Monday, April 26, 2010

In the [Medieval] "Mittle"


It's about time that I vociferously slogan the wonderful work of In The Medieval Middle, a truly stunning set of Shenkerian-esque "unfoldings" about everything off-centered we find about the Middle Ages. Or is it time to topple the "Middle" from "Middle Ages," many of the posts argue, not in the least in our exciting age of posthuman scholarship. Rarely do critical medieval-middle-isms meet Musicologists; the latter are still wringing hands over the search for origins, and schema for structural, traceable, "historical" answers. As Jeffrey Cohen (famed for his truly original work on monsters and nonhuman medieval Others, not forgetting their Queer in/carnations for scholarship today) has constantly sought to befuddle our predilections for a "dark" Middle legible only by the light of empiricism, we constantly find our temporalities thrown into deep question when the "Middle," that is, the expositionary, the pulsative inching towards the "/" which enables presentness to be present, infiltrates and muddies the medieval me.

In celebration of (hopefully) another Rhizomatic flight path which "wraps" and imagines a kind of historical "embrace" brought on by contemporary "touch" theory, perhaps (in the spirit of D&G), I will contribute this first act of touching with not a history of music, but a musical history, already somewhat hinted at by Daniel Albright in his strange livret Untwisting the Serpent. My model considers the "flickering" that ensues within the vor-text of the "middle" via Schenkerianism - that (often difficult) mode of musical analysis which, at its perverse core of overdetermining the exactitude of individual constituent pitches in the musical score, disfigures the object itself in favor of a hegemonic "chord of nature" understanding - God's Claves, if you wish:



What draws me to Schenker is not his insistence on the "chord of nature," which supposedly exists only in the hintergrund (background), strenuously extrapolated from the Vordergrund (foreground), but the idea of the Mittelgrund (Middle-ground), that indistinct mediatory step which fluctuates between the despotic one-size-fits-all "chord of nature" and the particular, the full glory of the notated score itself. A musical history wedged in the Mittlegrund gestures uneasily towards both poles, while much more recent work recognizing the creative potential of Schenkerian analysis has re-emphasized the Mittlegrund for its d/r-econstructive potency. What's more - each "level" extrapolated from the score-trace is predicated on a series of chordal "unfoldings," a historical sense which, while seeking consonance between the Vordergrund und der hintergrund demands the analyst to eludicate linear patterns while molding the Mittlegrund to the contours of the Vordergrund.

A musical historical note then to medievalist/musicologists - what does an aesthetic of the medieval "mittle" propose? A reversion to the infinite nature of "unfoldings," to the rhizomatic understanding of the "Mittle" which, even as it acknowledges the insufficiencies of the present hintergrund, nevertheless avails the (analytical) possibility of rebuking it, while weaving a set of twisting-connective operations vis-a-vis the "textual," Vordergrund. If we can think music through history, why shouldn't we be able to think history through music? An aesthetics of the Medieval Mittle, perhaps, would respond to an "unfolding," "leading" quality whilst actively dealing with the manifold received "medievals" and "moderns." For the operation of Schenker's graph of the Mittle is not to lead-to, but to lead-for, to lead-in-lieu-of.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Ah! Cappella!

On Monday I was contacted by a Hartford Courant reporter who wished to conduct an interview regarding the rise in popularity of collegiate a cappella. And why should one feign an interest in this socio-economic (mostly university) phenomenon? From about 300 singing groups in New England, "a cappella," or, more accurately, its collegiate incarnation, has literally taken the US by storm. I myself am in two very different a cappella groups, Wesleyan's all-male The Wesleyan Spirits and another group I formed with three other individuals in my freshman year named The Mixolydians (you can conceive of all the bad puns by yourself).

But what exactly of a cappella music and its fresh, new faces? When one mentions collegiate a cappella, perhaps the first thing to bubble up to memory's surface is Tuft's Beezelbubs, thanks (or no thanks) to the highly popular, albeit sensationalized Sing Off program produced by NBC. Under the dazzling overexposure of glitzy lights and adoring fans, a cappella's new faces have somewhat trampled the memories of them good 'ol fraternity-like Glee Clubs and barbershop quartets so pervasive in the mid twenties. Less remembered, however, is that the association between "a cappella" and its modern counterpart was based on a mistaken attribution of the Roman Catholic Church in the 19th Century.

But first, back to basics. A-cappella; "cappella" meaning "Church" in Italian. The term first arose in the early 17th Century, denoting polyphonic music composed in the more "modern" concertato style as compared to the older Renaissance form of high counterpoint, exemplified by Palestrina. The surprising twist comes about in the late 19th Century when the Roman Catholic Church (along with a few non-Catholic music conservatists/museumists) attached special favor to the polyphonic repertory of the 16th Century. A cappella then came to connote music sung "without instruments," or so they believed, with Palestrina hilariously heroicized as its exemplar. And so, it is the latter definition we have inherited, although we've unwittingly knocked Palestrina off the pedestal again.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

BACK IN THE WORLD OF THE LIVING! (And anticipating MedRen 2010)

Dearest (fellow) Bloggo-musico-logists of the new world order,

I am pleased to announce that, countless sleepless nights, hundreds of edits and one soused episode of champagne overdose later, my Honors thesis is finally done, uploaded, and I'm back amongst the living. (And, saying that, I'm typing this from a tiny carrel). The lack of sunlight on skin has taken its toll, and I seem to gleam under the moon as well. But for anyone who's curious, I rolled out a thesis investigating musical ontologies of "beastliness" in our favorite fourteenth century source. Everyone repeat after me: Le Roman de Fauvel.



Curious? For all those with spare time (don't laugh...) you can access the FULL unrestricted thesis here:

HANSEL'S THESIS

... and get ready for some Horsey Musicology!

HELLO EVERYONE, it's nice to be back outside!

That said, this year's medieval and renaissance conference looks totally baller. Here are some of my favorite picks from the lineup:

Yossi Maurey: Singing the Praises of
God without Words: The Meaning of
Neumas in Medieval Liturgy

Andrew Hicks: Re-interpreting an
Arithmetical Error in Boethius’s De
institutione music (iii.14-16)

Ali Pemble: Timaeus and the Trumpet:
The Harmonizing Logos in Medieval Art

Timothy Chenette: The Role of Complex
Notation in Complex Rhythm of the Late
14th Century (YES!)

Jeffrey Levenberg: Ouds or Lutes?
“Fumeux Fume’s” Ficta Speculacion
(Finally, another voice about Fumeux Fume that isn't Lefferts)

Richard Parncutt: Historical origins of
major-minor tonality: A psychological
approach (Seriously? Rick Cohn better watch his back!)

Gábor Kiss: Spontaneity or
consciousness? Late-medieval
approaches to the differences of the
liturgical repertories (can't even begin to wonder)

Stefano Mengozzi: Facets of Musical
Renovatio in the Early 15th Century (Everyone should go buy his book when it officially hits the shelves)

Catherine Bradley: Clausula or Motet: Which
Came First? (We're still arguing about it, folks!)

Anna Zayaruznaya: The Composite Tenor of
Vitry’s Cum statua/Hugo (This should be magnificently interesting! Vitry's motet talks about lying and interior deception, using the metaphor of Nebuchadnezzar's statue. She's gonna talk about a hybrid tenor, and I'm hoping she'll court with notions of Alchemy...)

Rachel Lumsden: Mode, Gender, and Aribo’s De Musica (Everyone remember the 12th Century Aribo's very strange articulation of modes as woman's body? I wanted to talk about it in my thesis; never got round to it)

AND FINALLY,

This one's for Phil who lamented some blogposts ago that there really isn't much on musicology and Derrida. I'm happy to say that (1) I've used Derrida's "Hauntology" in my thesis at least once, and MedRen has this in store...

Kate Maxwell: Boethius, Guido, ...
Derrida? ‘Grammatology’ as a means of
understanding early music notation


Curious? So am I. I think I know where she's going with this one, but let's see if it's true.

Signing off,

HT. Going to get coffee now.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

The chapter that didn't quite make my thesis: Beastly transformation, Musicality, and Michael Jackson.

Michael Jackson’s Beastly Transformations in Thriller: Killing the Hypersexualized, “Musical” Body.

Nearly six entire centuries have passed since Chaillou’s interpolated Roman de Fauvel was brought into completion. Today, the enclosed world of reading for whom fr. 146 was probably meant for is replicated under the strict surveillance of the Paris Bibliothèque Nationale, fully accessible only to a limited number of viewers at a time. Despite the restricted circumstances of Fauvel viewership, paradoxically, the musical components of fr. 146 have never been more accessible. Over the last decade, the publication of the colossal Fauvel Studies has ushered in a new wave of Fauvel interest, succeeded by Emma Dillon’s Medieval Music-Making and the Roman de Fauvel, which both seek to relocate Chaillou’s interpolations within the epistemology of the “book,” and correspondingly, its intertextual relations with other items also included in fr. 146.

Acquiring a Fauvellian sound-byte has never been easier, thanks to new disseminative pathways such as the CDs, recordings, and the digitization of music over the internet. At the click of a button, almost every single musical item in the Roman de Fauvel can be purchased over i-tunes, Amazon, “ripped off” via file-sharing networks, or sampled on media-sharing sites such as imeem or youtube. On the front of contemporary music-making, groups as diverse as the Clemencic Consort, Studio der Frühen Musik, Ensemble P.A.N., Boston Camerata, Ordo Virtutum, The Ensemble for Early Music and even community amateur groups have tried their hand at theatricalising Fauvel from page to stage. Contrary to Gervais’ and Chaillou’s poetic predictions, Fauvel is far from deceased; his multiplied, sonorous musical form permeates the far corners of contemporary reconstructions of medieval music-making, with musicologists idolizing the Roman as one of the most important documents of music in the early fourteenth century.

Today, fr. 146 makers’ concerns over hermeneutic and exegetic “beastliness” seem to be lost in contemporary culture. Thanks to the Hollywood industry, medieval worry over the possibility of “beastly mutation” has been largely quelled by recent films such as X-men (2002) and its sequels (2003, 2006, 2009), The Incredible Hulk (2008) and the highly popular Twilight movie series (2008 followed by New Moon in 2009). In these films, the ability to transmute between beastly and humanoid bodies is fashioned as an imaginary additional appendage, a signifier of extraordinary abilities and fantastic powers beyond human possibilities. Although “beastliness” in its contemporary positive incarnations has the power to inspire awe and admiration, it is worth considering how these films as such respond to beast/human hybridity with ambivalence; to use a cursory example, the massive strength of the Incredible Hulk comes at the cost of uncontrollable rage and monstrous destructive urges. Such is the case demonstrated succinctly in Michael Jackson’s (MJ) immortalized music video Thriller (1983) directed for television by famed horror filmmaker John Landis (American House, American Werewolf in London, Twilight Zone), in which the music-star persona of Michael Jackson – then internationally lauded as the “King of Pop” – vacillates with a ghastly, monstrous filmic persona as if both the aura of celebrity musical genius and the horror of beast stem from the same metaphysical source.

In the fourteen minute music video, Landis and Jackson present us with a modern cinematic version of the Roman de Fauvel’s “Gesamtkuntswerk” aesthetic, marrying image, text and music unfolding temporally over a television “page.” More importantly, I believe the video reproduces similar concerns as the Roman de Fauvel’s anxiety over the sensuous, beastly (musically-suffused) body, albeit in a contemporary setting. The video opens with a lengthy expositional narrative sequence without Jackson’s signature pop tune (the catchy C-D-F-G-D repeating bass vamp only begins 4:13 minutes into the video), in which Jackson transforms into a hideous werewolf as soon as he and his onscreen date (Ola Ray, OR) declare their affection for each other, and the former presents her with an engagement ring [1:43] (see fig. 5.1).

Fig. 5.1. MJ presents OR with an engagement ring [1:43].


Leading up to his beastly transformation, the following dialogue ensues:

1:55 MJ: I have something I wanna tell you.
OR: Yes Michael?
MJ: I’m not like other guys.
OR: Of course not! That’s why I love you.
MJ: No, I mean I’m different.
OR: What are you talkin’ about?
2:10 Screenshot of clouds clearing away revealing the moon. MJ winces and crouches over
2:21 OR: Are you alright?
Cut to MJ, who has semi-transformed into a werewolf
2:24 MJ: (With a gruff, beastly voice) Go away!

Fig. 5.2. MJ transformed into a werewolf [2:51].


MJ’s transformation from 2:10 is ominously paired with “scary music” provided by Elmer Bernstein, which juxtaposes the audience’s expectation of Jackson’s lyricized pop tune with a nondiegetic “external” musical accompaniment (that is, music which seems to originate from a source other than onscreen narrative). In the self-contained fantastic world of Thriller, Bernstein’s music is presented as an “excessive” surplus to MJ’s song, conspicuously paired with moments of filmic beastly mutation. In other words, MJ’s mutations are flamboyantly “musical” in the sense that Bernstein’s “addicions” lack the neutralizing component of text (the word). It is as if the dimension of beastly transformation is explicitly linked to the wordless orchestration of Bernstein’s “beastly” scary music, or even apparent as its complicit source. During the transformation, even MJ’s human voice takes on a gruff, bestialized, monstrous quality [2:24], finally overtaking the mechanisms of speech: the fully transformed werewolf is completely “musical” in the sense that he is unable to produce words, his seat of grammatical reason reduced to “musical” howling and chaotic roaring akin to the intoxicated bray of a thought-deprived cantor (see fig. 5.2 above).

This beastly, speech-impaired “musical” version of werewolf-MJ threatens to break the anthropocentric social pact of MJ and OR’s wedding engagement, pursuing her ruthlessly [3:00 – 3:41] and pinning her to the ground (fig. 5.3 below). That is, the masculine hyper-sensualized (-sexualized) “musical” body of MJ-the-werewolf threatens to overwhelm the disciplinary “human” restrictions of nuptial relations. As Bernstein’s “scary music” surges to a crescendo, the “excesses” of the textless musicality of Thriller reaches a high point as the werewolf prepares to “consume” OR. This sequence has been oft interpreted as the rapacious beastliness of sexual predation, recapitulating Alan and Arnulf’s apprehension of the uncontrollable excessiveness of beastly sexual desires we encountered in chapter 1. MJ is suggestively posed above OR who, stricken with fear, lies helplessly on the ground; whether his approach concludes with sexual or oral consummation is, however, ingeniously left to the imagination of the viewer. At the critical point of attack (rape? Devouring?), the camera cuts to a shot of a movie theatre audience watching a horror film, with a “modern-day” (human) version of MJ and a differently fashioned OR amidst the crowd [3:42]; the viewer than “discovers” that the fright sequence was all but a dreamlike movie-style sequence.

Fig. 5.3. A fear-stricken OR [3:39] sprawled on the floor, encroached upon by a werewolf version of MJ [3:41].


In the second half of the video, the “modern-day” MJ (of the movie theatre) leaves the theatre at the request of “modern-day” OR, at which point the C-D-F-G-D bass vamp begins [4:13]. The beastly excesses of Bernstein’s orchestration are left behind in the movie theatre, “domesticated” as such by containing it within the theatre, and hence the fantastic imagination of the film both actors previously “watched.” After singing three permutations of the song’s verse, the camera pans to a graveyard where, accompanied by an organ underscoring, a different sort of monstrous, “beastly” being emerges. From 6:31 to 8:03, zombies (another form of liminal beastly being perched between life and death) emerge from beneath the ground, as if drawn to the infectious “musicality” of the song’s textless, repetitive bass vamp. Like the “imperfect” neumatic coloration of the tenor line of Garrit Gallus/In Nova Fert, the sensuous pulsation of Thriller’s ground bass appears to breathe “pneumatic” life into the corpses of the dead, spawning an army of aural-pleasure-seeking creatures. This monstrous life-giving quality of MJ’s metaphysical musicality is further strengthened by the deterioration of MJ’s vocals into meaningless, sensuous warbling: at 7:32, the zombies rise to MJ’s signature “hiccup” vocal hook, and his musical improvisation on intoning “ooh,” “yeah,” “ooh baby,” and “woah yeah,” approximating nonsensical glossia: precisely the kind of avian-like literate but inarticulate particulate vox which transform the signifying capacities of the sign into pure aural titillation (see chapter 2). Are the zombies drawn to the “musical” qualities of MJ’s voice, or are they enraptured by the significance of his envoiced words (i.e. the logos of the sign)?

Fig. 5.4. MJ’s zombie metamorphosis [8:26].


By 8:03, the auditory zombies have encircled MJ and OR. At this moment, the Thriller vamp drops out completely, while Bernstein’s “scary music” theme irrupts out of its movie theatre enclosure and into “modern” MJ and OR’s narrative, articulated with an alternating E-flat/F dyad (another musically “metamorphosing” pitch sequence?) in the string section [8:09-8:21], proceeded by an atonal D-C#-C falling chromatic pattern in the strings from [8:21-8:24]. This section climaxes on a loud dissonant cluster in the orchestra [8:25], as the camera pans onto “modern” MJ’s, himself suddenly transformed into a beastly, zombie-like being (fig. 5.4 above) to the bewilderment of “modern” OR. Immediately after this ghastly “reveal,” at 8:28 the familiar Thriller bass vamp kicks into gear, inspiring the ghoulish MJ and his zombie accomplices into a wordless dance sequence which continues until 9:40 (fig. 5.5), which heightens the relationship between textless “musicality” and the rhythmic, sensual drives of the (dancing) body. However, at 9:41 where the text of the chorus returns, the ghoulish MJ spins around to face the camera and sing only for the viewer to discover that his beastly “mutation” has abruptly come to an end. Indeed the moment MJ returns his musical piping to a worded chain of signification, all signs of transformation vanishes, leaving the pop star intact in his fully humanized body (fig. 5.6).

Fig. 5.5. The zombie dance sequence [9:24].


Fig. 5.6. A “re-humanized” MJ [9:41].


By returning to the safe, productive realm of signification, the music video seems to suggest that MJ overcomes his own “beastly” self by becoming an intelligent master of the word (logos), thereby returning to the realm of humanness. On the contrary, by abandoning the symbolic functions of the sign and appealing to the metaphysical excesses of “musicality,” MJ is portrayed as degenerating into the sphere of beastliness. Once MJ’s sung chorus break [9:41-10:34] ends, a shot of MJ’s face in 10:40 shows him retransformed into a zombie. It is only by speaking again (“what’s the problem?”) in 11:47 that MJ breaks the spell of his beastly ontology and, predictably, acquires the affection of his recovering girlfriend. The aesthetic of the word’s power in MJ and Landis’ modern-day Gesamtkuntswerk is further reified by an opening message signed by MJ at the beginning of the video:

Due to my strong personal convictions,
I wish to stress that this film in no
Way endorses a belief in the occult.
- Michael Jackson.

MJ and Landis therefore use the hermeneutic strength of the signifying word to quell any alternative “beastly” forms of exegesis, or acts of misreading which may result from watching the film. In other words, MJ’s opening statement covertly works to dispel, indeed “kill” misinformed acts of reading arising from the metaphysical excess of the film’s semiotic signs in play. By “framing” our viewing experience by warning the viewer not to interpret the film as evidence of MJ’s occult-based beliefs, does not MJ position himself as a version of the clerky, masterful “reader” instructing his students (fans/viewers) of “carnal” reading? MJ disciplines the field of the film’s reception through use of the word, reminding spectators that the filmic events should be understood at an aesthetic, “figurative” level rather than one that is “literal.”

From his onscreen persona to his public persona, MJ’s “performance” of the self in public has also repeated the authority of the word against the metaphysical excesses of wordless “musicality.” This has come to bear on MJ’s deliberate refusal to participate in discourses of his sexuality (the discursive domain of the sensuous beast), his business associate Shirley Brooks explaining that it is “none of anyone else’s business.” Yet, MJ’s suppressed “beastly” domain has nonetheless attracted the admiration of thousands of adoring fans, who, like Alan’s pleasure-seeking sodomites, figure MJ’s sexual appeal into the “musicality” of the voice rather that its textual passengers. Mercer explains:

Just what is it that makes this young, black man so different, so appealing? Undoubtedly, it is the voice which lies at the heart of his appeal. Rooted in the Afro-American tradition of ‘soul,’ Jackson’s vocal performance is characterized by breathy gasps, squeaks, sensual sighs and other wordless sounds which have become his stylistic signature. The way in which this style punctuates the emotional resonance and bodily sensuality of the music corresponds to what Roland Barthes called the ‘grain’ of the voice – ‘the grain is the body in the voice as it sings.’ The emotional and erotic expressiveness of the voice is complemented by the sensual grace and sheer excitement of Jackson’s dancing style: even as a child, his stage performance provoked comparisons with James Brown and Jackie Wilson.

However, as we have seen in the Thriller video, MJ’s “stylistic signature” of erotic “musicality” is similarly the sensuous, metaphysical agent which initiates his mutation from man to beast, an uncontrollable monstrous entity which must be killed by the presence of the word for meaningful figurations of the social contract. The beast is undeniably on the outside, and must be brought back within the boundaries of signification in order to discipline, police, and regulate the meanings of human interactions. One only need venture beyond the bounds of MJ’s regulated stronghold of signification into fan-based circles and the discourse of popular tabloids to observe the destructive effects of beastliness and the “musicality” of signification gone awry on MJ’s reputation. In 1993, MJ’s fame was tarnished by a permutation of such sensuous beastliness, himself stigmatized by a spate of child-molestation scandals, the repercussions of which are still felt today after the celebrity’s untimely death in 2009 from drug overdose. Put differently, MJ’s ambiguous flirtations with the realm of beastly, erotic sensuousness in music videos such as Thriller was an integral part of his rise to fame, as much it was ultimately the blemish that tarnished his public “humanly” image. Indeed, the mutative, beastly quality of MJ’s Thriller video spills over to his public persona in which, under the charged rumours of his deviant acts of sexual predation, construes MJ as a queer, hybridized beast of sorts, shuttling between the glorified super-human object of desire and his monstrous incarnation as a predatory paedophile.

Another name for the musical, sensuous beastliness which dominated MJ’s charges is suggested by John Nguyet Erni as “queer,” a term which designates a deviance from yardsticks of (sexual) normativity while also containing the potential to “queer” the “givenness” of normative templates against which it was first measured. Drawing on the work of literary queer theorists such as Michael Warner and Judith Butler, Erni describes MJ’s “queer figuration” in the realm of the cultural-political as:

[Increasingly] a zone of socially licensed excess, and one without guarantee. “Queer” is a point of resistance, a locus of repeated stigmatization, and a site for overcommodification all at the same time. However, realizing this is never an underestimation of the over-and-above charge of queer practices and queer practices and queer modes of articulation. Rather, it is to trust, with due caution, that the queer performative self – whether it is about performing the transitive “race,” the crossover “gender,” or the topsy-turvy “sexuality,” [and, one should add, the beast-human hybrid,] Michael Jackson style or otherwise plays in the phantom space on all sides of the social and political sphere, and produces itself as vigilant, imaginative, and vastly revisable, but invariably paradoxical, political fictions.

On the front of musicology, the late Philip Brett brilliantly demonstrated the historical semantic connection between beastly “queerness” and “musicality.” Inspired by the work of Eve Sedgwick, Brett argues that the beastly ineffability of queerness (under the regulating gaze of the heteronormative) due to what Sedgwick calls the “epistemology of the closet” made it structurally complementary to music’s own alleged ineffability, to the extent that they became nearly coterminous. “Musical” came to be a slippery “codeword,” an identifying catchphrase amidst members of the same deviating class that could potentially signify that which was other than itself, in other words, signify the beastly, unstable transmuting locus of the “queer.”

Paradoxically, then, “musical” only “signifies” queerness when it signifies defectively, when it short-circuits the pathway of normative signification. Like Fauvel’s visual and musical ontology as a sensuous/sign hybrid, musical queerness threatens the legitimacy of normative signifying systems by being impossible to firmly “pin down.” It revels in the metaphysical, sonorous excesses of the sign and the uncontrollable generation of multiple meanings through play while refuting a unidirectional epistemology of signification. Instead, as the sonorous explosion of “boive” and its sister signs on folio 45r, meaning is amplified (amplificato) in all directions, rupturing a one-way signification street and causing an experience of disorientation or intoxication. Similarly, MJ’s “beastly” persona in Thriller is equally resistant to the grasp of reason – his mutating body slips effortlessly between human, werewolf and zombie, in turn “queering” the authenticity of his “original” humanly appearance, relating, as it were, to the slippery, hybridized quality of the Fauvellian sign teetering between signification and self-absorption.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Politicomusicologico-ism: should we be afraid?



Yes, chestnuts are roasting on an open fire.

Jackfrost nipping at your nose.

You know the drill, except on this early Christmas afternoon, the sordid interjection of Facebook did more than just reintroduce icicles hanging over my nose. It introduced this:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2009/dec/22/copenhagen-climate-change-mark-lynas

Surprise! And a very merry Christmas to you!

Not exactly your average way to start off the holiday celebrations by getting politically infuriated over the Coppenhagen dealings. Holiday space, like musical/musicological space is supposed to be ritualised space, where clean lines of method, process and knowledge intersect predictably. Where, for a bite-sized oatmeal cookie chunk of time, we stave-off the staves, becoming domestic holiday-beings, chorusing good cheer while all this lip-service to goodwill appears to be a simple pat on the back for not getting embroiled in sticky world-situations.

Sometimes, it's a gordian knot, isn't it? In a world that demands the intellectual to properly intervene, his space has likewise been reduced to the domesticated coffee-mafia of sterile scholasticism. In this bubble, "change" is what we believe in, but sometimes we're happier when all "change" denotes is a shift in scholarly perspective, unearthing some dusty deconstructive debate if only to give the 'ol knowledge box a shiny veneer. Has the musicological endeavor absorbed enough of corporate values that it has finally become a bookmark, a footnote in the historical-citation practice of the future? Are we narcissists, gazing into the imaginary mirror of futurism, secretly imagining how our output will be viewed in the years to come?

I want to expand a little on Dominick LaCapra's bitter essay in the 1985s concerning the "archival" turn. His critique was philosophical, a post-Hayden White generation of thinkers who took the "aesthetic" argument of History seriously, and believed that its extension into politics was more metaphysical than objectively navigated. In the wake of Derrida & co's linguistic turn, La Capra criticized historians for conferring a Benjaminesque auratic quality to the "archive" where The Truth (see the capitals?) promised to reside, where authentic knowledge could be extracted over other (inauthentic??) means. I won't ponder over the authentic/inauthentic unesay currencies reminiscent of Heidegger and National Socialism - others have done a good job of explicating the ways in which theory and practice do diverge, but by diverging, they inadvertedly touch each other. In such touchings, the inertia from their interactivity determines certain countours of history, contours of the present which also serve to delimit the nature of contemporary "truths".

LaCapra calls archival fever no more than a "fetish", a "literal substitute for the ‘reality’ of the past which is ‘always already’ lost for the historian". Of course, LaCapra continues to be debated in spheres of the philosophy of history, and lately conceptions of the "presentness of the past" (remember Taruskin?) have come back into play. Theorists such as Runia confer theoretical legitimacy upon "Experiences" of the past as irruptive windows into the Real real of the past. I myself am more Zizkekian; skeptical of the Real real, I tend to agree that the real tends to present itself as a rupture of chronotypes, which does not simply offer one a "window" into the past, but disfigures the ontological authority of "the past", "the present" and "the future" as we know it. In short - trauma, horror, symbolic breakdown. Do other manifestations of the "real" exist outside Lacan which extend a "softer" version of the historical real like that envisioned by Runia? Perhaps, but perhaps this version of fantastical unmediate access would merely make "thrill-seekers" of us, and not fastidious poststructuralist inquirers.

Anyway, this "rupture" destroys the symbolic efficacy of Christmas for me. The irruption of the "real", I think, can be no more than a discursive infection, where one discursive sphere suddenly spills into the ritualized, ordered discursivity of festivity. Christmas is fantasy. Me listening to old recordings of Nat King Cole singing "The Christmas Song" over youtube is merely the flexibility, insistence and tenacity of the Symbolic to quickly conscript bedfellows in its reproductive series. And this series says "rest, dear academic", for battles can be forgotten for a day. But we forget these battles for a day, and the musical umbilical to fantasy is prematurely severed upon the insistence of the pleasurable. The wonderful. Or, if I may warrant: the fetishistic.

I'm not all negative nancy. I know I dissed the eco-musicology symposium, but this was in faith that we could someday avoid neologisms (eco-) to legitimate an endeavour that is always already political, or partisan in a reproductive fantasy of differentiated political space. We love music, we love it, we love it, we love it. Our worrying love for the subject infects the field of the historical to bend to our contours of love, or vice versa. But this is the "touching" of spheres, its colouring by our orientation towards the fetishistic object. But to love, I think, requires us to acknowledge the infectous "hate" typical of any object of desire, any objet petit a, delimiting a structural vortex in our system of pleasure. We tend to excribe the unpleasurable from the musicological, don't we? We give analytical treatises on why we should love, cherish and enjoy music, but maybe we should also pay attention to relieving our conscience of the insistence of enjoyment. When free to hate, or extend dislike, we turn our objects of fetishistic love into monstrous relics, threatening to devour the very amorous speaker. Inscribing the monstrous element of the musical, affirming its ability to turn against us, is just an important task as appraisal.

So, to sum up briefly on this happy day - yes. Be very afraid of politicomusicologico-ism (I made up that word. It's a mouthful). Because fear, as much as it is a manipulatory tool, is an affirmative counterbalance to our fetishistic insistence on the musical, the nonconforming structural hole in the middle of the symbolic. By returning the duplicity of the fetishistic object as both desirable and horrific/abject, we make room for the object to speak back and punish the lover. It becomes frighteningly queer, and the "musical" demands a different sort of attention to its agenda. I cite a couple of visionary examples - Suzanne G. Cusik's incredibly important article in Radical Musicology on "Musicology, Torture, Repair", and another article (I can't remember the source) on News-TV opening-titles. Such investigations re-open the wound of the fetish, and expose its other quality: the abject, the foreclosed feature of the object which incites fear, disgust, and the possibility of denoting new lines of flight.

So Ho ho ho,

Oh fear!

Merry Christmas.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Merry Chirstmas Eve!

Because of various externalities, I decided to cancel my little trip around the freezing, forrested areas of New England for Christmas. Instead, I'm spending it with my little sister who travelled from Stanford to stay with me in Connecticut. And lemme tell ya'all folks: it's cold here! We've all got the sniffles, reduced to rubbing hands in front of the faulty heating to warm up. At least we have music to share! We can't eradicate world hunger and injustice, but boy, can we sightread.

In the spirit of Christmas, I thought I'd post a little video from the last concert I had with the mixolydians, a small singing consort that I direct at Wesleyan. We usually do lots of funky, eclectic 21st century Eastern European stuff (think lots of cluster chords and an over-zealous penchant for stacked major-seconds), but this year we decided to improve our musicality by going back to "basics". And by basics, I mean the hefty interpretative task of Poulenc's gorgeous 1952 Ave Verum Corpus for female choir.



You can just see my back, conducting this piece, milking the musicality for all its worth. But I think slowing down the tempo and underplaying the architectonics paradoxically stresses its psychically schizophrenic texture. Poulenc is, of course, famous for composing in juxtapositionary cells, but here he seems to have a keen pulse of voice-leading techniques than in his Mass for choir and orchestra, for example. I let the music "speak for itself" (don't press me on this point on Christmas Eve, let's celebrate!)

Get a cup of eggnog people, and kick back on those upholstery. Merry Christmas Eve.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

un/dissing Bent

Addendum after this was posted: I'd better keep under wraps. I feel some passions are going to fly after I've blatantly mentioned the "B" word. And no, it's not that prize-winning homosexual Nazi-play. See below, but please, don't judge too harshly or call All Souls.

I think I've been rather unfair to Margaret Bent, whose lucid analyses and keen insight into medieval musicology has rejuvinated a field always in danger of going stale. Looking back, like Leech-Wilkinson, I reeled a little from her distinction between historically "valid" and "invalid" modes of analyses, even though she was attempting to designate a regulative principle, indeed a scholarly code of conduct to historical musicology. In other words, she was engaging in matters of methodology, not "moral" principles. But can we fully disengage ourselves from the manifestations of the "moral" in so-called cold, hard analyses? As a disciplinary field, Music Theory has sometimes moved towards the polarity of ahistoricism - think David Lewin's phenomenological investigations, Lerdahl and Jackendoff's psychological tree-diagrams or Richard Cohn's revitalization of Riemann's harmonic theory, turning Schubert into a mathematical grid. Cohn rhetorically calls them eyeglasses for "gazing" at the wonderful stars of tonality, an endeavor in translation, making them statistically decodable to our generation far removed from Schubert's. Sometimes medieval musicologists claim that we cannot move in the same direction - to do so is to enact postmodern rape. Postmodern rape = bad, historically-informed analyses = good. Hence empiricism is sufficiently defended from those historically insensitive theorists. Bah humbug on them.

Wait... let's take a step back, shall we? How far off is the "historicist" approach to medieval music theory from the cube-like architectural constructions of Douhett's musical cubes? Most recently, Jennifer Bain has recently attempted a "statistical" breakdown of Machaut's monophonic chromatic inflections, and, in turn, composing a hierarchy of ouvert/clos strengths based on those figures. Her research has been lauded as an important addition to medieval music and theory, a pat on the empiricist's back for toiling away, counting chromatic inflections. I don't want to discuss the epistemological shortcomings of this painstaking work, but simply to point out some - Bain's main statistical pool consists of Machaut's 200-or-so virelai, leaving out the monophonic chansons of Machaut's Lais which, I think, are equally important to the concept of chromatic inflections. This is not even considering the blatant disregard for issues of ficta; like Brothers, Bain takes Machaut's text as God's holy word - no signa there, means no inflection implied. Done, end of story. And should "Machaut" speak for the rest of 14th-century chromatic practices? This is assuming that Machuat, from the onset of his career, conceived of the heirarchical function that Bain extracts from her figures, or has remained consistent in his approach to said inflections.

The million-dollar question is this: is it alright to assign an idea of "hierarchy" to Machaut's chromatic inflections in the first place? The question may a methodological puzzle of chicken-and-egg: which came first? Machaut penciling chromatic hierarchies, or the hierarchy-seeking analyst who labels such structural features as chromatic hierarchies? I am not dissing Bain as a replacement to Bent. No, in fact, I welcome her work, especially the ontological problem they shed on her analyses. All in all, extrapolating structural conclusions from statistical data like this is not much different than extracting a middleground voice-leading graph in neo-Schenkerian Analysis. The difference is that while the "ahistorical" theorist tends to sidestep contingent historical traces to construct modern hermeneutic grids that "work" for certain musics (think Kuhn, Rorty, and the debate about scientific knowledge), historicists assign value to contemporaneous historical sources as collaborators in their analytical/narrativistic enterprises. And, beholden to the historical trace as a methodological bedfellow, historical musicologists tend to have to straddle more discursive practices than the theorist. This may mean more work for the musicologist/historicist over the theorist (I'm not making any claims here), which may serve to explain the emotional righteousness historians feel over "ahistorians", if such a designation may even be meaningful.

So, after this minor diversion, can we fully disengage the "moral" from the "method"? To this, we should say that the story is more complicated. To say we can be free of the "moral" from the "method" is to theoretically compartmentalize these terms in order to preserve a certain sense of autonomy to one's historical preoccupations. The reality is Foucauldian; no one can simply say anything one likes. That is to say, both Leech-Wilkinson and Bent are right, and in the logic of scholarly debate, more valuable than right. After all, arguments generate papers, and papers generate citation and more papers: the machine of scholarly production rarely grinds to a halt with dispute. Rather, dispute feeds the paper industry, which, in turn, works to sustain scholars whose very lives depend on the production of papers. The method is the moral (of the story), what we say and do affects the regulative contours of the discipline, and the disciplinary models we pass on to future generations or inherit from older ones. Centering the debate on "methodology" obscures the fact that "methodology" generates a ripple effect, which vibrate with passionate self-beliefs - one's set of morals oriented towards the other, if you may. Strong words call to be read strongly in the field of the other: amicability is one mode of ethics when dealing with a clash of methodological beliefs, and can be of serious consequences.

To be continued.