The Fredösphere

I'm probably the only right-winger in the country who watched this video and was primarily frightened by the bad counterpoint:

Labels: Counterpoint, Culture

The Catholic Church:  they've made some ... changes.  (Tip o' the red hat to the Sci-Fi Catholic.)

Meanwhile...

I'm going to get all Alexy Rossy on you and muse for a bit about the health of orchestras in the heartland.  We spent the weekend with some friends in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and on their advice attended the "Picnic Pops" concert of that city's Symphony.  This is not the kind of event I would choose on my own, and I admit the first half disappointed.  Grofé, Gottschalk:  the programming choices were neither canonical nor bold, but they did fit the New Orleans theme, necessitated by the guest appearance of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band.

PHJB isn't really my thing either, but they were at least compelling.  This concert gave me a chance to think hard about something I've been wondering about:  is Dixieland Jazz the only example of a truly popular countrapuntal style?  Where else do casual listeners tolerate so much independence of voices?  Is there a secret we lovers of counterpoint ought to learn and exploit?  These are not a rhetorical questions; if you have insight, please leave a comment.

The outdoor ambiance (on a ski slope) facilitated dancing, which really made the evening for my daughter and me.  Generally speaking, the best parts of the experience (landscape, picnic atmosphere, alcohol for those imbibing it, guest artists playing jazz at a very high level, kinesthetic interaction) had nothing to do with this idea that paying 100 instrumentalists to play together all at the same time is the right thing to do.  Still, the concerts are genuinely popular, and Grand Rapids has the corporations (Chase Bank) and the aristocracy (the De Vos family) to keep it funded, so bully to them.  I'll have to attend one of their regular concerts and report back.  (Hint to the GRS bosses:  Sibelius might lie at the exact center of the intersection of my and the popular tastes.)

One final bit of weirdness:  ever since reading the excellent Benjamin Britten biography written by Humphrey Carpenter, I can't help associating BB with Grand Rapids, since that city was, implausibly, bizarrely, the scene of ... well, apparently we don't know exactly what, but it was where ... oh, go read the book.  Still, the idea that this very conservative, very Dutch (Corrie ten Boom Dutch, not modern-day Amsterdam Dutch) town was destined to become a landmark in Britten's personal oddysey is something I couldn't quite put out of my mind as violinists sawed away, patrons sipped wine from plastic cups, the sun set, and my kids frolicked on a swing set off in the distance.

Labels: Counterpoint, Culture, local

The rules of modern American politics require a person like John McCain occasionally to humiliate himself ritualistically.  What's these kids' excuse?

Mixolydian Mode has moved -- don't get left behind.

Here's a story on the Aristides Atelier, where painting is taught the old-fashioned way.  (You come in here with palettes full of mush...!)  Disturbingly, recent experience has caused me to question the emphasis on craft.  Just as everyone else is loosing faith in self-expression, I'm reminded that some people got it and some don't.  (More on that topic when I've processed it fully.)  Anyway, this talk of old-fashioned pedagogy reminds me of stories of the bad old days at U-M:  student composers presented scores to their teachers on vellum. Here at the Fredölogical Institute -- the only place in the world a student can get full, rigorous training in nested counterpoint -- I require my students to submit their counterpoint lessons carved in Italian marble.  Which means the kids learn to think really, really hard before committing themselves to each note.

Labels: Counterpoint, Creativity, VideoClip

This may not be the first time I've linked to the four singing horses (hat tip to A Cappella News) but it's a classic, so why not.  Also, I just noticed something:  when you turn on each horse's voice, it doesn't begin singing in the middle of its loop, as I expected.  This would be necessary if the four voices were kept in strict temporal relationships with each other.  No, when you turn on a voice, you're deciding exactly when it starts its part.  You become a composer, creating one of an infinite set of contrapuntal possibilities.

Okay, so I admit the description makes it seem more profound than it feels once you go there and try it.  Still, the concept startled me, and got me thinking.  This flexibility explains why the voice parts are so crabbed; five-part fully invertible counterpoint is child's play compared to writing four parts that must work at least kinda okay together with any possible temporal relationship. 

Here are more thoughts ... Could an example of standard-practice counterpoint exist within this framework?  Surely no, not a non-degenerate case.  Do examples of this approach exist in the wild?  Very likely, but the examples I know of that give this kind of freedom to the performer allow for freedom of tempo; they even tend to assume rubato.  Finally -- and be honest -- is the title of this post the most mind-bendingly brilliant pun you've read all day, or what?  Yes.

Labels: Counterpoint, vocal