The Muppet Show’s version of El Condor Pasa
El Condor Pasa has become a world phenomenon, and somewhere far submerged in the consciousness there may be the remnants of indigenous elements. The song has come to symbolize Peru in global culture. This is evident in the Muppets’ far-flung version, featuring puppet goats and hens with a background of Macchu Pichu.
The introduction of this piece sounds nothing like what we have listened to of Andean Music. It begins with two stringed instruments. String instruments are not at all indigenous to the Andes. Thus far, we have been studying Aymara music, which strongly utilizes panpipes and the drum. As this piece progresses, the panpipes (or perhaps this is a flute) enter, and the sound becomes more familiar. Based on the instruments, as well as the clapping audience at the end, I think its pretty obvious that this is performed not for a participatory and indigenous audience, but for a more cosmopolitan framework.
I also come to this conclusion based on my own interpretations of this piece. Its sound is smooth and appealing to me, and I would consider myself to be a part of this cosmopolitan grouping. Indeed, the music is quite captivating. The flute-like instruments interlock well with the stringed instruments and percussion in the background. The alternation between the higher and the lower flute give the piece a sort of happiness, which is in contrast to the beginning of the piece. The two different flutes (pipes?) sound like they are having a conversation. Before the flute arrives, there seems to be an orchestrated sound that is mysterious and could be interpreted to be almost sad. Towards the end, increased percussion ups the liveliness and a strange sort of whistle punctuates the piece before it fades out to clapping.
The repetition of the piece, as well as the flutes lend some credit to an indigenous musical foundation, but other than that the piece sounds like a cosmopolitan Andean folkloric ensemble, in which indigenous elements, other than the breathy flutes, are not particularly inherent.
On another note, the most immediate example of El Condor Pasa that came to mind was Simon and Garfunkel’s rendition.
The second piece, Krivo Plovdivsko Horo, is profoundly complex. It is labeled “folk orchestra.” In context, this makes sense. The order and composition of the music seems to have elements of western structure woven into it, but the majority of instruments sound Bulgarian.
The flute solo (Is this kaval that is being played?) is quite pronounced and interlocks with the other instruments. It sounds like quite a few embellishments are added. Is there room for improvisation in this piece, or is it strictly formal? The formality of the piece can be sensed in its western structure, but I am interested in the context of this piece.
Is it used as accompaniment to ceremonies or festivals, or is it presentational by nature? What is the political history behind this piece? I believe this piece would fall under Rice’s definition of “cultivated folk music.” Was this an effort, as the reading hints, to make Bulgarian folk styles more cosmopolitan and appealing to a wider audience?
To date, how has politics affected Bulgarian folk music as a whole? Today, is folk music more a combination of western and traditional styles, or is the music similar to what one might have heard one hundred years ago?
Nhemamusasa is interesting; there are a lot of different things going on in this piece. A man is singing and is supplemented with other men singing, calling, and perhaps what sounds like whistling. Between the singing and the calling there exists some colorful interlocking. There is a constant rhythm being produced by what sound like maracas and a xylophone-type instrument. After listening for some time I realize this last instrument reminds me of steel drums and Caribbean music (what little of it, unfortunately, I have listened to.) There seems to be significant social context behind this song. It is obviously inclusive of a number of performers and could perhaps be important in a ceremonial or celebratory event. This piece seems to be worlds apart from BaMbuti music.
The second Nhemamusasa seems like it could be a demonstration, so I am hesitant to apply social significance to it. Nonetheless, I enjoy the progression of the piece; from simple to polyrhythmic. The two main instruments that sound like xylophones are woven together in an artful fashion. I am curious to know what the instrument keeping the beat is. It sounds atypical for percussion instruments.
Nhemamusasa form is evidently complex in the third example. This reminds me that one can listen to a piece and analyze it as a whole, even while noting the individual parts. But, when you break music down, it becomes exquisitely intricate in form. And, when you put it all back together again, you can appreciate it even more.
Gamelan Beleganjur stands out as unique amongst other Indonesian gong ensembles for both contextual and musical reasons. Firstly, Gamelan Beleganjur is portable; that is, gongs and other instruments are constructed or altered with the intention of being playable in processions. Most of the gong ensembles we have studied are stationary ensembles. While Gamelan Beleganjur is used for events such as temple anniversaries and cremations, we have studied ensembles devoted to supplementing puppet shows, dances, plays, weddings, etc (all of these, of course, are mostly stationary occurrences). It seems that unlike the other ensembles we have studied, Gamelan Beleganjur has an element of competition to it and seems like it could be more popular.
Musically, Beleganjur has some interesting elements. Like most other ensembles, gongs predominate. Unlike Talempong, or loud and soft style Gamelan, however, Beleganjur incorporates cymbals into its ensemble, and drums play a fairly dominate role as well. Beleganjur seems to have a much faster tempo than the other gong ensembles we have studied. Like Gamelan Ladrang and Gamelan Buburan, Beleganjur usually increases in tempo towards the end of the piece. Also like other ensembles, it possesses a great deal of interlocking. I found it interesting that some of the examples of Beleganjur on the website emphasize how performers of Beleganjur oscillate or shift between loud and soft styles, whereas other gong ensembles seem fixed to one specific style within a piece.
Some key contrasts are evident between loud-style Javanese Gamelan in the example of Buburan ‘Kembang Pacar’ and the soft style Ladrang ‘Wilujeng’. First and foremost, Ladrang ‘Wilujeng’ contains voice. At the outset of the piece there is only one woman singing, but she is joined by others throughout the piece. Buburan ‘Kembang Pacar’ is purely instrumental.
The two pieces have somewhat similar introductions, which makes me wonder if there is a prevailing introductory style in Javanese Gamelan. Both pieces start out with a single instrument being played. ‘Wilujeng’ begins with what sounds like some sort of chordophone, but it could perhaps be an aerophone. This seems like it would be uncommon in Gamelan, but maybe it is more common in the softer style. ‘Kembang Pacar’ starts out with a gong, an instrument more typical to Gamelan.
Both pieces quickly progress to include multiple instruments. True to their styles, ‘Wilujeng’ is softer than ‘Kembang Pacar’, and in a way it is not as haunting or dark as the latter. Perhaps this is because of the female voices in ‘Wilujeng.’ Indeed, the title ‘Wilujeng’ seems to imply a softness….the word sounds like “Willow” to me, and when I think of a Willow tree I conjure up imagery of peaceful surroundings. In contrast, the sound of the title ‘Kembang Pacar’ just sounds more pronounced and harsh. It does, after all, contain the English word “bang.” I suppose this is just a coincidence?
The pieces progress similarly. They seem to each have a repetitive and even rhythm until near the end, when both pieces speed up and then exit with a slower rhythm. The performers of ‘Wilujeng’ sound as if they are intentionally making the piece sound softer, perhaps by playing the instruments in a soft manner. The pitches of the instruments are higher than those of ‘Kembang Pacar’, in which the instruments with lower pitch are played and it sounds as if they are played more forcefully. (By the way, since I am sooooo musically unskilled, please correct me if I am wrong here.)
Regardless of differences between the two pieces, they both exude an aura of mystery to me. I really enjoy the eerie sound of Gamelan. I am curious to know if others feel the same way…
The three pieces all seem to incorporate similar musical instruments (gongs and drums, I think?), are relatively cyclical in form and have transparent textures. “Sidi” has more transparency than “Urang Halaban” and “Minangkabau,” as one musical instrument (I’m not sure what it is – an aerophone of types?) is much more distinct yet interwoven with the other instruments. “Urang Halaban” is more “crazy” than the other two pieces – it has a faster tempo (is that the correct term?) and seems to be bursting with excitement. “Minangkabau” seems to be the most organized and deliberate.
The fact that there is more than one performer in all of these pieces demonstrates that their places of origin contain at least some community inclusiveness concerning music. I imagine that music plays a considerable role in the societies from which these songs originate. It is hard to tell from the examples whether music is an element that includes many or most members of society or is limited only to a select group of performers. From my musically untrained ear, it simply sounds as if this music is inclusive of multiple persons, requires much attentiveness and practice, and commands respect, prestige, and meaning from within the community.
“Adhan” (Call to Prayer)
This piece is beautiful. Islam as a religion has long fascinated me, and I am excited to be learning about the musical culture of the religion. Since this is titled as a call to prayer, I am not sure I can correctly call it music. It is, of course, sound. I think, based on the musical terms we have learned, that the melodic organization of this sound, the man’s voice, would qualify as a monophony. The sound of this piece is not wholly unfamiliar to me. In a sense, the intonations of the man’s voice remind me of music arising from the Middle East and of the presence of Judaism in my early life. The songs I would sing with the small Jewish community I grew up in sound familiar to this.
There seem to be some background noises in the piece. I imagine the man performing this call to prayer is in a Mosque, and perhaps the background sounds are activities around or near the man, like preparations for prayer. Based on the quality and strength of the man’s voice, I imagine he has had considerable training. All in all, I am fascinated by his voice and its sound, and I would like to learn the meaning of his call.
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