For a while I’ve enjoyed watching Giles Bowkett progress on Archaeopteryx and his comments on other fusions of music and programming. His latest post about Elysium reminds me distinctly of Neo-Riemannian music theory, pitch spaces, and the Tonnetz.
Interestingly, if you remove register considerations and collapse enharmonic pitch classes, the Tonnetz could be represented in higher dimensions on a sphere.
I’m of the opinion that good music is good music, wherever you find it. It’s hard to put your finger on what makes it good, but I’m convinced it’s the little things. There’s not some magic formula. There’s no overarching structural device that makes one piece of music good or bad (sorry Schenker!).
For me, good music happens when all of the details come together and those details were lovingly crafted by their creator(s) to work in harmony (small H) and achieve the desired effect. Achieving the desired effect also requires a listener who is open. This doesn’t mean that the listener drives out all other distractions and sits ritualistically silent in a concert hall while trained performers convey their interpretation of the music to the listener’s passive ears. This does mean that the listener is empathetic to the music. That is, the confluence of life events, internal and external, has placed the listener into a state where the music will move those gears inside that trigger emotional and intellectual responses.
While I am neither expert on hermeneutics nor subscriber to any Doctrine of Ethos, I know that music has that power to move me. When music is “good” and I am empathetic, I am moved.
Last night, I experienced this concordance of music and empathy. Yesterday had been a stressful and emotional day for me, in fact, as I write this I am still feeling its effects. To help relieve some of that stress, I sat down in the armchair while Elizabeth went to get take-out for dinner. I started watching Star Trek: Voyager, which we get regularly through Netflix and have been watching since early spring. We had already watched all of the episodes on this disc, but I wanted to see some of them again. One of the episodes I chose to watch was called “11:59”, which aired in Season 5 of the series.
The episode depicts an ancestor of Captain Janeway who was influential to her decision to explore space. The character, Shannon O’Donnel (also played by Kate Mulgrew), is first shown driving through a cold, snowy, Indiana around the turn of the millenium. She’s down on her luck, out of money, and desperately determined to get to her cousin in Florida when her car breaks down in the middle of a small rural town. When they first introduce Shannon O’Donnel, you hear the theme of the episode. Unfortunately, most of the score of an episode of any Star Trek series is pretty bland mood stuff, with a little mickey-mousing. However, in this case, the composer seemed to identify with the story and thus crafted his music with care, enhancing the visual mood and action.
The theme began with a simple clarinet duet in a middle treble register, followed by the construction of a cluster via a simple major scale in the strings, also in the treble. When the cluster was completed and sustained, the major harmony was reinforced through an open fifth in the low strings and brass.
Brass is typically used in space epics to convey the grandiosity of space and the daringness of the explorers, and Star Trek is no exception. Brass has many connotations including fate, destiny, heroism, and power that come from long-standing cultural traditions. Think of the “trumpet sounding the Second Coming” (Tuba mirum…) or royal fanfares, and you’ll see what I mean.
I immediately thought, “what a beautiful theme!”. I felt directly the mixed emotions of the character – sorrow, expectation, the urgency of desperation – and some of the other aspects of the story, including the coldness of the weather (enhanced by the woodwinds) and the deep gravity of her later accomplishments (the low chord in the brass and strings).
The interesting part about the experience is that on a previous viewing, I had been relatively unmoved by the score. The confluence of my emotional openness and the careful crafting of the score resulted in my emotional response, primarily identification with the main character. Good music doesn’t only belong in a concert hall or in the earbuds of your iPod. It can happen anywhere, anytime, if you are ready for it.
I demonstrated aptitude and interest in music at an early age. At age 5, my parents bought me a tiny electronic keyboard which I would play with constantly, plucking out tunes I heard in church or at school or on the radio. Since the beginning, my talent has been dictation (the memorizing or transcribing of pitch/rhythm patterns), although I did not learn to write notes on paper until much later. My ability to recognize and reproduce patterns accurately has assisted me in the areas of language, mathematics, and computer science.
I did not begin any formal music training until age 10 when my parents enrolled me in piano lessons. I had just reached the skill level of beginning classical pieces (Clementi sonatinas) when I quit taking lessons. Unfortunately, my busy schedule and occasionally surly attitude as a teenager was not conducive to practicing and taking lessons. I did not return to the piano until I was 18, toward the end of my senior year of high school.
My interest in music grew as I entered college. I was lucky to be acquainted with students who had similar parallel interests (music and computer science), many of whom are still great friends. It was these students who urged me to return to piano lessons. I thus resumed lessons my sophomore year in college, with Anna Norberg, who has been a wonderful mentor, inspiration, and encouragement to me. If it were not for her (and Phi Mu Alpha), I would not have made music such an important part of my life. As results of her encouragement, I decided to stay an extra year to get a BA in music, I began composing, I performed in ensembles, I gave a piano recital and auditioned for the Concerto/Aria competition, and I met the love of my life Elizabeth. Her encouragement and the encouragement of other professors also spurred me to get a Master’s degree in music.
Following my undergraduate degree, I began studying in the graduate program in music theory at UMKC with Shirley Bean, Reynold Simpson, and Hali Fieldman. In addition to academic music studies, I also took piano lessons for 4 semesters with Nick Phillips, both through the college and in private. I am still in the process of completing my final degree requirement, the thesis.
In addition to my studies, I directed the Choir at Our Lady of Perpetual Help ‘Redemptorist’ Catholic Church for three and one-half years (Feb 2002-July 2006). This was an invaluable experience for me as I came away with a solid knowledge of choral conducting, rehearsal techniques, and a basic understanding of vocal pedagogy and proper vocal technique. My sense of pitch and intonation was also further honed as I stretched my ears to listen for mistakes among a group of 15-30 voices. Ironically, I chose to resign a few months after the choir put on an hour-long concert with strings and professional soloists.