Just another CMUS 103 weblog

After reviewing all of my weekly listening journals, I realized that my last three had to be the best by default; I naturally understand world musics more now that I have almost finished the class. At the beginning of the semester, I still knew very little about different world musics; I didn’t really attempt to develop an ear for the music I was listening to. Overall, since these blogs were written for the purpose of documenting my reactions to music before learning about them, my evaluations were not very strong. However, while I can’t say that I have suddenly evolved into the most open, meticulous listener, I know that I have improved since the beginning of the year.

My blog from November 2nd titled “Mande Music: ‘Lambango’ and ‘Pirates’,” dealt with, as expected, Mande music from Mali. I compared the singing and speaking portions in “Lambango” to the adhan, and mentioned melismatic singing. In addition, I discussed the cyclical nature of the piece. Both of these musical forms– melismatic singing and cyclical music– were references back to the earlier units in Islamic music and Javanese gamelan. I compared “Pirates” to current pop music and mentioned the common usage of verses and a chorus in these pieces. The analyses of both of these songs could have probably been deeper. Overall, I thought this was one of my more objective blogs of the semester; I included basically no opinions as to how I felt about the music.

The next blog titled “Music of the Aymara: ‘Siku Choclo’ and ‘Siku Illimani’” was written on November 16th and dealt with Peruvian pan pipe music. This entry was also fairly objective. Though I did mention that I preferred “Siku Illimani,” I feel that it was largely just related to a personal preference; I mention that I liked it better “because I was able to hear the melody more clearly,” and my preference mostly dealt with the song itself, not the style of music. I also discuss the breathy quality of playing. However, this entry seemed to focus mostly on the instrumentation, and could have probably focused more on technique as well.

The last blog I wrote was from November 30th, titled “Andean Pop Music: ‘Valicha’.” This entry focused on two different versions of the song. This entry may have had the best mix of objectivity and personal thoughts out of all of my blog entries this semester. I immediately began with my personal opinions of the two versions of the piece, then went on to describe what I heard in as objective of a manner as possible. Unlike the other two entries, I mentioned the production of the music, and used the forms of production as clues to understanding the music. For example, because Los Destellos played a version of “Valicha” that seemed to include pedals and other distortion devices, I assumed that their version was more modern (and perhaps more cosmopolitan as well, though I didn’t mention it in that entry). Like the previous entry (”Music of the Aymara”), this could have included more on technique in addition to the analysis on the instrumentation.

I really liked both the Chicha and Wayno versions of the piece “Valicha,” though I didn’t enjoy them in the same way, as they’re different genres of Andean pop music (I think).

The first version by Los Destellos sounded more modern, especially in terms of the types of instruments used in the song. It does not seem to be referencing the most traditional forms of Andean music, as it includes what sounds like an electric guitar. The song is further modernized in the use of distortion in the lead guitar, possibly with pedals or various production tools in a studio. The entire piece could have been treated with some form of prodution in the end, actually, since it sounds “fuzzy” and somewhat muted. Since I suspect that the piece was treated and edited in a studio, I’m also wondering if the backing drums and repeated secondary guitar were just added later.

The Julio Benavente (Wayno) version, however, seems to only make use of acoustic guitars and other stringed instruments, and does not even include any percussive instruments. In addition, I don’t notice a great amount of production like the Destellos version, save for perhaps multiple takes of the song; I assume it was done in the studio, as indicated by the quality of the song.

As for the actual piece, the style of the melody in “Valicha” reminds me of “El Condor Pasa;” that is, the notes sounds more Western to me. Both versions, in addition, have very clear, individual parts for each instrument. The caliber of playing and musicianship also indicates that the piece is not necessarily made for anyone to join in, as per the culture of traditional Andean music. This indicates that this song is more modern. There also is a noticeable lack of wind instruments in both versions of “Valicha,” despite the iconic quality of panpipes in Peru.

“El Condor Pasa” has come to be a song iconic of Peruvian, specifically Andean, folk music, despite the fact that the song itself is less “folk” and more cosmopolitan in nature.

Anyways, here are a few clips of covers of the version of “El Condor Pasa” that Simon and Garfunkel made famous in the 1970s.

The Muppets (maybe more of a parody than a direct cover)

Harpist José Luis León

Of the selection of Andean music this week, I chose “Siku Choclo” by the Qhantati Ururi ensemble and “Siku Illimani” by the Ayllu Sulcata ensemble.

My overall impression of “Siku Choclo” was that it’s an upbeat song that uses a few select instruments. From what I could tell, there were only panpipes and a drum. The song has a fast tempo that is established by the strong, steady drum beat. The main melody is played by what sounds like a group of panpipes. While the panpipes have different qualities in sound, most of them seem to all be playing the same notes. Although they are playing the same melody, the listener is still able to distinguish between each panpipe. There are also panpipes in the background that are not exactly harmonizing, but rather playing a different voice in the song. A whistle begins to play towards the middle of the song; it seems to change pitch slightly throughout the few seconds that it plays.

I preferred “Siku Illimani,” mostly because I was able to hear the melody more clearly. This quality probably is partly due to the fact that the tempo is slower than in “Siku Choclo,” and the pitches of the panpipes are (what I perceive to be) mellower; the panpipes in “Siku Choclo” play in a higher pitch, and the sound is more breathy. The strong drum beat, however, is still present in “Siku Illimani.” I also hear a group of panpipes, again playing the same melody with a few backing panpipes playing a different voice. It sounds like the group may be smaller in this piece, but this may be due to the fact that the song is slower and quieter.

The Mande kora piece “Lambango” begins with some sort of stringed instrument that plays notes which sound unfamiliar, and are probably “non-Western” pitches. There are two vocalists: One who is singing and sounds like a woman, and a man who is speaking, possibly in response to the woman. The woman’s style of singing (which could possibly be chanting) reminded me of the Islamic adhan, especially in the use of what sounds like melismatic singing.

I wasn’t exactly sure of how the speaking part related to the rest of the piece, except in that it could be a response to the singing part. Also, the singing doesn’t seem to be completely relating to the cyclical string parts in the background, at least rhythmically. I didn’t hear a large range of pitches in the stringed instrument besides what is played in the occasional ornaments; there may have been three main notes in the chordophone’s part.

The Les Escrocs piece “Pirates” is completely different; there is a more set form to the song that I recognized, with verses and a chorus. That is, it sounds closer to the form of modern pop songs. There are a few main male vocalists who rap the verses and main parts of the piece, while a group of female sings the chorus section of the song.

Both pieces make use of stringed instruments in the background, and these parts sound generally cyclical with fairly limited range of pitches. However, this stringed section in “Pirates” interacts rhythmically a lot more with the vocal parts than the stringed instrument in “Lambango” does. Also, I heard (though not very prominently) the use of drums in “Pirates,” while “Lambango” did not. What’s interesting is that both songs make use of a “speaking” section, a singing section, and similar instruments, but use and structure them together in such different ways that I did not immediately recognize their similarities to one another.

Before having heard anything, I assumed Pygmy pop would be music heavily influenced by Western culture, based solely and superficially on the name. Since I’ve heard little to no music originating from the African rainforest, I had nothing to compare the music to; as a result, I listened to a few of the samples from the Bibayak, BaMbuti, and Ba-Benzele. In general, the pieces seem focused most heavily on vocal instrumentation and rhythm. In a piece from the Ba-Benzele titled “Ejengi Ceremony,” the instruments which stand out the most are the vocal parts: First the layered voices in the piece, then the male vocalist over these voices, and then some form of call and response towards the end. I can also hear clapping in the beginning of the song, which seems to be acting as an instrument as well, as it has texture and layers like the vocals. Drums also come in later in the piece. Throughout the entire piece, however, there are no other instruments I can hear other than these voices and drums. Also, as far as I can tell, the notes played in these songs are not related to traditional Western scales.

Since this piece comes from an “Ejengi ceremony,” I’m wondering just how much of this experience I’m missing from not seeing something that goes along with the music. Is there dancing? Is this somehow similar to Indonesian randai, in which the listener is much more enlightened by the song by actually seeing the visual aspect that accompanies it? Regardless, I liked this piece, particularly the call and response later in the song. This music sounds made specifically for high amounts of interaction between the audience and performers; at some points, it may even be hard to separate the two.

Anyways, with an extremely general idea of the music of the Pygmy people, I tried out a few of the Pygmy pop songs.

The Western influence is extremely evident in the song “Watermelon Man.” The song begins with a breathy aerophone (possibly a flute) as played in the pieces from Bibayak, BaMbuti, and Ba-Benzele. There also are a few brief voice samples, but after this introduction these are not included. The Western influence is shown in, first of all, the instrumentation; overall, it sounds like some electric synthesizer is imitating the sounds of electric bass, electric guitar, and keyboard, all electrophones that are not indigenous to the African rainforest. Towards the end of the song, the “Pygmy” part of this song is not as obvious; the latter part could have easily been a song originating from the West, one that simply sampled a few flute noises here and there. Also, overall the song sounds very “familiar;” beyond the influence of Western genres that I hear, on a more basic level the notes in this song sound like they were derived mostly from Western scales.

I personally really liked the piece throughout, but enjoyed it more when the Pygmy music influences were more evident; once the song moved beyond the more obvious blending of cultures, the song sounded almost too typical of what I would find in modern music here.

What were your initial impressions of this music, either of the traditional Pygmy music or of the Pygmy pop? Did this music remind you of anything, either from a cultural (like the Randai reference) or musical standpoint?

Indonesia’s identity is most defined by its diversity. While much of Indonesia is united under Islam (though other religions such as Christianity and Hinduism do exist), it is more of a country of multiple nations and cultures that happen to be under one government. Indonesian gamelan, for example, is more accurately defined by its specific, respective Indonesian island of origin. In the west part of Sumatra is the talempong gong ensemble of the Minangkabau, a sort of (though not necessarily considered) equivalent of gamelan. In addition, Java and Bali each have their own individual forms and styles of gamelan. Like the country of Indonesia itself, while all three forms of gamelan are classified under the same category and share common characteristics, they also have individual trais and reflect the differences of the cultures from which they came.

West Sumatran talempong manifests itself in two main styles: Talempong pacik, a processional ensemble, and talempong duduak, a seated style of talempong. Talempong pacik is typically played in processions such as weddings and other cultural rituals. Talmpong duduak is often played in more formal situations such as ceremonies and parties, as may be suggested by the fact that it is a seated ensemble. Overall, while both forms differ in ensemble style and social context, they both play music that is played in cycles with an emphasis on interlocking between the various voices in the pieces.

Central Javanese gamelan history is rooted in the courts of Java, particularly the court centers of Yogyakarta and Surakarta, which both helped to foster the arts. The social and cultural contexts of this form of gamelan, therefore, are more formal than the context of talempong, for example, in West Sumatra: In the court, gamelan is played in official ceremonies. Even outside of the court, gamelan is generally only played in cultural rituals such as weddings and funerals, civic and spiritual events, and social functions. The greater amount of formality is perhaps also reflected in the fact that one does not take a set of gamelan instruments to an event; rather, the event goes to the gamelan.

Gamelan belaganjur of Bali is a processional style of gamelan typically played in ceremonies such as cremations. The instruments in this processional style are actually derived from stationary ensembles such as gamelan gong kebyar and gamelan angklung. Like talempong and central Javanese gamelan, Balinese gamelan belganjur uses cyclical patterns and interlocking in its songs. The gamelan pieces are counted in cycles of eight, beginning on the eigth beat. This quality is similar to central Javanese gamelan, excepting the fact that central Javanese gamelan is played in cycles of sixteen. There are designated “female” and “male” gongs, named for the size of the gongs as well as the beats which they play; “female” gongs are larger and play at the beginning of the eight beat cycle, while “male” gongs are smaller and play on the fourth beat or every fifth and seventh beat of a cycle.

Musically, the talempong and two styles of gamelan make use of gongs, but the timbre of the various pieces differ. In a talempong piece titled “Urang Halaban,” for example, the sound of the gongs do not resonate long after being struck. As a result, the melody and various voices in the piece are much much more clearly defined. In central Javanese gamelan, however, the gongs typically have a much more resonant quality which contribute to a greater blending of voices and sounds. Not only do the qualities of the pieces differ from talempong pieces, but the techniques needed in playing are different as a result of this resonance; for example, metallophones in central Javanese gamelan must be stuck by a mallet in one hand while another hand must simultaneously stop the ringing of a previous note. In Balinese gamelan belaganjur, there are even greater differences found between different voices and gongs. The cymbals (an instrument which I have not heard used in west Sumatran talempong or central Javanese gamelan), for example, appear to be used as punctuating instruments or accents over the cyclical background music played by the gongs. In some ways, these punctuating cymbals appear to replace the melody that would be found in most talempong and central Javanese gamelan songs, as they initially garner the most attention from the listener. There are also very noticeable tempo changes; this quality seems to be found in Javanese gamelan, but less in talempong.

Honestly, when I first read “loud-style gamelan,” I imagined a lot of (musical) banging, loud dynamics, and, for some reason, a fast pace. The piece “Kembang Pacar” did not really fit any of the three. The quality of the piece makes it sound as though it was recorded live outside of a studio. The song begins somewhat sparsely. After a few seconds, however, the group playing truly begins, in which soft, bell-like instruments begin to play and interact with one another at different repeating rhythms, all at a slightly faster tempo than the introduction. I think I can hear some form of a leading melody, but the piece’s multiple voices make it somewhat unclear if I’m forcing a melody out of it (possibly a result of my Western-trained ears expecting there to be a main melody) or if there intentionally is one. The timbre of the instruments feels soft, like bells or gongs.

Soft-style gamelan was generally what I presumed it to be, but presumed with the limited knowledge that I have of the gamelan; that is, it was dynamically quiet, melodious, and had a flowing quality. There are vocalists in this piece, who sing in the same key as the rest of the instruments. However, sometimes it seemed that they weren’t singing in quite the same tempo. Anyways, I could hear what sounded like both men and women singing, and they were all singing the same notes, and did not harmonize with one another. The instruments fell into the background, playing the same series of notes over and over at the same rhythm, while the vocalists got to sing the melody.

The main difference I heard between the soft-style and loud-style gamelan pieces was the fact that loud-style song did not have a vocalist. I’m not sure if this is a typical characteristic of loud-style, but without it the listener naturally focuses on the instrumentation more. I also had an easier time finding the melody in the soft-style piece. I did find it interesting that both pieces had some sort of slow introduction, perhaps to prepare the players, after which the musicians all come in together and proceed to play at a faster rhythm. In the end, I found the loud-style piece, “Kembang Pacar,” more interesting than the soft-style gamelan piece. I like strong rhythms in songs, and this piece had a more definite rhythm than “Wilujeng,” in which the vocalists sounded less like they were really interacting with the instrumentation. The instruments also more obviously interact with one another in the loud-style song.

I listened to both the adhan from Egypt as well as “The Call to Prayer Ringtone,” and had trouble deciding which to write about. I was first curious about the ringtone; considering that the adhan is something sacred in Islam, using a commercial ringtone as the medium seemed somewhat paradoxical. Anyways, I thought it was very pretty, but strange. The constant drone beneath the echo-y muezzin’s voice sounded otherworldly and, with the constant wind and gray weather outside as I listened to it, a little creepy. To be honest, though, knowing that it was a ringtone affected my objectivity of the piece.

The adhan from Egypt was not particularly interesting to me at first. After listening to  what sounded like a more interesting and varied piece in the ringtone, hearing only chanting sounded plain, as shallow as the opinion was. However, after listening to the ringtone again, I immediately appreciated the chanting in the Egyptian adhan. The sound is a lot more raw, and as a result more intimate; without the processed voice or drone in the background, I could actually focus on the actual sound of the chanting and the way the muezzin used his voice. Plus, I’m sure that the way he chanted the adhan was a lot more true to how it would actually sound than the compuerterized ringtone.

So I guess the next question is, can we call the adhan music?

I feel strange trying to answer that question for the fact that I am an outsider. In Islam, it is sacrilegious to claim that the call to prayer is music. Do I have the right to discuss the validity of this prayer as music when I don’t have any religious connection to it? Is it right to discuss these pieces in an objective manner when there is so much subjective meaning behind them?

Personally, I would consider it music. There must be some musical sense involved when chanting the adhan; the muezzin, after all, is using his voice as a musical instrument and must, as a result, add some sort of musicality behind his chanting. But in the context of it being a religious prayer that is not supposed to be called music, I can’t make my case.

One of the most widely known jazz pieces must be the iconic “Take Five” by the Dave Brubeck Quartet. It is so common and prevalent that many people are familiar with the piece itself, but rarely with the title of the song or the composers; it’s a song that you know but know nothing about. With its syncopated rhythms, bouts of improvisation (though it becomes a little more predictable when it’s recorded), and saxophone, this classic piece embodies all that is jazz to the casual listener.

This summer, I finally saw The Graduate, and officially claimed it as one of my favorite movies. I basked in all of its cinematographic awesomeness as well as, of course, its Simon and Garfunkel soundtrack. I had heard the song “Mrs. Robinson” long before I ever had seen the movie. When I was younger, whenever I heard the song it always seemed to be shown with that famous scene in which Mrs. Robinson finally seduces Benjamin. From then on, the song “Mrs. Robinson” acted as an indexical sign for The Graduate for me. As a child, I interpreted the seduction scene to mean that the whole movie was about some old lady having an affair with a really young guy. Which it kind of is, but I like to think that the meaning’s a little deeper than that.

Anyways, play this song for me, and I can guarantee you that I will immediately be reminded of (spoiler alert?) ELLLAAAIIINNNE!!