Password: FIELDWORK

Andean pop music is as much a product of South America as it is a fusion of world musics. The listening samples for today are typical examples of chicha, wayno, and technocumbia music, and it is clear, after repeated listening, how they compare and contrast.

Wayno music is the oldest and most strictly Andean style. That’s not to say, however, that it sounds like Andean wind ensembles by any means;feature prominently in the  wayno example, “Valicha,” by Julio Benavente. The form is relatively simple, following AABBAA in the short segement provided.

Chicha music comes from the children of Andean migrants who did not identify with the highland music of their parents, nor the cosmopolitan music of their new music. Thus, chicha is someting of a hybrid, incorporating wayno melodies mixed with Carribean or Columbian salsa rhythms. The content of the songs, such as “Somos Estudiantes,” is declaratory and sought to cement a place in society for the second-generation immigrants.

Technocumbia is even more recent. While the singers in the example “Tic, Tic, Tac” are male, the music generally showcases young, female music. The music shares chicha’s cumbia rhythms, but is electronic and more eclectic in inspiration.

I read ahead so that I would have some context for listening to and writing about the piece “Tarkas of Huata Community, Carnival in Conima.” I’m glad I did so.

The bombos drive the piece and are much louder than I expected for a region known for their wind ensembles. That being said, the stars of the piece are undoubtedly the sikus. The hocketing is a neat effect and, combined with the extra air that reaches the second row of the siku (whether it be the ira or the arca), provides a full, complementary interaction amongst the instruments.

I was excited to hear the sound of a tarka, for I had difficulty believing from the photograph in the reading that such a small flute could produce the “buzzy, fat sound” of a saxophone. Alas, my suspicion was justified when I heard the piece. I think the problem is that I was, foolishly, expecting a brassy sound from a woodwind. Still, the tarkas were distinctive and much clearer and easier to follow than the sikus. Both seemed to be following the melody.

The melody followed a pattern of AABBCCDD, I think (?). Each phrase began with the same two sets of notes, and then varied in the last two sets. This set of four was then repeated once more. There is also a distinct increase in tempo near the last fifth of the song, providing for a climatic finish to the performance.

Because I have yet to read anything about the contextual setting for the performance, I cannot comment on that aspect of the recording. However, aesthetically I found the sikus frustratingly imprecise sounding and the piece significantly less virtuosic than the Bulgarian “wedding music” we just studied, and more repetitive due to relative paucity of improvisational sections.

In Lambango, I experienced a large degree in difficulty demarcating the differences between the donkilo and the sataro. The reading assigned for today described the donkilo as tuneful (whatever that means), but the sataro seemed equally melodic.

I wonder if Jobateh’s interjections are customary, or if they are unique to this piece due to the context of the recording.

The kora, on display in “Ala lake 2”, seems like a very practical instrument to me; the jali is able to access an incredibly wide range at any moment due to the size of the kora and the number of strings, but his melodies are still rather simple. I’m not sure I can think of any comparable western stringed instruments, as the harp is too large and lutes and lyres are too small. In this piece, I noticed the ostinato during vocal solos mentioned in the text.

I liked “Saheli yeri” enough to download it to my iTunes. I can’t tell if the lighter notes emanate from a xylophone or a stringed instrument. There is a certain twang that leads me to believe the latter. The form of this song seems a little westernized to me and easier to follow. Also, the stereophonic nature of the piece make me think this might have been a high fidelity recording intended for a western audience. Hmmm…

Is that a snare drum in “Sada diallo”? There is so much noise here in comparison with the earlier pieces…this must be from a world music compilation. The same goes for the song about Pirates, which features what I consider rap. Perhaps these last two or three pieces are just the cosmopolitan manifestations of the original Mande sound.

First of all, I enjoyed listening to these songs because I did my ethnography report on the BaAka pygmies of Centrafrique. When I borrowed the book, however, I did not realize there was an accompanying CD. Thus, I read/skimmed a whole text while only being able to imagine the music described.

From the reading, I believe that the “Ejengi Ceremony” is the performance involving the raffia-skirted dancers. In the piece I noticed that the performers continuously add layers to the song, the melody of which is a repeated yodel. There are, I believe, two strains of female voices present. All of this comes to a head around 1:24 when the drums (?) come in and the singing takes a backseat to the new beat and male chanting. At 2:32 a lower pitched drum enters, and the chanting changes. I wonder what the exclamation at 3:16 is for…

I will be honest, “Makala” by the BaAka sounds painful. The way the (youthful sounding) voices change pitch so drastically is a little strident to me. At the same time, I also get the unmistakable sense of exuberance that accompanies such sharp upswings.

In “Styles of Yodeling” I initially thought that I was listening to Inuit throat singing. In fact, that would still be my guess as to how the singer produces such a unique sound. By the end of the song I was left in a daze, only able to pick out the similarities between the yodelers. They all seemed to vacillate their voices drastically between high and low pitches and at least seemed to sing in a meter with six beats (this is really just a guess, I have no musical training, it would be great if somebody could corroborate or offer their own opinion).

Perhaps I should have payed more attention in class (in fact, this is a distinct possibility), but I don’t understand why loud-style and soft-style are so named, at least after hearing the examples provided. Basically, Ladrang ‘Wilujeng’, the soft-style example, seemed louder than Bubaran ‘Kembang Pacar’, the loud-style piece.

Most noticeably,  “Wilujeng” featured what I would assume were female vocals (pesindhen?) whereas the most prominent presence in “Kambang Pacar” is the gong. The female vocals were legato and thus could be, I guess, considered contemplative and meditative. More so, however, they also added to the already heavily layered cacophony of the piece. It also sounded like the scale of “Wilujeng” was higher than that of “Kambang Pacar”. I understand that an ensemble could perhaps play “Kambang Pacar” at the end of a ceremony (as it is a Bubaran?) and the forceful strikes of the metallophones and gongs would excite the audience and leave them with an indelible memory of the sounds of gamelan. At the same time, the reduction in instruments and lower scale put me at ease far more than the exotic-sounding and attention-grabbing soft-style piece.

Gamelan originated in the royal courts of Central Java, where the rulers considered the gong to be a medium through which they could communicate with their deities. This gamelan eventually spread to Bali, and assumed a flavor of it’s own. Balinese gamelan is typically faster and less meditative than Central Javanese gamelan.

Gamelan beleganjur, a subtype of Balinese gamelan, is even more distinct from typical Central Javanese gamelan.

Musically, gamelan beleganjur features different instruments than typical Central Javanese gamelan. Five to ten pairs of hand-held cymbals, called ceng-ceng (onomatopoetically), lend a much more violent and harsh sound to the music. Simultaneously, there is also an edge of excitement gained from their unique presence.  Also, at least in the examples provided, the rebab and vocalization of Central Javanese gamelan are absent in gamelan beleganjur (as I suspect are many other of the panerusan, this may just be a case of limited exposure and I am not generalizing here). Notable in the gamelan beleganjur is the kotek, in which two players play syncopated lines to produce a continuous melody. A personal observation is that the melody of the gamelan beleganjur crescendos in tempo much more noticeably than the Central Javanese gamelan.

Gamelan beleganjur is processional, meaning that all of the instruments used are portable. It is also used for specific occasions, such as temple anniversaries or mortuary rituals. Central Javanese gamelan is used in religious ceremonies, as well as at festivals, performances, concerts, and for the shadow puppetry wayang.

You know what bothers me about considering Qur’ anic recitation music? It’s not the religious context that accompanies the call to prayer, honestly. The distinction between what is and isn’t music is, for me, a personal decision that lies in the ear of the beholder. No, what irked me is that only males can recite the adhan. Islam is a religion I know relatively very little about, and I’m sure there is an extensive canonical tradition that dictates that this qualification be enforced. And I don’t disrepect that or or suggest that women should be able to recite the adhan. But the fact that this holy duty is reserved for men and men only saddens me. No wonder women feel compelled to sing haram in clubs, bars, and brothels when this unwritten patriarchy is shoved in their ears five times a day (/end rant). (more…)