I think it’s fair to say that 20th and 21st century music don’t always get a fair amount of coverage in terms of music history and theory courses, specifically at the undergraduate level. I understand this is partially because of the wide variety of styles and developments that took place during the 20th century, but I still feel it is problematic that so much is left out. The musical developments of the 20th century, specifically the latter half of the 20th century, shaped our modern approaches and conception of music and art in popular genres and concert music, yet so little time is devoted to the study of that music. 
    I don’t feel that 20th/21st century music should dominate music history/theory curriculums, and I can only speak from personal experience, but I feel that a large majority of American music students are lacking in their knowledge of 20th century music beyond Stravisnky, the 2nd Viennese School and American minimalism. As an undergrad I learned about Debussy, Shoenberg, Webern, Berg, Bartok, Stravinksy, Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Ives, Poulenc and Copland in detail. After that unit of early 20th century music we jumped through Messiaen, mentioned that Darmstadt was a place that existed, learned a lot about American minimalism (at least Glass and Reich) and then finished a superficial passing of composers from ~1975-present. 
    That said, I don’t really have a solution for this problem, and I understand developing new courses and changing curricula is a long and difficult process. However, there are so many composers that I personally think all undergraduate students should know about, especially if they plan to continue with graduate studies in music. I have narrowed this list down to 35 composers who, if I had my druthers, would required information for all undergraduate history and theory courses. Below is my list of composers as well as a short rationale for each:


…but before we get started


Honorable Mention
These are composers I feel could be on this list, but excluded them because they seem to receive more coverage in undergraduate courses, and are performed more frequently. This, however, is based solely on my own undergraduate experience and my observation of other undergraduate curriculums I experienced through my graduate and doctoral studies.

           Elliott Carter
           Olivier Messiaen 
           John Cage
           Philip Glass
           Steve Reich
           John Corigliano
           John Adams

And, in a perfect world, I would prefer to teach two courses - early 20th century and late 20th/21st century history - which would include the following composers:

          Ruth Crawford Seeger
          Carl Ruggles
          Witold Lutoslawski
          György Kurtág
​          Toru Takemitsu
​          Alfred Schnittke
          Ben Johnston
          Stuart Saunders Smith
          John Luther Adams
          Joan La Barbara
         Brian Ferneyhough
         Tristan Murail
         Claude Vivier
         Libby Larsen
         Salvatore Sciarrino
         Laurie Anderson
         Chaya Czernowin
         Jennifer Higdon
         David Lang
         Julia Wolfe
        Michael Gordon
​        Unsuk Chin
         John Zorn
         Kevin Puts
         

        .......but we don't live in a perfect world, so let's move on
___________________________________________

The 35 Composers

Edgard Varese - emancipator of noise and sound; key figure in the early 20th century avant-garde, made major impact on electronic music (58 Brussels’ World Fair) , truly unique figure who influenced so many facets of music of the early, mid and late 20th century 


Pierre Boulez - arguably one of the most frequently performed and awarded musicians on the 20th century, very skilled conductor, virtuoso pianist, innovative composer, knowledgeable theorist and musicologist; we should get past the mistakes of his youth and give his work the respect it deserves 


Luciano Berio - Composer who balanced the lyricism and with the sound world and integral serial methods of the Darmstadt school (in early works), later works showing more eclecticism of style marked by post-Modernist composers, but with the gestural and harmonic language that grew out of Darmstadt. Berio also did some pioneering work in electronic music and text-sound composition; at a minimum one should know the Sequenzas


Karlheinz Stockhausen - Like Boulez, Stockhausen was one of the most influential musical figures of the 20th century, but Stockhausen’s influence (especially in electronic music) reaches into popular music and experimental rock and jazz; also a talented conductor, pianist and theorist in addition to being an innovative composer


Luigi Nono - Darmstadt composer with a different approach from the total serialism of Boulez, Berio, Stockhausen, et al; Nono brings a level of narrative and expression to what is otherwise very aggressive music; highly influential on developments in Italian music of the middle and late 20th century


Milton Babbitt - Though notorious for his “Composer as Specialist,” Babbitt was an incredible teacher and composer who influenced many composers of the 20th century (including musical composer Steven Sondheim); highly influential in terms of music theory and analysis of atonal music with pitch sets, serial procedures, combinatoriality, etc.; Pioneering work in electronic music at CPEMC


Harry Partch - His life is an incredible story; arguably the most important figure in microtonal music of the 20th century, instrument maker, highly influential on microtonal music (experimental and popular)


Iannis Xenakis  - Major figure in electronic music and mathematical approaches to composition with serialization; developed his own theories and approaches outlined in Formalized Music


Krzysztof Penderecki - All undergrads will know Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima, but it’s likely that few will know De Natura Sonoris Nos. 1 and 2, Polymorphia, Anaklasis, Kanon for Orchestra and Tape, Fluorescences, and the St. Luke Passion. Not only are these beatiful works that explore color and timbre as a primary formal framing device, they are all landmark works in sound mass composition. They are also all used in various films, including The Shining, The Exorcist, Wild at Heart, Children of Men and Shutter Island. Don’t like noisy sound masses? That’s ok, because Penderecki later turned his back on experimental noise music and began writing more traditional neo-Romantic music, which is equally beautiful, albeit a little on the “old” side for my personal taste (but no one asked for that here). 


Gyorgi Ligeti - Early pieces utilizing quotation and influence of Bartok and Kodaly, 50s and 60s compositions with micropolyphony, sound-mass composition, textural music based on electronic experimentation; later works showing a multitude of styles. Ligeti basically did it all, and did it well.


Morton Feldman - major figure in experimental music, developed new systems of graphic notation, influential on music and art of the 60s, 70s and 80s. Feldman is primarily important for his contributions to aleatoric and indeterminate music (also developed by his contemporaries Cage, Earle Browne and Christian Wolff). I think Cage is covered fairly well, and while I would like to see Brown and Wolff covered extensively, I would be fine with undergrads having a more than passing acquaintance with Feldman.


George Crumb - Crumb is taught to an extent, but students should know beyond Ancient Voices and Black Angels; incredibly important figure in American new music; style is without comparison in terms of sound and notation; no one writes like Crumb, but Crumb, new approaches to timbre


Peter Maxwell Davies - Later works are mostly tonal works for students, but he was an important composer in Europe, and his early stage works Eight Songs for a Mad King and Miss Donathorn’s Maggot were very influential on crossover works of music, theater and performance art


Jacob Druckman - similar to Joseph Schwantner in terms of orchestrational color and imaginative use of ensemble timbre, but Druckman encompasses a very wide range of style and aesthetic. He was highly influential on a generation of students (including Cindy McTee, David Lang, Laurie Spiegel, Aaron Kernis, Daniel Kellogg and Chris Theofonidis), and he is a great example of a composer who was heavily influenced by electronic music and the potential of new sounds available, more so than many of his post-Modernist contemporaries of the mid-late 20th century.


Mario Davidovsky - Influential composer at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center, series of Synchronisms for solo instruments and tape. Davidovsky is one of 3 composers to win a Pulitzer Prize with a piece utilizing electronics as a primary component of the piece (Synchronism 6 for piano and tape), the other two being Leon Kirchner and Charles Wuorinen. 


Pierre Schaeffer - One of the earliest practitioners of elecronic music; established musique concrete, created Groupe Recherches Musicales (GRM) which is still a highly influential organization for the research and development of electronic music


Helmut Lachenmann - developed the concept of acoustic concrete, which drove entirely new approaches to acoustic composition


Sofia Gubaidulina - Incredibly skilled Russian composer who ISN’T Shostakovich (nothing against, him, but Russian music did continue after Dmitri…); lots of use of quotation, mixing of styles, use of improvisation techniques, exploration of interesting timbres. Gubaidulina has also received numerous awards for her music, and is somehow still not a household name among 20th century composers.


Julius Eastman - I know we’ve all heard of Glass, Reich, Riley and Young, but Julius Eastman is rarely, if ever, talked about in classroom discussions of minimalism, which is really terrible. Eastman was an amazing performer (singer and pianist) and a brilliant composer whose life and work were cut entirely too short. If you’re looking for some minimalism with a little grit and a lot of depth, maybe put down Reich/Glass and pick up some eastman. 


Pauline Oliveros - Founding member of the San Francisco Tape Music Center and the founder of Deep Listening. Oliveros is a highly influential composer and innovator of electronic music who taught at numerous institutions including Mill College, San Diego State University, Oberlin, and the Rensselaer Institute. 


Terry Riley - I know I just said we all know about Teri Riley, but really most people just know about In C, which is undeniably influential, and is a lot of fun to perform. That said, Riley’s music is heavily influenced by jazz and Indian classical music, and much of his work outside of In C shows that cross-cultural influence, which became important to the ritualistic aspect of cell-based minimalism. Riley also did important work at the San Francisco Tape Music Center. 


La Monte Young - Another composer associated with classical minimalism who existed well outside of that aesthetic, Young was very active in experimental music and performance art, specifically his work with Fluxus. Young’s work was also very influential on John Cale and his work with the Velvet Underground, and helped to pioneer the practice of ambient drone music.


Meredith Monk - Lots of important work in performance art, has received numerous honors and awards for her contributions to contemporary art, music and theater, often works on interdisciplinary multimedia works that stretch genres and has received recognition in the popular music and film world. 


Frederic Rzewski - American composer who is often associated with minimalism based on the surface repetition, but Rzewski’s music contains a level of subtlety and improvisation that is not often found in the classic minimalism of Glass and Reich, but is more similar to that of Riley and Julius Eastman (contemporaries of Rzewski). Rzewski’s music is also marked by its association with topics of social and political activism.


Charles Wuorinen - I don’t think Charles Wuorinen ever was, or will be, a household name, but he’s definitely a composer that all undergraduates - especially composers - should have at least a passing knowledge of. While most of Wuorinen’s output could be defined as coming from the 12-tone and serialist tradition, and although he can sometimes be a curmudgeonly old man, his music is vastly rich and deep, and I feel that it has stood the test of time. Additionally, he won a Pulitzer Prize for his piece Time’s Encomium in 1970, the only Pulitzer Prize awarded to an entirely electronic work. It should also be noted that Wuorinen wrote what was at one time a very influential composition book, and he had numerous students that would later become highly successful composers (Arthur Russeell, Michael Daugherty, Aaron Jay Kernis) 


Robert Morris - Possibly better known in the theory world, but Robert Morris is an incredibly brilliant musician and a very creative composer. His works are not limited to mental gymnastics of serial and post-serial technique, but are full of expressive beauty and nuance. His outdoor pieces are also incredibly creative works that utilize large outdoor spaces and spatialized ensembles to create immersive sonic events. He was also on faculty at Eastman (along with Schwantner and Sam Adler) and had his own flock of dedicated and talented pupils. 


Kaija Saariaho - Arguably one of the most frequently performed composers of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Saariaho’s music sits somewhere between post modernism and spectralism, but regardless of what genre you want to put on it, the music is crafted masterfully, satisfies modernist interests in complex “systematic” atonality (not serial in any way, but not freely atonal) and is simultaneously hauntingly expressive. Saariaho also has many works that are major pieces for instruments and electronics including Pres for cello and electronics, Noanoa for flute and electronics and Nymphea for string quartet and electronics. 


Arvo Pärt - The Estonian king of holy minimalism. Arvo Part’s music is rich and beautiful, but it is also important for being influential in what is now referred to as holy minimalism (along with Henryk Gorecki and John Tavener), a style which utilizes the repetition associated with American minimalism, but with the pacing and mood of choral music, or at least more chorale-like textures. Part is often considered the originator of this approach to minimalism, and his instrumental and choral works in this style are performed frequently throughout the world.


Gerard Grisey - French composer credited with developing spectral composition along with his colleague Tristan Murail. Spectral music was a major development in composition that led to influences in orchestral and chamber music as well as electronic composition (with and without instruments) and film music. In my personal opinion Grisey should be included with Debussy, Les Six, Messiaen and Boulez in terms of his importance to French music and contemporary composition on the whole.


Louis Andriessen - Andriessen’s mature musical style is oten associated with minimalism because of its use of repetition, but it is highly influenced by jazz and simultaneously by the spectral techniques of Claude Vivier. While many minimalists chose to utilize pitch structures related to tonal and modal harmony, Andriessen’s music favors crunchy European dissonance and pitch structures based on the natural overtones series. Andriessen also utilizes odd combinations of instruments instead of more traditional chamber groups or orchestras


Joan Tower - A major figure in the development of late 20th century American music. Tower was also a performer and was a founding member/pianist of the Da Capo Chamber Players. Her music has received numerous awards including a Grawemeyer for Silver Ladders. Other important works include Sequoia, Petroushskates and Fanfare for the Uncommon Woman


Frank Zappa - Frank Zappa is, in my opinion, one of the most interesting and talented musical minds of the 20th century. He never formally studied music or composition and could write chamber and orchestral works on the level of Varese, Stravinsky, Berg, Boulez, you name it. He also wrote interesting genre bending popular music in numerous styles, experimented with electronics (having composed numerous fixed media electronic compositions), he worked at IRCAM, was one of the first people to own a personal Synclavier, and arguably influenced music in popular music and contemporary concert music to a greater extent than anyone on this list. 


Ellen Taaffe Zwillich - The first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize (1983 for Three Movements for Orchestra, Symphony No. 1), first person to hold the Composer’s Chair at Carnegie hall, a massive list of honors and awards, four Grammy nominations, chair of the BMI Student Composer Award (following Milton Babbitt and William Schuman). Zwillich’s music and career should be taught in all 20th century music history courses, without a doubt.


Shulamit Ran - The second woman to win a Pulitzper Prize (1990 for Symphony), recorded by over 12 record labels, numerous honors/awards and five honorary doctorate degrees. Shulamit Ran teaches at the University of Chicago and has been a leading voice in contemporary music throughout the world and her approach to composition is influenced by her studies with Norman Dello Joio, Ralph Shapey and Elliott Carter. This led to a compositional voice characterized by eclecticism of style, harmonic and rhythmic language.  


Augusta Reed Thomas - A talented composer who could be described as balancing postmodernism and neo-Romanticism. Thomas was very talented as a young composer and became a tenured professor at Eastman at the age of 33, but later went on to teach at Northwestern. Thomas has composed for numerous ensembles and genres, has received numerous awards and commissions and is frequently performed throughout the world. It is difficult to deny that she is one of the most celebrated composers of the 21st century.


Thomas Adès - I feel that Thomas Adès’ music is similar to Augusta Reed Thomas in terms of style and aesthetic, and I personally feel that I could not include Augusta Reed Thomas without Thomas Adès or Adès without Thomas. His music also demonstrates his approach to post-modernism with eclecticism of style, pastiche, quotation and colorful instrumentation.

    I am deeply saddened to learn of the passing of composer, conductor, pianist and author Pierre Boulez on January 5, 2016. I woke up this morning (Wednesday, Jan. 6), made myself a cup of tea, opened my laptop and continued working on a Max/MSP patch to run the electronics for Boulez’s Anthemes II for violin and electronics - a project I’ve been working on constantly for the last few days - when I took a brief detour to check the news. The first thing I saw on NPR was an article titled "Composer Pierre Boulez, A Reverend Iconoclast, Has Died at 90," and I was completely stunned. Literally, stunned for a second - I couldn’t move enough to refresh the page to make sure the article was real. After a minute or two the initial shock wore off and I read the article in front of me. I went on a search to find more articles that could confirm the story. I just couldn’t believe that Boulez had passed away.
    I’m not sure why I had such a hard time believing this was true. Boulez was 90 years old and I knew that he had health issues that were preventing him from traveling to various performances and festivals throughout 2015, but it still came as such a shock to me. The music world lost such an incredibly talented, creative, thoughtful, and imaginative musician - a man who is arguably one of the most important figures of the 20th century whose music, recordings and writings will continue to influence musicians long into the 21st century. I have only been familiar with Boulez and his contributions to music for a decade, but I can honestly say that he has been the most influential voice on my career as a musician. 
    My first interaction with Boulez’s music was when I was an undergraduate at Ohio University. His name came up in a history book in relation to his work Le Marteau sans Maitre and post-WWII Darmstadt serialism, but little time was spent on the topic. I mostly knew Boulez as a conductor, and I owned many of his recordings (most importantly The Complete Works of Anton Webern), and listened to them often. When I began my graduate studies at Bowling Green State University I became much better acquainted (figuratively) with Boulez the composer while taking a contemporary music survey course with Dr. Mikel Kuehn. I later studied composition with Dr. Kuehn, and he continued to foster my interest in Boulez’s music through score study, guided reading, small exercises in serial and post-serial composition, etc. I was fascinated by the immense spectrum of timbral color that Boulez could get from both a large orchestra and a solo performer. His mathematical compositional techniques appealed to my more rational side of thinking and the visceral result of his music appealed to my personal aesthetic taste. And, if I’m being honest, his writings appealed to my love of working against the grain and shaking things up. Boulez became a new compositional idol for me, and he has remained a constant source of inspiration.
    While many will remember Boulez as a young polemical composer/performer in the middle of 1940s war-ravaged Europe, I hope that most will choose to remember him for the numerous contributions and innovations he made to the world of contemporary music. Additionally, there are myriad interviews with Boulez’s colleagues over the years (Daniel Barenboim, Simon Rattle, Pierre Aimard and others) who speak very highly of Boulez as a person, speaking of his gentle demeanor and lighthearted attitude. Was he an intense musical figure? Yes. Did he place extreme demands on performers? Yes, that too. Did he say outlandish inflammatory things at a time when he was a young man surrounded by musical pioneers in the center of new music of the world and was basically given a podium and a bullhorn? Yes, but that should all be water under the bridge at this point. With that out of the way, what I have read so far in obituaries and social media postings have been incredibly positive and uplifting and speak very highly of Boulez both as a musician and as a human being. I can only hope that this kind of courtesy and heartfelt remembrance of a great musical hero and pioneer will continue.
    And with that, I say goodbye, Maestro Boulez, and thank you for all that you've given me, and more importantly, thank you for everything you've given to the world of music. 

Below is a selection of obituaries, videos of Boulez’s music and a video tribute to Boulez put together by Universal Edition. 

Articles:
The New York Times
BBC
The Guardian
The Telegraph

Universal Edition Tribute (all interviews available in full on the UE youtube channel)

On July 27, Eric Guinivan (the curator of the website Composer’s Circle) published research on programming trends among American orchestras, specifically the number of living vs. deceased composers on orchestra programs in the 2015-16 concert season. The article was very interesting, and while there was nothing surprising in the data Eric gathered, it was good to be able to apply empirical data to the topic. Here’s a quick rundown of the numbers Eric presented:


          =  Living composers account for 10.9% of orchestra programming
          =  162 pieces by living composers out of 1,483 total pieces programmed in the 2015-16 season
          =  Living female composers is limited mostly to Jennifer Higdon, Anna Clyne, Gabriella Lena
               Frank and Sarah Kirkland Snider
         =  Beethoven, Mozart, Brahms, Tchaikovsky and Strauss make up more than 25% (387 pieces)
             of orchestral programming
​
(Please see the rest of Guinivan’s article for more details. It’s an interesting article and must-read for composers, especially young/emerging composers)


Again, this shouldn’t be shocking to anyone who follows orchestra concert seasons. Guinivan’s research confirms the upsetting fact that orchestras and large concert halls simply are no longer a primary support system of the music of today. The numbers in Guinivan’s study combined with this article by New Yorker columnist Alex Ross (and many others like it) paint a dismal picture of the current state of contemporary music. It would seem that audiences, curators, and now even performers are less interested in hearing and/or performing new works by young composers. But is that actually true? I, personally, am not satisfied with that mindset, whether it is the truth or not.

That said, Guinivan’s article got me thinking. I knew that there are many outlets for living composers - calls for scores, established new music festivals, start-up festivals, touring chamber groups and soloists actively commissioning new works, artist residencies, etc. After making a long list of opportunities and outlets for younger generations of composers I decided to do my own version of Guinivan’s study. I gathered programming information for the 2015-16 season for various chamber ensembles, primarily American chamber groups. I then gathered the total number of living and deceased composers per ensemble. I calculated the number of living composers, deceased composers, male, female, total number of works by a composer and total number of commissioned works by each composer. After gathering this data for each ensemble I made a database of all the composers to take a look at the numbers without dealing with the issue of duplication (in other words, the database calculations would only count a composer once even if they appear on the roster of multiple ensembles).

Then there was the issue of scope. Chamber music is a very broad category. To get a good sampling of (nearly) everything that goes on in chamber music I broke ensembles up into the following categories:


                       =  Mixed ensembles of more than 8 players (8 ensembles)
                       =  Mixed ensembles of 4-8 players (4 ensembles)
                       =  String quartet (4 ensembles)
                       =  Saxophone quartet (2 ensembles)
                       =  Wind quintet (2 ensembles)
                       =  Percussion ensemble (2 ensembles)
                       =  Brass quintet (2 ensembles)
                       =  Vocal ensemble, mostly a capella (2 ensembles)

​
The following is a list of all of the ensembles used for this research.
American Modern Ensemble *                             American Brass Quintet * ^
Crash Ensemble *                                                  Meridian Arts Ensemble +
Ensemble Dal Niente * ^                                       Emerson String Quartet
Ensemble Modern                                                  Julliard String Quartet
Ensemble Intercontemporain                               Kronos Quartet
Great Noise Ensemble                                           Imani Winds * ^
Ictus                                                                         Madera Wind Quintet + ^
International Contemporary Ensemble  * ^        Prism Quartet * +
Bang-On-A-Can All Stars * ^                                  XASAX Quartet +
eighth blackbird * ^                                               Line Upon Line Percussion * ^
Loadbang * ^                                                          Third Coast Percussion ^
Yarn/Wire * ^                                                         Roomful of Teeth *
Quince Contemporary Ensemble * ^                  JACK Quartet *


*    =    ensemble was contacted and directly provided programming information
+    =    ensemble repertoire list and past programs used to collect data; programs subject to
            change during season, full rep. list is used throughout concert season
^     =   ensemble does residencies at schools/universities during concert season and performs
            student works not listed on regular concert season


So what did the numbers look like, you ask? Here’s a short breakdown:
=  934 total pieces by 561 composers
           =   443 out of 561 are living composers (79%)
           =  118 deceased composers (21%); compared to 89.1% of orchestra programming
                       =  36 composers deceased within the last 25 years
=  476 male composers to 85 female composers
           =  15% female composers. Still a terrible number


In short, the numbers for chamber ensembles is totally opposite of what Guinivan found to be the trend for orchestras. The only number that isn’t drastically different is the number of female composers. While 15% is an embarrassingly small number (and poor representation) of female composers, what is important is that the 15% represents a total of 85 female composers. Compare that to a little more than 4 in orchestral programming.

The two graphs below show the difference in programming living vs. deceased composers for the chamber groups in my study and the orchestras in Guinivan’s study.

The following graph shows all of the information gathered in the master database of composers
​

       For this week’s post I want to talk about something that has been on mind a lot over the last couple of years - titles. Composers, and all artists for that matter, spend a lot of time laboring over the titles of their works. I would say they also spend as much time arguing with each other about “good” and “bad” titles, but that's just an observation from personal experience. But it is this argument that I want to talk about here, specifically the idea of “bad” titles. I think this is a subject that should be discussed more frequently, mostly because of the heated arguments I’ve seen - and in some cases been a part of - wherein one party considers a title absolutely awful whereas the other party might love that same title. I’ll try to keep this a brief discussion of my own feelings on titles, what they mean, and what might constitute labeling a title as either good or bad. 

       I think before we can even talk about the difference in criteria for a good or bad title we first have to think about what the actual function of a title is. It might be more useful to first think about the function of titles in other art forms. For instance, what is the function of the title of a book or film? The main function in those mediums is to get the reader's/viewer's attention while simultaneously giving some kind of clue as to what will be unfolded in the book or movie - plot, characters, setting, or something else entirely. For these art forms a title is incredibly important. It not only has to immediately grab the reader’s or viewer’s attention but also has to give a glimpse into the work without giving too much away or being too vague. Creating an effective title for a book or film is really an art in itself. I would argue the same goes for visual arts (painting, sculpture, digital video, etc.). Even in the case of abstract art, the title can give the viewer insight to the mind of the artist or process employed in creating the piece and also help provide context  for the work that might not necessarily be immediately visible.

       But what about music? Music is a different animal than the arts presented above, mostly because it is essentially just abstract sound. Music, regardless of it's complexity and beauty, is just vibration of air molecules. Books contain words and language, which we have ascribed meaning to. As long as one speaks the language of the book they can make sense out of what is inside. Films contain moving images and dialogue, which again create an immediate connection for the viewer to make sense out of what they are seeing. Visual arts, even the most abstract, can have some kind of meaning and context given to them even from a simple association of a well-crafted title. Sound, though, has no inherent meaning, until we give it meaning. We can attribute certain characteristics to sounds - consonant, dissonant, rich, abrasive, high, low, loud, soft - but these terms don’t describe anything other than acoustical properties of the sound. The only situation in which music can really start to take on meaning beyond acoustical properties is when there is an accompanying text. This is still problematic because if one were to remove the text and replace it with gibberish the music itself would not change. By that I mean that the “meaning” and characteristics of the sounds would be no different, but the extra-musical association with those sounds would take on a completely different meaning, or take on no meaning at all!

       So, again, what is the function of a title in music? Well, first, a title is simply a way of naming a piece of music, making it easy to reference whether that is for programming purposes, cataloging, etc. Giving a piece a title is really just a means of identifying it. But that seems like a gross oversimplification of this topic, so let's dig a little deeper.

       I think it’s good to think about the historical use of titles. Looking back to the Medieval and Renaissance periods, a large portion of the recorded catalog of music is vocal music - both sacred and secular - in which titles were often derived from the text used. Moving into the Baroque period instrumental music, cantatas and staged operas became more common. The titles for operas and cantatas typically came from the libretto used, so there is still the text association. Instrumental music often served some sort of function, whether it was for dance, court functions or other rituals. The titles for these instrumental works were often derived from the style or form of the piece (sarabande, gigue, suite, sonata, etc.). That isn’t to say this was always the case. Some instrumental works did have programmatic subtitles, such as Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” concerto. Still, many titles were a reflection of the form and/or function of the piece.

      This practice can been found throughout Classical period rep, but more pieces with poetic or descriptive subtitles (Hammerklavier, Jupiter symphony, “Surprise” symphony, and others) start popping up in addition to the more general form/function and opus number titles. In the interest of time we’ll skip through the Romantic period in which many pieces, specifically instrumental works, were titled with programmatic and evocative titles that gave the listener little or no insight to the form or function of a piece. Going into the 20th century this approach to descriptive/programmatic titles became more common practice, to the point that I would say it’s far more common to see pieces with a “programmatic” title than with a title such as symphony, sonata, cantata, etc.

       So, why has Western music moved in this direction, and what does it mean for the function of a title in 21st century music? I would say that one explanation for moving away from form-descriptive titles is that many works, specifically experimental compositions, no longer follow those more traditional forms. That isn’t to say that composers are not still using more traditional forms, it just seems like a less common practice in the 21st century, and uses of "symphonic form" or sonata form is often a deformation of the traditional formal trajectory. However, some composers, and I’m thinking specifically about mid-century atonal composers, used what seem like programmatic titles but they actually describe the structure or form of the piece in some way. These titles are like a middle ground between the two methods of titling a work (programmatic and form/function). Think about Boulez’s Structures, which is a piece focused on the large-scale and small-scale structural framework of the piece. Stockhausen’s Kreuzspiel (cross-play) describes the registral interaction of the instruments. Lutoslawski’s Chain I and Chain II reference the composer’s use of what he called chain form. This is really just a slightly more poetic approach to form/function titles.

       But lets get back to the programmatic titles, which are really at the heart of what I'm talking about with the "good" vs. "bad" dichotomy. Why do composers choose more evocative titles? Sometimes the title of a composition is a reference to some kind of external element. Maybe the title references a piece of visual art, architecture, a book or short story, maybe a line from a poem. This explains where the title comes from, and in some way should give the listener clues as to how it relates to the music. The connections may be difficult to hear on the surface, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist in some form. The use of these “programmatic” titles can help provide the listener with some kind of mental image the composer intends to evoke with the sounds he or she creates. Maybe the piece was inspired by a work of visual art and the creation of the music mimics the structure of art work in some way. Maybe the behavior of two instruments references the interaction of two characters in a book.

       Still, though, when dealing with music - and at this point I will only be referring to instrumental music with no aid of text - we are dealing with abstract sound with no actual meaning beyond the acoustical properties of vibrating air molecules. I hate to keep coming back to that, but I think it’s a good point to keep in mind. In a way, a programmatic title can provide some level of insight to the piece for the listener, but when the title doesn’t reference a clearly audible element of the music what is the point? Could that title be replaced with something else equally poetic and evocative, but with a different mental image attached to it? I don’t think there is a clear-cut answer to this question, but I do think it is a question any composer should think about if they intend for their title to give the listener some kind of context or insight to the music.

       All of this brings me to the final topic of “good” titles and “bad” titles (took me long enough, I know...). Personally, I don’t think that bad titles exist, and I think arguing over the idea of a good or bad title is kind of silly. I think some titles can be more memorable than others. Some titles are more descriptive of the form, which is fine. Some titles are very programmatic in nature, which is also fine especially if the title DOES evoke the mental images or emotional reaction the composer intends. But ultimately, music (and all art for that matter) is a product of the artist and he or she should feel comfortable giving their work whatever title they see fit. I know that sound overly Cageian and is kind of a cop-out answer, but I feel there is a lot of truth to that sentiment.

       One example in defense of my position is Frank Zappa and the often ridiculous titles he used for his music. Frank Zappa is arguably one of the most prominent American composers/musicians of the late 20th century, and was a composer who made a mark in rock, blues, fusion, experimental music and orchestral concert music (I mean come on, Boulez conducted some of his music). He also used titles like “Lumpy Gravy,” “Black Napkins,” “It Must be a Camel,” “G-Spot Tornado,” “Toads of the Short Forest,” and one of my personal favorites “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Sexually Aroused Gas Mask.” It’s also worth mentioning that all of these titles are for instrumental works. Keep in mind that humor and zany lyrics were a staple of Zappa’s music, so it makes sense his titles would just as ridiculous. But I don’t think that makes the point of his strange titles any less valid. While I don’t think the titles often add anything to music itself, they also don’t take anything away. I'm sure you would never hear someone say "man I love that song, but if only Frank hadn't titled 'Camarillo Brillo...'". And you would be hard-pressed to argue that these titles don’t instantly grab your attention and aren’t delightfully memorable.

       I guess my point here is that, as the artist, your title should be whatever you want it to be. I'm going to go into a bit of a tangential argument, but I’ve had conversations with musicians who maintain that a piece should never rely on the theory and/or process used to create it, and the final product, the music itself, should be the primary criteria for evaluating a piece. I’m inclined to agree with that. However, if someone is willing to disregard theory and process as evaluating criteria then the title of a piece should be the absolute LEAST of our worries when evaluating a piece. Ultimately, a “good” or “bad” title is completely subjective, and it’s a waste of everyone’s time to talk about the merits of a “good” title. I think it's more important to think about creating a memorable or appropriate title. After sitting through a long concert I might not remember a piece titled "Sonata no. 4 for oboe and piano" but I would definitely remember a piece with the title "Fembot in a Wet T-Shirt" (yes, that is another Zappa title). 

       That went on a lot longer than I had planned, but it turned out I had more to say on the topic than I thought. For an added bonus, in case you’re curious, I included a list of some of my favorite titles below. What are some of your favorite titles, and why do you like them? 

Until next time!

Aaron Cassidy    i, purples, spat blood, laugh of beautiful lips
Pierre Boulez     Pli Selon Pli  (Fold Over Fold/Fold Upon Fold)
Natasha Barrett  Racing Through, Racing Unseen
Luciano Berio     Eindrucke  (Impressions)
Joseph Schwantner     and the mountains rising nowhere
George Crumb    Ancient Voices of Children
John Adams     On the Transmigration of Souls
Morgan Krauss    Pallid Tongues
Chris Chandler  Deep in Liquid Indigo
Frank Zappa    The Girl in the Magnesium Dress
Elainie Lillios   Dreams in the Desert
Morgan Krauss    Pallid Tongues
Mikel Kuehn   ...lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings
Brian Ferneyhough   Schatten aus Wasser und Stein (Shadows Made of Water and Stone).
Fausto Romitelli  Professor Bad Trip

        So that’s how a nested tuplet is constructed. While this might be helpful for a composer wanting to create this kind of rhythm, it isn’t very helpful for a performer who is expected to perform the rhythm. The top-down approach is, I feel, equally helpful in deconstructing these tuplets. First determine the division of the top-level tuplet, which will let you know how many equal divisions of the tuplet there are. Count out how that tuplet would sound as individual rhythmic impulses without the added tuplet and non-tuplet subdivisions. In the example above the top-level tuplet is a group of five 8ths. Start by counting two beats subdivided into 4 even 8th-notes, then two beats subdivided into five 8ths and end with a group of another group of regularly subdivided 8ths,  a total of six beats. We’ll think of it as one measure of 6|4.        

        The next step I would take would be to add the first second-level tuplet, in this case the triplet. Again, count two beats of 8ths and then the first two beats of the quintuplet 8ths would be counted as a triplet followed by the last three quintuple 8ths and finally two more beats of regularly subdivided 8ths. You could also count beat two of the measure as triplet to feel the difference between a regular triplet and the second-level nested triplet. The last step is to add the second-level tuplet, the quintuplet 16ths. Follow the same process of counting a 6|4 measure with the preceding 8ths into the nested tuplet and the final two beats of eighth notes. Add the 32nd and dotted 16th to complete the entire nested tuplet unit. The entire breakdown might look something like this:

       It’s a little more rare, but you can also use irrational meter to create a temporary slowing of the tempo. For example, the denominator 7 implies 7 equal divisions of a whole note. This is typically conceived as 7 quarter notes. However, it could theoretically also be written as a group of 7 eighth notes at a slightly slower rate than would fill the space of 8 eighth notes, like a group of 2 eighths in one beat of 6|8 measure. Granted, tuplets of a longer beat division (2:3, 7:8) are far more rare than tuplets of a shorter beat division (3:2, 5:4, etc.), but that doesn’t mean they aren’t possible. A measure of 8|7, with the 7 representing eighth notes at a slower rate, would be written as follows:

A measure of 8|7 with the quarter-note pulse would look like this:

This example causes a temporary slowing of the tempo, as opposed to a temporary quickening of the tempo with 5|12. However, when using 7 as a denominator for eighth notes it is a good idea to note in the score that the 7 represents the eighth note, as 7 is often a denominator used to represent quarter-notes. One way around this would be to put a metronome marking in the score. For instance, if the quarter-note tempo at 4|4 is 80 BPM, a measure of 8|7 with an eighth note pulse would have a tempo of eighth = 140 BPM. However, if the 7 denominator is a quarter-note pulse, then the quarter-note tempo would be 140 BPM, making the eighth-note tempo of the measure 280 BPM. This won’t have any impact on the aural result, but will effect the notation of the measure and how the performer interprets the it. If the goal is to make the measure seem slower than surrounding measure the eighth-note pulse should be used. If the goal is to make the measure move more quickly (almost 2x faster!) then the quarter-note 7 denominator should be used.

       The examples above all show how irrational meter can be created, but what does it sound like in a more musical context? The example below contains an measure of irrational meter sandwiched between two measure of standard 5|4 and 4|4 meters. The measure is approached by a triplet and the first beat after the irrational meter is a beat of 4 sixteenth notes to help demonstrate the changing rhythmic rates in relation to the quarter-note meters.

      So there's a little crash course in irrational meter. One questions you might be asking yourself at this point is why would someone choose to do this? Doesn’t it make reading the score complicated for the performer? Isn’t there an easier way to notate these rhythms if they’re basically just tuplets? Why should a performer have to mathematically analyze the music just to play it? These are all great questions, and the short answer is that irrational meter achieves a certain rhythmic push and pull that is really not possible to notate any other way.


      The whole point of using irrational meter is to use an irregular grouping of an uncommon fractional division of a beat. You wouldn’t use an irrational meter of 6|12 because that is 6 eighth-note triplets, which can be written more clearly in 2|4. However, 5|12 can only expressed as an irrational measure, because you can't divide a quarter-note into just 3 triplet eighths. That same 5|12 measure could be written as a measure of 5|8 with an 8th note tempo 3 times faster than the original quarter-note tempo, but I feel that would be just as confusing for a performer to read. Both options present problems, but only for sight reading purposes. I think it also goes without saying that music that uses irrational meter is not intended to be sight read perfectly (if at all). At the end of the day it is up to the composer to choose which method best communicates their idea to the performer in the cleanest notation possible. 


Tune in next week for a discussion on nested tuplets, how to break them down, how to create them and some thoughts on why a composer might use nested tuplets. 

Until next time!

    

 

 

       An initial question one might ask when looking at these scores is why choose this method of notation over traditional notation. What does the composer gain from taking this approach? What does the performer  gain from this notation? Does the notation really accomplish something different than traditional notation, or does it just serve to complicate the learning process and performance experience for the performer? In addition to providing the performer with a completely foreign notational concept, the counterpoint of the physical actions is incredibly intricate and the presentation of the score is often highly complex and difficult to decode. So, why do this?


      My response to these questions is that music of this nature really can’t be notated any other way. Take a piece like Recoil, in which the bow pressure and direction have their own rhythmic line while the left hand is changing pitches with different rhythmic patterns, often completely separate from bow changes. At the same time the performer is asked to play the same pitch patterns on different strings. To notate the resultant sound of those actions would be close to impossible. Even if one were to notate that resultant sound, would it be less complicated than Cox’s notation? What if the desired result is impossible to notate? Richard Barrett’s piece EARTH for trombone and percussion (shown above) uses a similar notation that Cox uses in Recoil. The trombonist reads multiple staves that display slide position and the partial to be played. At certain times the slide position and partials do not align rhythmically, just as the left and right hand don't always align in Recoil. How could a composer notate the sonic result of that kind of physical action? More importantly, how would the performer know exactly how to produce that resultant sound? In this situation, there is no clearer way to notate the music than by describing to the performer the physical actions necessary to produce the music.


        Another argument in favor of this type of approach is that all notation is really just a system of abstract symbols. We can attach any meaning we want to those symbols and realize them in any fashion we feel necessary in order to achieve our artistic goals.. In the situation of Cox’s Recoil he uses traditional notation, and prescribes a new meaning to what the rhythms and symbols represent, as does Barrett. Lachenmann takes a fully graphical approach with his piece Guero (shown above), wherein the graphic images represent the motions of the player and position of the hands on the keyboard. Cassidy’s The Crutch of Memory (shown above) uses both standard and graphic notation, all of which is representative of movement rather than sound. Really, this is a similar approach to tablature for stringed instruments, which uses numbers to represent fret positions and staff lines to represent strings. Some composers, including Aaron Cassidy, refer to their scores as using tablature notation. Tablature also does not provide the performer with the resultant sound, but instead with the physical placement and motion of their hand(s). Going back to the opening paragraph of this post, the performer is instructed how to play, not what is heard.


      There is a lot more that can explored concerning this topic, and other types of nontraditional approaches to notation, too, but this post is intended to just be an introduction on the topic. If you’re a musician interested in this method of composer/performer interaction, I strongly encourage you to explore some of this music through listening, analysis of these pieces, and even try to play some of these works if you’re feeling adventurous! If nothing else, it will give you a new perspective of all the physical action(s) of performing music, even something as straight-forward as a simply notated melody.