Devra Freelander

Pravo Horo

Before Reading: This is a fast-paced Bulgarian piece,  and it sounds like the meter is 2/2. There is a clear bassline that alternates between the tonic and the fourth below it for essentially the entire piece, only changing when the key of the other instruments change as well. The other instruments sound like brassy oboes or clarinets; I’m not sure what instrument that could be in a Bulgarian context, but perhaps something akin to a soprano saxophone.  The percussion is minimal; either there is a subtle snare on every downbeat, or some other instrument is being played in such a way that a percussive noise is being made on the downbeat. Either way, it helps keep the tempo of the piece with the bass, so that the saxophone-esque instrument can improvise freely over it. Overall, there is a feeling of both the tempo and pitch increasing throughout the piece, to reach an incredibly fast and feverish pace by the end.

After Reading: I laughed out loud when I did the reading to accompany this piece, because it legitimately looks like I wrote my ‘before’ section based on the it. I guess that’s a good thing, though, considering this is my last listening journal and I should be able to pick up on the important characteristics of the music by this point. I stated that I wasn’t sure of the Bulgarian equivalent of the clarinet/saxophone-y main instrument, and that’s beacuse there is no Bulgarian equivalent, it simply IS the clarinet (or saxophone– the reading did not specify which is used in this piece, but both are common to wedding band music.) Electric basses are also used, as well as drum sets, which I would assume are the other instruments in this piece. Because these instruments have such a wide range, rapid key changes are common, and this piece had several of them. The high demand for wedding band music in Bulgaria means that instrumentalists are incredibly precise and virtuosic with their instrument, and unmetered improvising during songs was a way of showing this virtuosity; this song also had a few unmetered improvisational sections played by the clarinet/main melodic instrument. The fast tempo and increasing fervor of this piece make it ideal for wedding dancing.

Arrangement of Folk Instruments

Before Reading: This is a dizzying whirlwind of a piece, with an almost epileptic arrangement of flute and string instruments battling over what sounds like an Irish step dance. At first, all the instruments are playing together so that no one is noticeable, but over the course of the song, it seems that one instrument is given a “solo spot” at a time while the others play quieter in the background. It sounds like the gaida, or bagpipe, is the first to perform a solo, followed by a flute solo that siwtches into a more minor-sounding key, with the strings humming quietlyvin the background to give it a muted feeling. Next, the string instrument takes the main stage, bringing the major key, and loud volume, back to the piece. Once this crescendo occurs, there is no returning to the previous muted volume, and the piece rages on as loud as ever. There is no percussion in the song, although about 3/4 of the way through there is some sort of rattle/noisemaker, akin to the Jewish “grogger” used on Purim; I’m not sure if this is intentional, or just background noise, as the song seems to have been recorded at some festive event (there is much chatter in the background.)

After Reading:  The fast-paced meter and exciting dynamics of this piece make it ideal for dancing, an essential element of Bulgarian folk music. The scene from Titanic where Jack and Rose dance in the 3rd class cabin to Irish music comes to mind– that same intense, frenzied partnered dancing must translate well with these suites. The ’string instruments’ were, in fact gudulkas, the flutes were kavals, and the bagpipe was, as predicted, a gaida. There was no mention of the noisemaker I heard 3/4 of the way through the piece, so I’ll assume it was just background noise from the festival.

Sncc Freedom Singers – We Shall Overcome

(There is no way for me to analyze this song from a Before/After Reading standpoint, as I am already too familiar with the piece to do so honestly. I will, however, attempt to examine the technical aspects separately from the meaning and cultural context of the piece.)

From a purely technical standpoint, this song is classic gospel choir music, bursting with vocal harmonies and vibrato. While there is a clear leader that begins the song, and belts the opening line, his presence is merely to inspire everyone else to join in. Assuming this is being sung in a church setting, the congregants join in next, singing in unison with the leader. Finally, once this powerful unison has been established, some sort of choir (who has clearly rehearsed this before) adds several layers of vocal harmony, the most prominent being a deep bass line. Although the song sounds like a typical a capella peice, it is very much so participatory music; the repetitive melody and simple lyrics allow newcomers to catch on quickly to the core part, while the trained choir (and other brave singers) can elaborate on the melody by harmonizing, riffing, or adding to the bassline. Additionally, after the first verse, the leader shouts out “We Are Not Afraid”, the only lyrics that change for the second verse, to ensure everyone can sing along.

“We Shall Overcome” was the anthem for the civil rights movement in the 1960s, and to this day represents freedom, justice, and perserverence. The simple structure of the song has a calming, profound quality that is representative of these beliefs. The lyrics are incredibly poignant, because they are so peaceful– almost passively so, if one can be passive while overcoming something. There is no anger or agitation in them, only hope and patience. The context of this song is so strongly embedded in my subconscious that I cannot imagine what it would sound like to an uninformed listener; I am always overwhelmed with emotions when I hear it, from pride at how far America has come to sadness at how long it has taken us. It is an incredibly poignant song whose relevancy remains today.

Hwa Hwa (Chimurenga) – Thomas Mapfumo

Before Reading:  The song starts out with a solo mbira, without any buzzing, plinking out the basic melodic structure of something that could be indigenous Shona music. A hosho comes in breifly after, further proponing the assumption that this is indigenous style music– but a cheesey snare drum set and electric guitar soon drop in, changing the aesthetic frame of the song to that of cheesey world-beat. The song soon dismisses this label as well, though, when Thomas Mapfumo’s vocals come in; they are not the low, straight-toned vocals i expected from the smooth-jazz-esque guitar riffs, but rather indigenous yodeling techniques, where the singer exaggerates the switch between “head voice” and “chest voice” frequently and deliberately, to achieve a yelp-y sort of noise reminiscent of Pygmy hooting, but with lyrics. The next addition to the song is a choir, including female vocalists, singing with Mapfumo in the chorus of the song, in a quasi-call-and-response manner, though Mapfumo sings through all of it. Between the indigenous-inspired elements (mbira, hosho, and vocal styles), and the “modern” guitar and drums, the song effectively straddles the border between musical genres, tactfully appealing to a wide range of audiences.

After Reading: Chimurenga, or indigenous based guitar music, originated as liberation music in Zimbabwe during the Liberation War in 1965. The songs were used to subtly promote nationalism, by constructing an “identity” for Zimbabwean music; Thomas Mapfumo did so by utilizing musical techniques that borrowed from “the past” (indigenous styles), but also incorporated guitars and drums to connect the nationalist movement with a modern cause. This explains the initially confusing framework of Hwa Hwa; the song’s intention is to unite all the musical styles in Zimbabawe to create one singular identity, so of course the instruments and genres will be mixed.

Mbira dzavadzimu: Nhemamusasa (at bita)

Before Reading: The texture of this piece is incredibly dense, with several loud shakers/rattles, a xylophone-esque melodic instrument, clapping, and several different types of vocals (a ‘lead singer’ who is yodeling, whistles and hoots from other participants, and the occasional riff from someone who is not the ‘lead’ singer.) The xylophone-esque instrument seems to be playing a cycle of notes, but the rhythm is hard to pin down; the first two “measures” of the cycle fit into 4/4, but the others don’t fit in this pattern as evenly, and notes carry over if you count it out in 4/4. This piece is clearly participatory music; not only are there several different voices contributing to the recording, but the dense texture encourages anyone to jump in, and the beginning and end of the recording “feather” in and out, another trait of participatory music as described by Turino. It is incredibly repetitive, essentially the same four measures of core melody repeated over and over, while clapping and voices elaborate on the basic structure. Comparing this piece to Takht ensembles from Egypt, it makes me think of  ‘Tarab’,  or the state of ecstasy achieved through repetitive  music and dynamic audience interaction.

After Reading: This was in fact a recording of a Spirit Possession ceremony, where one person (the lead singer) acts as a spirit medium for an ancestor to convey advice or warnings to family members. The ceremony is only successful if the music and dancing can create a passionate atmosphere for the possession to take place; this  is incredibly reminiscent of  Tarab in Takht ensembles, where similar possession takes place through repetitive music. The shaker I heard is called a hosho, and is the most important part of the ensemble because of it’s volume and core rhythm that everything else is based on. The xylopone-esque melodic part is called a Mbira, and is a metallophone, or thumb piano. The rhythmic cycles a mbira uses are incredibly complex, and are a mix of 4/4 and 3/4 (it helps to count out of 12, as both will finish the cycle at the same time.)  It is an incredibly participatory ceremony, as the possession is only possible if everybody in the community contributes somehow.

Hindewhu (BaBenzele) from BlackBoardBefore Reading: There are clearly two forces at work in this song: some sort of flute, and (possibly female?) vocals. Because the two parts never overlap, it is possible that it is one person both playing the flute and singing– tiresome, but possible. The flute stays on the same pitch throughout the entire piece, and plays the same rhythm the entire time. In this way it serves more as a metronome than an instrument, as it’s consistent pulse provides a canvas for the vocals to elaborate on. There are three main syllables used by the vocalist: ee, oo, and yah (sort of yip or yelp-y.) Ee and Oo are alternated between most of the time, and yah is only used on the highest notes, about three times total. In Western terms, the sections involving Yah would probably be considered a chorus or bridge, while the Ee/Oo sections would be the verses. The melody is strophic, and very easy to catch on to.After Reading: Hindewhu is the onomatopoetic name for a  song that alternates between single-pitch papaya-stem whistle and vocals, as popularized by the BaBenzele pygmies of Africa, so my assumption of vocals and flute-ish instrument were correct. I previously assumed that these songs could be performed by one person or more than one– the reading confirmed my hypothesis, stating that Hindewhu can be performed as a solo, duet, or with many people. This simple melodic structure has been tweaked and sampled in many pop songs, such as Madonna’s Sanctuary (and, transitively, Watermelon Man by Herbie Hancock.)

Javanese Gamelan PracticumBefore playing the Gamelan myself, I had a very skewed perception of the ensemble. I imagined that every component of the ensemble required an equal skill level (read: were all difficult to play), and that every part was equally involved in the instrumentation. I was not entirely incorrect, but had much to learn from our lesson.I, as someone with little musical experience, was worried I would embarrass myself in front of the class, and so I chose a gong that had little tonal variation to worry about. However, after going through the rhythmic cycles, I realized my part was much easier than I had expected, and immediately wanted to move to something more intricate. With my pride blind-sighting my experience, I moved to the melodic part, and ended up getting thoroughly embarrassed by my lack of skill. This surprised me; not only did the different parts vary greatly in difficulty, but in prominence as well. If I had messed up on my original rhythmic gong, few would have noticed; on the melodic part, though, everyone could literally hear my distress. After a few cycles, though, I got the hang of the new part, and started to enjoy myself.The variance in participation, prominence and skill level is what surprised me the most about our Gamelan Practicum. Every part requires a different amount of concentration and dedication; some gongs will sound once every hour, while other have an intricate part during every bar. This allows for a great diversity in players, as demonstrated by the members of our class; Those with little experience can contribute to the less complicated rhythmic parts, while virtuosic players can handle the melodic and elaborative parts.

(1 Buburan ‘Kembang Pacar’ from BlackBoard)Before Reading: This Gamelan piece sounds very ethereal and contemplative upon the first listen, probably because of the repetitive melody and slow, deep bass pitches. The instrumentation starts out slow and sparse, with the melody repeating the same four notes or so for several bars, before switching to a new four and repeating those.  A strident, string-sounding instrument echoes the melody’s pitch every three bars or so, and the bass gongs are struck once for every “cycle” of notes (one bass gong per four melody gongs, roughly.) It seems like there are four areas that the Gamelan is devoted to– melody, bass, percussion/rhythm (some sort of drum is evident in the beginning especially), and quasi-harmony (the possible string instrument.) The melodic structure is incredibly strophic, adding to the ethereal quality of the piece. This repetition of rhythm and pitches allows the listener to relax, as there is no urgency to “catch” all of the notes; they’re bound to resurface later.After Reading: Repetition is the key to Javanese Gamelan music, and this piece is indicative of that. A gongam, or the musical unit represented by a complete melodic phrase, is repeated throughout the piece, with different gongs assigned to certain beats joining the basic melody each refrain. This layering of rhythms and pitches causes certain gongs to coincide at different times, indexing an important component of Javanese culture–number cycles. Interestingly, the reading mentioned how audience members are expected to leave during the performance, as it can get lengthy and redundant. This certainly agrees with my earlier suspicions that the cyclical nature of the piece does not demand much focus from the listener. There was no mention of the string instrument I noticed, although the reading was incredibly vague with it’s instrument descriptions. Overall, this piece is a classic example of the cyclical nature of Javanese Gamelan.

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