The Hound Of Ulster

Things are still super-busy.  KIDS got back yesterday, and things will really get ROLLING next week.

But that’s not really what made me post again.  (In fact, that’s what’s keeping me from posting, mostly.)

THIS is why I had to fire up the ol’ blog.com blog.

Great, great stuff.  Takes a bit to get going, but it’s really fun.  Scott Tennant, in particular, is a blast to watch.  Love the bluegrass stuff, in particular.  Sort of a classical-guitar-playing-fiend version of Father Miquel.  It’s one thing to hear a guy play that well on a banjo.  But on a guitar?  Crazy.

Who said classical music was boring?

(Kanengiser even has his own YouTube FEED.  And the group’s website is HERE.)

Jerry Goldsmith

On the way to work a couple months ago, I was looking for something to play on my newly installed CD player. After searching through my binder for a bit, I pulled out my wife’s Ultimate Star Trek Soundtrack CD.

No, it’s not mine; it’s definitely my wife’s. She’s quite the Trekkie, actually. A little known fact during her college years, but one that I have been able to verify over time. I can safely say that I’ve seen more William Shatner with her than I would ever have watched on my own. The marriage flourishes, possibly because of my willingness to tolerate this particular obsession. Or because of her willingness to tolerate me and my countless other obsessions. One or the other. But I digress.

There are 12 tracks on the CD, covering nearly the entire Trekie spectrum. But what struck me immediately was how much better Jerry’s Goldsmith’s works are than any other composer’s contributions to the collection. The disparity is really quite astounding, but as I thought back over his compositional life, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

The man was an absolute master. He wrote over 320 film and TV scores, and created what I consider to be a top tier score in nearly a dozen genres. In fact, his scores were very often the best part of the films he chose. (OK, so maybe he wasn’t a great judge of projects, but he sure could compose.)

His rich, brass-based style was heavily influenced by classical composers - with particular homage being paid to Copland’s thematic moods and Holst’s orchestration. Time and again I find myself thinking of The Planets or Our Town. And I’m sure that was no accident on Goldsmith’s part. Holst’s Planets is the finest piece of science-fiction music ever not written for a sci-fi film. And as for Copland, no one sounds more “American.”

A quick journey through Goldsmith’s illustrious career, with brief stop-offs in several of the genres, reminds me of just how truly lyrical/martial/memorable his music could be.

War Films – Patton

The definitive WWII soundtrack. Better than The Great Escape, better than Bridge on the River Kwai, and better than anything else one could bring up. Profoundly iconic, and profoundly American, as well. Goldsmith’s signature brass is on display, and he creates a tremendous drive and energy throughout the film. Only Scott’s brilliant performance could overshadow such a score.  (Oh, and Father Barry.  Can’t forget him.)

Neo-Noir – Chinatown

I’m a bit uncomfortable calling this a film genre, partially because I’m not sure what “neo” means here, and partially because I’m still not sure what “noir” means either. But setting that issue aside, Goldsmith’s bluesy score captures the gritty, sordid mood of the film perfectly; it is seemingly tranquil on the surface, but vaguely unsettling beneath. And his work with Noah Cross is truly terrifying.  (Appropriate, since Noah Cross himself is truly terrifying.)

Sci-Fi – Star Trek: First Contact

Trying to pick a favorte Goldsmith Star Trek score is a bit like trying to determine which of your kids you like the best.  You can’t do it.  And even if you could make a choice, you shouldn’t.  (But I’m constantly doing things I shouldn’t.)  So, I picked one.  And the reason I picked this one was for an absolutely un-Trek-sounding track: the film’s title track itself.  His First Contact motif is a brilliant and moving bit of work.  Can’t remember the film much, other than the fact that Cromwell was in it.  But the theme, I definitely remember.

Animation – The Secret of N.I.M.H.

Though this was far from Goldsmith’s only foray into the animated genre, it was probably his finest. The genre allowed him to paint with a “more refined” palette, and he rose to the occasion. Not quite as filled with memorable themes as his live-action work, and there is a distracting vocal segment. But his ability to put the compositional art at the service of a film and its themes is unsurpassed, and his work here really shows off that ability.

Horror Films – Alien

Most people might have been inclined to list this under Sci-Fi. Except Scott’s film is first and foremost a horror film. The fact that it involves space is not incidental. But neither is that what the movie is truly about. The music plays second fiddle to the stifling atmosphere of the film, but barely. Terrifyingly successful music here, filled with wonderfully suggestive acoustic tricks that might well be more sound-effect that score.

Action – Air Force One

Again, Goldsmith brings his more military-sounding themes into play. The brass section dominates this score more than any of his other works, and provides the perfect back-drop to the film’s patriotic mood. The sequence where we see Air Force One for the first time – Welcome Aboard, Mr. President – and hear the theme in its full glory still causes goose bumps. Which is more than I can say for the film.

TV Themes – The Twilight Zone, Star Trek: Voyager

The Twilight Zone theme might be the most famous, most instantly recognizable piece of film-related music ever written. Can anyone here those opening chords without thinking of Rod Serling’s voice-over? I doubt it.  And then there’s the Voyager theme: nowhere near as recognizable, but it is one of those rare TV themes that not only perfectly captures the intended mood of the show, but succeeds in being down-right beautiful in the process.  (And yes, I know.  I cheated by picking two.)

Sidney Pottier Films – Lilies of the Field

Very similar to Goldsmith’s work on another Pottier film, Patch of Blue. This score convinces me that harmonicas need to be used a lot more in film music. You can’t possibly go wrong with a harmonica. The folksy sound doesn’t show up all that much in the later Goldsmith, but it is pitch-perfect here. And “Amen” is a show-stopper – really wonderful to hear an entire score built around that one theme.

Sports Films – Hoosiers

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a score that sounds quite so much like “Electronic Copland.” I know those two sound like complete contradictions, but it’s exactly what Goldsmith created for this film. The fact that much of the film – like any sports film – is told in montage form probably lends itself to this kind of sound. Lots of pep and lots of drive for the sports segments, and lots of “cheese” for the human interest sections. And I mean that to be a compliment.  (BONUS)

Subversive Kids Films – Small Soldiers

OK, maybe there isn’t really a genre like that. Or at least there shouldn’t be. But I’ve always found Dante’s films to be a bit creepy at best. And possibly down-right troubling. The same cannot be said for the score, however. Goldsmith has a wonderful time combining the “smallness” of the story’s scope with his more militaristic tendencies, including a wonderful segment where his spoofs his own work from Patton. The result is a tremendous amount of fun. (Far more fun than the film, in fact.)

Indeterminate – The Ghost and the Darkness

My favorite Goldsmith score. I don’t know what genre this would be, though it’s probably equal parts horror, thriller, and action. But the score has no trouble staking out its territory: pure genius. The main theme is wonderful, with a hint of his old military music. And he makes fine use of African-sounding vocals here, as well. The brass play the role of “human voice” in most of his music, but this score makes clear that it was by choice, not by necessity.

Well, honor might be a strange word there. Let’s start over..

In recognition of the day, I offer THIS. I’m not a big fan of the images, but the music is one of the most extraordinary (and extraordinarily beautiful) PIECES ever written. (Rocco’s post contains a bit more “deep background” on the piece itself, and HERE’S a bit on Gregorio Allegri himself.)

THIS made me laugh. A lot.

It requires a bit of a musical oddity to appreciate, because the listener needs to be pretty familiar with both Baroque and pop music. And those kinds of folks don’t always run together. (In fact, they very often refuse to run together. My dad, for example. Appreciated the humor, but there’s no way the finale was as “deeply meaningful” to him as it was to me. Not sure exactly what that says about him, though. Or me, for that matter.)

But for those that are in both camps, enjoy.

(To be fair to ol’ Johann, I think Rob Paravonian is criticising pop music more than Pachelbel. Basing a piece exclusively on the circle of fifths was semi-unusual for that time. Basing a piece on anything except the circle of fifths is unheard of now. Plus, there’s no way Rob did not know P’s first name. No way.  But it was funny.)

I love it when my worlds collide - which is exactly what’s going on HERE:

The former frontman of the Police has been a fan of the Elizabethan composer John Dowland since the early 1980s. When he was given a lute two years ago, his interest was rekindled and he began to learn Dowland’s music. What started out as a private project has turned into an album to be released in October.

I’ve always been a big Sting fan. It’s not because I’m a big fan of Sumner’s musical style, which has a tendency to reflect his blues/jazz roots a bit too much for my tastes - (too often too bland and too unfocused.) And it certainly has nothing to do with his political/moral persuasions, which are quite a bit further to the West than my own.

But the man is a true poet, and those are rare.

Under the ruins of a walled city

Crumbling towers in beams of yellow light

No flags of truce, no cries of pity

The siege guns had been pounding all through the night

It took a day to build the city

We walked through its streets in the afternoon

As I returned across the fields I’d known

I recognized the walls that I once laid

I had to stop in my tracks for fear

Of walking on the mines I’d laid

Not sure about this, though:

For me they are pop songs written around 1600 and I relate to them in that way; beautiful melodies, fantastic lyrics and great accompaniments.

Hm. Not exactly sure what to think about that. Still, any time I see the names Sting and Deutsche Grammophon together on the same CD, I’m happy. Check out the SAMPLES. His vocals are odd. But that’s always been true, so it comes as no surprise to me. I guess I was expecting it.

I like IT.

(HT: AMY)

We’ve reached that part of Lent again. The pert where I can give myself permission to listen to Bach’s greatest masterpiece: St. Matthew Passion. My dad and I are hoping to get through some of it tonight. With the libreto, if possible. Bach does a wonderful job of matching the music and mood to the words. (I would advise this recording, if possible. Otto Klemperer did a verstion with the same cast of singers, but it takes about twice as long. Terrible tempo selection.  And you can’t miss with the Berliner Philharmoniker)

OK, this is just strange. I love guys that make those big, hufe LEGO devices. But a harpsichord? Who came up with that idea? THIS actually has an audio sample. Sounds terrible, but who’s being picky? It actually works! (That site has a ton of other strange instruments. Very bizarre.)

I love the Internet. THIS might be the greatest thing I have ever come across. Right up there with the Waste Land website. I can’t say more than that. You just need to listen for yourself.

Somewhere in the early to mid-twentieth century, “Classical Music” as an art form got itself badly off-track. This shouldn’t really come as a shock, I guess; the twentieth century was singularly unfriendly to many different kinds of art. Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say that the twentieth century notion of art was unfriendly to its audience. The idea of the “artist’s obligation to his audience,” of the paramount importance of the artistic “process,” and of the focus on the artist rather than his artifact all serve to create an environment contrary to the view that art as an imitation of the beautiful.

Modern artists seek to make themselves and their actions less intellectual; in fact, the idea that the artist might have a “reason” for doing something rather than an “intuition” is enough to render that artist anathema in certain circles. The result of this shift is an art that requires a society required to abstract far beyond previous generations: a society that is the exact opposite of what the artists themselves are trying to do. Peculiar, isn’t it?

I digress. I was talking about music, if I remember correctly. In my opinion, music (like all art) is primarily an emotional medium. I do not mean there is no place for logic or intellectualism in music; far from it. I couldn’t love Bach with such a passion without allowing for the highly rational nature of music. The “extravagant control” of the Baroque - my favorite musical period - is largely an intellectual consideration. Still, a piece works first and foremost by conveying an emotion; hence, my use of the word primary.

Composers like Schonberg, Shostakovich and Stravinsky, depressed by their perceived inability to convey any “significantly new” emotions, gradually pulled away from this notion of music. They sought a music that, do to its reliance on abstraction and intellectualism, could not help but appeal to a smaller audience. And so, modern classical music became an elitist taste; your “average Joe” simply cannot listen to someone like The Three S’s with any real pleasure. A person who studies closely what they are doing may be able to appreciate them a bit, but they will never love them.

The result of this musical movement is the profound polarization of musical customs in modern society. Pop music, which appeals nearly exclusively to the emotions, has become the music of the majority. And classical music has become the music of the impossibly few. But this is a dangerous situation. Listening nearly exclusively to pop music is the dietary equivalent of subsisting entirely on candy bars; it is an unhealthy reliance on a small group of emotions. The balanced diet should consist of at least some classical music. This would expose the listener to a far larger, far subtler range of emotions.

But I cannot criticize modern society for turning its back on classical music. They are only responding in kind; classical composers knowingly rejected a mainstream audience years ago. The fact remains that nearly all recent classical compositions are simply ugly. They do not appeal to a larger public in any way. Film scores, with their necessity to convey emotions and reach their audiences, have become the last remaining bastion of melodic orchestral pieces.

Or maybe I should say nearly last. For there is one modern composer who still understands that music must not be only intellectual, or even primarily intellectual. Morten Lauridsen, a choral composer from Colfax, Washington, writes beautiful music. Can it be intellectually examined? Surely. Does he, like his counterparts, rely on dissonance? Definitely. But his music is beautiful, pure and simple; and that is an attribute for which there is no substitute.

O Magnum Mysterium, probably his most famous work, is an a capella piece based on the responsory for the Office of Matins on Christmas Day. In his notes, Lauridsen writes that “for centuries, composers have been inspired by the beautiful text, with its juxtaposition of the birth of the newborn King amongst the lowly animals and shepherds,” and this piece is certainly no exception. He was clearly inspired by the words, and the result is a work of quiet exuberance. (I know that sounds like a contradiction, but it’s the perfect description.)

Lux Aeterna, written shortly after the death of his mother, is a five-movement composition for orchestra and chorus. Here, Lauridsen reveals himself as a master of orchestration as well as a composer for the human voice. The work, built around five Latin texts that all make reference to light, is a partial Requiem. The powerful finale, the Agnus Dei, is a passionate affirmation of the Resurrection. It is impossible to hear without being moved.

I hope that Morten Lauridsen will serve as a beacon to younger composers who recognize that there is something missing in modern music. I hope that he will continue to write music rooted in both the spiritual and tonal traditions. And I sincerely hope he will reach many more listeners. For what better way is there to convince our society of the value of classical music than to expose them to its amazing power? And who better to serve as this bridge between the new and the old than Lauridsen, a “new school” composer who truly understands what it is that makes the “old school” composers great?