Music Humanities Spring 2020 Section 13 Class Blog

Jack Becker, Creative Writing & Psychology, CC ’21

I am deeply thrilled to be presenting with the Avant Garde. When I was little, I despised music of this sort, like I did black and white movies and silent films. Now that I’m older, I’ve begun to realize the intricacies and beauties of both the Avant Garde and silent filmography, especially the movie The Passion of Joan of Arc, a psychological and profound French film from 1928 that depicts the trial of Joan of Arc. Watching this movie, I am smitten by the intense close-ups of Renée Jeanne Falconetti, the searing urgency that comes with a commingling of defiance and intense vulnerability. Listening to Kaija Saariaho’s boundless orchestrations in L’amor de lion, I was reminded of this particular stirring scene from The Passion, in which Joan of Arc is questioned by the court on whether God has made her any promises.

Pay close attention to the subtleties of the actor’s movements. It’s amazing how much a single look, a single aversion of the eyes, can influence the story so tremendously. It makes me think of every note in the opening swell of L’amor de lion, which feel discordant and yet are working in fabulous tandem. Also pay attention to any peculiar sensations you might have watching this film, namely the inner-suggestion that pieces of film nearly a hundred years old almost take on a modern quality with the passage of time, lending it to becoming an almost new kind of “avant garde.” I am convinced that if someone made a film similar to The Passion today, they would be regarded as a post-modernist dabbling in minimalism. I wouldn’t be surprised if this has already happened.

I recommend watching this clip overlaid with the beginning moments of L’amor de lion. While the following video has a soundtrack, try muting it and seeing how the overlay of Saariaho affects the meaning of the scene.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4_KDf4xhU8

Listening to this piece instantly made me think of the silent film era, and inadvertently Charlie Chaplin. Silent films relied on their sound track to add to the viewing experience and was probably the hardest decision of the entire production. Choosing the right soundtrack was integral to the effect your film has on the viewers and choosing the wrong track could in turn ruin the whole film. This piece, a fast paced composition with multiple moving parts sounded chaotic and frenzied to me, not allowing for a moments rest or peace. Who better to represent such a feeling than Charlie Chaplin?

Charlie Chaplins film, modern times aimed to depict the struggle of surviving in a modern and industrialized world. Unable to cope with the unrealistic demands of the job, Chaplin spirals into comedic chaos, seemingly loosing his mind and senses along the way. The fast paced composition uses Sprechstimme, accompanied by various different instruments that play at a fast pace, separate from the voice. This adds an element of surprise and unpredictability to the composition. The scene from the clip, where Chaplin is desperately trying to keep up with the fast moving belt signifies this canonic treatment created by the various instruments. The music seems to be getting away from the vocalist and playing at its own pace, almost as if it has a mind of its own. The distinction between the voice and the instruments parallels the separate entities that the Factory and Chaplin are, highlighting their incompatibility. The piece also has a slightly comical feel to it which again fits right into Chaplins performance.

Krish Kapur, Financial Economics, CC’21

From the soft uneasiness of the introduction to its final frenzied death-dance, “The Rite of Spring” is inundated with a sense of impending doom. Desperation, hysteria, madness, helplessness — listening to it felt a bit like having a bad dream. So I wanted to choose an piece of art that could fully embody the illogical but overwhelming sense of dread that comes with every nightmare.

To me, Goya’s Black Paintings came to mind. The one that I felt best suited this piece was “A Pilgrimage to San Isidro”. Distorted faces, half agonized, half ecstatic, meld together into a sickly mess just as the strings’ melodies blur uneasily into one another. The crowd, driven by some compulsion we do not understand, marches into the hills; many cry out, their voices mimicking the cacophony of horns and drums in Stravinsky’s piece. There is chaos and madness in this painting, but there is also an eerie stillness in the grey bleakness of the hills, reminiscent of the introduction in the symphony.

Both “The Rite of Spring” and “A Pilgrimage to San Isidro” are unsettling pieces of art. But art is not always intended to soothe — and the results of Stravinsky’s and Goya’s efforts were masterpieces whose impact on Western art will be felt for generations.

Jane Pan, Applied Mathematics, SEAS ’21

While listening to Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring,” the different parts of the ballet become recognizable as distinct. But despite being made up of identifiably different parts, the oeuvre feels cohesive and thematically consistent. Overall, the piece felt forceful and dramatic. While listening to it, I was reminded of overwhelming natural phenomenon such as tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, monsoons, and thunderstorms at various points. In choosing a visual I was drawn to the idea of volcanic eruptions, but these seemed to match up best for certain points of the piece rather than more extended sections. Instead, I chose this video of lava flow following volcanic activity in Hawaii, which matches up best when listening to the Stravinsky piece beginning at 3:06. The drama of the louder parts was augmented by the contrast between these and quieter, more solemn parts, such as the very beginning of the piece. However, even these retain a sense of drama and unease as they are staccato and performed in minor key; they create a sense of creeping anticipation and forward motion leading into swells and imposing crescendos. I found this to aptly mirror the progress of the molten lava overtaking the lush forest and the build up following the increasingly dramatic images of flames and swirling clouds of smoke leading up to the mouth of the volcano.

Sara Diaz, Political Science and Latin American Studies, CC ’21

Kenny Ridwan (CC ’21), History

When I listened to Der Erlkonig, it reminded me of despair and sadness. It’s use of a single repetitive high note, minor tonality, along with the dissonance of certain lines add to the already building urgency and drama. Without understanding the story or the lyrics, the music already seems to illustrate tragedy. After reading the poetic origins, I decided that the only way to convey a similar thematic tone was to choose a story that mirrored the tragedy of a supernatural elf king stealing a child.

The lyrics of the song portray a conversation between a father his son and the Erlkonig. While the son can hear the Erlkonig whispering to him, his father cannot. The Erlkonig eventually kills his son. The tragedy of a supernatural death before the child’s time is the main theme of the song.

Indeed, to the lonesome pufferfish floating in the huge ocean, the dolphin is an animal that can easily be mistaken for a supernatural being. Whereas evolution had given the dolphin a large brain and the ability to move efficiently through its ecosystem, cruel nature had gifted the pufferfish with the ability to look and feel like a Nerf ball. As the poem reads, “I love you. Your beautiful form delights me! And if you’re not willing, I’ll use force.” In a similar manner, the dolphin cares little for the trivial wants of the pufferfish. Alike the Lovecraftian horror that arose half a century after this song was popularized, the dolphin represents the cosmic horror of the unknown much like the Erlkonig himself.

Mariya Grigorova Delyakova, Mathematics and Computer Science, CC’21
When I first listened to the section, starting at 1:45, in Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 13, Op. 130, First Movement, (https://youtu.be/f7jpSN8BDug?t=105), I was immediately reminded of folklore dancing. For my presentation, I chose a visual media response that shows dancers dressed in Bulgarian costumes that are dancing a traditional folklore dance (starting at 1:30 https://youtu.be/zI1ouWP98bA?t=91). The fast tempo that begins at 1:45 in Beethoven’s, Op. 130, together with the quick quadruple meter, reminded me of the fast jump-like movements from folklore dancing, and I thought the Bulgarian dance fit very well with the musical piece. In the video we can see the brisk movements of the dancers – they move forth and back by rhythmically jumping from one foot to the other, they turn around, pass below each other’s hands, and overall we can see a lot of movement and energy. This can even start to feel a bit busy and chaotic, as the dancers move in all directions, interact with each other, and spin around, while constantly jumping. Because of that, I thought the dance aligned well with the lively disjunct melody starting at 1:45 in Beethoven’s Op. 130. Just like the melody, which ascends, and descends in wavelike contour, the dancers move everywhere. Lastly, the overall feeling conveyed by the melody is very positive, which is emphasized by the major mode. This is also reflected in the video, which displays the constantly smiling performers and their lively movements.

Imogene Schwarz, Undecided, GS ’23

The first thing that struck me when I listened to “Libiamo, ne’ lieti calici” was the strong emphasis of the first beat in each bar of music. This rhythm is characteristic of a waltz, or a piece of music in triple meter. In the video I have chosen of penguins fighting over mating, you can see starting at about 1:38 one of penguins begins nodding his head in rhythmic timing with the strong beats in “Libiamo, ne’ lieti calici.” Then, at around 1:50 another set of penguins begin having an altercation in which they slap each other with their wings. The quick back and fourth motions that their wings make as they slap each other mimics the contour of the music and the feeling the music provides of quickly floating back and fourth. Later in the video, fighting begins to break out between the male and female penguins and this interaction reminds me of the way in which the male and female performer in the video of “Libiamo, ne’ lieti calici” interact and sing in a conversing manner. Additionally, in the video there is a large group of penguins surrounding the two fighting penguins. These penguins mostly just watch the two penguins fight, but occasionally join into the altercation. This is similar to the way in which the crowd of people in “Libiamo, ne’ lieti calici” are mostly just onlookers of the lead man and woman singing, but sometimes the entire chorus joins in.

Cassidy Williams, Undecided, CC ‘23

Giuseppe Verdi: La Traviata, “Libiamo, ne’ lieti calici”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bNOnXTe4Ok

The first time I heard this piece was when I went to the opera last week, so immediately the extravagant costumes and sets were associated with the music. The triple meter and repetition of the quick melody is reminiscent of a waltz, which makes sense because the libretto talks about a drinking party. It is extremely lively and upbeat. The song is also a duet between a man and a woman with a large background chorus. This reminded me of an ice skating pair. Much like the circular essence of the repetitive melody and triple meter, the pair rapidly circles the ice rink. In the background, like the chorus, the crowd outnumbers and surrounds the pair.  The striking higher notes in the piece evoke a climax, with a long build up in the opera. These climaxes are reminiscent of the difficult jumps and special technical moves in the ice skating routine. The contour is wavelike and the song almost sounds bouncy, going up and down quickly which reminded me of the quick movements we can see in the ice skating. The music seems as if it is chasing after itself, each note is quickly followed by the other, just as the ice skaters mimic each other and support each other. They are rarely far apart. In the ending of the ice skating scene, the man holds the woman and she spins around him, following the music towards the end of the song that repeats and builds until it reaches the end.

Jonathon Cohen, Computer Science, CC ’21

The first image that came to mind when listening to this piece was that of a ballerina. The short, high notes of the piano resemble the gentle pitter-patter and tip-toeing of the ballerina on the dance floor. The rhythm is relatively fast, constant, and consistent throughout the piece, just as the motion of the ballerina is constant during her routine. Lastly, the two parts being played by both hands of the pianist sometimes play in unison and sometimes play in discord, just as the two ballerinas in the video dance sometimes in parallel and sometimes in contrast to each other.

Haixin Peng

When listening to the soprano aria of “Messiah” by George Frideric Handel Handel, it reminded me of the musical-like moments in Disney movies where a princess dances and sings with the accompaniment of her people. Therefore, I started searching for Disney singing excerpts and was surprised to find the resemblance between the two. 

In the video, Belle starts singing by herself and is joined by the town people as she walked. In between lines of melody, she also chats with people she sees on the street which I found interestingly similar to the recitatives in an opera. The form is also ternary with an A-B-A’ pattern which is similar to the form of the lyrical soprano aria.