Rethinking Music Theory, With Syrian Aid

initially published on Musicology Now: http://musicologynow.ams-net.org/2017/03/

There was a standing ovation when Kofi Agawu finished his keynote address at the 2015 meeting of the Society for Music Theory, “Rethinking Music Theory, With African Aid.” The premise of the speech was that music theory could do worse than to rethink its fundamental precepts from the outside, by using African musics as a reference point to think about tonality, rhythm, timbre and myriad other theoretical areas. While this was a move in the right direction, I remember wondering whether the audience was applauding because they were thoroughly convinced by the speech, because this was a long-awaited call for music theory to expand its horizon, because Agawu’s speech ignited a strong moral feeling of rightness grounded in liberalism—or whether because it was Agawu who gave the speech. Could an unknown scholar based in the non-West have been asked to give the keynote, and would she have received a standing ovation?

Two decades after New Musicology emerged, the slew of agendas ranging from postcolonial and critical race studies to gender and sexuality that it ushered in has had a mixed impact. We might attribute music theory’s turn to non-Western music, not least in Agawu’s keynote speech, to the impact of New Musicology, which, in heralding the deployment of literary theory, led to the rise of orientalist studies, with Jonathan Bellman’s 1998 edited volume The Exotic in Western Musicbeing an early focal point. Since then, there has been a push to reach beyond Western music to address the music and discourse of actual others, and the recent establishment of the Analytical Approaches to World Music (AAWM) interest group of SMT marks a decisive turning point. 

Has music theory become more socially liberal (in the American sense) than musicology? AMS, the spiritual home of New Musicology, is not without members who work on music from other parts of the world, and we have seen some promising developments in terms of lessening the divide between hoary binaries such as West and non-West, in part by adopting concepts such as postcolonialism, cultural transfer, cosmopolitanism, and globalization. Yet the divisions run deep across academic institutions, journals, and university departments. Given that AMS does not yet have such as a group as “Musicological Approaches to World Music” (not that ethnomusicologists would approve, in all likelihood), it would seem that AAWM in its embrace of music around the globe represents a wing of SMT that is more progressive than its sister society. Yet on other items in the agenda of the 90s, music theory has proved to be far more resistant. I’m constantly reminded that whereas Queer Musicology is now a thing, queer issues in music theory circles are regularly consigned precisely to musicology, leaving music theory untouched—and believe me, I have heard that argument many many times as chair of the SMT Queer Resource Group.

This is not the place for an extended philosophical discussion on the convoluted relation between musicology and music theory, but I shall offer two commonly circulated logics, without intending them as anything near a comprehensive analysis of that relation. 

1) “I’m not racist because I have black friends!” On 2 Feb 2017, both the American Musicological Society and the Society for Ethnomusicology released statements opposing the ban on travel to the United States imposed on citizens of 7 countries in the Middle East. “We the Board of Directors of the American Musicological Society urgently request that the Trump administration withdraw its Executive Order of 27 January 2017…” “The Board of the Society for Ethnomusicology joins other constituents of the American Council of Learned Societies in calling for the immediate retraction of the U.S. Executive Order of January 27, 2017…” SMT, in contrast, released a statement of “values” on Feb 3: “The Executive Board of the Society for Music Theory reaffirms the society’s values of inclusivity and diversity, open and respectful dialogue, academic freedom, and scholarly integrity.” SMT Executive Board’s statement, coming hot on the heels of statements from its sister societies, is clearly inspired by the same Executive Order, yet board members seem to feel that it was necessary to main plausible deniability. If SMT were a person, we could imagine it saying, “I’m not racist because I’m friends with African music!” Just as it is in a sense easier to just analyze world music rather than to do the work of understanding cultural others, it is easier to analyze world music than to make a stand for people of the world. Could it be that music theory has arrived at a formalistic response to New Musicology’s liberal agenda—by focusing on the musical form rather than cultural content of others? Perhaps if queer were a country, queer music theory would be a thing by now.

2) “‘Where are you from?’ is a racist question.” What if in an alternate universe, Agawu’s SMT keynote address is to be given instead by a noted music theorist of Syrian birth, who in addition to having authored key texts in North American music theory, is also a noted scholar of Syrian music, and is now banned from traveling to the US to give a keynote address at an SMT conference? The fact that this scenario has to be set in an alternate universe is telling, highlighting the near-total invisibility of Middle Eastern music theorists, and of scholarship on Middle Eastern music within both SMT and AMS. It used to be the case that “Where are you from?” was understood within the context of privilege, where an American-born Syrian, for instance, might resist the implication of radical otherness in that question. For those of us trying to gain entry to the US under a Trump administration, however, “Where are you from?” is no longer a discursive act but carries the full police force of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, witnessed horrifically recently.

Might music theorists wish to focus more attention on political readings that arise out of music theory, as well as politics per se, as we move forward under a Trump administration which has promised itself to be the negation of the spirit of a whole host of SMT standing committees and interest groups: Committee on Diversity, Committee on the Status of Women, Music and Disability Interest Group, Queer Resource Group, Scholars for Social Responsibility, just to name the more obvious ones? 

Recordings

1. For works by Han Lankui, Zhang Shuai and He Zhanhao/Lin Jiliang, copy and paste the following Chinese words into the search box in the video website youku.com. Click on the first search result.

Han Lankui, Qilian Rhapsody (1995): 韩兰魁《祁连狂想》
Zhang Shuai, Three Preludes for piano Op. 18 (1998): 张帅《三首前奏曲》
He Zhanhao, Remaining Regrets Upon Death at Lin'an (1992): 何占豪《临安遗恨》

2. For works by Joyce Koh and John Sharpley, visit soundcloud.com:

John Sharpley, Emptiness (2002), movement 5
John Sharpley, Emptiness (2002), movement 11
Joyce Koh, TAI (1998/2002)

Envoicing Singaporean Music

My route to contemporary Singaporean new music (written by composers who have been trained in doctoral programs in the West; hereafter, "Singaporean music") began after I completed my Masters at Oxford and returned to enlist in National Service at the Singapore Armed Forces' Music and Drama Company as a clerk, during which time my brain had to grasp hold onto something. New music, which I had rarely encountered through my entire college education, seemed like fertile new ground. My interest in new music was subsequently narrowed into contemporary Singaporean composers while I was a teacher-in-training at the National Institute of Education, in large part because of the existence there of the Singaporean music archive set up by Eddy Chong. This research was given extra impetus with a research grant from the National Arts Council in 2007, which culminated in the release of the research report Scions of the Musical West: Singapore at Cultural Crossroads in 2009, just weeks before I left for the US to pursue my doctorate in musicology at Duke University. (Incidentally, the National Library Board initially listed my report as "...Singapore at Cultural Crosswords"--a fitting title for a volume about cultural puzzles!) 

In my dissertation, I focused on three works, one each by Robert Casteels (L’autre fille aux cheveux de Bali, 2002), Joyce Koh (TAI, 1998/2002), and John Sharpley (Kong, 2002). (The selection of these works—the fact that I selected these works— present a whole new set of issues, to be addressed elsewhere.) Such is the nature of academia that I have found myself staring at a narrower and narrower point where detailed discussion of specific works intersected with engagement with postcolonial, feminist, and affect theory. My success in this accelerating zooming-in has made me equal to the academic milieu of journal publication (forthcoming in Journal of the Royal Musical Association) and conference presentation (American Musicological Society, Society for Music Theory, Society for Ethnomusicology).

Now comes the exciting prospect of bringing Singaporean music to an international audience in the US and UK, but also the conundrum of accessibility. Conference audiences and journal readers expect to have access to the music which I discuss; this is entirely reasonable—why would anyone slog through a 30-min conference session or an entire 15,000-20,000 word article if the music in question is not even easily available commercially through major music labels and publishers? Now, I have to insert the caveat that the dissemination of Singaporean music is growing (though not at a pace I would like). Nevertheless, I think it is reasonable to argue, from a purely pragmatic point of view, that the problematic of relative inaccessibility takes the form of a vicious cycle: since the music is relatively inaccessible (you often can’t access it at the click of a button), my conference attendees and would-be journal readers are relatively reluctant to pay attention to it, which reinforces the relative inaccessibility of this music (record labels and music publishers are less likely to pick it up because the audience is small and not growing much). Compounding the pragmatic aspect of accessibility is the more complicated issue of aesthetic validation by new music networks globally, comprising composers in and outside of university music faculties, music historians and theorists, graduate programs, publishers, record labels, music critics, and audiences.

My research output at conferences and especially in journals brings Singaporean music to a wider audience, but if this music is not easily accessible, it is going to be stuck in the vicious cycle of relative invisibility from the admittedly limited point of view of the academic music audience (music historians and theorists). Yet the power of appealing to this group should not be ignored; professors, after all, are the ones who write music history, both in the more general form of music history textbooks, and in the more specialized form of monographs about narrower music topics. Consider a thought experiment where a new textbook on Western music actually mentions Singaporean composers—this textbook would be written by a music historian. (I realize that the definition of Singaporean music as "Western" presents a whole new set of issues, also to be explored elsewhere.)

Music professors are also the people who review journal articles about music to determine whether an article should be published, and the fact that a work discussed in a potential journal article is not readily available is most definitely a negative point in the review process. If the music is not already in the average journal reader's music library, and if the music is written by a brilliant composer whom the reader has nevertheless not heard of because of cultural geopolitics, and if the reader already has a huge Western canon at hand, including contemporary Asian composers such as Chinary Ung and Bright Sheng, what are the overall odds that this reader would consider going online to buy other music off a commercial website, or to listen to the music on the composer's website? And if further, the reader actually has to search for the composer online, and write to the composer personally to request for the music, what are the lesser odds that he would do this? Pondering these questions are key in the process of exploring ways to envoice Singaporean music, an issue of particular salience as research in a broader definition of "Singaporean music" than I have been pursuing intensifies (see Jun Zubillaga-Pow and Chee-Kong Ho eds., Singapore Soundscape: Musical Renaissance of a Global City).

(21 Nov 08) Tang Quartet performs Singaporean New Music @ Republic Polytechnic Cultural Centre

(First published on http://musicians.com.sg. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form without permission in writing from the author.)

Ravel, String Quartet in F

Tan Dun, Eight Colours

Phoon Yew Tien, Scenic Jiangnan

Ho Chee Kong, Echoes of Fall

Goh Toh Chai, Vasantham

Jimi Hendrix, Purple Haze

Tonight’s concert was a mix of pieces ranging from modal Ravel, avant garde Tan Dun, musical arrangements, to a transcription of a rock song by Jimi Hendrix. The opening piece (Ravel) set the bar for ensemble finesse and technical skill, although there were some technical glitches in the second movement when the tempo slowed. It is a pity that Ng Yu-ying (violin 1) still has yet to be presented with the opportunity to play on a superior instrument. His was adequate – a little shrill and tight at times, and one could sense that the artistic ability far exceeded the capability of the instrument. On the issue of the programming, Ravel stuck out like a sore thumb. One could constantly imagine a more colourful orchestral version as the piece is being performed. Ravel is also perhaps a little over-played. For a recital of 20^th century music, some of the early works from the Second Viennese School could have presented interesting perspectives.

Tan Dun’s Eight Colours made use of a large range of extended techniques, expanding the sound palette to include slapping, tapping, irregular vibrato, and glissando, all of which add up to a completely different sound world from the 19^th century. The quartet exhibited the interpretive and technical skills needed to explicate the epigrammatic fragments that comprise the piece.

Ho Chee Kong’s Echoes of Fall incorporated skillful use of the gambus, adding a new dimension to the string quartet. The piece centers on the meditative gambus solos, from which the string texture grows in an organic fashion, underpinned by a modal-flavoured centricity. One of the more striking features was the long gambus solo in the middle of the piece that held everyone spell-bound. This was soulfully performed.

Like Ho’s piece, the rest of the evening was relatively easy from a technical point of view for the performers. Phoon Yew Tien’s and Goh Toh Chai’s arrangements suffered very occasionally from lack of rehearsal time. Jimi Hendrix’s Purple Haze gave the musicians an opportunity to venture out of the refined, balanced and highly crafted world of classical sound, bringing a crude strength to the tone that bulged and slid in a wanton fashion into the world of rock. One could almost smell the Sixties in this unlikely and highly entertaining piece, executed with panache.

(22 Feb 09) Lim Yau conducts Haydn's "The Hunt" & "The Bear" @ The Salon, National Museum of Singapore

(First published on http://musicians.com.sg. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form without permission in writing from the author.)

Phua Ee Kia presenter

The orchestra presented two symphonies from different stages of Haydn’s development as a composer. Symphony No. 73 represents the light musical style of the period after Haydn’s venture into Sturm und Drang (‘Storm and Stress’). Symphony No. 82 clearly was written to capture the attention of the composer’s Parisian audience, replete with dramatic gestures, surprising twists and turns, and greater experimentation with orchestral colours.

The account of the Classical era given by the presenter for this concert had the character of a caricature, and was designed to engage an audience for whom classical music is akin to a foreign language. This was successful to a certain extent, though it was perhaps a little long; more explication of the musical material would have been useful for such an audience. More to the point, the presentation of two entire symphonies in the same characteristic Haydnesque style is not entirely suited to this audience, regardless of the countless distinctions musical connoisseurs can make. Nevertheless, the little quiz tickled the audience with its outlandish multiple choice options. One wonders if Haydn was not quite so proficient on the electric guitar, in response to the question of which instrument Haydn did not manage so well.

As an instance of performance practice (rather than the concert as a whole), the orchestra and the conductor was much more successful. The structure of the music was clearly presented. Important moments were suitably emphasized and one gets a sense of the ebb and flow of energy in the vivacious Allegros. Metrical and musical accentuation was applied in good proportion. Tempo was well judged, though a little flexibility in the inner movements would not have been amiss.

In terms of the choice of venue, chamber groups (such as the downsized TPO formed specially for this concert) tend to be limited in their options. However, a worse choice could not have been made. The Salon is much too small for the 30 or so players. Much of the fine work by the orchestra was undone by the acoustics. Loud forte passages on the violins came across in a shrill manner as, beyond a certain point, the ear cannot comfortably adjust to the higher decibels. As a result, the perceivable dynamics range was much smaller than in reality. Soft piano passages were like desiccated leaves, deprived of the benefits of reverberations. This dryness is due in part to the limited use of vibrato, as is the practice in the eighteenth century; a different venue is clearly needed. The wind instruments’ sound was more palatable, perhaps because they were not disadvantaged by a playing technique not designed for their instruments; these were often too loud in the small room. More disturbing was the constant pounding of the three cellos and two double basses, which in a larger venue would not have had the same effect. The punishing acoustics revealed every instance of splayed microtones which would have been disguised in another venue.

The slower movements of No. 73 were a little dull due to the ‘light’ style Haydn employed; this music was perhaps more suited as the background to conversations. If we were to follow performance practice to the extreme, i.e. in the manner performances were conducted in the eighteenth century, the symphony could have been performed in the middle of the sunlit atrium in the National Museum, while museum goers pass by. It is clear that certain symphonies (‘The Bear’) are intended to capture the attention of audiences more than others. Even into the 1780s, symphonies were intended not to be the main attraction, serving instead as a formal gesture signaling the start of concerts that featured singers and pianists; they were sometimes performed as outdoor serenades. Symphonic movements were often divided and dispersed through the programme, serving to open the concert, and end the first half of the programme or the entire concert. (Neal Zaslaw, Mozart’s Symphonies: Contexts, Performance Practice, and Reception).

Overall, this concert would have been more enjoyable with if more consideration had been given to the ‘extra-musical’ aspects, such as the venue and the programming. Some symphonies can be transferred from the pedestal to other performing spaces, and mixed with other genres or music by different composers. Musical decisions such as the number of lower strings and the use of vibrato on strings can also be profitably reviewed, given the specific acoustics of the venue. Instrumental technique was not generally a problem with the exception of one of the horn players who had permanent difficulties with tone production - and practically crippled the last leg of ‘The Bear’.

(13 Nov 2008) Lan Shui conducts Brahms' Requiem with Singapore Symphony Orchestra @ Esplanade Concert Hall

(First published on http://musicians.com.sg. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form without permission in writing from the author.)

Singapore Symphony Chorus, Singapore Bible College Chorale, and Hallelujah Chorus, with soloists Brigitte Wohlfarth and Garry Magee

The combined choir was excellent tonight, and the choristers did justice to a work in which they were the primary feature. Different sections were homogenous and equally matched. The intonation was mostly in place, with some notable misses from the sopranos, who were also noticeably out of place a few times. When the singers came together, the sound was brilliant and remarkably pure for a choir of this size. There were a few places when the men’s vowels were less than refined, and they were also perhaps a little overly enthusiastic in enunciating consonant endings. (A particularly unsettling moment was one individual’s loud ending on ‘Kraft’, meaning ‘power’, at the end of the sixth movement.) The chorus did admirably well in bringing out the different choral colours of the requiem, although the phrasing suffered under the laborious tempo of the opening movements, especially at the beginning of the movement two.

Brigitte Wohlfarth’s startling vibrato brought new meaning to her opening line ‘And ye now therefore have sorrow’. She belongs to a tradition of sopranos who have now gone out of fashion. In a world dominated by the new school of early music influenced singers, characterized by brighter timbre and restrained, colouristic use of vibrato, the old school needs more than ever to find a way of singing that uses vibrato to enhance the emotive appeal of music. There was some evidence of the latter tonight, especially in the higher tessitura. However, the soprano had little control over the mechanistic pitch fluctuations of her vibrato in her siren-like middle range.

Garry Magee’s crystal baritone was a reservoir which invited one to quench his thirst. Unfortunately, this was not to be. A minor problem was that of high notes, which Magee tossed out but missed. On the issue of interpretation, the singer really needed to follow the text more closely. In movement six, ‘Behold, I shall show you a mystery’ lacked the obvious. (Why did the singer not follow the pianissimo marked in the score?)

The orchestra supported the chorus admirably through most of the work, with the notable exception of the ending of movement six when it crowded out the voices. At some points, the higher strings sounded unsuitably soloistic. More peculiarly, the aggressive sforzando from the double bass at the beginning of movement seven sent a strange message at the start of a movement proclaiming ‘Blessed are the dead’. Neither the pitch, nor the timbre was blessed. Several entries from the trumpet in movements two and three had a similar effect to the double bass entry; one is reminded of the mechanism of the expulsion of wind rather too abruptly.

On a brighter note, the orchestra gave a full blooded, Romantic rendition in movement four with expressive swells (that are somewhat against the grain of modern interpretation). This style was more appropriately used here in relation to the cloying music than in movement two, when the string sequences near the opening was etched out in a gratingly slow tempo that did little to prevent the musical momentum from dissipating. That the maestro has placed his mark on Brahms’ Requiem is beyond question. His attempt to secure originality and meaning, though, is less successful in the opening movements than in the later ones. Still, one has to admire Lan Shui’s spirit. The audience was silently reprimanded when he refused to lower his baton at the end of the work, outraged as he was by one overly enthusiastic audience member who sparked off a brief avalanche of claps - which died off when the audience realized that the music was still reverberating in the air.

(10 Oct 2008) Leonard Slatkin conducts Vaughan Williams and Elgar with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra @ Esplanade Concert Hall

(First published on http://musicians.com.sg. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form without permission in writing from the author.)

The Royal Philharmonic was certainly very good but judging from the audience’s standing ovation (quite, odd, come to think of it – an ovation for an orchestral performance), you would have thought that they were Berlin or Wien. The opening piece, extracted from a film score by William Walton, showed off the melting tones of the strings. Thereafter, Vaughan Williams’ Symphony No.6 struck like a bolt of fury. I have to say that hearing the work was one of the most enjoyable musical experiences I have had in a long time. The orchestra, obviously under expert direction, slashed, burned, laughed hysterically, and left one with a terrible sense of cold beauty at the end. Here we got a glimpse of what the Maestro had been up to in the past few years with the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington D.C. A work in which all the movements were linked, the Symphony reverberated like a live wire through 35 min - and left the audience feeling bemused. I think most of them did not ‘get it’. Nevertheless, time and experience – I am sure – will lead more to appreciate such a fine work, one which is relevant to our political and musical times, being neither too esoteric, nor too cloyingly palatable.

I had to close my eyes as ‘Nimrod’, the world’s favourite English music - one of the movements from the Enigma Variations, was performed. So overwhelmed was I by the descending sevenths in the melody - powerfully expressive, and fleshed out in full glory by the orchestra, which I believe, is in top form. (None of the boo-boos one occasionally observes in London’s top four.) I am grateful that ‘Nimrod’ was not overdone, though I had yearned for more pathos in the opening variation. The principal cellist had a beautiful tone, although her stroke was somewhat wavering. Many brilliant passages by the brasses deserve mention, and the all too often forgotten percussionist did fine work, especially in ‘Nimrod’.

Overall, this evening witnessed fine musicianship and some great moments. The outer works were enough to melt a hardened cynic, whilst Vaughan Williams brought a different, more contemporary dimension of reality to the evening. This is a programme which is hard to beat. We had the opportunity to see London’s step-child of an orchestra at work (the only one of the top four not linked to a major performance venue), and it was quite remarkable.