do-re- mi. It is apparent to me that the difference in pitch function at fret 2 is nothing more than a change of aural perception, resulting from the intermediary presence (or absence) of the pitch at fret 1.

Linear Elements of Mode Mode in traditional music is a considerably more dynamic element than commonly reported. While southern melodies are clearly rooted in the above modal forms, the regular employment of modal substitutions, shifts and other changes prevent

56 While pitch is entirely fl exible on the bowed strings gaohu, erxian and yehu (and of course with the human voice), on fretted instruments such as qinqin and pipa, pitches can be sharpened by pushing strings across the raised frets (increasing their tension) but not easily fl attened; on fl utes, pitches can be fl attened by cross fi ngering or “bending” but not easily sharpened; on the yangqin dulcimer, pitches cannot be changed in either direction without retuning the instrument. These are the instruments on which the traditional temperament is preserved. YUELÜ: music theory and practice 109 the more creative melodies from sounding strictly pentatonic and static. Two of these linear effects have been introduced at the beginning of this chapter. To review, passing and neighboring tones are employed with some freedom in connecting and embellishing pentatonic pitches; and secondly, ‘borrowed notes’ ( jiezi ) are employed in specifi c patterned contexts. Note, however, that the practice of substituting ti– for do and fa+ for sol (which is distantly related to the historic concept of bianyin) is conceptually different from that of substituting ti– for la and fa+ for mi, the latter employed in creation of modal variants such as the ‘crying mode’ types (examined above and seen in Figures 4.9 and 5.3). The third linear element in Chinese modal practice involves melodic range, whereby different pentatonic variants are employed for the lower and upper octaves. In sol-ti–-do-re-fa+ structures in particular (the ‘crying mode’ form), the low range of a given melody (sol-ti–-do) is usually restricted to these pitch positions (though la may appear as a passing tone); whereas in the octave above, the tetrachord sol-la-do is more common—that is, without the upper-octave ti–. This modal effect can be seen in the very famous and evocative Hakka melody Chushui Lian (“Emerging lotus blossoms”, Fig. 4.11). In the opening measures, the pitch d'' (la, which theoretically lies outside of this structure) appears in the opening motif of phrase a, but when the melody descends into the lower octave in phrase b, the pitch e' (ti–) is more prominent. I have found that this phenomenon is common in South China. In Chaozhou music, it is so predictable that Chen Tianguo (1998: 25) outlines this mode as sol-ti–-do-re-fa+-high sol-high la.57 (A zheng realization of Chushui Lian is reproduced in App. B4.) A fourth linear element involves modal shift. While theorists are in the habit of assigning pieces of music to specifi c modes, the more creative pieces may shift among two or more modes during the melodic fl ow. When this occurs for an entire musical phrase or longer, and functions as a structural element (as opposed to brief improvisational pitch substitution), the change is usually called ‘alternating mode’ ( jiaoti diaoshi ). This type of linear shift from one modal orientation to another is occasionally heard in the southern repertoires, both traditional and composed. A good example is the Cantonese piece Shuangxing Hen (“Regret of the

57 In addition to Chushui Lian, other examples of this practice include the Hakka pieces Yashan Ai and Xueyan Nanfei, the Chaozhou Hanya Xishui (App. B2), and the Cantonese Ema Yaoling (App. B9) and Shuangxing Hen (App. B8). 110 chapter four

Fig. 4.12 Shuangxing Hen (“Regret of the double stars”), four phrases Transnotation of melodic skeleton, showing ‘alternating mode’ phrases double stars”, Fig. 4.12).58 Four phrases are transnotated here (the entire melody shown in App. B8). Shuangxing Hen is essentially set in the ‘crying mode’ form, yifan (sol-ti–-do-re-fa+); but the melody merely begins and ends in this mode (phrase a). At measure 12 (phrase b), the mode shifts to an unusual F pentatonic mode for one short phrase, shifting back to phrase a material (in yifan) a few measures later. Then at measure 26 (phrase c), the mode changes again, this time to the closely-related C pentatonic mode (zhengxian), followed by another shift at measure 30 (phrase d) to G pentatonic (which is the Cantonese fanxian mode). Shuangxing Hen ends as it begins, in yifan. Note should be made that with all three modal shifts, the cadential pitches are consistent with the conventions of yifan structure (i.e., the dominance of sol and re). Thus, the concept of mode in South China is sophisticated, involv- ing not only the several pentatonic forms, their temperaments and affective states, but also linear elements such as the use of ‘borrowed notes’, modal shifts and pitch variation between low and high registers. ‘Borrowed notes’ are found in all repertoires of the South. Low-high octave differences are also very common, but mostly restricted to the sol- ti–-do-re-fa+ structures. Linear shifts in modal orientation (‘alternating

58 According to local knowledge, Shuangxing Hen was originally entitled Shuangsheng Hen (“Regret of the double sounds”), the terms xing and sheng pronounced the same in Cantonese and probably mixed up. The earlier title seems to refer to the undesirable quality of certain ‘sounds’ (later, ‘stars’) (Lai 2006). YUELÜ: music theory and practice 111 modes’) are found in a smaller number of pieces, most frequently in the more creative Cantonese repertoire, less often in Chaozhou and Hakka repertoires.

The Challenge of Equal Temperament Within the recent several decades, the traditional temperament system has come under steady pressure from younger musicians wanting change to a system more compatible with equal temperament. Older musicians, playing in the amateur clubs, have continued to perform in the traditional temperament. Indeed, the pieces in all repertoires requiring fa+ and ti– can be effectively performed only in the old temperament. Challenge to the traditional system has come mostly from Cantonese musicians, many of whom have been trained at the Xinghai Conser- vatory of Music (Guangzhou) and other institutions where Western music is promoted. During the mid-20th century, the ideal of Western temperament penetrated deeply into curricular studies by way of basic training in piano and the study of harmony. In line with this trend, Cantonese instrument factories in the late 1950s began constructing fretted stringed instruments and fl utes in a quasi-equal temperament system. Frets on lutes and fi ngerholes on fl utes, traditionally spaced equidistantly for production of three-quarter-step intervals, were repositioned to sound whole- and half-step intervals. While this change allowed for acceptable performance of music in two of the three basic modal systems (e.g., the Cantonese sol-mode zhengxian and do-mode fanxian), with the disappearance of fa+ and ti– the distinctive yifan mode (the ‘crying mode’ form) could no longer be effectively performed. Some Cantonese musicians during this period attempted to play yifan pieces as if they were in G minor, using b fl ats and f naturals (sometimes f sharps). With these changes, the effect of the three-quarter-step interval was lost. During the 1990s, musicians devised a workable compromise by adding additional frets between the factory-set frets on pipa and zhongruan lutes, and inserting additional bridge positions on yangqin dulcimers. These instruments can now be played effectively in both old and new temperament systems, with three options each for the troublesome fa and ti positions: fa natural, fa+, and fa sharp; ti fl at, ti–, and ti natural—the higher ti natural, which is played as mi in fanxian, being especially popular in the fanxian mode. Chaozhou and Hakka musicians are presently struggling with these essentially Cantonese adaptations in instrument construction, with younger conservatory-trained players 112 chapter four preferring the new fl exible system and older traditionally-trained players maintaining the older system.59

Can deep cultural infl uences be discerned in these melodic issues? I have suggested in this chapter that elements of the Confucian worldview underlie Chinese perceptions about the pentatonic tonal system—notably, its rationalization as a fi ve-tone system. As well, performance keys are believed by some to be related to the ‘yellow bell’ pitches of the imperial period. Of equal cultural signifi cance is the tendency of contemporary scholars to explain the southern modes in terms of the ancient wusheng modal system devised by court theorists. The wusheng system, however, is not a sharp tool for analysis of the common-practice modes. The effect of employing this system (if not necessarily the purpose) has been to regularize (even Confucianize) musical traditions which are based upon other principles—a form of Confucian rationalization of the irregular.60 For melody, with its twisting contour and irregular phrase organization, more creative infl uences seem to have been at work. To what extent these stylistic characteristics can be explained in terms of Daoist philosophy is uncertain. The Daoist impulse is more hidden than that of Confucianism. Ensemble musicians rarely admit of Daoist infl u- ence, other than to state that good performance style must be ‘natural’ (ziran)—in the sense of being spontaneous rather than rehearsed, fl exible rather than rigid. If these Confucian and Daoist infl uences seem opaque, their impact on musical form, performance practice and aesthetics is unmistakable. These connections will be drawn in the two chapters which follow.

59 Mercedes Dujunco, in her study of Chaozhou music (1994), found that Chaozhou musicians from Hong Kong had difﬁ culty playing together with musicians from eastern Guangdong province due to these differences in temperament, the Hong Kong musicians following the traditional system more closely. 60 Other non-Confucian attempts to regularize local practice must include the “seven equal tone” theory and the twenty-four quarter step theory described earlier in this chapter. CHAPTER FIVE

BABAN AND THE SIZHU REPERTOIRE

When the ancients composed [music] . . . each piece was given 68 beats (Pipa Pu, 1762)

While common-practice modal forms seem to have been infl uenced less by Confucian thought than by regional practice, other organizational and performance elements display a more conscious range of correlations with cultural belief. In this chapter—which is focused upon another area of analysis—I examine the concept of melodic models (qupai), together with the historic methods by which these have been transformed into new tunes and the subsequent growth of the southern instrumental repertoires. The ancient, largely Confucian, ideology appears to have been an infl uential force in at least some of these structural areas. Underlying the southern repertoires are symbolically important numerological issues, notably the proper number of beats in Baban-based pieces, the theoretical number of variations in traditional suite forms, and the essential yin-yang duality within the southern ‘silk- bamboo’ categories themselves. Perhaps of greater signifi cance, however, is the ideal of deriving new material from the old, an ideal manifest in the traditional forms of ‘variation’ (bianzou).

Sizhu Repertoire

In the sizhu traditions of South China, two repertoire categories are commonly identifi ed. The Chaozhou distinguish between the ‘great suites’ (datao), which are pieces in the Baban form (or closely related), and ‘popular tunes’ (liuxing diao), which are generally shorter in length and lighter in content. Hakka musicians similarly divide their repertoire into ‘great melodies’ (dadiao) and ‘miscellaneous melodies’ (chuandiao). In the eclectic Cantonese tradition, where so many external infl uences have been accepted into practice, these sharp divisions disappear. Yet, older musicians are aware of what they call the ‘old 114 chapter five tunes’ ( gudiao or guqu), as opposed to numerous lighter melodies in the repertoire.1 For all three cultures, the repertoire in the fi rst category consists almost entirely of 68-beat Baban variants—the culturally heavy pieces of the distant past. In some Chaozhou and Hakka published collections, the 68-beat variants are organized together according to repertoire size, such as the Chaozhou ‘ten great suites’ (Zhang 1958) and the Hakka ‘sixteen great melodies’ (Luo 1985).2 In other collections, however, the 68-beat variants are mixed with tunes of lesser importance (Luo 1982a). Pieces in the second category are mostly the shorter, light and lively qupai tunes associated with traditional opera. This category will be discussed fi rst, followed by a lengthier examination of the Baban variants.

The Qupai Foundation The instrumental repertoires of South China are built upon a system of old melodies which have served as structural models. These models are collectively known as qupai, literally ‘song board’,3 though more normally translated as ‘named song’ or ‘labelled melody’. In popular terminology, qupai are often simply called paizi (‘labels’). Qupai is a broad concept, commonly employed in identifying a wide variety of instrumental melodies used as opera interludes and as models for instrumental repertoire. Historically, these tunes emerged from several sources, notably traditional opera interludes (in which they are still used), Yuan and Ming dynasty songs (1279–1644), urban melodies and other sources.4 In fact, the names of some tunes have been found in Tang and Song sources (618–1279), but the old melodies themselves were not notated during those periods (Zhongguo 1984: 321). Neverthe-

1 The Cantonese collector and composer Qiu Hechou (1917) was probably the fi rst to distinguish among the instrumental melody types gudiao (‘old tunes’), the more popular guochang qu (‘crossing-the-stage tunes’) and xiaodiao (‘short tunes’). In Minnan nanguan, somewhat similar categories are differentiated in the pu and zhi repertoires, though 68-beat variants are not found in the pu genre, and the zhi genre is not based upon popular or opera tunes. 2 These repertoire numbers represent a kind of attenuated symbolic relevance, both being multiples of highly auspicious numbers—for the Chaozhou, fi ve suites in ‘light 3–6’ mode and fi ve in ‘heavy 3–6’. In Hakka music, however, the presumed rationale for sixteen—eight plus eight—if ever recognized has been forgotten. 3 According to Gao Houyong (1981: 295ff., 1989: 4), the term qupai derives from the old practice of writing the titles of music to be performed on announcement boards, a practice not seen today. Qupai is pronounced as ‘chü-pai’; wg: ch’ü-p’ai. 4 Chinese folksong types, such as shan’ge and haozi, are not recognized as being among this group of diverse sources. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 115

Fig. 5.1 Liuqing Niang, qupai of 30 beats, Chaozhou ‘light 3–6’ version less, Chinese scholars assume that instrumental music during the late Song period was largely based upon qupai-type models and that this repertoire was in popular usage during the Ming dynasty (14th to 17th centuries).5 Qupai are essentially short instrumental tunes, in the equivalent of mixed quarter- and eighth-note rhythms, and performed at moderately- fast tempos. They are typically identifi ed by names (hence the translation ‘named song’) and often by their number of beats, though small regional differences appear in both names and lengths. As discussed in Chapter Four, distinctive modal orientations are usually clear, especially at cadences where pairs of pitches a fi fth apart dominate modal structures. Among the older tunes, phrase lengths tend to be mixed between regular and irregular, such that an initial phrase of four beats may be followed by a second phrase of six beats, and subsequent phrases of other lengths (q.v. Figures 5.1, 4.1, and also the Baban motivic subdivisions in 5.2 and 5.3). Most numerous of the qupai melodies are opera tune-types known as guochang qu (‘crossing-the-stage tunes’). Guochang qu are instrumental melodies of varying lengths, performed on bowed stringed instruments or on suona (shawm) in accompaniment of movement on stage or other non-singing stage action (e.g., the entrance of generals, dancing scenes, etc.). Thus, within the traditional opera context, these tunes have specifi c functional associations. In performance, they are repeated over and over until the stage action requires a change of music. Shown in Fig. 5.1 is Liuqing Niang (“Lady Liu Qing”), a relatively short guochang qu, of which a Jiangnan version was seen in the previous chapter (Fig. 4.5). Lady Liu Qing was a legendary singer during the Tang dynasty. This melody is widespread, played in Beijing opera for dance

5 For further examination of this history, see Chen 1985: 35, Cheung 1975: 476, Gao 1981: 225, and Shanghai 1981: 28. 116 chapter five accompaniment, in Chaozhou instrumental music (where it is performed in different modal forms), and in other regional genres.6 Liuqing Niang is 30 beats in length, organized in fi ve short phrases of irregular lengths, and has a re - la modal orientation. Other guochang qu infl uential on the development of instrumental music (their variable beat-counts given in parentheses) include Wannian Huan (24, 26), Da Kaimen (34, 38), and Liuyao Jin (60, 62). Yet other tunes have occasionally served as models as well, notably xiaodiao (‘short tunes’) and solo pipa melodies. Some scholars include xiaodiao under the umbrella term qupai, while others differentiate more sharply between xiaodiao and other qupai types such as guochang qu (q.v. Qiu 1917). Xiaodiao are songs which have become popular in urban areas, the songs Moli Hua (“Jasmine fl ower”) and Mengjiang Nü (“Lady Mengjiang”) being among the best known of this type. These tunes tend to have regularly organized phrases, commonly four phrases of eight beats each.7 One diffi culty in researching these types of melodies is found in the presence of different (often regional) titles for essentially the same tunes. Some titles refl ect only slightly different variants of the same terms;8 but for other identical melodies, the titles are entirely different.9 Similarly, different regional variants with identical titles do not necessarily identify the same tunes.10 Within regional traditions, however, there is generally a high degree of continuity in the naming of pieces. Therefore, systematic melodic analysis of the tunes themselves, together with their

6 Liuqing Niang was also used as the model for Lü Wencheng’s 1930s composition, Yinghua Luo (“Falling cherry blossoms”)—one of the few instances where Cantonese composers have actually employed this older creative process. For a more thorough examination of Liuqing Niang, see Thrasher 2002: 233ff. 7 For notation of these and other tunes, see Li 1975 and Luo 1982a. Brief descriptions of the major qupai can be found in Zhongguo 1984. Gao Houyong’s short article “On Qupai” (1989) offers some English-language insights. 8 Examples of identical tunes with slightly different names include Xiao Kaimen and Xiao Baimen, Wannian Huan and Wannian Hua, Liuyao Jin and Liuye Jin, and Da Baban and Lao Baban. 9 Examples of identical tunes with entirely different names include Da Kaimen and Shuilong Yin, Wannian Huan and Dongchuan, Moli Hua and Xianhua Diao, and Da Baban and Tianxia Tong. 10 Examples of instrumental pieces with identical titles but different melodies include the Cantonese Yuda Bajiao and the Jiangnan pipa version, the Chaozhou Hanya Xishui and a northern melody with the same name, the Hakka and Jiangnan versions of Xunfeng Qu, the Jiangnan sizhu piece Meihua Sannong and the same-named qin piece, and many others. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 117 modal variations and beat-counts, must be accomplished before this corpus of old melodies can be fully understood.

Baban The qupai most inﬂ uential on the structures of Chaozhou, Hakka and Jiangnan musics is Baban (“Eight beat”). To call Baban a qupai is troublesome in several respects, the most notable being its apparent instrumental origin (as opposed to the presumed vocal origins of guochang qu), but also because of its close association with Confucian ideology (as explained below). In absence of a better term, I propose calling Baban an ‘instrumental qupai’. Baban is indeed the most widespread of all instrumental structures in China, employed throughout North China in xiansuo string music and the local Buddhist ritual music, in the zheng zither repertoires of eastern Henan province and coastal Guangdong province, and in the traditional pipa repertoire of the Jiangnan region as well (q.v. Thrasher 1989: 67ff.). It is also heard in many regional opera traditions, where it functions as an introduction (guomen) to a scene, and sometimes in accompaniment of dance.11 The history of this melodic model is sketchy, but since it is so widespread it is assumed to be very old. Du Yaxiong (1999a: 98) reports having seen a notated Song dynasty (960–1279) version from Wutai- shan (Shanxi province) in the library of the Music Research Institute, Beijing. In the 1762 manuscript, Pipa Pu, a northern version of Baban is notated in the gongche system (transnotated in Yuan 1987: 162ff.). The most frequently cited published source of Baban appears in the 1814 collection of chamber music, Xiansuo Beikao (transnotated in Cao 1955). Here it is shown as a source melody for a number of instrumental variations and interpretations. But certainly the vast wealth of Baban variations is found in the ongoing regional traditions. In its most common southern form, Baban has 68 beats. The number 68 has been assigned great signiﬁ cance in Chinese instrumental music. Commentary in the 18th-century Pipa Pu states that “When the ancients composed [music] . . . each piece was given 68 beats.” In the Hakka and Chaozhou repertoires, and in the Shandong and Henan zheng repertoires

11 Baban was well known among Cantonese musicians during the early 20th century (q.v. Qiu 1917), but subsequently forgotten as the composers of new music moved away from this model. Among Minnan musicians, Baban is considered to be ‘popular music’ and is not included in the nanguan repertoire. 118 chapter five of North China as well, instrumental pieces of this length are thought to be the oldest and most important. But why the number 68? While musicians are unable to theorize this question, scholars have offered various explanations—most deriving from Chinese number theory. The commonly accepted theory suggests that 68 is derived from the ancient bagua system (i.e., the ‘eight diagrams’ or trigrams, introduced in Chapter Two). One variant of this system consists of 64 graphs (i.e., the hexagrams, derived by multiplying the number eight by itself ). This belief holds that musicians considered 64 to be the proper number of beats for a good melody, to which four beats were added for other cosmological reasons.12

Fig. 5.2 Liuban, 52-beat Jiangnan and Hakka versions in melodic skeleton

12 Q.v. Gao 1981: 155, Huang 1986, and Du 1999a: 98, 2002: 50ff. For a review of these and other explanations and rationalizations, see Thrasher 1988: 4–5. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 119

While the 64-graph hexagram theory is often presented as the only plausible explanation for the number of Baban beats, several troublesome questions remain. First, in the Jiangnan region of central-eastern China, the same melody—known as Liuban (“Six beat”)—is normally only 60 beats in length. It differs from the 68-beat form not only in length, but also in the presence of different ending phrases and some internal cadence points as well. However, the 60-beat Liuban may not be the earliest form in the Jiangnan region, for a good number of 52- beat variants—also known as Liuban—have been collected.13 Shown in Fig. 5.2, two slightly different variant forms of the 52-beat Liuban are juxtaposed. Transnotated on the top staff (5.2a) is a version from a Shanghai source published during the early 20th century (Zheng 1924). It is organized in the following pattern: fi ve 8-beat phrases (a, a', b, a'', c), followed by one 4-beat ‘conjunctive phrase’,14 and a fi nal 8-beat repetition of phrase two (a'). This precise organization has been recorded in many sources (notably Yang 1958: 49 and Gan 1985: 23). On the bottom staff (5.2b), a 52- beat Hakka suona version is organized: fi ve 8-beat phrases (as above), followed by the 4-beat ‘conjunctive phrase’, then another 4-beat phrase (drawn from the end of phrase a), and fi nally a restatement of the 4-beat ‘conjunctive phrase’ (as a cadential phrase) The opening fi ve phrases of these two versions are essentially the same, but small differences appear in the cadence at the end of phrase one (do vs. re) and in the brief melodic extensions in phrases two and four of the Hakka version. In their eight-beat endings, however, signifi cant structural differences are found. The Jiangnan and Hakka regions are distant. It is understandable that, in these oral traditions, the beginnings of old melodies and forms would be better remembered than their endings. But can different ending

13 An excellent source showing the diversity in the Baban/Liuban structure is Gan Tao’s collection, Jiangnan Sizhu Yinyue (1985: 19ff.), where versions of 68, 64, 60, 56 and 52 beats are notated. 14 The source for the designation ‘conjunctive phrase’ is Xue Jinyan (1999: 77–94). In earlier references to this short interpolated phrase, I have called it a ‘cadential phrase’ because, in some 68-beat forms, it also appears at the end as a fi nal cadence (as in 5.2b). Therefore, logical arguments can be made for using either term, depending upon context. 120 chapter five phrases be explained in terms of faulty memories, or might regional preferences be a factor? To gain deeper understanding into the relationship among the 52-beat, 60-beat and 68-beat versions, it is necessary to review some terminology. During the early stages of my research on this topic, I frequently pondered why the 52-beat and 60-beat forms were called Liuban (“Six beat”) and the 68-beat forms called Baban (“Eight beat”). Some Chinese musicologists have speculated that, since the term ban means ‘beat’, the initial phrase of Liuban may have had only six beats (the middle two beats being omitted), while the initial phrase of Baban had eight beats. This explanation is unacceptable for two reasons: fi rst, six-beat opening phrases have not been found in either notated or common-practice versions; second, and most signifi cantly, the term ban in earlier usage did not mean ‘beat’ as this term is employed today. The renowned musicologist Yang Yinliu may have been the fi rst to explain that, historically, “ban means musical phrase” (1958: 49). It will be remembered from Chapter Four that, sometime during the Song dynasty, ban replaced pai as a metric term. This older concept of a phrase-length ‘beat’ is now called daban (‘large beat’) by some musicologists (Du 1999a: 96). With this understanding, I believe that the Baban-Liuban question can fi nally be clarifi ed. The 52-beat Liuban (“Six beat”) is clearly constructed of six ‘large beat’ phrases of eight beats each, plus the short interpolated four-beat conjunctive phrase (= 52). Discrepancies between endings of the Jiangnan and Hakka versions (q.v. Fig. 5.2) are most likely due to the fact that this model was passed on by way of oral transmission—though one can doubt whether there ever was a single ‘original’ ending pattern. The 60-beat Liuban, which is now standard in Jiangnan sizhu, includes one further 8-beat phrase at the end (essentially repeating both the a and a’ phrases), sounding a total of seven ‘large beat’ phrases of eight beats each, plus the additional four-beat phrase (= 60).15 Why this version was never called Qiban (“Seven beat”) can only be a matter of speculation. But, as suggested in Chapter Two, number symbolism was a strong determinant of value and meaning in traditional Chi- nese thought. I suspect that, assuming the seventh phrase was added to the 52-beat pattern for reasons of balance, the number ‘six’ was

15 An early 20th-century gongche notation version of Hua Liuban is reproduced in App. A5. For further documentation of the 60-beat Liuban, see Witzleben 1995: 72ff. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 121 maintained in the title for the purpose of continuity in identifi cation, but also because the number seven was never assigned the positive symbolic values of six or eight.16 Therefore, while Liuban probably had six phrases before having seven, the standard Jiangnan version is now always performed with seven. Against this background, a better understanding of Baban (“Eight beat”) is possible. The 68-beat Baban—which is the standard length in South China—consists of eight ‘large beat’ phrases of eight beats each, plus the short four-beat conjunctive phrase (= 68). Following the above analysis, the meaning of the name Baban should now be unambiguous. With its eight phrases of eight beats each (Fig. 5.3), the Hakka Baban appears to be a model of regularity and Confucian number theory. Yet, because of sophisticated motivic relationships and rhythmic twists after the sixth phrase, the structure displays a fl owing, even angular, sense of movement. The motifs in phrases one and two, with their rhythmic subdivisions of 3+2+3, are identical, the fi rst phrase cadencing on do, the second on sol. Phrases three and four are constructed of contrasting material, the fourth phrase rising into a higher tessitura, though rhythmically related to phrases one and two. Phrase fi ve is drawn from both phrase one (where the rhythmic subdivisions are identical) and phrase three (where it displays a variant of the contrasting motif and also cadences on re). Beginning with phrase six, the structure becomes less clear and analytic explanations differ from one scholar to another, in part because of differences amongst the regional versions. The four- beat ‘conjunctive phrase’ follows phrase fi ve, consistent with the 52-beat versions, and in turn is followed by a four-beat cadential motif drawn (in part) from the end of phrase one (a). Phrase seven, again beginning with the conjunctive phrase, parallels phrase six (though cadencing on sol). Finally, phrase eight is derived from the contrasting motif in phrase three (b)—accelerated by one beat—and the form concludes with a fi nal statement of the four-beat conjunctive phrase, here as a short coda.17 Thus, in Baban, there is symmetry between phrases one and two, six and seven, and in the eight-beat phrase organization in general. But in

16 An interesting parallel demonstrating how practice is often brought into correspondence with number theory is found in the Confucian-Buddhist ritual music of Beijing, where melodies notated in a heptatonic scale are actually performed pentatonically (q.v. Du 2002: 48ff. ). 17 For a different analysis of the later Baban phrases, see Yuan 1987: 165–8. 122 chapter five

Fig. 5.3 Da Baban, 68-beat Hakka versions, two modal forms the rhythmic subdivisions (3+2+3 in particular) and toward the end of the form, a greater degree of asymmetrical organization is found—the effect being to maintain a uniﬁ ed structure and balance regularity with irregularity. Most Chinese scholars assume that the 68-beat Baban represents the urtext form. For example, Yang Yinliu, following the analysis of Zheng Jinwen (1924: 42), states that originally there were eight phrases which were subsequently reduced to six (1958: 49). This is entirely possible, especially since the conservative Chaozhou and Hakka cultures maintain the 68-beat model, whereas in the Jiangnan area (with their relatively shallow roots in 18th- and 19th-century practice) the 60- and BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 123

52-beat models are most common—at least in sizhu music.18 Did one model evolve into another, or might different variants have existed side by side? Having heard a number of local village variants of differing lengths (56 beats, 64 beats)—some of which have never been notated or published—I am convinced that different variants became established in different regions. This is also the opinion of Gan Tao (1985: 17), who states that Liuban is the southern form (‘southern’ in this context meaning central-eastern China), while Baban is the northern form (i.e., Henan and Shandong). He should have added that Baban is also the prevailing form among the Chaozhou and Hakka. But it should not be assumed that the 52-beat model is a reduction of a longer form. In a recent study of this variant (Thrasher 1995: 97–118), I examined what I saw as a close structural relationship between the Chinese model (and associated suite forms) and the similar danmono tradition of the Japanese koto repertoire, where 52-beat pieces have been standard for several hundred years or longer.19 Assuming that this analysis is correct, it could be concluded that the 52-beat form is old in China as well.

Qi-Cheng-Zhuan-He This is an organizational concept of importance within the circles of the Chinese literati but of questionable relevance in common-practice music. It is mentioned here because some scholars believe this ideal is relevant to Baban organization. Qi-cheng-zhuan-he is essentially a structural ideal, consisting of the following sections: 1) ‘introduction’ (qi ); 2) ‘continuation’ (cheng); 3) ‘transition’ (zhuan); and 4) ‘synthesis’ (he).20 As employed in traditional literature and poetry, the opening ‘introduction’ establishes the theme and its mood, which is then ‘continued’ and developed in the second section. Following this, a ‘transition’ (the third section) moves the work to the ﬁ nal ‘synthesis’, which in some meaningful way draws the parts together.

18 In the Jiangnan pipa repertoire, however, the 68-beat form is standard (e.g., Yangchun Baixue). 19 The Chinese zheng, initially a 13-string zither, was introduced into Japan between the 8th and 12th centuries. There have been legends suggesting that zither music was also imported from China to the Japanese island of Kyushu during the 9th century (Tanabe 1954: 249). But other scholars believe that Chinese zither music was not introduced to the island until sometime after the 13th century. 20 Qi-cheng-zhuan-he is pronounced as ‘chi-cheng-juan-heh’. 124 chapter five

This structural ideal is very widely cited by the Chinese literati in explanation of form. It is also employed by music scholars in analysis of Baban, where the ﬁ rst double phrase of 16 beats is said to be the ‘introduction’ (qi ), the next double phrase a ‘continuation’ (cheng), and so forth.21 But qi-cheng-zhuan-he is merely an ideal and a way of explaining organization. It is not grounded theory. In the sense that the structure is organized in a logical sequence, it has a Confucian feel. However, most performing musicians in China are not familiar with this model, a reminder that not all scholarly interpretations are understood or accepted at the local level.

The ‘Variation’ Ideal in Compositional Practice

One of the basic premises historically made by China’s artists and composers is that their work be rooted in past practice. While lines of continuity can be seen in most creativity around the world, in Chinese creativity, continuity with the past became a pivotal ideal, consciously implemented in both form and aesthetics. An early literary reference to this ideal appears in the Yueji (“Record of Music”), a statement which is quite explicit about the adverse cultural implications of too much change: “If there are too many forms [of ceremony], there will be chaos; if there is excessive [musical] invention, there will be violence.” It will be remembered from Chapter Two that promotion of social harmony and moderation, and prevention of chaos and violence were priorities for imperial governments. While music was specifi cally identifi ed for its perceived ability to promote these ideals, other arts were not exempt. In both landscape painting and chamber music, the concept of ‘old and refi ned’ ( guya) was more than just an aesthetic notion; it was a cultural expectation. Just as artists attempted to recapture the ‘spirit’ ( yi) of the old masters, and writers and opera librettists used the old stories as models for new works, so also did composers when they recast the old pieces of music into increasingly varied new ones. Cheung Sai-bung notes that by the Song dynasty (960–1279), the use of old melodies to create “fl owing and beautiful” new melodies was actually mentioned in

21 See, for example, the analyses of Yuan Jingfang (1987: 166ff.) and Xue Jinyan (1999: 77ff.), the latter in English translation. The Chaozhou scholar Chen Tianguo (2004) has similarly attempted to demonstrate the applicability of this ideal to local Baban forms. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 125 court records (1975: 476). It is apparent that the regional chamber music repertoires emerged primarily from the old qupai tradition through the creative application of several derivative techniques. These techniques are collectively known as bianzou (‘variation’).22 There is nothing specifi - cally Confucian in this process, but the variation ideal emerged within Confucian culture and was nurtured by its advocates. The concept of qupai in Chinese instrumental music has functioned in a manner not unlike that of cantus fi rmus in Western European music. A cantus fi rmus is a melody taken from an extant source (such as plainsong, northern chorale tune or secular tune) and used as a basis for more complex compositions—usually as a tenor for polyphonic elaborations (i.e., variations). In European music, this process was common in the development of 13th- and 14th-century motets, 15th- and 16th-century masses, and 17th- and 18th-century organ chorales by J.S. Bach and others. Without wanting to suggest cross-cultural infl uence during this broad period, the Chinese qupai concept is similar in its drawing upon a diverse pool of melodic ideas, in its function as a structural basis for new repertoire and even in terms of time period—though in China this compositional practice extended into the early 20th century. Three types of ‘variation’ account for the vast majority of the southern repertoire: ‘embellished variation’, ‘modal variation’ and ‘beat-form variation’. In my own research, I have found a fourth type which I will call ‘phrase variation’.

‘Embellished Variation’ It is apparent that the most fundamental type of compositional variation in traditional practice is one based on the structural foundation of a given qupai, upon which new melodies are simply invented. The northern scholars Yuan Jingfang and Li Minxiong have called this type ‘embellished variation’ (runshi bianzou).23 ‘Embellished variation’ is found in instrumental music throughout China, though poorly theorized for the music of South China. In this process, a known melody is taken as a foundation, its beat-count, phrase lengths, cadential pitches, contour, and sometimes motivic characteristics forming a basic (but occasionally elastic) structure. Over this structure, new melodies are created, some closely related, others more distant.24

22 Bianzou is pronounced as ‘bian-dzou’; wg: pian-tsou. 23 Yuan 1986: 57 and Li 1988: 25. I have also heard this type of variation called ‘melodic variation’ (xuanlü bianzou). 24 A fair analogy could be made with the twelve-bar blues, a form with an established 126 chapter five

In Chaozhou and Hakka cultures, as in areas of the North, the favored structure for this type of variation has been Baban. As an example, the ﬁ rst phrase of Hakka Baban is shown in Fig. 5.4, line a. The characteristics of this phrase—twisting melodic line, irregular phrase subdivisions and cadence on do—have been examined. Below this (lines b, c and d), the beginning phrases of three derived pieces are shown, all 68 beats in length. Luancha Hua (“Disorderly Arrangement of Flowers”), line b, displays a closely related melodic contour, and a cadence on do, but also a shift in the phrase subdivision, resulting in two motivic units of equal length. Huangli Ci (“Poem of the oriole”), line c, is a ‘beat-form variation’ type (described below) at moderate tempo (2/4), also with similar contour and cadence, but with phrase subdivisions separating three roughly equal units. Finally, Dandian Tou (“A nod of the head”), line d, is another moderate ‘beat-form variation’, with a contour clearly related to Baban, but displaying yet different phrase subdivisions and a cadence on re (as in the Jiangnan version, Liuban). Among the four examples, note the instances of motivic relationship near the phrase endings, and sometimes in earlier locations as well (shown with asterisks and dashed lines). These melodies are said to be different, yet they are derived from a common structural model, and their patterns continue into the second and third phrases as well (not shown), after which greater diversity is found. Numerous examples of ‘embellished variation’ can be found in both Hakka and Chaozhou repertoires. Some 68-beat pieces are close variations (as seen in Fig. 5.4), others are more imaginative (e.g., Xiao Taohong), and a few are based upon entirely different melodic models but set in the 68-beat form, perhaps to give them a sense of legitimacy (e.g., Pingsha Luoyan).25

‘Modal Variation’ ‘Modal variation’ (diaoxing bianzou), as usually deﬁ ned, is a type in which one or both non-pentatonic pitches are substituted for the original pentatonic pitches, either ti used in place of la, or fa in place of mi, or both. This process was introduced in Chapter Four. To review: a melody in the sol-la-do-re-mi structure—which is widely recognized as being the original modal form—may be performed in

harmonic structure and a variety of stable melodic characteristics as well (e.g., phrase organization, tessitura, cadential patterns, etc.). 25 The pieces cited here are notated in Luo 1982a: pp. 30, 52, 56, 84 and 89. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 127

Fig. 5.4 ‘Embellished Variation’ Hakka Baban form and three derived pieces, opening phrases the derived form of sol-ti--do-re-fa+. When fa and ti are used in this structural manner, they are performed in untempered ‘neutral’ positions. In this type of variation, the names of pieces do not change from one mode to another. The term diaoxing bianzou has musicological origins and is employed primarily by scholars. In areas of northern China, the term jiezi (‘borrowed notes’) is often used in identifi cation of this type of modal variation (but see the defi nition of jiezi given in Chapter Four). In the South, where local terminology is already well established, use of these northern terms is not common. The most numerous examples of this practice are found in the Baban variants. Returning to Fig. 5.3, the original Hakka ‘hard mode’ (or ‘joyful mode’ type) Baban melody is shown on the top staff (5.3a), with the derived ‘soft mode’ variant (‘crying mode’ type) below (5.3b). The linear structure of the Hakka 68-beat model has been examined above. Of relevance here is the practice of creating a variation by simply changing two pitch positions (la to ti and mi to fa) over a constant root. In the Hakka repertoire, modal variation is quite common, several important pieces traditionally played in either mode. Most notable amongst these, in addition to Baban, are the big ‘soft mode’ pieces Chushui Lian, Zhaojun Yuan and Yashan Ai. In all Hakka ‘soft mode’ versions, the pitch positions of fa and ti (here, b fl at and e) are employed in strict substitution for mi and la, though mi and la may appear quickly as passing tones; and, again, la retains a special position in the upper tetrachord (as seen at beat 29). 128 chapter five

In Chaozhou practice, this strict substitution is not common, the use of fa and ti being more dependent upon context. As my analysis shows, the appearance of fa in Chaozhou ‘crying mode’ variations is quite predictable when this pitch is grouped with pitches in the upper tetrachord (in this case, sol-la-ti-do), but not when grouped with melodic pitches in the lower tetrachord (do-re-mi-fa). Two contrasting phrases from Huangli Ci (“Poem of the oriole”) are shown in Fig. 5.5. In Phrase 1 (line a), as the melody moves through the lower tetrachord, mi (a') is performed in association with re (g') and do (f '). But when the melody moves into the upper tetrachord, as seen in Phrase 5 (line b), fa (b fl at') is heard in prominent positions (but not mi). These idiosyncratic modal shifts occur throughout Huangli Ci, and are found in Hanya Xishui (Fig. 5.11) and the Chaozhou version of Zhaojun Yuan as well. So, while the Chaozhou ‘heavy 3–6’ in theory requires the use of fa and ti in place of mi and la, the particular pitch positions appearing in any given piece for the most part are based upon context and range.26 A conceptually different form of modal variation is effected by the actual transposition of a melody to a new pitch position (or pentatonic key). As seen in Chapter Four, the basic modal shift in South China ( fanxian) is a transposition to a pitch one fi fth higher.27 Fanxian mode is found in all three southern repertoires (Chaozhou, Hakka and Canton- ese), though with some differences in specifi c forms and their functions. In Hakka music, however, several short qupai tunes are performed in transpositional variants extending beyond the basic fanxian to include all

Fig. 5.5 Chaozhou Huangli Ci (“Poem of the oriole”), two phrases Pitch positions of mi and fa in association with different tetrachords

26 In the several ‘crying mode’-type pieces in the Cantonese repertoire (e.g., Shuangxing Hen, Ema Yaoling), Hakka practice is followed more closely. 27 In Chaozhou practice, the basic fanxian transposition is a fourth higher. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 129

fi ve of the historic wusheng modes, and commonly in performance order of the circle of fi fths (do - sol - re - la - mi). This practice is unusual in other regional instrumental music and it may refl ect Hakka awareness of the wusheng pentatonic modal system detailed in imperial treatises. Examples in the Hakka repertoire include the frequently performed Liuye Jin (“Willow leaf of gold”), Ying Binke (“Welcoming guests”) and Yidian Jin (“A piece of gold”), all short qupai melodies.28 The 68-beat Baban melodies are not transposed in this manner. The opening measures of Yidian Jin are represented in Fig. 5.6, showing the beginnings of all fi ve variant modal forms and their cadence positions. Note that these are inexact transpositions. Not only do the minor-third gaps in the pentatonic structure fall in different positions relative to the fi nalis of each mode, but there are some small motivic changes as well. Against this, the rhythmic structure among these variants remains absolutely constant throughout, and titles are the same.29 So it is apparent that, historically, this type of transposition was employed in extending the dimensions of short qupai melodies, but not in creation of new repertoire. More will be said about these Hakka “modal variation” pieces under the examination of suite forms. Transpositional ‘modal variation’ is found in some Chaozhou repertoire as well, but its roots are not deep. According to older musicians (and in light of the absence of specifi c melodies in mid-20th-century collections, such as Zhang 1958), both the practice and repertoire appear to have been introduced by Hakka musicians within the last half century. In Chaozhou practice of today, the above-mentioned short Hakka pieces are all played in pentatonic transpositions. Within recent years, some Chaozhou musicians have experimented with heptatonic transposition, whereby short tunes are sequentially performed in all seven scale positions (Chen 2004). This newer variational practice is known locally as ‘seven reverse mode’ (qifandiao).30 It is not clear at present how widespread this further transposition is within the Chaozhou community, but I suspect it is still in the experimental stage.

28 Notations of these pieces can be found in Luo 1982a: 22ff., 68ff., and 99ff. For useful summaries of Hakka repertoire, see Luo 1985 and Ju 1995. 29 In fact, the titles are numbered sequentially: Yidian Jin (“A piece of gold”), followed by Erdian Jin (“Two pieces of gold”), etc., through Wudian Jin (“Five pieces of gold”). All ﬁ ve variants are shown in App. B5. 30 For more on Chaozhou transpositional variation, see Chen 1988b: 15ff., and Dujunco’s English-language analysis (1994: 106ff.). 130 chapter five

Fig. 5.6 Hakka Yidian Jin (“A piece of gold”), ﬁ ve modal forms Transpositional variations, opening measures of 28-beat qupai

Both types of ‘modal variation’ are also found in the Minnan nanguan repertoire, with several prominent qupai tunes (notably Miandaxu) appearing in modal variations, though in entirely different suites. In the Jiangnan region, there is only one modal variation of prominence, Dao Baban (“Inverse eight beat”) which, however, is rarely heard in performance.31 In Cantonese music, the western-inﬂ uenced 20th-century composers for the most part ignored this variational method in favor of ‘beat-form variations’ and entirely new forms.

‘Beat-form Variation’ The third type of repertoire variation prevalent in South China is known as ‘beat-form variation’ (banshi bianzou). In this process, a lively-tempo qupai melody is slowed, as if by augmentation, to either ‘moderate beat’ (zhongban) or ‘slow beat’ (manban). As examined in Chapter Four, with the tempo decrease, weak beats (yan) are added—a single weak beat for moderate-tempo decrease (2/4), three weak beats for a still slower tempo (4/4), or seven weak beats for the slowest (8/4). With the slowing of tempo, the basic structure of the melodic model is maintained, the stable parameters being the ﬁ xed beat pattern (in augmented forms), the melodic length (e.g., 68 beats), and the pitches coinciding with strong beats (ban) and at cadences. Given

31 Dao Baban was rearranged in the early 20th century by Nie Er into the now very popular Jinshe Kuangwu (“Crazy dance of the golden snake”), and it is this arrangement which is most commonly heard today. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 131

Fig. 5.7 ‘Beat-form Variation’ Chaozhou Baban and two derived ‘beat-form variants’, opening phrases these elements of stability, melodic fi ll of varying rhythmic densities is interpolated between the now augmented basic pitches of the model. Such melodic interpolations are generally known as ‘fl owers’ (hua) or ‘fl ower tones’ (huayin). Musicians call this process ‘slowing the beat and adding fl owers’ ( fangman jiahua).32 As seen in Fig. 5.7, derived ‘beat-form variants’ are more than just embellished qupai melodies; they are new-sounding melodies, especially when the beat is slowed substantially, phrase lengths realigned and melodic contours changed. Shown on the top staff (line a) is the fi rst eight-beat phrase of the basic Chaozhou version of Baban, the melodic model. It is performed at rapid tempo (kuaiban), punctuated by ban strokes only (x). Below this (line b) is the beginning of the Chaozhou 68-beat Jinshang Tianhua (“Adding fl owers to the brocade”), a ‘beat-form variant’ derived by way of a tempo decrease (x o) and modest addition of ‘fl owers’. Jinshang Tianhua has a different title and is considered a distinctive piece in the repertoire. Da Baban (line c), an unmistakable ‘beat-form variant’ of Baban (because of their shared titles) is performed at very slow tempo (x o o o), with numerous melodic interpolations and new

32 Optionally, this process is also called “increasing secondary beats and adding ﬂ owers” (tianyan jiahua). 132 chapter five phrase subdivisions. Development of this expansive technique has had a profound impact upon the growth of instrumental music and numerous examples can be found in the Hakka and Chaozhou repertoires.33 The Cantonese repertoire, as noted above, is known for its adaptations from other repertoires and its new compositions, but several important instrumental pieces have emerged as ‘beat-form variants’. The best- known example is the mono-sectional Hantian Lei (“Thunder in the drought”), which Huang Jinpei (1982) has shown to have been derived from the old Cantonese tune Sanjilang (Fig. 5.8). It can be seen that the very plain model melody (5.8b) serves merely as a basic framework of pitches. The derived melody (5.8a) is characterized by spirited rhythmic movement, changed melodic contours and, toward the end, two subtle shifts in phrase structure. In the case of Hantian Lei, the derivation is based primarily upon melodic invention, without a slowing of tempo or augmentation of the beat pattern. This is unusual in traditional creativity, but seen in several Cantonese adaptations.34 ‘Beat-form variants’ are found in Jiangnan sizhu as well, notably those based upon the Liuban model (the Jiangnan equivalent of Baban), such as Zhonghua Liuban (“Moderately embellished six-beat”) and Man Liuban (“Slow six-beat”). Jiangnan variants derived from shorter tunes are performed as well.35 In the case of Jiangnan sizhu, such ‘beat-form variants’ bear the names of the model melodies and are sometimes performed in ‘beat-form variant’ suites. At any rate, they are considered to be related variants, not new pieces.

‘Phrase Variation’ The practice of starting a variant melody at a later phrase of the model’s structure, if not the most important develop- mental technique in the southern sizhu repertoires, is certainly the most innovative and enigmatic. In this process, some new pieces have been created by starting the melody at the second or third phrase of the

33 The best-known Hakka ‘beat-form variants’ are Xunfeng Qu (also known as Xidiao, App. A1) and Huangli Ci. The principal Chaozhou variants are those represented in Fig. 5.7. For other examples, see Luo 1982a. 34 Another good example is Ema Yaoling (“Hungry horse jingling its bells”), a moderate- tempo expansion of the Hakka ‘soft mode’ Baban and a clear demonstration of the inﬂ uence of Hakka music on the Cantonese. Ema Yaoling is reproduced in cipher notation in App. B9. Recordings of Hantian Lei and Ema Yaoling can be found on the CDs listed in the last footnote of this chapter. 35 For further discussion of the Jiangnan repertoire, see Gao 1981: 83ff. and Witz- leben 1995: 58ff. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 133

Fig. 5.8 Cantonese Hantian Lei (“Thunder in the drought”), melodic skeleton Composition by Yan Laolie (c1927), showing derivation from Sanjilang 134 chapter five qupai, thereafter following its structure and adding the initial phrase (or phrases) to the end. This practice has been virtually ignored in Chinese scholarship. Indeed, when comparing such variants, one scholar attempted to show each as starting at beat 1 of the model, whether or not the structures actually lined up at this point. In my own analysis, I have found structural clues which must be given careful consideration— especially concerning phrase-end cadences and melodic contour. In variants which begin at later phrases, these structural factors are of crucial importance in determining alignment. A number of prominent pieces begin at later phrases, notably those derived from Baban and Liuqing Niang. For example, in some 68-beat Baban variants, one or two of the beginning 8-beat phrases are simply omitted. The melody starts at a later phrase, following the structure of the model at the beginning (and sometimes well into the middle) and adding to the end phrases equal in length to those omitted. How this practice emerged is not clear. We do know that when the old qupai melodies were performed in accompaniment of opera, they were repeated over and again until the stage action required a change. It is possible that opera musicians chose to start and stop at secondary phrases for variety, and at some later time these phrases became ﬁ xed as beginnings of some settings. It is also possible, and more likely, that starting points were selected by composers, and new variants thus created. Unfortunately, at this distant perspective, our knowledge about traditional composition must be based primarily upon analysis. The usual location for Baban ‘phrase variants’ to begin is at phrase 3 (beat 17). Shown in Fig. 5.9c are the opening phrases of the well- known 68-beat Chaozhou piece Hanya Xishui (“Winter ravens playing in the water”). The Hakka ‘soft-mode’ Baban is given above this for comparison (5.9a). It can be seen that the beginning two phrases of Hanya Xishui closely resemble phrases 3 and 4 of Baban. Later phrases (not shown) depart from the model’s structure and, at the end, two phrases (totalling 16 beats) are added to make up for their absence from the beginning. These ending phrases are essentially cadential in character, and do not resemble phrases 1 and 2 of the model—at least not in Hanya Xishui.36

36 Hanya Xishui will receive greater analytic attention at the end of this chapter. For the entire form of Hanya Xishui in cipher notation, see App. B2. Other examples of this type of variation are found in the Jiangnan pipa repertoire (e.g., Yuda Bajiao, a Baban variant). BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 135

There are examples of similar structural reorganization in the Hakka repertoire as well. The beginning of a Baban ‘phrase variant’ at phrase 2 (beat 9) would appear to be a less natural location than at phrase 3, because phrase 2 (in Baban) is simply the repetition of the ﬁ rst phrase. Yet, this is precisely where the Hakka version of Zhaojun Yuan begins (5.9b). Zhaojun Yuan (“Lament of Zhao Jun”) is an important slow 68-beat piece performed in all three southern repertoires—Hakka, Chaozhou, and Cantonese. These versions differ, however, in several details, the Chaozhou and Cantonese versions beginning at phrase 1 of the model, the Hakka version beginning at phrase 2. As seen in Fig. 5.9b, the Hakka melody follows the structure of Baban closely in the opening phrases, and into the middle as well. At the end, one 8- beat phrase is added to make up for the missing initial phrase. I know of no other 68-beat variant beginning at phrase 2, but in the 30-beat Liuqing Niang, ‘phrase variants’ starting at different locations throughout the structure abound.37

Fig. 5.9 Phrase Variation Hakka Baban form and two derived pieces, opening phrases

37 In the Chaozhou fanxian variant of Liuqing Niang, the beginning of the variant coincides with beat 5 of the qupai (q.v., Thrasher 2002: 236–238). 136 chapter five

The techniques examined above form what I have termed ‘the variation ideal’, a creative process whereby known tunes have been varied in established ways and new-sounding melodies derived from them. While there obviously has been an element of standardization in these techniques, a great amount of melodic invention ﬂ ourished as well, sometimes by combining the variational methods. Among the Chaozhou and Hakka, such melodies historically were then arranged into suites of different types.

The Suite Forms

In all southern cultures, with the exception of the Cantonese, melodies are ultimately combined with related variations or with other melodies, and organized into multi-sectional ‘suites’ (taoqu).38 In the Jiangnan and Cantonese traditions, melodies are more commonly structured in single-section forms, which the Cantonese sometimes call ‘short songs’ (xiaoqu). Music scholars in the suite-forming Chaozhou and Minnan cultures recognize a likely prototype of great historical importance—an early suite form known as daqu. So I wish to start here.

Daqu Suite Form ‘Suite’ types have a long history in China. Emerging in the Han dynasty and maturing in the Tang, a very inﬂ uential multi- sectional form known as daqu (wg: ta-ch’ü, ‘grand song’) became popular among entertainment ensembles of the imperial court. Scholars suggest that while daqu music was still being performed in the palaces of the early Song period, its imperial patronage declined and the tradition was subsequently absorbed by commoners outside of the courts. According to the Tang poet Bai Juyi, the early Song music scholar Chen Yang (c1100) and others of this period, daqu was organized in three broad sections: 1. Sanxu (‘random introduction’), a slow unmetered instrumental prelude, with subsections 2. Zhongxu (‘middle introduction’), a moderate-tempo set of songs with instrumental accompaniment, in ﬁ xed meter 3. Po (‘break away’), a concluding section at fast tempo in which dance was included, with numerous subsections.

38 This and the following qu terms are pronounced as ‘tao-chü’, ‘syao-chü’ and ‘da-chü’. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 137

The fi rst section (sanxu) was a long and slow instrumental introduction. The term san (‘random’) indicates that the music was unmetered, a stylistic concept preserved in the suite terminology of the Minnan and other regional traditions (e.g., sanban). Period references identify up to six subsections in this introduction.39 The second section (zhongxu) is known to have been metered and performed at moderate tempo, increasing in speed as it progressed. Most characteristic of this section is the inclusion of song. Three subsections are identifi ed, presumably for the presentation of different melodies. The third section ( po) was a lengthy conclusion, performed in increasingly faster tempos. Just as song was added to the second section, dance was added to the third. Of particular relevance to the musical structures of South China is the terminology found in this fi nal section. Among its numerous subsections, two are entitled ‘false hastening’ (xucui ) and ‘real hastening’ (shicui ). While these terms are open to interpretation, the fi rst suggests the impression of a quickening tempo (perhaps by way of an increase in rhythmic density, as found in Chaozhou suites); the second certainly refers to an actual tempo increase. Wang Wei-chen (1988: 141) suggests that, according to Chen Yang’s (early Song dynasty) terminology, another subsection named ‘hastened beat’ (cuipai ) may be an equivalent term for ‘real hastening’ (shicui ). Of what bearing could daqu organization and terminology have on today’s music? The most obvious structural factor in daqu is its overall tripartite organization, with sections of increasing tempo (slow, moderate, fast). In all three conservative southern cultures, suites are organized in sections of increasing tempo. As suggested in Chapter Two, the particular number of sections is primarily of numerological importance, for Chao- zhou suites—which are also explained in terms of three sections—are regularly performed in multiple sections. Minnan suites are normally organized in between three and eight sections. But incremental tempo increase is common to all systems. A second structural factor of relevance is the opening unmetered prelude (sanxu). Unmetered preludes are found in some Minnan suites, with others metered in a ponderous 8/4, giving the impression of being

39 For a (Chinese language) review of these sources and further information about the subsections, see Yang 1962b/1986: 333 and Wang 1988. 138 chapter five meterless. In Chaozhou and Hakka suites, opening sections are usually slow in tempo, some very slow, but always metered. Various Chaozhou and Minnan music scholars have written on these possible relationships, with special attention given to terminology. According to Chen Tianguo, Chen Anhua and other Chaozhou writers, the most speciﬁ c daqu concept of relevance to the Chaozhou tradition is the presence in both traditions of the term cui.40 As seen above, cui (‘hastening’) is one of several subsection terms found within the concluding po section of daqu. This term is still employed in Chao- zhou music, carrying a related meaning (implying a faster and highly stylized form of variation) and prompting local scholars to suggest a strong relationship.41 Two other relevant daqu terms, die (‘repeating’) and pai (‘beat’) will be cited below in examination of the Chaozhou suite. However, beyond the three-part structural outline, its terminology and several song titles and texts, little more is known about the historic daqu tradition. The actual music, if ever notated, has not been found. Chinese suites today are of different organizational types, the most prominent in South China being the Chaozhou and Hakka ‘variation forms’ and Minnan ‘chain forms’.42 These types of extended-form organization are characteristic of the respective cultures, but with few exceptions are not shared.

Chaozhou ‘Variation Form’ The broad category ‘variation form’ (bianzou ti), is an umbrella concept for several sub-types. In South China, however, only one sub-type is found with frequency, the ‘beat-form variation form’ (banshi bianzou ti ).43 (The ‘beat-form variation’ process was introduced above.) As a multi-sectional suite form, all sections are ‘beat-form variants’ of a single qupai, and organized from slow to fast. This form is highly developed in Chaozhou chamber music, where it is the most important suite-type principle employed. It is also found in Hakka music, together with other forms of suite organization. The textbook explanation of Chaozhou ‘beat-form variation’ suite form is of a three-part structure: a slow, highly embellished opening

40 Cui is pronounced as ‘tsue’; wg: ts’ui. 41 Some of Chen Tianguo’s theories are found in 1985: 34 and 1988a: 25ff.; see also Chen Anhua 1989: 19ff. 42 Useful pioneering work on traditional forms was done by Li Minxiong (1988: 23–60), though some of his terminology has proven to be controversial. For a summary of Li’s analysis, see Thrasher 2002: 234ff. 43 Banshi bianzou ti is known locally as ‘beat-form suite’ (banshi taoqu). BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 139

(touban); a moderate-tempo variation with syncopations (kaopai ); and a fast concluding variation (sanban). In practice, however, traditionally- trained performers exercise great fl exibility as to whether they wish to restrict their performance to these three sections, add other variations, or even repeat previously-played variations. These decisions are made by the lead instrumentalist (typically, on erxian) during performance and followed by the other ensemble musicians. As outlined in Fig. 5.10a, the fi rst variation (touban), a highly-decorated structural augmentation of the qupai model, is played in the equivalent of 4/4 meter and at very slow tempo. The same basic melody is then performed two or more times, moving from 4/4 to 2/4, each variation at increasing tempo, and each with highly-stylized rhythmic characteristics. The last variation is called sanban, a fast-tempo section in 1/4 meter. The three primary sections are shown in boldface type. Chaozhou suites can vary in length from about fi ve minutes, when performed with a minimum number of variations, to ten minutes or longer, when cui-type variations are performed. The order of these variations is fi xed by tradition, but there is fl exibility as to which variation types to include. A wide range of performance practice exists from one ensemble to another (and among soloists as well), following local standards, instrumental idioms and performance venue. Outlined in Fig. 5.10b are the realizations of various artists, showing that ‘beat-form variation’ forms can be performed very simply with just the three primary sections (commonly heard on commercial recordings) or in more extended realizations with as many as six, seven or eight sections. The most representative piece in the Chaozhou ‘great suite’ repertoire today is Hanya Xishui (“Winter ravens playing in the water”). It is also now very popular among zheng performers throughout China.44 While there is controversy over the meaning of the title, the translation given above (or closely related) has come into common acceptance.45

44 Hanya Xishui can be heard on many commercial recordings available in the West, including the LPs “Spring Night on a Moonlit River”, Nonesuch Explorer Series 72089–1 and “China’s Instrumental Heritage”, Lyrichord LLST 792; and on the CD “Sizhu: Chamber Music of South China”, Pan Records 2030CD. Earlier LP recordings pressed in Hong Kong can be found on the Art-Tune Company albums ATC-144, ATC-145 and ATC-224, some now reissued on CD. See also the Anthology series cited in the Preface. 45 Standard dictionaries translate hanya as ‘jackdaw’, a type of crow. The term hanya, however, most likely refers to a cormorant ( yuying), a larger species of ﬁ shing bird which works the waterways (Chen 2004). As noted earlier, titles in Chinese music are often given programmatic interpretations, such as “ﬁ sh hawks playing on the river 140 chapter five

a) Standard structure and options

1. Touban (‘head beat’) Usually performed 4/4, slow tempo with acceleration (mm 42–76) Highly embellished opening variation 2. Erban (‘second beat’) Optionally performed 2/4, moderate tempo with acceleration (mm 80–100) Characterized by cui-type variation in continuous 16th-note patterns (‘double cui’) or 32nd-note patterns (‘double repeating cui’) 3. Kaopai (‘whipped beat’) Usually performed 1/4, moderate to rapid tempo (mm c108) Characterized by motivic fragmentation and syncopations 4. Sanban (‘third beat’) Usually performed 1/4, rapid tempo (mm 112–144 or faster) Derived from the source melody (qupai ), Performed either in mixed quarter- and eighth-notes, or in ‘double cui ’ 5. Kaopai Optionally repeated 6. Sanban Optionally repeated Commonly performed in ‘double cui’ or ‘single cui’ variation patterns

b) Selected Chaozhou suite form realizations

Three-part suite form in theory: 1. touban 2. kaopai 3. sanban Chen Mayuan, zheng solo (c2000)—short form, also performed by Li Wei and others 1. touban 2. kaopai 3. sanban Xianshi ensemble, Shantou (1993)—short form, also performed by Su Qiaozheng (1985) 1. touban 2. kaopai 3. sanban at dbl. cui Su family ensemble (1986)—moderate-length form, with ending repetition and cuiban 1. touban 2. erban at dbl. cui 3. kaopai 4. sanban 5. kaopai 6. sanban at dbl. cui Shantou ensemble with Wang Peiyu (2006)—extended form 1. touban 2. erban 3. dbl. cui and 4. dbl. rpt. cui 5. kaopai 6. sanban 7. kaopai 8. sanban at dbl. cui

* dbl. cui = ‘double cui’ (shuang cui ); dbl. rpt. cui = ‘double repeating cui’ (shuangdie cui ). Fig. 5.10 Chaozhou ‘Beat-form Variation’ Suite, structure and realizations BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 141

Hanya Xishui is a ‘beat-form variation’ suite, loosely based upon the 68-beat Baban model. The relationship with Baban, however, is not obvious because this piece, like the Hakka Chushui Lian, has been freely adapted. As I have shown above (Fig. 5.9), the beginning phrases of Hanya Xishui were drawn from the third and fourth phrases of Baban (starting at beat 17). Hanya Xishui is set in the minor-sounding ‘heavy 3–6’ mode (the ‘crying mode’ type), and while sol and re dominate the internal cadence points, the fi nal cadence is on do. (The entire suite is reproduced in cipher notation in Appendix B2, with an erxian realization in B3.) The opening measures of Hanya Xishui are transnotated in Fig. 5.11, together with the beginnings of three variations which follow. The overall character of this suite is established in the initial measures of the very slow and stately touban (5.11a). The meter is in the equivalent of 4/4 (i.e., x o o o), the tempo increasing from roughly mm 42 to 76 quarter-note beats per minute.46 Note in this example that, within the ‘crying mode’ structure, the pitch position of la (d'') appears frequently in the upper octave but, in the lower octave, ti (e') is the dominating pitch. As seen in the earlier analysis of the Hakka Chushui Lian (Chapter Four), this particular high octave-low octave pitch difference is fairly consistent with other melodies in the ‘crying mode’ form. What is further, at several points during the touban there are brief phrase-length modal shifts ( jiaoti ), where the pitch position of mi dominates and fa serves merely as a neighboring tone (as seen at beat 64, second line of Fig. 5.11a). The touban, in theory, is followed by the variations kaopai and sanban. In practice, however, ensembles commonly perform an intermediary variation called erban (‘second beat’). Erban variations are usually metered in 2/4 (i.e., x o), the tempo increasing throughout the section. In some performances, erban sections are simply faster versions of the touban. But the primary melodic characteristic of erban is one of varying the touban melody with improvised patterns of pitch reiteration and conjunct pitch alternations (using upper neighboring tones) in continuous on a cold spring day, after they have caught the fi sh for the fi shermen” (Lai 2006: 23). One highly imaginative interpretation appears in the jacket notes of the Lyrichord LP cited in the preceding footnote: “In a winter morning, a lone raven helplessly hovers over the water. At last, another raven comes to join her mate. Thus, they begin to sing joyfully, and fi nally disappear together beyond the horizon.” For other less romanticized interpretations, see Chen Anhua’s analysis (1989: 21). 46 The numbers above the transcriptions identify overall metric structure. 142 chapter five

Fig. 5.11 Chaozhou Hanya Xishui (“Winter ravens playing in the water”) Cui and other melodic patterns for four variations sixteenth-note movement (Fig. 5.11b). This type of variation, which is characterized by an increase in rhythmic density, is known locally as cui (‘hastening’)—the same term found in Tang daqu form. In Chaozhou practice, different varieties of cui improvisation are employed. When the melody is sketched in sixteenth-note patterns—which is most common—the style is called ‘double cui’ (shuangcui, 5.11b); when in thirty- second-note patterns, ‘double repeating cui’ (shuangdie cui, not shown).47 Performers may choose one or the other of these patterns, or play both in sequence (q.v. the realizations of Wang Peiyu in Fig. 5.10b). In theory, each variation is maintained for the entire 68-beat pattern. In

47 Within ensembles, some performers have stylized ways of realizing cui patterns. For example, performers of pipa and sanxian typically play reiterated afterbeats on specifi ed pitches (not shown), rather than the conjunct alternations seen in Fig. 5.11b and 5.11e. For further information on this heterophonic detail, see Chen 2001 and Dujunco 1994: 95ff. Chen Anhua, in his attempt to demonstrate a structural relationship between Hanya Xishui and Tang-Song daqu, also cites several types of cui patterns used by different performers (1989: 19–25). BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 143 practice, skilled performers often change to the next variation pattern as the tempo increases, this as a cueing signal to set up the following variation. The variation known as kaopai (literally ‘whipped beat’) is nearly always performed in Chaozhou suites, and it is well standardized in performance detail among ensembles (5.11c).48 Normally metered in 1/4 (i.e., x x etc.), with the quarter-note beat played at about mm 108, its distinctive melodic characteristic is one of motivic fragmentation (in creation of fragments two or more beats in length), alternating with single eighth-note afterbeats. These highly stylized, essentially syncopated patterns are usually maintained for the entire 68-beat variation. The last variation, sanban (‘third beat’), is always metered in 1/4 and performed at faster tempo than that of the kaopai (between about mm 112 and 144, or faster). In early collections of Chaozhou music (such as Zhang 1958), sanban variations are notated in mixed quarter- and eighth-note rhythms (5.11d)—a sensible practice in terms of theory because it is the sanban which most closely refl ects (and in most instances is derived from) the ‘mother tune’ for each suite (i.e., the qupai basis). Some ensembles do play the fi nal variation in this style. In most performance practice, however, Chaozhou musicians treat the sanban as another opportunity for cui-type melodic invention, fi lling in the melodic skeleton with continuous sixteenth-note ‘double cui’ variations and conjunct pitch alternations (5.11e)—similar to the melodic style of the erban, but at faster tempo.49 Finally, at the performers’ discretion, the kaopai and sanban variations may be repeated. Thus, while Chaozhou suite form is usually outlined in terms of three principal variations, performers may add variations (such as erban), repeat one or two variations (kaopai, sanban), and further vary erban and sanban sections with cui variations, according to their preferences.

Other ‘Variation Forms’ Hakka instrumental music is organized in a wider variety of structures. It will be remembered that their Baban-based pieces

48 The term kaopai (‘whipped beat’) is sometimes identifi ed by Chaozhou musicians as kaoda (‘whipped-hit’), these two terms pronounced the same in Chaozhou dialect (Chen 2004). 49 Sometimes performers will opt to play eighth-note ‘single cui’ variations at this point, but ‘double cui’ types are most common. 144 chapter five are called ‘great melodies’ (dadiao), rather than ‘great suites’ (datao), the Chaozhou term for this part of the repertoire. Indeed, several of the best known pieces in the Hakka repertoire (Yulian Huan, Yashan Ai, Zhaojun Yuan) may be simply played once at slow tempo and, if repeated, then at the same tempo or slightly faster. Their ‘beat-form variation’ suites, in comparison with the lengths and complexities of Chaozhou suites, are generally shorter and of more simple design. Collections of Hakka music (such as Guangdong Hanyue Sanbai Shou, Luo 1982a) tend to notate only two performance speeds: an opening section at slow tempo (manban), followed by a variation at moderate tempo (zhongban). In practice, however, other variations are often added, including kaopai-type syncopated variations (which are not identifi ed as such) and ending variations in which the strong-beat melodic notes are played in alternation with fi xed pitches (such as in alternation with sol). Therefore, while Hakka suites appear to be conceptualized in just two basic sections, the above variations may be inserted or the zhongban variation repeated at faster tempo. As in Chaozhou practice, these decisions are made during performance, following the style of the lead instrumentalist. Other types of organization are found in Hakka music as well. For example, the famous piece Chushui Lian (Chapter Four) is often performed as a suite not by adding ‘beat-form variants’ but by performing a version of Baban at the end, and then repeating Baban once or twice at increasing speeds.50 In this manner, a simple type of ‘chain form’ is created, whereby one melody is followed by another (the ‘chain form’ introduced below). A second ‘variation form’ suite-type found occasionally in southern music is ‘modal variation form’ (diaoxing bianzou ti, this process also introduced earlier in the chapter). In Chaozhou practice, several types of ‘modal variation form’ are found. The form most often heard is based upon the local modal system, rather than upon the transpositional wusheng system. In this form, a short qupai tune is fi rst performed in the original mode, usually ‘light 3–6’, after which versions in the other local modes—such as ‘heavy 3–6’—are played, all without tempo change. The short qupai tune Liuqing Niang (Fig. 5.1) is a favorite for this type of performance. Baban, however, is not normally expanded into a suite in this manner (Chen 2004).

50 I have not heard Baban used as an ending section in Chaozhou suites, except in suites bearing this name (e.g., Da Baban). BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 145

Among Hakka musicians, a few short qupai tunes are treated to a type of ‘modal variation form’, where the melody is initially performed in the original mode, then actually transposed up in ﬁ fths to the other pentatonic pitch positions in sequence and performed as a suite, again without tempo change. The short piece Yidian Jin (“A piece of gold”), introduced earlier in this chapter (Fig. 5.6), is one of several pieces transposed in this manner. (The entire ﬁ ve-part suite form is reproduced in App. B5.) Similarly, Chaozhou musicians perform this same repertoire in transpositional suite forms, both at pentatonic and heptatonic pitch positions—the former being more prevalent. Transpositional suite organization, however, occupies a relatively minor position in both repertoires and is heard infrequently.

‘Chain Forms’ ‘Chain forms’ (lianqu ti ) are especially characteristic of Minnan music. In Minnan nanguan, most (but not all) suites consist of several or more different qupai melodies in a ‘chain’, normally linked sequentially in tempo sections from slow to fast, and often starting with an un-metered prelude known as sanban (‘random beat’)—not to be confused with the Chaozhou term sanban, which refers to the third section. As mentioned above, Minnan scholars also believe that the Tang daqu form (with its un-metered prelude, sanxu, and accelerating tempos) may have served as the prototype for their present-day ‘chain form’. Two types of ‘chain form’ organization are found in Minnan music: 1) the consecutive juxtaposition of different qupai themes—an example being the well-known suite Meihua Cao (“Plum blossoms”), in which four different themes (actually performed in fi ve sections) are stated in tempo groupings from slow to fast; and 2) the consecutive arrangement of different qupai themes separated by similar sounding interludes—an example being Qishou Ban (“Starting beat”), with fi ve different melodies similarly arranged from slow to fast.51 As noted above, the Minnan chamber repertoire is idiosyncratic in South China, an unusual preservation of palace entertainment music from the distant past. Since it is not a mainstream tradition outside of the Minnan region, with virtually no cross infl uence with Chaozhou, Hakka or Cantonese traditions, it

51 Meihua Cao is widely available on commercial recordings, including the LPs “The Music of China II”, Anthology AST-4002 and “The Music of Nan-Kuan”, First Records (Taiwan) FM-6028; and on reissued CDs. Qishou Ban can be found on the CD “Sizhu: Chamber Music of South China”, Pan Records, 2030CD. 146 chapter five will receive no further discussion here. In fact, the Hakka sometimes perform two or three melodies together in a ‘chain’,52 but this practice is not commonly heard—and it bears no immediate resemblance to Minnan practice.

Hybrid Forms There are yet other forms of suite organization in China, the most signiﬁ cant being the ‘cyclic forms’ (xunhuan ti), in which two qupai-length themes alternate with little or no tempo change. Such forms are not generally found in the South.53 In several Cantonese pieces, however, an embellished qupai-length theme is stated at slow tempo, followed by an unrelated coda-like theme at fast tempo. There are two classic Cantonese examples of this form, Zhaojun Yuan (“Lament of Zhao Jun”) and Shuangxing Hen (“Regret of the double stars”).54 The slow-tempo (4/4) beginning of Shuangxing Hen, with its shifting modal orientations, was examined in Chapter Four. The ending is a fast- tempo (1/4) coda-like mini-section, played once at moderate tempo and repeated twice at increasing speeds (q.v., App. B8). This form bears a resemblance to the Hakka practice of playing the slow Chushui Lian, followed by a moderate-tempo version of Baban. I have heard this type of short form in other Hakka repertoire as well, and suspect that it is the source of the above-described Cantonese form. For the most part, however, the Cantonese repertoire is mono-sectional in form, the older layer of repertoire following the organization of their respective qupai models (such as Hantian Lei ), the newer compositions of the early 20th century tending to be in individualized forms.

52 These include Dandian Tou followed by Luancha Hua; and Chushui Lian followed by Yashan Ai. 53 There are at least two sub-types of ‘cyclic form’ found in central-eastern China: 1) Chenda form, in which two melodies alternate from beginning to end, as in the Jiangnan suite Nishang Qu; and 2) Hetou form, in which one short melody serves as a rondo theme separating thematically different melodies, as in the Jiangnan piece Sanliu (q.v., Li 1988: 23–60). 54 A third, more popular example is the 1946 composition by Cui Weilin, Chanyuan Zhongsheng (“Bell ringing in a Buddhist courtyard”). Unfortunately, these Cantonese classics are not widely available on western recordings. But a good recording of Zhaojun Yuan is included on the CD “Sizhu: Chamber Music of South China”, Pan Records 2030CD. Historic recordings of all three pieces have been reissued on the eight- volume CD set, “An Anthology of Chinese Traditional and Folk Music: Guangdong Music”, China Records CCD-92/179 through CCD-92/186. Volume 3 in this series (CCD-92/181) is recommended. Another reissue of historic Cantonese recordings is “Favourite Traditional Cantonese Music”, a two-disc CD set issued by ROI Productions, RB-991014–2C. BABAN and the SIZHU repertoire 147

So, given the southern number-based systems of organization and various practices of deriving new material from the old, I believe that traces of Confucian ideology can be found in some musical structures—but only traces. The true depth and breadth of Confucian ideology is most clearly manifest in areas of performance practice and aesthetics, subject of the last chapter.

CHAPTER SIX

BIANZOU: PERFORMANCE PRACTICE AND AESTHETICS

The higher the quality of the music, the fewer its supporters will be (old Chinese saying)

Ruyue [Confucian literati music] is slow, elegant, and encourages good behavior (Chaozhou saying)

In this book I have examined the prevailing traditional Chinese ideologies and a core of related (and sometimes unrelated) structural elements in southern music, with the ultimate goal of holistically theorizing these traditions. The downward promotion of Confucian doctrine, emergence of philosophical cross-currents, and some observable manifestations of these ideologies in the structures of southern music have already been discussed. This chapter is about performance practice, musical behavior and belief. I begin with an analysis of the interactive principles of performance ‘variation’, and continue with observations on how this practice may be seen as a function of social interaction. An understanding of local concepts such as ruyue and xiehe will facilitate this analysis. Fol- lowing this, I conclude with a broad-based discussion of the values and aesthetic ideals underlying traditional music and of the ways these are seen by local musicians as cultural demonstrations of Confucian ideology and other trends.

‘Variation’ in Performance Practice

The southern instrumental repertoires are large, numbering many dozens of pieces in each tradition, but those in regular performance fall within the range of about ﬁ fteen to twenty. Each tradition has a smaller group of very well-known pieces which have especially strong cultural resonance and are performed over and again.1 How do skilled

1 For the Chaozhou, this group includes Hanya Xishui (above all), Da Baban, Pingsha 150 chapter six musicians sustain interest when there is so much repetition in performance? Aside from the fact that some will change instruments between pieces, the principal reason is that musicians attempt to vary the details of their performance each time they play. Thus, performance is more than mere repetition of the old tunes—it is creation as well. Performance creation is generally known as bianzou, ‘variation’, the same term used in identiﬁ cation of structural forms (q.v. Chapter Five).2 As noted in Chapter Five, several Chinese authors have written on ‘variation’ though usually with emphases upon organizational principles. The following discussion will focus upon bianzou as performance practice. At least two conditions are necessary for the success of Chinese performance variation. First, the melodies must be well known to the musicians. As seen in Chapters Four and Five, the southern chamber repertoires are based upon a group of old qupai tunes which have been expanded or varied in any of several ways. Performers are so familiar with these tunes that they do not use notation. In the traditional performance setting, the use of notation would inhibit the imaginations of performers and destroy an essential ingredient of the music. As a second condition, the musical system itself must be ﬂ exible enough to accommodate variation. The texture of Chinese music is heterophonic (zhisheng ti ). When viewed in comparison with Western homophony and its harmonic complexities, heterophony is sometimes assumed to be a rather simple system. As a result, it has not been treated critically in either Chinese or Western scholarship. In practice, however, Chinese heterophony is a system of great sophistication, in which all musicians perform the same basic melody with simultaneous variations suitable to instrumental idioms and—this is key—in accordance with established principles of the texture. These principles will be introduced below.

Luoyan, Liuqing Niang, and several others. The most culturally signiﬁ cant Hakka pieces include Chushui Lian, Yulian Huan, Xunfeng Qu, Xixiang Ci and Yashan Ai. Among the most highly valued in the Cantonese repertoire are Pinghu Qiuyue, Hantian Lei, Yuda Bajiao, Shuangxing Hen, Chanyuan Zhongsheng, Yule Shenping, and Zouma. 2 Bianzou is pronounced as ‘bian-dzou’; wg: pian-tsou. In translation, the term ‘improvisation’ is less appropriate because of its imprecise Western-language meaning (often taken to mean free, unstructured invention). Similarly, the term ‘embellishment’ is inappropriate because it suggests a stylistic addition, something to be added if time permits. BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 151

Reinforcing this texture is the pentatonic modal structure. The Chi- nese pentatonic structure, with its consonant major 2nds and minor 3rds and absence of harmonic foundation, permits a wide degree of latitude for pitch substitution—an essential feature of the variation process. In other musical systems, such as those based upon homophonic texture and heptatonic scale organization, the fl exibility to perform concurrent variations by all or most musicians would necessarily be more restricted because of the functional separation between melody and accompaniment and the strength of the harmonic underpinnings (which limit the choice of substitute pitches). The heterophonic and pentatonic systems allow performers the fl exibility to contribute in different and varied ways. Performance variation is a process based upon several principles. It is generally understood that musicians retain in their memories a basic skeleton of each piece of music (melodic shape, key motifs and beat structure). The basic melody is known as ‘main melody’ (zhudiao) or, in academic circles, ‘melodic skeleton’ (guganyin). The ‘melodic skeleton’—which is often the qupai tune itself—becomes the foundation upon which variations are created. A useful way to see this process is by examination of early notations. Most historic notations are essentially skeletal notations (q.v. Fig. 4.6). In more recent 20th-century skeletal notations, however, greater melodic detail is usually given, including short motifs in eighth and (sometimes) sixteenth notes. So, melodic skeletons may exist in multiple versions. Four skeletal versions of the opening measures of the Chaozhou piece Hanya Xishui are shown in Fig. 6.1. The fi rst (6.1a), a transnotation from gongche notation of a Qing dynasty manuscript (Hong, 19th century), gives the melodic outline in the equivalent of quarter and half notes.3 The three skeletal versions shown below this (6.1b, 6.1c and 6.1d), transnotated from the cipher notations of various 20th-century collectors,4 reveal greater rhythmic activity—but still, these are not performance realizations. In examining these four versions, note that while there are a number of pitch differences on beats 2 and 4 (of each measure), on beats 1 and 3 there is absolute correspondence from one version

3 The Hong manuscript notation appears in App. A2. 4 Fig. 6.1b is from the notated collection of Zhang Hanzhai (1958); Fig. 6.1c is based upon another collection by Liang Tsai-ping (1977); Fig. 6.1d is from Chen Tianguo (2001, q.v. App. B2). All transnotations from traditional Chinese notations (gongche and cipher systems) are my own. 152 chapter six

Melodic Skeletons

Selected Interpretations

Fig. 6.1 Hanya Xishui, opening phrase of touban section Melodic skeletons and selected interpretations (for ornaments, see Fig. 6.4) to another—a consistent feature in Chaozhou performance variation practice. The issue of beat structure will be addressed below. In performance, ensemble musicians elaborate upon (or vary) the skeletal melody. The process of ‘adding fl owers’ ( jiahua) has been described in earlier chapters. Again, jiahua is a general term used in reference to the addition of melodic interpolations, as if (using another metaphor) putting fl esh on the bones of the melody. Surprisingly little has appeared in recent Chinese scholarship regarding the creative side of this subject, but two early 20th-century publications are noteworthy. The fi rst is Xiange Bidu by the Cantonese scholar-composer Qiu Hechou (1917). This is primarily a collection of notated instrumental and vocal music popular in South China during the early years of the BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 153

20th century. In his preliminary notes (1917: 39ff.), Qiu notates twenty selected short motifs, together with suggested ‘variations’ for use in performance. The fi rst page of these variations is reproduced in Fig. 6.2, together with a transnotation into staff notation. Unfortunately, Qiu suggests only one variation for each motif. Musicians actually play with much greater fl exibility. Another later attempt to document basic performance variations is that of the Cantonese scholar-composer Chen Deju (1957: 6ff.), who outlines a more systematic table of performance options, differentiates among the pentatonic intervals (notating variations for seconds, thirds, etc.), and suggests options with and without the non-pentatonic pitch positions of fa and ti. In Chaozhou practice, there are other variation techniques as well, especially rhythmic variations, which are not thought of as ‘fl owers’. As examined in Chapter Five, the Chaozhou variation types known as cui (‘hastening’) are sectional patterns, essentially rhythmic variations which differ from one section to another (e.g. touban, kaopai, etc.). While cui variations are improvised, they are highly formulaic (based upon the general melodic characteristics of each section) and consequently of greater structural signifi cance than ‘fl owers’—hence their presentation in Chapter Five.

Performance Variation Types

Performance variation is governed by a number of guiding principles, guilü, which I will translate as ‘inner rules’. Some principles are strictly followed. In the Chaozhou and Hakka repertoires, the exact lengths of pieces are identifi ed (by the number of beats in each) and internal beat structures are observed with precision. In the Cantonese repertoire, as in the Minnan, lengths are not identifi ed, but other principles are evident. Since such a large portion of the Cantonese repertoire has been created by known composers, and this repertoire often notated in detail, musicians tend to reproduce these nuances with fewer ‘fl ower’- type variations than practiced elsewhere. As seen in Chapter Four, to the standard sol-la-do-re-mi pentatonic structure, fa and ti are commonly added as neighboring or passing tones. These extra-modal pitches are freely employed by all instrumentalists. But usage of fa and ti in substitution for other pitches is generally reserved for specifi c, commonly-agreed locations in the music. 154 chapter six

Fig. 6.2 Melodic motifs and performance variations Gongche notation from Xiange Bidu (Qiu 1917); contemporary transnotation BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 155

Performance key is another constant. Chaozhou and Hakka ensemble music is normally performed in F, Cantonese ensemble music in C.5 As noted in Chapter Four, all cultures recognize the convention of fanxian (‘reverse string’), in which selected melodies can be transposed to a fourth or fi fth higher (Chaozhou, Hakka) or simply composed a fi fth higher (Cantonese). These factors are also fi xed by tradition. For the ‘inner rules’ of performance variation, only a few authors have attempted to document this subject,6 and their discussions tend to be brief and usually fail to differentiate among variation types. Therefore, I will put forward my own three-part explication based primarily upon observation. Performance variation can be divided into three types: 1) idiomatic variation; 2) interactive variation; and 3) interpretive (or creative) variation. These types are different enough to allow for separate examination. In practice, however, their principles are inter-related to a considerable degree.

Idiomatic Variation The sound ideal in a Chinese chamber ensemble requires heterogeneous distribution of instruments—that is, instruments of mixed timbres together in one ensemble. One instrument per part is the norm. Associated with each instrument type are specifi c idiomatic techniques which distinguish that instrument from the others. Briefl y outlined in Fig. 6.3 are the ensemble roles and performance characteristics of the major instruments. For example, various fi nger articu- lations, trills and fast passage work can be played with ease on fl utes. On stringed instruments, these embellishment types are not utilized, but other distinctive techniques are common, such as portamentos on bowed strings and reiteration of pitches (or tremolos) on plucked and struck strings. When these instruments are performed together, their combined idiomatic techniques form one essential part of the heterophonic texture. Idiomatic realizations of four instrumental parts for the opening phrase of Hanya Xishui are shown in Fig. 6.4. The most characteristic of techniques for the erxian (fi ddle) are the grace notes, legato phras-

5 The zheng in both Chaozhou and Hakka traditions is sometimes tuned to G instead of F. In Cantonese music, C is understood to mean ‘sharp C’ or C plus about 20 cents. 6 Gao Houyong (1981) has led the way, though his examples are drawn mostly from Jiangnan sizhu. For Chaozhou music, see Chen Tianguo’s Chaozhou Xianshi Chuangji (2001: 13ff.), in which performance variations for numerous interval combinations are suggested. 156 chapter six

INSTRUMENT INSTRUMENTS IDIOMATIC TYPES TECHNIQUES

Flutes di and xiao (used occasionally *range: two octaves (transverse, in the string music of *distinctive ﬁ nger techniques vertical) South China) such as yiyin, dayin, dongxiao (essential in nanguan) trills and turns qudi (essential in Jiangnan *rhythmically-dense variants sizhu)

Lead bowed ﬁ ddles erxian (Chaozhou xianshi ) *range: one octave plus touxian (Hakka sixian) *portamento types (huayin) gaohu (Cantonese yinyue) *melodically active erhu ( Jiangnan sizhu)

Supporting ﬁ ddles yehu (Chaozhou, Hakka) *performance of simpliﬁ ed tihu (Hakka) parts in support, often of zhonghu (Cantonese, Jiangnan) melodic skeleton one erxian (Minnan nanguan) octave lower dahu, cello (bass instruments)

Plucked lutes pipa (all cultures) *range: two to three octaves qinqin (Chaozhou, Cantonese) *extended ﬁ nger rolls (lunzou) sanxian (all cultures) *portamento from string push zhongruan (used occasionally) *octave pitch reiterations

Zithers zheng (Chaozhou, Hakka) *range: three octaves plus *portamento types (huayin) *descending glissando (liyin) *melodically active in solo

Dulcimer yangqin (Chaozhou, Hakka, *range: three octaves plus Cantonese, Jiangnan) *tremolo-type rolls *octave pitch reiterations

Percussion paiban types (Minnan, *time-marking techniques Jiangnan) nanbangzi woodblock types (Chaozhou, Hakka, Cantonese) small bells (all cultures)

Note: the sheng mouth-organ, regularly employed as a supporting instrument in Jiangnan sizhu, is not used in the common-practice traditions of South China. Fig. 6.3 Sizhu instrument types and idiomatic techniques BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 157 ing, string inﬂ ections and especially the portamentos of varying types (ascending, descending, returning). For the pipa, melodic realization in this example appears to be more skeletal in nature (with movement in eighth notes), but its idiomatic techniques are also distinctive, including ﬁ nger rolls (short and long), use of harmonics on selected pitches, and occasional note bends (effected by the pushing or pulling of a string laterally across a given fret). Sanxian techniques are generally less complex, but this instrument projects through the texture due to its lower range, banjo-like sound quality, frequent octave reiterations on afterbeats, and thick rhythmic density due to the use of rapid tremolos (pitch reiterations) on notes of both long and short duration. The zheng realization is primarily supportive of the other strings, utilizing octave reiterations and occasional portamentos and pressed vibratos (nearly always on fa).7 So, idiomatic variation emerges from differing performance techniques.

Interactive Variation The second type of heterophonic variation arises from the relationship of instruments to each other and the dynamic of their interaction. In all southern ensembles, roles of melodic leadership and support are considered essential to the texture. In Chaozhou xianshi, for example, the erxian fi ddle is the lead instrument, though the plucked/struck strings pipa and yangqin are often melodically active as well. Supporting the erxian with a more basic melodic line is the yehu or other medium-pitched fi ddle. Supporting the pipa and yangqin are lower-pitched lutes such as qinqin, sanxian and/or zhongruan. In Cantonese music, it is usually the gaohu (fi ddle) and yangqin which perform elaborate variations; other stringed instruments occupy supporting roles.8 All instruments typically perform variations of the skeletal melody which, to be effective, must be performed in interaction with other instruments. At the root of this practice is the principle known as ‘complex-simple’ ( fanjian fa), in reference to the heterophonic division of a melody into simultaneous variations of greater and lesser complexity. In practice, musicians say that the textural ideal should

7 The zheng, of course, is also a solo instrument of major importance and, when played solo, other idiomatic techniques are employed as well (q.v. Fig. 4.1 and discussion in Chapter Four). 8 In Minnan nanguan, the dongxiao (fl ute) and pipa are the lead instruments. While the basic melody is performed on the pipa, the dongxiao player usually adds fl owery ornaments. Supporting this texture with simplifi ed parts are the sanxian and (Minnan- style) erxian. 158 chapter six

Legend of ornaments other than common notational conventions:

= portamento on a single string = note bends or inﬂ ections due to ﬁ nger movement

= strong vibrato ( yaoyin) = tremolo or pitch reiteration = ﬁ nger roll (on pipa, sanxian lutes) = harmonic ( pipa) Fig. 6.4 Hanya Xishui, heterophonic realizations of the opening phrase Transcription of four parts, together with melodic skeleton. Source: Chaozhou Xianshi Chuanji (Chen 2001) BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 159 be ‘complex above, simple below’ (shangfan xiajian), meaning that the higher-pitched instruments dominate with active melodic realizations and the lower-pitched instruments support in more basic ways—often simply sketching the melody. The resultant effect is one of contrast between ‘complex’ and ‘simple’ (or active and passive) forms of the same melody performed simultaneously. This performance practice is quite widespread in China.9 For Chaozhou music, Chen Tianguo sees this dynamic as another manifestation of yin-yang philosophy, in which passive and active melodic realizations are mutually complementary, as the forces of yin and yang are harmonious (1998: 152). An example from the Chaozhou repertoire was already seen in Fig. 6.4, where the erxian and pipa are shown in active roles, while the zheng realization is more passive. ‘Complex above, simple below’, however, is merely an ideal, or a soft ‘inner rule’. In practice, all instruments participate in this type of variation. For example, tradition does not prohibit an especially skilled performer of qinqin or sanxian from playing a more active role, though such increased activity from a low-pitched instrument tends to be limited to short motifs or phrases, and theoretically must be performed in interaction with the lead instruments. The opening phrase of the Cantonese Shuangxing Hen (“Regret of the double stars”), reproduced in Fig. 6.5, shows the heterophonic realizations of three instruments— gaohu, yangqin and qinqin.10 Note the increased rhythmic activity in the qinqin part near the end of the ﬁ rst full measure, and in response to similar activity in the yangqin part two beats earlier. In this process, interactive variations are performed by musicians listening to each other and spontaneously creating complementary melodic variants. Rhythmic motion is divided among instruments as well, the resulting ensemble texture becoming one of nearly continuous movement, occasionally even concealing weaker cadences.11

9 Musicians from the Jiangnan region say “if I [play] simple, then you [play] complex” (wojian nifan) and its reverse, “if I [play] complex, then you [play] simple”. For further information on Jiangnan heterophonic practice, see Witzleben 1995: 89ff. and Thrasher 1993a: 4–20. 10 Shuangxing Hen was introduced in Chapter Four, and a transcription in cipher notation of the entire piece appears in App. B8. 11 For a useful examination of interactive variation techniques in Jiangnan sizhu, see Gao Houyong’s Minzu Qiyue Gailun (1981: 97ff.). In addition to the ‘complex- simple’ principle, Gao discusses several relatively new techniques, notably the ‘broken- unbroken’ principle (where one instrumentalist temporarily interrupts or ‘breaks’ his forward movement with rests while another instrumentalist continues playing the 160 chapter six

Fig. 6.5 Shuangxing Hen, heterophonic realizations of the opening phrase Transcription of three parts, together with melodic skeleton. Source: Guangdong Yinyue Erbai Shou, 2003: 15 (q.v. Chapter Four)

Interpretive Variation It has been mentioned that instrumentalists— Chaozhou and Hakka in particular—attempt to vary performance details each time they play. This type of variation may be identifi ed as ‘interpretive’, or even ‘creative’, because it is more individual in nature and sometimes infl uenced by a performer’s mood. Accepting the principles of idiomatic performance and ensemble interaction, a performer may also invent variant forms of melodic motifs or phrases— again, following certain ‘inner rules’ regarding modal structure, metric structure and proper melodic style. The issue of good melodic style was outlined at the beginning of Chapter Four. To review: performers of lead instruments should create twisting melodic contours. While this is partly effected by adding melodic interpolations (‘fl owers’), performers may also freely substitute other pentatonic pitches for weak (unaccented) notes—though opening motifs tend to remain more stable. The melodic goal is to create a ‘wave’- like, undulating contour that is constantly turning back on itself. Older performers tend to follow the ideal of moderation, assuring that their variations are interesting but not overdone. Moderation is still a valued ideal in traditional expressive culture, and overly-showy performance is

melody) and various ‘alternation’ principles (such as the canonic imitation of phrases and free motivic imitation). These variation techniques are only occasionally heard in the traditions of South China, and then by conservatory-trained musicians and some professionals. BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 161 considered to be in bad taste. The ideal melodic motion is essentially conjunct (major 2nds and minor 3rds within the pentatonic framework). Small intervallic jumps, which are appropriate to the older style, are usually followed by a step back in the opposite direction, though some conservatory-trained performers employ greater imagination in their interpretations.12 These various characteristics can be seen in the several interpretations of Hanya Xishui transcribed in Fig. 6.1. Of the examples shown, the most moderate realization is that of Chen Mayuan (6.1e). Mr. Chen, a resident of Shantou, is a locally-renowned zheng performer and cal- ligrapher. As an older musician in his mid-80s and knowledgeable of conservative values, his interpretation is plain in the extreme—and very close to the melodic skeleton transcribed in 6.1a. Chen’s performance style closely reﬂ ects the values and aesthetics of the ‘amateur ideal’ (examined in the next section of this chapter). Among the other realizations, that of Su Qiaozheng (6.1g) is more animated with melodic interpolations and varied by a shift to the lower octave (measures 3 and 4). Ms. Su, who is the daughter of the famous Chaozhou zheng master Su Wenxian, and an instructor at the Xinghai Conservatory of Music (Guangzhou), performs in a more virtuosic conservatory style, using a 21-string zheng with extended bass range. Moving yet further away from the older ideals is the realization of Li Wei (6.1h). Mr. Li, a young conservatory-trained Chaozhou musician, performs in a still more imaginative and dramatic style, employing occasional jagged contours, heavier vibratos (measure 2), and greater movement throughout. While Chen Mayuan is a highly respected musician in the old school, Su Qiaozheng and Li Wei think of themselves as concert artists and, as such, they have moved away from the old ideals.13 Note again, however, that the main thrust of creativity occurs over beats 2 and 4 (and selected afterbeats), the ur-pitches on beats 1 and 3 remaining unchanged throughout.

12 Some of these stylistic ideals are examined by Gao Houyong (1981: 223, 231) and Chen Tianguo (1985: 42). 13 The above excerpts have been transcribed from the following recordings: Chen Mayuan, from a double CD entitled “Chao Zheng Guyun”, released in 2003 by Shantou Haiyang Recording Company (ISRC CN-F17–03–335–00/A.J6); Su Qiaozheng, from Volume 7 of The Anthology of Chinese Traditional and Folk Music, “Chaozhou Yinyue: Xiyue”, issued by the China Record Company, 1993 (ISRC CN-F13–93–376–00/A.J6); Li Wei, from the 1993 CD “Guzheng Shi Damingqu”, released by Guangdong Record Company (ISRC CN-F18–93–320–00/A.J6). 162 chapter six

There is another side to interpretive variation, one deriving from emotive and other associations made by performers in the realization of ‘musical spirit’ (quyi ). Such associations and their impact on interpretation are more pronounced in some regions (Cantonese, Jiangnan) than in others (Chaozhou, Hakka). This aspect of interpretation will be examined in the following section on values and aesthetics. The Chinese system of heterophony, therefore, is the result of not one but several types of variation. These types function together as an organic whole to form the traditional sound-ideal. The essential element in performance, and one that gives Chinese chamber music its richness and vibrancy, is the spontaneity with which such decisions are made. Good performers, playing without notation but with a thorough understanding of local performance principles, improvise these variations. Thus, every performance is different in detail.

What effect has formal musical training had upon performance? In the traditional setting, the decision to create variations and interact with other musicians is made impromptu and during actual performance. There are still a number of traditionally-trained musicians who perform in this way, some active in the local music clubs, others as instructors in the music conservatories. Another larger group of younger, conservatory-trained musicians emerged during the late 20th century. These musicians learned by imitating the variations of their conservatory instructors. As well, some variations by famous performers became well known—especially if legitimated by appearing on recordings or in published transcription—and these also became widely imitated. Many younger musicians have been satisﬁ ed with being able to perform the variations of others and have stopped at this point (Chen 2004). A smaller number have moved through this imitative stage into that of creation. The Chaozhou musician Wang Peiyu, in explaining his own development, states that at the beginning of his career he also imitated the variations of his teacher. Then, after learning the older traditional system and becoming established as a performer, he began to create his own variations. Other creative performers have succeeded in bridging this gap as well, though my impression is that this number is relatively small. A major difﬁ culty, of course, is in shifting from the visual orientation of following the transcriptions of others to the aural orientation of changing performance details and creating variations. For those who have made the change and for the traditionally-trained, variation is the life-blood of the music and one of the primary deter- minants of good performance style. BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 163

Values and Aesthetics: the Rujia Ideal

Because of well-established differences in class values and the functional varieties of music, the Chinese value system contains different and seemingly oppositional ideals. In some areas, the common people have embraced the core values of Confucian scholars (rujia); in other areas they have resisted these values. Important aesthetic differences exist among the various music genres as well, as between open-air ceremonial types and refi ned chamber types of the teahouse and clubroom. When referring to the refi ned qualities of traditions such as the small chamber music types, especially Chaozhou xiyue, Hakka qingyue and Minnan nanguan, local musicians say this is ‘music of the (Confucian) literati’ (ruyue). To what qualities does this term refer? In response to my questions about the specifi c nature of ruyue, I received a variety of answers: that the tempo must be slow; the tonal system, pentatonic; the expression, elegant; the purpose, for self entertainment and cultivation (but not for fi nancial gain); the function, to encourage upright behavior, higher thought and social harmony.14 In these admissions of Confucian identifi cation, it became clear to me that musicians individually had only a limited understanding of the historic Confucian literature and the role of the literati in dissemination of this ideology. But this was understandable since Confucianism has undergone numerous, and not always consistent, interpretations since the historic revivals of the Han, Song and late-20th century. My informants were explaining Confucianism in action as they understood it. That social harmony (xiehe) would be identifi ed is signifi cant. The Chinese term xiehe15 (‘harmonious’) suggests a sense of concordance or social agreement—a major Confucian goal. Could there actually be a musical manifestation of ‘social harmony’? Musicians say as much. In the southern cultures, the instrumental traditions are primarily ensemble traditions, rarely performed by fewer than three musicians, normally with between fi ve and eight. During my interviews, I found that performers of ensemble instruments often felt ill at ease when asked to demonstrate a section of music without other musicians playing as well, and some performers would not attempt it. The notable exception

14 Musicians and scholars interviewed about the qualities of ruyue include Chen Tianguo (Guangzhou), Wang Peiyu (Shantou), Li Deying and Cai Shengtong (Chaozhou City) and Rao Baoyou (Dapu). 15 Xiehe is pronounced as ‘sye-heh’; wg: hsieh-ho. 164 chapter six is found in the solo zheng tradition which, however, is often played together with other instruments and shares an identical repertoire with the chamber traditions. As described above, ensemble texture requires interaction among musicians, not unlike a conversation at a social gathering.16 While musicians may not know the old Confucian sayings “music unites” ( yuetong) and “music harmonizes the people’s voices” (yuehe minsheng), they understand the deeper sense of these concepts because ‘harmonious’ interaction is an admitted cultural value of ongoing importance (Chen Tianguo, 2004).

The Amateur Ideal The literati, and those who have aspired to their esteemed positions, historically drew heavily upon Confucian values for the basis of their aesthetic system, though these values were often blended with the creative ideals of Daoism. To apply a phrase used by Joseph Levenson (1957: 341), the artistic motivation of the literati is best thought of as the ‘amateur ideal’. As used here, ‘amateur’ should be understood in the sense of the European ‘Renaissance man’, the educated person with wide-ranging interests who participates in the ﬁ ne arts during leisure time for self-cultivation. Within this context, ‘amateur ideal’ does not imply lack of training or low quality in performance, for the Chinese literati were often highly skilled in the arts. To the literatus-amateur, the reasons for writing poetry, painting a landscape, writing calligraphy or performing music were simultaneously those of self-entertainment and expression of cultural values. Self-cultivation and the acquisition of virtue were mentioned in the ancient classic texts and they subsequently became important motivational forces. While there certainly was specialization in the traditional arts and professional activity in the theater and some musical arts, the bias against professionalism was nevertheless strong. Professionalism (i.e., the acceptance of money for performance) was seen as a motivation associated with merchants, entertainers and the ethically untutored. As a result, it did not become an ideal in the literati traditions. Among the traditionally-trained, this view still prevails. Older Hokkien musicians (Chaozhou and Minnan) have told me that the acceptance of money for performance of their chamber musics (especially xiyue and

16 A fair cultural analogy might be found in Chinese food preparation and presentation, where meals are normally served in portions suitable for a family or group of friends, rather than for lone diners. BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 165 nanguan) would violate the spirit of these traditions (Chen Kuan-hua, 1978). Likewise, Hakka musicians say that when they perform in the ruyue style, musicians play for themselves, not for money (Rao 2006).

Quyi Music in the literati tradition was, and is, expected to reinforce the social conditions from which it grew, and also promote the social harmony needed to maintain order. Instrumental pieces were traditionally given associative titles that connected them with the famous old legends (e.g., Xixiang Ci, “Poem of the west chamber”), harmonious social relationships (e.g., Wannian Huan, “Many years of happiness”), the beauties of the natural world (e.g., Chushui Lian, “Emerging lotus blossoms”) and the qualities of mythic animals (e.g., Bainiao Chaofeng, “One hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix”). Such cultural imagery has occupied a central position in the aesthetic system of the Chinese arts for centuries.17 More than simply random or impressionistic titles, these images are often believed to be refl ected in the music itself, and in some cultures (notably Jiangnan and Cantonese) they guide the affective nature of performers’ interpretations. In common-practice music, the term quyi (‘spirit of the song’) is most frequently used in identifi cation of these affective states.18 Within this associative system, each piece of music is thought to have a ‘spirit’, a referent which is identifi ed in the title. Examples in the southern repertoires abound. In the moderate-tempo Hakka piece “Balmy breeze melody” (Xunfeng Qu), musicians use the meanings of ‘balmy’ (or ‘com- fortable’ using another translation) and ‘breeze’ as a general guide to their performance style. To most musicians, these words of association suggest a relaxed state and a gently-fl owing, ‘breeze’-like melodic line.19 In contrast, for the “Lament of Zhao Jun” (Zhaojun Yuan), which is in the minor-sounding ‘crying mode’, tempo is slow and the mood

17 For further backgrounds, see Han Kuo-huang’s “The Chinese Concept of Program Music”, Asian Music, X/1 (1978): 17–38. 18 The term quyi is roughly equivalent to yijing (‘mood’) in the qin tradition, and to neirong (‘content’) in Cantonese music, though important semiotic differences are present in the meaning of ‘content’ (as explained in the text). Quyi is pronounced as ‘chü-yi’; wg: ch’ü-i. 19 According to the memories of local musicians, Xunfeng Qu is a recent name given by Ouyang Yuqian to Da Baban, which is also known as Xidiao (“Melody from the [Chinese] west”, q.v. App. A1). In renaming this melody, it is apparent that Ouyang wished to better relate this famous tune with ancient cultural imagery, choosing the ‘balmy breeze’ metaphor to refl ect upon the glories of the Tang dynasty ( Ju 1995: 190). 166 chapter six grievous, requiring legato bowing and heavy portamento on bowed string instruments.20 “Welcoming guests” (Ying Binke), on the other hand, is a bright piece and most appropriately performed with exuberance and animation. Other beliefs about music and meaning are found in South China as well. Some Cantonese music scholars (Huang Jinpei 1984, Li Yan 1983) identify this associative quality as ‘content’ (neirong), as if ‘content’ were actually (and affectively) embodied in the music itself. The Canton- ese sense of a sign-like relationship between music and meaning, like that of the Jiangnan region, is unusually strong. For example, “Rain beating on the banana leaves” (Yuda Bajiao) is thought to be musically suggestive of a heavy rainfall hitting banana leaves, the style utilizing sharp dynamic contrasts and pointed staccato effects. According to one essentially programmatic interpretation, the strong leaves bend under the oppressive rain but do not break or fall, as the workers of a country must respond to an oppessive regime (Huang 1984). While an interpretation such as this refl ects political sentiment, it is indicative of the type and specifi city of musical meanings assigned by the Cantonese within recent years.21 In Chaozhou music, this type of semiotic relationship is weaker, almost certainly because a large portion of their repertoire is performed in more than one modal form and in tempo-based variations—thereby confusing such associations between structure and affect. Yet, some Chaozhou musicians have attempted to demonstrate associative interpretations for pieces customarily performed in single established modes, such as the well-known Hanya Xishui (q.v. Chen Anhua 1989: 21). So, while semiotic responses differ in detail among the southern cultures, the presence of ‘spirit’-identifying titles tends to encourage interpretations which are similar from one social setting to another. Individual interpretations by performers, on the other hand, are based upon a more private symbolic system—a system in which melodic associations are assigned by individuals and their specifi c details changed with each performance. In this respect, the associations between mood

20 The title of Zhaojun Yuan (“Lament of Zhao Jun”) refers to the Han dynasty princess Zhao Jun, who was forcibly married into the northern Xiongnu tribe. According to the old story, she felt extremely sorrowful at having to depart from her people. 21 Such programmatic interpretations resemble (in miniature) the narratives in orchestral tone poems of 19th-century Europe, from which they may well have been inﬂ uenced. BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 167 and music are so individual (and so complex) that speciﬁ c, consistent correspondences are virtually impossible to identify.

Guya As seen in Chapter Five, the ancient text Yueji (“Record of Music”) states that “too many (ritual) forms will result in ‘chaos’, too much (musical) invention will result in ‘violence’.” In fact, there has been musical change and innovation over the past several thousand years, but China has traditionally opposed change in principle and idealized the ancient ways. In a society where stability was more highly valued than change (and age valued over youth), it is not surprising that old music has held a special position among the conservative cultures. In both legend and literature, Chinese heroes are older persons of Confucian training who personify social harmony and stability. In painting and music, the term guya, ‘ancient and refi ned’, is regularly used to identify those works refl ecting a high degree of continuity with the past. This continuity is found especially among the Hakka and Minnan traditions, where the venerable old melodies are still considered the best and where musical instruments have changed the least.22 The Baban variants are obvious examples of guya repertoire, as are pieces based upon the old legends, such as the “Lament of Zhao Jun”. I have also heard Chaozhou musicians use this term in reference to the best qualities in their music, together with other related terms suggesting ‘refi nement’ and ‘sophistication’ ( ya, yazheng). As seen in Chapter Two, the term ya derives from a cluster of ancient concepts meaning ‘refi ned’ or ‘elegant’, as found in the Confucian concept of a ‘refi ned music’ ( yayue).23 In contemporary aesthetic usage, however, ya merely idealizes these values, without specifi cally referring to the ancient traditions.

Hanxu In keeping with the behavioral expectations of ‘moderation’ (zhongyong), traditionally-trained musicians value restraint in both expression and performance technique. The term hanxu,24 literally ‘covered and controlled’, is used in reference to this restraint. By extension, hanxu also implies that deep and profound meanings are concealed under an

22 Hakka musicians sometimes use the variant term gaoya (‘high quality and refi ned’) in reference to this aesthetic. 23 It will be remembered from Chapter Two that Ken DeWoskin suggested there to be other musical defi nitions for ya as well, notably “adhering to the pentatonic scale” (1983: 202). 24 Hanxu is pronounced as ‘han-syu’; wg: han-hsü. 168 chapter six ordinary surface, or that internal richness is ‘covered’ by external plain- ness (Chang 1978). In traditional landscape painting, for example, there is a preference for monochrome and muted colors (over bright colors), often merely the suggestion of a subject, and the subtle concealment of good brush technique. In traditional music performance, the emotive qualities of melodies are underplayed, embellishment minimized and the demonstration of technical dexterity carefully ‘controlled’. Musicians in the conservative regions of South China clearly recognize hanxu as a performance ideal, the Chaozhou and Hakka in their zheng and xiyue/ qingyue traditions, the Minnan in nanguan music.25 Sometimes this quality is expressed in other ways. When southern musicians wish to compli- ment the ability of others, they are likely to say he/she has good ‘style’ ( fengge) or ‘refi ned taste’ ( yunwei ), rather than good ‘technique’ ( jichao). There is no question that these chamber repertoires require virtuosic techniques in faster sections (and sometimes throughout entire pieces), but the challenge is one of ‘control’. Disdain for gratuitous virtuosity, at any rate, runs like a thread through the patterns of behavior and artistic belief of those professing values of the rujia.

Ziran The inclination toward spontaneity in Chinese artistic expression may be seen as the natural complement of the above Confucian ideals. As introduced in Chapter Two, ziran (wg: tzu-jan) may be translated as ‘natural’, ‘spontaneous’ or ‘intuitively from the self ’, an ideal which embodies Daoist rejection of artiﬁ cial forms and processes. To review, the most interesting creative results are achieved through the application of ‘natural’ means, by intuition rather than by methodical planning. Wenrenhua artists attempted to capture the essence of a subject, rather than its photographic likeness. Painted subjects, such as ‘bamboo and rock’, were organized in a ‘natural’ or ‘intuitive’ form (rather than a pre-planned, thus artiﬁ cial, form). In qin zither music, the ideal of ziran is clearly manifest in the performance of irregular phrase lengths, irregular repetitions, spontaneous (but stylistically restricted) improvisations, and reliance upon memory (with its ‘natural’ lapses). While the relationship between qin performance and Daoist ideology is well documented,26 I was surprised to hear zheng performers and other southern musicians

25 Huang Jinpei (1986) has observed that in the buoyant Cantonese tradition, the quality of hanxu is absent. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that this aesthetic is not as prominent as in the neighboring traditions. 26 See Gulik 1940: 47ff. and DeWoskin 1983: 192. BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 169 referring to ziran. Chaozhou informants told me that in both the zheng tradition and xiyue, ‘spontaneity’ is an essential factor in tempo decisions, overall feeling and embellishment.27 Daoism itself, however, was rarely mentioned in these discussions, suggesting that the concept of ziran has become accepted on its own and as part of the local aesthetic.

Qingkuai Gao Houyong (1981: 23ff., 80) was one of the fi rst to explain the signifi cance of a very different ideal, one which gives expression to a more colorful art style and a more robust and lively music. Gao observed that many sizhu melodies are set at a fast tempo (kuaiban). Following traditional practice, these should be performed in a ‘lively’ or ‘brisk’ style, without being heavy or overbearing. This aesthetic is identifi ed as qingkuai (‘lively’, ‘joyful’).28 The qingkuai aesthetic is one of the notable characteristics of the open-air chuida-types of ritual music, where it must be centuries old. But I have also heard Chaozhou musicians use this term in explanation of the qualities of fast variations in suites (e.g., cui variations in sanban sections) (Wang 2006). In the southern chamber traditions, it is especially characteristic of Cantonese music. When Cantonese composers became active during the early 20th century, they tended to favor this brighter aesthetic. In explaining the admirable qualities of lively Cantonese pieces, Huang Jinpei (1986) uses the similar terms huankuai (‘happy and fast’) and re’nao (‘bustling’), further explaining that such pieces refl ect the pace of city life. Many short Cantonese pieces ‘bustle’, the best example probably being “Thunder in the drought” (Hantian Lei, Fig. 5.8), with its fast tempo, animated and regularized rhythmic movement, and urban feel.

How widespread are these aesthetic ideals? The values of guya, hanxu and ziran are much in evidence in the more conservative traditions (Chaozhou, Hakka, Minnan). They are found occasionally in Jiangnan sizhu which, generally speaking, is less rigid in its value system and more exuberant in its sound-ideal. In the upbeat, predominantly 20th-century Cantonese tradition, however, guya and hanxu are rarely found, the Cantonese preference being for a brighter sound, livelier tempo and, for slower lyrical pieces, a heavier emotive affect. Thus, the relationship

27 My informants (Chen Mayuan and Wang Peiyu 2006) did not mention phrase irregularity as a manifestation of ziran. I believe, at any rate, that in the Chaozhou and Hakka repertoires there are other reasons for phrase irregularity (q.v. Chapter Four). 28 Qingkuai is pronounced as ‘ching-kuai’. 170 chapter six among value systems in the southern instrumental traditions is one of both similarity and difference, depending largely upon regional identi- ﬁ cation with the time-honored Confucian heritage—strongest among the Hakka, weakest among the Cantonese. What is striking, however, is that in both the Chaozhou and Hakka traditions these seemingly contradictory aesthetic ideals—‘reﬁ ned’ and ‘restrained’ vs. ‘bright’ and ‘joyful’—exist side-by-side, as if representative of the extremes of human experience, much as the forces of yin and yang are representative of cosmic opposites.

Ideologies and Styles

How can this mix of cultural and philosophical infl uences be seen in perspective? Among the conservative cultures of South China, a strong Confucian foundation underlies their sizhu types of chamber music. This is most evident in the behavioral associations that local musicians make between their music and the values of the rujia, notably in ideals such as ‘concordance’ (xiehe) and ‘control’ (hanxu). That musicians actually identify their refi ned small ensemble genres as ‘Confucian music’ (ruyue) is an open admission of this foundation—at least to the perception of such a foundation. Although identifi cation with Confucian ideology is weaker among the Cantonese, traces can be found in the titles of some older pieces and in the social networking associated with ensemble organization. In this book I have attempted to demonstrate that the southern musical forms and styles have been infused with ideals associated with Confucian culture, such as the numerological ordering of repertoire, of phrases in a work of importance, ensemble size, pentatonicism, and yin-yang ideology. While it may be true that such ideals are sometimes used as mere rationalizations in attempt to legitimate traditions which have not been accepted into the more mainstream Chinese musical philosophy of today, I believe that, taken as a whole, a foundational layer of Confucian infl uence on southern musical styles is apparent. The musical traditions of South China, however, have not been cut from a single piece of silk. Among the ancient philosophies which have also infl uenced the development of the arts, Daoism has exercised a powerful—if often hidden—force. While musicians rarely admit of Daoist infl uence as such, most will agree that the ideal of ‘spontaneity’ (ziran) is essential to good performance style, as manifest in performance BIANZOU : performance practice and aesthetics 171 choices such as embellishment decisions, addition of ‘fl owers’, ordering of variations and so forth. Finally, it is clear that other very different infl uences have fl owed into the southern traditions over the recent centuries. For example, it is generally supposed that the ‘crying mode’ was introduced from qinqiang opera of northwestern China. As employed in the Chaozhou, Hakka and Cantonese repertoires, heavy emotional states, laden with tragedy and grief, are represented in this mode. Such types of romantic expression lie well outside the beliefs of both Confucianism and Daoism. Another example of a seemingly oppositional emotive state can be heard in the aesthetic of ‘liveliness’ ( qingkuai ), examined above. A central sound ideal in the northern ceremonial traditions, the quality of ‘liveliness’ may well have been introduced into the southern sizhu traditions. But I suspect it was always there, again as the yang of yin. Thus, the cultural forces underlying these related southern traditions must be seen as a synthesis of ideas, some very ancient, others more recent. Most lie beneath the melodic surface (that is, in structural elements) and below the level of day-to-day musical discourse—in that musicians rarely discuss cultural traits or infl uences from outside their region. Yet, the Confucian legacy, in its multiple interpretations, is now being acknowledged by many local scholars as the principal philosophical underpinning of their tradition. Whether Confucius would have recognized his own legacy is probably beside the point.

POSTSCRIPT

Following the years of invasion, rebellion and corruption during the late 19th century, traditional Chinese society and government were increasingly criticized by its citizens for being too literary and not practical enough to cope with changing global problems. In his book, Literature and the Arts in Twentieth-Century China, A.C. Scott offers a sensitive overview of these developments. In Scott’s words, China experienced a “disas- trous confl ict with the aggressive industrialized powers” and a “failure of [its] ultra-conservative administration to grasp the signifi cance of a changing world . . .” (1965: 2). At the turn of the 20th century, Chinese leaders and writers stated that if China were to relate to the rest of the world on an equal basis, it must start adopting western ways. Profound social changes in its major institutions altered the very foundations of Chinese civilization. The traditional classics-based method of education and the rigorous examination system had been abandoned. The Republic was established in 1912. The Literary Revolution of 1919 severely challenged the old classical written Chinese and replaced it with a new, more creative idiom that would be more accessible to the common people. Within the new social hierarchy, the position of the scholar-offi cial had deteriorated at a rate equal to the rise in social position of the merchant and, following the change in governmental systems, the scholar no longer had a political role. Urban centers became industrialized, creating a large new class of factory workers. The roles of merchants, businessmen and entertainers grew steadily stronger in response to the demands of these industrialized urban dwellers, greatly swelling the ranks of the middle class. In most cultural affairs, older systems were seriously challenged by the introduction of western forms and aesthetics. For music, Chao Mei-pa explained what must have been widely believed at the time: As we glance over history, we fi nd Chinese music has come to a stand- still, in spite of its fl ourishing past. This long static condition of our [traditional] musical activities has naturally forced us to turn to a new source, the West. (1937: 271) 174 postscript

When music conservatories were established, beginning in the late 1920s, it was western music which dominated the curriculum.1 Composers began attaching their names to their works, the ﬁ rst time in history composers of instrumental music would attempt to identify themselves. Harmonic accompaniment was often added—a type of ‘harmony’ far removed from the Confucian social ideal. The traditional aesthetic system, much of which was infused with Confucian philosophy, was largely abandoned, most notably in Cantonese music but in other new repertoires as well.

The Urban-Professional Ideal By mid-20th century, professionalism in the arts had become broadly accepted. Following upon developments in Shanghai, the fi rst state-organized professional music ensemble established in South China was the Guangzhou Minjian Yinyue Tuan, founded in Guangzhou (1956). Salaries of its members were paid by the Chinese government. One year later, the Guangzhou Conservatory of Music was established, at which both Chinese and western musics were taught.2 Students attended the Conservatory to improve their musical skills, their main goal being to become professional musicians and perform in the state ensembles or as soloists in the new concert halls. Enrollment was drawn primarily from Cantonese areas, with other students coming from nearby Chaozhou and Hakka communities (Huang 1996).3 During this same period (mid-1950s), a government-organized movement to redesign the construction of traditional instruments for the concert stage was instigated. Every Chinese instrument was studied with a view to ‘improving’ tone production, increasing volume and enlarging performance range. Most stringed instruments, formerly strung with silk strings, were henceforth strung with metal strings, frets were increased in number and repositioned to yield half-step intervals and resonating chambers were enlarged. On fl utes, fi ngerholes were repositioned to correspond with the new temperament ideal. Some instruments were

1 The Shanghai Conservatory of Music was established in 1927. Soon after this, a professional ensemble was formed at the Central Broadcasting Station in Nanjing (1935), re-established in Beijing (1953) (q.v. Han 1979: 14ff.) 2 During the 1990s, this conservatory was renamed the Xinghai Conservatory of Music, after the famous Cantonese composer Xian Xinghai. 3 There was some interest at the Conservatory in attracting Minnan music students as well, but southern Fujian was more distant from Guangzhou than was the Chaozhou region, and nanguan music was thought by the Cantonese to be too dissimilar from the southern mainstream (Huang 1986). postscript 175 also built in families of soprano, alto, tenor and bass, resulting in the emergence of the erhu family, among others.4 As a result of these changes, conservatory musicians began arrang- ing and orchestrating selected pieces from the traditional repertoire, increasing their lengths for concert hall purposes, varying tempos and dynamics for greater emotional impact, and adding harmony and bass lines for middle- and low-range instruments. For some pieces, introductory passages were added.5 The addition of harmony to traditional pieces presented a special challenge in that the older melodies themselves were not harmonically conceived. As well, the basic tonic and dominant chords sounded discordant when performed in the old temperament system with its three-quarter-step intervals. Indeed, many students, having learned the ideal of Western equal temperament, had already lost their sensitivity to the subtleties of the ‘crying mode’. As a result, instrumental pieces such as Shuangxing Hen (Fig. 4.10 and App. B8) and Zhaojun Yuan were played less frequently by conservatory- trained performers—and when played, only on re-fretted instruments (as described at the end of Chapter Four). Today, conservatory-trained professional musicians thrive in the southern cities. They perform traditional music with a level of skill exceeding that of the literati and, some say, contrary to the Confucian ideal of ‘restraint’. Quite obviously, this tension between performance moderation and virtuosity has yet to be resolved. In the urban-professional aesthetic, virtuosity is valued, lively and rhythmically-active repertoire preferred, and ‘crying mode’ repertoire highly romanticized. When traditional music is presented to western audiences, it is nearly always performed by conservatory-trained musicians in this manner.

Survival of Traditional Music The new style receives considerable criticism from older performers, who are not trained in western temperament and do not like the strictness and formality of orchestrated arrangements. They complain that, in such arrangements, the opportunity

4 Most important among the erhu-type instruments are the gaohu, erhu, zhonghu and dahu; other southern fi ddle types such as erxian (Chaozhou, Minnan) pre-date the erhu family. The ancient ruan lute with circular sound chamber, which was not used in instrumental ensembles for a century or two before this time, was resurrected from museum storerooms and rebuilt in a range family as well. 5 Traditional repertoire now commonly performed in orchestrated versions include a number of standard pieces, such as the Cantonese Yuda Bajiao and Chaozhou Da Baban. 176 postscript for spontaneous creativity and inspiration is taken out of performance. Yet, in spite of the many new directions emerging from the conservatories and professional ensembles, the older instrumental traditions on the southeast coast are surviving reasonably well. Chaozhou music is in a surprisingly healthy state—surprising because it is regularly criticized by neighboring cultures for its lack of populist appeal, and it is marginalized within China as a whole. Most vocal in their criticisms of Chaozhou music are the Cantonese, who complain about the great length of their suite forms and of the nasal quality of the erxian lead fi ddle. But Chaozhou music survives well, and for a number of reasons. The Chaozhou maintain a strong cultural center on the southeast coast, with many towns and farming villages surrounding Shantou and Chaozhou city. In most of these areas, amateur music clubs and family ensembles are active. Because of their isolation from more northern Chinese regions, and from the cultural hostility of the Cantonese, the Chaozhou have developed a positive sense of cultural identifi cation based upon language preservation, awareness of history, food preparation, and maintenance of local crafts and traditional music. They have also developed local schools, most importantly, the Shantou Arts School (Shantou Yishu Xueyuan) and a periodical, Chaoyue Yanjiu, in which the local musical traditions are documented. Some institutes receive fi nancial support from wealthy Chaozhou businessmen in Hong Kong, Bangkok and elsewhere. A similar range of circumstances obtains for Minnan music, another large but isolated tradition with strong regional support in the form of schools, periodicals and performance opportunities. But Minnan nanguan music, because it is derived from a different historic Chinese tradition, is hardly known among the other southern cultures. This is generally considered a music apart.6 The Hakka instrumental music scene is smaller and centered in the single mountain community of Dapu, though with related traditions in nearby Hakka villages of western Fujian province. Elegant and expressively subtle, Hakka music is admired by Chaozhou musicians, with whom there has been a history of interaction.7 Like the Chao-

6 Chaozhou musicians with whom I have worked told me they think of Minnan music as being truly ‘classical’, but nevertheless boring. 7 Some of this interaction has been documented by Chen Anhua (1982: 57–60). As I have shown here and in other publications (Thrasher 1988: 1–30), Hakka music has been absorbed into both Chaozhou and Cantonese traditions. For example, Yidian Jin (App. B5) and other qupai tunes are now played by Chaozhou musicians in transpositional postscript 177 zhou, the Hakka possess a positive sense of cultural awareness based upon preservation of language, knowledge of history and genealogy, and promotion of Confucian values. In Dapu, there is a small music association, the Guangdong Hakka Research Association (Guangdong Hanyue Yanjiu Hui), which occasionally performs concerts and sup- ports research in the local journal, Hanyue Yanjiu (in publication since 1990). Without a music school for the younger generation, however, the future of this elegant tradition is uncertain.8 Cantonese instrumental music is a relatively new tradition, having developed as recently as the late 19th century, with both Hakka and Jiangnan infl uence. The repertoire is well unifi ed from one Cantonese region to another because of widely available recordings and published collections of music. Scholars at the Xinghai Conservatory of Music in Guangzhou have been extraordinarily active since the late 1970s documenting historical, theoretical and aesthetic issues in the conservatory’s journal, Xinghai Yinyue Xueyuan Xuebao, among other publications. But since the instrumental repertoire itself is mostly a mix of short, light tunes and longer pieces of a heavy sentimental nature, scholars make few pretensions to classicism.9 In social terms, Cantonese generational differences are deep, with the most minimal of cultural interaction between old and young. Within a young population raised on (Cantonese) pop music, western classical music and Chinese concert-hall music, promotion of ‘traditional’ music has proven diffi cult. Instrumental music, at any rate, is not often heard in the vocal-oriented music clubs and, according to some opinions, it is a dying tradition. While unclear at present what the social basis for its survival might be, most of the better-known pieces are being accepted into the eclectic Cantonese opera repertoire and into the larger pan-Chinese concert-hall repertoire, though here usually in fully orchestrated forms. This acceptance represents a different level of survival and higher level of syncretism.

variations (similar to Hakka practice), and the Hakka ‘soft mode’ variant of Da Baban (Fig. 5.3) can be seen as the model for the Cantonese piece Ema Yaoling (App. B9). 8 I have recently learned that the local government has started a program to engage traditionally-trained Dapu musicians to teach instrumental music in the public schools. At present, the effectiveness of this program is not known. 9 For reasons of its newness and ﬂ amboyance, Cantonese music has often been criticized as being shallow—to use Moser’s (1985) phrase: “lacking in proper artistic restraint”. Such criticisms have regularly come from neighboring Hakka musicians (such as Luo Jiuxiang, d. 1978), the northern literati, and sometimes even from the educated Cantonese themselves (Huang 1996).

APPENDICES

Appendix A Gongche Notation System and Selected Repertoire

Gongche notation consists of simple Chinese characters, each representing a pitch position, together with basic metric signs. As seen in the repertoire examples, it is read from top to bottom, starting at the upper right-hand column. Several southern versions have appeared, of which the a) Jiangnan and b) Cantonese variants are most relevant in this study.

He Si Yi Shang Che Gong Fan Liu Wu a) b) [mi fa] sol la ti do re mi fa sol la ti [do re] lower octave basic range higher octave

Range is indicated by way of attached signs: Upper octave (beyond wu/la) with ‘ ’ to the left of the pitch sign (e.g. ); Cantonese practice with ‘ ’ Lower octave (below he/sol) with ‘ ’ attached to the lower right (e.g. ); Cantonese practice with ‘ ’ Note: Range signs are not always given, especially in Chaozhou and Hakka notations, in which case the proper octave must be inferred by context.

Meter is usually single (1/4), duple (2/4) or quadruple (4/4): Strong beats are commonly indicated with ‘X’ to the right of the pitch sign ( Jiangnan, Cantonese), though with ‘O’ in some cultures (Chaozhou, Hakka). Weak beats are indicated either with ‘O’ ( Jiangnan) or with ‘\’ (Cantonese), though secondary beats are not always shown (Chaozhou, Hakka).

Rhythm is typically learned through performance experience: Beat subdivisions are almost always duple in some form (e.g. two eighth notes per beat, one eighth followed by two sixteenths, etc.), but exact rhythms are not shown. Rhythmic extensions of half a beat are shown by the insertion of ‘L’-shaped signs or small triangular signs (∆), as seen in the examples. If these signs are followed by another pitch sign before the next marked beat (usually ‘X’), then a dotted quarter note followed by an eighth note can be inferred. In some quickly-written notations, a rhythmic extension of one beat may simply be indicated by the appearance of the next beat (strong or weak) without any other pitch signs in between; or it may be shown by the appearance of a larger-than-usual gap in the notation column. 180 appendices

Appendix A1 Hakka Xixiang Ci and Xidiao

Xixiang Ci (left), short qupai in melodic skeleton, performed in a four-beat meter (4/4); strong beats identiﬁ ed with circles (O), subdivisions not shown (q.v. Chapter Four).

Xidiao (right), also known as Xunfeng Qu, the Hakka equivalent of 68-beat Baban in melodic skeleton, notated in a ‘medium beat’ meter (1/4); strong beats shown with circles (O) (q.v. Chapter Five). Note the use of the pitch sign (士) for la. Source: Guoyue Diaopu (Chen 1930). appendices 181

Appendix A2 Chaozhou Hanya Xishui

Touban section in melodic skeleton, 68 beats; four-beat meter, strong beats identiﬁ ed with circles (O), the sign ‘L’ indicating rhythmic extensions (in all cases extending a pitch over the next strong beat, thus concealing it); other metric subdivisions not indicated (q.v. Chapter Five). Source: “Chaozhou Xianshi” manuscript (Hong, late Qing). 182 appendices

Appendix A3 Hakka-Chaozhou Chushui Lian

Touban section in melodic skeleton, 68 beats, ‘soft mode’ (identiﬁ ed as a ‘soft suite’). Normally performed in a slow four-beat meter (4/4); strong beats identiﬁ ed with circles (O); subdivisions not shown, but rhythmic extensions are indicated by a gap in the notational signs. This 19th-century notation is unusual in its different representation of some motifs, presence of the pitch position la in the low register (possibly played as ti as in present-day practice), and existence of notational errors which have been lined out by a later musician and re-notated (far-left and middle columns) (q.v. Chapter Four). Source: “Chaozhou Xianshi” manuscript (Hong, late Qing). appendices 183

Appendix A4 Cantonese Da Baban

Abbreviated version of Baban bearing some resemblance to the Jiangnan Liuban. Four-beat meter, strong beats shown with ‘X’, beats two, three and four with ‘\’, and rhythmic extensions with ‘L’ (q.v. Chapters Four and Five). Note the Cantonese use of the pitch sign (士) for la. Source: Xiange Bidu (Qiu 1917). 184 appendices

Appendix A5 Jiangnan Hua Liuban

60-beat moderate-tempo Jiangnan version of Liuban. The term hua (literally ‘ﬂ ower’) here means ‘embellished’, hence the two-beat meter with melodic interpolations. Strong beats are identiﬁ ed with ‘X’, weak beats with ‘O’, rhythmic extensions with a triangle (∆), metric subdivisions not shown (q.v. Chapter Five). Source: Qudiao Gongche Daguan (Zhang 1920). appendices 185

Appendix B Cipher Notation System and Selected Repertoire

The Chinese cipher system ( jianpu) is similar to movable-do solfège, in that the diatonic octave is represented by numbers 1 through 7, equivalent to do through ti. . . . Cipher: 5. 6. 7. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 1 2 3 etc. Solfège sol la ti do re mi fa sol la ti do re mi etc. basic range higher octave Key of F: C D E F G A Bb c d e f g a etc. Key of C: G A B c d e f g a b c' d' e' etc.

Range is indicated by the use of dots above or below the numbers:

Below for low range 6. Without for mid range 6 . Above for upper range 6

Rhythms are notated in a similar manner as western notation: Numbers appearing alone 5 3 5 1 = quarter notes Number followed by a dash 6 – = half note Number followed by three dashes 2 – – – = whole note Numbers with single underline 3 5 2 3 1 = eighth notes Numbers with double underline 6 5 3 5 1 = sixteenth notes Numbers followed by a dot 3. 2 3 5 = dotted eighth—sixteenth or 3. 2 3 5 = dotted quarter—eighth Zero (0) indicates rests 0 = one-beat rest 0 – = two-beat rest 0 6 = eighth rest—eighth note

186 appendices

Appendix B1 Chaozhou Da Baban

Melodic skeleton of three-part variation suite form: touban (ﬁ rst page), kaopai and sanban (second page). ‘Light 3–6’ mode, 68 beats (q.v. Chapter Five). Source: Chaozhou Minjian Yinyue Xuan (Zhang 1958). appendices 187

App. B1 Da Baban second page continuation 188 appendices

Appendix B2 Chaozhou Hanya Xishui

Melodic skeleton of three-part variation suite form: touban (ﬁ rst page), kaoda (kaopai ) and sanban (second page). ‘Heavy 3–6’ mode, 68 beats (q.v. Chapters Five and Six). Source: Chaozhou Xianshi Chuanji (Chen 2001). appendices 189

App. B2 Hanya Xishui second page continuation 190 appendices

Appendix B3 Chaozhou Hanya Xishui

Erxian realization by Chen Tianguo (2001). Suite form in four variations: touban (ﬁ rst page), erban double cui (second page), kaopai (bottom second page), and sanban double cui (third page). ‘Heavy 3–6’ mode, 68 beats (q.v. Chapter Six). appendices 191

App. B3 Hanya Xishui second page continuation 192 appendices

App. B3 Hanya Xishui third page continuation appendices 193

Appendix B4 Hakka Chushui Lian

Zheng realization by Luo Jiuxiang (1985). Shown above the cipher signs are ﬁ ngering patterns, portamento types (arrows), and vibrato types (occasionally on 4 and 7). ‘Soft mode’, 68 beats (q.v. Chapter Four). Source: Hanyue Zhengqu Sishi Shou (Luo 1985). 194 appendices

App. B4 Chushui Lian second page continuation appendices 195

Appendix B5 Hakka Yidian Jin

Melodic skeleton of old 28-beat qupai melody, followed by four pentatonic transpositions, all performed at the same tempo (q.v. Chapter Five). Source: Guangdong Hanyue Sanbai Shou (Luo 1982). 196 appendices

App. B5 Yidian Jin second page continuation appendices 197

Appendix B6 Cantonese Pinghu Qiuyue

Melodic skeleton of 1931 composition by Lü Wencheng. Source: Guangdong Yinyue Erbai Shou (2003). 198 appendices

Appendix B7 Cantonese Pinghu Qiuyue

Gaohu realization by Gan Shangshi (1982) of Lü Wencheng’s composition (1931). Shown above the cipher signs are ﬁ ngering patterns and embellishments, bowing signs and portamento types (indicated with arrows). appendices 199

Appendix B8 Cantonese Shuangxing Hen

Melodic skeleton of this two-section guqu (‘old piece’): moderate-tempo ﬁ rst section, followed by fast-tempo coda. Yifan mode with modal shifts (q.v. Chapter Four). Source: Guangdong Yinyue (1963). 200 appendices

Appendix B9 Cantonese Ema Yaoling

Melodic skeleton of this guqu piece, a pipa adaptation of the 68-beat Hakka ‘soft mode’ Baban, reportedly by the composer He Liutang (c1920s). Yifan mode. Source: Guangdong Yinyue (1963). GLOSSARY OF CHINESE TECHNICAL TERMS AND REPERTOIRE

Anjing 安靜 Daojia 道家 Daqu 大曲 Baban 八板 Datao 大套 Bafang 八方 Dayue Biyi 大樂必易 Bagua 八卦 De 德 Bainiao Chaofeng 百鳥朝鳳 Di 笛 Baisha xiyue 白沙細樂 Di 滌 Ban 板 Diao 調 Bangzi 梆子 Diaoshi 調式 Banhu 板胡 Diaoxing bianzou 調性變奏 Banshi bianzou 板式變奏 Die 疊 Bantouqu 板頭曲 Dik/de 得 Ban-yan 板眼 Dizi 笛子 Bayin 八音 Dongxiao 洞簫 Beilu 北路 Biangong 變宮 Ema Yaoling 餓馬搖鈴 Bianyin 變音 Erban 二板 Bianzhi 變徵 Erhu 二胡 Bianzou 變奏 Erhuang 二簧 Bianzou ti 變奏體 Ersipu 二四譜 Bili 篳篥 Erxian 二弦

Chanyuan Zhongsheng Fangman jiahua 放慢加花禪院鐘聲 Fangxiang 方響 Chaozhou 潮州 Fanjian fa 繁簡法 Chi 篪 Fanxian 反線 Chiba 尺八 Fengge 風格 Chuandiao 串調 Chuida 吹打 Gaohu 高胡 Chunjie 春節 Gaoshang yinyue 高尚音樂 Chushui Lian 出水蓮 Gaoya 高雅 Ci 詞 Gewu 歌舞 Citang 祠堂 Gok/jiao 角 Cui 催 Gong 宮 Cuipai 催拍 Gongche 工尺 Gongdiao 宮調 Da Baban 大八板 Gongting yinyue 宮廷音樂 Daban 大板 Guangdong Hanyue 廣東漢樂 Dadiao 大調 Guanzi 管子 Da Kaimen 大開門 Guchui 鼓吹 Da Luogu 大鑼鼓 Gudian 古典 Dandian Tou 單點頭 Gudiao 古調 Dan-xie-man-yi 嘽諧慢易 Guganyin 骨幹音 Dao 道 Guilü 規律 Dao Baban 倒八板 Guochang qu 過場曲 Dao Chunlei 到春雷 Guomen 過門 202 glossary of chinese technical terms and repertoire

Guoyue 國樂 Liyin 歷音 Guqu 古曲 Li-yue 禮樂 Guya 古雅 Lu 魯 Luancha Hua 亂插花 Hakka 客家 Luogu 鑼鼓 Han 漢 Luoguchui 鑼鼓吹 Hantian Lei 旱天雷 Lülü 律呂 Hanxu 含蓄 Hanya Xishui 寒鴉戲水 Manban 慢板 He 和 Man Liuban 慢六板 He-che 合尺 Mawei huqin 馬尾胡琴 Hengdi 橫笛 Meihua Cao 梅花操 Hexiansuo 和絃索 Mengjiang Nü 孟姜女 Hokkien 福建 Miandaxu 綿搭絮 Houguan 喉管 Minge 民歌 Huadiao 花調 Minjian yinyue 民間音樂 Hua Liuban 花六板 Minnan 閩南 Huandiao 歡調 Moli Hua 茉莉花 Huangli Ci 黃鸝詞 Huangzhong 黃鐘 Nanguan 南管 Huankuai 歡快 Nanlu 南路 Huayin 花音 Nanyin 南音 Huqin 胡琴 Nanyue 南樂 Huyue 胡樂 Neirong 內容

Jiahua 加花 Pai 拍 Jiangnan 江南 Paiban 拍板 Jianpu 簡譜 Paixiao 排簫 Jiaoti diaoshi 交替調式 Paizi 牌子 Jichao 技巧 Pianyin 偏音 Jie 節 Pinghu Qiuyue 平湖秋月 Jiezi 借字 Pingsha Luoyan 平沙落雁 Jinshang Tianhua 錦上添花 Pipa 琵琶 Jinshe Kuangwu 金蛇狂舞 Pipa Ci 琵琶詞 Jue 角 Po 破 Pu 譜 Kaopai 拷拍 Kejia 客家 Qi-cheng-zhuan-he 起承轉合 Konghou 箜篌 Qifandiao 七反調 Kuaiban 快板 Qin 琴 Kudiao 哭調 Qingkuai 輕快 Kuhuang Tian 哭皇天 Qingsanliu 輕三六 Kunqu 崑曲 Qingshang Yue 清商樂 Qingyue 清樂 Li 禮 Qingzou Pu 清奏譜 Lianqu ti 連曲體 Qinqiang 秦腔 Liuban 六板 Qinqin 秦琴 Liuli 六禮 Qinzheng 秦箏 Liuqing Niang 柳青娘 Qipingjun lü 七平均律 Liuxing diao 流行調 Qishou Ban 起手板 Liuyao Jin 柳搖金 Qiyue 器樂 Liuye Jin 柳葉金 Qu 曲 Liuyi 六藝 Qudi 曲笛 glossary of chinese technical terms and repertoire 203

Qupai 曲牌 Wenren yinyue 文人音樂 Quyi 曲意 Wu 武 Quzhe 曲折 Wuchang 五常 Wujing 五經 Ren 仁 Wulun 五倫 Re’nao 熱鬧 Wusheng 五聲 Ruan 阮 Wuxian 五弦 Ruandiao 軟調 Wuxing 五行 Rujia 儒家 Wuyin 五音 Runshi bianzou 潤飾變奏 Ruyue 儒樂 Xian 弦 Xianghe ge 相和歌 Sanban 三板 Xianguan 絃管 Sanban 散板 Xianshi yue 弦詩樂 Sancai 三才 Xiansuo 弦索 Sanjilang 三級浪 Xianyue 弦樂 Santan 三彈 Xiao 簫 Sanxian 三弦 Xiao Baban 小八板 Sanxu 散序 Xiaodiao 小調 Se 瑟 Xiaoqu 小曲 Shang 商 Xiao Taohong 小桃紅 Shan’ge 山歌 Xiao Taohua 小桃花 Shangfan xiajian 上繁下簡 Xidiao 西調 Shang-liu 上六 Xiehe 諧和 Sheng 笙 Xijiang Yue 西江月 Sheng 聲 Xing 形 Shengyin 聲音 Xipi 西皮 Shibuji 十部伎 Xiqin 奚琴 Shicui 實催 Xiqu 戲曲 Shifan luogu 十番鑼鼓 Xixiang Ci 西廂詞 Shimian Maifu 十面埋伏 Xiyue 細樂 Shouban 手板 Xuanlü bianzou 旋律變奏 Shuangcui 雙催 Xucui 虛催 Shuangdie cui 雙疊催 Xunfeng Qu 薰風曲 Shuangxing Hen 雙星恨 Xunhuan ti 循環體 Sichun 思春 Si-gong 四工 Ya 雅 Sixian 絲弦 Yangchun Guqu 陽春古曲 Sizhu 絲竹 Yangqin 揚琴 Suona 嗩吶 Yanyue 燕樂 Suyue 俗樂 Yaogu 腰鼓 Yaosheng 搖聲 Taoqu 套曲 Yaozhi 搖指 Tihu 提胡 Yashan Ai 崖山哀 Tiqin 提琴 Yayue 雅樂 Tongbo 銅鈸 Yazheng 雅正 Touban 頭板 Yehu 椰胡 Touxian 頭弦 Yi 意 Yidian Jin 一點金 Waijiang yinyue 外江音樂 Yifan xian 乙凡線 Wannian Huan 萬年歡 Yijing 意境 Wen 文 Yin 音 Wenrenhua 文人畫 Yin’gao 音高 204 glossary of chinese technical terms and repertoire

Ying Binke 迎賓客 Zhaojun Yuan 昭君怨 Yingdiao 硬調 Zheng 箏 Yinjie 音階 Zheng 鄭 Yinse 音色 Zhengsheng 鄭聲 Yin-yang 陰陽 Zhengxian 正弦 Yinyue 音樂 Zhi 指 Yu 羽 Zhi 徵 Yuda Bajiao 雨打芭蕉 Zhidiao 徵調 Yue 樂 Zhisheng ti 支聲體 Yue’er Gao 月兒高 Zhongban 中板 Yuefu 樂府 Zhonghua Liuban 中花六板 Yuehe minsheng 樂和民聲 Zhongruan 中阮 Yueju 粵劇 Zhongsanliu 重三六 Yuelun 樂論 Zhongxu 中序 Yuelü 樂律 Zhongyong 中庸 Yueqin 月琴 Zhongyuan 中原 Yuetong 樂同 Zhuandiao 轉調 Yule Shengping 娛樂昇平 Zhudiao 主調 Yulian Huan 玉連環 Ziran 自然 Yunluo 雲鑼 Zizhu xiao 紫竹簫 Yunwei 韻味 Zongjiao yinyue 宗教音樂 BIBLIOGRAPHY

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INDEX

‘Adding fl owers’( jiahua), see Buddhist infl uence, 36, 47–8, 58, 61, 63, Embellishment, Performance variation 68, 95, 117 Aesthetics, 163–70; amateur ideal, 23, ‘Bustling’ (re’nao), see Aesthetics 164–65; ‘elegance’ (ya), 40–1; ‘musical spirit’ (quyi ), 51, 162, Cantometrics, see Lomax 165–67; ‘old and refi ned’ (guya), 28, Cantonese, 5, 18–21, 43; settlement and 124, 167, 169; ‘covered and culture, 18–19; dating of, 19–20, 73; controlled’ (hanxu), 167–68, 169–70; melody types and repertoire, 19–20, ‘content’ (neirong), 166; ‘liveliness’ 91, 93, 113–17, 130, 132–33, 135, (qingkuai ), 169, 171; ‘bustling’ (re’nao), 136, 146, 166, 183, 197–200; 1, 169; see also Confucian ideology, performance of, 24, 95, 153, 156, Ruyue, Daoist infl uence, Ziran, and 157, 159–60, 166, 169–70; modes, Conservatory infl uence 87, 96–8, 99–105, 106–08, 109–11; ‘Alternating modes’, see Mode instruments, 19, 20, 21, 63, 71, 98, Amateur ideal, see Aesthetics 111; relationship with Hakka, ix, Anthology of Chinese Folk Music, 4n4 19–20, 176n7, 177n9; survival of, 24, 176, 177 Baban (“Eight Beat”), x, 11, 13, 20, 21, Central Plain (region), 6–7, 10, 14 32, 33, 71, 89, 90–1, 113–14, 115, Chao Mei-pa, 173 117–24, 129, 141, 143–44, 146, 167; Chaozhou, 5, 7–11, 42–4; settlement history and distribution, 13, 117; and culture, 7; dating of, 9–11, 70–2; structure and relation to Liuban, 32, repertoire, 8, 91, 113–23, 125–35, 76–8, 100n40, 115, 117–24, 126–27, 139–42, 166, 181, 186–92; xianshi 131–35, 141; Da Baban, 8, 78, 122, music, 5, 8–9, 157; xiyue music, 8–9, 131, 165n19, 176n7, 183, 186–87; 10, 11, 14, 17, 51, 70, 72, 163, 169; Dao Baban, 130; Jinshang Tianhua, 131; suite forms, 71, 137, 138–43; Xiao Baban, 89, 91, 93; Xidiao/Xunfeng performance of, 22–4, 32, 95, 112n59, Qu, 16, 90, 100n40, 132n33, 165, 180 151–55, 156, 157–59, 160–62, 164, Bagua (trigram system), 33, 118 166–70; modes, 88, 99–105, 106–08, Ban (‘beat’), 90–4, 120, 130; see also 111–12, 128; relationship with Baban and Notation Minnan, 14, 21, 176n6; relationship Banshi (metric system), see Notation with Hakka, ix, 11, 18, 20–1, 176n7; Bantouqu music, 6, 11, 18 survival of, 22–3, 174, 176 Bangzi, see Melody types Chen Anhua, 18, 70, 138, 142n47, 166 Bayin (instruments), 33, 54n2, 58 Chen Deju, 19, 153 ‘Beat-form variation’, see Variation Chen Tianguo, 10, 44, 70, 95, 109, 138, forms 159, 164 Beijing opera infl uence, 87, 88n24, 96, Chen Wei, 14, 70, 72, 106–07 115 Chen Yang (Yueshu), 2, 65–6, 136–37 Bianyin (‘altered tones’), 86, 109; see also Chen Yingshi, 90, 107 Pitch systems Cheung Sai-bung, 40, 124–25 Bianzou, see Variation forms and Chiba (fl ute), see Xiao Performance variation Chuida music, 4–5, 43, 57, 58, 169 Bili (reed-pipe), 62–3, 64, 70, 89n26 Chushui Lian, 16, 72, 101, 104, 109, 127, Bodde, Derk, 27, 30 141, 144, 146, 165, 182, 193–94 ‘Borrowed notes’ ( jiezi ), see Performance Citang (ancestral temples), 35–6, 42–3 variation ‘Classical music’, 5–6 214 index

‘Complex-simple’ principle, see DeWoskin, Kenneth, xii, xvii, 37, 40–1, Performance variation 46n37, 48 Composition, traditional, see Diao, 95, 96n33, 105; see also Mode Variation forms Dizi (fl ute), 8, 58–60, 64–5, 70 ‘Concordance’, see Xiehe Dongxiao (fl ute), see Xiao Confucian infl uence, 25–44, 51, 56, 75, Dunhuang cave murals, see Silk Road 76, 79, 112, 113, 163–65, 170–71; infl uences emergence of, 25–7; Xun Zi, Du Yaxiong, xiii, 37, 43–4, 82n15, infl uence of, 26, 28–9, 37, 38; 84n19, 87, 90, 95, 117 governance, 27–9, 35–6, 37–44; ideology and values, ix, x, xii–xiii, Eight, see Number symbology, Bagua, 15–16, 25, 28–30, 41–4, 57, 163–65, Baban, and Bayin 167–68; dissemination of values, ‘Elegant music’, see Chaozhou xiyue 35–7, 42; neo-Confucianism, 26–7, Ema Yaoling, 132n34, 176n7, 200 65; music theory, ix, xii, xiii–xiv, ‘Embellished variation’, see Variation 37–44; opposition to, 45–7, 171, forms 173–74, 175; survival of, 36–7, 42–4, Embellishment, 158; ‘adding fl owers’, 112, 147, 163–64, 170–71, 175; see 82–3, 131, 152; ‘shaken sounds’, 51, also Ruyue, Xiehe, and Zhongyong 82–3, 103, 107; zheng embellishment, Conservatory infl uence, 111, 161–62, 82–3 174–75, 177; urban-professional ideal, Erban (‘second section’), 139–43, see also 164–65, 174–75 Chaozhou suite forms ‘Content’ (neirong), see Aesthetics Erhu (fi ddle types), 20n32, 67, 175n4 Cook, Scott, xii, xvii, 28, 38n19, 46, Erhuang, see Melody types 49n42 Erxian (Chaozhou fi ddle), 8–10, 139, ‘Covered and controlled’ (hanxu), see 155–57, 159 Aesthetics Erxian (Minnan fi ddle), 12, 67–8 ‘Crossing-the-stage tunes’, see Qupai Erxian (Cantonese fi ddle), 96–8 ‘Crying mode’ (kudiao), see Mode Ethos, see Confucian ideology Cui (‘hastening’), 137–38, 139, 142–43, 153; see also Daqu and Chaozhou Fanxian, see Mode suite forms Five, see Number symbology Cultural imagery, associations with, ‘Folk music’, 3, 5–6, 39n22 165–67 Functionalist approach, xi–xiii Cultural Revolution, 3–4, 36–7, Fung Yu-lan, xvii, 29, 30, 35, 45, 49 46n35 Gao Houyong, 60n15, 76, 105, 114n3, Da Baban, see Baban 155n6, 159n11, 169 Daban (‘large beat’), see Ban Gaohu (Cantonese fi ddle), 20, 67, 157, 159 Dadiao (‘great melodies’), see Hakka Gongche notation, see Notation repertoire Gongdiao (do mode), 87–8, 97–8, 105 Da luogu music, 8, 16n26, 43 Guanzi (reed-pipe), see Bili Dan-xie-man-yi, 40; see also Confucian Guchui music, 4, 58 music theory Gudiao (‘old tunes’), see Cantonese Daoist infl uence, 25, 30, 47–51, 79–80, melody types 112, 164, 168–69, 170–71; see also Guochang qu (‘crossing-the-stage tunes’), Ziran see Qupai Daqu (‘grand song’ form), 10, 64–5, Guya (‘old and refi ned’), see Aesthetics 136–38, 142, 145; cuipai (‘hastened beat’), 137–38; po (‘break away’), Hakka, 5, 14–18, 43–4, 60, 76; 136–38; sanxu (prelude), 136–37; settlement and culture, 14–15; dating ‘false’ and ‘real’ hastening, 137 of, 14–15, 17–18, 70–2; repertoire, Datao (‘great suites’), see Chaozhou 15, 16–18, 90, 91, 113–23, 125–35, repertoire 144, 165, 180, 182, 193–96; sixian index 215

music, 16–17, 20; qingyue music, 17, 118–23, 132, 159n9, 159n11, 169, 44, 72,163; suite forms, 138, 143–45, 184 146; performance of, 23–4, 95, Jianpu (‘simple notation’), see Notation 153–55, 156, 165, 166–70; modes, 32, Jiezi (‘borrowed notes’), see Performance 80–3, 87n23, 88, 97, 99–105, 106–08, variation 111–12, 127; instruments, 16–17, 57; Jinshang Tianhua, see Baban relationship with Chaozhou, ix, 11, ‘Joyful mode’ (huandiao), see Mode 14, 18, 20–1, 176n7; survival of, 23, 174, 176–77; see also xiansuo Kaiyuan Temple instruments, 68–9 Han Chinese, 1 Kaopai (‘whipped beat’), 139–43; see also Han dynasty ensembles, 57–61 Chaozhou suite foms Hantian Lei, 20, 132–33, 146, 169 Kaufman, Walter, xii, 38n19 Hanya Xishui, 8, 72, 79, 128, 134–35, Key, 94–5, 96n32, 99n38, 105, 155; see 139–42, 151–52, 155–58, 161, 166, also Pitch systems 181, 188–89, 190–92 Kudiao (‘crying mode’), see Mode Hanxu (‘covered and controlled’), see Kunqu (opera), 5, 6, 19, 59n12, 88–9 Aesthetics Harmonization of opposites, 29–30 Lao Zi, see Daoist infl uence He (‘harmony’), 40; see also Confucian Li (‘ritual’, ‘propriety’), 28–9; see also music theory and Xiehe Liyue Heterophony, see Performance variation Liyue (‘ritual and music’), 30, 39, 41–4, Hokkien (region), 1, 7, 164 45–6; see also Confucian governance, Huadiao, see Huandiao ideology, and music theory Hua Liuban, see Liuban Liuban (“Six Beat”), 33, 118–23, 132, Huandiao (‘joyful mode’), see Mode 184; and Japanese danmono, 123; see Huang Jinpei, xvii–xviii, 1, 19, 96, 103, also Baban 132, 166, 168n25, 169 Liuqing Niang, 8, 20, 89, 91–2, 115–16, Huangli Ci, 126–28 134– 35, 144 Huangzhong (‘yellow bell’), see Pitch ‘Liveliness’ (qingkuai ), see Aesthetics systems Li Yan, 102, 106 Huayin (‘fl ower tones’), see Lülü (chromatic pitches), see Pitch Embellishment systems Huowu (‘active 5’), see Chaozhou modes Lunyu (“Analects”), 25–6, 28n4, 46–7 Huqin (fi ddle), 66–8, 70–1; see also Luogu music, 4 specifi c instrument names Lomax, Alan, xi–xii

Idiomatic variation, see Performance Map, 3 variation Melodic skeleton (guganyin), see Indian infl uence, see Buddhist infl uence Performance variation Instrumental ensemble types, 4–6 Melody, 49–51, 75–83, 160; motivic Instruments, 53n1, 58–60, 62–73, 108; angularity, 76–7, 121, 160; phrase and techniques, 156; redesign of, irregularity, 51n44, 78–80, 115, 122; 111–12, 174–75; see also Sizhu early see also Embellishment and Qupai history, Bayin, and specifi c names Melody types, erhuang, 96, 100; xipi, Interactive variation, see Performance 87, 97; bangzi, 97; see also Qupai and variation Xiaodiao Interpretive variation, see Performance Meter, see Notation variation Ming cross infl uence, 68–73 Minnan, 5, 11–14, 21, 24, 44, 60, 176; Jiahua (‘adding fl owers’), see settlement and culture, 11–12; dating Embellishment and Performance of, 11, 13–14, 14n22, 68–70; variation repertoire, 12, 88n24, 91, 114n1, 130, Jiangnan (region), 6–7, 119 137–38, 145–46; nanguan (xianguan), ix, Jiangnan sizhu, 44, 71–3, 92, 95, 5, 12, 14, 34, 44, 68–70, 91, 96, 163, 216 index

164, 167–69; instruments, 12–13, 32, ‘complex-simple’ principle, 157–59; 56, 66–7, 96n32; relationship with idiomatic variation, 155–57; Chaozhou, ix, 11, 14, 176n6 interactive variation, 157–60; Mode, 80–112, 96n33, 113; wusheng interpretive variation, 160–62, forms, 83–8, 95–6, 100, 105, 112, 165–67 129; association with regions, 87, ‘Phrase variation’, see Variation forms 88n24, 97; Cantonese ‘string’ forms, Pinghu Qiuyue, 20, 78, 81, 197, 198 96–8; ‘crying mode’/‘joyful mode’ Pipa (lute), 6, 8–10, 12, 17, 19, 20, forms, 72, 75, 97, 99–105, 107–10, 58–9, 60, 62, 64–8, 70–3, 111, 117, 128, 141, 171; fanxian, 97, 99–100, 142n47, 157, 159 101, 103–05, 108, 111, 128–30; Pitch systems, ‘yellow bell’ pitch, 56, qifandiao (‘seven reverse mode’), 129; 83n17, 94–5, 112; lülü chromatic ‘alternating modes’, 109–11, 141; pitches, 31, 34, 83n17; wusheng pitch linear elements of, 108–11, positions, 38, 83–8, 109; 126–30; see also Variation forms, pentatonicism, 41, 80–1, 83–4, 95, Temperament, Cantonese modes, 151; pitch adjustments, 108n56; Chaozhou modes and Hakka modes ‘altered tones’ (bianyin), 81, 86 ‘Modal variation’, see Variation forms Professionalism, see Conservatory Moderation, see Zhongyong infl uence Mo Zi, on ritual music, 45–6 Pu (‘notation’), see Minnan repertoire Music and ritual, see Liyue and Confucian governance Qi-cheng-zhuan-he (form), 123–24 Music categories, 2–6 Qin (zither), 4, 5, 6, 11, 48, 51, 53, 57, Music clubs, see Sizhu music 64, 168 Music cultures of South China, ix, xii, Qingkuai (‘liveliness’), see Aesthetics 1, 6–21 Qingsanliu (‘light 3–6’ mode), see Music theory, see Confucian infl uence Chaozhou modes ‘Musical spirit’ (quyi ), see Aesthetics Qingshang music, x, 14, 17, 53, 59, 60–1, 63–4 Nakaseko, Kazu, xvii, 31, 75, 83 Qingyue (‘virtuous music’), see Hakka Nanguan music, see Minnan Qinqiang opera modes, 99, 171; see also Neirong (‘content’), see Aesthetics Mode Neo-Confucianism, see Confucian Qinqin (lute), 8–10, 58n9, 96, 99–103, infl uence 107–08, 157, 159 Notation, xv, 88–94, 150, 162; wusheng Qiu Hechou, 20, 72, 96–8, 114n1, system, 85–8; gongche system, 88–94, 152–54 117, 151, 179–84; banshi metric Qupai (‘named song’), 68, 70, 100, 104, system, 90–4, 130–31, 179; jianpu 114–17, 125, 128–31, 134, 138, cipher system, 88, 185–200; 143–46, 150–51; ‘crossing-the-stage Number symbology, 30–5; auspicious tunes’, 19, 20, 72, 115–16; as cantus numbers, 31–4, 31n9, 33n10; fi rmus, 125 signifi cance of, 34–5, 44, 54n2, 56, Quyi (‘musical spirit’), see Aesthetics 83–4, 114n2, 117–23, 137, 170 Recordings, xi, 76n2, 139n44, 145n51, ‘Old and refi ned’ (guya), see Aesthetics 146n54, 161n13 Orthography, xvi ‘Refi ned music’, see Yayue Re’nao (‘bustling’), see Aesthetics Pai, see Ban Restraint, 167–68, 169–70 Paiban (clapper), 68–70, 90 Ritual, see Li Performance variation (bianzou), 49–51, Ruan (lute), 58n9, 111, 157, 175n4 149–62; melodic skeleton, 151–52; Ruandiao (‘soft mode’), see Hakka heterophony, 150–62; ‘adding fl owers’ modes ( jiahua), 82–3, 131, 152; ‘borrowed Ruyue (‘Confucian music’), xiv, 10–11, notes’ ( jiezi ), 81, 86, 109, 110, 127; 17, 149, 163, 170 index 217

Sanban (‘third section’), 139–43, see also temperament ideal, 111–12, Chaozhou suite forms 174–75 Sanban (‘random beat’), 91, 145 Tempo, 91, 94, 130–32, 138–43, 144, Sanxian (lute), 6, 8–10, 12, 67–8, 70–1, 146, 169 142n47, 157, 159 Teochiu, see Chaozhou Schafer, Edward, 63, 64n22 Tihu (fi ddle), 8–10 Scott, A.C., 173 Tiqin (fi ddle), 19, 96 ‘Shaken sounds’ ( yaosheng), see Touban (‘fi rst section’), 139–43; see also Embellishment Chaozhou suite forms Shen Yunsheng, 96–8 Touxian (fi ddle), 16 Sheng (mouth-organ), 54, 57, 60, 64–5, Transposition (zhuandiao), 86, 103–04, 70 105, 128–30, 144–45 Sheng (‘sound’), 38–9 Trigram system, see Bagua Shibuji, see Tang ensembles Twentieth century, see Conservatory Shifan luogu music, 71, 73 infl uence Shuangxing Hen, 81, 109–10, 146, 159–60, 175, 199 Variation forms (bianzou), 70, 124–36; Sichun, 72–3 variation ideal, 124–25, 136; ‘Silk-bamboo’, see Sizhu music ‘embellished variation’, 125–26; Silk Road infl uences, 61–3 ‘modal variation’, 126–30; ‘beat-form Sixian (‘silk string’) music, see Hakka variation’, 13, 130–32; ‘phrase Sizhu music, ix, 1–2, 4–6, 64–73, variation’, 132–36; see also Suite 113–23; early history, 2, 53–73; social forms and Performance variation perspectives, 21–24; educational approaches to, 162; Wen-wu (‘civil-martial’), 30, 31, 75 performance of, 22, 23–4, 43, 94; see Wright, Arthur, xvii, 27 also Performance variation, Variation Wusheng (modal system), see Pitch forms, Suite forms, and individual systems, Mode, and Notation cultures Social harmony, see Xiehe and Confucian Xian (‘string’), 96–8; see also Mode ideology Xi’an city and region, 9–10, 14n22 Social perspectives, see Sizhu music Xianghe ge (‘harmonious song’), 53, ‘Spontaneity’, see Ziran 59–60 ‘String-poem’ music (xianshi ), see Xianguan, see Minnan Chaozhou Xianshi (‘string-poem’ music), see Suite forms (taoqu), 71, 94, 136–46; Chaozhou Chaozhou ‘beat-form’ suite, 32, 94, Xiansuo (‘string’ music), 4, 6, 8, 11, 34, 137, 138–43; Hakka suite forms, 138, 70–2, 117 143–45; ‘modal variation’ suites, Xiao (fl ute), 12, 54, 55–6, 59, 62, 65, 68, 144–45; chain form suites, 12, 70, 102, 107 145–46; Cantonese hybrid forms, Xiao Baban, see Baban 146; see also Daqu Xiaodiao (‘short tunes’), 20, 116 Suona (shawm), 43, 115, 119 Xiaoqu (‘short tunes’), see Cantonese melody types Tang people (tangren), 1, 9 Xidiao, see Baban Tang dynasty ensembles, 61–5 Xiehe (‘concordance’), 28, 40, 163–64, Taoqu, see Suite forms 170; see also Confucian ideology Temperament, xv, 101, 102, 105–08, Xinghai Conservatory of Music, see 111–12; ‘seven-equal-tone’, 105–06; Conservatory infl uence 24–step theory, 102, 106; ‘cents’ Xipi, see Melody types system, 102, 106n52; ‘neutral thirds’, Xiqin (fi ddle), see Huqin 102, 106, 127; shifting aural Xixiang Ci, 16, 76–8, 80–3, 86, 100, 165, perceptions of, 107–08; pitch 180 adjustments, 108n56; new equal Xiyue (‘elegant music’), see Chaozhou 218 index

Xunfeng Qu, see Baban Yue (musical ethos), 38–9; see also Xun Zi, see Confucian infl uence Confucian music theory and Liyue Yueji (“Record of Music”), 25, 26, 37, Ya (‘elegance’), 40–1, 167; see also 38– 41, 79, 124, 167 Confucian music theory Yungang cave reliefs, see Silk Road Yangqin (dulcimer), 8–10, 71, 96–8, infl uences 106–08, 111, 157, 159 Yang Yinliu, xvii, 63–4, 94–5, 120, Zhaojun Yuan, 20, 103, 127, 128, 135, 122 144, 146, 165, 166n20, 167, 175 Yanyue (‘banquet music’), 2, 58, 61, Zheng (zither), 6, 8–11, 12–13, 17, 18, 63–4, 34, 54, 56–7, 62, 64, 66, 70–1, 82–3, Yaogu (drum), see Silk Road infl uences 100–03, 117, 123n19, 139, 155n5, Yaosheng (‘shaken sounds’), see 157, 159, 161, 164, 168–69 Embellishment Zheng state, music of, 2, 46–7 Yayue (‘refi ned music’), 2, 14, 39, 40, 58, Zhengxian (‘proper string’), see Cantonese 61, 84n19, 167; see also Confucian modes music theory Zhidiao (sol mode), 87, 89, 96–8, 100, 105 Yehu (fi ddle), 8, 17, 67, 157 Zhongsanliu (‘heavy 3–6’), see Chaozhou Yidian Jin, 129–30, 145, 176n7, 195–96 modes Yifanxian (‘ti-fa string’), see Cantonese Zhongyong (‘moderation’), 29, 39–40, modes 160–61, 167; see also Confucian Yin (‘tones’), 38–9 ideology Yingdiao (‘hard mode’), see Hakka Zhuang Zi, 47–51, 79–80; translation of, modes 49n42, 50n43; see also Daoist Yin-yang ideology, xiv, 26, 30–3, 51, 75, infl uence and Ziran 159, 170–71 Ziran (‘spontaneity’), 48–51, 112, Yi-xing (‘spirit-form’), 49, 51 168–69, 170–71; in phrase Yuan Jingfang, 1n2, 70, 105, 125 irregularity, 49–51, 79–80, 168; in Yuda Bajiao, 20, 166 brush painting, 49–50, 168; see also Yudiao (la mode), 87, 97–8 Daoist infl uence