How else do you record a Harmonica?

How else do you record a Harmonica?

Tuesday 4 November 2014

Bach Chello Suite No.1 Prelude: Structure and anti-structure.


This study piece has taken me a few years to get down; I have the feeling that it still has a few more years to go. I started reading this solo in order to practice reading the bass clef. However, what struck me as the most problematic feature of the piece, though not particular to it, is the issue of timing. When I first tried to record it a year or so ago, whether I played strictly to the metronome or played a free ‘interpretation’, the piece never sounded ‘right’. It is an uneasy feeling I get with certain passages of classical music: where the time is neither exact, nor is the playing without exact time. As such I have presented a contrast between a version played in free time, another played to a metronome (at 90bpm [beats per minute]), and finally one with a very basic accompaniment to the last four bars (at 80bpm).

I cannot give the piece any definition or situate it beyond this. Though the ‘event’ of the recording, and interpretations of it, will forever be critiqued, the event itself still has to take place and the music ‘brought into being’ for it to be so (although, there is, of course, the possibility for endless interpretations of it). According to the sheet music the piece is to be played at 100 bpm. While I can play it at that speed, it sounds awful; too fast, and forced. Most recordings by cellists play the piece freely, and several interpretations make drastic changes in tempo. Yet even where there is a lack of strict tempo there is still a relative value, the notes stand in negative relation to each other (what is not played), and to silence. At best I feel that in the different recordings I have posited it between structure and lack thereof.

            It is quite a segue but, nonetheless, this disparity in structure evoked some wider thoughts and intrigues on musical approaches across the globe. Namely that:

One of the characteristic features of classical western music is its rigidity. Scales and arpeggios ascend fully, then descend. Pitch is fixed to absolute degrees (usually relative to ‘standard’ pitch at 440A) and each pitch has a relational value to others in the system of an instrument, orchestra, or within a score.  Timing is also fixed unless stated otherwise (Ritardando/Accelerando/Free time), and, even then, divergence must be explicitly stated. I am reminded of Michel Foucault’s ideas of ‘taxonomy’. In turn, this taxonomy of music has a history of development. In earlier periods an exact measure (of bpm) could not be given, just a feeling (Grave-very slow, Andante -walking pace, Vivace- fast and lively, Presto-extremely fast, etc.) , though, once started, the pace would have to be consistent. Scales (Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian etc.), have been developed since the ancient Greeks and with the ancient Greeks in mind. By the nineteenth century a whole terminology had been developed, and is still dominantly used, to structure and outline works today in the aim of true representation. The rules are known and if someone breaks them, they do so knowing they are doing so, and then become known for doing so. And if they do not realize they are breaking the rules, one can argue that they are the product of society or a wider cultural consciousness/development. This latter view was championed by Theodor Adorno. Yet for all of Adorno’s snobbish insistence on music as structure that generated specific meanings and fixed interpretative responses, he was still thrown by Schoenberg, and outraged by popular music from the late 1930s until his death in 1969, albeit outraged from his declared ‘Marxist’ standpoint.

By contrast, eastern traditional music demonstrates more freedom in variation of pitch and time. Though I confess I know less than I would like to on the subject, I am always intrigued by the rejection of these stabilisations. I recall coming across a book on Indian sitar music in the British Library and being fascinated both by the wave like fluency of the scale patterns used to practice the instrument, and the author’s difficulty in converting the style onto western manuscript; they had to use an absurd amount of flats, sharps, and double flats and sharps in an attempt to correlate the divergence in pitch, and irregular timings to accommodate the rhythms.

The two represent extremes of interpretation that I enjoy debating: Impose structure and meaning that is not intrinsic to ‘it’, take that structure away and see its meaning as multidimensional, contingent, and chaotic. These positions themselves can be further critiqued, as can the flaws and generalisations in my entire rambling (an obvious and good starting point would be my dichotomy between east and west [occident and orient], or that I have not discussed Bach’s own theory of tempo, but I digress).


Oh, but finally:

There is also a resemblance to the two scale approaches that I feel are the basis to learning any melodic instrument (instrument specific techniques aside). If one learns the major scale structures in all 12 keys off by heart to provide frameworks and, in contrast, the chromatic scale, with a suitable amount of theory, listening, and practice, a select combination of the two then create blues or jazz, or allow the player to adapt to any other style.

All that and I have not got onto the appropriation of classical music by non-traditional instruments, the phenomenology of the ‘moment’, or the pressures effecting my ‘performance’ (For example could you tell I was looking at photographs of my grandparents and remembering happy memories of them when I played the piece in free time? Do such things even matter?).
*
I have, of course, adapted the piece (included in a link) for the guitar. I never liked the fingerpicking approach to the piece, of which other guitar players prefer and have made recordings of elsewhere. These ‘fingerpickers’ also play an octave higher. Nonetheless the pick sound does come across on the recording more than is to my liking, as does the sound of my fingers sliding across the frets. This was distressing until I noticed the same in Keith Richard’s interpretation of a Robert Johnson piece. Now I see it as a natural atmospheric flourish.


(Thinkers passed over above: Ferdinand de Saussure, Roland Barthes, Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida; Theodor Adorno.)



https://soundcloud.com/samsmusicandmusings/sets/bach-cello-suite-no1-prelude

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