Friday, 26 April 2013

Contemporary Commitment

Contemporary Commitment, Classical Music Magazine, February 2012
900 Words



The Royal Opera House has announced its plans for new opera, outlining a set of radical new works to take us up to the year 2020. The plans are presented as part of Musical Director Antonio Pappano and Director of Opera Kasper Holten's striking new stance, which affords new work a central role in the formation of the Royal Opera House's identity; where “New work is not and should not be at the periphery of our programme, but right at the core of what and who we are”.
More than 15 new operas will be performed on the main stage and at the Linbury Studio theatre, from composers including Turnage, Adès, Weir, Herbert, Eichberg, Haas and Chin; and on themes ranging from the myth of Faust, the sexually subversive Les Liaisons dangereuses and responses to a set of questions developed by the philosopher Slavoj Žižek. The Opera House also announced a new set of relationships to be forged throughout the decade, including more co-productions which link across international venues, new opportunities for emerging composers and more opportunities for academic credentials in opera making with Guildhall School of Music and Drama.
Plans made so far have not looked for a streamlined type of commission, but for a range of composers and librettists from different backgrounds united by one artistic vision and a “true flair for opera”. Holten hopes this new direction will be a step towards current practices in Finland, where operatic premieres are not an aside to canonic repertoire but the unmissable event of the season.
2013/14 will kick off to a shocking start with Australian composer Ben Frost and Scottish writer Iain Bank's directing an adaptation of his own cult novel The Wasp Factory – a dark and disturbingly intimate portrait of a teenage psychopath who commits a series of ritualized acts of monstrous cruelty. Commissioned by Bregenz Festival's Art of Our Times programme, the work will be a Royal Opera House co-production with Hebbel-am-Ufer, Berlin, Holland Festival and Cork Midsummer Festival,
To parallel The Royal Opera's revival of Gounod's Faust, 2013 will also see two responses to the Faust myth for the Lindbury Studio Theatre: a collaboration between Luke Bedford and Scottish playwright David Harrower, and a piece by British sound artist Matthew Herbert which integrates cutting-edge technology into the fabric of the musical score. In 2014/15 the Lindbury will be host to a new opera by Philip Glass, based on Franz Kafka's unfinished masterpiece The Trial, co-commissioned by Music Theatre Wales and Houston Grand Opera. A new “thriller” opera written for chamber ensemble by composer Søren Nils Eichberg and librettist Hannah Dübgen is also commissioned for 2015.
Thomas Adès's eagerly awaited next large-scale opera will be performed at the Royal Opera
House in spring 2017. The work is based on Buñel's film The Exterminating Angel, which charts the disintegration of social relationships when guests at a dinner party become psychologically trapped in the same room. The work is a commission from the Royal Opera House and a number of international partners including the Saltzburg Festival.
Towards the end of the decade we will also see an adaptation of Max Frish's play Count Oederland by Judith Weir working with librettist Ben Power, a commission from composer George Haas and librettist Jon Fosse, Morgon og Kveld (Monring and Evening) based on his novel of the same name; and a new main stage opera from Unsuk Chin who, following the success of his Alice in Wonderland will adapt Alice Through The Looking Glass with librettist David Henry Hwang.
To celebrate the iconic year 2020, The Royal Opera House has challenged four leading composers from different countries to create large-scale works for the main stage. Kaija Saariaho (Finland), Mark-Anthony Turnage (UK), Luca Francesconi (Italy) and Jörg Widmann (Germany), will all create individual responses to a set of questions developed in collaboration with Slovene philosopher Slavov Žižek including 'What preoccupies us today?' and 'What are the collective myths of our present and future?'
Operas for family audiences are also programmed: a childrens' opera by Mark-Anthony Turnage is to be directed by award-winning director Katie Mitchell for December 2015, and composer Julian Philips and librettist Edward Kemp will premiere a work for Christmas 2013.
Holten and Pappano also announce exciting plans for those nearer the start of their careers, responding to the lack of organised pathways for those seeking careers in opera creation. In collaboration with Guildhall School of Music and Drama, later this year The Royal Opera is to launch a Masters' progamme in Opera Making, and a new doctorate in opera composition, the result of which will be a new opera to be performed in 2016. An annual collaboration with Aldeburgh Music and Opera North is also to be launched for the 2013/14 season, which will commission first operas from promising composers to celebrate the legacy of Benjamin Britten.
This bold new direction should offer relief to those worried about the future of such a demanding medium in a tough economic climate. The road to 2020 might not be an easy path,
but Holten makes it clear that this bold and optimistic vision is in fact the only solution: “Risk taking is more important than ever before. If we didn't have the courage to make new work, then would we really deserve public subsidy? If you let the crisis into your heart, you risk becoming the crisis.' Surely new work – sculpted from the sweat and toil of today's best creative minds in reaction to the hopes and fears of our own lifetime – is the best way to prove opera's enduring relevance to the people of today.


Tuesday, 15 January 2013

In Two Minds: A Biography of Jonathan Miller

In Two Minds: A Biography of Jonathan Miller 
By Kate Bassett, Oberon Books
350 Words

If there was ever a man to make even the best of us look at our professional output with a distinct sense of dissatisfaction, it has to be Jonathan Miller. Despite loathing the term, Miller is Britain's best-known polymath and has shone across the board as a doctor, humorist, TV presenter, theatre and opera director, author, and sculptor.
No stranger to dissatisfaction himself, In Two Minds presents a portrait of a man who has been torn by the conflicting pull of his many-faceted ability almost as much as he has used it to dazzle spectators. His foible, it appears, was to abandon his deep-seated desire to make a solid contribution to neuropsychological research for the “footling flibbertigibbet world of theatre”, which whisked him away through the success of Beyond The Fringe, in a “cocaine-like snort of celebrity and approval”.
The book is a remarkably candid portrayal of Miller's accomplishments and failings.
Starting from unrecognisable beginnings as a nervous, pallid and otherwise unremarkable child, colourful anecdotes narrate Miller's remarkable transformation into a precocious schoolboy and high-flying Cambridge medic.
The book charts his ascent to the dizzying heights of theatre – The Old Vic, Kent Opera and the ENO. Here, pioneering what has been dubbed the 'time-shift opera', Miller dragged opera away from traditionalists (or “disgusting opera queens”) to revive works in new cultural settings; always with a refreshing naturalism and acute insight into human behavior.
It also charts the hangover: Miller's extreme sensitivity to bad reviews, his restlessness, his frequent threats to forever leave the world of theatre, and, of course, the doctor he left behind that has forever plagued his conscience.
In Two Minds is a very pleasant ride. It trots along lightly with a diligent attention to detail, although Bassett's own conjectures and ruminations are sometimes unconvincing. This aside, the book is successful in reaching to the heart of why we cherish Miller as a man who has spoken his mind, set his own traps; who wonderfully combines highbrow and lowbrow tastes with the panache of a true maverick. Overall, In Two Minds is a rich and earthy portrait of a very human man.


Monday, 7 January 2013

Feature: Indie Scenes

For Classical Music Magazine, December Issue 2012
1400 Words



'Indie classical.' What is the fuss about? Half a year after its application to 31 year-old American composer Nico Muhly, the term is still sending aftershock waves ricocheting around the blog-o-sphere.
'Indie' (an abbreviation of the term 'independent') has long been used to describe the types of popular music signed by record labels that operate outside of the mainstream. Much like the term 'classical', it is a large umbrella bracket with undefined edges, and, much like the majority of terms applied to composers alive enough to contest them, it has not been coined without a fight.
The main objection (voiced by Muhly) is that the term is too vague to be useful, and was only brought about by journalists and PR pro's eager to herald music another new future. This view is understandable when we consider that 'indie classical' has largely been used to describe a set of attitudes to musical styles, rather than styles themselves; and even more understandable when we see that that attitude isn't really that 'new', but harks back to the 60's philosophies of Reich and Cage.
Various writers on the topic in America have drawn different emphases, but they largely observe: an open and experimental attitude to genre, (often including collaborative work with popular artists and use of minimalism); that artists record works themselves or release works on independent record labels; and that they largely perform works outside of the concert-hall.
If we look for this in London, we find a rich and vibrant underground scene where young classical musicians are stamping their own style on an intersection of culture. With little funding, the scene only survives through the sweat and blood of its supporters, which also presents sense of community: organisations often help one another out, united by their shared aesthetic aim.
Nonclassical is the organisation in the driving seat. Founded in 2003 by Gabriel Prokofiev (grandson of Sergei), it is an independent record label and monthly club-night held in a Hoxton pub The Macbeth.
Nonclassical often steals the spotlight as pioneering London's out-of-the-concert-hall scene yet before this came Richard Lannoy's & Jan Sodderland's night Subvision which began 6 years earlier, running from 1998 – 2007 in Chalk Farm. With Lannoy a fresh composition graduate from the Academy and Prokofiev stepping back from the world of dance music to return to his classical roots, both nights looked to bars and pubs as the most economic way to get their music out in the open. This was motivation too for Will Dutta, whose similar project Blank Canvas sprang up as a bi-annual event in 2007, as part of his company Chimera Productions.
For all, the casual atmosphere provided a way of introducing their 'non-classical' friends to their music by presenting it in a 'popular' format. “I market Nonclassical the way in which I would market a band,” states Prokofiev, who promotes Nonclassical through flyers and posters that blend in seamlessly with the bold graphic styles of the East London independent music scene.
All three cite the relationship between contemporary classical music and electronic dance music as a formative influence, reflecting a niche current that emerged in the 1990's. Whilst traditionally held entirely separate worlds, projects such as Steve Reich's Reich Remixed (where compositions were remixed by series of dance DJ's and producers), helped fuse the repetitive structures and melodic over-lay of dance music and post-minimalism, and the birth of Intelligent Dance Music saw electronic dance and contemporary classical unite under the same horizon: sonic exploration.
Electronic dance music maintains a strong presence in most Nonclassical releases, contrasting and complementing a wealth of contemporary classical performers such as Kazak virtuoso violinist Aisha Orazbayeva, The Elysian Quartet, and percussion ensemble Powerplant; and composers such as funk-inspired Tansy Davies, sound-designer Nick Ryan, Richard Lannoy, and, of course, Gabriel Prokofiev himself.
Prokofiev's composition bears the marks of his background as a dance and grime music producer: as Gabriel Olegavich, Prokofiev is behind a multitude of house albums composed and much of rapper Lady Sovereign's last two albums. His most recent release is the suite 'Cello Mutitracks' written for cellist Peter Gregson (to perform with multi-tracked versions of himself). The gem of the suite is Jerk Driver: a punchy number driven by a strong grime pulse (where a 4/4 metre is split into quavers: 123,123,12) with percussive techniques which cello's full sonic palette, and with a main theme which takes its musical material from the hands-in-the-air refrains of 90's rave culture.
As if this mash-up of genres wasn't enough, after recording, a selection of DJ's, composers and producers are invited to remix the compositions, to create a set of tracks which are also released on the album. These range from ambient, subtle soundscapes, through to house-remixes and electro-pop. Whatever the style, the emphasis is on a creative approach more akin to 'recomposition' than 'remix'; as communications assistant Sam Mackay states: “We're about taking the motifs, chopping them up and making them into something new, rather than slapping a bass drum over the original.”
Sounds afforded by electronic dance music also form a vocabulary for Blank Canvas's Will Dutta's own compositions. His first album Parergon – released on “independently spirited” label Just Music in May 2012 – sees shimmering electronic textures overlay piano motifs, creating delicate, haunting tonal soundscapes.

At both Nonclassical and Blank Canvas events, the programming retains an emphasis on the experimental. Nonclassical's monthly nights at The Macbeth aim to represent the wide field of contemporary classical composition, featuring mainly (but not exclusively) performances from conservatoire trained musicians in live 20-minute sets. These are interspersed with DJ slots (often performed by Richard Lannoy) which play a range of Musique Concrète, American Minimalism, sometimes remixed with a house (dance) beat underneath, and, of course, remixes off the Nonclassical label.
Sometimes Nonclassical nights celebrate a work with particular significance to experimental music, with eclecticism sill high on the agenda. May's 'Pierrot Grenade: 100 years of Pierrot Lunaire', featured a performance using five Pierrots, from renowned interpreted Jane Manning and extended vocal techniques specialist Lore Lixenberg to heavy metal frontman-cum-contemporary composer Adam De La Cour.
For Blank Canvas, unusual genre-combinations have been a hallmark from the offset. Dutta burst on the scene in 2005 with an event (later to become Blank Canvas) for which he commissioned Nonclassical's Prokofiev to unite contemporary classical with hip-hop in the Concerto for Turntables & Orchestra – a project which brought together DJ Yoda and the Heritage Orchestra for a sell-out performance, and went on to be performed at the BBC proms.

For those wondering, opera hasn't been left off the independent agenda. Carmen Elektra, founded by Cambridge students in March 2010, moved to London, post-graduation, and into converted warehouse The Bussey Building in recently-gentrified Peckham. The latest instalment featured Timberbrit: Jason Cooper's opera involving Brittany Spears (Lucy Cronin) in the throws of a psychotic breakdown, whilst her former lover Justin Timberlake (Josh Bevan) attempts to win back her affections.
The work – which takes various songs by the two featured pop stars, and slows them down digitally beyond recognition – bridges the popular and classical worlds in an a way which does not attempt to find a middle-ground, but, apparently, uses it as a springboard for musical experimentation. And we can expect more of this to follow: the format of Carmen Elektra is similar to that of Nonclassical, where sections of live performance are interspersed with DJ sets, although the aim for further performances is to find a way whereby DJ sets will be fully integrated into a seamless whole.

Slightly off the contemporary classical kilter, but with a similar ethos is Cafe Oto, which has been operating in East London's Dalston since it was launched by Hamish Dunbar and partner Keiko Yamomoto in 2008. 'Oto' means sound or noise in Japanese, and unlike the other organisations mentioned, Cafe Oto does not want to be associated with just one musical scene, but showcases underground folk, improvised music, free jazz, and electronica – namely, music which wouldn't get as much of a focus anywhere else.
Oto's contemporary classical has, thus far, been highly successful. A recent sell-out, featured an evening of deep listening, including Pisaro, Cage and Saunders, played by Murmuration, a 40-strong ensemble who performed the works spread through the cafe, integrated with the audience.
And one last organisation which should definitely be given a mention is The Orchestra Project. Also known as The Rite of Spring Project, it launched in 2011 with a performance of Stravinsky's masterpiece in the alternative venue of Peckham Rye's Multi-story Car park. The project also does outreach work around Peckham, to introduce classical music to school children who might not otherwise get a chance to hear it.
All in all, it's pretty evident that underneath the institutionalisedS granny-graphics and pomp and circumstance that classical music has occasionally tended to, contemporary classical is operating with a different cultural currency. I'm not normally one for copping out, but, hype? No spoiler: go and find out for yourselves.

Thursday, 27 September 2012

Concert Review: Prom 49. Haitink Reveals Brahms' Softer Side

Prom 49: 20/08/11, Emmanuel Ax and The Chamber Orchestra of Europe
 
Published on Bachtrack


In many senses, Brahms is a 'marmite' composer. He is rarely met with indifference. Whilst some glorify the power and force of his orchestral writing, others shy away from this Germanic 'heaviness'; whilst some idolize his ability to weave passages and themes through one another to culminate in fierce climaxes, others condemn a fragmented and 'academic' style of writing

Beginning his conducting career in 1958, Bernard Haitink has witnessed attitudes and approaches to Brahms change, evolve and contest each other over the latter part of the 20th century. For the 49th Prom of this summer's season – with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe and the piano virtuoso Emanuel Ax – Haitnik brought his mature perspective and fresh energy to the stage to conduct Brahms' Second Piano Concerto and Fourth and final Symphony.

Brahms's 2nd Piano Concerto was completed 22 years after its antecedent, whilst the composer was living in Pressbaum, near Vienna. In contrast to the 1st Piano Concerto, the work was met with warm approval, which became widespread as the composer brought the work to many European cities. Over 100 years later it is still a firm favourite in the canon, and a cornerstone work for pianists wishing to add Brahms to their repertoire. Under Haitink's baton, the work was exquisitely wrought. The Chamber Orchestra of Europe was extremely responsive to the subtle architecture he demanded from each phrase; the smaller ensemble more permissive to his tender, delicate tailoring.

Emanuel Ax describes the 2nd Piano Concerto as a 'work he learned many years ago and has tried to get right ever since.' He brought a firm yet vivacious tone to the sanguine first movement, keeping the opening chordal passages bright, revealing a slightly darker energy for the later parts of the movement that veer towards an ominous state of tension. Melodic passages were given a full, expressive legato, whereas transitional passages were neat and trim, moving the music forward. Haitink did not pull the tempo around as much as is now customary, although sometimes clipped faster passages to give a greater bite. The haunting second movement, with juxtaposition of permissiveness and impetuous zeal, was also slightly reserved. The third movement revealed the strengths of the chamber ensemble, where the slightly grittier string textures one finds within a smaller ensemble gave a rarely heard edge, and the beautiful cello solo shone through the other part writing with a distinct elegance. The fourth movement was more satisfying in relation to what had come before, pulling the strands of melodic fabric together in a heady climax.

However, despite the success of the finesse with which the work was performed, there was a distinct feeling of reservation which worked against the expressive potential of the music. It was apparent that the concentration was on the polished surface of each phrase, rather than on its emotional kernel. The work never forgot itself or properly let go even in the the finale and therefore never reached the point where it transcended itself, or surrendered to our modern conception of 'true' romantic passion.
The 4th symphony, was distinctly more satisfying. Completed in short proximity to his 3rd, the two are often treated as a complementary pair, although it is the 4th that is considered the more musically ingenious. On completion, many found the taut structure of this intricate tapestry of motifs difficult to accept, although the material still asserts a sense of spontaneity and profound emotional depth.

The luscious harmonies and melodic surfaces that comprise the first two movements of the Symphony were undoubtedly more suited to Haitink's conducting style. But also, there was less of a sense of the 'tightness' that had dominated the first performance, and the orchestra seemed more at ease; caught in the motions of Brahms's writing. The third movement was light and crisp, with something of a buoyant, fresh, 'Britishness' about it. Phrases were lifted, spun out, then lingered ever so slightly before returning back to their starting point. The fourth movement convincingly fulfilled the previous movements; it felt fresh and organic, yet Haitink's foot was still touching the brake slightly; the climactic melodies from the string section were unified by a sense of strength rather than fervour.

Although more expressive than the second piano concerto, there was no sense of the passionate abandon that most Brahms lovers seek from his work. In this sense, the concert posed a pressing question with regards to the role of lighter, more historically appropriate interpretations of romantic composers. Although there is undoubtedly a value and historical interest as to the conditions and cultural environment that Brahms would have written under, as a performance to a modern audience who have been shaped by the cultural conditions of the 20th century, what can this now reserved interpretation give? For those of us who have learned to appreciate the gargantuan scale of modern orchestral composition, a truly romantic rendering of any composition is no longer going to evoke the listener in the same manner. However, for a precisely-tailored and accurate portrayal of the composer, that may help cross the marmite divide and lend appeal to Brahms' softer side, Bernard Haitnik's rendition was incomparable.

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Concert Review: Die Fledermaus

Die Fledermaus 
West Road Concert Hall, Thursday 23rd February – Saturday 25th February, £10/£16
★★★★☆


Last night the curtain opened to the operatic event of the year: Cambridge University Opera Society’s production of Die Fledermaus. Composed by Johann Strauss II in 1894, this light operetta takes its audience for a whirling waltz through Viennese aristocratic culture in a glitzy three-act tribute to the ballroom and its accompanying pleasures.

CUOS’s modern day equivalent was set in London, where the cast formed a Made in Chelsea-style network of wealthy twenty-somethings, ugg boots and all. The production used Alistair Beaton’s English translation, giving the audience a break from faffing with the libretto.

It was a five star performance from each member of the cast. Each actor made their character their own, and balanced slapstick humour and tomfoolery with a sense of earnestness and genuine appeal to human nature. Sam Oladeinde was an endearing and exuberant protagonist as Gabriel Von Eisenstein; Margaret Walker made a sultry yet steely Rosalinde – a part which is hard to give life to in the modern interpretation. Grace Durham’s trouser role, the Russian host Prince Orlovsky, was vivacious and accurate down to the last mannerism. Falke (Nick Mogg), Chief Inspector Frank (Iwan Davies), and Dr Blind (Henry Neill) were strong in their supporting roles. James Swanton took the caricature to new heights in his speaking part as the old jailer Frosch, and Peter Aisher played the thoroughbred Italian lover Alfredo with a perfect accent and bodily gestures.

Certain cast members stood out for their superb technical ability and musicality; Margaret Walker exhibited outstanding stamina and control, and Aisher’s tenor voice was outstandingly rich and resonant for someone of his age. The star of the show, however, had to be Kristi Bryson for her portrayal of the maid Adele. Byrson showed an outstanding level of vocal agility, and oozed an effortless yet vibrant theatricality in her role’s transformation from cockney sweetheart – “Buskers! Oi, you, bugger off and find a job!” – to an elegant charlatan actress.

The orchestra started off rather sluggish during the overture, but warmed up through the performance to deliver the crisp light steps and the lilting melody lines of the Waltz as we love and know them. The choreographed parts worked well, making a nice visual interlude and giving the chorus a chance to be more animated rather than static in the background. Musical director Alex Beetschen’s conducting was articulate and buoyant throughout the performance, although it was a little bit too school boy-clean. A deeper rendition would have loosened the reigns on the tempi and dynamic a little to air the darker, sharper crags that lay under the thin veneer of the Vienese high-life.

The disappointing element was definitely the set. The bridal staircase in the second act was unimaginative but at least pleasing to the eye; the final act attempted to be morbid but was uninspiring. The boudoir set of the first act, however, looked completely and utterly amateur: like a spare room decked out with Next items, circa 2003. There was no visual cohesion between any of the scenes, and the costumes were none too impressive. It seemed a bit of a let down considering other elements of the production, including the posters and programme notes had been so professional.

All in all, though, the audience loved it. And why shouldn’t they? This was Johann Strauss II exactly as he should be: dry, light, fine and sparkling. I’ll drink to that.

Essay: Socialising Analysis Through Postmodern Knowledge



Socialising Analysis Through Postmodern Knowledge
(MPhil Submission, Lent Term 2012)
3500 Words

The 20th Century saw the study of music predominantly focused on the study of Western Art Music through analyses which took as their starting point the 'music itself'– interpreting the structures of a work, together with their resolution into relatively simpler elements, to show how harmony and motives work together to form a unified whole. From the late 1950's onwards, the quasi-scientific field of music theory and analysis underwent rapid expansion and professionalisation in North America, 'music theorist' becoming an esteemed professional identity (Everett Maus 2004: 14). Although there are certainly agreed upon methodological 'tools' (i.e. the parameters of the music itself), there are many accepted, differing methodologies.1
Joseph Kerman's seminal publications How We Got Into Analysis and How To Get Out (1980) and Musicology (1985) began a substantial weakening of faith in the methods of analysis, and a shift in focus towards the 'cultural' values to which it has, by custom, dichotomously opposed itself. In this essay, I will take the look at the contributions of two authors who helped shift musicology out of the analytic paradigm by borrowing ideas from literary theory, whether to present a method of discussing social context – Lawrence Kramer's Classical Music and Postmodern Knowledge, or to present a different model of how we may look at the 'music itself' – Rose Rosengard Subotnik's Deconstructive Variations. I will use these texts to illustrate issues raised by the paradigm shift, and to suggest ways in which these problems, which are still pertinent today, may be resolved.

In the first chapter of Classical Music and Postmodern Knowledge, Kramer accuses analysis as having, in its “zealous will to truth” promoted the “rhetoric of impersonality into an epistemological first principle”, and states that within musicology, the concept of knowledge needs to be re-situated within the historicity of human subjects and their discourses (Kramer 1992: 2). Kramer 'undoes' analysis's rational foundation by asserting that by adopting a scientific manner and presenting its results as objective, analysis disguises its roots in the subjectivity of the analyst and makes implicit the value judgments on which it constructs its claims to knowledge. “For what if”, Kramer asks, “interpretations are...contestable, historically conditioned forms of knowledge?” (my italics). This position is supported by many later musicologists, who have gone even further in trying to show that the 'purist' techniques of analysis have a strong root in the ideology surrounding the Western concert tradition and the culturally constructed notion of instrumental music as transcendental (Levy 1987, Tomlinson 2003).
Kramer proceeds to argue for a musicology that makes the historical – with all its contingencies, subjectivities and cultural constructs – an object on which to focus rather than deny. He outlines scope for engagement with feminist theory, popular culture, psychoanalysis, deconstruction, the histories of sexualities and other forms of postmodern knowledge. The essential principle of Kramer's musicology is that it should be a 'dialogue of listening' between critic and the composer, who provokes questions by making their music behave in a certain way, and trusts the listener to hear the music within a field of rhetorical, expressive, and discursive behaviours. He states this is especially appropriate to 'representative' music; representation is one of the sites where culture enters music, and music enters culture. In his third chapter, Kramer presents a detailed analysis of Haydn's The Creation, using both Schenker and Tovey to help elucidate the manner in which Die Vorstellung des Chaos conveys its representation of the origins of the universe, accounting for the appropriate musical parameters. For example, Kramer takes the use of melody to be appropriately fragmentary (as one might expect in a partly-formed universe) and also locates a 'chaos motive': three notes ascending a minor third in a double dotted rhythm (e.g mm.22-24). He explains how Haydn treats the motive to explicate chaos's urgent desire to be lifted into the cosmos, but also to thwart their aspirations, as they greet the cadences in bars 39 and 49.
Kramer’s notion of 'subjectivity' here and in the rest of the book becomes obfuscated and problematic in its application. For all his apparent understanding of the problems of the enlightened postmodern academic, he appears to limit discussion of the (co-dependent and co-extensive) relationship between subject and object only to disciplinary classifications of knowledge – equating 'subjectivity' with the cultural and historical, in marked opposition to the 'objective' which he relates to quantitative and quasi-mathematical data. Although initially he undercuts the traditionally conceived notion of objective by pointing out its origins in subjectivity, he takes up the same authorial stance and manner of looking at the object that has traditionally been used by analysis. That is, although he considers 'extra musical' factors, he does so through from the perspective of someone who claims they have access to the music as it 'really is'.
Since not all of Kramer's arguments are fully justified by his musical examples (Pasler 1997), one could argue that a more nuanced application of postmodern knowledge would have been slightly more cautious in conducting a 'dialogue' with the music. For, without any semantic capacity of its own, music is inarticulate in refuting the meanings the theorist gives it.2 In Kramer's studies, the distinction between finding meanings and creating them is markedly obscure. This is demonstrated especially when he argues that the musical portrayal of 'chaos' extends towards a notion of 'limitlessness' he turns to quoting the literary theorist Slavoj Žižek, rather than providing a musical example as justification for his ideas. Behind this example lies a deeper epistemological issue: when discussing music, is there ever a distinct difference between meanings which are found and meanings which are made, or is there only a gradient? I will return to the role of social context later in this essay; to delve further into the complications postmodern theory illuminates between analysis, the academic, and the 'music itself', I will now turn to Rose Rosengard Subotnik's Deconstructive Variations.
The poststructuralist concept of deconstruction, engendered by Jaques Derrida, has no universally agreed upon definition or form of application. In fact, deconstruction is resistant to any notion that would 'fix' its interpretation, precisely because its 'central principle' (for lack of a more appropriate term) is what Derrida called Différance – the notion that there is always some difference, some delay, between the meaning intended in an utterance made by a subject, and the meaning received in its interpretation by another (Glendinning 2011: 54). The issue is more complex, vast and discursive than this small outline makes clear, but for the purposes of this essay, this does not matter: Subotnik makes no claim to provide a full account of any deconstructionist’s work; rather, the book is an account of the results of the application of certain 'deconstructive' ideas to a musical text.3
The chapter that most concerns us, entitled “How Could Chopin's A-Major Prelude be Deconstructed” presents two, in-depth readings of Chopin's Prelude op. 28, no. 7, which are incompatible: as Subotnik observes, “characteristically, a deconstruction results in (at least) two coherent readings of a single text that coexist but cannot be reconciled with each other” (Subotnik 1996: 66). The first, more 'congenial' reading – the one that Subotnik states the prelude “assigns priority to,” and therefore presents as the foreground layer of meaning – construes the prelude as a unified whole. It is divided into 'primary' material, which is tonally located in the key of A major, and 'supplementary' material, the climactic chord on the first beat of measure 12 (chord V of B major). The supplementary material is defined as such since the piece would still work as a composition if phrase 6, which contains the chord, behaved like phrase 2; although Subotnik is keen to remind us the chord is complementary, not inessential.
Subotnik claims the workings of the prelude “suggest themselves very powerfully... as a metaphor for free choice.” By rupturing the A major tonality, chord V of B (analogous to a subjective individual) effectively symbolizes the power of the freely acting subject to have an impact on its environment. Yet, through its identity as tonally different, it clarifies its own secondary status, and thus confirms the governing constructive role of the tonic, A, just as the freely acting subject depends on some united, governing, rational framework in order to render its actions intelligible.
In the second 'deconstructive' reading, Subotnik rips apart the unity she previously constructed. By replacing the tonal lens she uses to view the prelude with one that focuses on parameters our academic tradition may have conditioned us to marginalize, we can construe phrase 6 and the climactic chord it contains not as a consequential partner of phrase 5, but as itself, an antecedent. Thus, we may hear chord V of B-minor as a dramatic and rhetorical projection of strength, which is disjunct from the rest of the piece also in terms of its extended range, increased dynamic, and the fact that the chord is often performed slower tempo, and rolled (for pianists whose hands do not span a compound major third). In breaking the symmetry of the 'sensuous' antecedents and 'logical' consequents, the framework of order in the first reading is dissolved, and the prelude's is rendered contingent; a structure which, like human life, may or may not possess meaning.
There are a number of issues that arise from this interpretation. The first is similar to the problem encountered within Kramer's analysis: in her analysis she reaches outwards to explain the prelude in light of metaphoric associations it has no power to contest. In extension, Subotnik's interpretation (of both the two readings, and the relationship between phrase 6 and the rest of the musical material) as oppositional appears forced. A unified prelude and an un-unified prelude might be unreconcilable, but do they constitute a binary opposition? As Brian Hyer observes of deconstructive readings more generally, “deconstructionists sometimes force mere differences into oppositions in order to preside, triumphantly over their undoing” (Hyer 1998: 414).
The main issue, however, is illuminated by questioning whether Subotnik's readings actually are deconstructive. As I have stated, what deconstruction exactly is falls outside the boundaries of this essay, and Subotnik herself never claims to have presented an (again, for lack of a better term) authentic deconstructive model. Yet what Subotnik's analysis reveals is a weakening of faith in the tools of analysis: an unclear stance on which parameters should be used to dissect the prelude into its 'essential elements' (necessary in order to explain its inner workings). In both readings phrases are taken as stable constituent objects, with phrase 6 as the climax; however, phrase 6's classification as antecedent or consequent is dependent on whether we view the prelude in a predominantly tonal sense (as in reading 1) or whether we include the (traditionally secondary) parameters of range and dynamic. A third view, articulated by Brian Hyer in light of what he considers the prelude's 'terseness', is that there are not eight phrases but two (antecedent) phrases (with cadences). And Kevin Korsyn contends, in his survey of analyses of Prelude no. 7, and the rest of Opus 28, there are, in fact, four different ways of reading the preludes: as unified monads, with separate systems of internal workings, as nomads, as a cryptocycle, or as an ironic cycle, depending on which way each prelude's internal workings are defined in relation with the others' (Korsyn 2003: 101).
Implicitly demonstrated by the multiplicity of readings – whether contained within the work of a single “author” or not – is this: the results of analysis are dependent on the questions analysis asks, and the parameters through which it chooses to view the work. As Adam Krims has observed, those working within the field of New Musicology, despite their critical sophistication, often take for granted the essentialist premise that music analysis may reveal something objectively present in the 'music itself' (Krims 1998: 304). In this sense, Subotnik and Kramer's analyses are more structuralist than poststructuralist, but then so is all analytical theory: analysis itself seems to encourage us to essentialize analytical 'tools', whilst poststructuralist thought contests metalanguage and its essentialist tendencies, and tends to militate against methodological closure. Indeed, if there ever was a binary opposition that needed to be undone, it would have been between the 'objects' of analysis and their expression in language.

Are analysis and postmodern knowledge radically incompatible, then? Kofi Agawu argues: yes. Analysis needs neither cultural context or postmodern knowledge; theory works best when questions about its objects are consigned to the periphery, and when matters of social context form a separate discussion: “The musical text...together with an explicit methodology, form the basis of theorizing.” In this sense, analysis needs no justification and should carry on as it has done before (Agawu 1993: 89-98).
This barefaced rebutal resulted in a discursive stalemate with Joseph Kerman, whereby both theorists fought from positions constructed on different axioms, “misrecognizing the two disciplines dependency on each other, as they misrecognise the sources of their own identity”. Agawu undermines his argument by presenting a historical case for it, and Kerman tries to construct a unified identity for all historical critics by attempting to detach historical criticism from theory entirely, obscuring the identities of theorists he admires by reclassifying them as resembling something like a critic (Korsyn 2003: 88). Korsyn sets forth a list of reforms the academy should undertake to end the stand-off and let the two disciplines continue in parallel, with separate methodologies and separate concerns. By this, all of music's aspects would be represented through undertaking relative positions in a larger discourse with no singular or permanent centre.
However, what I propose as a better solution to Korsyn's notion of parallel paradigms is implicit within the writings of Kramer and Subotnik, but never brought to explicit attention: “[For] what if”, Kramer asks, “we see the music, not as the site where its contexts vanish, but precisely as the site where they appear?” In Kramer's “dialogue of listening” he does not undergo the process of listening to specific performances and documenting the results, but conducts a hermeneutic analysis of music as a text, and discusses it in relation to reminisces of performances he has attended previously, or vague, unspecified, imaginary performances. Likewise, although Subotnik points to issues within performance (the difficultly of the rolled chord for her small hands, the fact that performers often slow down as they approach it with dread), specific performances are not delineated.
However, refocusing on real performance events allows us to relate music to social and cultural forces in a more concrete manner. To take an obvious example, depending on their cultural conditioning, a performer may choose to roll the climactic chord in phrase 6 of Chopin's A-Major prelude or not; they may find the passage tricky and attempt it rather slowly; they may, even chose to play the phrase as a disjunct from the others which surround it, since personally, they understand the prelude to be a metaphor for the contingent nature of all human life and understanding.
Therefore, we should try and understand music by relating the specifics of a performance to the larger cultural contexts in which they are imbedded, for instance: styles, genres, performing trends and performance occasions. Undoubtedly this creates a more realistic vision of music's relation to the social and cultural than Kramer's; however, those who have written on it often fall into a similar interpretive trap. Writers such as Small (1998) and Attali (1985) take these microsocialities as the sole locus for theorising the social in music, idealizing them through a metaphysics of presence (Born, forthcoming). Accounts like this run the risk of determining the musical event as a product of social or ideological forces, when these “social forces” are what should be explained.
In advocating a performance approach, I am not stating that performance is any more resistant to the sort of interpretations music receives when conceived of as a text. However, performance does limit these types of interpretation through offering a solid and accessible contextual framework that we can study, empirically, through ethnography.
Nicholas Cook and Georgina Born's “Relational musicology” is a theoretical paradigm that advocates such an approach. Recent work within the field holds that meaning emerges in encounters between people, and is not wholly determined by the musical score, social structures or ideologies. Instead, these are seen to forge the conditions for the encounters in which culture is negotiated and reshaped by agents. Through a strong ethnographic approach which engages with individuals to study these negotiations in rehearsal and performance, and an assessment of findings it in relation to larger social theories, we find an empirically sound way of relating musical practices to their social and cultural context.
Born (2007) argues that it is productive to analyse music's myriad socialities in terms of four planes of social mediation: 1) Micro-socialities 2) Imagined communities 3) How it refracts wider social identity formations, and 4) Forces of production. This framework goes some way to eliminate reductive accounts of music's relation to the social by holding interactions between these planes (and the extra-musical factors that they incorporate) are irreducibly complex, and all four planes have the ability to animate music's aesthetic, ethical and political dimensions. The anti-reductionist gains of analysing both the autonomy of distinctive planes of music's social mediation and, thereby, cross-scalar relations between them include the potential for contradiction and disjunction. For performance does not only traverse wider social relations, but it has the ability to catalyse or act on them, to invert or contest hierarchical social orders. Genre, for example, is commonly explained as embodying an assured linkage to the politics of the communities that construct it (e.g. Negus 1999). However, this does not explain its power to affect either the reproduction of identity formations, or a redirection or novel coalition of such formations. Genre should therefore be analysed as an evolving constellation constituted by the mutual mediation between two self-organizing entities (music and identity formations), (Born, forthcoming).
Relational musicology advocates reshaping the boundaries of the epistemic field, revealing the concealed ideologies of individual branches, and extending other branches to form hybridized and multivalent approaches (Born 2007). In this sense, there is room here for analysis to be brought back into the picture, as well as occupying an isolated position within the field as Agawu and Korsyn suggest.
The manner in which analysis has previously aggregated with different methodologies has been problematic. Analytical methods have been used in ethnographies as a manner of recording performances. However, too often these transcriptions attempt to totalise the experience of the individual musicians making up the ensemble and abstracts it from the social processes in which it is embedded, creating a new reified text which translates rather than explains the experience (Cook 1999: 261). 'Structurally informed performance' (as urged by Berry or Namour) has also been problematic. It is prescriptive rather than descriptive in nature, and although it presents viable options it cannot justify why these are necessarily better than other options discovered through performing.
Cook defines the score not as a textual object with all its meanings located within it, but instead as a script for social interaction, which gives us only a certain amount of information to obey in performance, and leaves the rest as ambiguous, delegating decisions to performers who will negotiate to fix them for performance (forthcoming). Through this 'relational' paradigm, we can work towards creating different forms of analysis, which does not 'blindly' dictate performance methods, but poses questions to performance, and engages with responses. This approach also offers the capacity to shift analysis away from the purely tonal, and consider other important musical parameters, including those not present when we consider music as a text such as gesture and movement.
In conclusion, postmodern knowledge might not have taken musicology in the direction it originally intended, but opening musicology to literary theory and deconstructive approaches planted the seeds for the development of the study of music in relation to the social and cultural, and the expansion of analytical methodologies. In particular, I advocate Nick Cook and Georgina Born's approach of Relational Musicology, in light of its nuanced and realistic understanding of the complex relationship between music and the social factors it aggregated with, and its ethnographic focus on 'real' (rather than abstracted) forms of social and cultural knowledge. Hopefully, this will enable us to make a swifter shift away from the large body of introspective discourse characteristic of musicology's last twenty years and engage in a new yet enlightened focus on our “object” of study.
3434 Words. 
 
Bibliography:

Agawu, Kofi, “Does Music Theory Need Musicology?” in Current Musicology 53, special issue, Approaches to the Discipline, ed. Edmund J Goehring (1993) pp. 89 – 98

Attali, Noise: The Political Economy of Music, (Minnesota: 1985)

Born, Georgina, “For a relational Musicology: Music and Interdisciplinarity, Beyond the Practice Turn”, Journal of the Royal Musical Association, (2007) Vol. 135, no. 2, 205–243

Georgina Born, 'Music and the Social', in M. Clayton et al (eds), The Cultural Study of Music, 2nd edition,
(forthcoming: 2012).

Cook, Nicholas, Analysing Musical Multimedia (Oxford: 1998)

Cook, Nicholas,' Analysing Performance and Performing Analysis' Rethinking Music, Cook and Evereist eds., (Oxford: 1999)

Cook, Nicholas, Scripting social interaction: Improvisation, performance, and Western 'art' music'. In Improvisation and Social Aesthetics, ed. Georgina Born, Eric Lewis, and Will Straw. Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press (forthcoming)

Cook, Nicholas, 'Theorising Musical Meaning', Music Theory Spectrum, Vol. 23, No. 2 (Fall 2001), pp. 170-195

Everett Maus, Fred, 'The Disciplined Subject of Musical Analysis' in Andrew Dell'Antonio, ed., Beyond Structural Listening: Postmodern Modes of Hearing (Berkely and Los Angeles: 2004)

Glendinning, Simon, Derrida: A Very Short Introduction, (Oxford University Press: 2011)

Hyer, Brian, “Review: Deconstructive Variations: Music and Reason in Western Society by Rose Rosengard Subotnik; Classical Music and Postmodern Knowledge by Lawrence Kramer,” Journal of the American Musicological Society, Vol. 51, No. 2 (Summer, 1998), pp. 409 – 424

Kerman, Joseph, Musicology, (London: 1985)

Kerman, Joseph, “How We Dot into Analysis and How to Get Out,” Critical Enquiry 7, (1980), reprinted in Write all These Down: Essays on Music, (Berkely: University of California Press, 1999), 12–32

Korsyn, Kevin, Decentering Music: A Critique of Contemporary Musical Research, (Oxford: 2003)

Kramer, Lawrence, Classical Music and Postmodern Knowledge, (University of California Press: 1992)

Krims, Adam, “Disciplining Deconstruction (For Music Analysis)” 19th Century Music, Vol. 21. No. 3 (Spring 1998), pp. 297 – 324

Kramer, Lawrence, Music as Cultural Practice, 1800–1900 (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1990)

Levy, Janet M, 'Covert and Casual Values in Recent Writings About Music', The Journal of Musicology, Vol. 5, No. 1 (1987)

Littlefield, Richard, “The Silence of the Frames”, Music Theory Online 2, (1996)

Negus, Keith, Music Genres and Corporate Cultures (Routledge: 1999)

Pasler, Jann, “Review: Classical Music and Postmodern Knowledge”, Notes, Second Series, Vol. 53, No. 3 (Mar., 1997), pp. 756 – 761

Scherzinger, Martin, “The finale of Mahler's Seventh Symphony: A Deconstructive Reading” Music Analysis 14 (1996), pp. 1–25

Snarrenberg, Robert, “The Play of Différance: Brahms's Intermezzo, Op. 118, No. 2,” In Theory Only 10 (October 1987), pp. 1–25

Small, Christopher, Musicking: The Meanings of Performing and Listening (Wesleyan: 1998)

Subotnik, Rose Rosengard , Deconstructive Variations: Music and Reason in Western Society, (University of Minnesota Press: 1996)

Tomlinson, Gary, “Music, Anthropology, History”, in Middleton, ed., The Cultural Study of Music (Routledge: 2003)



1Analysis is reflective of modernist values more largely, in that it prizes the rational, the constantive, the quantitive, the scientific and the masculine.
2Nicholas Cook explores the complex interactions between music and text in 'Theorising Musical Meaning', Music Theory Spectrum, Vol. 23, No. 2 (Fall 2001), pp. 170-195
3The other attempts at applying deconstruction (which encounter the same problems) are: Snarrenberg (1987) Scherzinger (1996) Kramer (1990) Littlefield (1996).

Essay: Accessing the Sonic and the Social: An Evaluation of Methodological Shifts in the Ethnography of Performance



Accessing the Sonic and the Social: An Evaluation of Methodological Shifts in the Ethnography of Performance
(MPhil Submission Lent 2012)
3500 Words

In his 2001 article 'Between Process and Product', Nicholas Cook comments on a recent paradigm shift in musicological literature away from the textuality of the score and towards performance. Since the mid-eighties there has been a growing attention to performance within scholarship; the
landscape of literature on performance before this point has been described by Jonathan Dunsby as 'fluid' and 'fragmentary' (Rink: 1996: 253).
Within the study of music, Cook identifies the growth of interest as a response to tensions in the musicological field, namely, Goehr's challenge to the autonomy of the concept of the Western 'musical work' through a delineation of the problems inherent within its ontological status, and the New Musicology's recognition of the importance of discussing music in terms of its social context, but their ineffective attempts to locate it within the score through hermeneutic analysis. The shift can also be seen against the backdrop of the larger 'performative turn' within the humanities and social sciences more generally; the work of Richard Schechner, along with others such as Butler and Goffman establishing 'performance studies' as a discipline in its own right.
Performance studies call for a greater attention to phenomena as a processes, rather than texts or objects, and Cook's article serves as a call to arms in the development of a musicology of performance, for fuller, more detailed explanations of it as both a social and sonic process. Ethnomusicology, which has predominantly devoted itself to the study of other cultures – which have often been remote, previously undocumented, illiterate, or without a system of notation – is a discipline that has constantly been forced to engage with music and culture as a process rather than a text.
However, this is not to say that ethnomusicological scholarship has provided an easily identifiable process-based methodological archetype, which musicologists can now hope to utilize. On the contrary, despite their close engagement with the act of performance itself, previous ethnomusicological scholarship has often taken an analytical approach, utilizing the musical process for the formation of a text through the act of transcription. Transcriptions which too often attempt to totalize the experience of the individual musicians making up the ensemble and abstract 'music' away from the social processes in which it is embedded, creating a new reified text (Cook 1999: 261).
It is not the mere difference between process of music making and the text produced that is the problem. As Dunsby states, the event and its documentation are not the same and never can be (Dunsby 1996: 97); one cannot hope to capture music – a present, performed experience, a 'living art' existing only in time – in verbal discourse (or indeed, notation) because of the unbridgeable epistemological gulf between the two (Rink 1996: 256). The problem, within certain types of scholarly methods including transcription is that they merely translate the performative experience, rather than explaining it.
Therefore, the aim of this essay is to evaluate certain key publications within the ethnomusicological literature, with an emphasis on methodology, acknowledging their contributions but also pointing out the ways in which they could take further steps to achieve a fusion between process and product – not one which transcends the boundaries of language or analysis: such a coalescence is unobtainable – but one that attempts to get closer to the musical event in both its social and sonic dimensions.
As a result of the shift of emphasis, many of these publications broaden the scope of musicological research has been extended to include document pedagogy, rehearsal, performance and the linguistic and gestural communication instrumental playing included within these practices. I shall delineate points whereby further scholarship would be beneficial where relevant.

In her 2001 article 'Towards an Ethnomusicology of the Early Music Movement: Thoughts on Bridging Disciplines and Musical Worlds', Kay Kaufman Shelemay advocates an approach which accounts for the social function of musical performance through ethnographic methods which give access to the study and experience of musical act and sound (2001: 3)
The article takes certain issues, central to the functioning of the Boston Early Music Movement – including distinctions between amateurism and professionalism, specialist performers and ensembles, uses of particular instruments, musical values and performance practices – and works small details into larger themes, situating them in a broad social context. However, although Shelemay paints an extensive and detailed picture of the movement as a whole, her use of ethnographic methods can be seen as falling short of her original aim – to access the experience of musical act and sound. Although she uses interview techniques to gain information about the meaning of the musical act to certain performers, the reflections she documents largely embody general points about musical style, (i.e. a reflection on what it might mean to be musically 'authentic') and do not talk directly about the musical act.
The one exception within the article illuminates musical phenomena which scholarship needs to address: “John was filling in the harmonies, but he was also inventing a third voice a lot of the time... there was some real invention going on in the keyboard playing, which doesn't get talked about much” (2001: 10) This quotation illuminates that clearly, if we are to understand music making in its experiential dimension, we need to extend ethnographic techniques to attempt to get closer to it: to explain the process and not just describe it.

In his seminal publication Thinking in Jazz: The Infinite Art of Improvisation, Paul Berliner undertakes this very task, using an ethnographic approach to explain the act of jazz improvisation in social and sonic terms. Whereas previous literature on jazz had often misrepresented the practice, 'mystifying' the act of improvisation and misrepresenting and marginalizing musicians through critical outsider perspectives which failed to see the music on its own terms (1994: 6), Berliner's ethnographic technique brings him closer to an emic perspective on the process of improvisation. He weaves together his informant's reflections on what they think they do during performance together with his own observations in order to de-mystify the processes Jazz musicians go through in order to develop the ability to improvise, confirming Dunsby's assertion that musicians “do not usually work in some sort of unreflecting trance”; instead they “think hard” (1996: 9). By encouraging reflection on the musician's practical and pedagogical engagements, Berliner elucidates the manner in which players gradually build up a vocabulary of harmonic gestures, which can be utilized in performance with increasing dexterity to create a 'dialogue' with other musicians. Berliner explains the relationship between improvised and pre-composed components of the artists' knowledge as cyclical: the improvised exploration of individual pitch combinations produces new vocabulary patterns which, when memorized, are transformed into pre-composed materials. When the soloist retrieves them in performance, however, they serve as improvisational elements that reintegrate in unique ways in the construction of phrases.
Berliner illustrates examples of these materials though transcriptions, ranging from basic building blocks for fashioning individual parts to extended group performances. Although Berliner provides us with the theoretical framework through which to understand the transcriptions in the main text of the book, there is definitely more scope for a fuller integration of musical text and the performer's reflection on the processes happening. Berliner states that the transcriptions are intended as guides for readers who may wish to immerse themselves in the original recordings (1994: 12). However, although the recordings are noted to be of important pedagogical value to Berliner's informants, a set of transcriptions which document the 'great' jazz standards – Booker Little, Miles Davis, and Charlie Parker amongst others – misses an opportunity to fully explain the repertoire from the perspective of those who perform it. In the latter transcriptions showing improvised group interplay, Berliner uses the picture of improvisation he has built up in the previous chapters in order to discuss the recording. However, although his detailed analysis gives us an insight into the music, it is predominantly descriptive rather than explanatory. Given that Berliner obtained some of the improvisational variants on the traditional repertoire through conversation with his informants, and learned the intricacies of jazz improvisation directly from the musicians themselves, performing and recording with a group he had organized (1994: 5) it is surprising that Berliner did not think it appropriate to record and transcribe various groups in practice, and use the method of the interview to present an explanation of stylistic choices and which tied details to larger theoretical frameworks he outlines: Part 2 of the book.
Berliner's account is outstanding in its extensive scope and the rigor with which it contextualizes the jazz tradition within wider cultural practices, and its seminal insights into jazz improvisation as a process. However, in terms of the objective I outline in my introduction, there is opportunity for development. For a greater synthesis to be reached, a higher degree of specificity is needed – reflections need to be made, pertaining to both social and sonic elements in relation to particular events, which can be displayed through musical notation and backed up by audio recordings, pertaining to Nicholas Cook's observation in Between Process and Product, that a “musicology of performance really demands the integration of sound, word, and image achievable through current hypermedia technology (2001: 29).

A perspective which embraces hypermedia technology, in order to document a successfully integrated account of music as a process, is Amanda Bayley's 2011 article 'Ethnographic Research into Contemporary String Quartet Rehearsal'. Bayley utilizes an audio recording of a rehearsal, concert performances, a filmed performance and photography, alongside the more traditional methods of interviews, questionnaires, observations in order to present a picture of the interactive and collaborative processes which take place between a composer and performers of his work. It documents the progress of Micheal Finnissy's Second String Quartet, from composition, through the rehearsal and performance process with the Kreutzer Quartet, and finally, to reflections on performance (2011: 386).
Although Bayley has broader research concerns, she states her primary objective is to discover more about how professional musicians structure their rehearsal time, and why they approach Finnissy’s piece in a particular way. Taking the audio recording of the rehearsal, Bayley uses a quantitative method to examine how much rehearsal time is spent on particular activities. She uses the 5 main categories taken from Davidson's and Good's (2002) examination of the social and musical co-ordination between members of a student string quartet in rehearsal and performance: social conversation, non-verbal social interaction, musical conversations, non-verbal musical interactions and musical interactions. Due to the predominance of the conversation, she breaks this down further, into more specific areas.
However, the problems inherent in such a method undermine its apparent precision. One issue, which Bayley recognises, is the level of simplification of the event that such a process entails when distinguishing between overlapping categories. For example, one conversation may have two objectives, such as solving a problem relating to technique and notation or to sound quality and technique. Furthermore, talking and playing often merge in rehearsal: if an instrument is utilized to produce sound within the conversation about another point, then should it be reclassified as musicking? Bayley points to an inherent methodological weakness when she admits that where musical and/or verbal interactions overlap or collide, the categorisation has been made according to what was most audible (2011: 396).
Most importantly, in terms of the research objectives, is that this type of analysis fails to explain music as a process. Bayley notes some of these quantitative analyses also fail to show the swift transitions between humour or chit-chat and playing; which points were made by whom, who was being directive, and interplay between musicians changed in the course of the rehearsal. As Bayley herself states: a graphic representation of data is a useful way of gaining a sense of the proportion of various elements that make up the rehearsal but has limited value because it fails to show how the rehearsal progressed (2011: 398) Moreover, although it may be useful to show that more time was spent doing certain activities, this is not a direct reflection of their importance.
However, extremely illuminating insights into the rehearsal process were made by qualitative analysis:
The first issue regards the function of metaphor in communicating the composer's sonic preferences to the performers: At the beginning of the rehearsal Finnissy chose metaphors such as ‘sort of saltier’, ‘frothier’ and ‘like spiders crawling’ to help describe the nature of the sound he wanted. In a later interview, he explained that such metaphors were not fixed, but that they emerged in relation to the sound that the musicians were already making. Bayley places this in a larger theoretical framework by pointing to Feld’s observation that metaphors categorize musical experiences in relation to similar or dissimilar experiences, to place an item or event in meaningful social space through ongoing interpretive moves. These moves do not fix or freeze a single meaning; meaning is emergent and changeable in relation to various combinations of moves made by specifically situated speakers (2011: 403).
However, although this theoretical framework gives insight, it does not provide us with an insider perspective, which may help explain the process of 'emergent meanings' in more specific terms. Although her research includes scripts of dialogue in the rehearsal process, and notes from a conversation with Finnissy, the perspectives of the performers are not interwoven into the main fabric of the article, but consigned to a detached section at the end. The documentation gained (a questionnaire, completed a month after the filmed performance) could not have been worked into a broader explanation, since the four players give differing and contradictory responses. In answer to the question ‘Are there important elements of the composition that Michael clarified in rehearsal which were not evident from the notation or other markings in the score? Please give details’, there was no consistent answer between players: two replied yes; two replied no. However, the specific responses conveyed different interpretations of similar themes, showing that given a more dialogic methodology, progress towards an insider's account of the process could have been attained. Heyde and Trandafilovski differed on whether they had understood Finnissy's metaphors to describe sound, or character and expression, and Sheppard Skærved’s negative response was ‘all of the important details are apparent; all that Michael did was to show that they were in front of us'. These comments suggest that there is a deeper discussion here to be had on the relationship between the score, sound, language and communication (2011: 406).
Another illuminating insight is provided through a discussion Bayley documents on coordination and movement: Finnissy’s compositional is (for lack of a better term) semi-indeterminate – a degree of freedom is composed into the parts for the explicit function of varying vertical alignment on each iteration as well as transitions between different sections of the piece. Towards the end of the rehearsal, Finnissy commented that he felt that the players had become too coordinated with the viola and cello parts, and that it was not producing the right effect. Finnissy wanted them to create “a feeling of initially not really being within reach, as if an unattainable plateau that they’re on and you’re desperate to reach it.” Once the players knew how the parts worked together, they had to find a way of ‘unlearning’ that knowledge, resisting the urge for highly co-ordinated playing to attain a controlled ‘un-coordination’, a style of performance determined by the composer’s intention for the character of the piece.
Bayley claims she was aware of the implications of the loss of visual information, but felt it important to only use audio in order not to impede or affect the rehearsal process. However, the lack of data on movement and gesture prevents her from working towards a theory of the nonverbal methods of communication, which would elucidate the way in which this co-ordination and un-coordination might take place.
Visual information is also of crucial importance to the discussion of Finnissy's metaphors, partly because the taped concert performance reveals that Finnissy consistently uses gestures as he talks to accentuate and refine his meaning, but also since the production of sound is dependent on the process of movement and thoroughly aggregated with the notions of 'expression' and 'character'. In fact, as I stated above, through the rehearsal process, Heyde took Finnissy's comments to pertain predominantly to expression and character rather than sound. Whilst much work has been written on the distinctions between the terms in abstract philosophical terms, a discussion of what they have meant in pragmatic terms, as 'discourse frames' for instrumentalists negotiating a rehearsal has not been fully documented.
Hence, although Bailey uses hypermedia documentation which Cook suggests can help us bridge the gap between process and product, she does not go far enough in seeking to relate the individual forms of collected data (the taped rehearsal, the filmed concert performance, the interview and the questionnaire) to one another. However, to rectify this I am not suggesting that Bailey should merely take her analytical approach further in positing interrelations – such an approach may induce dangerous level of abstract theorizing. I am positing we take an approach that places informants nearer to the center of the research, and encourages a dialogue through a method called video playback, predominantly used within music psychology.

In their forthcoming article “Exploring creativity in musical performance through lesson observation with video-recall interviews”, James, Wise and Rink (from hereon in referred to as James) utilize video analysis, to document specific moments of 'creativity' within the pedagogical engagement between teacher and student. Lessons are filmed and the footage is used as a memory prompt and participants are invited to talk in depth about their experiences. James contends this has the potential both to allow insights into their experiences that could not be gained from viewing the footage alone, and to facilitate participants’ conscious access to processes that they may not often think about or articulate, thereby “building an effective bridge between research and practice” (forthcoming: 2).1
The video-recall method is not without its problems. Firstly, as Bayley feared in her research, there is a chance that the presence of a camera will cause participants to act in a manner slightly different they would have done otherwise, however, this can be reduced by getting used to being on film. Secondly, although the use of video lessens participant's likelihood of forgetting details, misremembering, or interpreting things differently than reflection without video data might induce, seeing the lesson from a different angle and after a period of time, however short, introduces an inevitable element of interpretation in hindsight, and it is therefore possible participants can confuse revelations they have through reflection with revelations they had at the time (forthcoming: 26). However, a reflexive manner which does not make participants feel that they have to offer explanations to fit analytical categories demanded by the researcher and an acute scholarly look at the data which may identify erroneous comments, such problems can be minimized.
James's methodology gave the participants control over the research process, initially asking participants to select excerpts of tape they felt were important to the creative process. The advantage of this method is that it that it creates a directed but flexible structure which can cater for new questions and issues that emerge through the research process – the importance of which is demonstrated to be important by Bayley's research, and the unexpected impetus on metaphor and gesture.
Therefore, I propose that in future ethnographic research, the video-recall method should be utilized if relevant to create a bridge between product and process through discourse. Traditional ethnographic fieldwork methods such as the interview and the questionnaire will remain highly important for the initial observation issues which may become central to research and for collecting data to provide a cultural context for the research. However, a more detailed focus on the experience of music should use video recall both with musicians individually - to enable them to express their insights to the researcher away from the social pressures of the ensemble – and in a group context to enable participants to work towards a mutual understanding of the terminology used, and to avoid the incompatible conceptions of terminology found in Bailey's questionnaire approach, which prevents the construction of a more extensive conceptual framework. Results from individual interviews and group interviews should be compared and contrasted, with the possibility of re-interview either in a group or on an individual basis as a control method to ensure that terminology is being used consistently, and that group politics are not prohibiting reflection.
It will be necessary for researchers to undertake preparatory work in order to define research questions about the exact object of their study, and to refine the full methodological approach accordingly, yet they should be prepared for other research questions to emerge and aware that changing procedures to cater for these may produce more illuminating research. Research can perhaps best be presented in an essay format, with whichever supporting documentation is appropriate - scores, lead sheets, rehearsal charts, etc. - but access to full documentation of the recorded performances (or other) should be presented alongside to allow readers to contextualise academic observations. The written documentation should make specific references to the points in the video that are being discussed, either expressed in time, or with the possibility of larger-scale synthesis through computer programming. Imperative in research conducted with a significant focus on sound is that the quality of audiovisual data is as high as is possible, to ensure that reflections on sound quality are not misguided.
In conclusion, performance itself and its documentation may always be separated by Dunsby’s ‘epistemological gulf’, and performance practice may inevitably continue to be conditioned to a varying degree by a number of binaries, including performer and audience, creator and reactor, and subject and analyst. Yet the best way for scholarship to proceed is through an understanding of these differences not as dichotomies, but as positions of proximity and distance. This notion is made more lucid by Dunsby's assertion, that in performance there are no “pure doers” (1996: 49); language is constantly present as an inner monologue throughout our experience of music as both listeners and performers. Indeed, as Karol Berger states, “The hermeneutic element cannot be wholly banished from the arena of performance; there is no such thing as pure experience, uncontaminated by interpretation” (Berger 2005: 501) Therefore, the video-recall method is not only an attempt at 'translating' their sensual actions and feelings into words, (although undoubtedly this might form part the method); it is a report or 'second reflection' on thoughts, words, that they experienced at the same time as sensation and action.
In sum: by understanding music as a process, rather than as a product, and by taking an ethnographic approach which places musicians' emic perspectives at the centre of research in the aforementioned ways, we may gain a more complete understanding of music in its sonic and social terms.

Words: 3815





















Bibliography:

Bayley, Amanda, 'Ethnographic Research into Contemporary String Quartet Rehearsal', Ethnomusicology Forum, Vol. 20 No. 3, (2011) pp. 385-411

Berger, Karol, Musicology According to Don Giovanni, or: Should We Get Drastic?
The Journal of Musicology, Vol. 22, No. 3 (Summer 2005), pp. 490-501

Berliner, Paul, Thinking in Jazz: The Infinite Art of Improvisation (Chicago: 1994)

Cook, Nicholas,' Analysing Performance and Performing Analysis' Rethinking Music, Cook and Evereist eds., (Oxford: 1999)

Cook, Nicholas, 'Between Process and Product', in Music Theory Online, Vol. 7, No. 2, (April 2001)

Davidson, Jane W. and Good's James M. 'Social and Musical Co-Ordination between Members of a String Quartet: An Exploratory Study', Psychology of Music, Vol. 30, (2002), pp.186-201

Dunsby, Jonathan, Performing Music: Shared Concerns, (Clarendon Press: 1996)

James, M., Wise, K., & Rink, J. 'Exploring creativity in musical performance through lesson observation with video-recall interviews', in Scientia Paedagogica Experimentalis, (forthcoming)

Rink, John, Review of Jonathan Dunsby, Performing Music: Shared Concerns, in Music & Letters, Vol. 77 No. 2, (1996), pp. 253–7

Shelemay Kauffman, Kay, 'Towards and Ethnomusicology of the Early Music Movement: Thoughts on Bridging Disciplines and Musical Worlds', in Ethnomusicology, Vol. 45, No. 1 (Winter 2001), pp. 1-2
1See also: (Davidson & Good: 2002)