Department of Musicology Faculty of Music
International Journal of Music
Belgrade, I/2018 ISSN 0354-818X = New Sound UDC 78:781(05) COBISS.SR-ID 102800647
International Journal of Music
Belgrade, I/2018
Publisher: Department of Musicology Faculty of Music Kralja Milana 50, 11000 Belgrade
Editorial Board: Mirjana Veselinović-Hofman Ph.D. (Editor-in-chief) Vesna Mikić Ph.D. (Deputy editor-in-chief) Academician Dejan Despić Sonja Marinković Ph.D. Ana Kotevska M.A. Miloš Zatkalik M.A. Marcel Cobussen Ph.D. (The Netherlands) Pierre Albert Castanet Ph.D. (France) Chris Walton Ph.D. (South Africa/Switzerland) Eduardo R. Miranda Ph.D. (Brazil/UK) Nico Schüler Ph.D. (Germany/USA)
Cover design: Jovana Ćika Novaković
Secretary of the Editorial Board: Ivana Miladinović Prica
Editorial Board and Office: Faculty of Music Kralja Milana 50, 11000 Belgrade E-mail: [email protected] www.newsound.org.rs
The Journal is published semestrally. The Journal is classified in ERIH – European Reference Index for the Humanities CONTENTS
CONVERSATIONS Jelena Novak Music That Knows Where It’s Going. Conversation with Tom Johnson ...... 1
STUDIES Nice Fracile The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed by Serbian Prisoners of War (1915–1918) ...... 17 Ivana Vesić, Vesna Peno The Structural Transformation of the Sphere of Musical Amateurism in Socialist Yugoslavia: A Case Study of the Beogradski Madrigalisti Choir .... 43 Bogumila Mika Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue ...... 64
INTERPRETATIONS Geraldine Finn Panic at the Proms (perhaps the explanation lies in his background) ...... 83
TRIBUTE TO PROF. DR. ROKSANDA PEJOVIĆ Ivana Perković Narrative Monologue and (Internal) Dialogue: In Memory of Roksanda Pejović (1929–2018) ...... 121 Katarina Tomašević A Farewell to Aja: Fragments of Memories ...... 127
NEW WORKS Bojana Radovanović What Does the Humming Avatar Remember? Composer’s Voice and Memory in Ana Gnjatović’s Phonations ...... 133 Olga Otašević ‘Harmony of the Spheres’ in the Musical ‘Vitrage’ of The Thirteen-star Flower of Cassiopeia: Micro- and Macro-manipulation With Time and Space ...... 144 ANALYTICAL PERSPECTIVES Dragan Latinčić Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis ...... 153
RESEARCH AND TRADITION Sonja Marinković The 80th Anniversary of the Faculty of Music in Belgrade ...... 175
REVIEWS Ana Kotevska Marija Bergamo, Muzikološke sledi ob osemdesetletnici (Musicological Traces at Eighty), Ljubljana: Znanstvena založba Filozofske fakultete, 2017 ...... 195 Sonja Cvetković Katarina Tomašević (ed.), Davorin Jenko (1835–1914). Prilozi za kulturu sećanja / Prispevki za kulturo spomina [Contributions to Cultural Remembrance], Belgrade: Institute of Musicology of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts, National Council of the Slovenian National Minority in the Republic of Serbia, 2016 ...... 198 Radoš Mitrović Nada Kolundžija, Breathing In/Breathing Out: A Little Anthology of Piano Music (1914–2014), Ivana Miladinović Prica (ed.), Belgrade: Vertical jazz, 2017 ...... 202
DEFENDED DOCTORAL DISSERTATIONS Radoš Mitrović The End of Postmodernity in European Music and Its Dependence on Socio-Political and Artistic Context ...... 207 Milan Milojković Digital Technology in Serbian Artistic Musical Output (1972–2010) ...... 209
Contributors to the Issue ...... 212 Novak, J.: Music that knows where it’s going – Conversation with Tom Johnson
CONVERSATIONS
Article received on April 18th 2018 Article accepted on May 16th 2018 UDC: 78:929 Џонсон Т.(047.53)
Jelena Novak* Universidade NOVA de Lisboa
MUSIC THAT KNOWS WHERE IT’S GOING Conversation with Tom Johnson1
Tom Johnson’s biography was taken from Johnson’s website http://www.edi- tions75.com, with author’s permission. Tom Johnson, born in Colorado in 1939, received his B.A. and M.Mus. degrees from Yale University, and studied composition privately with Morton Feldman. After 15 years in New York, he moved to Paris, where he has lived since 1983. He is considered a minimalist, since he works with simple forms, limited scales, and generally reduced materials, but he proceeds in a more logical way than most minimalists, often using formulas, permutations, predictable sequences and various mathematical models. Johnson is well known for his operas: The Four Note Opera (1972) continues to be presented in many countries. Riemannoper has been staged more than 30 times
* Author contact information: [email protected] 1 The conversation took place at Tom Johnson’s studio and archive in Paris on November 25, 2017. I am grateful to Dejan Marković and Frits van der Waa for help with the transcription of the interview and to Katarina Kostić who translated it for the issue of the New Sound in Serbian.
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in German-speaking countries since its premier in Bremen in 1988. Often played non-operatic works include Bedtime Stories (1985), Rational Melodies (1982), Mu- sic and Questions (1988), Counting Duets (1982), Tango (1984), Narayana’s Cows (1989), and Failing: a very difficult piece for solo string bass (1975). His largest composition, the Bonhoeffer Oratorium (1988-92), a two-hour work in German for orchestra, chorus, and soloists, with text by the German theologian Di- etrich Bonhoeffer, was premiered in Maastricht in 1996, and has since been pre- sented in Berlin and New York. Johnson has also written numerous radio pieces, such as J’entends un choeur (com- missioned by Radio France for the Prix Italia, 1993), Music and Questions (also available on an Australian Broadcasting Company CD) and Die Melodiemaschinen, premiered by WDR Radio in Cologne in January 1996. The principal recordings currently available on CD are the Musique pour 88 (1988) (XI), An Hour for Piano (1971) (Lovely Music), The Chord Catalogue (1986) (XI), Organ and Silence (2000) (Ants), and Kientzy Plays Johnson (2004) (Pogus), Ra- tional Melodies and Bedtime Stories performed by clarinetist Roger Heaton (Ants Records AG12) and Symmetries (Karnatic LabsKLR 010). The Voice of New Music, a collection of articles written 1971–1982 for the Village Voice, published by Apollohuis in 1989, is now in the public domain and can be downloaded at www.editions75.com. Self-Similar Melodies, a theoretical book in English, was published by Editions 75 in 1996. Recent projects include Tilework (2002–2005), a series of 14 pieces for solo instru- ments, published by Editions 75 in 2003, Same or Different (2004), a piece com-
2 Novak, J.: Music that knows where it’s going – Conversation with Tom Johnson
missioned by the Dutch radio in 2004, and the Combinations for String Quartet, premiered in Berlin on the MärzMusik festival in 2004, and more recently, scores such as Kirkman’s Ladies (2005), Networks, Septet, and 55 Chords for two electric keyboards, all derived from combinatorial designs. As a performer he frequently plays his Galileo, a 40-minute piece written for a self-invented percussion instru- ment. Johnson received the French national prize in the Victoires de la musique in 2001 for Kientzy Loops (2000). The latest orchestra score is 360 Chords, premiered in July 2008 by Musica Viva in Munich.
When did your interest in music begin? And when did your interest in mathemat- ics begin and how did these two things happen to cross? Well, my parents say that before I was thirteen they couldn’t make me play the piano and practice like I was supposed to, and after thirteen they couldn’t make me stop. I had a very good teacher at around that age, named Rita Hutch- erson. She is dead now, but, that was my passion and I played a little ‘cello and clarinet and continued just studying music theory and composition at Yale, and afterwards took private lessons with Morton Feldman for two years. But, around the age of forty I was already starting to do counting music and logical progres- sions and was interested in algorithms and how to make music that knows where it is going and music that has some intelligence and not just subjective dreams and autobiographical choices and so forth – and emotions. I wanted music that was clear and comprehensible and music that was even predictable, and so counting was the first thing to do: 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4… things like that. The Rational Melodies come along around 1982–3 and that was more counting music, but it was around this time that I thought: hey, Tom, you really are trying to do mathematics and you should study a little more. I took a course in Calculus in a very low level university night school and I passed the course, but barely, and I had to work a lot, and all these 19- and 20-year-old students were getting A’s without working at all, because they were young. It’s much easier to learn mathematics when you are young. Anyway, I decided it was a little too late to really learn mathematics, but I could try, and when I saw 1988 coming up I thought, there are 88 keys on the piano, so let’s try and write music for 88, and I started going to a mathematics library. I couldn’t understand 90 percent of what you find in a mathematics library, but I went back to Euclid. Euclid did not only write geometry, but the majority of his writings are number theory. Very simple, basic number theory. And things like that. There is a very simple Fermat theory and Pascal’s triangle. That I could un- derstand. In fact I even studied that in high school. And so I wrote a piece about
3 New Sound 51, I /2018
Pascal’s triangle and another piece about Mersenne numbers, which is all to the power of 2 minus 1, and I wrote this anthology Music for 88. I’ll never be a mathematician, but at least I started to know basic things, and then in 2000 there was a monthly meeting that happened at IRCAM about music and mathematics. It was called MaMuX – Mathematics, Music and X, and there I met some really good mathematicians who were interested in music, and oth- er musicians who were interested in mathematics, and had very important con- tacts with them and learned about tilework, which means tiling. Mostly you tile two-dimensional surfaces – that’s what tiling usually means. But we were tiling one dimensional surfaces – that is to make rhythms that tile together and things like that, but I am giving a very long answer to a very short question (laugh)…
You were also part of the downtown scene of composers that started doing min- imalism in music and actually you were writing criticism at that point in the Village Voice. You were doing composition also so you knew very well what was happening around. Did you find yourself part of that scene? Yeah, I was definitely part of the scene. But people knew me as a critic and when you are the critic everybody wants you to write about them. They don’t think about your music. So, it’s always a little difficult… I had to write about everybody else’s music, they never thought about playing mine, though some people were playing my music. This is 1971–1982. I wrote for the Village Voice every week. But it didn’t stop me from composing. In fact, The Four Note Op- era was premiered in 1972. An Hour for Piano in 1973 and counting music was starting and so forth. So I was doing my music. I just wasn’t known so much among composers. But I was very much part of the minimalist music movement and some people say that I really was the first person that talked about minimal- ism as a musical movement, although the idea really came from minimal sculp- ture, which was a little earlier in New York. Anyway it was a very nice period. We were a very cooperative community. There was not just Glass and Reich but many more somewhat lesser-known peo- ple. Robert Ashley, Alvin Lucier who came down from Connecticut regularly, Phill Niblock, who was very important in the movement and had a performance space where many of the concerts were given, and other people that performed with Glass, and Bill Hellermann, who just died, and Pauline Oliveros who would sometimes arrive, although she never lived in NY, living mostly in California … But the core of us were living in New York, and the Downtown scene, focused around the Kitchen in lower Manhattan, was opposed to the Uptown scene, based around Columbia university and The Group for Contemporary Mu- sic. In the early 1970’s they had all the money and all the prestige but by the late
4 Novak, J.: Music that knows where it’s going – Conversation with Tom Johnson
1970’s we had all the money and the prestige. It was a quite a change: from of- ficial contemporary post-Webern music to the new minimal music. It was a real transition, very perceptible during the 1970’s. And of course after Einstein on the Beach in 1975–1976, it was internationally recognized.
Do you remember any specific composition or any specific composer’s idea that you recognized as very important for you at that moment? There were lot of very important influences and we used to talk a lot. Lot of times influences were more from talking than actually from listening to pieces. I used to talk with Robert Ashley about how we have to get away from scores, have to find other ways of writing music. If you’re just putting dots on lines it’s the old language. If you want to find your music, you should find other ways. And that was one of the things that helped me with Nine Bells, which I was working on then with my suspended bells. I couldn’t carry papers around when trying to hit the bells, and looking at the bells. I had to memorize this piece any- way, so I just forgot about notation and wrote the piece with no notation. It was only ten years later that I made a score, because other people wanted to do it. All that really came from discussions with Ashely, who was trying to get away from paper, because he wanted to have a talking band. Speech can’t be notated any- way. It has the inflections because it has to be rhythmic. You know how people talk. How PEOPLE talk. HOW people TALK. You can’t notate that, you have to just know how you are talking.
Also another thing was in the air. When you talk about Nine Bells. There was a lot of performance art there. That was interesting, and people inventing instruments. Yoshi Wada was in- venting his Pipe Horns with big tubes. He did plumbing, he knew plumbing, and he invented these big loud horns. Arnold Dreyblatt had the Orchestra of Sympa- thetic Strings. He was inventing string instruments. And a guy named Jim Bur- ton had the Springed Instrument. It was an instrument with suspended springs, that would do Doooinnng when you pluck them. There were so many invented instruments and that was … But when talking about specific pieces … Some pieces of Steve Reich were interesting, his Pendulum music was a very clear example of process music. So I was not the only one who was interested in logical processes. And he did count- ing pieces too, very simple ones. He abandoned that immediately, but talked about process music for a while, and it was this process music that continued to be the most important aspect of Steve Reich for me. And Charlie Morrow with
5 New Sound 51, I /2018 the counting piece The Number 6. That was a performance that left a strong impression on me. Charlemagne Palestine was there, and I don’t think I was in- fluenced by him, but he was a good example of vocal experimentation. That was an important thing that was happening too: people started making vocal music in different ways. So many cross influences... And later of course when some people start making a lot of money and other people are forgotten and poor, and you don’t see each other because people are travelling in different places than you… This conviviality, these friendships, become a little more difficult, but all through the 1970’s people went to each other’s concerts. It was very important that John Cage lived in town. He was the one composer that everybody loved, and he came to everybody’s concerts. When he wasn’t on tour he was coming down to Kitchen and Phill Niblock’s loft and checking out what we were doing, be- cause he was sincerely interested in younger composers. The only other famous composer in New York at that time was Elliott Carter, who taught at Julliard and never once came Downtown to hear new music. But Cage was so different, and of course, we liked his music a lot more than we liked Elliot Carter’s music any- way. But personality differences were important. Cage was always an inspiration for us, although you can’t call him a min- imalist, despite 4’33’’ and some very simple pieces. Very often he wanted to perform three pieces at once. He wanted maximal things. So I can’t say we were imitating his music, but maybe imitating his strength of personality, his courage, the desire to go ahead without the permission of anybody, to try to be a rugged individual in the great American tradition of rugged individuals, of which Cage was the superb example.
Do you remember any specific advice or situation that was very important when talking to Cage? One thing that that was important was… I was talking to him once and I said, you know John, I am earning my living as an accompanist for modern dance classes and you used to do that when you were young, and I wonder what you think about that. And he said… Well, you know that’s a very interesting question, I have to think about that. I’ll write you a letter. The next day he wrote me a letter. A very nice letter about how that helped him to find the number systems he was working with at that time, and he encouraged me to go ahead with this occupation. I talked about that in the series that I did for an English radio station called Music by My Friends. I did twelve 90-minute radio broad- casts, just with me and my favorite music by these people, and anecdotes about how I knew these other composers and my opinions about their music and so
6 Novak, J.: Music that knows where it’s going – Conversation with Tom Johnson forth. The broadcast about John Cage begins playing the piano like I used to play, accompanying modern dance classes, and I read this letter and talked about him and went on to play my favorite pieces by Cage, which are mostly number pieces. I think the late works of Cage are, from purely musical criteria, the best music of his life, and I wanted people to know some of those.
You still have this letter? Yes, sure, it will be in my archives.
Nine Bells was one of the first pieces that I experienced from you and not live but on video. It made a great impression. One of the things that is extraordinary is the great physical endurance that you need to perform this piece. Well, I was young at the time. I had to retire from that piece at the age of fif- ty-something, because it was just taking too much breath and too much energy. I had to pause after each movement and that’s not very nice.
But it also brings this spirit of performance art. Every time when it’s performed it’s a kind of performance art piece. Yes, it definitely is performance art. Some people say it’s dance. I always wanted to propose it to dance festivals, but the dance festival people never think that a musician can do dance, so I was never able to do it in a dance context. But it was certainly a performance. A young man’s piece. A young woman’s piece. I think there is a woman who has done it once or twice. Today there are at least five people in the world who have their own bells and who have done this piece.
Back in 1972 you wrote your first opera – The Four Note Opera. It is impressive that even four years before Einstein on the Beach you took questions about how opera can go further, seriously, how it can be problematized, what to do with the opera, and also to deal with all these self-reflecting questions about it. How did you come to this point? There were specific influences there. The most obvious I suppose is Piran- dello’s Six Characters in Search of An Author. And that was the first sort of self-reference theater probably. I loved that piece, which I had not seen. I just read the text and I loved that piece, the idea. I went to a lot of theatre in the ear- ly 1970’s and late 1960’s. In New York there was a lot of experimental theatre going on. And sometimes people experimenting with theatre, different kinds of space and different kinds of audience. The audience has to move from one place
7 New Sound 51, I /2018 to another sometimes, and things like this. And Bertholt Brecht, I was learning something about him. I had a friend who understood how Brecht’s theatre theory worked, and that was an important element that led me to The Four Note Opera. A lot of people were staging, sometimes for the first time, the plays and operas of Gertrude Stein. I saw quite a few performances of that. Stein is very different in many ways. She never specifies the characters and it all doesn’t make very much sense. But she plays with language in a way, and the repetition is minimal in another way, and I think there must be a Stein influence in The Four Note Opera as well.
Other composers were not doing really many operas at that time... No, no. Robert Ashley said he was doing operas. I always argued with him saying “if you are doing operas you have to accept bel canto voices, you have to work with singers”, and he would answer “Oh, no. I want to do a talking opera. Opera just means work and I can do a work however I want”.
Did you expect such a success with The Four Note Opera? Oh, no. Of course not. You never expect success when you are 32 years old. You are just happy to get something performed. I mean, if you are normal. There are some people, megalomaniacs, who think that everything they do is going to be a great success, but I was not like that. I tried to attract legitimate theaters like the Metropolitan Opera Workshop and a couple of theatres that had budgets to do these plays. But I couldn’t get that, so we finally did it in Cubiculo, which is a little theatre that had really no money, but they would give you space and pay for a little publicity and you could do something. The singers were not paid at all, nor the director, but this singing teacher told her students that this could be great experience, so we put this together on a “shoe string” in three weeks. The first night there were ten people in the audience, our families and two critics, but the critics both wrote very positive things, and by the end of three weeks we were sold out, all hundred and fifty seats. And the next year there was a television ver- sion on CBS, and next year the European premiere in Amsterdam, and so forth. And it just went on.
Why only piano as an instrument in The Four Note Opera? I say in the Introduction that people always want to orchestrate. They think you need a lot of instruments to do an opera. I thought, the reason opera sounds very weak and unsatisfying when people do it with a piano accompaniment in-
8 Novak, J.: Music that knows where it’s going – Conversation with Tom Johnson stead of an orchestra is just because the music was not written for piano. It was written for the orchestra. A piano reduction is real reduction. But if you write real piano music, it can be very satisfying, and that’s what I decided to do. And with the influence of Feldman, I think I knew how to treat that instrument really like an instrument and not imitating flutes and drums and things. So I say in the Introduction you have lot of freedom how to produce this piece but it has to be piano only. Because it was written for piano and you are not going to improve it by adding more instruments.
We didn’t say anything about Feldman and your collaboration as a professor and a student... Another one of twelve composers in Music by My Friends is Feldman. In fact, I did two broadcasts with him. The first was about my studies with him, and especially how he used to tell me to listen to sounds when they fade away, because sometimes they go up and sometimes they go down. I’d never heard anybody say that. I don’t think anybody else ever said it, because nobody else ever heard that. It’s funny. He’d show me and we’d listen, and sometime they go up and sometime they go down just as they fade out. Things like this taught me that I have to listen. I can’t just take the notes as algebraic realities. You have to listen to what is happening. That helped me a lot to find out how to write good piano music and how to write for voices and everything. At the end of that first broadcast about Feldman I do a little analysis of Palais de Mari which is one of my favorite Feldman pieces. With the four-note chord that’s so important at the beginning of Palais de Mari I demonstrate these phenomena about how sounds when they disappear can go up and go down. And people who have heard this recording say they can hear sounds that go up or down according to my ex- planation. By that time I had a theory about why they go up and why they go down, but that is a long story, so you have to listen to the broadcast. For the second Feldman broadcast, I wanted to do a long piece, so I chose Piano and String Quartet, so that you get 45 minutes of music and just 10 or 15 minutes of talking.
Did he influence you by his opera writing? No, he wrote only one opera and it’s not really an opera, its another orches- tra piece with a vocal solo. Just one singer and no story or anything. No, he was not a theater man, he was a music man. That’s most important for a composer.
This dimension of theatricality for your music is very important, and not only for
9 New Sound 51, I /2018 music theatre. Like Eggs and Baskets or Knock on Wood: “Solution 571” for woodblock solo... That comes from the fact I was also a writer. I was a professional music crit- ic for eleven years. I like to write and have written several books and I wrote the libretto for the Four Note Opera and I selected the text for Riemannoper from the Riemann Musiklexikon. I had written a lot of text, and I am comfortable with the written language, and when I found the story about the Indian mathematician who counted cows for seventeen generations, I wrote the text for that just to ex- plain the mathematical formula. Writing is part of what I do.
Ant there is this component of humour, very witty humour... Yeah, in the Self-similar Melodies, there’s a chapter about how to make an algorithm with sandwiches. You have certain notes, and you sandwich in more notes, and then you sandwich in other notes – and at the end of this rather intel- lectually complicated discussion I say: “But you need a rest, go make yourself a sandwich.” I can’t resist this kind of humor. At least it adds a little humor to a theoretical book that is otherwise very dry and methodical.
And I remember when you explained to me how you started writing for example Eggs and Baskets, you said that first you wanted to make a piece for kids... Yeah, it was a commission to do a piece for kids. So I thought: Well with visual aids, some eggs and some baskets, the kids will start to understand that there’re only two ways to put one egg in two baskets, but there’re four ways to put one egg in one basket, both eggs in one basket, both eggs in the other basket, two other ways to put … and so on. But then it starts to get complicated, when you have three eggs, and four eggs and five eggs, and the kids that day, they didn’t understand anything. They were talking and leaving and causing prob- lems already after three or four minutes. But the parents loved it! They were following everything, and they thought: This is very clever, to hear all the com- binations. Here are the combinations, just think about them or learn about them like in a math class. So I realized this is a piece for adults. I didn’t expect that, and the performers didn’t either. A lot of times pieces surprise you. You think you know who the audience is, but you don’t.
You said also that you like music that has some kind of its own intelligence, that knows where it goes by its own. How would you explain this? Well, the eggs in the basket knew where they were going. They knew that
10 Novak, J.: Music that knows where it’s going – Conversation with Tom Johnson there was going to be all the possibilities, and you can’t leave one out, and you can’t repeat one. Yeah, that’s a good example of music that knows where it’s going.
But also in interpretation. Recently when you were commenting on a pianist’s interpretation, you said that you didn’t like romantic interpretation on the piano, but more music that is developing on its own, somehow. Yeah, well, you want to let the music do what it wants to do, that’s some- thing that Morton Feldman always said. Let the music do what it wants to do. He meant: as a composer. But it’s even better advice for an interpreter. Let the mu- sic do what it wants to do. If the music just wants to go from two notes to four notes to eight notes to sixteen notes, you shouldn’t interfere with that. And every time you try to make it happy, or sad, or too slow or too fast, or accelerating or getting louder, you’re interfering with what the music wants to do. So as a com- poser and as an interpreter, it’s best to get out of the way as much as possible. And in fact that’s one of my main goals, and this comes from Cage. Cage really wanted to let the music do what it wanted to do. Perhaps Feldman got it a little bit from Cage. And that’s why he started writing music with chance – because he didn’t want to enforce his own tastes on the music. He wanted music to fol- low some other logic. And he liked the I Ching, which was kind of fashionable at that time, and kind of new in the West, Music of Changes. But in my case I didn’t want to work with chance, I was more interested in causality of a mathe- matical and logical sort.
Do you ever resist the mathematical process that you deal with? Do you resist it in some kind of musical way, or do you always respect it? Well, there are pieces that aren’t so mathematical. But if I start with an al- gorithm, I follow it. Let the math take control. There are other, earlier pieces that don’t have any mathematical control. An hour for piano was a good example. Or even the Four Note Opera.
The piano music is a kind of constant in your whole oeuvre. Please put your piano music into the perspective. How did it develop? Since I played the piano, piano had a very important role in my music since the beginning. In fact, one of the first really good pieces that I wrote wasSpaces, which was a piano piece. It begins with the six chords that I wrote for Morton Feldman when I was still studying with him. Other sounds also reflect Feld-
11 New Sound 51, I /2018 man’s taste for modern painting, different spaces working together in a painting or in a piece of music. Then An Hour for Piano came from modern dance ac- companying and grew out directly out of that. A Scene for Piano and Tape was a theatre piece. It also involved piano. There was not so much piano sound, but pi- ano was important in the theatre... later, more complicated things: Block Design for piano was mathematical music with a very specific sound, a nice piece that I like very much, Twelve was a piece with twelve-note block designs, and all the way up to the latest piano piece that is called Slight Variations. This is just one idea with 48 slight variations, really the same idea but in 48 sets of notes doing the same thing, and that makes a nice piano piece. And Tilework for piano, that was the tilework period. All of the periods of my music are represented in one way or another as piano pieces.
In relation to the Plucking CD you said that you didn’t want to work a lot with a mixture of different traditions of music, because it could turn to some kind of colonialism. What is your approach to different musical traditions? I have always been against “world music” because it usually means that some poor African comes to play with some poor Spanish flamenco player, and they are improvising together, and somebody else is making all the money, say- ing he is doing “world music” because cultures are meeting. That does not in- terest me so much, but I love all the instruments of the world. It is lovely to talk just about plucked instruments because there are plucked instruments on every continent and they make a lovely family. I don’t think of this as colonial though. It is European-based because the piece is written in European notation and it will usually be performed in European situations, where you can find musicians from Iran and Africa and Korea, Japan, all in the same town, and can get them together to play.
So you enter here in the area of music and politics in a way. Well, I don’t do political music, but I like the idea of the world cultures. I go to the zoo in Paris very often, it’s one of the oldest zoos in the world. I love go- ing back and watching all the monkeys again and again. The tapirs are one of my favourite animals, and all the different parrots and flamingos who always make different sounds. I think it is a kind of U.N. for animals, and they all seem to get along very well together.
Except that they are in jail.
12 Novak, J.: Music that knows where it’s going – Conversation with Tom Johnson
Yes, but in the U.N. if you are obliged to sit at those meetings day after day, that is a kind of imprisonment too, isn’t it? (laugh). Anyway, they seem happy, they are very well-fed and well-heated and happy together and they can get to know one another. The one from Sahara might be right across from the one who came from Alaska. International cooperation is very important for everybody to think about these days.
Let’s go back to the opera, to the rest of the pieces that you created. How did you arrive at the idea of the Riemannoper? Obviously you wanted to make fun of those very serious German musicologists who talked about music in a kind of formal way. I’ve always been interested in music references, reference books, in Grove and Larousse...
To make fun of them? No, they already seem funny! Musicologists, and especially the second rate musicologists, who write for books like that, usually graduate students who don’t know very much, but they want to pronounce the absolute truth of what this is and what that is, to define everything. It is kind of ridiculous. I thought, you know, it would be nice to find the Larousse definition of baritone and that is already kind of funny, you can make an aria about that. And I thought about that – an Opera selon Larousse, or Opera According to Groves, but I finally thought that an opera according to the Riemann Musiklexicon was even better, because the German musicologists are even more authoritative, they know even more than the English and the French (laugh). Their definitions are already kind of funny. If you gonna write Aria da Capo you give the exact definition, not just approximate, but very exact. You have to give the page number. In an opera you never give references, but in this opera you have to give your references so that everybody knows that that came from page 88 in the Riemann Musiklexicon. I had a lot of fun with that. I think the German version is better than the English and the French would have been. But maybe someday somebody will do an Op- era according to Groves, and that could be very nice too.
And your Un’Opera Italiana, in which relation does it stand to the tradition of Italian opera? Un’Opera Italiana started already in the late seventies in NY. By that time The Four Note Opera was getting to be pretty well-known, I hadn’t written the
13 New Sound 51, I /2018
Riemannoper yet and I wanted to try to do a ‘big opera’, and I thought – let’s do it in the Italian tradition. So maybe that is similar to my obsession with German traditions in the Riemannoper, I wanted to explore Italian traditions. I did some persiflage and not very serious sketches in NY. When I moved to Paris I went to the library more often. Somehow I became more serious in Europe than I was in NY, so I went often to really research Italian opera. I listened to more Vivaldi operas that you would ever want to listen to probably, and I looked at many dif- ferent marriage scenes, and at pastorales in different operas, because I thought, in opera I should have a pastorale and a marriage scene, and of course love scenes, a seduction scene... So, everything from Monteverdi to Verdi is there in a minimalist interpretation with lots of Italian tradition. I sent the 1991 score around to all the big operas in the world (you have to have an orchestra and a chorus and good singers) and nobody wanted to do it, and it sat on the shelf for another fifteen years. The final edition came out in 2006. “MMVI” it says on the cover, in the great Italian tradition. They always use Roman numerals for the date, MMVI. My assistant, copyist, webmaster and great friend, Javier Ruiz, was very important there, because he designed the whole edition – he found all the Italian typography, ornaments, a lovely edition. Even if no one ever performs the piece, the edition is already a work of art, but someday it will be performed, I think. It just has to wait.
Musicologists and theorists are included in this piece? Oh yes, after each scene you get the panel of experts, just one musicolo- gist, but an art historian, an Italian specialist and the biographer of the composer (there has to be somebody who is going to defend the composer) and the dra- maturge, and they all make their comments. Mostly they don’t like the music, but sometimes they like the music and the musicologist finds something he can identify “Ah, this is a quote from some unknown opera by Donizetti” and so forth. It is recitativo secco. You know, sometimes pieces take a long time. I said the other night at the concert how Ugly Culture did the premiere of Narayana’s cows about two years after it was written, and nobody else wanted to do it at all. But now it is one of my most popular pieces. Another piece called Doublings for Double Bass was commissioned by Bertram Turetzky. The bassist has to count and to compute the new melodies as he doubles, and Turetzky couldn’t play it, and nobody else could either. Finally, 37 years after it was written, Tom Peters, a bassist in San Diego, did it – a twenty minute version! It’s a lovely recording. That’s what the piece should have been. Maybe now other bassists will decide to use their heads a little bit, calculate the notes, and learn the piece!
14 Novak, J.: Music that knows where it’s going – Conversation with Tom Johnson
And the rest of the operas – Shaggy dog operas, for example, they are based on kind of absurd stories, what was your intention there? Shaggy dog stories are a kind of joke, they take a long time to tell and have stupid endings. I wanted operas that did that, fifteen minute operas. So these four, premiered in 1978, are still in the catalogue and continue to be performed – Door, I think, is performed the most often, but Window, Dryer and Drawers are also done from time to time. Now there’s a fifth opera, Curtain, which will make a full evening, and I hope that somebody will do all five, but that hasn’t happened yet.
It seems that when you come to opera you have to declare something manifestly, give the stark truth, as it is. It needs to be a kind of caricature. Also the opera 200 years, that deals with the jubilee in France, it was also your criticism, on the verge of political... Sometimes people think that Riemannoper criticizes German opera, but it criticizes German musicology much more. Un’opera Italana does not really criticize Italian opera either. Directors sometimes think that I’m doing a satire of Italian opera, but that’s not really true, it’s an homage, I love all Italian opera, from Monteverdi to Verdi and beyond. The other case – more specific maybe – is 200 Years, which was a com- mission for the 200th anniversary of France in 1989. So here I wanted to do something that would commemorate two hundred years, but this is a little bit the fault of Esther Ferrer, my wife, who wanted to do the libretto. She said: “Oh, it’s simple! You just say seventeen-eighty-nine, seventeen-ninety, seventeen-nine- ty-one, seventeen-ninety-two… When you get up to nineteen-eighty-nine you’re finished!” I said: “Well... that seems a little simple, but why not? Maybe it’s a good idea.” So that was the libretto, signed “Esther Ferrer”. Well, with a libretto like this, we’re already not taking French history terribly seriously. And besides, the director who was assigned to my project – a man that I loved very much, we became good friends after that – was Roland Topor. He was already known for humor and many other things – an artist. And he said: “Well, I think, having thought about it a little bit, what we’re gonna do with 200 Years is get two hundred sacs-poubelle, put French history in the garbage bags and get rid of the past. We’re talking about the future now.” I thought: This is a great idea, it’s kind of funny and kind of performance art, but not really... you’re not criticizing anything bad, you’re not criticizing the French performances in the wars, you’re not saying that French are racists or anything like that, you’re just saying the past is over! So I thought this was a good idea,
15 New Sound 51, I /2018 and I wrote for bel canto voices, setting the libretto exactly the way Esther wrote it. It’s taking something and doing it just the way the libretto says, just the way the Riemann Musiklexikon said. It’s very simple.
Is Esther Ferrer the visual artist who most influenced your work? Haha! I suppose so. She likes prime numbers a lot and so do I. In fact, I helped her a couple of times with pieces, made suggestions and things. I can’t say that we really collaborate. In fact, the opera 200 Years is the only real collab- oration I think we ever did. Sometimes we’ve done simultaneous performances; she does her piece, I do my piece. But we don’t really collaborate. And Esther says, when people ask: “Hey, we live together, we eat together, we sleep togeth- er, you’d like us to work together, as well? That’s enough.” But sometimes when I’ve a problem, I ask Esther: “What should I do here?” and I play her something. And often she gives me good advice. And I hope I give her good advice sometimes, too. We love the same people and the same styles of art and we understand each other very well, so sometimes there can be good advice going back and forth.2
2 More about Tom Johnson’s music is available at his YouTube channel via composer’s own introduction.
16 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
STUDIES
Article received on January 16th 2017 Revised version accepted on May 16th 2018 UDC: 784.4:355.257.7(=163.41)(439.5)”1915/1918”
Nice Fracile* University of Novi Sad Academy of Arts Department of Musicology and Ethnomusicology
THE PHONOGRAPHIC RECORDINGS OF TRADITIONAL MUSIC PERFORMED BY SERBIAN PRISONERS OF WAR (1915 –1918)1
Abstract: This paper will focus on an examination of the phonographic recordings of traditional music, as performed by Serbian war prisoners during World War One (1915– 1918) in the German camps of Königsbrück and Parchim. These recordings of traditional Serbian songs and instrumental tunes were made on the spot by the German researcher Georg Schünemann. This is a unique and outstandingly valuable source – in terms of quantity, quality and scientific approach – providing material about Serbian folklore from the early 20th century. The author of this paper will examine the basic poetic/musical features of that material, the difficulties in deciphering the recordings and the identifica-
*Author contact information: [email protected] 1 This paper was presented at the 21st Symposium of the International Council for Tradi- tional Music, Study Group on Historical Sources of Traditional Music, held in Paris, France, March 9–13 2016.
17 New Sound 51, I /2018 tion of the informants, and also the continuity and changes in the style of performing those songs and instrumental tunes, which can still be heard sung and played in Serbia – in comparison to the musical folklore material from the early 20th century. Moreover, the significance and current relevance of the material for Serbian ethnomusicology will be highlighted, considering the fact that it has not been accessible to the scholarly public so far. Keywords: phonographic recordings, wax cylinders, Serbian prisoners, German camps, Königsbrück, Parchim, poetic/musical features, dactylic form, heterometric and hetero- rhythmic structure.
Introductory notes
As early as the beginning of the 20th century, researchers in Serbia who studied traditional music pointed out the necessity of using а phonograph in their work in order to record musical folklore materials as precisely and truthfully as pos- sible. Yet this device was not available to them before the 1930’s.2 It was in this decade that Serbian researchers – ethnologist Borivoje Drobnjaković and com- poser Kosta Manojlović – made the first recordings of Serbian traditional songs.3
2 The famous Serbian composer Mokranjac was aware of the difficulties in the efforts to record folkloric material which the lack of adequate devices posed for sound recording and reproduction; thus, he said once: “In order to make such recording more reliable, a pho- nograph should be provided into which the singers should sing, while the expert should truthfully put whatever is sung into notation thereafter” (Стеван Стојановић Мокрањац, Етномузиколошки записи, Драгослав Девић (прир.) Београд–Књажевац, Музичко- издавачко предузеће “Нота“, Завод за уџбенике и наставна средства, 1996, XV). As his wish was never fulfilled, he continued to put down tunes ’by ear’, that is, straight from the informants. 3 The audio recordings of Serbian musical folklore material by foreign researchers, made for commercial purposes during the first decades of the 20th century, fall beyond the sub- ject of this paper. The phonographic recordings of Serbian and Romanian traditional music made by Béla Bartók across Banat in 1912 were among the first to be made, using a schol- arly approach. For more on that, see: Нице Фрациле, “Записи Беле Бартока са банатских простора”, Зборник Матице српске за сценске уметности и музику, 16–17, 1995, 53– 76; Nice Fracile, “In the Wake of Bartók’s Recordings. The Changes and Evolutionary Ten- dencies in the Serbian and Romanian Folklores in Vojvodina, Yugoslavia”, in: East European Meetings in Ethnomusicology, 2nd volume, Marin Marian Bălaşa (ed.), Bucharest, Marin Marian Bălaşa, 1995, 15–23; Nice Fracile, “Bartók Béla: Szerb népzenei gyüjtése Fono- gramok a Bánátból 1912. Szerb zenei hagyományok I” (Collection of Phonographic Record- ings of Serbian Folk Music from Banat, 1912. Legacy of Serbian Folk Music I), Нови Звук, интернационални часопис за музику, 37/I, 2011, 107–109; Nice Fracile, “The Manners of
18 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
Unfortunately, most of the wax cylinders from those times have been damaged, and there are few which can be deciphered and used for scholarly purposes.4 But there is one unique and outstandingly valuable source – in terms of quantity, quality and scientific approach – providing material about Serbian folklore from the early 20th century: phonographic recordings of traditional music performed by Serbian prisoners of war during World War One (1915–1918) in the German camps of Königsbrück and Parchim.5 These recordings of traditional Serbian songs and instrumental tunes were made on the spot by the German musicolo- gist Georg Schünemann. This paper focuses on examining the basic poetic/musical features of that material, on the difficulties encountered in deciphering the recordings and the identification of the informants, and also on the continuity and changes in the style of performing those songs and instrumental tunes, which can still be heard sung and/or played in Serbia – in comparison to the musical folklore materi- al from the early 20th century. Attention is paid to the general morphological features, too. Moreover, the significance and current relevance of the material for Serbian ethnomusicology are highlighted, considering the fact that it has not been accessible to the scholarly public so far. During World War One, some 220,000 soldiers of the Army of the King- dom of Serbia found themselves in prison camps, sharing the destiny of about 8,000,000 prisoners of war in the same period.6 The largest number of these Serbs, more than 154,000, were imprisoned in Austria-Hungary; some 40,000 in Bulgaria; according to German statistical sources, thought to be extremely pre-
Performance in Historical Recordings of the Serbian and Romanian Traditional Music”, in: Proceedings of the Regional Conference Research, Preservation and Presentation of Banat Heritage: Current State and Long Term Strategy (Vršac, Serbia, 17–19 November 2011), Vršac: City Museum of Vršac, 2012, 157–164. 4 For more about this research, see: Dragoslav Dević, Etnomuzikologija, I i II deo (skripta), Beograd, Fakultet muzičke umetnosti, 1981, XVII; Растко Јаковљевић (ур.), “Фоноархив Музиколошког института САНУ: историјски звучни записи у дигиталној ери”, Београд, Музиколошки институт САНУ, 2014, (CD-ROM), 20–24. 5 I wish to express my gratitude to Professor Dr. Lars-Christian Koch, Director of the Ethno- logical Museum in Berlin, and Dr. Susanne Ziegler for having confidence in me and allowing me the privilege to study and evaluate the phonographic recordings of the Serbian traditional music performed by the prisoners of war from Serbia during World War One. My thanks are also due to my colleague Ms. Adelajda Merchán-Drazkowska whose generous help and kind- ness I enjoyed during my study visit to Berlin. 6 Cf. Dalibor Denda, “Serbian POWs in the Great War”, Collection of Works, vol. 30, Srdjan Rudić and Miljan Milkić (eds.), Beograd, Strategic Research Institute, Institute of History, 2015, 287.
19 New Sound 51, I /2018 cise, and there were 28,746 prisoners from Serbia in Germany, and they made up 1.14 percent of the total number of prisoners of war in that country.7 Most of the captives were held in 47 prison camps on German territory. The camps included Königsbrück near Dresden, and Parchim near Hamburg.8 Among the prisoners in thеse camps, there were some from Serbia who sang and/or played traditional music from the folkloric heritage of the Kingdom of Serbia.
An overview of the musical folklore material The musical folklore material collected by Georg Schünemann and deposited at the Ethnological Museum in Berlin was recorded on a phonograph on 63 wax cylinders. Altogether, there are 85 recorded items taken from 18 Serbian cap- tives: 51 items fall within vocal or vocal-instrumental tradition, and 34 within instrumental tradition. Those are lyric, epic and old town songs, as well as patri- otic and combat songs; also, there are two choral songs, two inspired by the life of seamen, one wedding song, one serenade, one satirical song and the national anthem entitled God of Justice (Bože pravde). The instrumental corpus predomi- nantly contains the tunes of the traditional songs and dances of the Serbs; others include signal, pastoral, epic melodies and spontaneous improvisations played on the violin, frula, bagpipe and gusle. Some difficulties occurred when I set about writing down the lyrics of some songs and/or identifying the informants. The difficulties were due either to dam- age on the recordings or to the rather bad diction of some singers, and some- times to incompleteness of the accompanying documentation. What proved to be of the utmost help were the cards of the informants with an identical ques- tionnaire and their answers to the questions asked (name and surname, date and place of birth, national/ethnic identity, etc.). Although I did not have the cards of all the informants at my disposal, I did manage – on the basis of the sound recordings and the existing accompanying documents – to identify the infor- mants from each recording individually.9 One of the questions each informant
7 Cf. Dalibor Denda, op. cit., 282 apud: Jochen Oltmer, Unentberliche Arbeitskräfte – Kriegs- gefangene in Deutschland 1914–1918, Kriegsgefangene im Europa des Erstens Weltkriegs, Hgb. von Jochen Oltmer, Krieg in der Geschichte, Hgb. von Stieg Förster, Bernhard R. Kro- ner und Bernd Weger, Band 24, Ferdinand Schöningh, Paderborn, München, Wien, Zürich 2006, 69. 8 Most of these recordings were made in Königsbrück. 9 Cards have not been found for five informants, so there are no information on them avail- able. Of the 13 cards, eight contain complete answers (to all of the questions) by the respec- tive eight respondents.
20 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
Questionnaires of the Serbian, Romanian and Romany informants
21 New Sound 51, I /2018
22 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
23 New Sound 51, I /2018 was asked was whether he played an instrument available in the camp that came from his homeland. Three men gave affirmative answers: one played on a (bor- rowed) flute, and the other two played the bagpipe.10 The checkout of the cards showed that all of the respondents had Serbian citizenship, and that some of them were of non-Serb ethnic identity (three Romanians11 and one Romany12), which was partly reflected in their repertoire. However, this paper focuses on the presentation of Serbian traditional music. In terms of religion, all of the infor- mants declared that they practised the Eastern Orthodox faith.13 In his search for additional information about those who managed to return to their families, the author of this paper tried to follow the lead provided by the Serbian prisoners/informants from whom the musical folkloric material was col- lected. One of the survivors was Voja Ivković of Veliko Gradište (1884–1946), who had sung two traditional songs: ‘Kukuruzi već se beru’ (‘Corn Harvest Has Already Begun’) and ‘Mila moja Fata’ (‘My Darling Fata’; VII_W_0477_ Phon_Kom_453) and the national anthem of the Kingdom of Serbia ‘God of Justice’ (’Bože pravde’; VII_W_0478_Phon_Kom_454). On a photo from the camp, there is a written note: ‘za uspomenu V. Ivk...kafedž’ (‘in remembrance, to V.Ivk...coff’), where the last and incomplete word could mean kafedžija, ‘cof- feehouse keeper’; yet on the reverse side of the picture one can read that he had for a while lived and been a bank clerk in Subotica.14 One of the most relevant and favourite ritual songs at Serbian wedding par- ties is entitled Odbi se biser grana od jorgovana (The Lilac Pearl-Twig Has
10 Jovan Aleksić, age 27 (date of birth not entered in the card), flute, Serb. Place of birth: illegible, region: Podrinje (Drina river valley); Marko Lazić, age 37, b. 05.01.1879, bagpipe, Serb. Place of birth: Čirikovac, region: Požarevac; Đorđe Aranđelović, age 29, b. 14.08.1887, bagpipe, Serb. Place of birth: Raunovo, region: Niš. 11 Jefta Marinković, age 27, b. 1.09.1889, violin, Romanian. Place of birth: Maove, region: Podrinje (Drina river valley); Mihajlo Kostić, age 22, b. 17.03.1894, violin, Romanian. Place of birth: Lipolist, region: Podrinje (Drina river valley); Miloš Radulović age 41, b. 20.01.1875, violin, Romanian. Place of birth: Požarevac, region: Požarevac. The abovesaid informants declared that their occupation was: “Müsiker” (i.e. musician). 12 Radisav Jovanović, age 24, b. 13.01.1892, Romany. Place of birth: Begaljica, region: Bel- grade. 13 Four informants confirmed that they could neither read nor write in any language what- soever: Marko Lazić, Đorđe Aranđelović (see footnote 10), Miloš Radulović and Mihajlo Kostić (see footnote 11). 14 Voja Ivković was married to Savka, née Mišić, from Knjaževac. They had no offspring. Voja died at Veliko Gradište (1946). It is noteworthy that the famous Serbian violinist Vlasti- mir Pavlović Carevac was also imprisoned at that time as a member of a cadet unit. At this point and in this way, again, I wish to express my warm thanks to Mr. Žarko Živanović of Veliko Gradište for all the information and photos he made available to me.
24 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
Portrait of Voja Ivković (1884–1946)
Come Off);15 it is quite typical of the Serbian folklore in Vojvodina. The mu- sical notation of this and five other songs were published in Volume Two of Vuk Karadžić’s Serbian Folk Songs (Srpske narodne pjesme), in 1815.16 In later periods, other melographers also published the lyrics and tunes of this wedding song; one of them was Béla Bartók, who recorded the song with his phonograph in Banat, in 1912.17 The same wedding song was sung by the Serbian prisoners of war Jefta Marinković and Mihajlo Kostić (VII_W_0442_Schuenemann_419):
15 On the peculiarities of these strains and the melographers who have published them in various publications on the broad territory of the Danubian region see: Драгослав Девић, “Сватовска песма, Одби се грана од јоргована и особеност њеног напева”, Зборник Матице српске за сценске уметности и музику, 8–9, 1991, 125–131. 16 Вук Стефановић Караџић, Народна србска пěснарица, частЪ 2, Vienna, у ПечатнЬи Іоанна Шнирера, 1815, 356–357. 17 For more on this, see: Нице Фрациле, “Записи Беле Бартока са банатских простора”, op. cit., 69; Nice Fracile, “In the Wake of Bartók’s Recordings. The Changes and Evolution- ary Tendencies in the Serbian and Romanian Folklores in Vojvodina, Yugoslavia”, op. cit., 15–23.
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Voja Ivković with officers
Text of the song Odbi se biser grana od jorgovana The Lilac Pearl-Twig Has Come Off Odbi se biser grana od jorgovana The Lilac Pearl-Twig Has Come Off, I lepa, lepa Smilja, od tvoje majke. And so has beautiful Smilja from her mother. Lepu Smilju odvedeše Beautiful Smilja was taken away, Sa svircima ispratiše, With musicians playing at the farewell, Svi je redom izljubiše, Everyone kissed her good-bye Samo svircu ne dadoše. But the player, forbidden to do the same. Refren Refrain /:Utvaraj, da, daj /:Just imagine, dah, dah, dye, Utvaraj, daj, daj.:/ Just imagine, dah, dah, dye:/
The strains of this song can still be heard at Serbian wedding parties in Vojvodina, yet some lines in the lyrics have undergone a change, especially in the refrain, while the melodic type has remained almost the same.18
18 Nice Fracile, Vokalni muzički folklor Srba i Rumuna u Vojvodini, кomparativna prouča- vanja, Novi Sad, Matica srpska, Udruženje folklorista Vojvodine, 1987, 183, 462–463.
26 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
Although the available informants’ cards reveal that they came from the Kingdom of Serbia, now mostly seen as Serbia Proper (Eastern, Central, South- eastern Serbia), their repertoire contained some songs from the folkloric heri- tage of Vojvodina.19 This refers to some lyrical songs, and this genre prevails in Georg Schünemann’s collection of recordings. Among these, the song Širok Dunav, ravan Srem (Broad’s the Danube, Srem’s an Open Plain) stands out: it is performed by the singer and violinist Jefta Marinković, accompanied by the Ka- pelle (VII_W_0449_NK_Phon_Kom_426).20 This lyrical song comes from the multinational (multicultural) Province of Vojvodina, the northern part of Serbia, and it is very popular even today. His performance is imbued with emotions, offering refined ornamentation and characteris ed by intrinsic musicalness. For easier understanding of the content of songs I tried to translate the verses from Serbian to English:
Text of the song Širok Dunav ravan Srem Širok Dunav ravan Srem ‘Broad’s the Danube, Srem’s an open plain, hej, zbogom diko ja idem. Broad’s the Danube, Srem’s an open plain, Ne reći mi zbogom, zbogom, Don’t say: So long, not so long, hej, već me vodi sa sobom. Hey, but do take me with you now’.
As one of the quite popular songs in Vojvodina, gladly and often sung to the present day, it is – both then and now – performed in the parlando rubato rhyth- mical system, whereby the lyrics and the melodic type remain almost the same or very similar. The song can be heard both in Vojvodina and in other folkloric regions of Serbia, as well as outside the country. Considering the fact that the agelong tradition of singing epic poems to the accompaniment of the gusle across nearly all of the regions settled by the Serbs, such poems/songs are naturally part of the phonographic corpus recorded from the Serbian prisoners. Although the collectors and researchers of epic poetry have concluded that music is their significant coexistential prerequisite, it is as-
19 The region which was part of Austria-Hungary until the end of the Great War. 20 Georg Schünemann used the term Kapelle (band, small orchestra) when referring to the joint performance of the four violinists (Jefta Marinković, Miloš Radulović, Mihajlo Kostić and Petar Jovanović), some of whom – according to need – play second violin (‘contra’), or another section (a kind of counterpoint). Their performance reveals a higher level of art as compared to that by the flute or gusle players, which indicates the accuracy of the note in the informants’ cards which specify their occupation as Musiker, i.e. ‘musician’.
27 New Sound 51, I /2018 sumed that research in the role of music found with the epic genre has been mar- ginalis ed as compared with studies in the lyrics.21 Transcription work and the study of the messages and poetic/musical component in epic poems, especially of their melodic/rhythmic structure and performing style, in the a cappella inter- pretation by the Serbian prisoners of war22, as well as the engrossing character of the lyrics (about Prince Marko, or the bravery and sufferings of the Serbian soldiers, or the assassination of King Aleksandar, etc.) pose a great challenge to researchers. All of the recorded epic poems, including the one about the assassination of King Aleksandar Obrenović, are performed in decasyllabic lines, with coupled rhymes and asymmetric structure (4+6), within a few melodic types of syllabic or a moderately melismatic style of performance. To make up for the missing instrumental accompaniment which is, traditionally, the gusle, the informants resorted to imitation of the instrument by chanting out the vowel sounds ‘a’ or ‘o’. This can be heard in the next illustration, the epic song about the assassina- tion of King Aleksandar Obrenović (VII_W_0434_Phon_Kom_411).23 Follow- ing some consultations with fellow musicologists in Serbia and checks in the available ethnomusicological publications/writings, it can be assumed that, in all probability, the score/notation of this song has not been published in Serbia so far.24 As can be seen from the attached notation, the informant Radisav Jova-
21 Cf. Данка Лајић Михајловић, Српско традиционално певање уз гусле: гусларска пракса као комуникациони процес, Београд, Музиколошки институт САНУ, 2014, 15–16. 22 All of the recorded epic poems/songs are performed a cappella. There is only one speci- men of a recorded epic poem/song that was performed to the accompaniment of the gusle; however, due to the poor diction of the singer, the lyrics are almost impossible to hear dis- tinctly (and write down). 23 The event, known as the ‘May Overthrow’ took place on May 29th, 1903: a group of army officers, led by Dragutin Dimitrijević Apis, killed the royal couple, which marked the end of the Obrenović dynasty. 24 Cf. Миодраг А. Васиљевић, Народне мелодије лесковачког краја, Београд, Српска академија наука, Музиколошки институт,1960; Миодраг А. Васиљевић, Народне песме из Војводине, проф. др Драгослав Девић (прир.), Нови Сад, Матица српска, Завод за културу Војводине, 2009; Драгослав Девић, Народна музика Драгачева, Облици и развој, Београд, Факултет музичке уметности, 1986; Драгослав Девић, Народна музика Црноречја у светлости етногенетских процеса, Београд, Факултет музичке уметности, 1990; Драгослав Девић, Антологија српских и црногорских народних песама с мелодијама, Београд, Карић Фондација, 2001; Dimitrije O. Golemović, Narodna muzika Podrinja (narodna muzička i igračka tradicija Podrinja), Sarajevo, Književna zadruga “Dru- gari”, 1988; Димитрије O. Големовић, Народна музика ужичког краја, Београд, Српска академија наука и уметности, Етнографски институт,1990; Димитрије O. Големовић, Пјевање уз гусле, Београд, Српски генеалошки центар, 2008; Данка Лајић Михајловић,
28 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed... nović pronounces the normally non-existent consonant ‘j’ before the vowels ‘u’ and ‘o’ at the opening of some melostichs.25
Portrait of Aleksandar Obrenović (1876–1903)
op. cit., 2014; Селена Ракочевић, Вокална традиција Срба у Доњем Банату, Београд, Завод за уџбенике и наставна средства, Скупштина општине Панчево, 2002; Nice Frac- ile, Vokalni muzički folklor Srba…, op. cit. 25 Such pronunciation did not occur in the songs performed by the other informants.
29 New Sound 51, I /2018
Scene of the massacre of King Aleksandar and his wife Draga
Text of the song (fragment) Pesma o ubistvu Song on the assassination kralјa Aleksandra Obrenovića of King Aleksandar Obrenović a Bože mili, a Bože jedini, oh, Our Lord, Our only God, Leti soko pa čudo kaziva, Here flies a falcon telling something strange: Čujte, braćo, iz srpskog26 zemalja Hear, O brothers, news from Serbian lands, јUbili su jAleksandra, kralja, Aleksandar, our King, has been slain. Pa kaži nam ti, sokole sivi, Now, you will tell us, O you falcon grey, Ko ga ubi, i što tako skrivi, Who has slain him, what has his guilt been? jUbila ga protivnička ruka He was slain by a rival hand, jOficiri od šestoga puk’. The officers of the Sixth Regiment.
26 The correct form should read ‘srpskih’.
30 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
31 New Sound 51, I /2018
This historic body of phonographic recordings contains a number of songs that used to be sung by the Serbian prisoners at various fronts in the war. They describe the sufferings, the pain and sorrow, battle scenes and horrors; the sol- diers of Serbia and Bosnia are encouraged to show their heroic virtue and brav- ery in the fight against the enemy, and eagerness to defend King Petar and lib- erate their country. The lyrics of the songs vary in terms of type (hexameter, heptameter, octosyllabic verse) and metric structure; each text corresponds to a particular melodic type. Most of the songs possess a solemn tone, and the me- lodic line is performed in a syllabic style and the distributive rhythmic system of two-part metrical division. Such is the following example, the song Serb and Bosnian Men (VII_W_0853_Phon_Kom_817):
32 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
Text of the song Srbijanci i Bosanci Serb and Bosnian Men Srbijanci i Bosanci Serb and Bosnian men, Poternice, žurno, Fast you carry out the chase, Evo te pa slava čeka And glory shall await you U to vreme burno. In this time of storm. Razvi’te se, čujmo Kralja, Spread your lines and hear the King, Kralja Petra od megdana. King Petar of the battlefield. Refren Refrain Napred stupaj, ura! Forward you move, hurray! Maši rukom, ura ne odstupaj! Wield, hurray, do not retreat!
Portrait of King Petar Karađorđević (1844–1921)
33 New Sound 51, I /2018
Instrumental music makes up a little more than one third of Schünemann’s phonographic corpus. Among these recordings, most are done with violin play- ers, and these mucisians proved to be very talented instrumentalists. They played solo, or as violin duos and quartets; within the Kapelle, each instrumentalist had a particular role. 27 Their repertoire included a broad range of instrumental tunes of traditional, old-town and, partly, art music. Although the epic verse is usually sung to the accompaniment of the gu- sle, the violinist Miloš Radulović proved, in an impressive and extremely subtle way, that narrative tunes (which are true gems regardless of the absence of vo- calists) can be performed on his instrument. He did the same while performing a pastoral melody, as well as in a brilliant improvisation he called ’Nightingale’ where he actually imitated the melodious sound of the lark. 28 (VII_W_0443_ Phon_Kom_ 420). Their interesting interpretations of the traditional Serbian dances – koloes (circle dances) – are particularly impressive. Bearing in mind the different ethnic backgrounds of these musicians, a search for these instrumental tunes in musical publications, sound archives and through field work could cast light on many issues that concern not only the origin of the melodies, but also their status in cross-influences between folkloric heritages of different cultures. Although the aksak rhythm is not characteristic of Serbian musical folklore, especially not of the folklore of Central Serbia, the wartime phonographic corpus contains some tunes which reflect the inter-penetration of metrorhythmic structure between the Serbian and another neighbouring nation. Biserka Kolo,29 in the dactylic form 7/16 (3+2+2) is such an example (VII_W_0461_Phon_Kom_438):
General morphological features30 Considering the period of a century since the musical folklore material of the Serbian prisoners was recorded, one can say that this body reveals some mor- phological features shared with the Serbian traditional music of the latter half of the 20th century, and, to a lesser extent, the music of today. One of the funda-
27 See footnote 20. 28 A similar phenomenon in Serbian folklore has been pointed out by Dimitrije Golemović (Dimitrije O. Golemović, “Kad instrument progovori”, Etnomuzikološki ogledi, Beograd, Biblioteka XX vek, 1997, 232). 29 The documentation provided fails to cite the title. 30 The analysis of the morphological features of this musical folklore corpus is hampered due to the fact that many examples were recorded fragmentarily, for one wax cylinder could only record about two minutes of a text/music.
34 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
35 New Sound 51, I /2018 mental common elements is the poetic basis on which the lines of the recorded songs have been shaped.31 This is to say that the tunes of all the recorded epic songs follow the pattern of an asymmetrical decasyllable (4+6), and so do some of the lyrical and satirical songs (VII_W0434_Phon_Kom_411; VII_W0432_ Phon_Kom_409;). A number of songs, mostly old town songs (varoške pesme), alternately use two types of versification, e.g. the symmetrical octosyllable (4+4) and the heptametre (4+3) (VII_W_0458_Phon_Kom_ 435); however, more than two types can also be found within one and the same song, e.g. nine metrical feet (5+4), hexametre (3+3), octosyllable (5+3) and heptametre (3+4) (VII_W_0439_Phon_Kom_ 416). Hence the prevalence of the heterometric and heterorhythmic structure in the examples of the vocal/vocal-instrumental tradi- tion, regardless of the genre the songs fall within. Of the rhyiming schemes, the couplet (aabbcc) occurs most frequently, but the alternating scheme (abab) is found in some old town songs due to the influence of art poetry. In the analysed songs, refrains at the end of lines and mid-verse ones are found, but not as a fre- quent occurrence (VII_W_0841_Phon_Kom_805; VII_W_0440_Phon_Kom_ 417). The line-ending refrain prevails as an inseparable part of the melopoetic whole and is therefore considered to be ‘dependent’.32 It is usually formed so as to follow one or two melostichs within a melopoetic whole. The poetic texts of the epic songs are performed usually in the routine and easily identifiable voice of the Serbian gusle players (guslars), i.e. as a musi- cal model which can even today be identified in the Serbian musical folklore treasury. The performing style varies, however, and is in correlation with the rhythmical systems. Thus, a melismatic or mildly melismatic performing style characteris es the epic songs that fall within the parlando rubato rhytmical system, while a syllabic style of performance is typical for those in the giusto syllabic rhythmical style.33 As for other folklore genres, such as lyrical, satiri- cal, patriotic, combat songs or old town songs, their characteristics imply that each poetic text (lyirics) has a tune of its own. Hence the diversity of tone rows, ranging from the archaic ones such as pentachordia and hexachordia – via the Mixolydian, Aeolian or Dorian modes (with a fluctuation or alternation of some degrees and, not rarely, with an augmented second as an Oriental coloration) –
31 In the opinion of some scholars, the lines in the Serbian songs were shaped within the syl- labic-tonal versification system (Сања Радиновић,Морфологија српских народних песама 1, Beograd, Hema Kheya Neye, 2017, 8). 32 Cf. Димитрије O. Големовић, Рефрен у народном певању (од обреда до забаве), Београд, Реноме – Бјелина, Бања Лука, Академија уметности, 2000, 35. 33 Cf. Nice Fracile, “The Manners of Performance in Historical Recordings of Serbian and Romanian Traditional Music”, op. cit., 157–160.
36 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed... to the tonal structures which tend towards the major or minor mode (Examples 1, 2). In the instrumental music, tone rows are conditioned by the construction- al/technical potential of particular instruments – frula, bagpipe, dvojnci, violin (Example 3). Some tones in the tone rows here function as ornaments and in- clude appoggiatura, less often Nachschlag, single or double pralltrillers, mor- dents, trillers, Gypsy trillers (refers to violinists) and gruppetto. In addition to the said embellishments, the means of expression used in the performances by the three excellent violinists mentioned above (Jefta Marinković, Mihajlo Kostić and Miloš Radulović) are manifest in the performing/interpretative manner of the professional ‘pub-musicians’ who show superb playing technique, inspired and spontaneous improvisation, the lively practice of nuances and rich articula- tion: portato, staccato, pizzicato, flageolet tones etc. In his early 20th century study “Cigani u Srbiji” (“The Gypsies in Serbia”), Vladimir Đorđević wrote: “Although the Gypsies have not been the sole ‘car- riers’ of Romanian music in Serbia, for it also arrived here with the Romanian people themselves, they doubtlessly deserve the greatest credit for that, as its best interpreters and as accomplished musicians. Coming to Serbia, they fos- tered Romanian music here, especially in Eastern Serbia where Romanians live en masse”.34 Bearing in mind that Romanies often declared their nationality as one of the other peoples, the question arises of whether the three above-men- tioned violinists were Romanians or Romanies. The formal shaping of the examples of vocal and vocal-instrumental tra- dition shows extreme diversity, ranging from those based on the varied repe- tition of one melodic-rhythmical motif or one content in terms of the subject, to two, three or even four mutually different melodic sections/contrasting parts (VII_W_0496_Phon_Kom_ 472; VII_W_0437_Phon_Kom_ 414). The form of the instrumental tunes is in correlation with the types of the musical instruments and also with the adroitness and skill of the players themselves. Thus, the tunes performed on the frula or the bagpipes are predominantly shaped on the varied repetition of a single thematic content (VII_W_0456_Phon_Kom_ 433), while those played on the violin by ‘professional’ instrumentalists are built upon two, three or – at times – more contrasting sections (Example 3). The rhythm in the analysed examples is based on the following rhythmic systems: parlando rubato, distributive, giusto syllabic, and aksak. The largest number of the examples of both vocal and vocal-instrumental tradition fall with- in the parlando rubato rhythmic system: it can be identified in the lyrical songs, old town songs, choral and some epic songs, the (recorded) wedding song, as
34 Тихомир Р. Ђорђевић, “Цигани и музика у Србији”, Босанска вила, бр. 3–6, Београд, 1910, 77–78.
37 New Sound 51, I /2018 well as in the instrumental performances of signal, pastoral, epic melodies and improvisations on the violin, frula, bagpipe and gusle. The distributive rhythmic system, mostly of two-part metric structure, is also quite frequent in the lyrical, satirical, patriotic and combat songs, and the tunes for traditional dances, e.g. the kolos ‘Srbijanka’, ‘Kukunjica’, or ‘Sitnica’ – on different musical instru- ments. In a small number of examples one can hear giusto syllabic, basically in some epic songs of an earlier music layer, or the aksak rhythm in dance tunes. It has to be said that during the first decades of the 20th century, and – to some extent – later than that, in many transcriptions of traditional music by sev- eral European composers one could not (despite expectation) detect the existence of the asymmetrical aksak rhythm; this is due to inadequate notational transcrip- tion. Some phonographic recordings of the Serbian prioners of war make the most truthful and probably the earliest evidence that the violinists from/in Serbia had the tunes on their repertoire which fell within that rhythmic system, which was at that time still unknown to the European scholarly public. In the analysed examples, two forms of the aksak rhythm have been identified: dactyloid 7/16 (3+2+2) and anapestoid 7/16 (2+2+3) ones; the latter arrived through the influ- ence of Bulgarian music on Serbian folklore (Example 3, VII_W_0461_Phon_ Kom_ 438; VII_W_0441_Phon_Kom_ 418).35 The metro-rhythmic pulsation of the recorded tunes is another mutually kin- dred or common element that can be recognised in present-day Serbian folklore. It reveals the vitality and continuity, yet also some changes in Serbian traditional music, as well as cross-penetrations of Serbian and other folklores in Southeast- ern Europe.
Conclusion Based on my insight into the available phonographic recordings of some Serbian folk music from the second decade of the 20th century, I find the musical folklore material provided by Georg Schünemann – first deposited and later digitalised at the Ethnological Museum in Berlin – to be of outstanding importance both to scholars and to performers or devotees of Serbian folklore. In all likelihood, this is the largest collection of non-commercial recordings of traditional Serbian mu- sic from the early 20th century, established for scholarly purposes and unique for the fact that the recordings were made in a prison camp, during World War One, and not in times/conditions of peace. Its peculiarity also arises from the fact that
35 For more about this cf. Nice Fracile, “Metroritmički obrasci aksak ritma u multikulturnoj Srbiji kao zajednička nit s folklorom susednih naroda”, Зборник у част Марији Клеут, Нови Сад, Филолошки факултет, 2013, 194–199.
38 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed... some of the Serbian prisoners did not perform on their own instruments but on those which were available in the camp and had been brought from Serbia. An additional issue may be raised: Under what conditions did the informants sing or play, considering the hatred spread through pre-war and wartime propaganda, especially so at the very beginning of the armed conflicts? Fuel (for heating) and food supplies were scarce even for the local citizens, let alone the captives. Scholarly works dealing with prisoners in the Great War inform about the better treatment of Serbian prisoners in Germany than in Bulgaria or Austria-Hungary.36 Yet most of the Serbian informants answered affirmatively to the question of whether they ’sang or spoke into the phonograph with pleasure’. This material which has so far escaped the eye of the public will certainly prove beneficial not only to ethnomusicologists and ethnochoreologists, to folklorists and historians, but also to whoever wishes to learn more about the oral musical heritage and cultural values of the Serbian people. The corpus in question is an invaluable historical document, testifying to the national and cultural identity of the Serbs. In order to round off the picture of the traditional music of the Serbs in early 20th history as a bridge between past and present, it would be recommendable to study and compare the phonographic recordings made by Béla Bartók in 1912 and the above-presented material obtained from the Serbian prisoners of war. Their publication would open the way to multi- faceted research and possibly some fresh conclusions, which would – as said by Susanne Ziegler – provoke further research.37
Works cited
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36 Dalibor Denda, op. cit., 287–288. 37 Susanne Ziegler, “Historijski snimci bosanske muzike u Njemačkim arhivima”, Sedmi međunarodni simpozij Muzika u društvu, Zbornik radova, Sarajevo, Muzikološko društvo FBiH, Muzička akademija u Sarajevu, 2010, 135.
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40 Fracile, N.: The Phonographic Recordings of Traditional Music Performed...
Мокрањац, Стеван Стојановић: Етномузиколошки записи. Прир.: Драгослав Девић (прир.). Београд – Књажевац: Музичко-издавачко предузеће “Нота”, Завод за уџбенике и наставна средства, 1996. Радиновић, Сања: Морфологија српских народних песама 1. Београд: Hema Kheya Neye, 2017. Ракочевић, Селена: Вокална традиција Срба у Доњем Банату. Београд: Завод за уџбенике и наставна средства, Скупштина општине Панчево, 2002. Васиљевић, Миодраг А.: Народне мелодије лесковачког краја. Београд: Српска академија наука, Музиколошки институт,1960. Васиљевић, Миодраг А.: Народне песме из Војводине. Прир.: проф. др Драгослав Девић. Нови Сад: Матица српска, Завод за културу Војводине, 2009. Ziegler, Susanne: “Historijski snimci bosanske muzike u Njemačkim arhivima”. У: Zbornik radova. Sedmi međunarodni simpozij Muzika u društvu. Sarajevo: Muzikološko društvo FBiH, Muzička akademija u Sarajevu, 2010, 142–152.
Summary The phonographic recordings of traditional music performed by Serbian prisoners of war represent a unique and outstandingly valuable source – in terms of quantity, quality and scientific approach – providing material about Serbian folklore from the early 20th cen- tury. These recordings of traditional Serbian songs and instrumental tunes were made by the German researcher Georg Schünemann on the spot in the German camps of Königs- brück and Parchim during World War One (1915–1918). This paper focuses on the exam- ination of the basic poetic/musical features of that material, on the difficulties in deciphering the recordings and identification of the informants, and also on the continuity and changes in the style of performing those songs and instrumental tunes which can still be heard sung and/or played in Serbia – in comparison to the musical folklore material from the early 20th century. The musical folklore material collected by musicologist Georg Schünemann and deposited at the Ethnological Museum in Berlin was recorded by phonograph on 63 wax cylinders. Altogether, there are 85 recorded items taken from 18 Serbian captives: 51 items fall within the vocal or vocal-instrumental tradition, and 34 within the instrumental tradition. They are lyrical, epic and old town songs, as well as patriotic and combat songs; also, there are two choral songs, two inspired by the life of seamen, one wedding song, one serenade, one satirical song and the national anthem entitled God of Justice (Bože pravde). The instrumental corpus predominantly contains the tunes of the traditional songs and dances of the Serbs; others include signal, pastoral, epic melodies and spontaneous improvisations played on the violin, frula, bagpipe, dvojnci and gusle. Based on my insight into the available phonographic recordings of some Serbian folk music from the second decade of the 20th century, I find the musical folklore material provided by Georg Schünemann to be of outstanding importance both to scholars and to
41 New Sound 51, I /2018 performers or devotees of Serbian folklore. In all likelihood, this is the largest collection of non-commercial recordings of traditional Serbian music from the early 20th century, established for scholarly purposes and unique for the fact that the recordings were made in a prison camp, during World War One, and not in times/conditions of peace. Its pecu- liarity also comes from the fact that some of the Serbian prisoners did not perform on their own instruments but on those which were available in the camp and had been brought from Serbia. This material which has so far escaped the eye of the public will certainly prove beneficial not only to ethnomusicologists and ethnochoreologists, to folklorists and historians, but also to whoever wishes to learn more on the oral musical heritage and cultural values of the Serbian people. The corpus in question is an invaluable historical document, testifying to the national and cultural identity of the Serbs. In order to round off the picture of the traditional music of the Serbs in early 20th century history as a bridge between past and present, it would be recommendable to study and compare the phonographic recordings made by Béla Bartók in 1912 and the above-presented material obtained from the Serbian prisoners of war. Their publication would open the way to multi-faceted research and possibly some fresh conclusions, which would – as Susanne Ziegler said – provoke fur- ther research.
42 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere...
Article received on March 13th 2018 Revised version accepted on May 16th 2018 UDC: 784.087.684(497.11)”1951/1971”
Ivana Vesić* Institute of Musicology, Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts
Vesna Peno** Institute of Musicology, Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts
THE STRUCTURAL TRANSFORMATION OF THE SPHERE OF MUSICAL AMATEURISM IN SOCIALIST YUGOSLAVIA: A CASE STUDY OF THE BEOGRADSKI MADRIGALISTI CHOIR1
Abstract: In this paper we focused on investigating how the sphere of musical amateur- ism functioned in Yugoslavia in the decades following the end of WWII. Observing through changes in the role and significance of amateur music ensembles, specifically choirs, in Yugoslav society from the late 1940s until the late 1960s / early 1970s that were manifest in their de-massification, gradual professionalisation and extensive use in cul- tural diplomacy, we sought to explain that this involved multiple factors – above all, the shifts in Yugoslav international policy after the confrontation with the Soviet Union in 1948, and, consequently, the revisions of its cultural policies. Their influence was ob- served through a detailed examination of the activities of the Beogradski madrigalisti choir, from its foundation in 1951 until the late 1960s / early 1970s. Although it was unique among Yugoslav choirs in many respects, the early history of this ensemble clearly reflected the demand for excellence in the sphere of amateur performance from the 1950s onwards, one of the most prominent indicators of its deep structural transformation. Key words: musical amateurism, choral performance, socialist Yugoslavia, cultural di- plomacy, Beogradski madrigalisti choir, professionalisation
* Author contact information: [email protected]. ** Author contact information: [email protected]. 1 This research paper is from the project Identities of Serbian Music from a Global and Local Perspective: Traditions, Changes, Challenges (No. 177004), conducted by the Institute of Musicology SASA (Belgrade) and funded by the Ministry of Education, Science and Techno- logical Development of the Republic of Serbia.
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Introduction The constitution of the Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia (later named the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia) in the aftermath of WWII can be ob- served as a long lasting process of radical change involving the organisation of the state, society, the economy and culture along with the sphere of international affairs.2 The turbulence that periodically occurred in Yugoslav social and politi- cal life from 1945 was very intense in the first decade after the war, when the po- litical elite struggled to impose its visions and goals across various classes and ethnic groups, while at the same time trying to limit the activities of ideological opponents and enemies in the political and public sphere. Two profoundly inter- twined processes, unfolding together – one marked by the ambition to create a deeply transformed Yugoslav state, nation, society and culture compared to its interwar predecessor and the other, a continuation of the ‘state of war’ inside the Yugoslav borders, left a specific imprint on the different domains of society in this period, which also reverberated in many ways in the spheres of art and culture. This phase of ‘naked’ repression, aimed at achieving a social consensus by means of physical force and aggressive propaganda in order to eliminate the ‘enemies from within’ and spread new beliefs, values and hierarchies, changed course in December 1948, soon after the political rupture with the Soviet Union. Emerging as a result of resistance to the hegemonic aspirations of the Soviets, this event signaled a turnabout in the early history of the second Yugoslavia. In severing diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union, the main political, cultural and economic partner of Yugoslavia from the end of WWII, the political establishment faced numerous challenges in the spheres of state security, trade, education, finance and so on, which, judging by historical research, gradually led to relinquishing the pre-1948 practices of fierce confrontation with politi- cal opponents and the repression of social and cultural tendencies that failed to
2 For the purpose of this research we used the results of previous historical investigations about Yugoslav political life, diplomatic relations and cultural policies after WWII. The most valuable were the following: Branko Petranović, Istorija Jugoslavije: 1918–1988, Vol. 3, Socijalistička Jugoslavija, Beograd, Nolit, 1988; Ljubodrag Dimić, Agitprop kultura: agit- propovska faza kulturne politike u Srbiji: 1945–1952, Beograd, Rad, 1988; Goran Milora- dović, Lepota pod nadzorom: sovjetski kulturni uticaji u Jugoslaviji, 1945–1955, Beograd, Institut za savremenu istoriju, 2012; Miroslav Perišić, Diplomatija i kultura. Jugoslavija: prelomna 1950. Jedno istorijsko iskustvo, Beograd, Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, Narodna biblioteka Srbije, 2013; Ljubodrag Dimić (ed)., Velike sile i male države u Hladnom ratu 1945–1955: slučaj Jugoslavije, Beograd, Filozofski fakultet, Arhiv Srbije i Crne Gore, Insti- tut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2005; Group of authors, Jugoslavija–SSSR: susreti i razgovori na najvišem nivou rukovodilaca Jugoslavije i SSSR, 1946–1964, Vol. 1, Beograd:,Arhiv Jugo- slavije, Službeni glasnik, 2014.
44 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere... conform with the dominant ideology.3 Instead of strictly controlling the different realms of activity in society such as, for instance, cultural and artistic production and scientific research, the Communist Party leaders gradually adopted a policy of monitoring these realms, constantly shifting the boundaries of what was so- cially and politically acceptable, and what was forbidden. Actually, the type of open and direct repression was slowly but steadily replaced by a more sophisti- cated form which, instead of physical punishment and social ostracisation, relied more on self-censorship and the adoption of new societal norms and order. The turmoil characteristic of the period of ‘prolonged war’ and ‘revolution- ary peace’ had a more or less direct impact on the different social spheres. It was reflected in the structure and functioning of the sphere of art and culture through an internal struggle, ‘disciplining practices’ from within or from external in- stances, the specific hierarchy of values, the status of individuals, and traditions, etc. The revolutionary ethos became the cornerstone on which early Yugoslav arts and culture were firmly built. It was manifest through their massification, popularisation and ‘secularisation’ along with centralisation, homogenisation and de-autonomisation. As it underwent a transformation in the early 1950s, af- ter ‘severing relations’ with the Soviet Union and narrowing the gap with West- ern capitalist countries, its more pacifistic version appeared in the form of Yu- goslav socialist society, culture and arts as a unique blend of Soviet and Western European political, economic, cultural and artistic models and policies. Since arts and culture contributed to the process of building the new, rev- olutionary Yugoslav society after WWII both in its ‘radical’ and ‘moderate’ phase, the investigation of different dimensions of artistic and cultural life in the first post-WWII decades can help in understanding its complexity, including the antagonisms, inconsistencies, continuities and discontinuities. Apart from that, the exploration of artistic and cultural undertakings in this period makes it pos- sible to analyse and explain relations between the political and social strivings on the one hand, and the functioning of the artistic and cultural spheres on the other hand. In order to partly evaluate these phenomena, we decided to focus our research on one of the numerous amateur ensembles that were founded in Yugo- slavia after WWII called the Beogradski madrigalisti (Belgrade madrigalists).
3 On the transformation of policies in the sphere of politics, culture and international rela- tions in Yugoslavia in the decade after WWII, see Branko Petranović, “Odbrana nezavisno- sti”, op. cit., 195–262; Miroslav Perišić, op. cit., 21–48; Ljubodrag Dimić, “Ideology and culture in Yugoslavia (1945–1955)”, in: Ljubodrag Dimić (ed.), Velike sile i male države u Hladnom ratu 1945–1955…, op. cit., 303–320; Ljubomir Petrović, “Kulturni sukob blokova tokom Hladnog rata u jugoslovenskoj prestonici 1945–1955,” in: Ljubodrag Dimić (ed.), op. cit., 321–342; Svetozar Rajak, “In search of a life outside the two blocs: Yugoslavia’s road to non-alignement,” in: Ljubodrag Dimić (ed.), op. cit., 84–105.
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There are several reasons for choosing the mentioned choir as the ‘case’ for our investigation. To begin with, it was founded in the transitory period of the first, ‘revolutionary’ decade of Yugoslav society, which enabled us to take a closer look at the tendencies both in the sphere of amateur artistic and music perfor- mance, as well as in the domain of the mass education and cultural emancipation of the working and lower classes. Besides, we were able to observe the influence of the modifications of Yugoslav internal policies along with international rela- tions and cultural diplomacy from 1945 onwards. Although, in many respects unique among amateur choirs at the time – with able singers, musically educated conductors, and a repertoire dedicated mostly to the genre of sacred music – the Beogradski madrigalisti effectively show how the sociocultural shifts in social- ist Yugoslavia were reflected in the changing role of amateur art and- perfor mance in the decades following the end of WWII. As we shall point out in this paper, this specific and important segment of Yugoslav musical and cultural life underwent deep structural changes that gradually led to its exclusivistic config- uration. Moreover, musical amateurism not only became less accessible to the masses in the course of time but it also lost its emancipatory potential. Instead of helping the cultural elevation of the workers and peasants, it mainly started to serve for promoting the Yugoslav model of society abroad. The case study of the Beogradski madrigalisti encompassed two research steps. Especially important was the reconstruction of how this choir functioned from its foundation to the beginning of the 1970s, which was based on data col- lected from the published memorials of the ensemble (1976, 1991)4 as well as reports and articles from leading music journals (Muzika, Zvuk, Savremeni akor- di, Pro Musica) and the daily press of the time (Borba, Politika). Parallel to that, it was necessary to examine Yugoslav cultural policies after WWII with a focus on the problem of the social positioning and functioning of amateur choral and folk ensembles. For that purpose we examined the available archive materials (Archives of Yugoslavia, Committee for Arts and Culture of the FPRY, F314) as well as the mentioned dailies and periodicals. Before we discuss the problem of the manifestations and influences of Yu- goslav revolutionary and post-revolutionary policies in the sphere of amateur art after WWII, using the Beogradski madrigalisti as a paradigm, it is necessary to consider its first twenty years of existence, pointing to the dominant aesthetical aspirations, repertoire strategies and status on the national and the international scene.
4 Beogradski madrigalisti 1951–1976, Beograd, Radiša Timotić, 1976; Milko Štimac (ed.), Beogradski madrigalisti 1951–1991, Beograd, Compuscan, 1991.
46 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere...
Beogradski madrigalisti: An overview of its first two decades Owing to the published memorials of Beogradski madrigalisti on the ensem- ble’s 25th and 40th anniversary which consisted of biographies of the conduc- tors, their testimonies on the choir’s activities from the 1950s to the 1980s and the lists of concert performances in Yugoslavia and abroad, along with data from other sources, it was possible to discern several distinctive phases in its activities, mainly due to the discontinuities in the aesthetical and interpretation- al preferences of its conductors and artistic committees. These phases were the result of the transformation of the artistic approach of the ensemble’s leaders and, concurrently, of the gradual change in its status in the Yugoslav public and cultural sphere. Besides, they were a reflection of the intertwining processes in the spheres of politics, culture, art and music in and outside Yugoslavia, which will be discussed in the following chapter. An analysis of the repertoire of the Beogradski madrigalisti along with its national and international concert activities shows at least three phases in the first twenty years since its foundation. Coincidentally or not, their disparity and de- lineation coincided very much with the work of four different conductors whose aesthetical views seem to have profoundly shaped the ensemble’s ‘profile.’ The first phase (1951–59) was a period when the Beogradski madrigalisti choir was led by an experienced conductor and composer, Milan Bajšanski, while in the second phase (1959–64) a musicologist, Dimitrije Stefanović, took the leading role. In the final phase (1964–71), the leadership was handed to two conductors – first to Vojislav Ilić (1964–67) and then to the renowned Dušan Miladinović. Each phase was marked by a certain tendency either in the domain of con- cert performance, repertoire choice or national and international competition. Therefore, one of the greatest priorities in the first phase was the involvement in Yugoslav cultural diplomacy in Western European countries along with the creation of the repertoire frame, whereas in the second phase it was the popu- larisation of academic studies of Byzantine music and the public presentation of the earliest music from Yugoslav territory that gained attention. The third phase, by contrast, was marked by an inclination towards the semi-professionalisation of the ensemble, which encompassed broadening the repertoire together with improving the ensemble’s performance quality. The idea of founding the Beogradski madrigalisti in conjunction with set- ting its artistic goals and identity in the sphere of amateurism in Yugoslavia came from the respected conductor and artist, Milan Bajšanski, whose career started during the interwar period. Bajšanski demonstrated an interest and ability in working with amateur vocal ensembles soon after he finished his studies at
47 New Sound 51, I /2018 the (secondary) Music School in Belgrade.5 His collaboration with the amateur ‘Abrašević’ choir was particularly significant, since it was part of one ofthe largest organisations dedicated to the cultural emancipation of the workers in interwar Yugoslavia (United Workers’ Artistic Groups ‘Abrašević’), along with the professional choir of Radio Belgrade, both before and after WWII (1937–41, 1944–46, 1948–51).6 There is no doubt that Bajšanski’s considerable experience with vocal ensembles, both amateur and professional, contributed to the quality of the performance of the Beogradski madrigalisti in the first eight years follow- ing its foundation and to the successes in the Yugoslav sphere of amateur music performance. Apart from that, it was Bajšanski’s choice of repertoire that made this ensemble unique on the Yugoslav music scene. Unlike the growing number of ensembles founded in the post-WWI period, whose conductors and artistic directors favoured mass songs and choral pieces inspired by the celebrated and heroic narodno oslobodilačka borba (People’s Liberation Struggle), Bajšanski was focused on a capella works by composers from various historical periods and traditions. He chose three variants of repertoire – one that consisted of sa- cred pieces by Renaissance masters, the second was based on the madrigals of Italian, Flemish and French composers, and the third included the secular and sacred works of Yugoslav composers. The combination of the uncommon choice of repertoire together with the meticulous approach to the ensemble’s performance resulted, on the one hand, in gradual public recognition, and, on the other hand, in building a good reputation among the state officials. The first significant indicator of the choir’s increasing prominence was its selection for the International Music Festival in Arezzo in 1956, along with several other amateur ensembles from the different Yugoslav regions. The symbolic reward for the efforts of the Beogradski madrigalisti by the officials certainly represented a turning-point in its first phase. Among other things, it opened the way to the ensemble’s active participation on the local and international music scene and placed it among the numerous mediators of Yugo- slav cultural diplomacy. Apart from the important contribution to cultural diplomacy, the activities of the Beogradski madrigalisti which continued in the second and third phase, other tendencies that manifested themselves in the late 1950s and throughout the 1960s in the artistic efforts of its conductors and directors were also very significant. For instance, some major modifications in the functioning of the en-
5 Cf. “Bajšanski, Milan”, in: Muzička enciklopedija, Vol. 1, Krešimir Kovačević (ed.), Za- greb, Jugoslavenski leksikografski zavod, 1971, 114; B. Đaković, “Bajšanski, Milan”, in: Srpski biografski rečnik, Vol. 1, Čedomir Popov (ed.), Novi Sad, Matica srpska, 2004, 367. 6 B. Đaković, op. cit., 367.
48 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere... semble were introduced during the second phase when the young musicologist, Dimitrije Stefanović, assumed a leading role. Stefanović’s interest in the scien- tific research of Byzantine music from Yugoslav territory resulted not only in repertoire changes, but also in the ensemble’s usual concert activities. Namely, in that period the Beogradski madrigalisti started to participate in various ac- ademic events, including scientific conferences and congresses, illustrating in sound epochs from the distant past. For example, it took part in the 12th World Congress of Byzantine Studies in Ohrid, Macedonia (1961), then in the Con- gress of Yugoslav Conservators-Restaurateurs in Hopovo, Vojvodina (1962) and, finally, in the International Conference on the Origins of Slavic Musical Culture, in Bratislava (1964). This practice continued after Stefanović left the ensemble in 1964. Stefanović’s contributions to the remodelling of the repertoire were signifi- cant. Beside the inclusion of Renaissance English madrigals, his focus on the sa- cred compositions of distinguished modern Serbian authors (Kornelije Stankov- ić, Stevan Mokranjac, Josif Marinković, Stevan Hristić, Petar Konjović, Marko Tajčević), along with the early music from Yugoslavia that belonged to the Byz- antine music tradition was of great importance. In this respect, the rendition of the sacred piece Ninje sili (‘Now the powers’) from the 15th century written by Kir Stefan Srbin, who is believed to be the oldest known Serbian composer, rep- resented an event of historical value. It was performed during the opening part of the 12th World Congress of Byzantine Studies in Ohrid in 1961 together with a Greek song from the 13th century, a hymn dedicated to Saint Clement of Ohrid and the Russian harmonisation of the Greek version of Psalm 103.7 The unusual intermingling of scholarly and artistic aspirations that appeared in the second phase accentuated once more the distinctiveness of the Beograds- ki madrigalisti from other amateur choir ensembles in Yugoslavia, which was noticeable from its foundation. Its distinctiveness, especially in the choice of repertoire, was preserved in the third phase which was marked by the ambition to elevate the ensemble’s quality of performance. This was particularly visible in the efforts of Dušan Miladinović, whose vast experience in conducting the mon- umental operatic and instrumental works written by Russian and European com-
7 Dimitrije Stefanović, “Ohridski vizantološki kongres i muzikologija”, Zvuk, No. 52, 1962, 165. As stated by Melita Milin in her paper “Orthodox Sacred Music as an Undesirable Seg- ment of Tradition in Communist Yugoslavia” (published in: Stefan Keym and Stephan Wün- sche (ed.), Musikgeschichte zwischen Ost und West: von der ‘musica sacra’ bis zur Kunstreli- gion. Festschrift für Helmut Loos zum 65. Geburtstag, Leipzig, Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2015, 231), Kir Stefan Srbin’s piece was, on this occasion, performed solo by a musicologist and chanter Andreja Jakovljević without the participation of a choir.
49 New Sound 51, I /2018 posers probably influenced the inclusion of technically more demanding choral and vocal-instrumental pieces in the ensemble’s concert programs. In that con- text, it is important to mention his concentration on the works of contemporary Yugoslav artists of the middle and younger generation (for example, Konstantin Babić, Mihovil Logar, Rajko Maksimović, Predrag Milošević, Aleksandar Ob- radović, Stanojlo Rajičić, Vojislav Simić, etc.), along with the works of Rus- sian composers of sacred music (Pyotr Tchaikovsky, Alexander Arkhangelsky, Dmitry Bortniansky, Pavel Tchesnokov, Rodion Shchedrin, etc.) and, finally, the canonical monumental works from the Baroque and Classical era (Bach’s Mass in A major and Christmas Cantata, Handel’s Passion According to St. John, Vi- valdi’s Gloria, Mozart’s Coronation Mass, etc.).8 It is evident from the available sources that Miladinović wished to pro- mote the ensemble’s competence not only by widening the repertoire but also by increasing the number of concerts in the national and the international are- na. Thus, in that period the ensemble took part in numerous festivals, exhibi- tions, congresses, symposiums, memorials, anniversaries and ceremonial acade- mies in Yugoslavia and abroad. Since 1965, the Beogradski madrigalisti started regularly touring the European countries and the countries of the Eastern Bloc while they also became standard participants in the most important Yugoslav choral and artistic manifestations.9 Certainly, one of the culminating points in this phase was reached in 1970 with a concert of sacred music that took place in St. Paul’s Basilica (Rome) in the presence of Pope Paul VI and Vatican state of- ficials. The concert, together with an exhibition entitled ‘Serbian Medieval Art’ represented an event of enormous political significance, symbolically marking the restoration of diplomatic ties between Yugoslavia and the Vatican state after eighteen years of frosty relations. Finally, another important contribution by Miladinović, along with his pre- decessor, Vojislav Ilić, was the revival of concert perfomances of integral ver- sions of the liturgies by some of the most influential modern Serbian compos- ers, which had been interrupted after WWII. The breakthrough happened first in 1966, when Vojislav Ilić conducted Stevan Mokranjac’s Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom in Perugia during the festival Sagra musicale and, subsequently, in 1967 when the same piece was performed in one of the most prestigious concert halls in Yugoslavia, Belgrade’s Kolarac Hall, with Dušan Miladinović conduct- ing the ensemble.10
8 Milko Štimac, op. cit., 8–11. 9 Ibid., 17–22. 10 The activities of the Beogradski madrigalisti in the 1970s, 1980s and early 1990s were not considered in this paper because we decided to focus on manifestations of the ‘good indica-
50 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere...
Musical amateurism and Yugoslav (socialist) cultural policies – a contraversial relationship? A glance at the Beogradski madrigalisti choir From the foundation of the Beogradski madrigalisti in 1951 until the late sixties, when Dušan Miladinović became its conductor, musical amateurism in Yugoslavia went through several stages of development. All of them reflected on the functioning of this ensemble and were manifested in the gradual transforma- tion of the artistic aims of its conductors and artistic committees, along with the type and frequency of its participation in the Yugoslav and international music spheres. Looking at the post-WWII period, especially at the first two decades, it is possible to notice the correlation between the changes in the Yugoslav geo- political position and the shifts in the sphere of musical amateurism. Namely, it is obvious that before the major split with the Soviet Union and the countries of the Eastern Bloc in 1948, Yugoslav officials tried to apply the Soviet model of cultural emancipation, including its methods, policies and ideological ground- ing which resulted, among other things, in the expansion of all sorts of amateur arts. It was believed that dealing with art in a direct manner – through active performance or production – was indispensable for the intellectual enhancement of the masses, together with the appropriation of the new ‘revolutionary’ ethos. This assumption in conjunction with the view that the oppressed masses, who were mostly excluded from different kinds of intellectual endeavours in inter- war Yugoslav society,11 needed access to the cultural and artistic spheres both as tors in musical amateurism’s structural transformation and its consequences. The boundary was set to 1970 and the events surrounding the Yugoslav-Vatican rapproachement although the actual ‘symbolic closure’ of this process occurred several years earlier with the founda- tion of the biannual Yugoslav Choral Festivities in Niš (Jugoslovenske horske svečanosti) in 1966. This festival marked a transition to a more nuanced approach to national (federal) rep- resentation compared to the previous period (see the discussion in the following chapter). On the aims and goals of the initiators of this specific occasion that combined the competition of amateur choirs and workshops on the interpretation of choral music and its analysis, see Anonyomous, “Niš – jugoslovenski Areco?”, Pro Musica, No. 18, 1966, 8. 11 The conclusion from the partially presented findings of research of the archival and pub- lished sources (Cf. Ivana Vesić, Konstruisanje srpske muzičke tradicije u periodu između dva svetska rata: uloga ideoloških podela u srpskoj političkoj i intelektualnoj eliti, unpu- blished Ph. D. Diss., Beograd, Filozofski fakultet Univerziteta u Beogradu, 2016), is that musical amateurism was not of central importance to Yugoslav interwar authorities and was limited by the unsystematic work of certain state organisations. The most fruitful efforts in that context were those of representatives of the Soko Kraljevine Jugoslavije (Soko of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia) organisation, which supported the creation of amateur folk or- chestras both in urban and rural parts of the country and the appropriation of Yugoslav folk
51 New Sound 51, I /2018 consumers and participants, served to encourage the establishment of amateur music, folk and drama ensembles as well as the proliferation of amateur artistic production. According to the testimonies of various artists of the time,12 music ensem- bles, especially amateur choirs, flourished throughout Yugoslavia – in villages, small and large towns and republican and provincial centres soon after WWII. As the majority of them remarked, choral amateurism went through a consider- able transformation as a result of the process of massification. Distinct types of choral ensembles – male, female, mixed, children’s, adolescent – were expand- ing rapidly, becoming part of either youth, workers’ or peasants’ organisations who were the principal mediators of the policies of cultural emancipation.13 Beside these ‘dilettante’ troupes that contributed significantly to the develop- ment of the amateur choral scene, an important role in this process belonged to the spontaneously created vocal ensembles founded during the numerous Youth Work Drives in the late 1940s.14 While the first post-WWII years were marked by the lack of clearly defined strategies, methods and goals in the sphere of amateurism, signs of change were becoming visible in the end of the decade. At that point, in 1948 and 1949 to be exact, the initiatives for more firmly coordinated work in the process of the cultural advancement of the masses started to appear in the public discourse.15 dances by the masses (Cf. Ibid, 132–133, 148–150). In contrast, exceptional results in the development of musical amateurism – primarily the expansion of rural choirs and choral sin- ging – were achieved by the opponents of Yugoslav cultural policies at that time, the Croatian music experts, intellectuals and political activists assembled in the Association of Croatian Choral Societies (Croatian Choral Union). Using the specific political platform mostly based on the program of the Croatian Peasant Party as the cornerstone, together with choral per- formance that represented a means for both political propaganda and cultural emancipation, the Association’s leaders successfully expanded the number of choral ensembles in the rural areas, making this type of performance and production broadly accepted among Croatian peasants (Cf. Naila Ceribašić, Hrvatsko, seljačko, starinsko i domaće: Povijest i etnografija javne prakse narodne glazbe u Hrvatskoj, Zagreb, Institut za etnologiju i folkloristiku, 2003). Although the Croatian interwar elite created a promising approach to musical amateurism, it seems that the post-WWII Yugoslav elite did not learn much from their experience. 12 Oskar Danon, “Uloga savremene muzike u društvu”, Muzika, No. 1, 1948, 12; Dragotin Cvetko, “Slovenačka muzička produkcja i reprodukcija: 1945–1948 (II)”, Muzika, No. 3, 1949, 61–62; Mihovil Logar and Aleksandar Obradović, “Srbija”, Zvuk, No. 11–12, 1957, 7. 13 Dragotin Cvetko, op.cit., 61–62; Andreja Preger, “Muzički život i uloga reproduktivnih muzičkih umetnika u novoj Jugoslaviji”, Muzika, No. 5, 1951, 123. 14 Mihailo Vukdragović, “Muzika na Festivalu narodne omladine Jugoslavije”, Muzika, No. 2, 1949, 81. 15 Ljubodrag Dimić, op. cit., 229–239.
52 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere...
The idea of creating a centralised and bureaucratised model in order to articulate and impose the policies of emancipation of the Yugoslav population were ful- filled through the establishment of cultural-artistic societies, the popular KUDs (kulturno-umetnička društva), along with their associations at the republican and federal level, which technically enabled strict control of the repertoire and artis- tic policies of amateur ensembles. Apart from the KUDs, the tendency to regu- late amateurism from the ’top-down’ through the cooperation of the segments of the bureaucratic apparatus and experts became apparent in the foundation of festivals of amateur art. Their main purpose was to create guidelines not only for conductors and singers of established amateur choirs, but also for the members of orchestral troupes and theatrical groups based on expert knowledge.16 Apart from an advisory role, festivals served to insert a competitive element in the sphere of amateurism in order to stimulate the improvement of the quality of performance of choirs and other amateur ensembles as well as the skills of their members and conductors. Instead of the spontaneous progress of amateur art with the emphasis on ‘sensitising’ individuals and groups to creative artistic processes and the ‘internalisation’ of revolutionary narratives and values charac- teristic of the first years of the post-WWII period, a new course that took shape in the late 1940s revealed the determination of intellectuals and bureaucrats to approach this part of the cultural sphere in a more systematic manner. It includ- ed the evaluation of the skills and knowledge of conductors of existing vocal ensembles, a quest for talented and educated musicians who could take a leading role in the foundation of new ensembles, the periodical critical assessment of choirs at the federal level, etc. The orientation towards the formalisation and ‘disciplining’ of the amateur artistic and musical scene in this period can be confirmed in the observations of Mihailo Vukdragović, one of the leading music experts in the post-WWII Yugoslavia, and this includes the sphere of choral performance. Namely, Vuk- dragović, who closely surveyed the establishment of the first competitions of amateur choirs such as the Festival of Peoples’ Youth in 1949, thought of them as an opportunity ‘to bring together experts and youth performers in less formal collaboration’ for the mutual benefit – amateurs would profit from the judgement of connoisseurs about their performing skills, both positive and negative, while cultural workers and intellectuals would be able to gain a creative impetus from a talented and enthusiastic youth.17 Since there were great discrepancies in the abilities of choirs who participated in this festival which was, in Vukdragović’s opinion, the result of distinctions in the level of the musical education of con-
16 Mihailo Vukdragović, op. cit., 82. 17 Ibid.
53 New Sound 51, I /2018 ductors and their abilities, he suggested their meticulous selection by the au- thorities. This process required the involvement of local, republican and federal organisations, state bodies and music professionals. The transformative processes that appeared in the sphere of amateurism in the late 1940s were interrupted in part owing to radical changes in cultural poli- cies initiated in the Third Plenum of the Central Committee of the Socialist Party of Yugoslavia in the end of 1949.18 Although the rejection of the Soviet model of culture as well as the centralisation and bureaucratisation of the cultural sphere brought an end to various practices and institutions from the previous period, certain elements of ‘revolutionary’ culture continued to exist in the new socio- cultural context. While a tendency towards a less rigid approach in the cultur- al sphere with emphasis on flexibility, diversity and dynamism were noticeable from the early 1950s, especially in cultural production, the stance that amateur performing needed ’guidance from above’ persisted in this period. Moreover, it seems that it became even more pronounced owing to the gradual improvement of diplomatic relations with countries outside the Eastern Bloc which, among other things, led to growing interest among the authorities in the cultural repre- sentation of Yugoslavia. Considering the importance attached to the promotion of Yugoslav socialist society in the non-socialist states during the 1950s and 1960s, in which amateur performances had a crucial role, it is not surprising that this sphere was placed under the strict supervision of the Yugoslav political and cultural elite. Actually, as the amount and scope of international tours by Yugoslav amateur ensembles proliferated, the procedure of selection of the ensembles by the authorities be- came more complex and formalised. For instance, while during the early 1950s amateur choirs or dance ensembles that performed abroad were not subjected to strictly defined methods of evaluation,19 by the end of the decade the Yugoslav
18 Ljubodrag Dimić, op. cit., 241; Branko Petranović, op. cit., 316–331. 19 According to the report of Dimitrije Stefanović (“Polifona muzika u Arezzu”, Zvuk, No. 4–5, 1955, 199), choirs from Yugoslavia underwent examination by the Commission for Cul- tural Relations with Foreign Countries which was also responsible for the selection of the jury member who represented Yugoslavia at international music festivals. Still, it seems that the procedure of delegation underwent changes in the late 1950s and early 1960s and became more complex. Eventually, it involved teams of experts and several cycles of selection. As claimed by the press reports, the main role in this process was taken over by the Cultural-ed- ucational Council of Yugoslavia, its Comission for International Cultural Relations and its Secretariat. This body in cooperation with its republican and provincial departments was in charge of the delegation of amateur ensembles for international festivals and competitions. The procedure was based on the selection of ensembles at the republican level, which were subsequently evaluated by a jury of experts appointed by the Commission. The role of the
54 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere... authorities established special bodies at the local, republican and federal level whose chief task was to select the proper ensembles for international representa- tion on the basis of clearly outlined criteria.20 Teams of experts and bureaucrats under the supervision of the Commission for International Cultural Relations were required periodically to organise auditions for amateur ensembles in or- der to single out the ones with high performing qualities and, at the same time, maintain the necessary ‘ethnic balance.’ The aim was to delegate the most ca- pable choirs and dance troupes from each republic in order to demonstrate the proficiency of Yugoslav cultural policies in cultivating high standards of perfor- mance, as well as making cultural and artistic products and practices accessible to the traditionally, socially disadvantaged groups (workers and peasants). The approach of the Yugoslav political elite to the process of internation- al cultural representation, including the procedures of selecting individuals, ensembles and troupes during the 1950s had a great impact, inter alia, on the sphere of amateurism, encouraging its thorough transformation. Since interna- tional competitions and concert tours became an important means for politicians to gain a reputation and prestige, this had an effect on the work of the existing amateur ensembles at various levels and on the process of founding new ensem- bles. First of all, the fact that being chosen to represent Yugoslavia abroad meant winning public attention along with promotion in the national press, periodical auditions organised by the authorities in the late 1950s put great pressure on the members of the ensembles to ‘do their best’ both by working on individual ac- complishment and on the quality of collective performance over a longer period. In addition, it encouraged the adoption of the concepts of ‘success’ and ‘failure’ in a sphere that had been free, for a long time, of the demand for excellence and competitiveness. There is no doubt that this specific attitude contributed greatly to the de- cline of amateurism among the massess in Yugoslavia and discouraged the es- tablishment of new ensembles as well as the survival of the existing ensembles especially in the culturally and economically less developed parts of the country which were unable to provide skillful vocalists and dancers, as well as well-ed-
Commission was to create annual plans for international representation as well as for na- tional events and anniversaries. See S. B., “Hor ‘Proletera’ putuje krajem mjeseca u Areco,” Oslobođenje, 14 August 1958, 4; M. V., “Određeni ansambli za amaterske festivale u inos- transtvu”, Borba, 22 April 1961, 7; Anonymous, “Jugoslovenski horovi ponovo pozvani u Langolen i Areco”, Politika, 22 February 1963, 10; Anonymous, “Pripreme za takmičenje horova u Arecu”, Politika, 29 March 1963, 10; Anonymous, “Amaterski ansambli iz Beogra- da, Maribora i Sarajeva na festivalu u Langolenu”, Politika, 29 March 1963, 10. 20 See the previous footnote.
55 New Sound 51, I /2018 ucated conductors and choreographers. Consequently, the marginalisation of non-urban and ‘peripheral’ ensembles, and less competent ensembles occurred during the 1950s which became noticeable after formal auditions were initiated. More adept ensembles were compelled to adjust their schedules of performance, choice of repertoire and membership policies to the new standards and require- ments of state officials and experts, which gradually led to their semi-profes- sionalisation. While participation in amateur performance particularly in amateur choirs rapidly declined from the early 1950s till the late 1960s, which is confirmed by the reports of music experts and journalists,21 the adoption of strategies that led to attaining an influential social position and symbolic rewards was char- acteristic of choral ensembles which had higher standards. This process is well illustrated by the functioning of the Beogradski madrigalisti choir from its foun- dation until the end of 1960s. What is noticeable from the formation of the mentioned choir is the involve- ment of musically well-educated or professional conductors all of whom had ex- perience with vocal ensembles. The tendency to hire highly qualified musicians for the purpose of preparing amateur choirs to perform publicly was not unusual in the early 1950s especially for the more ambitious ensembles living in urban areas or in the republican centres. If we analyse the trajectory of the Beogradski madrigalisti up to the 1970s it is possible to observe the tendency to appoint more experienced conductors with a broader knowledge of the repertoire of vo- cal (and vocal-instrumental) music, who were capable of changing the ‘routines’ of performance, the selection of programs, etc. The culminating point in this process was reached with the appointment of Dušan Miladinović, who was at the time famous for his work in the domain of operatic performance, traditional- ly one of the most prestigious segments of art music performance. This decision by the choir’s Artistic Committee clearly was the expression of a long-term goal to improve the performing quality of the ensemble and, consequently, to acquire a more prominent position on the Yugoslav amateur choral scene. In addition to the choice of conductors, the desire to attain high standards in performance and prestige at the federal level was perceptible in the aspira- tions of the choir’s artistic directors to support its participation in international
21 Mihovil Logar and Aleksandar Obradović, op. cit., 7; Radomir Petrović, “Horski amateri- zam u savremenom društvu”, Pro Musica, No. 32–33, 1968, 14; Đura Jakšić, “Stanje muzike u Srbiji”, Pro Musica, No. 44, 1968, 11. As Jakšić stated ‘except students and the younger parts of the Yugoslav population, the older generations rarely took part in the small number of amateur choirs that we have, while in other countries there is a large number of non-youth choirs and ensembles’.
56 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere... festivals and competitions. Starting from 1956, when the Beogradski madrigal- isti took part in the newly established International Music Festival in Arezzo (Italy), it gradually increased its presence on the international scene, by going on concert tours and taking part in competititons. As for performance statistics, one cannot overlook the choir’s visibly greater presence in the international are- na. For instance, unlike the late 1950s and early 1960s, when the Beogradski madrigalisti occasionally performed outside Yugoslav borders, mainly at the festivals in Arezzo and Llangollen (Scotland, Great Britain), which the Yugo- slav authorities greatly appreciated, from 1962 onwards this ensemble appeared abroad once or several times a year, which culminated in the ‘Soviet tour’ in 1972.22 As we can observe, the increase in the number of performances outside Yu- goslavia unfolded at the same time as the constant quest for more experienced conductors in the first decades of existance of the Beogradski madrigalisti. This was also underpinned by insisting on an ever more complex and diverse reper- toire. These tendencies coalesced throughout the 1950s and 1960s in the whole amateur sphere in Yugoslavia, coupled with an important shift that resulted from the foundation of national competitions with international aspirations as well as various music festivals such as, for instance, the Yugoslav Choral Festivities in Niš and the summer festivals in Dubrovnik, Ohrid, Split, and Ljubljana, etc. Thanks to this, amateur ensembles from all over Yugoslavia were given a chance to compete and perform in the country and gain the attention of local and federal authorities, music experts and a wider audience. The creation of a ‘space’ for national representation, parallel to international representation during the 1960s seems to have reinforced the processes that already existed in the segment of amateurism in the previous period. At the same time, it contributed to partially suppressing the trend of ‘alienation’ of amateur ensembles from their local com- munity which could be interpreted as the by-product of extensive cultural diplo-
22 According to data from the memorials dedicated to the Beogradski madrigalisti, this en- semble performed only once outside Yugoslavia in its first decade (in Arezzo, Italy, in 1956), but since the early 1960s it started to give concerts abroad more frequently. For instance, this choir went on a small tour in Great Britain in 1962 (performances in Llangollen, Weston Rhyn, Oxford), and the same year it participated in the festival in Arezzo. In 1963 it per- formed in Bratislava and Nimice, Czechoslovakia, the following year in Venice, Italy, while in 1965 it held concerts in Czechoslovakia (in Bratislava and Brno). Still, the groundbreaking years in the international concert performances of this ensemble were 1966 and 1972. In 1966 the Beogradski madrigalisti went on a tour in Italy (Perugia, Assisi, Foligno) and in 1972, the first tour in Soviet Union (Leningrad, Vilnius, Moscow and Tbilisi). See Milko Štimac, op. cit., 21.
57 New Sound 51, I /2018 macy or, to be more exact, a complete concentration on the international arena and the neglect of the national and federal context.23 Apparently, the pressure to be appear and be known both ‘locally’ and ‘globally’ did not deter the artistic directors of the Beogradski madrigalisti in the late 1950s. On the contrary, the newly established ‘duality of perspective’ probably reinforced their ambitions concerning the need for the ensemble to reach an artistic, semi-professional level. We can assume that these circumstanc- es significantly intensified the demand for excellence in comparison to the pre- vious period, which led to the increasing complexity of the concert programs as well as the number of performed pieces and their stylistic and technical variety. This presumably resulted in further restrictions in membership policies, owing to which musically more competent and educated individuals were favoured as opposed to those who were less proficient.24 The expansion of the possibility to compete and perform in a national/fed- eral frame, besides on the international scene, played a part in bringing about major changes in the policy of the public presentation of church music. This was clearly manifest in the work of the Beogradski madrigalisti, the ensemble that played a major role in the ’normalisation’ of sacred music in the Yugoslav public sphere. Since the performance of pieces written exclusively for the liturgy were not allowed outside religious institutions since the end of WWII, the fact that this choir performed the Liturgy St. John Chrysostom by Stevan St. Mokranjac,
23 As concluded by the press, it was not unusual for the local and broader community in Yugoslavia not to be acquainted with the work of their successful amateur ensembles. One of the most notorious examples of that kind was the Macedonian Mirče Acev choir from Skopje that was awarded the first prize at the festival in Llangollen in 1962. Although this ensemble achieved great success, people from Skopje were not familiar with this ensemble because of the fact that it had never performed in Yugoslavia from the time it was founded. A similar problem persisted with the Orce Nikolov folk and dance ensemble from Macedonia, which participated in more than 2,000 concerts in Yugoslavia and abroad (The Netherlands, Great Britain, Romania) but was nevertheless completely unknown in Skopje. See D. Niko- lić, “Prvi koncert – u inostranstvu”, Politika, 8 August 1962, 6. 24 Actually, from its foundation the Beogradski madrigalisti choir was open to musically well-educated vocalists (Cf. Beogradski madrigalisti 1951–1976, 1) who had had experi- ence with choral performance. Its first members played a crucial role in the choral ensem- ble of Radio Belgrade 2, founded after WWII. When this choir was disbanded in the early 1950s, singers enthusiastically joined the newly founded troupe – Beogradski madrigalisti. Although there were problems with the frequency of rehearsals and participation of some of the members, especially in the first decade of its existance, the tradition of engaging musi- cally educated individuals continued throughout the 1960s and especially in the 1970s, when the ensemble was ‘reinforced’ by incorporating a group of young and educated vocalists (Cf. Ibid., 15–16).
58 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere... one of the most prominent works from the modern tradition of Serbian church music, in a public venue represented an event of great historical significance. Apart from discontinuing the marginalisation of church music in the public do- main, these and similar performaces of sacred music in Yugoslavia after 1967 also contributed to dismantling the double standards typical of the 1950s, when certain ‘problematic’ music pieces were allowed to be presented abroad, mean- while they were practically prohibited in local concert halls. The pathway of the Beogradski madrigalisti in the performance of Serbian church music from the 1950s to the 1970s reflects, on the one hand, the gradual changes in the sphere of music performance in Yugoslavia – a growing flexibility and the removal of severe limitations, and, on the other hand, a revision by the political elite in its approach to the official religions. Therefore, the activities of this ensemble with regard to the promotion of church music both in and outside Yugoslavia deserve to be thoroughly examined as one of the indicators of the changing relations be- tween the Yugoslav authorities and religious institutions in this period.
Concluding remarks Even a brief look at the Yugoslav sphere of musical amateurism in the first de- cades after WWII, focussing on the Beogradski madrigalisti choir suggests the complexity of influences of political and social interests and motives that shaped its stucture and work. Placing this ensemble in the center of the analitical pro- cess revealed many important dimensions of the post-WWII socialist cultural policies concerning music amateurism. It is also testimony of the significance of the tendencies in international relations and cultural diplomacy intertwined with the different trends in culturally emancipating the masses, amateur performing and the public presentation of religious art. The early history of the Beogradski madrigalisti clearly illustrates the grad- ual transformation of the sphere of music amateurism throughout the 1950s and 1960s, which was initiated in the late 1940s. With the ever more significant in- volvement of Yugoslav amateur ensembles in the process of international cultur- al representation, together with the development of national competitions, the demands for excellence and the artistic quality of performance gained the upper hand. Instead of making art accesible to the masses through amateur performing, which was one of the main goals of the cultural policies in the ‘revolutionary’ phase, from the end of the 1940s onwards the sphere of musical amateurism was slowly alienated from the majority of the population. Actually, the benefits of the collective engagement in music performance typical of amateur choirs and orchestras, such as the development of closer social bonds, the spreading of socialist values and norms, the cultivation of taste in music, among other things, were persistently disregarded in the decades following the end of WWII.
59 New Sound 51, I /2018
Rather than allowing ‘disadvantaged’ social groups to freely enjoy various cultural acitivities, the Yugoslav authorities continually suppressed the mass population from the sphere of amateurism, indirectly giving the advantage to more educated and economically advanced groups. Consequently, amateur per- forming became a prestigious social activity which served as a vehicle for the social promotion of individuals who had more appropriate qualifications (a mu- sical education, exceptional talent, etc.). The inclusion of elitistic criteria into this sphere led to its marginalisation among the masses, who were compelled to find alternative sources for their in- volvement in cultural production and consumption. On the other hand, this pro- cess contributed to the expansion of artistically proficient amateur ensembles, allowed the lines between the amateur and the professional to become blurred. The trend of the semi-professionalisation of amateur ensembles, including the processes that contributed to it, was visible in the activities of the Beograds- ki madrigalisti, especially in the selection of conductors, shaping the repertoire, performing activities and rehearsal policies. In coping with the imperative of constant advancement, the artistic directors and leaders of the ensemble partic- ipated in the mediation of the political and cultural program of the Yugoslav authorities. This was instigated both through international cultural activities and, later on, in the activities at the national/federal level. Although the analysis of the early history of the Beogradski madrigalisti choir provides an insight into the complexity of the process of the structural transformation of amateurism, its broader significance can be comprehended only by means of a detailed examination of various amateur ensembles which were active in the decades after WWII along with the organisations and insti- tutions dedicated to monitoring and regulating them. If one pursues a parallel investigation of the musical education and cultivation of taste in music of the masses in this period and its findings, it would be possible to pinpoint more accurately the interconnection of the different spheres and processes in socialist Yugoslavia and stress the intricacies of the evolution and topicalisation of its cultural policies.
60 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere...
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Anonymous: “Jugoslovenski horovi ponovo pozvani u Langolen i Areco”. Politika, 22 Feb- ruary 1963, 10. Anonymous: “Pripreme za takmičenje horova u Arecu”. Politika, 29 March 1963, 10. Anonymous: “Amaterski ansambli iz Beograda, Maribora i Sarajeva na festivalu u Lango- lenu”. Politika, 29 March 1963, 10. Anonyomous: “Niš – jugoslovenski Areco?”. Pro Musica, No. 18, 1966, 8. “Bajšanski, Milan”. In: Muzička enciklopedija. Vol. 1. Ed.: Krešimir Kovačević. Zagreb: Ju- goslavenski leksikografski zavod, 1971, 114. Beogradski madrigalisti 1951–1976. Beograd: Radiša Timotić, 1976. Ceribašić, Naila: Hrvatsko, seljačko, starinsko i domaće: Povijest i etnografija javne prakse narodne glazbe u Hrvatskoj. Zagreb: Institut za etnologiju i folkloristiku, 2003. Cvetko, Dragotin: “Slovenačka muzička produkcja i reprodukcija: 1945–1948 (II)”. Muzika, No. 3, 1949, 61–67. Danon, Oskar: “Uloga savremene muzike u društvu”. Muzika, No. 1, 1948, 5–16. Dimić, Ljubodrag (ed.): Velike sile i male države u Hladnom ratu 1945–1955: slučaj Jugo- slavije. Beograd: Filozofski fakultet, Arhiv Srbije i Crne Gore, Institut za noviju is- toriju Srbije, 2005. Dimić, Ljubodrag: “Ideology and culture in Yugoslavia (1945–1955)”. In: Velike sile i male države u Hladnom ratu 1945–1955: slučaj Jugoslavije. Ed.: Ljubodrag Dimić. Beo- grad: Filozofski fakultet, Arhiv Srbije i Crne Gore, Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2005, 303–320. Dimić, Ljubodrag: Agitprop kultura: agitpropovska faza kulturne politike u Srbiji: 1945– 1952. Beograd: Rad, 1988. Đaković, B.: “Bajšanski, Milan”. In: Srpski biografski rečnik. Vol. 1. Ed.: Čedomir Popov. Novi Sad: Matica srpska, 2004, 367. Group of authors: Jugoslavija–SSSR: susreti i razgovori na najvišem nivou rukovodilaca Ju- goslavije i SSSr, 1946–1964. Vol. 1. Beograd: Arhiv Jugoslavije, Službeni glasnik, 2014. Jakšić, Đura: “Stanje muzike u Srbiji”. Pro Musica, No. 44, 1968, 10–11. Logar, Mihovil and Aleksandar Obradović: “Srbija”. Zvuk, No. 11–12, 1957, 3–16. Milin, Melita: “Orthodox Sacred Music as an Undesirable Segment of Tradition in Commu- nist Yugoslavia”. In: Musikgeschichte zwischen Ost und West: von der ‘musica sacra’ bis zur Kunstreligion. Festschrift für Helmut Loos zum 65. Geburtstag. Ed.: Stefan Keym and Stephan Wünsche. Leipzig: Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2015, 225–234. Miloradović, Goran: Lepota pod nadzorom: sovjetski kulturni uticaji u Jugoslaviji, 1945– 1955. Beograd: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 2012. M. V., “Određeni ansambli za amaterske festivale u inostranstvu”. Borba, 22 April 1961, 7. Nikolić, D.: “Prvi koncert – u inostranstvu”. Politika, 8 August, 1962, 6. Perišić, Miroslav: Diplomatija i kultura. Jugoslavija: prelomna 1950. Jedno istorijsko iskustvo. Beograd: Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, Narodna biblioteka Srbije, 2013.
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Petranović, Branko: Istorija Jugoslavije: 1918–1988. Vol. 3, Socijalistička Jugoslavija. Beo- grad: Nolit, 1988. Petrović, Ljubomir: “Kulturni sukob blokova tokom Hladnog rata u jugoslovenskoj pres- tonici 1945–1955”. In: Velike sile i male države u Hladnom ratu 1945–1955: slučaj Jugoslavije. Ed.: Ljubodrag Dimić. Beograd: Filozofski fakultet, Arhiv Srbije i Crne Gore, Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2005, 321–342. Petrović, Radomir: “Horski amaterizam u savremenom društvu”. Pro Musica, No. 32–33, 1968, 13–14. Preger, Andreja: “Muzički život i uloga reproduktivnih muzičkih umetnika u novoj Jugo- slaviji”. Muzika, No. 5, 1951, 119–132. Rajak, Svetozar: “In search of a life outside the two blocs: Yugoslavia’s road to non-aligne- ment”. In: Velike sile i male države u Hladnom ratu 1945–1955: slučaj Jugoslavije. Ed.: Ljubodrag Dimić. Beograd: Filozofski fakultet, Arhiv Srbije i Crne Gore, Insti- tut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2005, 84–105. S. B.: “Hor ‘Proletera’ putuje krajem mjeseca u Areco”. Oslobođenje, 14 August 1958, 4. Stefanović, Dimitrije: “Ohridski vizantološki kongres i muzikologija”. Zvuk, No. 52, 1962, 165–170. Štimac, Milko (ed.): Beogradski madrigalisti 1951–1991. Beograd: Compuscan, 1991. Vesić, Ivana, Konstruisanje srpske muzičke tradicije u periodu između dva svetska rata: uloga ideoloških podela u srpskoj političkoj i intelektualnoj eliti, unpublished Ph.D. Diss. Beograd: Filozofski fakultet Univerziteta u Beogradu, 2016. Vukdragović, Mihailo: “Muzika na Festivalu narodne omladine Jugoslavije”. Muzika, No. 2, 1949, 81–86.
Summary In this paper we examine the sphere of musical amateurism in Yugoslavia in the decades following the end of WWII. Having noted the profound changes in the role and signifi- cance of amateur music ensembles, specifically choirs, in Yugoslav society from the late 1940s until the late 1960s / early 1970s, manifested in their de-massification, gradual professionalisation and extensive use in cultural diplomacy, we found the explanation lay in several factors – above all, in the shifts in Yugoslav international policies after the confrontation with the Soviet Union in 1948, and, consequently, the revisions of its cul- tural policies. As we point out, the impetus towards de-Sovietisation in Yugoslavia at that time, followed by more active cultural collaboration with non-socialist European (and Third world) countries, brought about a modification in the approach to musical amateur- ism. As folk and choral ensembles became important mediators of Yugoslav culture and society abroad, their performing qualities and repertoire gained more attention from offi- cials and music experts. Meanwhile, amateur ensembles started to shape their policies in accordance with the growing tendency to perform at international festivals and competi- tions which reaped various symbolic rewards. As time passed, the predominant position of cultural diplomacy over the concept of the cultural emancipation of the masses that had
62 Vesić, I., Peno, V.: The Structural Transformation of the Sphere... relevance soon after WWII, deeply transformed the sphere of musical amateurism in socialist Yugoslavia. Instead of representing a ‘space’ for nurturing and elevating the cultural needs and aims of socially disadvantaged groups such as workers and peasants, it ‘matured’ into an exlusive area that was primarily open to the urban, musically well-ed- ucated and artistically adept segments of the population. This process is observed through a detailed examination of the activities of the Beogradski madrigalisti choir from its foundation in 1951 until the early 1970s.
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Article received on August 28th 2017 Article accepted on November 13th 2017 UDC: 78.071.1 Шимановски К.
Bogumiła Mika* University of Silesia, Katowice, Poland Department of Fine Art and Music Institute of Music
MUSIC OF KAROL SZYMANOWSKI IN THE INTERTEXTUAL DIALOGUE
Abstract: In this paper I delineate how two aspects of the music of Karol Szymanowski – subjective and objective – enter into intertextual dialogue with other musical pieces. The subjective aspect of intertextual dialogue is defined as Szymanowski’s use in his own music of fragments of the works of various composers and of folk music. The objective aspect of intertextual dialogue is defined as citations from or allusions to Szymanowski’s work by other Polish composers. The problem of intertextuality in music remains impor- tant when considering participation of a single musical work in ‘the world of musical art’ in general, as well as in the world of common human experience. Key words: Karol Szymanowski, intertextuality, quotations, borrowing, references, styli- sation
Intertextuality In this paper I will consider the works of Karol Szymanowski as an intertextual dialogue taking place in the domain of music. I will point to the intertextual references in the music of the ‘Composer from Atma’. That is, I will consider the citations, borrowings, and stylisations of other music he used (the subjective aspect), and also the intertextual dialogue of Polish composers of the 20th cen- tury, who referred to Szymanowski’s works in their music (the objective aspect). The phenomenon of intertextuality is based on the existence of a particu- lar kind of connection between several texts (in our case, musical texts). Stud-
* Author contact information: [email protected].
64 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue ies dedicated to intertextuality, although produced by French scholars, evolved from Bakhtin’s notion of ‘dialogue’. This concept posits that one literary work sustains a continual dialogue with other works, and the writing of one author maintains a dialogue with that of other writers. Bakhtin’s theory was developed by French semiotician Julia Kristeva, who wrote that ‘any text is constructed as a mosaic of quotations, any text is the absorption and transformation of anoth- er’.1 In 1966, Kristeva contributed the concept of intertextuality to literary theo- ry by synthesising Bakhtin’s theory with the semiotic conclusions of Ferdinand de Saussure. The term ‘intertextuality’ gained popularity toward the end of the twentieth century and is an accepted concept in the theories of literature and mu- sic. Although the term still lacks a single stable meaning shared by all scholars, the various concepts of intertextuality all derive from Bakhtin’s idea that both a genre and a single text ‘remember’ their past.2
Music of Szymanowski – the subjective aspect In the context of this paper we should recall the famous sentences by Karol Szy- manowski, written in 1910 in his letter to Zdzisław Jachimecki: When will people finally understand that art is not born of itself, that every artist is an aristocrat, who must have behind him the twelve generations of Bachs and Beethovens, if he is a musician, or of Sophocleses and Shake- speares, if he is a poet or a playwright […] When I become aware of entire generations of the most beautiful, most genial of people, I feel that it is worthwhile living and working.3 Szymanowski was conscious of constantly ‘being in debt’ to his musical ances- tors. He consciously introduced into some of his own compositions borrowed sound material from other musical works. The phenomenon of ‘intertextual dia- logue’ was present in his music often and early.
1 Julia Kristeva, “Word, Dialog and Novel”, in: Toril Moi (ed.), The Kristeva Reader, New York, Columbia University Press, 1986, 37. 2 The problem of intertextuality/quotation was often discussed in literature, see f. e.: Stefan Morawski, “The Basic Function of Quotation“, in: Algirdas J. Greimas, Roman Jakobson and others (eds.), Sign, Culture, Language, The Hague – Paris,1970, 690–705; Mikhail Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays (trans. C Emerson & M Holquist), Austin, TX, Uni- versity of Texas Press, 1981; Gérard Genette, Palimpsestes: La littérature au second degré, Paris, Seuil, 1982; Julia Kristeva, Desire in Language: A Semiotic Approach to Literature and Art, New York, Columbia University Press, 1980. 3 Letter dated 4 December 1910. I quote after: Teresa Chylińska, “European Culture in Szy- manowski’s Writings”, in: Paul Cadrin and Stephen Downes (eds.), The Szymanowski Com- panion, London and New York, Routledge, 2016, 80.
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In his 4 Etudes, op. 4 (1900–1902), one may notice the influence of the ‘Scriabin-Chopin’ stylistic circle,4 especially in the second Etude in G-Flat Ma- jor (Allegro molto) beginning in both hands with the same pitches as Etude in G-flat Major op. 25 by Chopin.5 The reference to Chopin is intended to indicate the virtuoso tradition, the tradition of great pianism. It is significant that this ref- erence is placed in an etude, which exposes pianistic technical qualities.
Example 1 F. Chopin, Etude in G-Flat Major op. 25, bars 1–4.
Example 2 K. Szymanowski, Etude in G-Flat Major op. 4 No. 2, bars 1–2.
Clear musical quotations are present in Szymanowski’s Three Fragments from Poems to Jan Kasprowicz op. 5, written in 1902. The first piece, Święty Boże [Holy God] (with a prayer like character), is based on an initial melodic motif of supplication Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us. This quotation returns five more times, each time harmonised differently and each time in a 3/2 meter, differing from the meters of the other fragments.
4 Tadeusz A. Zieliński, Szymanowski. Liryka i ekstaza [Szymanowski. Lyric and Ecstasy], Kraków, Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1997, 21. 5 Ibid.
66 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue
Example 3 K. Szymanowski, Three Fragments from Poems to Jan Kasprowicz op. 5. The first song: Święty Boże, bars: 17–20 and 41–46.
The second and most dramatic song, Jestem i płaczę [I Am and I Weep], once again quotes the melody of the supplication Holy God to accompany the dramatically sung words Have mercy upon us! Its initial dynamic is based on a quotation from a patriotic song, Z dymem pożarów [With the Smoke of Fires] by Józef Nikorowicz to the words of Kornel Ujejski, a song banned by the Russian au- thorities.
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Example 4 J. Nikorowicz, song Z dymem pożarów
The melody of supplication thus fulfills in this cycle a symbolic function and testifies to the sense of community by participation in the act of requesting. Meanwhile, the melody of Nikorowicz’s song – as banned by the Russian au- thorities – helps to fulfill the image of bondage and misery, underlined by the words Jestem i płaczę [I Am and I Weep].
68 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue
Example 5 K. Szymanowski, Three Fragments from Poems to Jan Kasprowicz op. 5. The second song: Jestem i płaczę, bars 1–6.
In this context, a work from one of Szymanowski’s early opuses stands out: Variations on a Polish Folk Theme op. 10 (1904), dedicated to Zygmunt Nos- kowski. The theme’s melody on which the variations are based is an authentic melody from Podhale, taken from the work of Jan Kleczyński entitled O muzyce podhalańskiej [On the Music of Podhale] (1988). Szymanowski, however, so changed this melody, treated it in the romantic style, and enriched it with chro- matic harmonics, that, as Polish musicologist T.A. Zieliński wrote, he “stripped it of folk authenticity”.6
6 Ibid., 33.
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Example 6 Szymanowski, Variations on a Polish Folk Theme op. 10, bars 1–4.
Szymanowski returned to borrowing material in a particularly strong way in the last period of his creativity, when he changed his attitude towards the use of folk music in artistic works. We must remember that Szymanowski’s relationship with folk art evolved throughout his life. At first, he was against incorporating folk elements into art music, and this negative attitude might be understood as a result of the ‘academic’ usage of folk music by other Polish composers, his contemporaries. In the last period of his creativity – in his national period – Szy- manowski changed his opinion. He stressed the value and vivacity of folk songs; he treated them as the “eternally beating heart of the race […], which an artist, close to the soil of his culture, should create anew in the form of a perfect, gen- erally intelligible work of art”.7 Szymanowski creatively combined and used two traditions of Polish folk culture: the tradition of Kurpie (known through written recordings made by the priest Władysław Skierkowski, and the tradition of Tatra mountain music (which he knew personally). The first composition demonstrating Szymanowski’s fascination with Podhale music was Słopiewnie (op. 46 bis), written in 1921. According to T.A. Zieliński ‘the composer did not recall the character of a particular folklore, but recreated a certain expressive climate, bound with “primordial”, deeply folk modes of expression’.8 Recalling this atmosphere was meant to serve sabala note, the “spirit […] [which] penetrates all five songs”,9 and which is clearly present in the central song of the cycle, Święty Franciszek. [Saint Francis].
7 Karol Szymanowski, “Wychowawcza rola kultury muzycznej w społeczeństwie” [Educat- ing Role of Musical Culture in Society], in: Kornel Michałowski (ed.), Karol Szymanowski. Pisma [Karol Szymanowski. Texts], Vol I. Pisma muzyczne [Musical Texts], Kraków, Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1984, 269. 8 T. A. Zieliński, op. cit., 210. 9 Ibid., 210.
70 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue
Example 7 Sabala note written by A. Chybiński
Faithful adherence to the text by the Polish poet Julian Tuwim encouraged Szy- manowski to differentiate between secular and pious phrases. The first few, which begin the song Saint Francis and later accompany the words “ptakow- ie, kwiatowie” [birds, flowers], use motifs taken from the musical scale of the Podhale region and operate with eleven-tone material. The ‘pious’ phrases are accompanied by reduced musical material, seven tones, created of numerous transpositions of a specific fragment of the Phrygian scale.10 Borrowings from folk music here serve to create a specific sonic quality and help to paint a specif- ic image of the world (the secular world, which is associated with this folklore).
Example 8 K. Szymanowski, Słopiewnie – song Święty Franciszek, bars 1–10.
Szymanowski stressed the richness of Polish ‘barbarity’ hidden in Polish folk- lore11 especially strongly while composing the ballet Harnasie (1923–1931). He
10 Ibid., 88. 11 Karol Szymanowski, “O muzyce góralskiej” [About Mountaineers Music], in: K. Mi- chałowski (ed.), op. cit., 107.
71 New Sound 51, I /2018 added that this music must be heard when drinking with mountaineers if one is to understand what’s going on.12 Szymanowski was against the mechanical or photographic incorporation of folk elements into works of art in general, but saw the procedure as unavoidable in special situations.13 In this way he explained the incorporation of original quo- tations from Podhale folk songs into his ballet Harnasie. He took the authentic folk melodies from the collection: Music of Podhale by Stanisław Mierczyński. One may note that Harnasie proves Szymanowski’s deep knowledge of mountaineers’ folk music, customs, and ceremonials and this authenticity is an important point on which the dramatic action of the whole ballet relies, which, as a whole, is not strongly convincing. The value of Podhale folk music especially attractive to Szymanowski was the multiplicity of ‘notes’ (that is, melodies) – but also their diversity and changeability.14 In Harnasie, Szymanowski quoted mountaineers’ melodies in crudo, he based some parts of the ballet on them, but also developed and trans- formed the quotations. Drawing inspiration from folk music, he created com- pletely new art music fragments.15 The presence of original quotations in Harnasie is both strong and intense. The vocal dimension of the ballet, in both solo and choral parts, is almost entire- ly based on quotations. We can find a number of examples: – the song that opens the third scene of Tableau No. 1 (Marsz zbójnicki [The Tatra Robbers’ March]). The melody starts with the text: Hej, idem w las [Hey! I Am Going into the Woods], and the same melody is used in the fourth scene (No. 30, 31, 34 in the score) and in the eight scene (No. 95 of the score); – the song opening the seventh scene of Tableau No. 2 (Taniec górals- ki [The Tatra Highlanders’ Dance]), from No. 44 in the collection of Mierczyński Music of Podhale); – the famous tenor solo in the ninth and last scene (Epilogue), a quotation from the song Powiedz ze mi, powiedz [Tell Me, Tell Me] (bars 3–17);
12 Adolf Chybiński, Karol Szymanowski a Podhale [Karol Szymanowski and Podhale], Kraków, Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1958, 21. 13 Kornel Michałowski, Karol Szymanowski. Katalog tematyczny dziel i bibliografia [Karol Szymanowski. Tematic Catalog and Bibliography], Kraków, Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzy- czne, 1967, 225. 14 Kazimierz Nowacki, “Rola folkloru góralskiego w Harnasiach” [Role of the Highlander Folk in Harnasie], in: Karol Szymanowski. Księga sesji naukowej [Karol Szymanowski. Ma- terials From the Musicological Conference],Warszawa, Uniwersytet Warszawski,1964, 211. 15 Ibid., 212.
72 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue
– the second part of the same tenor solo in the ninth scene (Epilogue), a quotation of melody No. 53 from Mierczyński’s collection Music of Podhale (bars 3–17); – the choral scene opening Tableau No. 2, the sixth scene: Wesele [The Wedding] (bars 8–17), noted by Szymanowski as Eli nuta [Note of Ela]; – the choral ending of the sixth scene (Cepiny [Entry of the Bride]); – the entire choral section of the sixth scene: (Pieśń Siuhajów [Drinking Song], based on the song Jo za wodom, ty za wodom [I’m across the wa- ter; you’re across the water]); – the middle, choral part of the eighth scene (Napad harnasiów. Taniec [Raid of the Harnasie. Dance]), a melody on the text Spotkolek cie w lesie, widziolek cie w polu [I Met You in the Forest, I Saw You in the Field]. The music of Podhale was also woven into the instrumental parts of Har- nasie as transformed quotations. Szymanowski used the technique of montage, a technique binding two different melodies or their fragments to become a new melody. This also is a technique specific to the mountaineers’ singing practice.16 Examples can be found: – in the opening melody of Harnasie (based among others on Sabala note); – in the tenor solo part of the last, ninth scene; – in the predominant melody of the Taniec zbójnicki [The Tatra Robbers’ Dance]. Harnasie makes reference to tunes of the folk instrumental bands of Podhale (Taniec góralski [The Tatra Highlanders’ Dance]). Harnasie is, as I’ve written, almost completely based on the Podhale folk culture. The original quotations, improvisational transformations, and developments of folk elements, such as melodies or rhythm, remain close to highlanders’ performance practice17 and be- came a method for Szymanowski to express his individuality.18 Podhale folk music so strongly influenced Szymanowski’s imagination that he also used it in other compositions, such as the String Quartet No. 2 op. 56 (1927) or 20 Mazurkas op. 50 (1924–25). In the second part of the quartet No. 2, Szymanowski quoted the song used in Harnasie in Tableau No. 2, beginning with the words Pocciez chłopcy… [Money, boys, find the money]; the third part is based on Sabala’s note. The highlanders’ Sabala’s note also was used in the first mazurka in Szymanowski’s op. 50.
16 Ibid., 215. 17 Ibid., 221. 18 Ibid., 223.
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Example 9 K. Szymanowski, Harnasie (bars 509–514) scene VIII, Napad harnasiów. Ta- niec (quotation: bars. 512–514)
Example 10 K. Szymanowski, II String Quartet, second part, bars 38–45 (quotation: bars 43–45)
74 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue
Example 11 K. Szymanowski, II String Quartet, third part, bars 1–5.
Music of Szymanowski – the objective aspect From the large number of compositions that, in the 20th century, recalled the mu- sic of Karol Szymanowski, I choose only four: – String Quartet (1979) by Andrzej Krzanowski (version I B) (a quotation on a tape of Szymanowski’s Stabat Mater); – Sonata (1982) by Paweł Szymański (a quotation of Szymanowski’s Ma- zurka op. 62 No. 2); – Sonata with a motif of Karol Szymanowski (1983) by Roman Berger (a quotation of Szymanowski Symphony No. 4 Symphonie concertante op. 60); and – String Quartet No. 3 [Songs are sung] op. 67 (1995) by Henryk Mikołaj Górecki (a quotation of the first part of String Quartet No. 1 bySzy- manowski). String Quartet (1979) by Andrzej Krzanowski (version I B) for string quar- tet, percussion, and taped music of Szymanowski, recalls by a literal quota- tion of his Stabat Mater, recorded on a tape – the beginning of the fourth part. Krzanowski’s idea was to use four tapes, but to leave to the performers the de- cision regarding which part of the music should be exposed. The first tape con- tained a recorded instrumental of the Quartet; the second tape was a recorded vo- calise; the third tape was a recorded quotation of Stabat Mater by Szymanowski; the fourth tape was a recorded fragment of the text of Stabat Mater. One must certainly point out that the work of Krzanowski was born of his fascination with the sequence of the Stabat Mater, on both the painter’s and the literary fields. According to Krzanowski, the expression of Szymanowski’s Stabat Mater cor- responded with the drama of the sequence itself. A quotation of Szymanowski’s Symphony No. 4 Symphonie concertante op. 60 (1932), in Sonata for violin and piano (part one) by Roman Berger is
75 New Sound 51, I /2018 organically intertwined with the quotation of the medieval sequence Dies irae. Berger’s composition was written in 1983 and, as the author confessed, “in the anti-Solidarity atmosphere in the former Czechoslovakia, which culminated af- ter the introducing of martial law in Poland”.19
Example 12 R. Berger, Sonata for violin and piano, first part, bars 201–206.
Berger quotes the music of Szymanowski only one time, but creates the whole of his work drawing from the “Master of Atma.” The Szymanowski quotation, together with a motif from the Dies irae, have strong symbolic meaning in this piece. We should remember that the composer Roman Berger was born in Polish Cieszyn and was required for many years to emigrate. Also, Polish musicologist Krystyna Tarnawska-Kaczorowska points out that, for years, Radio Free Europe began its broadcast “Polish Authors on Immigration” with fragments from Szy- manowski’s Symphony No. 4 Symphonie concertante.20 In the case of Sonata by Paweł Szymański, Szymanowski’s Mazurka op. 62 No. 2 – which, as Polish music journalist Dorota Szwarcman noted, played the
19 Roman Berger, Zasada twórczości. Wybór pism z lat 1984–2005 [Principle of Composing. Choice of Texts], Katowice, Akademia Muzyczna im. K. Szymanowskiego, 2005, 365. 20 Krystyna Tarnawska-Kaczorowska, “ ‘…najpierw jest życie, a potem sztuka…’ Roman Berger” [“ ‘… life is at first, then an art..’ Roman Berger”], in: Marta Fik (ed.), Między Polską a światem. Kultura emigracyjna po 1939 roku [Between Poland and a World. Culture of em- igration after 1939], Warszawa, Krąg, 1992, 132.
76 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue role of a pretext only21 – was written with other musical pieces in 1982, to mark the hundredth anniversary of Szymanowski’s birth. Sonata and all these anniver- sary works were commissioned by the Polish Society for Contemporary Music. The composers were asked to take as the point of departure Mazurka op. 62 No. 2 by Szymanowski and to treat it as a motto, inspiration, or pretext for their own music. Six musical works were written in response to this commission, among them Sonata by Szymański. Sonata by Szymański is an example of a creative dialogue with tradition and with the music of Szymanowski, the example of a ‘fresh look’. In this piece of music, metaphorically speaking, the spirit of the main theme of Szymanows- ki’s Mazurka pervades the whole Sonata, appearing in transpositions and re- ductions, and in intact motives from Mazurka. At the same time, Szymański’s composition clearly demonstrates an individual and unique way of realising the task set by the Polish Society for Contemporary Music. Undeniably, despite fre- quent and different restatements of Szymanowski’s Mazurka, we hear in this music more Szymański than Szymanowski; Szymański, with his fancy for ca- nonic technique, with references to his favorite epoch – the Baroque – and to the frequent use of layered polyphony. In Szymański’s Sonata, in my opinion, the intertextual dialogue with tra- dition is best heard, and it reveals the inspiring wealth born at the crossroads of cultures, at the intersection of different qualities. This intertextual dialogue expressed itself in the clash of contrasting idioms: of the Baroque epoch (in the violin part) and of Javanese music (the bells and gong parts), evoking the im- pression that we are dealing with “a blend of Telemann and gamelan”, as the Polish composer Rafał Augustyn once said.22
Example 13 K. Szymanowski – Mazurka op. 62 No. 2, thema, bars 12–16.
21 Dorota Szwarcman, “Paweł Szymański: Sonata”, Ruch Muzyczny, 1984, No 8, 6. 22 http://www.muzykotekaszkolna.pl/wiedza/kompozytorzy/szymanski-pawel-ur-1954/ [ac- cessed: 26.08.2017].
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Example 14 P. Szymański – Sonata, bars 243–245.
Henryk Mikołaj Górecki also very clearly referred to the music of Szymanowski in his String Quartet No. 3 [Songs are Sung] op. 67, written in 1995. The music of this Quartet reveals Górecki’s fascination with songs23 and was inspired by a poem of the Russian poet Velimir Khlebnikov (1885–1922): When horses die, they breathe When grasses die, they wither, When suns die, they go out, When people die, they sing songs.24 In Górecki’s Quartet, very melancholic and very touching in mood and of mon- umental form (lasting almost an hour), there is a quotation from the First String Quartet by Szymanowski. It is used twice: first in the middle, the third part, of Górecki’s Quartet, and again in the fourth, penultimate part. In the third part, the quotation is recalled in a different tempo and with a different expressive mark- ing from that of its model (Szymanowski used dolcissimo, and Górecki molto espressivo e ben tenuto). The second restatement starts the fourth part of Górec- ki’s Quartet, as the repetition of the climax from the previous part. We probably may admit that in Górecki’s Quartet, the quotation from Szy- manowski’s piece takes on an iconic character, and although it is a little sur- prising, it helps to realise the idea of this touching music, creating the song’s melancholic character. The use of quotation in Górecki’s music performs two functions. On the one hand, according to Adrian Thomas, it “intensifies memo- ries by transferring them to a higher level”;25 on the other, it can be treated here as a kind of homage to Szymanowski.
23 Adrian Thomas, Książka programowa II Festiwalu Muzyki Polskiej [Program booklet of the Second Festival of Polish Music], Kraków 5-12 XI.2006, 210-211. 24 English version of the poem: https://allpoetry.com/When-Horses-Die [accessed: 23. 08. 2017] 25 A. Thomas, op. cit., 211.
78 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue
Example 15 K. Szymanowski – I String Quartet, first part., bars 151–155 (Górecki quoted bar No. 154)
To summarise this short survey of musical examples of works written by Szy- manowski and by selected composers of the 20th century who borrow or quote from works composed by Szymanowski, we can refer to Ryszard Nycz, the Pol- ish literary researcher on intertextuality. He noted that a work viewed from an intertextual perspective participates both in the ‘world of art’ and in the com- munity of human experience. Assuredly, this happens with the music of Szy- manowski. It repeatedly recalls texts from different cultures (resp. texts of mu- sic). Also, many different pieces of music recall fragments from Szymanowski’s musical pieces. The intertextual dialogue is vivid and alive; it furnishes each generation of listener with inspiring new reading.
Works cited Bakhtin, Mikhail: The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1981. Berger, Roman: Zasada twórczości. Wybór pism z lat 1984-2005 [Principle of composing. Choice of texts]. Katowice: Akademia Muzyczna im. K. Szymanowskiego, 2005. Chybiński, Adolf: Karol Szymanowski a Podhale [Karol Szymanowski and Podhale]. Kraków: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1958. Chylińska, Teresa, “European Culture in Szymanowski’s Writings”. In: The Szymanowski Companion. Ed.: Paul Cadrin and Stephen Downes. London and New York: Rout- ledge, 2016, 80–82. Genette, Gérard: Palimpsestes: La littérature au second degré. Paris: Seuil, 1982. Kristeva, Julia: Desire in Language: A Semiotic Approach to Literature and Art. New York: Columbia University Press, 1980. Kristeva, Julia: “Word, Dialog and Novel”. In: The Kristeva Reader. Ed.: Toril Moi. New York: Columbia University Press, 1986, 34–61.
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Michałowski, Kornel: Karol Szymanowski. Katalog tematyczny dziel i bibliografia [Karol Szymanowski. Tematic catalog and bibliography]. Kraków: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1967. Morawski, Stefan, “The Basic Function of Quotation“. In: Sign, Culture, Language. Eds.: Algirdas J. Greimas, Roman Jakobson et al. The Hague – Paris: Mouton, 1970, 690– 705. Nowacki, Kazimierz: “Rola folkloru góralskiego w Harnasiach” [“Role of the highlander folk in Harnasie”]. In: Karol Szymanowski. Księga sesji naukowej [Karol Szy- manowski. Materials from the musicological conference]. Warszawa: Uniwersytet Warszawski, 1964, 219–225. Szwarcman, Dorota: “Paweł Szymański: Sonata”. Ruch Muzyczny, 1984, No. 8, 6. Szymanowski, Karol: “Wychowawcza rola kultury muzycznej w społeczeństwie” [“Educat- ing role of musical culture in society”]. In: Karol Szymanowski. Pisma [Karol Szy- manowski. Texts], Vol I. Pisma muzyczne [Musical texts]. Ed.: Kornel Michałowski. Kraków: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1984, 264–292. Szymanowski, Karol: “O muzyce góralskiej” [“About mountaineers music”]. In: Karol Szy- manowski. Pisma [Karol Szymanowski. Texts], Vol I. Pisma muzyczne [Musical texts]. Ed.: Kornel Michałowski. Kraków: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1984, 103– 108. Tarnawska-Kaczorowska, Krystyna: “ ‘…najpierw jest życie, a potem sztuka…’ Roman Berger” [“ ‘… life is at first, then an art..’ Roman Berger”]. In: Między Polską a świ- atem. Kultura emigracyjna po 1939 roku [Between Poland and a World. Culture of emigration after 1939]. Ed.: Marta Fik. Warszawa: Krąg, 1992, 117–133. Thomas, Adrian: Książka programowa II Festiwalu Muzyki Polskiej [Program booklet of the Second Festival of Polish Music], Kraków 5–12 XI.2006, 210–211. Zieliński, Tadeusz A.: Szymanowski. Liryka i ekstaza [Szymanowski. Lyric and ecstasy]. Kraków: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1997.
Internet sources: http://www.muzykotekaszkolna.pl/wiedza/kompozytorzy/szymanski-pawel-ur-1954/ [ac- cessed: 26.08.2017]. https://allpoetry.com/When-Horses-Die [accessed: 23.08.2017]
Summary The phenomenon of intertextuality is based on the existence of a particular kind of con- nection between several texts (in our case, musical texts). The music of Karol Szy- manowski enters into intertextual dialogue with other musical pieces and this dialogue can have two aspects: subjective and objective. The subjective aspect I define as Szy- manowski’s use in his own music of fragments of the works of various composers and of folk music. The objective aspect I define as citations from or allusions to Szymanowski’s work by other Polish composers.
80 Mika, B.: Music of Karol Szymanowski in the Intertextual Dialogue
In this paper – taking into account the subjective aspect – I consider the following works of Karol Szymanowski: 4 Etudes, op. 4, Three Fragments from Poems to Jan Kasprowicz op. 5, Variations on a Polish Folk Theme op. 10, Słopiewnie (op. 46 bis), the ballet Har- nasie, and String Quartet No 2. Taking into account the objective aspect of the intertextual dialogue I consider only four pieces, from a large number of compositions that, in the 20th century recalled the music of Karol Szymanowski: String Quartet (1979) by Andrzej Krzanowski (version I B) (a quotation on a tape of Szymanowski’s Stabat Mater); Sonata (1982) by Paweł Szymański (a quotation of Szymanowski’s Mazurka op. 62 No. 2); Sonata with a motif of Karol Szymanowski (1983) by Roman Berger (a quotation of Szymanowski Symphony No. 4 Symphonie concertante op. 60); and String Quartet No. 3 [Songs are sung] op. 67 (1995) by Henryk Mikołaj Górecki (a quotation of the first part of String Quartet No. 1 by Szy- manowski). According to Ryszard Nycz, the Polish literary researcher on intertextuality, a work viewed from an intertextual perspective participates both in the ‘world of art’ and in the community of human experience. Assuredly, this happens with the music of Karol Szy- manowski.
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82 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms
INTERPRETATIONS
Article received on February 7th 2018 Article accepted on May 16th 2018 UDC: 78.071.1 Биртвисл Х.
Geraldine Finn* Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada Department of Philosophy
PANIC AT THE PROMS (perhaps the explanation lies in his background)
Abstract: This paper has been written as both a celebration of the music of Harrison Birtwistle – “the most forceful and uncompromisingly original British composer of his generation” according to the New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians – and as a response, at once playful and polemic, to the critics and commentators who struggle to name, claim, frame and contain it within the familiar categories and tropes of contempo- rary music interpretation. My particular focus is Panic which is exemplary in this respect and what Birtwistle cognoscendi have a habit of referring to as ‘his background’ to ‘ex- plain’ the idiosyncratic difficulty and difference of his work, as in the quotation cited as my subtitle. Key words: Birtwistle, background, jingoism, panic, Proms
1. What is he doing the great god Pan Down by the reeds by the river Spreading ruin and scattering ban
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Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat And breaking the golden lilies afloat With the dragon-fly on the river.1 In Greek mythology Pan appears as the god of pastures, forests, flocks and herds, and also the universal deity. Some sources derive the name from the same root as that of Latin pascere, ‘to graze’. His parentage is variously given as born of Jupiter and Calisto, Hermes and Penelope, among others, and he is represent- ed with the upper part of a man and the body and legs of a goat, and with little horns on his head. The medieval image of the devil. Because his mother desert- ed him at birth, he was raised by nymphs. His lustful nature was a characteristic and he was the symbol of fecundity.2 Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, To laugh as he sits by the river, Making a poet out of a man: The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain – For the reed which grows nevermore again As a reed with the reeds of the river.3 Legend has it that at the time of the Crucifixion, just when the veil of the Temple was rent in twain, a cry swept across the ocean in the hearing of a pilot. “Great Pan is Dead”, and at the same time the responses of the oracles ceased for ever.4 And that dismal cry rose slowly, And sank slowly through the air; Full of spirit’s melancholy And eternity’s despair! And they heard the words it said – PAN IS DEAD – GREAT PAN IS DEAD – PAN, PAN IS DEAD.5
* Author contact information: [email protected]. 1 Notes/references. Quotations in my works are like robbers by the roadside who make an armed attack and relieve an idler of his convictions. Walter Benjamin Para-cited from Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861), “A Musical Instrument”. 2 Para-cited from the entry on “Pan” in Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, Seven- teenth Edition, London, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2005, 1027. 3 Para-cited from Barret Browning, op. cit. 4 Para-cited from Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, op. cit. 5 Para-cited from Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861), “The Dead Pan”.
84 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms
Early Christians believed that this marked the beginning of the end of the pagan era.6 2. About a hundred million people heard Panic over the radio and television when it was first performed [the word comes from the god Pan, because the sounds heard by night in the mountains and valleys, which gave rise to sudden and unwarranted fear, were attributed to him] and judging from the letters the BBC received and the ten thousand outraged listeners who jammed the BBC switchboards most people were outraged.7 It is probable that no other composer before Birtwistle has had so much abuse thrown at them by the popular press. “Unmitigated rubbish” (Daily Ex- press), “last fight of the Proms” (Today), “an hors d’oeuvre of cold sick” (The Spectator).8 Faced with the prospect of writing for the flag-wavers, giddy revellers and large general television audience of the Last Night Birtwistle devised the most unremittingly ferocious eighteen minutes of music in his entire output – a sus- tained assault, with brazen alto saxophone and drum kit leading an equally stri- dent stringless orchestra.9 (note the lack of strings—the voice of civilized culture)10 Brazen, made of brass [alloy of copper with tin, zinc, or other base metal], also from brass often serving as a type of strength or impenetrability, extreme- ly strong; impenetrable; pertaining to brass, proceeding from brass (a brazen sound); impudent, having a front like brass. v. t. to behave with insolence or effrontery [shameless audacity]; to brazen out, to persevere in treating with ef- frontery.11 The overriding impression on first hearing was of the soloist and his side- kick drummer riding rough-shod over everything.12
6 Para-cited from Brewer’s…, op. cit. 7 Para-cited from Michael Hall, Harrison Birtwistle in Recent Years, London, Robson Books, 1998, 130. 8 Ibid. 9 Para-cited from Robert Adlington, The Music of Harrison Birtwistle, Cambridge University Press, 2000, 191. 10 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle. Man, Mind, Music, London, Faber and Faber, 2000, 112. 11 Para-cited from the entry on “brazen” in The Concise Oxford English Dictionary, London, Oxford University Press, 1966. 12 Para-cited from Robert Adlington, “Harrison Birtwistle’s Recent Music”, Tempo, 196, April 1996, 2.
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[Rough-shod, (of horse) having shoes with the nail-heads projecting (ride rough-shod, domineer over)]13 An obsessed-looking saxophonist wandered around bellowing like a bull in a field of cattle.14 This is music which is seemingly instinctive – repeating figures which amount to little more than primordial grunts and bangs – it is raw and immedi- ate.15 Images of brutal death and destruction are accompanied by a music of sim- ilar character.16 This was a quarter-hour of fast, male violence, both as sound and as musical feeling – the ultimate up-yours piece.17 [Up yours! A crude exclamation of contemptuous rejection, in spoken form often accompanied by a v-sign. The implied full phrase is “Up your arse!” In May 1986 The Sun famously flaunted a front-page heading “UP YOURS DE- LORS” for the benefit of Jacques Delors, president of the European Commis- sion.]18 ‘Twas the hour when One in Sion Hung for love’s sake on a cross – When his brow was chill with dying, And his soul was faint with loss; When his priestly blood dropped downward, And his kingly eyes looked throneward – Then, Pan was dead. And the rowers from the benches Fell – each shuddering on his face – While departing influences Struck a cold back through the place: And the shadow of the ship Reeled along the passive deep – Pan, Pan is dead.19
13 Para-cited from the entry on “rough-shod” in the Oxford English Dictionary, op. cit. 14 Para-cited from Robert Maycock, “Last Night of the Proms. Birtwistle’s Premiere”, The Independent, September 18, 1995, 10. 15 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 111–112. 16 Ibid. 17 Para-cited from Robert Maycock, “Last Night”, op. cit. 18 Para-cited from the entry on “Up yours!” in Brewer’s Dictionary op. cit., 1435. 19 Para-cited from Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “The Dead Pan”.
86 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms
3. The work’s title [meaning a sudden fright, particularly without real cause; terror inspired by a trifling cause; from Greek panikos, of or belonging to Pan, the god who was believed to inspire sudden fear, fear arising among people with- out visible cause] suggests that the piece, far from disregarding the nature of the event for which it was written was devised as an act of deliberate provocation.20 Was Birtwistle cocking a snook at a somewhat pompous middle-class tradi- tion?21 [Cock a snook is to do something intentionally to show you have no re- spect for someone or something; to make a rude gesture by putting one thumb to the nose with the fingers of the hand outstretched; to show contempt by being insulting or offensive. If you cock a snook at someone in authority or at an or- ganization, you do something that they cannot punish you for, but which insults them or expresses contempt. [Mainly British journalism] Tories cocked a snook at their prime minister over this legislation.]22 I wouldn’t know how to do that. I wouldn’t be interested in doing it. It’s not what I’m in the business of writing music for. I don’t write music in order to irritate anyone.23 [The truth is we have no idea at all where this phrase comes from. The ges- ture of derision it encapsulates is that of putting one’s thumb to one’s nose and extending the fingers. Waggling them is optional but greatly improves the effec- tiveness of the insult. The gesture is widespread but names for it vary: cocking a snook is mainly the British name for what Americans, I think, sometimes de- scribe as a five-fingered salute. Cock here is a verb with the sense of sticking something out stiffly in an attitude of defiance, as the cockerel’s neck, crest and tail is erect when he crows. But snook is not so easily explainable, since the word turns up only in this phrase. there’s an example known from 1791, but the phrase doesn’t become widely recorded until the last years of the nineteenth century. There is some sug- gestion that it is a variant form of snout, which would make sense.]24 I wouldn’t know how to do that. I wouldn’t be interested in doing it. It’s not what I’m in the business of writing music for.
20 Para-cited from Robert Adlington, “Harrison Birtwistle’s Recent Music”, op. cit., 191. 21 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle’, op. cit., 14. 22 Para-cited from the entry on “cock a snook” in Collins Online English Dictionary. 23 “I wouldn’t know … irritate anyone”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, interview with John Tulsa, BBC Radio 3, July 1, 2001. 24 “The truth is … make sense”. Para-cited from the entry on “cock a snook”, Collins Online Dictionary.
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I don’t write music in order to irritate anyone. Panic was composed in response to John Drummond’s request for a work to be performed at the 1995 Last Night of the Proms and my own desire to write a work as a showcase for the saxophonist John Harle. I have called the work a dithyramb, in classical Greece, a choric song in honour of Dionysius, whose wild exuberance here runs riot. The soloist, as cho- rus leader, is identified with the mythic god Pan, literally ‘spreading ruin and scattering ban’ as in the quotation from Elizabeth Barrett Browning with which I preface this score. The title Panic refers to the feeling of ecstasy and terror expe- rienced by animals in the night at the sound of Pan’s music.25 The chaos wreaked by Pan is exemplified by the conflict between the -or chestra and the alto saxophone soloist together with the drum kit. At times the two odd-men-out rebel and branch out, adopting tempos independent of the or- chestra. The composer wishes to capture the spirit of an improvising jazz drummer rather than the absolute precision of the classical percussionist. This is not to imply any lack of rigour: the essential rhythmic framework is shown throughout in large notes.26 The important thing was to find a way of doing it that retains the energy of the drum kit that comes from it not being notated. And it’s also important that it doesn’t have the cliché of a drum kit. That’s proving very difficult. But we’ll see where we go. (Pause). It’s a very different sort of energy in music when it’s not notated. So it’s an attempt to keep that energy without it being a cliché.27 [But being a cliché seems to be precisely what the commentators insisted upon] In many ways the piece is Drummond’s own arrogant farewell gesture, the expression of compositional certainty and confidence.28 [And what’s the matter with that, I wonder] Sir Harry has never been one for taking much notice of his audience. “I can’t consider anything to do with who listens [to my music]”, he told Sue Law-
25 “Panic was composed … Pan’s music”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, “Compos- er’s Note”, Panic. A Dithyramb for alto Saxophone, Drum Kit, Wind, Brass and Percussion. Boosey and Hawkes Music Publishers Limited n.d. 26 “The chaos … large notes”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, “Note On the Solo Drum Kit Part”, Panic. A Dithyramb, op. cit. 27 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in interview with Dan Warburton, July 8, 1995 at www.paristransatlantic/artic.com/magazine/interviews/birtwistle. 28 Para-cited from Adlington, The Music of Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 192.
88 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms ley on Desert Island Discs. So we can’t say we weren’t warned. As the establish- ment’s anti-establishment figure, he’d already served notice of what he might do with a Proms commission in his gruff, cock-a-snook fanfare for the opening of the rebuilt Glyndbourne.29 I wouldn’t know how to do that. I wouldn’t be interested in doing it. It’s not what I’m in the business of writing music for I don’t write music in order to irritate anyone. 4. The last night of the Proms is an occasion when everyone can let their hair down in the Albert Hall. But before the concluding high jinks the audience finds comfort in a cocoon of jingoism symbolized by the singing of “Jerusalem” and “Rule Britannia”.30 [Cocoon. 1.n. Silky case spun by insect larva to protect it as a chrysalis, esp. that of silkworm; similar structure made by other animals, protective covering. 2.vb. form, wrap (as) in cocoon; spray with protective coating]31 [Jingoism. The policy and practices of jingoes. Jingo. A nickname for those who supported the policy of Lord Beaconfield in sending a British fleet into Turkish waters to resist the advance of Russia in 1878; hence a blatant “patriot”, a Chauvinist. Originally a piece of conjurer’s gibberish; unintelligible speech; inarticulate chatter, jargon]32 In a sequence that traditionally includes Edward Elgar’s “Pomp and Cir- cumstance March No.1” to part of which “Land of Hope and Glory” is sung, Henry Wood’s “Fantasia on British Songs”, and the British national anthem in recent years in an arrangement by Benjamin Britten.33 Land of Hope and Glory, Mother of the Free How shall we extol thee, who are born of thee? God, who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet, God, who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet. “Land of Hope and Glory” has traditionally been sung as the first song amidst the flag-waving at the climax of the Last Night of the Proms. The words were fitted to the melody of the trio theme of the “Pomp and Circumstance March” on the suggestion of King Edward VII who told Elgar he thought the
29 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, “Thoughts on First Hearing Sir Harrison Birtwistle’s Pan- ic”, Tempo, 195, January 1996, 33. 30 Para-cited from Hall, Recent Years, op. cit., 129. 31 Para-cited from the entry on “cocoon” in The Oxford English Dictionary, op. cit. 32 Para-cited from the entry on “jingoism” in The Oxford English Dictionary, op. cit. 33 Para-cited from Wikipedia entry on “Last Night of the Proms”.
89 New Sound 51, I /2018 melody would make a great song. When Elgar was requested to write a work for the king’s coronation, he worked the suggestion into his Coronation Ode, for which he asked the poet and essayist A. C. Benson to write the words. The last section of the Ode uses the march’s melody. Due to the king’s illness, the coro- nation was postponed. Elgar created a separate song, which was first performed by Madame Clara Butt in June 1902.34 Dear Land of Hope, thy hope is crowned, God made thee mightier yet! On Sov’ran brows, beloved, renowned, Once more thy crown is set. Thy equal laws, by freedom gained, Have ruled thee well and long; By Freedom Gained, by Truth maintained, Thine Empire shall be strong. The writing of the song is contemporaneous with the publication of Cecil Rhodes’ will in which he bequeathed his considerable wealth for the specific purpose of promoting “the extension of British Rule throughout the world”, and added a long list of territories which he wanted brought under British rule and colonized by British people. The reference to the extension of the British Em- pire’s boundaries may reflect the Boer War, recently won at the time of writing, in which the United Kingdom gained further territory, endowed with consider- able wealth.35 Thy fame is ancient as the days, As Ocean large and wide: A pride that dares, and heeds not praise, A stern and silent pride; Not that false joy that dreams content With what our sires have won; The blood a hero sire hath spent Still nerves a hero son. A 2006 survey conducted by the BBC suggested that 55% of the English public would rather have “Land of Hope and Glory” than “God Save the Queen” as their national anthem.36
34 Para-cited from Wikipedia entry on “Land of Hope and Glory”. 35 Ibid. 36 Ibid.
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5. Jerusalem, the boldly idealistic song known by this name, which from the 1920s assumed almost the position of a secondary British National Anthem, is a setting by Hubert Parry of words by the poet-painter William Blake (1757– 1827).37 And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England’s mountains green: And was the holy Lamb of God, On England’s pleasant pastures seen! And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills? The setting dates from 1915 or 1916 and was made on the suggestion of Robert Bridges, the then Poet Laureate, who wanted it for a meeting of the “Fight for Right”38 movement in the Queen’s Hall, London and it later made a great impression when sung at a meeting in the Royal Albert Hall, in March 1918, to celebrate the attaining of the final stage in the “Votes for Women” cam- paign on which occasion the composer was in charge of the music.39 Bring me my Bow of burning gold; Bring me my Arrows of desire: Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my Chariot of fire! I will not cease from Mental Fight, Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hands: Till we have build Jerusalem, In England’s green and pleasant Land. The words (which, without direct mention, recall to our minds the days of infant factory labour, child chimney-climbing sweeps, farm labourers at ten shil-
37 Para-cited from the entry on “Jerusalem” in The Oxford Companion to Music, Oxford Uni- versity Press, 1974, 537. 38 The Fight for Right Movement was founded in August 1915 by Francis Younghusband. Its aim was to increase support for the First World War in Great Britain and to boost morale in the armed forces. Membership cost five shillings and members were pledged to “fight for right till right be won”, a call against disaffection in the progress and conduct of the war. 39 Para-cited from Wikipedia entry on “Right to Life”.
91 New Sound 51, I /2018 lings a week, and men transported for life for poaching a hare) are not to be confused with Blake’s larger poem “Jerusalem”.40 Blake wanted to stir people from their intellectual slumbers, and the daily grind of their toil, to see that they were captivated in the grip of a culture which kept them thinking in ways which served the interests of the powerful.41 Blake was an outspoken supporter of the French Revolution and in 1803 was charged at Chichester with high treason for having “uttered seditious and treasonable expressions”, but was acquitted. The poem expressed his desire for radical change without overt sedition. The poem, which was little known during the century which followed its writing, was included in the patriotic anthology of verse The Spirit of Man, edit- ed by the Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom, Robert Bridges, and published in 1916, at a time when morale had begun to decline because of the high number of casualties in World War I and the perception that there was no end in sight. Under these circumstances, Bridges, finding the poem an appropriate hymn text to “brace the spirit of the nation [to] accept with cheerfulness all the sacrifices necessary”, asked Sir Hubert Parry to put it to music for a Fight to Right cam- paign meeting in London’s Queen’s Hall. But Parry began to have misgivings about Fight to Right and eventually wrote to Sir Francis Younghusband, withdrawing his support entirely in May 1917. There was even concern that the composer might withdraw the song, but the situation was saved by Milicent Fawcett of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies (NUWSS). The song had been taken up by the suffragettes in 1917 and Fawcett asked Parry if it might be used at the Suffrage Demonstra- tion Concert on 13 March 1918. Parry was delighted and orchestrated the piece for the concert (it had originally been for voices and organ). After the concert Fawcett asked the composer if it might become the Women Voters’ Hymn. Parry wrote back: “I wish indeed it might become the Women Voters’ Hymn, as you suggest. People seem to enjoy singing it. And having the vote ought to diffuse a good deal of joy. So they should combine happily.” Accordingly, he assigned the copyright to the NUWSS. When that orga- nization was wound up in 1928, Parry’s executives reassigned the copyright to the Women’s Institutes, where it remained until it entered the public domain in 1968.42
40 Para-cited from the entry on “Jerusalem” in The Oxford Campanion, op. cit. 41 Para-cited from Christopher Rowland, cited in Wikipedia entry on “Jerusalem”. 42 “Blake was an outspoken supporter … 1968”. Para-cited from Wikipedia entry on “Jeru- salem”.
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[It is somewhat ironic therefore – or perhaps not – that it was more than one hundred years before the Last Night of the Proms actually featured a woman conductor for the first time, the American Marin Alsop in 2013. While the first non-British conductor to lead the proceedings was Charles Mackerras in1980. Make of this what you will.] “Jerusalem” is considered to be England’s most popular patriotic song; The New York Times said it was “fast becoming an alternative national anthem” and there have even been calls to give it official status. Many schools use the song, especially public [i.e. private] schools in Great Britain and several private schools in Australia, New Zealand, New England and Canada. “Jerusalem” was chosen as the opening hymn for the 2012 London Olympics. It is the official hymn of the English and Wales Cricket Board and since 2004 has been the an- them of the English cricket team, being played before each day of their home test matches. It is traditionally sung before rugby league’s Challenge Cup Final, along with “Abide With Me”, and before the Super League Grand Final, where it is introduced as “the rugby league anthem”. It was one of three “hymns” sung at the wedding of Prince William, the Duke of Cambridge, and Catherine Middle- ton. At a concert at the Royal Albert Hall on 4 July 2009, Jeff Beck performed a version featuring his touring band at the time and guest appearance by David Gilmour. While, along with “The Red Flag”, it is sung each year at the closing of the annual Labour Party Conference.43 There’s a moral in the fate of Jerusalem. The gentlemanly Parry thought he was being radical when he set Blake’s fiery tract. But he underplayed the crucial passage, the dark satanic mills, and now look what happens – people wave Union Jack flags while they sing it, for heaven’s sake. We change from firebrands to pillars of the Establishment before we know it.44 So has he become Establishment? Well, I might be, sort of, but my music isn’t.45 6. Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves Britons never, never, never shall be slaves. Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.46
43 Ibid. 44 Para-cited from Robert Maycock, “Last Night”, op. cit. 45 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Ivan Hewett, “You Have to Have a Vision”, arts. telegraph, October 3, 2003. 46 This is how the chorus is usually sung these days. But see below for the original and the history of its changes.
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The music of “Rule, Britannia!” is by Thomas Arne and the words by James Thompson (1700–1748). It was first performed in the masque of Alfred, pro- duced in the grounds of the Prince of Wales, Frederick (Cliefden House, Maid- enhead) on 1 August 1740 to commemorate the accession of George II and the third birthday of the Princess Augusta. The words of the masque were published three weeks later. The song with its music was published a few months later still in an appendix to Arne’s music to Congreve’s Judgment of Paris.47 When Britain first, at heaven’s command Arose from out the azure main; Thus was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sang this strain: Rule, Britannia! rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves. The nations not so blessed as thee, Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish great and free, The dread and envy of them all. Rule, Britannia! rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves.
Thompson was a Scottish poet and playwright who spent most of his adult life in England and hoped to make his fortune at court. He had an interest in helping foster a British identity, including and transcending the older English, Irish, Welsh and Scottish identities.48 Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful, from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies, Serves but to root thy native oak. Rule, Britannia! rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves.
Wagner is reported to have said that the first eight notes of the tune ex- pressed the whole character of the British nation, or words to that effect. The
47 Para-cited from Wikipedia entry on “Rule, Britannia!” 48 Ibid.
94 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms melody was the theme for a set of variations for piano by Beethoven and he also used it in “Wellington’s Victory”, Op. 91. Wagner himself wrote a concert overture in D major based on the theme in 1837, WWV 42, and Johann Strauss I quoted the song in full as the introduction to his 1838 waltz “Huldigung der Konigin Victoria von Grossbritannien” (Homage to Queen Victoria of Great Britain), Op. 103, where he quotes the British national anthem ’God Save the Queen’ at the end of the piece. According to David Armitage “Rule, Britannia!” was the most lasting ex- pression of the conception of Britain and the British Empire that emerged in the 1730s, “predicated on a mixture of adulterated mercantilism, nationalistic anxi- ety and libertarian fervour”.49 Thee haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame: All their attempts to bend thee down, Will but arouse thy generous flame; But work their woe and thy renown. Rule, Britannia! rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves. At the time of its appearance the song was not a celebration of an existing state of naval affairs, but an exhortation. Although the Dutch Republic, which in the 17th century presented a major challenge to English sea power, was obvious- ly past its peak by 1745, Britain did not yet “rule the waves”. The time was still to come when the Royal Navy would be an unchallenged dominant force on the oceans.50 To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine: All thine shall be the subject main, And every shore it circles thine. Rule, Britannia! rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves. “Rule, Britannia!” is often written as simple “Rule Britannia”, erroneously omitting both the comma and the exclamation mark, which changes the interpre- tation of the lyric by altering the grammar. Maurice Willson Disher notes that the change from “Britannia, rule the waves!” to “Britannia rules the waves” oc- curred in the Victorian era, at a time when the British did rule the waves and no
49 “Wagner … favour”. Ibid. 50 Ibid.
95 New Sound 51, I /2018 longer needed to be exhorted to rule them. Disher also notes that the Victorians changed “will” to “shall” in the line “Britons never shall be slaves”.51 The Muses, still with freedom found, Shall to thy happy coast repair; Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown’d And manly hearts to guard thee fair. Rule, Britannia! rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves. It is sad to have to admit that the chorus of “Rule Britannia!” is the only part of it the ordinary British man, woman or child can repeat when called upon, and that he, she, or it makes the confident but unauthorized statement, “Britannia rules the waves” instead of uttering the poet’s stern advice or nowadays wistful command, “Britannia, rule the waves!”52 Sad indeed! Quod erat demonstrandum. High jinks and jingoism at the last night of the Proms – thrown into a panic by Panic.
7. In recent years the saxophone concerto has been a favoured vehicle for as- sorted musical confections and palliatives, so it seemed that the giddy high spir- its of the Proms Last Night might be well served by this latest contribution to the genre. But Panic divested itself of its sheep’s clothing to reveal a wolf of such uncontainable ferocity that even those who sought to emphasize the celebratory, Dionysian qualities of Birtwistle’s modernism must have paused for thought.53 There is much – too much – to contemplate in this summary but exempla- ry diagnosis of Panic as beyond the pale of musical propriety: of Christianity, Greek mythology, and even Birtwistle’s modernism itself. Beyond the Pale. Outside the limits of what is acceptable, especially in terms of civilized behaviour. “Pale” in this context is a wooden fence surround- ing and demarcating a piece of territory (from Latin palum, “stake”), with the implication that those who live outside it are barbarians.54
51 Ibid. 52 Para-cited from entry on “Rule, Britannia!” in Oxford Companion to Music, op. cit., 897– 898. 53 Para-cited from Robert Adlington, “Harrison Birtwistle’s Recent Music”, op. cit., 136. 54 Para-cited from entry on “Beyond the Pale” in Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, op. cit., 136.
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Barbarians. The Greek and Romans called all foreigners “barbarians” since they were “babblers, speaking a language not understood by them. The word is thus imitative of speech that is unintelligible. The extension of meaning to imply “uncivilized” or “uncultured” is a natural consequence.55 (note the lack of strings – the voice of civilized culture) So, let us also pause for thought. The dozing sages drop the drowsy strain, Then pause, and puff – and speak, and pause again – 56 First, there is the question of the saxophone concerto posited here as “a favoured vehicle”, indeed “genre”, for “assorted musical confections and pallia- tives”. Really? The saxophone concerto? Confection. Anything prepared or preserved with sugar, as fruit; a sweet- meat; a composition or mixture. Mixing compounding; thing compounded, esp. preserve, sweetmeat, ready-made article of (usu. female) dress, mantle, wrap, &c.57 Palliative. Serving to cloak or conceal; serving to relieve (disease) superfi- cially or temporarily, or to mitigate (pain, etc.). Tending to extenuate or excuse; an extenuating representation. Extenuating. That extenuates, chiefly inextenuat - ing circumstances: circumstances that tend to diminish culpability.58 Really? The saxophone concerto? associated with sweetmeat, preserved with sugar, ready-made, serving to cloak or conceal, extenuate or excuse, relieve disease, mitigate pain, diminish responsibility? Really? The saxophone? An instrument whose very sound – which has been de- scribed as ‘carnal’ and “voluptuous”– caused it to be banned by Nazis and Com- munists; and religious leaders, including the Vatican, deemed “profane”?59 Well, that’s the saxophone for you, controversial from the very start. The biggest issue for Adolphe Sax right after he invented the horn in the 1840s was that his saxophone threatened to put out of business all sorts of other instrument makers. The saxophone is so flexible in its sound, it can sound like
55 Para-cited from entry on “Barbarians” in Brewer’s op. cit., 104. 56 Para-cited from William Cowper (1731–1800), “Conversation”. 57 Para-cited from entry on “confection” in Consolidated-Webster Encyclopedic Dictionary, 1946. 58 Para-cited from entry on “palliative” in The Oxford English Dictionary, op. cit. 59 “An instrument . . . profane”. Para-cited from Kris Dahl’s review of Michael Segell, The Devil’s Horn: The Story of the Saxophone, from Noisy Novelty to King of Cool, in Publisher’s Weekly, October 2005.
97 New Sound 51, I /2018 an oboe, a bassoon, a French horn, a flute. You can do all sorts of things with it. And when he won his contract to have the saxophone placed in the French mili- tary ensembles he obviously was going to put out of business a lot people. They formed this Association of United Instrument Makers and they twice tried to kill him. They burned down his factory. And that legacy seems to have followed the saxophone right up until the present. It just gets people’s goats.60 To get someone’s goat. To make someone annoyed or angry. “Gavin may seem unflappable but I know a way to get his goat”. The origin of this expres- sion is disputed. H. L. Mencken held it came from a tradition in horse-racing. Thought to have a calming effect on highstrung thorough-breds, a goat was placed in the horse’s stall on the night before the race.61 Highstrung. Highly sensitive or nervous and tense, from the tuning of stringed instruments, strung to a high tension or pitch.62 Unscrupulous opponents would then steal the goat in an effort to upset the horse and cause it to lose the race. However, there is no firm evidence for this origin c. 1900.63 Is that why it’s sort of had a seedy reputation for so long?64 Seedy. Full of seed, going to seed; (of brandy) having flavour attributed to weeds among the vines; (colloq.) shabby-looking, in worn clothes, out of sorts, feeling ill; seed-toe, disease of horse’s foot.65 The seedy reputation probably began in 1903 when the Vatican declared that the saxophone gave reasonable concern for disgust and scandal. Now you have to wonder how the pope would have figured this out, you know, sitting in his apartment listening to some wax cylinders of saxophone music and saying, “Wow, that’s profane. That’s what profane music is”. And then in the teens, when there was the dance craze in America and ev- eryone was boogalooing and doing a lot of dirty dancing in the seedier night clubs, which is naturally where the saxophone gravitated to, the Ladies’ Home Journal wrote that the saxophone rendered listeners incapable of distinguishing between right and wrong and evil and good.
60 “Well, that’s the saxophone … gets people’s goats”. Para-cited from Michael Segell, inter- view with Liane Hansen, NPR, November 6, 2005. 61 Para-cited from entry on “to get someone’s goat” in Dictionary.com. 62 Para-cited from entry on “highstrung” in The Oxford English Dictionary and Collins On- line Dictionary. 63 Para-cited from entry on “to get someone’s goat” in Dictionary.com. 64 Para-cited from Liane Hansen, interview with Michael Segell, NPR, op. cit. 65 Para-cited from entry on “seedy” in Oxford English Dictionary.
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And I think the apotheosis of all this scapegoating of the saxophone oc- curred in 1954 when Elia Kazan made the movie version of “A Streetcar Named Desire”.66 Scapegoat. Person or animal which takes on the sins of others, or is unfairly blamed for a problem. The concept originally came from Leviticus, in which a goat is designated to be cast into the desert with the sins of the community. And Aaron shall cast lots upon two goats: one lot for the LORD, and the other lot for Axazei. Other ancient societies had similar practices. In psychology and sociol- ogy, the practice of selecting someone as a scapegoat has led to the concept of scapegoating.67 And there’s a scene in the movie in which Stella and Stanley have a fight and Stella is standing at the top of that wrought-iron staircase in her sultry New Orleans apartment, and they’re coming back together. And in the background is a sultry saxophone solo. The Legion of Decency screened the movie. They would either give their imprimatur to movies or they would say that we can’t possibly endorse this. And they said we can’t possible endorse this not because of that scene, but because of the so-called carnal, voluptuous sound of the saxo- phone. But interestingly, the saxophone ended up empowering three very disen- franchised groups in America and they would be African-Americans, women, and children. It wasn’t really until the soloists broke out of the dance bands – and they would be Coleman Hawkins and Chu Berry and Ben Webster and May- or Lester Young – that the saxophone really found the voice that we think of today. Something very similar happened with women in the teens. It was con- sidered impolite for women to play an instrument in public and yet in the teens around the time of the suffrage movement, women formed in America all-fe- male, all-saxophone bands of four, eight, 12, 20 saxophones. And the short story with the children is that the profits from the enormous sales of saxophones in the teens and the ‘20s, when a million and a half saxophones were sold in America during what was known as the saxophone craze, basically subsidized music ed- ucation in America thanks to the instrument makers, who were self-serving by giving their instruments away to fledgling bands in public school.68
66 “The seedy reputation … Desire”. Para-cited from Michael Segell, interview with Liane Hansen, NPR, op. cit. 67 Para-cited from Wikipedia entry on “scapegoat”. * Cf. The 1918 dedication of Jerusalem as The Women Voters’ Hymn as discussed in # 5 above 68 “And there’s a scene ... public school”. Para-cited from Michael Segell NPR interview op. cit.
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Strange then to associate the saxophone, the eponymous Devil’s Horn – controversial from the start – with palliatives: things that serve to palliate, to al- leviate (disease) without curing, to extenuate, to excuse; and confections: sweet- meats, shaped morsels of confectionary usually consisting chiefly of sugar or chocolate, fruit preserved in sugar, bonbon, sugarplum, good. And thus and therefore Panic with a wolf divested of its sheep’s clothing. A wolf of such uncontainable ferocity that even those who sought to em- phasize the celebratory Dionysian qualities of Birtwistle’s modernism must have paused for thought.69 [Wolf. Erect-eared, straight-tailed harsh-furred tawney-grey, wild gregari- ous carnivorous quadruped allied to dog, preyer on sheep etc. or combining in packs to hunt larger animals; rapacious or greedy person.]70 [Sheep. Kinds of wild or domesticated timid gregarious woolly sometimes horned ruminant mammal of which the male is named ram, the female ewe, and the young lamb (sheep and goats, the good and the bad, see Matt. xxv. 33: “And he shall set the sheep on his right side, but the goats on the left”).]71 Beware the false prophets which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but in- wardly they are ravening wolves. What could he have been thinking of? A Streetcar Named Desire? The dozing sages drop the drowsy strain, Then pause, and puff – and speak, and pause again –
8. Once again, Birtwistle has utilized a mythical character to help unleash the powerful forces of the unconscious.72 What comes first? Is it an idea, or a shape, an architecture? No. I’m not an architectural composer. What comes first is an idea while I’m writing the last piece. I can see there’s a way forward in doing something which might exploit something that I couldn’t exploit in the last piece. This piece I’m working on now – I can see a lot directions it could go. This is “Panic”, your commission for the last night of the Proms? But I thought the rehearsals were this weekend. They are. They’ll do some of it. There are lots of ideas. You find a way to end the piece and a lot of them are not there. So you don’t know how long it’s going to take?
69 Robert Adlington, “Harrison Birtwistile’s Recent Music”, op. cit., 2. 70 Para-cited from entry on “wolf” in Oxford English Dictionary. 71 Para-cited from entry on “sheep” in Oxford English Dictionary. 72 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 111.
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I never do. How do you feel about having this piece on the same bill as “Pomp and Circumstance March Number 5”? Nothing to do with it. You once compared composing to dry stone walling. What did you mean? I’m a dry stone waller. (Pause) I was brought up – so were you, in the North – we know what dry stone walls are.73 Dry stone walls are made of stone without any cement or motar. This tradi- tional technique originated before cement was invented. It does not need the cost of cement, and more important, such walls will last longer than cement walls if the ground is soft and the foundations move. If the wall has been well made, the stones will move but still stay together. Dry stone walls were all made for a particular function. Usually they were an aid to farming by forming a long-standing field barrier, using readily avail- able materials. They keep livestock and wild animals from crops, define the property boundary and also provide a use for the stone removed from the field so that grass and crops can grow better. But dry stone walls are an important and attractive part of the present land- scape. They follow the form of the land and lead the eye. They are close to the earth and rarely higher than shoulder. You can always look over them. Dry stone walls are a direct link to local history. Not only were many built and repaired, with great effort, by the ancestors of local families but they are also of interest because of the variations in the local styles of construction and the features found. The styles are directly related to the shape and hardness of the stone available locally.74 But you know what’s interesting about dry stone walls? It started in the eighteenth century, I think. The people who built them had to provide their own stones, and they were paid per hundred yards, something like threepence. What I remember about this old guy who did it was, when he picked up a stone, he never tried it. He always had a place for it.75 What I do is a bit like that. My material has been created by some chance operation. I pick up the first thing that comes to hand and find the most suitable
73 “What comes first … stone walls are.” Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, interview with Dan Warburton, July 8, 1995 at www.paristransatlantic/artic.com/magazine/inter- views/birtwistle. 74 “Dry stone walls … locally”. Para-cited from “Walls Need Friends”, Dry Stone Walling Association of Great Britain at www.dswa.org.uk/Publications/Leaflets/walls. 75 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, interview with Dan Warburton, op. cit.
101 New Sound 51, I /2018 place for it. Having created a context I then generate more material and so the piece gets bigger.76
9. That Panic seemed to touch deep fears is evinced by the ferocious public response to the work, echoed in the tabloid newspapers.77 Ferocious. Fierce, savage, cruel [L. ferus, fierce, wild]78 O Swallow, Swallow flying flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee. O tell her, Swallow, though that knowest each, That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, And dark and true and tender is the North.79 Fierce. Violent in hostility, angrily combative; raging, vehement [L. ferus, savage]80 Black it stood as night Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, And shook a dreadful dart.81 Or did the outrage generated by Panic reveal a deeper horror at being con- fronted by the terror of the shadow of the repressed unconscious?82 Only a dilettante will even try to reduce everything about art to the uncon- scious, reiterating one hackneyed psychoanalytic cliché after another.83 My attitude to writing is, it’s like when you do wallpapering, you know, you remember where all the little bits are that don’t meet, you think: “Oh my God that’s horrible”. And then your friends come and say: “Who did this wallpaper- ing? It’s terrific!” (Laughs) After a while you live with it and you forget about that.84
76 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Michael Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 149. 77 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 114. 78 Para-cited from the entry on “ferocious”, Oxford English Dictionary. 79 Para-cited from Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809 – 1914), “Song”. 80 Para-cited from the entry on “fierce”, Oxford English Dictionary. 81 Para-cited from John Milton (1608–1675), “Paradise Lost”, l. 666. 82 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 114. 83 Para-cited from Theodor Adorno, Aesthetic Theory. Translated by C. Leinhardt. Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984, 13. 84 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, interview with Dan Warburton, op. cit.
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It’s like shells on a shore: I compose each shell but they’re all slightly dif- ferent, and they’re thrown by circumstance on the shore, by what the sea does to them.85 But you don’t in fact allow the bits to be put together in different ways. No, I decide what the order is through my ears, through my intuition, through whatever composition is. Do you allow the possibility that it could be otherwise? No. It’s a funny double standard, but once it’s there it becomes a fact. You take a photograph of the seashore, to continue the analogy: when I click the camera, that’s my photograph.86 To change the analogy, I also feel like one of those medieval carvers Nich- olas Pevsner discusses in those books he wrote for King Penguin’s: I carve the stone or the piece of wood to make the object I want, but there are elements in the material beyond my control. So the essential nature of the stone or the wood remains inviolate. It has a life of its own.87
10. For me, it is undoubtedly a music with primordial expressivity. Its power, its excitement, even its danger comes from its predominantly Dionysian direct- ness, from the pleasure it takes in the immediate (sonic, rhythmic), from its cele- bration of the rough bodily physicality of its soloists seemingly uninfluenced by the rational Apollo.88 It’s a nineteenth century, romantic idea that creative artists are people who are preoccupied with self-expression. What really pre-occupies artists is simply how the hell you do it.89 I’m very interested in formality, used as a frame for unpredictable events. To make forms that are in a sense unique.90 All that matters is that the composer has a responsibility to his materials. But that’s obvious.91
85 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Paul Griffiths,New Sounds, new Perspectives: Brit- ish Composers of the 1980s, Faber Music Ltd., 1985, 191. 86 “But you don’t … photograph”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, interview with Dan Warburton, op. cit. 87 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 149–150. 88 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 114. 89 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Michael Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 147–148. 90 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in discussion with Ross Lorraine in “Territorial Rites 2”, The Musical Times, November 1997, 16. 91 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 149.
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I know what material is. I don’t think I always did, but I do now. I’m not trying to carve out of stone when I have a piece of wood.92 The roughness of the sound can come over as violence? In my work? No, I don’t think it’s violent. It’s to do with the nature of the material.93 I’ve never tried to fight it; I’ve tried to understand it. To understand the na- ture of your material is the most important thing for creativity.94 The music I write needs a physical presence. Something like Xenakis’s mu- sic can only exist because it’s loud. It speaks through four ffffs. With my mate- rial it might come over superficially as violent, but I don’t feel I’m expressing anything. [Pause] I could contradict that. Maybe it is violent, I don’t know.95 It’s a question of what’s the bread, and what’s the filling. I like to think that in my music there’s an ambiguity about what the bread is and what the filling is.96 It’s like a journey. Like the Klee idea of taking a line for a walk. An active line on a walk, moving freely, without a goal. A walk for a walk’s sake. I don’t have a map of the journey, just a direction.97 Music is an incremental art. It has a life of its own. The decisions about where to go derive from the context of where you are at any moment.98 You need a method of working which enables you to manipulate the ma- terial. I’ve certainly created a vocabulary for doing things but some items get thrown out, some forgotten. I’ve become acutely aware of the sanctity of the context.99 Writing music is a very hard grind. Spontaneity takes time. Ten seconds of music takes two days to build. Sticking together very small notes. Finding the right stone for the right place. Pebble by pebble by pebble.
92 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Griffiths, New Sounds, op. cit., 192. 93 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Norman Lebrecht, “Music that Makes a Stand: Nor- man Lebrecht talks to Harrison Birtwistle”, ENO & Friends, 10, Summer 1986, 10. 94 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Griffiths, New Sounds, op. cit., 192. 95 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Norman Lebrecht, “Music that Makes a Stand”, op. cit., 10. 96 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in discussion with Ross Lorraine in “Territorial Rites 1”, The Musical Times, October 1997, 8. 97 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in discussion with Ross Lorraine in “Territorial Rites 2”, op. cit., 16; and Paul Klee, Pedagogical Sketchbook, Praeger, [c1953]. 98 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, “Commentary” at “Making Music. Harrison Birtwistle”, Zankel Hall at Carnegie, January 31, 2005; and Harrison Birtwistle in Ross Lor- raine “Territorial Rites 2”, op. cit., 16. 99 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 149.
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I worry a great deal. It keeps me awake at night. I can only believe in what I’m doing at the moment. It’s the most terrifying thing to do. You have to go in with your wellies – and do it.100
11. He is a blinkered, single-minded composer; he only hears what he wants to hear, in the way he wants to hear it.101 Blinker. 1.n.(usu. in pl.) Leather screen(s) on bridle preventing horse from seeing sideways. 2. v.t. (esp. fig.) Obscure with blinkers.102 There are no songs, sonatas, quartets, concertos or symphonies. None of the abstract forms which have dominated music since the eighteenth century. Nor are there any of the equally abstract ‘process’ titles other contemporary com- posers adopt. When not referring to a text he is setting, the titles of his pieces suggest an older, less sophisticated tradition. Monody for Corpus Christi, En- tr’actes, Chorales, Tragoedia, Verses, Eight Lessons for Keyboards.103 Perhaps the explanation lies in his background?104 [Background. Part of scene, picture, or description, that serves as setting to chief figures or objects and foreground. (fig) Obscurity or retirement; person’s cultural knowledge, education, experience, etc., information needed to under- stand problem etc.]105 Mrs. Rode’s background and education did not naturally prepare her for our ways. It was a question of enlightenment, not criticism. Do I make myself clear? She would never really have fitted in. Her background was against her. The fault was not hers – it was her background which, as I say was unfortunate.106 As state-funded grammar-school boys their backgrounds were very differ- ent from the privileged upbringing of previous generations of London based composers. They breathed a different air; they were less constrained by conven- tion.107
100 “Writing music … do it”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, “Commentary”, at “Mak- ing Music”, Zankel Hall, op. cit.; and Harrison Birtwistle, interview with John Tulsa, BBC, Radio 3, July 1, 2001. 101 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 9. 102 Para-cited from the entry on “blinker” in The Oxford English Dictionary. 103 Para-cited from Michael Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 4. 104 Ibid. 105 Para-cited from the entry on “background” in The Oxford English Dictionary. 106 Para-cited from John Le Carré, A Murder of Quality, Penguin Books, 1964, 54. 107 Para-cited from Jonathan Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 11.
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Take poor Rode, for instance. I certainly don’t hold Rode’s background against him in any way, poor fellow. The grammar schools do a splendid job, I am sure. Besides, he settled down very well. I told the Master so. With careful instruction, such people can, as I said to Master, learn our customs and even our manners; and the Master agreed.108 [Grammar Schools. The somewhat forbidding name has its origins in the medieval schools established by pious founders to provide free education for local children. The schools were largely dependent on the church, and as Latin was then the universal language of knowledge and communication, it figured largely in the timetable. Hence the grammar of the title. The schools gradually declined over the years mainly because of a diminution in endowments, and by the 19th century they were in a poor state. The Grammar School Act of 1840 then authorized governing bodies to introduce a wider range of subjects. Both board- ing and day schools developed, and it was from the former that public schools emerged.]109 Thou hast traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a gram- mar school: and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used; and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.110 [Public Schools. The schools so designated are in fact private (fee-paying) and independent. The came to be so-called in the 18th century when the repu- tation of grammar schools spread beyond their immediate neighbourhood and they began taking resident students from elsewhere. They were thus open to all, and not completely local.]111 Grammar schoolboy music is tough and gritty.112 I like the idea that there’s a bit of dirt in it. I would have been a terrible jeweler. Boulez is a musical jeweler. But I don’t think of myself as a lesser art- ist because of that. Experience makes other problems. By which I mean you remember the wounds and they heal, but there are boils and sores and other wounds that appear.113
108 Para-cited from John Le Carré, A Murder of Quality, op. cit., 56. 109 Para-cited from the entry on “Grammar School” in Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, op. cit., 604–605. 110 Para-cited from William Shakespeare, Henry VI Part 2, IV, viii, 35. 111 Para-cited from the entry on “Public School” in Brewer’s, op. cit., 118. 112 Para-cited from Dai Griffiths, “Genre: Grammar Schoolboy Music”, Critical Musicology Newsletter, 3, 1995, # 3. 113 Para-cited from Stuart Jeffries, “Up the Garden Path”, The Guardian, November 28, 2003.
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The classic exponents of grammar schoolboy music were the New Man- chester School and its acolytes. Grammar schoolboy music is scored for orches- tras, not studios. Grammar schoolboy music is uncompromising: it doesn’t com- promise with pop music in particular.114 He is however, an unexpected champion of the Police. I thought they were pretty good. He can’t act for toffee, though. What about Sting’s solo music? Birtwistle stares silently out of the window. He is belatedly getting into Roy Orbison. Why? He’s very cool. He has a proper expressive voice, like a good lieder singer. My premise is if it’s interesting, it’s worth a detour.115 The refusal by works of art to consent to compromise implies also a critical stance towards the notion of internal consistency, which is the quality of uncom- promising elaboration and integration.116 The home of grammar schoolboy music is the university music department. No-one else wants it. Grammar schoolboy music is the practice, music analysis the theory. Music analysis is also full of grammar schoolboys, except that they didn’t have quite the narcissism, self-pity, ambition, or talent to produce gram- mar schoolboy music. Without music analysis grammar schoolboy music’s in trouble – deep. No- one wants to hear it; what they want to hear is the bits when grammar schoolboy music stops being grammar schoolboy music.117 We have a generation of young composers in this country who are amoebas, who come into the world fully formed. I make no more claims for them. For me, I have a music in my head but I don’t feel I had the technical equipment or the tools to make it come out. He declines to name these amoebas. I very much identify with painters and sculptors. I suppose it’s called the struggle. I don’t know. But I feel closer to people like Klee and Cézanne. Think of those views of Mont Saint Victoire. The subject matter falls out as irrelevant, the different views on the same thing are what it’s about. That’s much more me.118
114 Para-cited from Dai Griffiths, “Genre”, op. cit., #3. 115 “He is however …. detour”. Para-cited from Stuart Jeffries, “Up the Garden Path”, op.cit. 116 Para-cited from Theodor Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, op. cit., 67. 117 “The home of … schoolboy music”. Para-cited from Dai Griffiths, “Genre”, op. cit., #9. 118 “We have a generation … much more me”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Jeffries, “Garden Path”, op. cit.
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The most forceful and uncompromisingly original British composer of his generation.119 Perhaps the explanation lies in his background?120
12. He was born on 15 July 1934 in the Lancashire mill-town of Accrington, which is situated between the larger towns of Blackburn and Burnley, some 20 miles north of Manchester.121 Famous throughout the country for the manufacture of red brick.122 It too is uncompromising. No foliage softens the stark hills which enclose it; nothing disguises the fact that its function is purely industrial.123 We lived in a town stolen from the valleys, a huddled place full of chimneys and little shops and back-to-back houses with no gardens. The hills surrounded us, and our own swept out into the Pennines, broken now and again with a farm or a relic from the war. There used to be a lot of old tanks but the council took them away. The town was a fat blot and the streets spread back from it into the green, steadily upwards.124 There is only row upon row of workers’ cottages, and above them, domi- nating them, the tall chimneys of the mills and the high arches of the railway viaduct (an image Birtwistle uses in his second act of the Mask of Orpheus when Orpheus descends to Hades!).125 This may seem a relatively insignificant fact of biography, but it throws in- teresting light on much of his later work. Anyone who hears Birtwistle talk even today will recognize immediately that he has lost little of his soft but gruff Lan- castrian accent. Despite his many international successes, despite his prolonged
119 Para-cited from Anthony Holden’s citation of the New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians in his review of Birtwistle, Theseus Game, Earth Dances. Ensemble Modern/ Brabbins/Valade/Boulez (DG 477 0702) in The Guardian, August 1, 2004. www.theguard- ian.com/music/2004/01/classicalmusicandopera. 120 Para-cited from Michael Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 4. 121 Ibid. [Full disclosure: I too was born and brought up in Accrington, as was the novelist Jeanette Winterson cited below and the artist John Virtue.] 122 Para-cited from Dan Warburton, op.cit. [Accrington is famous also for Accrington Stan- ley, the local football team; and the Accrington Pals, the 11th Battalion (Accrington), East Lancashire Regiment: a pals battalion of Kitchener’s Army raised in and around the town of Accrington during the First World War, of which approximately 700 went into action on the first day of the Battle of the Somme, 1 July 1916, and were effectively wiped out within half an hour.] 123 Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 4. 124 Para-cited from Jeanette Winterson, Oranges are Not the Only Fruit, Pandora Press, 1985, 6. 125 Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 4.
108 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms periods of residence in the south of England, the United States, Scotland and France, despite even his espousal of a certain cosmopolitanism (he owns a mod- ishly furnished flat in London’s Docklands with commanding views of the River Thames), he seems to retain some of the manners and attitude of a working-class northerner. It is as if his roots are still firmly planted in his native region’s soil, from which he continues to draw nourishment.126 We are the only working-class composers.127 Each morning, Harrison Birtwistle walks across the garden to his studio. He goes past the potted quince and maple trees, past the bamboo and roses.128 It’s a working-class thing, I suppose, that need to get out of the house to go to work.129 His father was a farmer and his childhood home was a smallholding on the edge of Accrington, at the point where the black industrial town met the moor- land.130 [Smallholding. A small plot of agricultural land bigger than an allotment, but not big enough to be called a farm. The term received legal significance un- der the Small Holdings Act of 1892, which permitted county councils to provide them for letting. The Small Holdings and Allotments Act of 1926 defined them as of not less than an acre and not more than 50 acres, and of not more than ₤100 in annual value.]131 Looking back, Birtwistle describes it as ‘paradise’, a kind of Arcadia; it still lives with him.132 [Arcadia. A district of the Peloponnesus named after Arcas, son of Jupiter, chiefly inhabited by shepherds. It is also the abode of Pan. According to Virgil it was the home of pastoral simplicity and happiness. The name was used by Sir Philip Sidney for the title of his prose romance (1590) and it soon became a by- word for rustic bliss.]133 We first hear of the Birtwistle family with Ralph de Bridtwisell, born about 1160, and living in the now-vanished hamlet of that name, next to Hapton, near Accrington in Lancashire. In 1316, his great-great grandson, William de
126 Para-cited from Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 3. 127 Para-cited from Peter Maxwell Davies in Alexander Chancellor, “How Wonderful to See You”, The Guardian, July 21, 2004. 128 Para-cited from Stuart Jeffries, “Up the Garden Path”, op. cit. 129 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Jeffries, op. cit. 130 Para-cited from Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 7. 131 Para-cited from the entry on “smallholding” in Brewer’s Dictionary, op. cit., 1287. 132 Para-cited from Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 7. 133 Para-cited from the entry on “Arcadia” in Brewer’s, op. cit., 60.
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Bridtwisell exchanged land with John de Huncote and moved into Huncote Hall (later known as Huncoat Hall), where the main branch of the family remained for the next 450 years, buying more land and marrying into many of the prom- inent families. Later, because of their devout Catholicism throughout the Ref- ormation and beyond, and later their loyal adherence to the Royalist cause, this staunch recusant family were subjected to many trials and tribulations, including imprisonments, fines and sequestrations, so that their fortunes waxed and waned over the centuries. The hall was one of several Lancashire houses to have a Priest’s Hole – a hiding place for visiting priests during the years of persecution, when they would travel the kingdom in disguise, from safe house to safe house, saying mass and giving the sacraments to local Catholics. The Birtwistles sent many sons to be educated abroad in France, Spain and Holland. Several returned as priests and became chaplains to various Catholic families. Their relative, the martyr St. John Southworth, of the Samlesbury Hall family, was one of those who hid at Huncoat, and some records say he was captured there before his in- carceration in Lancaster Castle.134
13. Young Harry grew up with the co-existence of industry and countryside, of factory chimneys and sheep, of workers’ terraces and farmhouses. A concern for rus in urbe is, according to Pevsner, ‘eminently English’, and is entirely characteristic of Birtwistle. Panic, for instance, is a Dionysian cele- bration of the nature god Pan for the decidedly urban soloists of saxophone and drum kit plus orchestra of wind and percussion (no strings).135 [Celebration. 1. v.t. Perform publicly and duly (religious ceremony etc.); officiate at (Eucharist); observe (festival), honour with rites, festivities, etc.; praise widely, extol; 2. v. i. Officiate at Eucharist; engage in festivities after suc- cess etc.]136 These industrial sounds – of wind, brass and percussion (he has a self-con- fessed discomfort with writing for strings – the voice of civilized culture) – have dominated his sonic imagination ever since.137 As uncompromising and craggy as the Northern landscape he grew up in.138 The way he composes is typically English. He is governed not by theory, as his avant-garde colleagues on the continent tended to be in the fifties and sixties
134 Para-cited from “A Tale of Downward Social Mobility. The Birtwistles and Huncoat Hall”. Just another WordPress.com weblog. 135 “The young Harry … (no strings)”. Para-cited from Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 4. 136 Para-cited from the entry on “celebration” in The Oxford English Dictionary. 137 Para-cited from Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 8. 138 Para-cited from Warburton, op. cit.
110 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms when he was moulding his style, but by practical experiment. This relates him to the long tradition of English empiricism.139 Now the one thing that I rejected in my life was English music (it has no cowshit in it – it’s never rough enough). I did it really from arrogance as a young man but it was a conscious thing.140 As a point of departure, English music was what I wasn’t interested in. I was interested in the thing that came from Europe.141 You can’t really talk about an English tradition. If I’ve arrived anywhere, I’ve arrived a different way from somebody like Vaughan Williams. People say my music is English. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s not me writing English music, but that English music is becoming more like me. So, I’ve never really thought of myself as an English composer.142
14. Everything about Harrison Birtwistle bespeaks a son of the soil143 Single-mindedly ploughing his own modernist furrow.144 Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay you low?145 A quiet, rather secretive person, he tends to keep himself to himself. Should you meet him, you would get the impression of someone utterly self-possessed. He seems invulnerable to the external environment, yet he has the air of a coun- tryman about him.146 The short compact frame, the round countryman’s face surrounded by a frizz of nearly white hair and beard.147 His manner is stolid and unflappable, his Lancastrian voice soft-grained, his appearance a little unkempt.148
139 Para-cited from Michael Hall, Harrison Birtwistle in Recent Years, op. cit., 99. 140 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle, ibid., 98. 141 Para-cited from “Harrison Birtwistle Quotes” at www.brainyquotes.com. 142 “You can’t really … English composer”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Hall, Har- rison Birtwistle in Recent Years, op. cit., 98. 143 Para-cited from Meirion Bowen as cited by Hall in Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 12. 144 Para-cited from Cross, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 14. 145 Para-cited from Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822), “Song to the Men of England”. 146 Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle in Recent Years, op. cit., 4. 147 Para-cited from Ivan Hewett, “Calling the Tune”, Times Online, September 25, 2004. 148 Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle in Recent Years, op. cit., 4.
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[Stolid. Phlegmatic, unemotional, lacking or seeming to lack animation, not easily excited, hard to stir, obstinate, apparently stupid.]149 [Unkempt. Uncombed, disheveled; untidy, of neglected appearance.]150 Pay him a visit at his Twickenham home, and you are likely (at least in the summer) to find him curled up asleep like a hedgehog in a corner of the garden.151 Some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm, When hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn.152 [Hedgehog. Small spiny nocturnal pig-snouted insectivorous mammal of genus Erinaceus, rolling itself up into a ball for defence; porcupine, sea-ur- chin, or other animal similarly armed with spines; (mil.) small self-contained defensive position bristling with fortifications on all sides; prickly seed-vessel of some plants, e.g. corn crowfoot; person hard to get on with [f. ME hedge (from its habitat) + hog (from its snout)].153 Interviewing Birtwistle is like trying to mate pandas. The creature is friend- ly but on the surface ponderous, though capable of sudden grace, exactness and surprise.154 He digresses easily from his music and other professional matters to talk of trees, birds and insects which absorb him just as much.155 He has a way, this soft-pawed composer with his bear-softened face and gentle Accrington accent of flintily returning questions to sender. He holds up a copy of a recent interview headlined: ‘You have to have a vision’. No you don’t. He snaps. And I certainly haven’t.156 In fact, Birtwistle seems to be getting more prickly these days, as if to ward off any suggestion of mellowing. It becomes more and more difficult to talk to other composers. There’s noth- ing to say, after a while. With his round face surrounded by a frizz of graying hair, Birtwistle looks like a countryman, and he seems happiest talking about orchids, or the difficulties of breeding turtles. But eventually the conversation
149 Para-cited from the entry on “stolid” in The Oxford English Dictionary. 150 Para-cited from the entry on “unkempt” in The Oxford English Dictionary. 151 Para-cited from Meirion Bowen, “Articles and Publications: Variation Forms” at www. meirion-bowen.com/mbartbirt. 152 Para-cited from Thomas Hardy (1840–1928), “Afterwords”. 153 Para-cited from the entry on “hedgehog” in The Oxford English Dictionary. 154 Para-cited from Paul Griffiths, New Sounds, op. cit., 191. 155 Para-cited from Meirion Bowen in Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 12. 156 “He has a way … haven’t”. Para-cited from Jeffries, op. cit.
112 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms turns back to music, and the current craze for John Taverner’s ‘religious mini- malism’. I cannot stand John Taverner’s music. It’s what I call sentimental extrem- ism.157 But he could, in fact, be described as a hedgehog in another, entirely differ- ent sense – that popularized by Sir Isiah Berlin in his famous essay on Tolstoy , which takes its starting point from a fragment of Archilochus: The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.158 In his book Wittgenstein’s Place in Twentieth Century Analytic Philosophy, Oxford philosopher Peter Hacker uses this metaphor to contrast Berlin’s Tolstoy, “a fox by nature, but a hedgehog by conviction” with the Austrian-born phi- losopher Ludwig Witgenstein, who was “by nature a hedgehog, but after 1929 transformed himself, by great intellectual and imaginative endeavour, into a par- adigmatic fox.”159 In The Hedgehog and the Fox, Sir Isiah Berlin characterizes hedgehogs as those “who relate everything to a single, central vision, one system less or more coherent or articulate, in terms of which they understand, think and feel – a sin- gle, universal, organizing principle in terms of which alone all that they are and say has significance.”160 Start with an absolutely regular and uniform pattern of the simplest, most predictable kind then superimpose upon it a pattern which is its extreme oppo- site – something capricious and unpredictable.161 [Capricious. Guided by whim, inconstant, irregular, uncalculable. F. Ital. capro, he-goat.]162 The capricious, accidental and unpredictable patterns he employs come from a number of sources.163 It’s important for me that it’s not preformed. I get very uninterested in just sticking to process – the creative juices are in obeyance! When the piece takes over, and I have to go with it, that’s when I feel good about it.164
157 “In fact … extremism”. Para-cited from Birtwistle and Hewett in Hewett, “Calling the Tune”, op. cit. 158 Para-cited from Meirion Bowen in Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 12. 159 Para-cited from Wikipedia entry on “The Hedgehog and the Fox”. 160 Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 12. 161 Ibid., 13. 162 Para-cited from the entry on “capricious” in The Oxford English Dictionary. 163 Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 13. 164 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Lorraine, “Territorial Rites 2”, op. cit., 16.
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Since Refrains and Choruses was composed off the top of his head the dis- ruptions which throw things into disorder derive from his fantasy, his own capri- ciousness.165 I wrote it completely off the top of my head. I can’t justify a single note.166 Since the central organizing principle requires that something uniform and regular be set off by something capricious, the capriciousness is the role the horn must play.167 It’s as if I compose all the elements first, and move through them, and can return to them – which introduces the element of repetition.168 The horn is therefore the protagonist and the drama, the conflict between capricious individuality and the solidarity of groups. Gradually the horn’s capriciousness becomes more assertive until, in the sixth section, it becomes almost unbearably headstrong. No protagonist has ever been so wilful or capricious as Mr. Punch.169 Birtwistle believes his own primary task as a composer of opera is to ex- plain how it is that characters need to sing, instead of merely speaking or what- ever. His ultimate reference point is the original source of the music itself: hence his habit of beginning from a single note or phrase, or placing a single line melo- dy in the foreground. Constantly he asks the question, why sing or play?170 He can theorise about his music until the end of time. But … It’s just a story you tell afterwards about what you’ve done.171 I can’t get into all that stuff about communication. That’s what so many younger composers are doing now and to me it seems retrogressive. It’s all rhet- oric and no form. For me music is all about making a real form, otherwise all you’re doing is making a substitute, adding another piece into a world that is already filled with pieces very like it. You have to have vision.172 You have to go in with your wellies—and do it.
165 Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit.,13. 166 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Jeffries, op. cit. 167 Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit.,14. 168 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Lorraine, “Territorial Rites 2”, op. cit., 5. 169 “The horn … Mr. Punch”. Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 15. 170 “Birtwistle believes . . . play?” Para-cited from Meirion Bowen, “Articles and Publica- tions: Variation Forms” at www.meirion-bowen.com/mbartbirt 171 Para-cited from Jeffries, op. cit. 172 Para-cited from Hewett, “Calling the Tune”, op. cit.
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15. The dramas he enacts are internal rather than external. They are dramas of the mind and do not require external referents. In effect, they are projections of internalized conflict which probably besets all children from a cohesive work- ing-class community who consider themselves outsiders, the conflict between the necessity of self-assertion and the equally strong pull of the group. In all his music Birtwistle requires a soloist to represent the ego and chorus, the collective unconscious.173 It’s not about the story. Francis Bacon talked about the “boredom of the story” and that’s why I use myths. They’ve been told endlessly before; you don’t have to do the boring work of creating them. But I thought you reckoned that popular culture had messed up so much with our collective psyche that we don’t know those mythic narratives any more. That’s a problem.174 A better model for understanding expression is to think of it not in terms of subjective feeling, but in terms of ordinary things and situations in which historical processes and functions have been sedimented, endowing them with a potential to speak. Social conflicts and class relations leave an imprint on the structure of works of art. Art is expressive when a subjectively mediated objective quality raises its voice to speak: sadness, strength, yearning. Art is imitation only to the extent to which it is objective expression, far removed from psychology.175 Expression is a phenomenon of interference, a function both of method and mimesis. Mimesis in turn is called forth by the complexity of the technical pro- cedure.176 It’s about making a context and then breaking it. It’s how you break it that becomes interesting.177 The context of the moment is unique and must exert an influence, a strong influence.178
173 “The dramas … unconscious”. Para-cited from Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 52–53. 174 “It is not what … problem”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Jeffries, op. cit. 175 “A better model … psychology”. Para-cited from Theodor Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, op. cit., 163. 176 Ibid., 167. 177 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Jeffries, op. cit. 178 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Michael Hall, “The Sanctity of the Context: Birtwistle’s Recent Music”, Musical Times 129/1, January 1988, 14.
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The role playing could move in a totally different plane from that of the ideas of foreground/middleground/background, a sort of independent stratum (this is more than just interesting) – important – do not precompose the idea of role playing. Let any logic in that direction come out of the composed context – it should make a sort of hidden drama on an independent level. Like a secret theatre.179 Wasn’t it Yeats who said start with anything – as soon as you have a con- text, anything. I would never formalize, never predict what the piece is going to be, because the one sacred thing is the context. As soon as I move, as soon as I make a gesture and move to another there’s a situation with ramifications. Things I would never have thought of in the first place appear. To these I have a duty. They are highly potent. From then the formalism starts showing itself. There’s certainly no pre-composition.180 In a way a piece of music is like a journey. The decisions about where to go derive from the context of where you are at any moment.181 The total object is never sounded. You never actually hear the whole thing.182 An analogy would be wandering through a town with squares, some more important than others, a town with roads on which you go round and round, in through one square and out through the other.183 There’s no logical end to it.184 Have you ever been to Lucca? If you go into a walled town, like Lucca, you find what you do is retrace your steps and approach piazzas from different an- gles. The nature of the place is concealed – like a ball of string.185 There are days when I’ve thought ‘wouldn’t it be wonderful if I didn’t have to go through all this process of all these bloody notes and paper, and end up with something at the end of the day which I know more or less what it was like’.186
179 Ibid., 15. 180 Ibid., 14. 181 “In a way … moment”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Lorraine, “Territorial Rites 2”, op. cit., 14–16. 182 “The total … thing”. Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Griffiths, New Sounds, op. cit., 191. 183 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 144. 184 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Lorraine, “Territorial Rites 2”, op. cit., 13. 185 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Jeffries, op. cit. 186 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Lorraine, “Territorial Rites 1”, op. cit., 6.
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You never get the complete picture.187 Yan Tan Tethera Methera Pim Sethera Lethera Hovera Dovera Dik Various parts get repeated. But the repeats are not like ritornellos, they’re not the same thing seen from a new perspective, they take context into ac- count.188 I’ve become acutely aware of the sanctity of the context.189 All that matters is that the composer has a responsibility to his materials.190 I’ve never tried to fight it; I’ve tried to understand it. To understand the na- ture of your material is the most important thing for creativity.191 It’s to do with what is background, what is foreground.192 This sounds horribly pretentious but I like to think that if music hadn’t ex- isted I could have invented it.193 You have to go in with your wellies – and do it. The most forceful and uncompromisingly original British composer of his generation.194 Perhaps the explanation lies in his background. Perhaps. And that dismal cry rose slowly And sank slowly through the air Full of spirit’s melancholy And eternity’s despair And they heard the words it said Pan is Dead –Great Pan is Dead – Pan, Pan is Dead
187 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Lorraine, “Territorial Rites 2”, op. cit., 14. 188 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 144. 189 Ibid., 149. 190 Ibid. 191 Para-cited from Harrison Birtwistle in Griffiths, New Sounds, op. cit., 192. 192 Para-cited from Michael Hall, Harrison Birtwistle, op. cit., 144. 193 Para-cited from Brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/h/Harrison birtwistle. 194 Para-cited from the New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians as cited by Anthony Holden op.cit.
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Works cited
Adlington, Robert: “Harrison Birtwistle’s Recent Music”. Tempo, 196, April 1996, 2–8. ——: The Music of Harrison Birtwistle. Cambridge University Press, 2001. Adorno, Theodor: Aesthetic Theory. Trans. C. Leinhardt. Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984. Browning, Barrett E.: “A Musical Instrument”. ——: “The Dead Pan”. Birtwistle, Harrison: Panic. A Dithyramb for Alto Saxophone, Drum Kit, Wind, Brass and Percussion. Boosey and Hawkes, n.d. ——: Commentary. “Making Music: Harrison Birtwistle”. Zankel Hall at Carnegie, January 31, 2005. Bowen, Meirion: Articles and Publications. “Variation Forms”. www.meirion-bowen.com/ mbartbirt (Accessed 10/03/2004) Brainyquote.com/authors/h/harrison birtwistle. (Accessed 12/15/2006) Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. Seventeenth Edition. Revised by John Ayto. Wie- denfeld and Nicolson, 2005. Chancellor, Alexander: “How Wonderful to See You”. The Guardian, July 21, 2004. Collins on-line English Dictionary. Consolidated-Webster Encyclopedic Dictionary, 1946. Cross, Jonathan: “Thoughts in First Hearing Sir Harrison Birtwistle’s ‘Panic’”. Tempo, 1995, January 1996, 34 – 35. ——: Harrison Birtwistle. Man, Mind, Music. Faber and Faber, 2000. Dahl, Kris: On-line review of Michael Segell, The Devil’s Horn. The Story of the Saxophone, from Noisy Novelty to King of Cool (Farrar, Strauss, Giroux, 2005). Publisher’s Weekly, October 2005. Dictionary.com Dry Stone Walling Association of Great Britain www.dsw.org.uk/Publications/Leaflets/ walls (Accessed 10/07/2006) Griffiths, Dai: “Genre: Grammar Schoolboy Music”. Critical Musicology Newsletter, 3, 1995. Griffiths, Paul: New Sounds, New Personalities: British Composers of the 1980s. Faber Music Ltd., 1985. Hall, Michael: Harrison Birtwistle. London: Robson Books, 1984. ——: “The Sanctity of the Context: Birtwistle’s Recent Music”. The Musical Times, 129/1, January 1988,14–16. ——: Harrison Birtwistle in Recent Years. London: Robson Books, 1998. Hansen, Liane: Interview with Michael Segell, NPR, November 6, 2005. Hardy, Thomas: “Afterwords”. Hewett, Ivan: “You Have to Have Vision”. arts.telegraph, October 3, 2003. www.telegraph. co.uk/arts/main (Accessed 10/3/2004) ——: “Calling the Tune”. Times Online, September 25, 2004. www.timesonline.co.uk/arti- cle. (Accessed 10/3/2004)
118 Finn, G.: Panic at the Proms
Holden, Anthony: Classical CD of the week: “Birtwistle, Theseus Game, Earth Dances”. En- semble Modern/Brabbins/Valade/Boulez (DG 477 0702). The Guardian, August 1, 2004. www.theguardian.com/music/2004/01/classicalmusicandopera (Accessed 2/1/18) Jeffries, Stuart: “Up the Garden Path”. Guardian Unlimited, November 28, 2003. www. guardian.co/uk/arts/fridayreview/story (Accessed 10/3/2004) Klee, Paul. Pedagogical Sketchbook. F. A. Praeger, 1968. Lebrecht, Norman: “Music that Makes a Stand: Norman Lebrecht Talks to Harrison Birtwistle”. ENO & Friends, 10, Summer 1986. Lorraine, Ross: “Territorial Rites 1”. The Musical Times, October 1997, 4–8. ——: “Territorial Rites 2”. The Musical Times, November 1997, 12–16. “A Tale of Downward Mobility. The Birtwistles of Huncoat Hall”, April 2011. Just another Wordpress.com/weblog. Le Carré, John: A Murder of Quality. Penguin Books, 1964. Maycock, Robert: “Last Night of the Proms. Birwistle Premiere” [spelling corrected]. The Independent, September 18, 1995. Milton, John: “Paradise Lost”. Oxford Companion to Music. Oxford University Press, 1974. Oxford English Dictionary. Oxford University Press, 1976. Shelley, Percy Bysshe: “Song to the Men of England”. Tennyson, Alfred Lord: “Song”. Tulsa, John: Interview with Harrison Birtwistle, BBC, Radio 3, July 1, 2001. Warburton, Dan. Interview with Harrison Birtwistle. July 8, 1995. www.paristransatlantic. com/magazine/interviews/birtwistle (Accessed 10/3/2004) Winterson, Jeanette: Oranges are Not the Only Fruit. Pandora Press, 1985.
Summary This paper explores the critical response to Harrison Birtwistle and his music in general and Panic in particular through a constellation of para-citations taken from a wide range of sources, scholarly and otherwise, which in their juxtaposition provide the historical, cultural and political context—the ‘background’ if you would—of the Birtwistle effect. The paper opens with a brief discussion of the mythical Pan and its relevance to Panic and the response to its first performance at the Last Night of the Proms in September 1995, which prompted ten thousand outraged listeners to jam the BBC switchboards with their indignant complaints. This is followed by a consideration of the history of the Proms and of the tradition of the Last Night in particular as an occasion for an exuberant celebration of British (or more precisely English) identity, involving the waving of national flags and the communal singing of popular anthems, including “Land of Hope and Glory”, “Rule, Britannia!”, and “Jerusalem”, for example. This leads into a review of the history of the saxophone, ‘controversial from the start’, and its current position in the concert repertoire, and from there to a detailed presentation of some of the routine and/or critical comments
119 New Sound 51, I /2018 of the cognoscendi about Birtwistle the man and his music, and their particular preoccu- pation with what they refer to as his ‘background’. Birtwistle was born and brought up in the Lancashire mill-town of Accrington, thirty miles north of Manchester, England (so was I as it happens, and so was Jon Anderson of the progressive rock band “Yes” whose father used to drink with my father at the local Working Mens’ Club, for what that’s worth): “It too is uncompromising. No foliage softens the stark hills which enclose it; nothing disguises the fact that its function is purely industrial”. Looking back, Birtwistle describes it as “paradise”, a kind of Arcadia that still lives with him. The voice of Birtwistle is privileged in this paper and his words are cited throughout the various discussions providing a counter-narrative, a dissonance if you would, to that of his interpreters as well as an alternative foreground to their background noise. As he says of his own composition, “It’s to do with what is background, what is foreground”. And that, of course, depends on where you stand and the focus and direction of your gaze.
120 Perković. I.: In Memory of Roksanda Pejović (1929–2018)
TRIBUTE TO PROF. DR. ROKSANDA PEJOVIĆ
Article received on April 17th 2018 Article accepted on May 16th 2018 UDC: 78.072:929 Пејовић Р.
Ivana Perković* University of Arts in Belgrade Faculty of Music Department of Musicology
NARRATIVE MONOLOGUE AND (INTERNAL) DIALOGUE: IN MEMORY OF ROKSANDA PEJOVIĆ (1929–2018)
In early January 2018, Prof. Roksanda Pejović (Serbian Cyrillic: Роксанда Пејовић, 11 December 1929 – 5 January 2018) died at the age of 88. Despite her advanced age, her passing was unexpected: following a brief illness, which she fought with much dignity, Aja left us quietly, in her sleep. Roksanda Pejović was not just a musicologist, professor of music history, and art historian. She was a genuine and broadly educated intellectual, true to herself and her ideas; right up to her last day, she remained a committed and active observer and participant, acutely aware of her own priorities, attitudes, virtues and qualities, but also shortcomings. Both as a scholar and professor, she constantly used her own example to demonstrate the importance of con- stant learning and curiosity; for her, it went without saying, unconditionally, that
* Author contact information: [email protected].
121 New Sound 51, I /2018 one’s education had to be broad and versatile. She despised banality and pomp- ousness; she was critical of others and even more so of herself. Her openness and spirit attracted attention and made her a favourite in almost every company; using her sense of humour, she solved difficult situations with ease. For sure, Roksanda Pejović could also be caustic, brusque, direct, and unyielding; many will remember her for shunning tactics and openly expressing her opinions, without caring too much about the reactions or feelings of her interlocutors. Dis- cussions with her often turned loud and heated; but they never sank into monot- ony or barrenness. Roksanda Pejović acquired her first B.A. degree from the art history study group at the Faculty of Philosophy in Belgrade in 1954; the title of her final the- sis was “Проблеми историје уметности 18. века” (Serbian Latin: “Problemi istorije umetnosti 18. veka” – Issues in 18th Century History of Art).1 Already the following year she acquired another B.A. degree, from the Department of His- tory and Folklore at the Academy of Music in Belgrade, with a thesis on Robert Tolinger. Eight years later, she received a Master’s degree from the Academy of Music in Belgrade; the title of her Master’s thesis was “Музичка критика и есејистика између два светска рата” (“Muzička kritika i esejistika između dva svetska rata” – Interwar Music Criticism and Writing), supervised by Stana Đurić Klajn (Стана Ђурић Клајн). She acquired her doctoral degree in 1984 from the Faculty of Philosophy in Ljubljana, under the supervision of Dr Drag- otin Cvetko. The title of her doctoral dissertation, which successfully combined her rich knowledge of art history with that of music history, was “Представе музичких инструмената у средњовековној Србији” (“Predstave muzičkih in- strumenata u srednjovekovnoj Srbiji” – Representations of Music Instruments in Medieval Serbia). One might describe the scholarly style of one of the most prolific Serbi- an musicologists as that of narrative monologue. It pervades her 34 published books, hundreds of articles, a plethora of encyclopaedic entries, and a large number of other writings. Her bibliographic output from the last 20 years alone comprises no fewer than 15 books; among others, it includes Musical Instru- ments in Medieval Serbia, her monograph published in English (2013),2 teeming with ‘fascinating descriptions’, in Tilman Seebass’s assessment, ‘the result of a
1 Roksanda Pejović spoke to me about her scholarly preoccupations and approach to her profession in an interview published in this journal in 2014: “Мало шта сам почела, а да нисам завршила“ / “There are few things that I started and left unfinished. An interview with Roksanda Pejović”, New Sound, International Journal of Music, No. 43/I, 2014, 7–16. 2 Roksanda Pejović, Musical Instruments in Medieval Serbia, Belgrade, Faculty of Music, University of Arts in Belgrade, 2013.
122 Perković. I.: In Memory of Roksanda Pejović (1929–2018) tireless and lifelong effort’.3 Impressive by international standards as well, Pejo- vić’s list of published works is the result of her painstaking work and persistent, even fanatical efforts to enrich Serbian music historiography from various per- spectives, to keep extending and complementing currently available insights.4 From the very beginnings of her professional scholarly engagement, Pe- jović’s work in musicology was shaped by a continual intertwining of several topics: the iconography of music, especially concerning Serbian medieval mon- uments and, more broadly, the Byzantine world, which was a ‘natural’ field of interest for someone who was educated not only as a historian of music, but also as an art historian. Then, no less important, there was the domain of mu- sic criticism and writing on music, which was a major interest from the early 1990s and especially during her final decade. For instance, from 2008 to 2018 alone, she published five books on the writings of Stana Đurić Klajn, Branko Dragutinović (Бранко Драгутиновић), and ‘writers on music from the latter half of the 20th century: from Petar Konjović to Oskar Danon’, then she stud- ied the work of Pavle Stefanović (Павле Стефановић) and Dragutin Gostuški (Драгутин Гостушки), while her final book addressed the activities of ‘Bel- grade Music Academy alumni since 1945’.5 It is precisely these areas of her research and scholarly work that are inseparably intertwined and linked with those oriented towards musical performance, a subject that Pejović treated in
3 Tilman Seebass, “Roksanda Pejović, Musical Instruments in Medieval Serbia. Belgrade: University of the Arts – Faculty of Music, 2013. 325 pp. with numerous illustrations in col- our and black and white. 1 CD. ISBN 978-86-88619-25-7”, New Sound, International Jour- nal of Music, No. 43/I, 2014, 202. 4 Pejović published her final bibliography, titled Биографија и библиографијa (Biografija i bibliografija – Biography and Bibliography), in 2013. 5 Коментари текстова Стане Ђурић-Клајн. Поводом стогодишњице рођења (Komen- tari tekstova Stane Đurić Klajn. Povodom stogodišnjice rođenja – Commentaries on Texts by Stana Đurić Klajn: On the Centenary of Her Birth), Belgrade, Faculty of Music, 2008; Преглед музичких догађања (1944–1971). Бранко Драгутиновић (Pregled muzičkih događanja (1944–1971). Branko Dragutinović – An Overview of Musical Life 1944–1971: Branko Dragutinović), Belgrade, Faculty of Music, 2009; Есејисти и критичари. Од Петра Коњовића до Оскара Данона (Esejisti i kritičari. Od Petra Konjovića do Oska- ra Danona – Essayists and Critics: From Petar Konjović to Oskar Danon), Belgrade, Fac- ulty of Music, 2010; Комплексно посматрање музике: Павле Стефановић. Драгутин Гостушки (Kompleksno posmatranje muzike: Pavle Stefanović, Dragutin Gostuški – A Complex View of Music: Pavle Stefanović, Dragutin Gostuški), Belgrade, Faculty of Mu- sic, 2012; Критике, есеји и књиге. Први београдски музичари – дипломци после 1945. године (Kritike, eseji i knjige. Prvi beogradski muzičari: diplomci posle 1945. godine – Re- views, Essays, and Books: Belgrade’s First Musicians – Post-1945 Music Graduates), Bel- grade, Faculty of Music, 2016.
123 New Sound 51, I /2018 an extremely large number of writings, including Српско музичко извођаштво романтичарског доба (Srpsko muzičko izvođaštvo romantičarskog doba – Ser- bian Music Performance in the Age of Romanticism), Опера и балет Народног позоришта у Београду (Opera i balet Narodnog pozorišta u Beogradu – The Opera and Ballet of the National Theatre in Belgrade), and Концертни живот у Београду (1919–1941) (Koncertni život u Beogradu (1919–1941) – Belgrade’s Concert Life 1919–1941).6 Delimited by – but not restricted to – these bounds, the richly varied musicological profile of Roksanda Pejović is characterised by enthusiasm, curiosity, persistence, and directness. Reading ‘between the lines’, we learn a lot about Roksanda Pejović as a mu- sic historian and musicologist: she was a scholar with a penchant for engaging in narrative monologue set within broad historical panoramas. She commanded a rich knowledge in various fields and generously offered her readers a wealth of meticulously gathered information. She was happy to express her own conclu- sions, engage in polemics and discussions, but did not shy away from revising her opinions either. She was never afraid, as Katarina Tomašević aptly noted, to ‘complement or reassess certain topics and fields from a new perspective’.7 Us- ing her books’ rich appendices, such as various kinds of overviews, tables, and chronological lines, her readers have easy access to the information she offers so generously, while her straightforward writing, often condensed to the utmost, though motivated by the desire to be accessible, is sometimes enigmatic and intelligible only to those familiar with the style of Roksanda Pejović’s narrative monologue. Like many of her colleagues, university professors across the world, Pejov- ić prioritised her scholarly work, attaching only a secondary role to her teaching, as she was often happy to assert. And yet, her work in teaching proved to be a rather significant stimulus in her treatment of, first, professional and then also research and scholarly topics, so one could speak of an encounter, interaction, and process that benefited both sides of Pejović’s professional work, rather than a polarisation between them. Paradoxically, even though she did not regard ped-
6 Српско музичко извођаштво романтичарског доба, Belgrade, University of Arts, 1991; Опера и балет Народног позоришта у Београду, Belgrade, Faculty of Music, 1996; Концертни живот у Београду (1919–1941), Belgrade, Faculty of Music, 2004. 7 Катарина Томашевић (Katarina Tomašević), “Музиколошки портрет Роксанде Пејовић“ (“Muzikološki portret Roksande Pejović” – A Musicological Portrait of Roksan- da Pejović), in: Ивана Перковић-Радак (Ivana Perković Radak), Драгана Стојановић- Новичић (Dragana Stojanović Novičić), Данка Лајић (Danka Lajić; eds.), Историја и мистерија музике. У част Роксанде Пејовић (Istorija i misterija muzike. U čast Roksande Pejović – The History and Mystery of Music: In Honour of Roksanda Pejović), Belgrade, Faculty of Music, 2006, 41.
124 Perković. I.: In Memory of Roksanda Pejović (1929–2018) agogy as her central professional challenge, she devoted almost her entire career to that calling. With the exception of a single year at Jugokoncert (1956), Pejo- vić was active as a professor for almost four decades, first at the Stanković High School of Music (1957–1975) and then at the Faculty of Music of the University of Arts in Belgrade (as an assistant, associate, and full professor, 1975–1995). Upon her retirement, she did not abandon teaching, remaining active in under- graduate and graduate teaching for a number of years. She supervised close to 30 B.A., M.A., and Ph.D. final dissertations. Of all those who graduated from her class, ten of her former students found jobs at faculties and academies in Belgrade, Novi Sad, and Kragujevac, various scholarly organisations – the Mu- sicology Institute of the Serbian Academy of Science and Arts and various in- stitutions abroad, and many of them in media, musical life, and renowned high schools of music. In other words, almost all of them have remained in musi- cology, thanks to the spark ignited in them by Prof. Pejović. Following her re- tirement, she never declined to directly impart her experiences to students and young musicologists, to share her knowledge with them, to direct them to the literature, and generously offer her insights into primary sources, whenever she had them. As a university professor, Pejović focused more on teaching her students how to think and solve certain problems rather than what to learn.8 She did not strive to ‘cover’ every unit, but sought to encourage independence and indi- vidual research. This approach sometimes caused unease among students used to the principle of ‘learning by listening’ and those focused on reproduction. I know many who were confounded by the fact that after Pejović’s lectures their notebooks remained empty, without notes they could use to prepare for the final exam. Always curious and full of enthusiasm, explosive and spontaneous, she was only too happy to break the myth of the ‘know-it-all professor’. She was happy to admit if she did not know something and on such occasions she en- joyed learning along with her students. She liked to use her introductory lectures to offer the general framework of a given topic and then she would seek to mo- tivate students to devise their own research strategies, critically to re-examine existing insights, and search for new ideas. With much wit and openness, in her lectures in music history, she would state her opinion, contradict, provoke, and stimulate her students to think differently and learn from each other. She was
8 For more on Roksanda Pejović’s teaching methods, see Ивана Перковић-Радак (Ivana Perković Radak), “Педагошке искре Роксанде Пејовић“ (“Pedagoške igre Roksande Pejo- vić” – The Pedagogical Games of Roksanda Pejović), in: Ивана Перковић-Радак, Драгана Стојановић-Новичић, Данка Лајић (ур.), Историја и мистерија музике. У част Роксанде Пејовић, Belgrade, Faculty of Music, 2006, 57–65.
125 New Sound 51, I /2018 especially fond of in-class discussions and on those occasions we would often witness her internal dialogues, a ‘type’ of teaching characteristic of Prof. Pejo- vić. It was in such instances that she ‘opened up’: sharing with us her scholarly, intellectual, moral, and emotional preoccupations and states. Following a system of complex associations, Pejović’s internal dialogue could ‘lead’ so far away from the lecture topic at hand that afterwards it was almost impossible to return to the ‘assignment’. However confusing, such moments were never deprived of more profound contents or wit and were invariably special and unique. This is my first text that my professor will not read or comment on. Never- theless, somehow I can still feel the flame of her passion, energy, faith, sincerity, openness, and ability to share. And though I know that she would find something to criticise in this text, too, with which I would completely concur, I believe that somewhere, deep down, her eyes would smile at me, the way only she could do.
126 Tomašević, T.: A Farewell to Aja: Fragments of Memories
Article received on May 18th 2018 Article accepted on May 19th 2018 UDC: 78.072:929 Пејовић Р.
Katarina Tomašević* Institute of Musicology Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts
A FAREWELL TO AJA: FRAGMENTS OF MEMORIES
The news of the final departure of the highly esteemed and much loved profes- sor Roksanda Pejović, our Aja, cast a sorrowful tone at the beginning of January this year. It was difficult to accept that the extensive, thematically and substan- tially rich musicological oeuvre of Roksanda Pejović was finally and irrevers- ibly complete, that Serbian music historiography had lost one of its most ardent and committed scholars and, at the same time, a pedagogue with a unique meth- od, enthusiasm, and charm. Aja’s quiet departure was especially painful for her many students, especially those who even after graduating maintained close pro- fessional contacts with the professor with whom they made their first forays into musicology, finding in her support and backing as well as an always willing and inspired interlocutor for all major issues in assessing and interpreting Serbian music as well as more recent methodological currents in contemporary musicol- ogy. Direct and spontaneous, witty and with a fiery temperament, Prof. Pejović easily impressed and charmed her younger interlocutors, simultaneously encour- aging the individuality, freedom, and boldness of their critical deliberations of the past and present alike. I was part of that privileged, though not exactly small, group of Aja’s for- mer students whose subsequent work was closely monitored by the Professor. Quite familiar with most of her countless publications due to the nature of my own research, over time I advanced to the rank of consultant in the making of some of her more recent publications, which meant that I later got to review some of them. When the Musicology Department of the Faculty of Music organ- ised an international conference in 2005 to celebrate Prof. Pejović’s 75th birth- day, the organisers – my colleagues from the Department – entrusted me with the great responsibility and honour to speak of Aja’s ‘musicological portrait’.
* Author contact information: [email protected].
127 New Sound 51, I /2018
It meant that I had to produce a complete overview of the sheer thematic multi- plicity of her oeuvre published thus far, as well as to highlight the main traits of her methodological approach and narrative itself. In addition to the collection of essays published in 2006 as Istorija i misterija muzike (Историја и мистерија музике, The History and Mystery of Music),1 a considerably extended and re- vised version of my talk was also published in a separate volume: Roksanda Pejović, Biografija i bibliografija (Биографија и библиографија, Biography and Bibliography).2 Grateful for the invitation of the editorial board of the New Sound to offer a respectful review of Roksanda Pejović’s immeasurable contri- bution to the study of music, I will quote here the lines with which I concluded that piece more than a decade ago: A tireless researcher and enthusiast, a consistent representative of the his- torical approach to the study of the musical past, Serbian music historiogra- phy is indebted to Roksanda Pejović primarily for her synthetic overviews of Serbian medieval art and the developmental paths of Serbian music life in the 19th and 20th centuries in the context of other arts. Her monographic studies were richly provided with appendices, chronological overviews and tables, name indices and bibliographies, which made her books a rarity in Serbian musicology. Convinced about the significance of publishing one’s research results as quickly as possible, to break ground for younger gen- erations of musicologists, she never absolutised her views. Aware that her conclusions were necessarily predicated on the current stage of research, she was never shy to review, complement, or reassess certain topics and areas from a different point of view. Her works about the history of musical performance and writing on music affirm her not only as an exquisite con- noisseur of the circumstances that conditioned the musical life and develop- ment of Serbian Romanticist and Modernist music, but also as a committed historian who, in comparison to the preceding generation of musicologists, extended the limits of our knowledge of Serbian musical culture by several degrees.3 Already in her lifetime, Roksanda Pejović occupied a high and prominent place among the doyens and doyennes of Serbian musicology with her painstak- ing work and major contributions. I clearly remember how deeply moved she
1 Katarina Tomašević, “Muzikološki portret Roksande Pejović” (A Musicological Portrait of Roksanda Pejović), in: Ivana Perković Radak, Dragana Stojanović Novičić, and Danka Lajić (eds.), Istorija i misterija muzike: u čast Roksande Pejović (The History and Mystery of Mu- sic: In Honour of Roksanda Pejović), Belgrade, Faculty of Music, 2006, 33–42. 2 Roksanda Pejović, Biografija i bibliografija, Belgrade, Faculty of Music, 2007, 4–14. 3 Ibid., 14.
128 Tomašević, T.: A Farewell to Aja: Fragments of Memories was by the attention lavished on her at the 2005 Conference. The long list of participants included few names that were not also her former students. The next invitation to speak about our dear professor came, unfortunately, shortly after her funeral, when my colleague Ivana Perković Radak asked me to take part in her memorial, on 10 January. Out of a deep respect for Aja, I could not decline, but I could feel that my oration would not rise above the form of fragmentary memories of so many warm, friendly, and meaningful years togeth- er. Despite its strong personal note, I will use the text of that talk to complete this, my last farewell to my dear professor.
* * * Dear colleagues – all of you, who shared with our professor Roksanda Pejović all those years and times as her ‘children’, students, colleagues, and friends, and then also as equal participants in the growth and maturing of the modern and globally current contours of Serbian music studies, under the roof of this Faculty as part of the University of Arts, as well as under the auspices of many other institutions, to whose work Professor Roksanda gave an immeasurable contri- bution primarily as a pedagogue, to all of you I owe a big apology in advance, because this talk of mine, dedicated to Aja, will not be – because it could not be! – a duly reserved ‘in memoriam’ with a systematic and well-argued presentation of the Professor’s scholarly contributions to the study of the Serbian musical past, perhaps also offering an assessment of her work in the context of Serbian music historiography. […] This moment, which somehow arrived so suddenly, in stark contrast with the Christmas and New Year’s holidays […], caught me utterly unprepared and emotionally fragile to say goodbye here to our Aja with words that might entail an academic tone, an emotionally reserved tone, focused on saying goodbye to a professor who made such a deep impact on the professional lives of many of us here, whom, with varying degrees of success (compared to her often maximalist expectations!), we sought to follow. Therefore […] I ask for your forgiveness in advance, because [this talk] will comprise only fragments of my memories of the 40 years that have passed since I first met her. The beginning itself was, like for many of her students, almost shocking and quite dramatic. Those were the years – the late 1970s – when, as Aja liked to say, with resignation, ‘we had nothing with which to begin a course in general music history’, so she would throw us all, barely out of secondary school, right into the battle of translating chapters from the latest edition of the Oxford History of Mu-
129 New Sound 51, I /2018 sic. In her lectures, which were a species of their own, she tried, with much ener- gy and ardour, to transmit all her knowledge to us in one breath, to highlight for us the links, correspondences, and differences among things that to us seemed totally incommensurable: ancient Greek, Arabic, and Renaissance music theo- ry, Palestrina and Bach, ancient theatre and the first operas. Those were unique experiences. Still, we had a lot to learn and master before we could accept the necessity of Aja’s favourite maxims and methodological suggestions and ques- tions: ‘No analysing without an idea first!’; ‘What’s the parallel to that?’. However, her work in the classroom formed only a fragment of her constant commitment to pedagogy. Sometimes, she conducted one-on-one tutorials on a bench in the park outside the Academy, sometimes at the department store next door, the ‘old’ Beograđanka, whilst doing some essential shopping. Some of us – although no one was privileged in that regard! – received ‘lessons’ in musicol- ogy, the profession, as well as life in general in the broadest, most flexible sense of that word in her car, getting a lift, usually to her house, where our lectures would continue after class. And it is documented, at least in the memory of my generation, that she was an excellent driver, very determined and quick, and in- variably focused – therefore, in perfect harmony with her temperament: with her eyes always on her goal, she never hesitated in reaching it, obeying the rules, but also leaving behind anyone who hesitated, that is, all those who ‘didn’t know exactly what they want’. The Pejović family home – a small, modest flat in Belgrade’s Braća Jerko vić neighbourhood – was a sort of ‘outpost’ of the Musicology Department. At first, we went there with trepidation and uncertainty, but over time, thanks to the warmth with which Roksanda’s husband Pejka – Milica’s father – always greeted us, as did his daughter Milica herself, who grew up with many of Aja’s students younger than me, we started feeling welcome, ‘like home’, even when Roksanda, always direct, sharp, and crystal-clear in her assessments, sent us away with words such as ‘Go on, Sweetie [or Princess], get it right! You can do better than that!’ Hardly less intense was her ‘summer camp’ in Sutomore, where many seminar papers were written or polished for the September or, ulti- mately, October exam period. There is nothing peculiar about the fact that most of us really grew close with our dear Professor only upon leaving her class in general music history: entering the world of the Serbian musical past was the time when we practically made our first forays into the field she dominated unchallenged for decades. Our classes thus went on into infinity, to this day, because every step in interpreting the historical currents of Serbian music is necessarily preceded by consulting the foundations that Roksanda Pejović laid down in her writings.
130 Tomašević, T.: A Farewell to Aja: Fragments of Memories
I will repeat here something I said to her more than once, whenever she called to give me her latest manuscript to read so we could ‘chat’ afterwards, as she used to say: ‘But Aja, what you’ve written (and she wrote 35 published books, hundreds of articles, and lexicographic units for leading international encyclopaedias!), well, no institute or department in Serbia has managed that much!’ Hearing these words, her face would slowly flood with that peculiar smile of hers, reserved but almost a bit mischievous, while her gaze, some- how indeterminately looking sideways, would reflect a feeling of satisfaction and pride. She knew, our Aja, just how big the leaps she made in extending the knowledge of Serbian music history were, but at the same time she knew, and expected, that her conclusions and writings would not be the final word, but only a half or one third of the way, perhaps even just the beginning of a road that should always be explored anew. It was precisely Professor Roksanda who first revealed to me, a very, very long time ago […] that the international scholarly scene attached much more value to articles published in leading journals than to monographs. But it was as though that did not concern her at all: ‘I don’t care what they value abroad. I’ll write what I know and what we need’. It was like a personal patriotic project of Aja’s, just giving with no reservations or expectations of any kind of reward. Long enough have I walked this earth and learnt many things, including the bottomless void and silence when your parents finally leave, the closest living beings one has… Also, I have been here long enough to remember the words of our noble professor Vlastimir Peričić, of which Professor Mirjana Veselinović Hofman reminded us on the occasion of his final departure from this plane of existence (paraphrasing): ‘In each one of us, there lies a little graveyard, the her- itage of ancestors who left a mark’. And yet, and despite all, it is as if the world of ratio were always in a quiet competition with the world of the irrational, of the utopian projection, and it suddenly happens – to which I testify here today – that we develop an illusion, that we cultivate the delusion that someone import- ant, someone like Roksanda, will always be there, as a teacher, model, warning, a unique figure in our lives, with whom we will always, whenever we feel like it, rekindle our discussions, which would, just like we are used to, start vibrating again like beacons/signposts on the road toward new self-realisations. For now, it is still hard to accept that Aja won’t be there at the next gather- ing to regale us in her unique, charming way. We miss her already. May she rest in peace and accept our warm and endless gratitude.
131 New Sound 51, I /2018
132 Radovanović, B.: What does the Humming Avatar Remember?
NEW WORKS
Article received on March 21st 2018 Article accepted on May 16th 2018 UDC: 789.983:78.087.612 78.071.1 Гњатовић А.
Bojana Radovanović* University of Arts in Belgrade Faculty of Music Ph.D. studies of musicology
WHAT DOES THE HUMMING AVATAR REMEMBER? COMPOSER’S VOICE AND MEMORY IN ANA GNJATOVIĆ’S PHONATIONS1
Abstract: Written as a two-fold dissertation on Ph.D. studies of composition at the Fac- ulty of Music in Belgrade, which consists of the piece and the autopoetic text, Ana Gnja- tović’s Phonations for voice and electronics (2016), raises, among others, questions of performance of music for voice and electronics, as well as issues of the composer’s/per- former’s voice, and the topic of (musical) memory. Focusing on these problem points, this paper deals with Ana Gnjatović’s ‘vocal identity’, represented and performed in the lay- ering sounds of voice and electronics, with Edward T. Cone’s notion of ‘composer’s voice’ in mind. Key words: Phonations, Ana Gnjatović, composer’s voice, electrovocal music, perfor- mance
* Author contact information: [email protected]. 1 This paper originated from one written under the mentorship of Prof. Dr. Vesna Mikić, as the final paper for the Electroacoustic Music Course (2016/2017) on Ph.D. studies of musi- cology at the Faculty of Music in Belgrade.
133 New Sound 51, I /2018
In sitting and composing music that should be experienced like a sound diary, like something secretive, I envision myself, as the one who performs the same music publicly. The possibility of performance influences the decisions in every phase of composing. I adapt not only what I speak, but also the way I say it. If the performer is not a character, (maybe) it could be said that he is an avatar.2 Phonations for voice and electronics (2016) by Ana Gnjatović3 was written as the final, doctoral artistic project of the author’s Ph.D. studies in composition at the Faculty of Music in Belgrade, under the mentorship of Srđan Hofman, professor emeritus at the same faculty. The duration of the piece is 28 minutes, and it is described in Gnjatović’s autopoetic text as a list4 of 16 compositions for female voice and electronics, composed out of diverse sound materials. The idea behind this piece is performing memories built from composing, vocal, and literary practices and events, which refer to the music the author used to play/ sing, but are not the sole imitation of some performance from the past – and that is carefully pointed out.5 This, very personal, list of significant materials consists of the pieces composed by Gnjatović for this occasion or the ones composed earlier (Bal- ance-lost, Fashion Victim II, Fashion Victim III, Phillody. Quiescense), pieces which are of great importance for the composer (Josquin des Prez’s Mille Re- gretz, Schumann’s Kinderszennen, Satie’s La Diva de l’Empire, Berio’s Sequen-
2 “Седећи и компонујући музику која треба да се доживи на нивоу звучног дневника, нечега тајног, претпостављам себе која исту музику изводим јавно. Могућност извођења утиче на одлуке у свакој фази компоновања. Прилагођавам не само оно што говорим, него и начин на који то саопштавам. Ако извођач није лик, могло би се (можда) рећи да је аватар”. Aна Гњатовић, Phonation, за глас и електронику: теоријска студија, manuscript, Belgrade, 2016, 63. Translations of Gnjatović’s study given in this text are done by Bojana Radovanović. 3 Ana Gnjatović (1984) is a composer of acoustic and electro-acoustic music, collecting and combining found items, works, concepts, and ideas that lend themselves to generalisation, translation, interpretation, and sonorisation. Ana Gnjatović has attended various composition master classes and workshops in composition and improvisation, working with composers Chaya Czernowin, Julia Wolfe, Louis Andriessen, Luca Francesconi, Georg Friedrich Haas, Ivan Fedele, Trevor Wishart, and Mark André, among others. A more detailed biography on composer’s website: https://www.anagnjatovic.com/bioresume.html 4 “Термин списак користим јер одговара и композицији и начину на који о њој говорим. Подложан је вишеструким тумачењима, и, како се ретко користи у музици – мањe је ограничавајући.” Aна Гњатовић, op. cit., 7. 5 Ibid., 51.
134 Radovanović, B.: What does the Humming Avatar Remember? za III, Monteverdi’s Lamento della Nimfa, Kurt Weill’s Speak Low), archival recordings of important (for the composer, as well as the history of literature) poetry and prose pieces (Kurt Schwitters and Marcell Duchamp’s poems, James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake and Chamber Music, Gertrude Stein’s Idem the Same: A Valentine to Sherwood Anderson, Tristan Tzara’s L’amiral cherche une mai- son à louer), manifestos (Marinetti’s Manifesto del Futursmo), conceptual and experimental works (Kenneth Goldsmith’s 73 Songs, Gertrude Stein’s Punctua- tion from Gertrude Stein on Punctuation, No. 109 2. 7. 93–12. 15 .93 and Diana Deutsch’s Speech to Song Illusion, Phantom Words). The list goes on... Probably the most important and the most accentuated, multi-layered refer- ences point towards the philosophy of music, composing, and performance set up by John Cage. The inspiration is obvious (and indicated in the text) starting from the notion of a list as a formal concept of Phonations, emulating, among others, Cage’s Song Books (Solos for Voice 3–92) (1970). The form is built with a Cageian recipe in mind: the parts/movements are named Mix 1, Mix 2, and Mix 3; the authors, artists, concepts, and sources used in this piece are often similar to the ones Cage was inspired by in his own artistic processes. Finally, all mate- rials, including dada and experimental poetry, prose, manifestos, and listings of various kinds, are understood and treated as music: “All that is read (like prose), recited (like poetry), declaimed and proclaimed (like manifestos), listed (like colours), is no less vocal, and, in my opinion – no less music”.6 The materials contained on the tape underwent the different processes of technological manip- ulation of dynamics, duration, reverberation, cut up and layering techniques. The necessary requisites for a performance of Phonations, as listed by the composer, are: one table, one chair, one computer that supports Logic Pro X (possibly also Cubase Pro 8 or Studio One 3), a mini MIDI keyboard, a USB audio interface, one “sensitive” vocal microphone, and one, “also sensitive” vo- cal performer. The performer has the task of sitting on the stage at the computer, controlling the sequence, and “humming” the voice part. The analysis of Phonations can be done on the basis of the recording made by the composer herself, and, with the aforementioned autopoetic text, the ex- plication, which accompanies the piece. This text, intriguing and poetic, seem- ingly wandering and secretive like the music itself, but still highly informative, complex, and conceptually in line with the piece, is to be acknowledged as a key to comprehending the list that is before us. Admittedly, the autopoetic text is my guide, but I am cautious with its ‘objectivity’ and ‘truthfulness’ – this text
6 “Све оно што је читано (попут прозе), рецитовано (попут поезије), декламовано и прокламовано (попут манифеста), набрајано (попут боја) није ништа мање вокално, и по мом схватању – ништа мање музика.” Ibid., 6.
135 New Sound 51, I /2018 is rather a con-text, which can be, but does not have to be, related to the piece or performance in many ways.7 Nevertheless, given the nature of electronic music and its existence only on tape, Gnjatović’s text gives the necessary guidelines for understanding “the cluster of links” that is the author, which, with her own work, refers to many other texts, cultural objects, and practices.8
Performing: Electrovocal Music and Memory Phonations can be viewed as a fine example of what Hannah Bosma calledelec - trovocal music. Namely, it is the type of electro-acoustic music that is based on recorded, manipulated, synthesised, and live human voices.9 The piece in ques- tion indeed meets the criteria – Gnjatović works with pre-recorded sounds of her own voice, and various recorded materials that accentuate numerous voices that come across as crucial in (re)constructing the world of musical memory. Bearing in mind the history of live electronic practices in 20th century Eu- rope, as well as the USA, as well as the well-known debate on women com- posers in the field of electroacoustic music transgressing the traditional roles of male composers v. female performers (male view v. female body, technology v. nature), one should briefly consider the moment and the context in the Serbian history of music in which Phonations has emerged. Whether with the intentions of problematising the position of the female composer or not,10 the rising num- ber of female composers in the sphere of electroacoustic music in Serbia from the start of the new millennium is evident. It is worth noticing that, following the generation of composers led by Vladan Radovanović, Srđan Hofman, Zoran Erić etc., electroacoustic music in Serbia today is mostly composed by female composers of the younger generation.11 Live electronic practices are also popu- lar, of which Phonations are the paradigmatic example. By performing her own composition in this field of music, Gnjatović unites the poles of the previously
7 Hannah Bosma, The electronic cry: Voice and gender in electroacoustic music, Amsterdam, UvA-DARE (Digital Academic Repository), 168. 8 Ibid. 9 This concept is closely tied with the idea of artificial vocality by Bruno Bossis, which is de- rived from a perceptual analogy with the voice, as well as the idea that there is “no strict di- vision between recorded, manipulated, transformed, synthesised and simulated voice sounds, both from a perceptual and a technical point of view”. Ibid., 7. 10 For more on this subject, find: Adriana Sabo, Međunarodna tribina kompozitorki? Mogući pogled na položaj kompozitorki u okviru domaće muzičke scene, master thesis, manuscript, 2012. 11 Including Svetlana Savić, Tatjana Milošević, Svetlana Maraš, Jasna Veličković, Ana Gnja- tović and others.
136 Radovanović, B.: What does the Humming Avatar Remember? mentioned debate. The question that will raised further on in the text is how she sees herself while performing/composing on stage? If we go along with one of the most influential contemporary theory thoughts on performance set by Jon McKenzie12 – that in the present moment the demand for performance has become a fairly usual social phenomenon – we may as well assume that it is possible (preferable, even) to perform memories. “Today”, McKenzie writes, “as we navigate the crack of millennia, work, play, sex, and even resistance – it’s all performance to us”.13 The act of performing is, of course, crucial for music and other performing arts (dance, theater, opera, ballet, film...). McKenzie’s idea of performance as a societal norm is based on Richard Schechner’s performance studies, which are, even today, very influen- tial thanks to his thought that the notion of performance exceeds the art itself, and can also be related to different practices in art, culture, and society. Hence, a memory can be performed, but, in what way? What is quoted and paraphrased in Phonations is not very clear to me. For some thing I claim to have quoted it only because it resembled something afterwards. Some thing is not on the list, because the series of distant associ- ations and lateral flows of consciousness would have demanded Freudian explanations, and they did not seem useful. Certain things I can’t remember, but they must be stored in some corner of my consciousness...14 The electronic part of the piece reveals an abundance of voices – voices of Ana Gnjatović, voices of Joan La Barbara, Tommaso Marinetti, Gertrude Stein, Ogdon Nash, and every one of them carries a certain recognisable (even to the listener) sound artefact. While listening to the recording, Gnjatović’s pre-record- ed voices are, practically, indiscernible from the ones actually produced by the performer. Sometimes vaguely and sometimes very clearly, all these voices re- veal what the points of reference of the author’s memory are, how they are inter- twined and often indiscernible from each other. In short, they evoke the notion of everyday noise in our minds.
12 For more on the subject, Jon McKenzie, Perform or Else: From Discipline to Perfor- mance, London, Routledge, 2001. 13 Ibid., 3. 14 “Шта је све у Фонацијама цитирано и парафразирано, није ми баш сасвим докучиво. Нешто тврдим да сам цитирала само зато што ми је накнадно заличило. Нешто није на списку, јер би низ удаљених асоцијација и бочних токова свести захтевали фројдијанска објашњења, а ни она се не би чинила корисним. Појединих ствари не могу да се сетим, а сигурно су похрањене у неком кутку моје свести...” Ана Гњатовић, op. cit., 22.
137 New Sound 51, I /2018
The modes of treatment of the material have already been mentioned, and, as such, can also be associated with some, more or less, specified recollections of the author. Namely, techniques such as cut-up or layering directly allude to avant-garde dada practices of simultaneous poetry, and aleatoric techniques of cutting up a literary text and its reorganisation into a new one. Simultaneity and layering are noticeable from the first number inMix 1, LalaBarbara 1 (see Table 1), when multiple voices of Joan La Barbara encounter the voice of Gnjatović reciting the poem a by Vladimir Đurišić. This procedure leads, as was intended by Tristan Tzara in the first simultaneous poem, to the concurrent appearance of different languages (Serbian and English, and, later on in the piece, English in retrograde motion, Italian), different voices, and different artworks. Manipula- tions with the materials on tape also include dynamical, durational, and “spacial” modulations. As a “list of vocal techniques”, a list of possible non-traditional relations between the music and the text, a list of techniques of “composing for voice (and from voice)”, Phonations employs various extended vocal techniques combined with singing: humming, crooning, mumbling, reciting, whispering, percussive sounds, chanting.15 However, extreme vocal expression (screams or growls) is not used in any of the sound layers, which is the fact that coincides with the idea that ‘the performance of Phonations is designed as a private, intentional and ac- centuated non-communicative act’.16
Performing: The Composer’s Voice Phonations is the attempt of defining my vocal identity.17 In his book, The Composer’s Voice (1974), Edward T. Cone considers the possi- ble relations of the ‘composer’s voices’ in vocal and vocal-instrumental music, making certain references to electro-acoustic music that can, to an extent, be applied to unraveling Ana Gnjatović’s voices in Phonations. According to Cone, this “composer’s voice” is not the author’s real/literal voice, but rather the voice that is implied and evoked through the music itself. The composer is thus repre- sented as a “complete musical persona” of the given piece, which is unique even in relation to his other works.18 In contrast to that, in vocal music, the “vocal
15 Sound example is available online at the official New Sound YouTube channel. Please find the playlist here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgbJ7s-f8i4&feature=youtu.be 16 “Извођење Фонација осмислила сам као приватан, намерно и наглашено некомуни кативан чин”. Ibid., 61. 17 “Фонације су покушај дефинисања мог вокалног идентитета”. Ibid., 25. 18 Cf. Edward T. Cone, The Composer’s Voice, Berkley, University of California Press, 1974, 18.
138 Radovanović, B.: What does the Humming Avatar Remember? persona”, i.e. the performer’s voice joins the composer’s as an embodied repre- sentative of the piece’s character or personality. This may create a field of fric- tion and tension between the voice of the “complete musical persona” and the voice of the performer that, according to Cone, has “natural supremacy” and demands to be heard.19 The third, “instrumental virtual persona”, can be under- stood as the most direct component of the musical persona – the virtual narrator manifested in the instrumental accompaniment.20 Apparently, given that the composer and the performer are actually the same persona, the differentiation of the composer’s and the performer’s voic- es in Phonations would not produce much of a result, however, Gnjatović (the ‘complete musical persona’), writes: The dynamics of the relations between the natural and the artificial, the orig- inal and the arrangement, is reversed, because, in actuality, the originals are stored in memories, on tape, and what the singer brings are reactions, com- ments.21 As a composer, she posits (or recapitulates afterwards) the notion of self on stage (composer- and performer-wise) as an avatar. Parallels can be drawn between this situation, where the “musical avatar” imitates the “closed and pri- vate” act of composing and performing on stage and, the situation of one having an avatar, a representative, in a virtual world of computer games. That way, Ana Gnjatović composes/designs and theoretically explains the unique kind of her virtual reality, performed in front of an audience. The specificity of this ‘division of labour’ can, in this case, be explained by the three-layered set of the composer-performer persona. In relation to Cone’s setting, I propose the following interpretation. The composer’s voice, that is, the musical persona of this composition is contained in its ontological totality – in the performance, in the recorded form on tape, and in the autopoetic text that accompanies and clarifies it. The remaining two layers create a virtual re- ality of memory, created by the composer/performer, which is representing/per- forming her own avatar on the scene. Pre-recorded and manipulated sounds on tape convey the original memories through the instrumental persona, the virtual narrative, and the singer/performer is the vocal persona – the one manipulating the performance itself, either by working with the materials on tape directly or
19 Cf. Hannah Bosma, op. cit., 91. 20 Edward T. Cone, op. cit., 12, 35; Cf. ibid. 21 “Динамика односа природног и артифицијелног, оригинала и обраде, обрнута је, јер се оригинали, заправо, налазе у сећањима, на траци, а оно штo доноси певачица су реакције, коментари”. Ана Гњатовић, op. cit., 66.
139 New Sound 51, I /2018 through commenting on the sound events/memories from the tape with her own voice. The assumed tension and contention between the virtual narrative and vocal persona, therefore, come as no shock. Indeed, it is even expected by the composer herself: “The feedback between me that writes and me that sings is not an indispensable condition for the consistent interpretation of the piece. (…) Additionally, my ability to quite faithfully present my own instructions need not be a foregone conclusion.”22 Hence, I differentiate (1) the musical persona, represented by the total com- poser’s voice, (2) the instrumental virtual persona, i.e. the composer’s voice recorded on tape whose role is to remember, and (3) the vocal persona, the avatar that represents the author, imitates the process of composing and per- forms the comments on the recollections on tape. If, for a moment, we put the musical persona aside, we can again focus our attention on the relation between the virtual narrative and the avatar, the tape and the voice. In accordance with the “antitheatrical” idea of shyness, reticence, and the intimate atmosphere required in performing/composing on stage, the vo- cal part does not predict any type of action that could lead to over-amplifying any specifically extreme state of emotions. The performer does not scream, nei- ther does she cry or “bray”… she croons and hums. When needed, the extreme psychological charges are entrusted to the electronic part. That way, those states are depicted truthfully and ‘originally’ in their mildness or extremity, in their intertextuality and every possible connection with all the existing and vaporising memories. While the avatar reacts to the sounds that surround her, her voice is also processed and treated with technological aids. The performer’s voice is re- verberated in order to achieve “spatialisation” and a more compact density with the electronic part.23 This need for coordinating the voice performed live with the electronic lay- ers indicates a tendency of improvement of (shy, not good enough, “inappropri- ate”?) the human body by means of technology. The voice of avatar in perfor- mance strives for acceptance of the real world, while the real world is carefully stored in technologically mediated electronic part.24 What ties the pre-recorded voice and other materials used in the electronic part, such as manifestos, poems, music performed by other voices together, are Ana Gnjatović’s memories im-
22 “Повратна спрега између мене која пише и мене која пева није неопходан услов за доследну интерпретацију дела. (...) Додатно, не мора се претпоставити ни моја способност сасвим верног представљања сопствених инструкција”. Ibid., 64. 23 Ibid., 65. 24 Vesna Mikić, Muzika u tehnokulturi, Beograd, Univerzitet umetnosti u Beogradu, 2004, 174.
140 Radovanović, B.: What does the Humming Avatar Remember? mersed in, and inseparable from, the sounds that we hear. It can, therefore, be said that the real is hereby represented as the virtual real, as the one towards which the ordinary human body gravitates. Still, the unpredictability of the avatar’s reactions on stage, as well as the necessity for real phonations (products or utterances generated in human speech or in singing/humming), maintains a relationship with what is human, irrespec- tive of the demand for modulations through technological devices. Ana Gnja- tović’s vocal musical identity balances on the thin wire between extended vocal techniques and her own, personal, electronically mediated memory. But again, if the psychologically or even physically burdensome utterances occur in the layer of the instrumental instead of the vocal persona, is that not the sign of estrange- ment from one’s own emotions with the help of technology? In the end, I pose a question for future debates: in Phonations, who performs the memory, who comments, and who is the person who observes and manages the whole event? What does the humming avatar really remember?
Works cited
Bosma, Hannah: The electronic cry: Voice and gender in electroacoustic music. Amsterdam: UvA-DARE- Digital Academic Repository, 2013. Cone, Edward T.: The Composer’s Voice. Berkley: University of California Press, 1974. Гњатовић, Ана: Phonation, за глас и електронику: теоријска студија, manuscript. Београд, 2016. McClary, Susan: Feminine Endings: Music, Gender, and Sexuality. Minneapolis-London: University of Minnesota Press, 1991. McKenzie, John: Perform or Else: From Discipline to Performance. London: Routledge, 2001. Mikić, Vesna: Muzika u tehnokulturi. Beograd: Univerzitet umetnosti u Beogradu, 2004. Stojnić, Aneta: Teorija izvođenja u digitalnoj umetnosti. Beograd: Fakultet za medije i ko- munikacije i Orion art, 2015.
141 New Sound 51, I /2018
Table 1: Phonations, list of numbers and the most important material used in each of them25 Number Material
Mix 1 LalaBarbara 1 73 Poems (Goldsmith, La Barbara)
Balance – lost (Gnjatović), Mille Regretz (trad. Balance – lost 1 Josquen des Prez)
Balance – lost 2 Balance – lost 1
Balance – lost 3 Balance – lost 1
LalaBarbara 2 LalaBarbara 1
Speak low 2 and Mix 2 Speak Low (Weill, Nash) Chamber Music (Joyce) Chamber Music 2
Chamber Music 1 Chamber Music (Joyce)
Fremden Kinderszennen (Schumann)
Oh Hermione La pioggia nel pineto (D’Annunzio)
Speak Low 1 Speak Low (Weill, Nash)
Mix 3 Diva 2, Berio La Diva de l’Empire (Satie), Sequenza III (Berio)
Diva 1 La Diva de l’Empire (Satie), colours
FV2 Fashion Victim 2 (Gnjatović)
della Nimfa Lamento della Nimfa (Monteverdi, Rinuccini)
archival recordings: Definizione di Futurismo (Marinetti, 1923), Finnegans Radio Dada Wake (Joyce, 1929), Idem the Same: A Valentine to Sherwood Anderson (Stein, 1922)
Dlačica Одприрођена поезија (Schwitters), counting
25 The table is taken from Gnjatović’s text and translated. Cf. Ана Гњатовић, op. cit., 8.
142 Radovanović, B.: What does the Humming Avatar Remember?
Summary Written as a two-fold dissertation on Ph.D. studies of composition at the Faculty of Music in Belgrade, which consists of the piece and the autopoetic text, Ana Gnjatović’s Phona- tions for voice and electronics (2016), raise, among others, questions of the performance of music for voice and electronics, as well as the issues of the composer’s/performer’s voice, and the topic of (musical) memory. Focusing on these problem points, this paper deals with Ana Gnjatović’s “vocal identity”, represented and performed in the layering sounds of voice and electronics, with Edward T. Cone’s notion of the “composer’s voice” in mind. The analysis of Phonations can be done on the basis of the recording made by the com- poser herself, and, with an afore-mentioned autopoetic text, an explication, that accompa- nies the piece. The idea behind this piece is performing memories built from composing, vocal, and literary practices and events, which refer to the music the author used to play/ sing. This, very personal, list of significant materials consists of the pieces composed by Gnjatović for this occasion or the ones composed earlier, pieces which are of great impor- tance for the composer, archival recordings of important (for the composer, as well as the history of literature) poetry and prose pieces, manifestos, conceptual and experimental works. Following Cone’s notion, in Phonations I differentiate (1) the musical persona, repre- sented by the total composer’s voice, (2) the instrumental virtual persona, i.e. the compos- er’s voice recorded on tape, whose role is to remember, and (3) the vocal persona, the avatar that represents the author, imitates the process of composing and performs the comments on recollections on tape. Here, Ana Gnjatović’s vocal musical identity balances on the thin wire between extended vocal techniques and her own, personal, electronically mediated memory.
143 New Sound 51, I /2018
Article received on March 31st 2018 Article accepted on May 16th 2018 UDC: 785.7 78.071.1 Трмчић В.
Olga Otašević* Library of the Faculty of Music University of Arts in Belgrade
‘HARMONY OF THE SPHERES’ IN THE MUSICAL ‘VITRAGE’ OF THE THIRTEEN-STAR FLOWER OF CASSIOPEIA: MICRO- AND MACRO-MANIPULATION WITH TIME AND SPACE1
‘…And the Thirteen-star flower of Cassiopeia has wilted / Fanned with the Milky Road, the never-ending rainbow...’ Marko Ristić, song The startle 2
Abstract: This paper deals with an analysis of the phantasy for orchestra Trinaestoz- vezdani cvet Kasiopeje [The Thirteen-star Flower of Cassiopeia] by Vladimir Trmčić (1983). Special attention is paid to the motivic analysis of the work and general aesthetical premises of the program, which influenced the formation of the musical flow. The static nature, sustained tones and micropolyphony enable the composer to experiment with time, space, intervals, timbres, resulting in music with an immanent logic guided by the move- ment of energy masses. Key words: Vladimir Trmčić, symphonic phantasy, music time, music space, cluster
The Thirteen-star Flower of Cassiopeia by Vladimir Trmčić** (1983), written in 2010, was commissioned by the ‘Lux aeterna’ trio of accordions from Kragu- jevac, and the following year it was revised as a version for symphonic orches-
* Author contact information: [email protected]. 1 Sound example is available online at the official New Sound YouTube channel. Please find the playlist here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKBa4wqrI-s&feature=youtu.be 2 Verses that inspired Vladimir Trmčić to write his The Thirteen-star Flower of Cassiopeia.
144 Otašević, O.: ‘Harmony of the Spheres’ in the Musical ‘Vitrage’ ... tra, this time with the subtitle ‘phantasy for orchestra’. Since then, the composi- tion for three accordions has been performed at thirteen concert performances in several towns in Serbia and also in Slovenia and Poland. The orchestral version had its premiere performance on the 25 January 2018 at the Ilija M. Kolarac En- dowment Concert Hall by The Symphony Orchestra of the Serbian Broadcasting Corporation (RTS), conducted by Jacopo Sipari di Pescasseroli, as part of the cycle ‘Premieres’.3 In this work, Trmčić gave his own musical vision of the perception of time and space in cosmic proportions. It should be noted that the sound of the accor- dion proved to be a suitable media for this kind of manipulation; in this work, accordions sound almost like the organ, with long, sustained tones à la continuo, and sometimes tonal results resembling those of electronically produced music because of the treatment of the dynamics and registers of the instrumental parts which, in addition, broaden the musical space. On the other hand, in the orches- tral version different groups of instruments are used as blocks, as a tonal and timbre potential. From the aspect of the orchestral version, it seems that Trmčić had thought in a symphonic way, even when composing the initial accordion version. In both versions the composer experiments with duration, time, dynam- ics, proportions, intervals, densities, registers, but also deals with problems re- lated to the specifics of the media.
** Vladimir Trmčić (1983) graduated composition at the Faculty of Music Arts in Belgrade, in the class of Isidora Žebeljan, and continued with PhD studies at the same Faculty in 2010, receiving his PhD in 2017. He earned a scholarship for the 18th International Summer Acad- emy Vienna-Prague-Budapest in 2008 (Sommer-akademie 08 Prag-Wien-Budapest, 10.08 – 24.08.2008). His works were performed at the international festival KOMA’ (2005–2008, 2012), during the mentioned International Summer Academy (2008), at the concert Slov- enska komorna glazba i njene evropske vzporednice in Ljubljana (2012), at the 12th and 13th International Harp Festival in Belgrade (2013–2014), and several other concerts in Ser- bia. His works were performed by many prominent performers. His work Longing, for viola and accordion was among the selected works with which Radio Belgrade presented itself at the 62nd International Rostrum of Composers in Tallinn (May 2015). Also, his works were broadcasted (both as live and recorded material) at Radio Belgrade 3, RTS Digital and Ire- land’s National Radio (RTÉ). Trmčić has been awarded by the Soziale&Kulturelle Einrichtungen der Austromechana GmbH fund in 2008, for his Tužbalica (Klagelied), for violin, viola, cello and piano, and the April Award of the City of Belgrade for 2010 for his composition Zeleno sunce Janusa, as well as with the prize of the Muzika klasika magazine for the year 2015 in the category ‘Composer of the Year’. Currently, Trmčić works as an assistant professor at the Music De- partment of the Faculty of Philology and Arts, University of Kragujevac. 3 We find this work among the selected ones at the ‘Contest for Composers’ held by RTS Mu- sical Production in January 2017, to be performed and/or recorded by their orchestra.
145 New Sound 51, I /2018
In this paper, I shall focus on a review of the orchestral version of The Thir- teen-star Flower of Cassiopeia, with occasional considerations of the accordion version. It seems that Cassiopeia shows some resemblance to The Planets by Gustav Holst, because of its program’s theme and main idea. But this is only a superfi- cial similarity. Namely, while Holst turns to the planets as more of an astrological than an astronomical phenomenon, which results in every movement of the suite bearing the character and atmosphere of the astrological meaning of a certain planet, Trmčić in his work tries to move out of the sphere of human knowledge about the influence of the planets, and into the astrophysical space, the timeless space of the universe, giving his relativisation of the notions of proportion and the flow of time. This is not the first time that Trmčić has sought a program basis within the cosmic sphere; in 2010 he wrote an ‘image for orchestra’ The Green Sun of Janus, which the orchestra of the Faculty of Music Arts in Belgrade per- formed in 2013. In both cases the inspiration was derived from celestial bod- ies and Greek/Roman mythology, while the character of the music bears a close similarity to the spirit of sci-fi film music, especially as it is treated in A Space odyssey (1968) by Stanley Kubrick and Melancholia (2011) by Lars von Trier. The slowness and static nature of Trmčić’s music in the case of Cassiopeia in the aesthetical sense resembles Andrei Tarkovsky’s film poetics, but this would be a good subject for further research. We have to point out that Trmčić gained earlier experience in composing for the organ. Liturgical Images (2005) for this instrument originated while he was a student, and largely influenced the formation of Trmčić’s style as shown in his later composition Cassiopeia. Long, sustained tones (underlined with the ‘monotonous’, potentially endless tone of the organ), the frequent use of return- ing notes, meandering around one tone/chord, leaves the impression that al- most nothing is going on in the dramaturgical sense. Occasional breakthroughs from this pattern suggest a change which does not occur every time: the cli- max, though, comes gradually, with the increased usage of clusters and a fast- er pace, or the shredding durations of musical tones. The chord, i.e. harmony, overwhelms the melodic line. Thus, the changes that we perceive do not occur so much in the vertical shifts as within the verticals themselves, as small alterations in the chord which often stands of itself because, given that this is a question of atonality, also bearing in mind the long rhythmical values of tones, we do not perceive the strong logical causality between the successive harmonic elements. Music itself has an immanent logic and is guided by sound, timbre, by the forces of energy and potential, and its static and restrained character is the result of the programmatic relations with the liturgy and ascetism.
146 Otašević, O.: ‘Harmony of the Spheres’ in the Musical ‘Vitrage’ ...
It is exactly these experiences that have reached their peak in Cassiopeia, with the motion of the potentials of the energy masses that arise from string- ing ‘dissonances’ and their ‘vibration’/alterations. However, the accordion has a tone that can be dynamically nuanced, which leads to the increased sense of mobility in comparison to Liturgical Images. The symphonic orchestra, by its nature, has an even wider range of techniques and effects which intensifies the musical flow, so the music, although static in general, has its potential, which is revealed through the musical work and relates mainly to a single tone/vertical, or the relation between two successive verticals and their dynamic nuancing. The harmonic and dynamic treatment intimated in Liturgical Images is very ap- propriate for the program that Trmčić contemplated for Cassiopeia, of which he writes when reviewing the program of his composition:
The concept of my composition includes in itself something that until now, has not been noted; a multitude of simultaneous supernovas within one constellation, ob- served from a slow motion perspective, comprehending all microprocesses leading from the collapsed iron core of the star, to a magnificent supernova… Imagine that you are attending this cosmic event: thirteen simultaneous supernovas in the constel- lation of Cassiopeia, their grandiosity, beauty, but also the terrifying destructive power of released energy, a ‘cosmic’ flower with thirteen petals of the most incredi- ble colors, which destroy everything in their path and disappear, leaving behind awakened sparks of life.4
As Trmčić writes further, because the burst of a supernova lasts very briefly – only three seconds – time is “of essential importance for this type of setting of the composition: it is slowed down”. And that deceleration is practically hyper- trophied. This matches the relativity of time and space in the cosmos; bearing in mind that the distance is measured in light years, and that time since the creation of the cosmos cannot be comprehended from our perspective, it seems like a paradox that such a big event – the explosion of a supernova – lasts so briefly. Trmčić’s Cassiopeia though extends that time interval, which is only an instant compared to eternity. In Trmčić’s music we find an adequate echo of that immobility, ‘monotony’, stability and, to some extent, the apathy of the cosmos as a whole, whose parts continue to exist even after cosmic catastrophies. Namely, the broadness of the form is predicated on the program idea. The music form is monolithic, consisting of one single particle, one core, and it is thoroughly composed. As we stated above, the music form is the result of the
4 Vladimir Trmčić, Usporeno vreme i kosmički vitraž Trinaestozvezdanog cveta Kasiopeje, manuscript, Belgrade, 2011.
147 New Sound 51, I /2018 movement of the energetic potentials of the thematic/motivic material, and their stratification. The very beginning of Cassiopeia is not striking, it is condensed and we perceive it as part of some ancient sound that existed long before this composition. The thematic plan is reduced pratically to the interval of a second – a sec- ond as a harmony, as an interval, part of a cluster, a motion, a returning tone, a suspension, both horizontally and vertically. Some parts of the musical flow, mainly in the parts played by the ‘cello and the contrabass, are perceived as an ‘ison’, a Pythagorean ‘harmony of the spheres’, in which negligeable alterations, glissandos, arpeggios are only minor deviations, which convey a feeling of a kind of micropolyphony. The whole range of orchestra is used, from the lowest to the highest register, often at the same time. Divisi, flageolet-tones and tremo- los of the string section are present in almost every section of the composition. The interval of the second is the foundation of all the motivic material; apparent- ly all of it emerges precisely as the consequence of developing the second, i.e. by the ‘variation’ of this interval. The variation of the interval is even performed through a reduction, as result of which it becomes a quarter tone – ‘microsec- ond’. The form itself can be divided into sections according to the thematic mate- rial and the appearance of new instruments: 1st section: bars 1–20 2nd section: bars 21–52 3rd section: bars 53–73 transition: bars 74–79 4th section: bars 80–96 transition: bars 97–104 5th section: bars 105–150 codetta: bars 151–157 The first section begins with the major triad E-G-sharp-B (in the flutes and the oboes) which becomes an augmented triad (i.e. an augmented seventh chord: C-E-G-sharp-B) in the moment of the returning tone in the part of the oboes, with a return to the major triad in bar 8; in the part of the clarinet we have F-G- sharp-C, an enharmonic minor triad. The ‘clash’ between the tones E-F and B-C in a chord, i.e. the interval of the minor second, as well as the motion of the mi- nor second, in this way becomes the core of the motivic material. This chordal juxtaposition we find repeated in the part of the harp, while the tremolos of the violins use all the abovementioned notes, emphasising that clash of minor sec- onds. The almost chamber sound of the flutes, clarinets, oboes, harp and violins
148 Otašević, O.: ‘Harmony of the Spheres’ in the Musical ‘Vitrage’ ... is underlined with dynamics which rest between ppp and p, with a wavy mf in the tremolos of the first violin. The second section (bar 21) begins with the gradual entrance of new instru- ments; it is a ‘second exposition’, in which only the instruments that were omit- ted in the first section (the trombones, tuba with bassoons and tam-tam, ‘cellos and double basses) participate, with the addition of the harp. The dissonance is sharpened here: in the divisi of the strings there is a cluster consisting of two mi- nor successive seconds. This motive is transferred to the other instruments. The French horns in bar 28 take over the role of carrying the main motive (minor second F-G-flat) in the lowest register. The combination of the contrabassoon and double bass also carries this principal motive, but it is inverted (a minor second downwards). The third section (bar 53) is dominated by the instruments from the first one, which bring the ‘decomposed’ motive of the returning note from the beginning; the descending second becomes the motive which is metro-rhythmically varied now, and which forms clusters in the encounter with tones of other instruments. A short transition (bar 74) gives a hint of the main material of the fourth section (bar 80). It is a glissando of the harp, consisting of the tones A-flat-B-flat-C-D- E-flat-F that alternate with the sequence A-B-C-D-E-flat-F. This material reccurs in the part of flute, the clarinet and, in a decomposed form, in part of the oboe. The transition which follows repeats the motive of the downward minor second from the third section. The fifth section (bar 105) has the role of the development section and the climax of the work. We find the gradual stratification of all the motives which were exposed earlier; they are freely distributed across the instrumental parts. We find the motive of the descending second combined with the motive of the returning tone from the first section; there is also a quasi glissando (from the fourth section, in the flute) between these seconds, and we can locate a line that starts to lead to the climax, from bar 116 in the violas (doubled in the part of clarinet), and it is transferred to the higher instruments in the next bars, with the second-pace growing. The potential of the interval of the second is released completely, and with the returning notes and the dynamic, the melody conquers ever increasing heights. This moment is crucial – in the parts of the other instru- ments some other motives are introduced, derived from the previous ones, with new potential and energy: the wide quasi arpeggios in the string parts, the free, broken lines derived from the arpeggios in the parts of the woodwinds (espe- cially the flutes and clarinets). This stratification results in total ‘chaos’ in the fff dynamics: clusters of the tremolos of quarter-tones in the divisi of the strings create a cacophonous base for the glissando of the harp through all the registers,
149 New Sound 51, I /2018 while the motive of the descending second F-E shows itself on the foundation made of clusters of horns and the chromatics of the bassoon. After bar 147 there is a slow fade-out through the clusters of the lower strings; from this moment, the instruments are gradually switched off after the reduction to one tone or in- terval, along with a general decrease in dynamics – from the fff in bar 147, to p in bar 148. In the part of the trombones we find quarter-tones (the motive of the descending second) which sound out of tune and fade out. In bar 151 the harp brings a reminiscence of the clash of the major and minor chord in the interval of the second, like the one that was heard at the beginning, but this time upwards ‘E-G-sharp-B against F-A-flat-C.’ Only the strings, the harp, and the tam-tam appear in codetta, which is concluded with the fading sparkle of the tremolos. Susan Langer writes that ‘All music creates an order of virtual time, in which its sonorous forms move in relation to each other – always and only to each other, for nothing else exists there...’.5 Vladimir Trmčić also created some kind of ‘virtual time’, by referring to extending infinite time in the cosmos. It seems as though the music from the beginning of Casiopeia started much earli- er, but we failed to hear it. The composition ends in a similar way – it fades out, with one bar of a sustained pause at the very end; just as if we drifted apart from the sound source, which continues to exist. Bearing in mind the program idea, Trmčić’s Cassiopeia does not sound entirely like a completed work, but more like a small excerpt from an eternal sound and from the eternal harmony of the spheres.
Works cited
Langer, Susanne K.: Feeling and Form: A Theory of Art. New York: Charles Scribner’s sons, 1953. Trmčić, Vladimir: Usporeno vreme i kosmički vitraž Trinaestozvezdanog cveta Kasiopeje, manuscript. Belgrade, 2011.
Summary The Thirteen-star Flower of Cassiopeia by Vladimir Trmčić (1983) was commissioned for a trio of accordions. In this first version, Trmčić showed symphonic thinking, and the year after that (2011), he successfully arranged this work for the symphonic orchestra. In the aesthetic sense, Trmčić’s starting point is contained in the verses written by surre-
5 Susanne K. Langer, Feeling and Form: A Theory of Art, New York, Charles Scribner’s sons, 1953, 109–110.
150 Otašević, O.: ‘Harmony of the Spheres’ in the Musical ‘Vitrage’ ... alist poet Marko Ristić, as well as in the domain of astrophysics: a hypothetical situation in space when thirteen supernovae occur simultaneously. The deceleration of time, which derives from the program idea (in the words of the composer), is hypertrophied. This corresponds with Trmčić’s general musical expression. We find his Liturgical Images (2005), a student work for the organ, as the predecessor of Cassiopeia; the long, sustained tones, meandering around one tone/chord, create the impression that almost nothing is going on in the sphere of dramaturgy. The chord, i.e. the harmony, overwhelms the me- lodic line, as the climax comes gradually, with the increased usage of clusters. Thus, the changes that we perceive happen not so much as vertical shifts, but occur within the ver- ticals themselves, as small alterations in the chord which often stand per se. The music itself has an immanent logic and is guided by the sound, timbre, by moving the forces of energy and potential. Nevertheless, the very similar music ‘result’ of these two compositions derives from dif- ferent program ideas: Liturgical Images was inspired by the liturgy and asceticism, while in Cassiopeia we find the program relations with endless dimensions of the cosmos, both the time and spatial ones, which result with the relativisation of time and space in this composition. The whole range of the orchestra is used, from the lowest to the highest register, often at the same time. Some parts of the musical flow, mainly in the parts played by the ‘cello and contrabass, are perceived as an ‘ison’, in which alterations, glissandos, tremolos are only minor deviations, which gives the feeling of a kind of micropolyphony. Cassiopeia has a thoroughly composed form, with five sections, transitions and codetta. These sections are clearly marked by different orchestral situations. Тhe interval of a minor second represents the foundation of all the motivic material in this composition. It is varied and emerges as an interval (a returning, sustained tone, or a part of some broader motive), or as the part of a chord (for example, in a juxtaposed chord in part 1, or in clus- ters). In the last bars of Cassiopeia, the variation of the minor second is even performed through a reduction, as a result of which it becomes a quarter tone – ‘microsecond’.
151 New Sound 51, I /2018
152 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis
ANALYTICAL PERSPECTIVES
Article received on April 16th 2018 Revised version accepted on May 24th 2018 UDC: 781.1:514.116
Dragan Latinčić* University of Arts in Belgrade Faculty of Music Department of Composition
POSSIBLE PRINCIPLES OF MATHEMATICAL MUSIC ANALYSIS
Abstract: The text is a summary of many years of research in the domains of micro-in- tervals, metric-rhythmic projection of the spectrum harmonics, and the establishment of a link with mathematics, more precisely, geometry, with a special focus on the application of the Pythagorean Theorem. Mathematical music analysis enables the establishment of methods for constructing right, obtuse, and acute musical triangles as well as projections of their edges (sides), which are recognized in trigonometry as the functions of angles: the sine, cosine, and so on; as well as the establishment of methods for constructing spectral and scalar (intonative-temporal) trigonometric unit circles with their function graphs. Keywords: Aristoxenus of Tarentum, Johannes Kepler, lambdoma, micro-intervals, Py- thagoras, planimetrics, rhythm, spectrum, trigonometry, triangle
Many years of research in the field of micro-intervals in the theory and prac- tice of Middle Eastern and North African folk music as well as efforts to bring the language of mathematics closer to elementary musical tools such as rhythm,
* Author contact information: [email protected]
153 New Sound 51, I /2018 metre, mode, and spectrum have yielded results in several publications: first, in my doctoral artistic project titled Primena mikrotonalnosti (a) u instrumentalnoj blisko-istočnoj i balkanskoj muzici folklorne provenijencije, te (b) u instrumen- talnoj, kamernoj i orkestarskoj muzici akustičkog tipa u savremenoj zapadnoj umetničkoj muzici (pokušaj zasnivanja jedne autonomne stvaralačko-kompozi- torske koncepcije (The Application of Micro-tonality (a) in Middle Eastern and Balkan Instrumental Folk Music and (b) in Western Acoustic Instrumen- tal, Chamber, and Orchestral Music (An Attempt at Founding an Autonomous Creative-compositional Conception), 2014) and (2) Spektralna trigonometrija (zasnivanje univerzalne muzičko-matematičke analize (Spectral Trigonometry (Establishing a Universal Music-Mathematical Analysis) from 2017. Thus posited, the discipline of mathematical music analysis rests on the as- sumption of a link between mathematics, specifically geometry on the one hand, and music on the other. Both studies mentioned above are based on the method of projecting individual harmonics of the spectrum.1
1. The Projection Method The projection of intervals or chords is a procedure whereby one and the same elementary structure is retained, but its function is replaced. The vertical configu- ration of two different pitches (harmonic interval) or that of three or more differ- ent pitches (harmonic chord) is projected into the horizontal configuration of two different pitch lengths (projected interval) or that of three or more different pitch lengths (projected chord). Function replacement denotes the replacement of a harmonic ratio (identified by height determined by two points in space) by means of a projector into a new position – a position delineated by two points in time determined by the projected length, from which one may observe, define, and metrically calculate the propagation velocity of a given tonal ratio (or several of them). Therefore, a harmonic interval now comprises a unique relation: original pitch – projected length. The next step involves the establishment of a causal re- lation between three basic functions: pitch-length-velocity – a relation that, from the vertical perspective of harmony, already exists between any two harmonics in the spectrum. By means of function replacement, the newly acquired projected intervals and chords establish a new order in the system of proportions. A projected harmonic octave, determined by the ratio between the second harmonic and the fundamental, would produce a rhythmic octave, constituted
1 This concerns an abstract image of a projector that translates superimposed harmonics (the partials of an arbitrary fundamental) onto the metric-rhythmic plane. For more on the projec- tor and the projection method, see the author’s DMA dissertation, 115–122.
154 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis by two equal rhythmic units. The projection method entails the differentiation of spectral space into four regions. The ratio between any individual harmon- ic and the fundamental is called absolute pitch. Only the second harmonic has absolute pitch only, in relation to the fundamental, and no relative pitch. The ratio between a higher and lower harmonic is called relative pitch. For instance, a relative pitch will take shape in the ratio between the third and second har- monic. Further, every harmonic contains a collection of intervals comprising all ratios between the higher and every lower harmonic (e.g. the relative pitches of the fifth harmonic: 5:4, 5:3, and 5:2), as well as in relation to the fundamen- tal (the absolute pitch of the fifth harmonic: 5:1). In vertical projection, the oc- tave intersects with the spectrum at even-numbered harmonics (4:2 or 6:3 or 8:4 etc.), which means that all relative pitches that are less than half the value of the fundamental will always be on the so-called left side of the spectrum (e.g. the relative pitches of the fifth harmonic to the left: 5:4 and 5:3), starting from the third index number. Those relative pitches that exceed half the value of the fundamental will appear with the absolute pitch of each individual harmonic on the right-hand side of the spectrum (the relative and absolute pitches of the fifth harmonic on the right-hand side of the spectrum: 5:2 and 5:1). The relative pitch of the third harmonic is a perfect fifth (3:2), located on the left-hand side of the spectrum, while the absolute pitch of the third harmonic’s collection of intervals is a perfect twelfth (3:1), located on the right-hand side of the spectrum. In the fourth harmonic’s collection of intervals the relative pitch is a perfect fourth (4:3) on the left-hand side, while the absolute pitch is a perfect fifteenth (4:1) located on the right-hand side of the spectrum. The principle remains consistent further up and down the right- and left-hand side of higher harmonics. Comparing the left- and right-hand sides of the spectrum is justified by fur- ther examination of metric progression and rhythmic sequencing by means of projecting collections of intervals from the referential systems of individual har- monics in the spectrum. On the left-hand side of the spectrum, projecting the ratio of any two harmonics will always yield an iamb, whereas on the right-hand side the result will always be a trochee. Both of them consist of projected inter- vals. In a metric ratio of 3:2 a rhythmic fifth is an iamb, whereas in a 3:1 ratio a rhythmic twelfth is a trochee. If we make a rhythmic crotchet (quarter-note) the fundamental of the spectrum and the basic measuring unit, an iamb would equal a triplet quaver (eighth-note) and a triplet crotchet (1/3 + 2/3). In that regard, an iamb and trochee are measurable in thirds, because the longer part is twice longer than the short part. In a metric ratio of 4:3 a rhythmic fourth is likewise equivalent to an iamb, while in a 4:1 ratio a rhythmic double-octave is again equivalent to a trochee. Again, if we make a rhythmic crotchet the fundamental of the spectrum, an iamb will equal a rhythmic semiquaver (sixteenth-note) and
155 New Sound 51, I /2018 a rhythmic dotted quaver (1/4 + 3/4). An iamb and trochee would now be mea- surable in quarters, because the longer part would be three times longer than the shorter part. The projection method is also applicable on the other side of the spectrum, which extends inversely, mirror-like, below the fundamental of the spectrum. This comprises the sub-harmonics, which are derived by means of the old Py- thagorean procedure known as lambdoma, whereby the denominator and numer- ator of the fraction that constitute the value of a given harmonic in the higher region of the spectrum switch places; in concrete terms, producing the other, inversely proportional value of one and the same elementary structure. For the measuring ratio of a perfect fifth (3:2), from the perspective of the upper region of the spectrum, the sum of intervals equals 1/3 + 2/3. For the measuring ratio of a perfect fifth (3:2) from the perspective of the lower region of the spectrum the ratio of intervals equals 1+2. The basic metric segment in the projection of the second and third harmonic (1/3) is inversely proportional to metric length in the projection of the second and third sub-harmonics (3/1). For the measuring ratio of a perfect twelfth (3:1) from the perspective of the upper spectrum, the sum of intervals equals (2/3 + 1/3). For the measuring ratio of a twelfth (3:1) from the perspective of the lower region of the spectrum the sum of intervals equals (1 + 1/2). The basic metric segment in the projection of the third harmonic in relation to the fundamental (2/3) is inversely proportional to the metric duration in the projection of the third sub-harmonic in relation to the fundamental (3/2). Therefore, the terms upper-left/right (1) and lower-left/right (2) serve to identify the spectral region of any given ratio between two harmonics or sub-har- monics. The principle remains the same throughout the right- and left-hand side of the upper harmonics and sub-harmonics.
2. The Measuring of Spectral Angles and Triangles The German mathematician, astronomer, and astrologer Johannes Kepler, (1571–1630) “compared circles and strings and reasoned that consonant inter- vals are only those that stem from polygons that may be inscribed in a circle (using a ruler and compass). A string is shaped into a circle, the figure divides the circle into segments that one compares to one another to define intervals. The triangle thus corresponds to the interval of the fifth, because it divides the string by putting one segment into proportion with two segments or one segment into proportion with the entire string, which means the ratios of 2:3 and 1:3. On the basis of this proof, Kepler could claim that harmonic ratios stemmed from angular velocity (the size of the angle traversed by the planets around the Sun
156 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis in a given amount of time), and not, as was constantly repeated since Antiquity, from linear distances and velocities”.2 This proof by Kepler also underlies the measuring of the angles of spectral intervals on both sides of the lower and upper region of the spectrum.3 Musi- cal notation is read and interpreted from left to right, in contrast to the quad- rants of the Cartesian coordinate system. In a rhythmic projection, the octave as the second harmonic is (1) faster (equalling 1/2) or slower (equalling 2/1) than the velocity of the fundamental; and/or (2) shorter (equalling 1/2) or longer (equalling 2/1) than the length of the fundamental. In this context, there will be two perspectives for one and the same phenomenon under observation – a phe- nomenon accommodating a change in the position of the second, or, in general terms, any harmonic in relation to the fundamental. Therefore, the fundamental is defined as the referential body, and the harmonic along with the fundamental (and its collection of intervals) as the referential system. Both the octave above and the octave below the fundamental constitute the coordinates that determine the trajectory whereby a given harmonic revolves around the fundamental; we may therefore conclude that the second harmonic, too, even though it has no col- lection of intervals that would allow us to differentiate between its relative and absolute pitch, still constitutes a referential system. From the first perspective, we might observe that the second harmonic revolves around its centre/funda- mental and rotates around its axis faster (1/2) than the axial rotation of the funda- mental (1/1), but revolves around the fundamental in a durational value twice as long (2/1) as that with which we determine the proximity of the harmonic to the referential body. From the second perspective, we might observe that the same harmonic circles around its centre-fundamental and rotates around its axis more slowly (2/1) than the axial rotation of the fundamental (1/1), but makes a full cir- cle around the fundamental in a durational value two times smaller (1/2) than the value we use to determine the distance of the harmonic from the referential body. If we compared the motion of the harmonic with that of a material point along a circle in the referential system of the second harmonic, bearing in mind that we took the π geometrical constant to serve as the line segment of the funda- mental,4 we might note that the radius vector of this point produces the follow- ing angles and angular displacements: Δθ: (1) π/2 rad. corresponds to an angle of 900 i.e. a convex (right) angle or the projected angle of a rhythmic quaver against a rhythmic quaver; (2) π rad. corresponds to an angle of 1800 i.e. a straight angle,
2 Filip Vendriks, Muzika u renesansi, Belgrade, Clio, 2005, 78. 3 Dragan Latinčić, Mikrointervali u spektralnoj geometriji, Belgrade, Zadužbina Andrejević, 2015, 63–73. 4 The value of the fundamental in this projection equals a rhythmic crotchet.
157 New Sound 51, I /2018 that is, the line segment of the fundamental (which equals a rhythmic crotchet); (3) 3π/2 rad. corresponds to an angle of 2700 i.e. a concave angle or the project- ed angle of a rhythmic minim (a rhythmic crotchet against a rhythmic crotchet). If we compared the movement of a harmonic with that of a material point along a circle in the referential system of the third harmonic, we would observe that its radius vector outlines the following angles and produces the following angular displacements Δθ: (1) π/3 rad. corresponds to an angle of 600 i.e. a con- vex (acute) angle that is the projected angle of a triplet quaver against a triplet crotchet; (2) 2π/3 rad. corresponds to an angle of 1200 i.e. a convex (obtuse) angle that is the projected angle of a triplet crotchet against a triplet quaver; (3) 4π/3 rad. corresponds to an angle of 2400 i.e. a concave angle that is the pro- jected angle of a rhythmic crotchet against a rhythmic quaver; and (4) 5π/3 rad. corresponds to an angle of 3000 i.e. a concave angle that is the projected angle of a rhythmic crotchet against a rhythmic minim. The first angular displacement is identified with the interval of the fifth in the upper region of the spectrum (3:2) as well as its metrical-rhythmic projection (which also applies to all other intervals of the spectrum). The perfect-fifth angle (600) would correspond to one third of the length of an arc circumscribed around an equilateral triangle – which would equal 1200. This length would equal one third (600) of the half-perimeter of the circle (1800). The second angular dis- placement is identified with the interval of a perfect twelfth in the upper region of the spectrum (3:1). The perfect-twelfth angle (1200) would correspond to two thirds of the length of the arc of a circle circumscribed around an equilateral triangle – which would equal 1200. This length would correspond to two thirds (1200) of the circle’s half-perimeter. The third angular displacement (2400) is identified with the interval of a perfect twelfth in the lower region of the spec- trum (3:1) as the difference between a full angle and the upper-spectrum per- fect-twelfth angle (3600 – 1200), and the fourth angular displacement (3000) is identified with the interval of a perfect fifth in the lower region of the spectrum (3:2) as the difference between a full angle and an upper-spectrum perfect-fifth angle (3600 − 600). The unit circle of the spectrum would have to be assumed to be infinite. The reason is that there is an array of harmonics higher than the 16th index num- ber of the spectrum that are ramified in the same exponential progression as the lower ones. The circumference of the angles of upper-region spectral intervals is derived by having the diameter of the fundamental serve as the π geometric constant. This way, one may derive the angles of the following partial spectral in- tervals: minor third (6:5=300), major third (5:4=360), perfect fourth (4:3=450),
158 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis perfect fifth (3:2=600), major sixth (5:3=720), octave (2:1=900), major tenth (5:2=1080), perfect twelfth (3:1=1200), double octave (4:1=1350), major seven- teenth (5:1=1440), super-twelfth (6:1=1500), and so on. The circumference of the angles of spectral intervals in the lower region of the spectrum is performed counter-clockwise from the third quadrant. This way, one may derive the angles of the following spectral summation intervals: su- per-twelfth (6:1=2100), major seventeenth (5:1=2160), double octave (4:1=2250), perfect twelfth (3:1=2400), major tenth (5:2=2520), octave (2:1=2700), major sixth (5:3=2880), perfect fifth (3:2=3000), perfect fourth (4:3=3150), major third (5:4=3240), minor third (6:5=3300), and so on. A chord is the sum of two intervals. Projection generated two intervals only in the referential system of the third harmonic (two in the upper region of the spectrum: 1/3 + 2/3 and 2/3 + 1/3; and two in the lower region of the spectrum 1 + 2 and 1 + 1/2). If two interval ratios were superimposed in the projected inter- val constellations, this would produce a projected chord, in concrete terms, the rhythmic chord of the third harmonic. Therefore, superimposing the ratios that applied to the interval constellations of the collection of intervals of the third harmonic mentioned above, (1/3 + 2/3) and (2/3 + 1/3), would produce a unique relation: (1/3 + 1/3 + 1/3). The projected chord now makes a planar triangle that would be equilateral in the referential system of the third harmonic (with equal angles): 600 + 600 + 600. (Figure 1) The respective relations between a higher harmonic and harmonics below it may be practically explained using the example of the three sides of a trian- gle. This would be a chordal triangle comprising three independently isolated frequencies originating from an arbitrarily chosen fundamental. These frequen- cies would constitute the intersections of metrical length – length that could be demonstrated by means of a projector, using mathematical formulations of met- rical-rhythmic distances. The next task would concern the identification of both entities. The first entity would comprise three isolated frequencies, which would consist of the vertices of a planar triangle. The second entity would comprise the sides (edges) of the triangle as a metric length in the projection of a harmonic ra- tio. Both entities would thus come together in the geometric figure of a triangle with all of its planimetric and trigonometric characteristics. This task also entails (1) establishing methods for constructing right, ob- tuse, and acute musical triangles as well as projections of the ratios between the sides, which is recognized in trigonometry as the angular function of these scalar triangles: the sine, cosine, and so on; as well as (2) the establishment of methods for constructing spectral and scalar (intonation-temporal) trigonometric circles with their function graphs.
159 New Sound 51, I /2018 E
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160 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis
3. Applying the Pythagorean Theorem to the Temporality of Rhythmic Projections of Individual Harmonics in the Spectrum Using the method of metric-rhythmic projection, it is possible to prove the ap- plicability of the Pythagorean Theorem primarily with respect to the temporality of individual harmonics of the spectrum. The formulation derived would be ap- plicable via the first Pythagorean triple (as well as all other Pythagorean triples), as follows: (3/x)2 + (4/x)2 = (5/x)2. The denominator serves to enable the recog- nition of the partials of the fundamental that pertain to the system of the given harmonic in the spectrum. If we took one sixth of a given individual relation as the numerator, that would mean that the quadrant of the described structure would be recognisable from the referential system of the sixth harmonic: (3/6)2 + (4/6)2 = (5/6)2. If we simplify the formulation to: (1/2)2 + (2/3)2 = (5/6)2 we may see that the sum of squares constructed on the octave and the twelfth equals a square constructed on the super-twelfth. If we take a rhythmic crotchet as the fundamental of the spectrum, a triplet semiquaver could become the common denominator for squares constructed on the octave, twelfth, and super twelfth. The “octave square” whose common multiple is a triplet semiquaver, which by means of the number 3 (the first number in the first Pythagorean triple) forms the adjacent side of the octave triangle, would equal nine triplet semiquavers. We may see that the octave square is a summation rhythmic twelfth (3/2) – i.e. (32 • 1/6 = 3/2). The “twelfth square”, whose common multiple is likewise a triplet semiqua- ver, which by means of the number 4 (the second number in the first Pythagorean triple) forms the opposite side of the triangle of the twelfth, would equal 16 trip- let semiquavers. We may see that a square on the twelfth is a summation minor sixth (8/3) – i.e. (42 • 1/6 = 8/3). Finally, the “super-twelfth” square, whose common multiple again is a trip- let semiquaver, which by means of the number 5 (the third number in the first Py- thagorean triple) forms the hypotenuse of the super-twelfth triangle, would equal 25 triplet semiquavers. We may see that the super-twelfth square is a rhythmic semibreve (whole note) tied to a triplet semiquaver (25/6). (Figure 2) Rhythmic factors are substituted by means of mathematical analysis of the trigonometric functions. Since this concerns a Pythagorean right triangle | 3 4 5 |, the angle formed by the octave and twelfth sides is 900, the angle formed by the twelfth side and super-twelfth hypotenuse acquires a new value in relation to the value of the minor-third referential angle (300) and equals θ = 300 + 60 52’12’’, while the angle formed by the super-twelfth hypotenuse and octave side acquires a new value in relation to the value of the perfect-fifth referential angle (600) and equals the remaining 600 − 60 52’12’’. The trigonometric functions of the acute angle (θ = 360 52’12’’) of a right triangle with its sides forming the first Pythago- rean triple are determined as follows.
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Figure 2 – Applying the Pythagorean Theorem on the right angle of the sixth harmonic of the spectrum
The sine of the angle – sin θ is the ratio between the opposite side and the hypotenuse, more precisely, the quotient of an octave and a super twelfth or [(1/2) / (5/6)]. The quotient of these two fractions is 3/5. The cosine of the angle – cos θ is the ratio between the adjacent side and the hypotenuse, more precisely, the quotient of a twelfth and a super-twelfth or [(2/3) / (5/6)]. The quotient of these two fractions is 4/5.
162 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis
The tangent of the angle – tan θ is the ratio between the opposite and ad- jacent sides, more precisely, the quotient of an octave and a twelfth or [(1/2) / (2/3)]. The quotient of these two fractions is 3/4. The cotangent of the angle – cot θ is the ratio between the adjacent and opposite sides, more precisely, the quotient of a twelfth and an octave or [(2/3) / (1/2)]. The quotient of these two fractions is 4/3. The secant of the angle – sec θ is the ratio between the hypotenuse and ad- jacent side, more precisely, the quotient of a super twelfth and twelfth or [(5/6) / (2/3)]. The quotient of these two fractions is 5/4. The cosecant of the angle – csc θ is the ratio between the hypotenuse and the opposite side (edge), more precisely, the quotient of a super twelfth and an octave, [(5/6) / (1/2)]. The quotient of these two fractions is 5/3. The ratio between the intervals of the collection of intervals of the sixth harmonic in the spectrum, comprising the octave (6:3), twelfth (6:2), and super twelfth (6:1), established via the Pythagorean Theorem, which can be expressed with the following mathematical relation: (1/2)2 + (2/3)2 = (5/6)2, may now be applied, following the same principle, to the collections of intervals of other individual harmonics in the spectrum. From among several examples, we will look at one more. If we take one fourth of a given individual ratio between two harmonics as our denominator that would mean that the square of that structure would be recognisable from the referential system of the fourth harmonic: (3/4)2 + (4/4)2 = (5/4)2. If we take one rhythmic crotchet as our measuring unit (1), via the first Pythagorean triple |3 4 5|, a rhythmic crotchet is multiplied by means of the Py- thagorean Theorem, which adheres to the following rule: a2 + b2 = c2, in the fol- lowing way: (3 × one rhythmic semiquaver)2 + (4 × one rhythmic semiquaver)2 = (5 × one rhythmic semiquaver)2. It follows that the sum of a squared dotted rhythmic quaver and a squared rhythmic crotchet equals the square of a rhythmic crotchet tied to a rhythmic semiquaver. The mathematical formula of the first Pythagorean triple: 23 + 42 = 52 in the referential system of the fourth harmonic (which would apply to a per- fect fourth) is equivalent to: (3/4)2 + 12 = (5/4)2. This formulation is identical to that found in an ancient Egyptian papyrus discovered at Kahun, from around 2000 BC. Among other things, this papyrus, dated to the time of Egypt’s 12th dynasty, mentions the relation linked above to the referential system of the fourth harmonic of the spectrum, by applying the Pythagorean Theorem: 12 + (3/4)2 = (1 ¼)2: “The Egyptians also knew the nu- merical relation for special cases, for a papyrus of the 12th dynasty (c. 2000 B. C.), discovered at Kahun, refers to four of these relations, one being 12 + (3/4)2
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= (1¼)2. It was among these people that we first hear of the ‘rope stretchers’, those surveyors who, it is usually thought, were able by the aid of this property to stretch a rope so as to draw a line perpendicular to another line, a method still in use at the present time”.5 (Figure 3)
Figure 3 – Applying the Pythagorean Theorem to the perfect-fourth triangle of the fourth harmonic of the spectrum
By analogy to the first Pythagorean Theorem, we may now construct spec- tral triangles from higher triples, which are likewise governed by the Pythagore- an Theorem. The principle is the same. Choosing a projected rhythmic interval as the measuring unit and a higher triple enables the analysis of new interval side lengths, as well as the intersections of those triangle sides (edges) at new angles.
5 D. E. Smith, History of Mathematics (Volume II). Special Topics of Elementary Mathemat- ics, Boston, Ginn and Company, 1, 1925, 288.
164 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis
4. Isometric Transformations of Spectral Triangles Relations applicable to the spectrum may be consistently transformed into the scalar and temporal system. So far, we have observed spectral geometric entities on the basis of projections of metric-rhythmic structures. We will now perform the process of transforming the newly acquired geometric entities (primarily tri- angles) into a system of musical scales. Using Aristoxenus’s equivalence of dis- tance and height, we may observe that the Pythagorean Theorem applies to scale intervals (chords) as well. Observing Aristoxenus’s (´Aριστόξενος) empirical di- vision of the octave into six equal whole tones and 12 semitones, we may draw an analogy with the sharpening of scale resolution in the following way: we would divide the octave scale within the referential system of the third harmonic of the spectrum into 18 equal segments – third-tones, while the scale within the referential system of the fourth harmonic in the spectrum would be divided into 24 equal segments – quarter-tones.6 Transformation is a function whereby individual points are mapped onto some other points. The type of transformation that preserves the same distances and angles is called isometric transformation. Isometric transformation of pro- jected metric lengths of original harmonics is a function that maps individual spectral frequencies as intonation points (retreats) within an arbitrarily chosen musical scale. Regarding this transformation, one should note that the intonation points of retreat match the polygonal line of the spectral metric-rhythmic pro- jection. A series of three (intonative-temporal) line segments are linked together. The process of isometric transformation unfolds in several different stages. In the first stage, the first Pythagorean triple |3 4 5| is isolated. Then, further triples are generated on the basis of the first, original triple, by multiplying it with the number of each harmonic (from the second to the 16th), for instance: |(3 × 2) (4 × 2) (5 × 2)| which equals |6 8 10| or |(3 × 3) (4 × 3) (5 × 3)| which is |9 12 15| and so on. In the second stage, the numbers of the first Pythagorean triple |3 4 5| and those of the following triples derived from it, |6 8 10| |9 12 15|, are divided by their common denominator, which is also the number of the harmonic. This denominator sharpens scalar (intonative) resolution (6/3, 8/3, and 10/3). In the third stage, scale values may be defined by distance from the next pitch (that is, the pitch of an individual point in the scale triangle). The pitches successively
6 Only in theory, one cannot exclude an even finer fragmentation of intonative resolution, which means that the octave scale of the fifth harmonic could be divided into 30 equal fifth- tones and that of the sixth harmonic into 36 equal sixth-tones. This is mentioned here on the assumption that intonative displacements of this kind of sophistication may be found in Mid- dle Eastern and North African folk music.
165 New Sound 51, I /2018 stack up the farther we get from their common multiple (fundamental), which suggests that each new pitch becomes the starting (zero-) point in relation to the preceding one. The superiority of this type of transformation, which is performed by jux- taposing pitches, is reflected in the fact that it offers the multiple possibility of constructing a triangle with the same ratios between its sides, substituting the rhythmic and intonative factors in the planimetry. The superiority of this type of transformation is also reflected in that the vertices of an isosceles triangle or the vertices of an equilateral triangle are distinguished by different intonation distances. (Figure 4)
Figure 4 – Isometric transformations of spectral triangles
This is a good place to remember some words by the Serbian musicologist Dragutin Gostuški and link the example of isometric transformation of a tempo- ral-intonation triangle with the ratio between the numbers 3, 4, and 5, used by ancient Greek instrument builders to tie the strings of a lyre. One cannot even ask the question whether and to what degree the mathematical analogy between the figural and the musical is justified before answering the ques- tion about the cause of matching between a physical phenomenon and elementary
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relations among natural numbers. For, we may agree with Crocker that the fact that 3, 4, and 5, that is, the only numbers that lend the Pythagorean Theorem a rational solution, simultaneously match the ratios of the Egyptian ‘holy triangle’, the princi- ple that ancient Greek instrument builders used to tie the strings on the lyre, and the frequency ratio of the European major chord is a ‘tautology’. We may therefore say that musical intervals were chosen according to numeric ratios and not that those ratios were later discovered. However, the question of harmonics does not yield to choice; and the question lies therein. A satisfactory answer has yet to be found.7 In Figure 4, the sixth example in the first row shows the juxtaposition of the temporal distances of a right triangle (c = 5/2; b = 4/2; a = 3/2), causing a displacement of the frequencies (the vertices of this triangle) according to the following configuration: (A = f1; C = а1; B = c2). Since this is a right triangle, the orthocentre of this scale triangle would be its altitude (height), c2. If we make c1 the starting position of the scale, isometric transformation will produce a sonori- ty comprising f1 – a perfect fourth (the fourth harmonic) from the starting posi- tion, a1 – a major third (the fifth harmonic) from the starting position of 1f , and c2 – a minor third (the sixth harmonic) from the frequency of a1, therefore 6:5:4, which is recognized in European music theory precisely as the European major triad. This is yet another reason why it is important to observe the principle of isometric transformation by means of juxtaposing frequencies. The procedure of isometric transformation proves the applicability of the Pythagorean as well as many other theorems in trigonometry, such as the sine, cosine, and tangent theorems, as well as Mollweide’s formula. My book Spek- tralna trigonometrija (zasnivanje univerzalne muzičko-matematičke analize) offers insight into the method of constructing musical figures (triangles) with concise and minute mathematical derivatives and formulae. The procedure of isometric transformation opens the possibility of constructing right, acute, and obtuse angles within musical scales with all the accompanying planimetric and trigonometric characteristics.8
5. Applying the Trigonometric Functions to the Scalar Musical Plane The sine is a curve; in music, a glissando could be used to describe a curve. If the sine curve of a glissando rises and falls in the first and second quadrant, the glissando will rise and fall above the horizon of the fundamental. If the sine falls
7 Dragutin Gostuški, Vreme umetnosti: Prilog zasnivanju jedne opšte nauke o oblicima, Belgrade, Prosveta, 1968, 242. 8 Dragan Latinčić, Spektralna trigonometrija (zasnivanje univerzalne muzičko-matematičke analize), Belgrade, Zadužbina Andrejević, 2017, 119–132.
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and rises in the third and fourth quadrants, the glissando will fall and then rise beneath the horizon of the fundamental. The sine accommodates all values from one whole step (a major second) above the starting position in the interval [0, π] for the first two quadrants as well as all values from one whole step (a major second) above the starting position in the interval [π, 2π] for the other two quad- rants. If we take the horizon of the fundamental as the starting position of the scale, for instance, c1, we may determine the sine function co-domain [1,−1]. It would equal the scale value of a major third [1 = d1, −1 = b]. If the sine accom- modates values up to a whole degree for each quadrant, that would mean that a half-step would equal 300 on the sine graph. The formula for calculating the sine intonation retreat point in a trigonometric unit circle whose co-domain is a major third is the product of the desired frequency and the sixth root of 2 (because the octave is divided into six equal parts) raised to the power of the sine of the chosen interval angle. For instance, for the frequency of c1 (261.63 Hz) the corresponding val- sin90 6 1 ue will be 261 .63 × 2 = 293.66 Hz, which equals one distance (d ) of sin30 1 6 the scale sine from the starting frequency (c ); or, 261 .63 × 2 = 277.18 Hz, which is 1/2 of the distance (c sharp1) from the starting frequency (c1); or, 6 sin14.4775 261 .63 × 2 = 269.29 Hz, which is 1/4 of the distance (c1 + 1/4) from the starting frequency (c1), and so on. The sine relations in each quadrant are verified with the formula for calcu- lating the sine intonation retreat point. To verify a quarter of the distance above
the starting scale position (c1 + 1/4 for the frequency of c1 = 261.63 Hz), from the first and second quadrants, the following comparison is used: 6 sin14.4775 6 sin 165.5225 261 .63 × 2 = 261.63 × 2 = 269.29 Hz. It is similar with calculating one half of the distance (c-sharp1) from the frequen- sin30 sin 150 1 6 6 cy of c : 261 .63 × 2 = 261.63 × 2 = 277.18 Hz. In general, the formula for any intonation trigonometric retreat in a trig- 6 sin|cos|tan|cot|sec|csc onometric unit circle would be as follows: f × 2 with f 6 denoting frequency in Hz and 2 the power base of the unit circle with whose co-domain is a major third whence the intonation trigonometric retreat is per- formed, while the power of exponentiation would be a trigonometric function of the angles. For the sine function, all intervals in the third and fourth quadrants, below the horizon of the fundamental, have a negative prefix, i.e. have a negative dis- tance in relation to the starting scale position.
168 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis
A glissando could also be formulated with the cosine – sliding from one pitch to another. If its cosine curve falls in the first and then also in the second quadrant, the glissando will fall above and then also below the horizon of the fundamental. If the cosine curve rises in the third and then also in the fourth quadrant, the glissando will rise below and then also above the horizon of the fundamental. We may note that the cosine accommodates all values from two whole steps (a major third) above the starting position in the interval [0, π] for the first two quadrants and likewise all values from two whole steps (a major third) below the starting position in the interval [π, 2π] for the other two quad- rants. We may therefore conclude that the cosine co-domain is the same as it was for the sine function: a major third. The formula for calculating the cosine intonation retreat in a trigonometric unit circle whose co-domain is a major third is the product of the desired fre- quency and the sixth root of 2 (because the octave is divided into six equal parts) raised to the power of the cosine of the chosen interval angle. For instance, for the frequency of c1 (261.63 Hz) the corresponding val- cos0 6 1 ue will be \ 261 .63 × 2 = 293.66 Hz, which equals one distance (d ) from the cos60 1 6 starting frequency c ; or, 261 .63 × 2 = 277.18 Hz, which is 1/2 of the dis- cos75.5225 1 1 6 tance (c-sharp ) from the starting frequency c ; or, 261 .63 × 2 = 269.29 Hz, which equals 1/4 of the distance (c1 + 1/4) from the starting frequency of c1, and so forth. The cosine relations in each quadrant may be verified with the formula for
calculating the cosine intonation retreat. Given that the cosine is negative in the second and third quadrants, we may verify one quarter-distance below the start- ing scale position (for example, c1 − 1/4 for the frequency of c1 = 261.63 Hz), from the second and third quadrant as follows: 6 cos104.4775 6 cos255.5225 261 .63 × 2 = 261.63 × 2 = 254.18 Hz, which is a quar- ter-tone lower (c1 − 1/4) than the pitch height of c1. It is similar with a half-distance (b) from the frequency of c1: 6 cos120 6 cos240 261 .63 × 2 = 261.63 × 2 = 246.94 Hz, which is a semitone lower (b) than the pitch height of c1. We may note that all intervals in the second and third quadrants below the horizon of the fundamental have a negative prefix, i.e. have a negative distance from the starting scale position. Negative intervals are marked only when ana- lysing the trigonometric functions, in order to make clear the negativity of the function.
169 New Sound 51, I /2018
The formula for calculating the tangent intonation retreat in a trigonometric unit circle whose co-domain is a major third is the product of the desired fre- quency and the sixth root of 2 (because the octave is divided into six equal parts) raised to the power of the tangent of the chosen interval angle. For instance, for the frequency of c1 (261.63 Hz) the corresponding value tan 45 6 1 will be 261 .63 × 2 = 293.66 Hz. A frequency of 293.66 Hz is (d ), that is, one distance above the starting frequency of c1. Therefore, we may note that one whole distance (a whole step) below the starting frequency of c1 (261.63 Hz) tan135 will be 6 Hz. A frequency of 233.08 Hz is (b flat), that 261 .63 × 2 = 233.08 is, one distance below the starting frequency of c1. The procedures and formulations described above bring us to the phenom- enon of trigonometric counterpoint, where one and the same frequency (for in- stance, the intonation distance – which is one step) would equal the sine, cosine, and tangent retreat, at different angles, of course. We may observe that for one whole scale degree above the diameter of the fundamental (d1 = 293.66 Hz) the corresponding value is: 6 sin90 6 cos0 6 tan 45 261 .63 × 2 = 261.63 × 2 = 261.63 × 2 = 293.66 Hz. For one whole scale degree below the diameter of the fundamental (b flat = 233.08 Hz) the corresponding value is: 6 sin270 6 cos180 6 tan135 261 .63 × 2 = 261.63 × 2 = 261.63 × 2 = 233.08 Hz. In the construction of a musical trigonometric circle, we observed that the sine and cosine curves were governed by their function co-domain. If the sine and cosine co-domain was [−1, 1], sharpening a scale resolution to one sixth of a scale degree, we concluded that this co-domain equalled a major third, that is, that the entire unit circle belonged to the referential system of the fifth harmonic of the spectrum, because the major third is the referential interval for the referential system of this harmonic. Let us briefly consider a trigonometric circle whose amplitude [−a, a] for the scale sine as well as the cosine graph would equal an octave. If the sine and cosine amplitude equals [−3, 3], sharpening the scale reso- lution to one sixth of a scale degree, we will conclude that it spans an octave, that is, that the entire unit circle belongs to the referential system of the second harmonic of the spectrum. We come to this phenomenon by replacing the expo- nentiation base with the trigonometric intonation retreat. If the base for a trigo- 6 nometric unit circle previously equalled 2, for an amplitude spanning an octave it will now equal 2 . This would be the basis for an octave trigonometric circle.
170 Latinčić, D.: Possible Principles of Mathematical Music Analysis
In general, we may derive an array of trigonometric circles by changing the exponentiation base that serves to expand (amplitude-wise) the interval diameter (or radius). For example, let us take the tangents of 450 and 1350 because their arguments are +1 and −1, which correspond to the values of the radius of a trig- onometric unit circle at the tangent. Thus the diameter of the unit circle (b-flat − d1), that is, its radii are: [0, +1] = (c1, d1) and [0, −1] = (c1, b-flat). See the table.
Table of trigonometric unit circles (the tangent of the first and second quadrants)
Value of the Scalar Formulae for calculating trig- trigonometric diameter and trigonometric onometric intonation retreat retreat point radius of scalar circles points for c1 = 261.63 circle Hz 12 tan 45 277.18 Hz c-sharp1 1/2 step – major- ⋅ 2 261.63 Hz second circle 12 tan135 246.94 Hz b ⋅ 2 6 tan 45 293.66 Hz d1 whole step – major- ⋅ 2 261.63 Hz third unit circle 6 tan135 233.08 Hz b flat ⋅ 2 4 tan 45 311.13 Hz d-sharp1~e-flat1 3/2 step – ⋅ 2 augmented-fourth 261.63 Hz circle 4 tan135 220.00 Hz a ⋅ 2