...or, if you prefer to do your own singing:
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
The 12 Musings of Christmas
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
The 12 Composers of Christmas (The 12 Musings of Christmas #12)
...or, if you prefer to do your own singing:
The 12 Musings of Christmas
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
The 12 Tones of Christmas (The 12 Musings of Christmas #11)
Once again, today's feature isn't my own creation (though I wish it was), but it's a true Christmas classic that should be celebrated - and, I do have my own two cents to add. Richard McQuillan's "The Twelve Tones of Christmas" brilliantly houses a famous count-to-12 song within a 12-tone accompaniment, "fiendishly deployed to maximize the dissonance level," in the composer's words. He also scored it for the unusually piquant combination of ocarina and harpsichord, instruments which are perhaps even more chilling in digitally synthesized form.
I wrote a couple of years ago that it "sounds like the kind of thing that would be playing if Captain Kirk showed up on a planet ruled by some sort of eccentric aristocrat." In fact, I'm sure I was thinking of "The Squire of Gothos" episode, in which you can see the strange guest star playing some intergalactic Scarlatti at the 5:48 mark here. It's not 12-tone music, but it would be better if it was.
Anyway, Schoenberg supposedly dreamed of a day when children would be whistling 12-tone tunes in the street. We're not there yet, but I decided to do the next best thing and have my 9-year old daughter sing "The 12 Days of Christmas" while I played McQuillan's spiky accompaniment on the piano. Child labor laws being what they are and me trying to read from an iPad (which allows Airturn page-turning but makes for some small notes), I can't say I nailed every tone in the few takes we did. Perhaps an advanced ear training class could take on the challenge of figuring out where I betrayed the row. Nonetheless, I think it makes its effect, the child's voice bringing an extra layer of sweetness to the texture.
I wish I'd used separate mics to get better balance, and I wish I hadn't kept rushing ahead to the cadences; but the world needs more domestic 12-tone music-making, and I'm glad to have done my small part. Some day, perhaps, every home will have a harpsichord and Schoenbergiads will be commonplace - if not in this galaxy, then in some strange new world.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
I wrote a couple of years ago that it "sounds like the kind of thing that would be playing if Captain Kirk showed up on a planet ruled by some sort of eccentric aristocrat." In fact, I'm sure I was thinking of "The Squire of Gothos" episode, in which you can see the strange guest star playing some intergalactic Scarlatti at the 5:48 mark here. It's not 12-tone music, but it would be better if it was.
Anyway, Schoenberg supposedly dreamed of a day when children would be whistling 12-tone tunes in the street. We're not there yet, but I decided to do the next best thing and have my 9-year old daughter sing "The 12 Days of Christmas" while I played McQuillan's spiky accompaniment on the piano. Child labor laws being what they are and me trying to read from an iPad (which allows Airturn page-turning but makes for some small notes), I can't say I nailed every tone in the few takes we did. Perhaps an advanced ear training class could take on the challenge of figuring out where I betrayed the row. Nonetheless, I think it makes its effect, the child's voice bringing an extra layer of sweetness to the texture.
I wish I'd used separate mics to get better balance, and I wish I hadn't kept rushing ahead to the cadences; but the world needs more domestic 12-tone music-making, and I'm glad to have done my small part. Some day, perhaps, every home will have a harpsichord and Schoenbergiads will be commonplace - if not in this galaxy, then in some strange new world.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
Monday, December 22, 2014
Make it so (The 12 Composers of Christmas #10)
Day 10 might be considered either the best of times or the worst of times in "The 12 Musings of Christmas." This video is brilliant and entertaining, but I can't take ANY credit for it, nor have I creatively interacted with it in any sort of way. I'm just saying it's awesome. I'd penciled it in when I first started plotting out this series of specials, but I hadn't realized just how popular the video is, so I'm not sure I'm doing much service by possibly adding a few more numbers to the half a million who've already seen it. Nevertheless:
So, if you haven't yet seen Captain Picard et al singing "Let it snow"...make it so.
Also, since I'm here, I might as well mention (already tweeted) the perverse delight I experienced on Saturday at a Christmas pageant rehearsal. Using the accompanist edition of The Hymnal 1982, I was about to start in on the last phrase of "Hark, the herald angels sing" as a hymn intro. My foot headed for what I assumed was a B-flat in the pedal when I suddenly noticed there was no B-flat in the key signature...in the bass clef. The treble staff had the expected B-flat, so it's obviously a misprint, but that's a pretty big misprint. You might be wondering what it would sound like to hear the bass staff played without B-flats. Make it so!
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
Naturally, I did start thinking about ways I might interact with this idea, but I couldn't come up with anything half as clever. Plus, silly as it is, creating this video must've taken a LOT of time. I did notice a few years back that Charles Ives wrote a song which begins (in the piano part) with the first seven notes of "Let it Snow." It would be easy enough (trivial, really) to work the rest of "Let it snow" into Ives' open-door harmonic world, but I'm not sure that would be very entertaining since Ives' song isn't very familiar.
So, if you haven't yet seen Captain Picard et al singing "Let it snow"...make it so.
Also, since I'm here, I might as well mention (already tweeted) the perverse delight I experienced on Saturday at a Christmas pageant rehearsal. Using the accompanist edition of The Hymnal 1982, I was about to start in on the last phrase of "Hark, the herald angels sing" as a hymn intro. My foot headed for what I assumed was a B-flat in the pedal when I suddenly noticed there was no B-flat in the key signature...in the bass clef. The treble staff had the expected B-flat, so it's obviously a misprint, but that's a pretty big misprint. You might be wondering what it would sound like to hear the bass staff played without B-flats. Make it so!
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Savior of the Nations, Come (The 12 Musings of Christmas #9)
For the first eight days of "The 12 Musings of Christmas" I've focused on lighthearted holiday fare. On this 4th Sunday of Advent, which also happens to be the darkest day of the year, here's a more somber musical offering. (Yes, I know that running this series before Christmas should make it all Advent and that the real twelve days of Christmas start on the 25th. We'll put such complaints in the "so sue me" category.)
Many years ago, I had the idea of creating a complete set of piano transcriptions of the 46 short chorale preludes in Bach's Orgelbüchlein. (Busoni made characteristically rich transcriptions of a small selection, but at the time I wasn't aware of any complete piano sets. Now I am.) I only made it through about ten before putting the project on hold, but I might return to it some day. My idea had always been that this kind of repertoire is a great way for pianists to work on voicing and balancing dense counterpoint - and to get to know a type of Bachian keyboard writing different from what one finds in the suites and the Well-Tempered Clavier.
One of my favorites of Bach's collection is the first piece, Nun, komm', der Heiden Heiland, based on a chorale which the composer also featured elsewhere in a much more elaborate prelude and in a couple of cantatas. But I love the simplicity of this relatively straightforward setting, in which the tune is presented once, slowly, above a rich web of interlocking countersubjects. It's almost as if one hears Bach slowly harmonizing the tune one part at a time, so there's always something in motion and out of synch. I think of such music as tilted. (Here's my favorite tilted piece.)
I do play it more slowly (on organ and piano) than most, I suppose because I like hearing the gears turning. I have much more I could say about the arrangement, Bach on the piano, the fact that my piano needs tuning, the use of Lilypond as an engraving tool, and the way in which Bach's music beautifully captures the mystery of anticipation at this darkest time of year. But, it's almost midnight, so I'm going to let the starkness of the music, the arrangement, and the impromptu recording* speak for themselves:
And, if you're curious, here's what Bach's original version sounded like on the organ when I was practicing for Advent 2 a couple of weeks ago.
UPDATE: You can hear the chorale tune sung, followed by a real organist's performance of the Bach prelude here.
* made just minutes ago at the end of a very long day on this shortest day of the year.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
Many years ago, I had the idea of creating a complete set of piano transcriptions of the 46 short chorale preludes in Bach's Orgelbüchlein. (Busoni made characteristically rich transcriptions of a small selection, but at the time I wasn't aware of any complete piano sets. Now I am.) I only made it through about ten before putting the project on hold, but I might return to it some day. My idea had always been that this kind of repertoire is a great way for pianists to work on voicing and balancing dense counterpoint - and to get to know a type of Bachian keyboard writing different from what one finds in the suites and the Well-Tempered Clavier.
One of my favorites of Bach's collection is the first piece, Nun, komm', der Heiden Heiland, based on a chorale which the composer also featured elsewhere in a much more elaborate prelude and in a couple of cantatas. But I love the simplicity of this relatively straightforward setting, in which the tune is presented once, slowly, above a rich web of interlocking countersubjects. It's almost as if one hears Bach slowly harmonizing the tune one part at a time, so there's always something in motion and out of synch. I think of such music as tilted. (Here's my favorite tilted piece.)
I do play it more slowly (on organ and piano) than most, I suppose because I like hearing the gears turning. I have much more I could say about the arrangement, Bach on the piano, the fact that my piano needs tuning, the use of Lilypond as an engraving tool, and the way in which Bach's music beautifully captures the mystery of anticipation at this darkest time of year. But, it's almost midnight, so I'm going to let the starkness of the music, the arrangement, and the impromptu recording* speak for themselves:
And, if you're curious, here's what Bach's original version sounded like on the organ when I was practicing for Advent 2 a couple of weeks ago.
UPDATE: You can hear the chorale tune sung, followed by a real organist's performance of the Bach prelude here.
* made just minutes ago at the end of a very long day on this shortest day of the year.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
Saturday, December 20, 2014
A Christmas Carol (The 12 Musings of Christmas #8)
Today, we turn from distorted sleigh rides to a more sentimental type of musing. What's better than gathering the family around to watch a classic Christmas movie on a cold winter's Saturday night? How about watching a movie starring your family? Here we have my first ever cinematic production, a somewhat abbreviated filming of the Dickens' tale (which, itself, is a pretty short story) starring a variety of nieces and nephews. Here's what I wrote about it seven Decembers ago:
I know that posting it veers pretty closely into family insider territory on the level of making someone sit through all your vacation photos - which, come to think of it, is now pretty routine on Facebook. I don't expect everyone to be as charmed by my family as I am, but I do think this is a fairly unique document of...something. There's bad jokes aplenty, a singing fish, and some genuinely moving moments. And it's much shorter than all those other Scrooge movies!
I've posted this on YouTube in two parts before, but this is the first time it's available in a single movie, with somewhat improved video (though this was in the "Christmas past" days before HD.)
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
The backstory is that I'd just gotten a computer powerful enough to import and edit video (remember when that wasn't routine), so on the drive down to see our large assortment of adorable nieces and nephews that Christmas, my sister and I hatched the plan of making a movie. Dickens' tale seemed the obvious choice, and somehow the casting all worked out pretty easily too. Since many of the actors were under the age of 6, the basic process was to feed lines one at a time and shoot. I made all sorts of videoing mistakes, such as not realizing that when I stopped (not paused) and then restarted the camera, I'd lose the last few seconds of the previous take. This, and the realities of shooting the whole thing in a couple of days with young children (and those annoying child labor laws) meant that the editing task that followed presented some . . . challenges. Although it took me almost two years to brave the task, I had a great time working within these rather tight constraints.It's amazing to realize that the Scrooge and Bob Cratchit from this production are now college freshmen, and the even younger "Christmas girl" is dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy this weekend for an excellent ballet company. My oldest daughter was only a toddler at the time, so she only toddles on and off screen briefly in the party scene. This movie is definitely a ghost of Christmas past.
The final product is quite charming, and even features some special effects that tested the limits of the bargain-basement software I used. Of course the cute kids carry the film (my then 1-year old daughter makes a tiny cameo walking through the party scene), but the aesthetic point to be made here is that the constraints become a part of the language of the work. I wrote about that (and another family movie) in a past post, how certain flaws that would be unacceptable in one context are actually positives in another. (I was thinking something tangentially related the other day listening to Kermit the Frog sing on a Christmas album; that goofy, shaky voice would not be acceptable from just any singer, but our associations with Kermit's persona make it meaningful. Maybe the same could be said of Bob Dylan's voice, although his sound isn't as polished as Kermit's.)
I know that posting it veers pretty closely into family insider territory on the level of making someone sit through all your vacation photos - which, come to think of it, is now pretty routine on Facebook. I don't expect everyone to be as charmed by my family as I am, but I do think this is a fairly unique document of...something. There's bad jokes aplenty, a singing fish, and some genuinely moving moments. And it's much shorter than all those other Scrooge movies!
I've posted this on YouTube in two parts before, but this is the first time it's available in a single movie, with somewhat improved video (though this was in the "Christmas past" days before HD.)
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
Friday, December 19, 2014
Sleigh Ride in 7/8 Time (The 12 Musings of Christmas #7)
We conclude our "Sleigh Ride" portion of "The 12 Musings of Christmas" with an arrangement I can only say I wish I'd created. John Eidsvoog's suave setting of the tune in 7/8 time glides along with such elegance that it hardly sounds off-kilter, at least as he plays it:
When a friend posted it on Facebook a few weeks back, I found it so irresistible that I ordered the sheet music right away (a bargain at $3.99). It is as delightful to play as it is to listen to, in part because EIdsvoog writes in a wonderfully pianistic way; it's not easy, but everything feels right and natural under the hands. (My biggest objection to much new music I encounter is that it seems to be written against the hands and the instrument. Writing for the piano is a very sophisticated art in itself.)
Since I'm advertising it as a pleasure to play, I thought it would be fun to try to record it myself. The arrangement is listed by the publisher as an "Early Advanced" solo, and it does fit the hands beautifully, but it's still full of traps, especially because the hands leap around a lot. I could really use more practice, and I haven't quite gotten into that relaxed groove in which Eidsvoog glides along, but perhaps my rendition is thus more neurotic. (It's hard in 7/8 not to get caught up in the feeling of falling forward!) I tried recording it first reading from my laptop and using a page-turning pedal, but I don't really know the notes well enough to read them when they're so small - so, I found a handy page-turner in the house, and got this done in the first take. There were a few takes that followed, but things didn't improve, so the video below is Take One, unedited. (I'm sure there's a Law Of Faking somewhere that says, "the first time is always best.") Not perfect, but proof that I've played it.
[Oh yeah, since I took a portrait-mode video and had some blank space on the edges, I decided to add a little running meter counter. If you'd prefer to view without the numbers, go here.]
For regular readers of the blog, the following will seem inevitable, but when I first followed that Facebook link a few weeks back, I ended up clicking over to the sheet music link in another tab. Turns out the purchase page starts the same video playing so, yes, I was suddenly hearing the arrangement mashed up against itself. And, yes, I liked it! I couldn't resist recreating that experience, though I cheated by starting the second recording right as the first section is ending in the other. (I always miss that effect now when I play it.) Sounds like this:
It becomes frenetically chaotic at some points (I think in part because the arrangement goes briefly into 5/8 right after the "second entry," so the downbeats don't align for awhile.) But there are some really fantastic harmonic clashes along the way, and those high hits starting around 1:20 are especially exciting. I can't help but think of the greatest 7/8 piece ever written.
Prokofiev. Piano. Precipitato. Pollini. Perfection.
Finally, in a fortuitous coincidence, Eidsvoog's arrangement in 7 lands on Day 7 of "The 12 Musings of Christmas." I didn't even plan it that way.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
When a friend posted it on Facebook a few weeks back, I found it so irresistible that I ordered the sheet music right away (a bargain at $3.99). It is as delightful to play as it is to listen to, in part because EIdsvoog writes in a wonderfully pianistic way; it's not easy, but everything feels right and natural under the hands. (My biggest objection to much new music I encounter is that it seems to be written against the hands and the instrument. Writing for the piano is a very sophisticated art in itself.)
Since I'm advertising it as a pleasure to play, I thought it would be fun to try to record it myself. The arrangement is listed by the publisher as an "Early Advanced" solo, and it does fit the hands beautifully, but it's still full of traps, especially because the hands leap around a lot. I could really use more practice, and I haven't quite gotten into that relaxed groove in which Eidsvoog glides along, but perhaps my rendition is thus more neurotic. (It's hard in 7/8 not to get caught up in the feeling of falling forward!) I tried recording it first reading from my laptop and using a page-turning pedal, but I don't really know the notes well enough to read them when they're so small - so, I found a handy page-turner in the house, and got this done in the first take. There were a few takes that followed, but things didn't improve, so the video below is Take One, unedited. (I'm sure there's a Law Of Faking somewhere that says, "the first time is always best.") Not perfect, but proof that I've played it.
[Oh yeah, since I took a portrait-mode video and had some blank space on the edges, I decided to add a little running meter counter. If you'd prefer to view without the numbers, go here.]
For regular readers of the blog, the following will seem inevitable, but when I first followed that Facebook link a few weeks back, I ended up clicking over to the sheet music link in another tab. Turns out the purchase page starts the same video playing so, yes, I was suddenly hearing the arrangement mashed up against itself. And, yes, I liked it! I couldn't resist recreating that experience, though I cheated by starting the second recording right as the first section is ending in the other. (I always miss that effect now when I play it.) Sounds like this:
It becomes frenetically chaotic at some points (I think in part because the arrangement goes briefly into 5/8 right after the "second entry," so the downbeats don't align for awhile.) But there are some really fantastic harmonic clashes along the way, and those high hits starting around 1:20 are especially exciting. I can't help but think of the greatest 7/8 piece ever written.
Prokofiev. Piano. Precipitato. Pollini. Perfection.
Finally, in a fortuitous coincidence, Eidsvoog's arrangement in 7 lands on Day 7 of "The 12 Musings of Christmas." I didn't even plan it that way.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Sleigh Ride of the Valkyries (The 12 Musings of Christmas #6)
Yesterday, I mentioned that not all YouTube commenters are thrilled with my Sleigh Ride in a Fast Machine. Then there was this more positive (?) comment:
I can't disagree with ol' Curt - I didn't even post the "Sleigh Ride of the Valkyries" on my blog when I first created it. But, it's grown on me over the years - more smash-up than mash-up, perhaps. The opening actually works pretty well, and the final cadence has a nice whiplash effect. The less said about the middle, the better. I think what I like best about the whole thing is the unlikely combination of Sleigh Ride's completely good-natured merriment and Wagner's slashing menace.
Anyway, to quote Taylor Swift, "haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate." Nicholas Slonimsky has famously documented a wide-ranging number of great works that were initally panned by critics. In fact, when the #fakeAMS meme was going around a few years ago (mimicking the absurdist style of so many musicology paper titles), I proposed the following:
If this holiday offering disappoints you, I can also recommend Matthew Guerrieri's 2006 Dreidel Attraction, in which the Valkyries take a ride Wagner would never have imagined:
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
I can't disagree with ol' Curt - I didn't even post the "Sleigh Ride of the Valkyries" on my blog when I first created it. But, it's grown on me over the years - more smash-up than mash-up, perhaps. The opening actually works pretty well, and the final cadence has a nice whiplash effect. The less said about the middle, the better. I think what I like best about the whole thing is the unlikely combination of Sleigh Ride's completely good-natured merriment and Wagner's slashing menace.
Anyway, to quote Taylor Swift, "haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate." Nicholas Slonimsky has famously documented a wide-ranging number of great works that were initally panned by critics. In fact, when the #fakeAMS meme was going around a few years ago (mimicking the absurdist style of so many musicology paper titles), I proposed the following:
A New Lexicon of Musical Invective: The YouTube Commentariat as Aesthetic Arbiters for the Petit bourgeoisie #fakeams peer-review: kate97485
— Michael Monroe (@MMmusing) September 30, 2011
It's true that this "work" was also initially panned by me, but what do I know?If this holiday offering disappoints you, I can also recommend Matthew Guerrieri's 2006 Dreidel Attraction, in which the Valkyries take a ride Wagner would never have imagined:
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
- Christmas Time is Here
- In Season
- Vertical Christmas Medley
- Trippin' with Chestnuts
- Sleigh Ride in a Fast Machine
- Sleigh Ride of the Valkyries
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Sleigh Ride in a Fast Machine (The 12 Musings of Christmas #5)
This will be a quick post - a fast ride, if you will. We're entering the "Sleigh Ride" portion of these twelve days, so today's special is a 2010 Anderson/Adams combo. If you don't know John Adams' scintillating Short Ride in a Fast Machine, here's a short, fast video to get you up to speed:
Adams' piece has also taken on a life as a "music history survey" piece that shows up in a variety of textbook anthologies. Strangely, it's often presented as a rep for Minimalism, even though there's more variety and clear forward momentum here than is typical of such music - of course, the "short" quality is handy for those survey courses where the last fifty years are generally handled in something like half a class. Anyway, it's a delightful fanfare, full of vibrant orchestral color and sophisticated syncopations, and it actually works pretty well with Leroy Anderson's biggest hit. In fact, I only just learned tonight that Mr. Adams himself has viewed and posted about this mashup in a good-natured manner.
Of course, with attention comes notoriety, and I've noticed one YouTuber complaining "If the tempos were lined up this might actually make a good mashup. As it is, it just sounds a bit like a mess." Well, yeah. It's more a mildly elaborate realization of a pun than a fully realized musical concept. However, I think the way the the pulses phase in and out of each other is actually related to the kinds of metrical phasing characteristic of much Minimalist music. Yes, there are audio-manipulation tools that might make it possible to synchronize the beats more squarely, but audio layering provides some wonderful opportunities for phasing effects that would be extremely difficult to realize in real time. I enjoy trying to follow both tracks as they weave in and out from each other. As it is, with the Short Ride slowly coming to the fore as the mashup progresses, Adams' sharp accents do interact pretty effectively with horse and sleigh. Or so I choose to believe, even if scottallen1990 disagrees.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
Adams' piece has also taken on a life as a "music history survey" piece that shows up in a variety of textbook anthologies. Strangely, it's often presented as a rep for Minimalism, even though there's more variety and clear forward momentum here than is typical of such music - of course, the "short" quality is handy for those survey courses where the last fifty years are generally handled in something like half a class. Anyway, it's a delightful fanfare, full of vibrant orchestral color and sophisticated syncopations, and it actually works pretty well with Leroy Anderson's biggest hit. In fact, I only just learned tonight that Mr. Adams himself has viewed and posted about this mashup in a good-natured manner.
Of course, with attention comes notoriety, and I've noticed one YouTuber complaining "If the tempos were lined up this might actually make a good mashup. As it is, it just sounds a bit like a mess." Well, yeah. It's more a mildly elaborate realization of a pun than a fully realized musical concept. However, I think the way the the pulses phase in and out of each other is actually related to the kinds of metrical phasing characteristic of much Minimalist music. Yes, there are audio-manipulation tools that might make it possible to synchronize the beats more squarely, but audio layering provides some wonderful opportunities for phasing effects that would be extremely difficult to realize in real time. I enjoy trying to follow both tracks as they weave in and out from each other. As it is, with the Short Ride slowly coming to the fore as the mashup progresses, Adams' sharp accents do interact pretty effectively with horse and sleigh. Or so I choose to believe, even if scottallen1990 disagrees.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
- Christmas Time is Here
- In Season
- Vertical Christmas Medley
- Trippin' with Chestnuts
- Sleigh Ride in a Fast Machine
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
The Rite of "Spring Sonata"
We interrupt the "12 Musings of Christmas" with this special musicological news bulletin. (It is Beethoven's birthday, after all.)
[UPDATE: Looking at it again the next day, I realize it would've made more "musical" sense to start Stravinsky's chords in that third measure, right after the sfp. Those actually look like the "rite" chords. Maybe later...]
...and done!
...and, there's more [Updated 12/17]:
I'll just exit by affirming that I've had better luck with these chords in the past:
When you break a story (as I did three years ago) about how Stravinsky's famous Rite of Spring chords were originally sketched by Beethoven for possible use in his "Eroica" Symphony, a few things happen. First, people warily avoid any mention of the scoop because the truth frightens people; the musical world just goes about its business as if nothing had happened. But also, as I've learned, sometimes strange men with hybrid German/Russian accents approach you in the back of libraries to whisper secrets that dare not be uttered in the light of day. So it is that I was recently presented with more Beethoven sketches (too fragile to be photographed as of yet) that prove Beethoven had also imagined using these same famous chords in what would come to be known as as his "Spring" Sonata.
It's always been a bit of a mystery as to how this sonata got its name, but these sketches make it pretty clear that Beethoven had something much darker in mind before he took a left turn (opposite of rite) and published one of the sunnier sonatas in the repertoire. The music is still being painstakingly reconstructed from the sketchy sketches, but here's a sampling of what Beethoven might've had in mind, if he'd truly had the spirit of a revolutionary....OK, wait, I gotta admit, this is one of my least successful experiments ever. I thought the idea of a Rite of "Spring Sonata" seemed clever enough, and these fairly distinctive repeated chords in the Beethoven seemed to be the rite place for Stravinsky's famous chords to intrude:
...and it could probably work if enough work was put into it, but I'm gonna step aside here and leave this as is.
[UPDATE: Looking at it again the next day, I realize it would've made more "musical" sense to start Stravinsky's chords in that third measure, right after the sfp. Those actually look like the "rite" chords. Maybe later...]
...and done!
...and, there's more [Updated 12/17]:
I'll just exit by affirming that I've had better luck with these chords in the past:
Trippin' with Chestnuts (The 12 Musings of Christmas #4)
We continue the mashup theme (surprise, surprise) for Day #4 with a particularly quirky favorite of mine. As I wrote when I created this a few years back, The Christmas Song used to be one of my least favorite seasonal staples - just too maudlin and sappy for my generally cynical tastes.* But, as A Mighty Wind proves to me every time I watch it, having a little fun with sentiment can put just enough of a spin on the experience that I end up laughing AND enjoying the sentiment. I've got issues:
Anyway, I'll save myself some time by quoting MM2010:
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
* I've also been realizing, while planning Advent/Christmas hymns for the year, that perhaps my two least favorite sacred Christmas tunes are the ever-popular O little town of Bethlehem (the "St. Louis" one) and It came upon a midnight clear. Each sports a kind of late 19th century chromaticism that just doesn't sit right. Perhaps I need to mix them together....
Anyway, I'll save myself some time by quoting MM2010:
The beauty of this song for mashup purposes is that it's already so soupy that it blends quite naturally, like Campbell's® in a casserole - and what better to blend it with than itself? Instead of "double the Johnny [Mathis]," I've enlisted Mr. Tony Bennett to man the other half of this duet, and as an added bonus, Tony's in a different key! Yet, because both arrangements are so schmaltzy and mellow, with their hazy rhythms and beds of sappy strings, the blend doesn't sound stridently dissonant - just blurry and, well...trippy. And, quite frankly, the Mathis version was pretty trippy already; I'm just helping it towards its logical conclusion...
To be specific, Mathis is in D-flat, and Bennett's a whole step up in E-flat - like some sort of global appoggiatura. As with my Callas-Fleming "Canon a 2 Tempi," I just set these guys off at the same time by synchronizing the "Chestnuts," and then let the individual phrases fall where they fell. Tony pulls ahead pretty early, but things settle into a satisfying, lazy back-and-forth for much of the rest of the song. My favorite happy coincidence is how Mathis finishes up (technically, his version is supposed to go over the bridge again, but I cut that) and then fades into the end of the Bennett playout, so we get an almost Coplandesque final cadence. Almost.I'm probably as proud of the visuals as anything else, but at this point the music sounds pretty right to me as well; there's something genuinely intoxicating about letting the mind drift back and forth from tune to tune and key to key. And you may have noticed that this tune I once derided now proudly serves as the emotional climax of my In Season medley. Although it's been said many times, many ways, perhaps "Merry Christmas" hasn't been said bitonally often enough.
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
- Christmas Time is Here
- In Season
- Vertical Christmas Medley
- Trippin' with Chestnuts
* I've also been realizing, while planning Advent/Christmas hymns for the year, that perhaps my two least favorite sacred Christmas tunes are the ever-popular O little town of Bethlehem (the "St. Louis" one) and It came upon a midnight clear. Each sports a kind of late 19th century chromaticism that just doesn't sit right. Perhaps I need to mix them together....
Monday, December 15, 2014
Vertical Christmas Medley (The 12 Musings of Christmas #3)
Today's feature is something both old and new. Even before I had a blog, way back in Aught Five or so, I created a little online greeting card titled "Merry Christmas from the Ives Family," which effectively reduced Charles Ives to the idea of throwing a bunch of tunes together in chaotic simultaneity. (Be warned that music will play automatically if you follow that link.) I made a blog version in 2007 (same warning) which added the option of hearing the individual tunes in isolation. It was designed rather cleverly but clumsily as a webpage with embedded audio, back in the days before YouTube had become a ubiquitously effective multimedia delivery system.
So, I've figured for years that I should bring this, perhaps my first-ever mashup, into the more user-friendly world of YouTube; that day has finally come. I've even updated the hard-working little pianists so that they are, more or less, in synch with their own tunes - and you can still click on each pianist to hear what he's doing. This lets you experiment with the interesting concept of how seeing affects what you hear. If you focus on just one of the pianists below, does it help your ear isolate the tune he represents?
This old audio/new video makes a nice companion to yesterday's In Season. It even shares a flaky background with the "In Season" snowman webpage. Both mashups allow you to consolidate your holiday listening in an efficient and engaging (?) manner as you tune your ears this way and that. As I've written before, a favorite feature of this feature is "the way it illustrates the tendency for tunes to be more rhythmically active in the middle of measures/phrases; there's this sort of frenetic undulation as the rhythmic activity quickens and then slows. It definitely puts me in the Christmas spirit."
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
So, I've figured for years that I should bring this, perhaps my first-ever mashup, into the more user-friendly world of YouTube; that day has finally come. I've even updated the hard-working little pianists so that they are, more or less, in synch with their own tunes - and you can still click on each pianist to hear what he's doing. This lets you experiment with the interesting concept of how seeing affects what you hear. If you focus on just one of the pianists below, does it help your ear isolate the tune he represents?
This old audio/new video makes a nice companion to yesterday's In Season. It even shares a flaky background with the "In Season" snowman webpage. Both mashups allow you to consolidate your holiday listening in an efficient and engaging (?) manner as you tune your ears this way and that. As I've written before, a favorite feature of this feature is "the way it illustrates the tendency for tunes to be more rhythmically active in the middle of measures/phrases; there's this sort of frenetic undulation as the rhythmic activity quickens and then slows. It definitely puts me in the Christmas spirit."
The 12 Musings of Christmas (so far...)
- Christmas Time is Here
- In Season
- Vertical Christmas Medley
Sunday, December 14, 2014
In Season (The 12 Musings of Christmas #2)
Today's offering is actually the most recent of the MMmusing Christmas creations, but since it debuted a bit pre-seasonally in November, here it is again as Day #2 of "The 12 Musings of Christmas."
I've done a few live readings of this with the family, but since we number only five (two violins, two cellos, and piano), we're a little thin texture-wise. Plus, two of our performers are under 10. Hopefully, I'll get some document of that posted eventually.
In the meantime, I only learned yesterday, via this epic Matthew Guerrieri article, of the amazing "In C" Performer iPad app. It lets you control 12 independent parts performing Terry Riley's minimalist masterpiece, the work on which my humble little creation is based. My first reaction to that news was to be a little disappointed, because I'd been fantasizing about creating a program to do much the same thing; but the truth is, I probably wouldn't have gotten around to it (not even sure I have the programming chops), certainly not before In C's 50th anniversary years ends in a few weeks.
So, I downloaded the free app, started "playing," and thirty minutes later, I'd overseen a complete, somewhat rushed, performance. It was somewhat rushed because my 7-year old son (who loves anything called "app") was supposed to be going to bed, and he was almost as mesmerized as I was watching things unfold. I didn't want to get us in trouble for keeping him up past his bedtime, so I punched through some of the fragments pretty quickly. (If you try it, I recommend following Riley's loose instructions and keeping all the parts within 2-3 patterns of each other, though that often enough broadened out to 3-5.)
Guerrieri cheerfully concedes that the app is "compulsively fun," though he also expresses some speculation about how it might undermine Riley's idea/ideals:
Perhaps I'll set my sights on designing a program to help you create your own In Season performance...
I've done a few live readings of this with the family, but since we number only five (two violins, two cellos, and piano), we're a little thin texture-wise. Plus, two of our performers are under 10. Hopefully, I'll get some document of that posted eventually.
In the meantime, I only learned yesterday, via this epic Matthew Guerrieri article, of the amazing "In C" Performer iPad app. It lets you control 12 independent parts performing Terry Riley's minimalist masterpiece, the work on which my humble little creation is based. My first reaction to that news was to be a little disappointed, because I'd been fantasizing about creating a program to do much the same thing; but the truth is, I probably wouldn't have gotten around to it (not even sure I have the programming chops), certainly not before In C's 50th anniversary years ends in a few weeks.
So, I downloaded the free app, started "playing," and thirty minutes later, I'd overseen a complete, somewhat rushed, performance. It was somewhat rushed because my 7-year old son (who loves anything called "app") was supposed to be going to bed, and he was almost as mesmerized as I was watching things unfold. I didn't want to get us in trouble for keeping him up past his bedtime, so I punched through some of the fragments pretty quickly. (If you try it, I recommend following Riley's loose instructions and keeping all the parts within 2-3 patterns of each other, though that often enough broadened out to 3-5.)
Guerrieri cheerfully concedes that the app is "compulsively fun," though he also expresses some speculation about how it might undermine Riley's idea/ideals:
"The In C iPad app can even be interpreted as underlining the factory-like aspects of the piece. The performers, the cogs—the workers, just like so many others—have been replaced by technology: cheaper, more efficient, more pliable."It's true that the "community" aspect of the music is lost when it's just me working the buttons on an iPad screen, but the app underlines another important aspect of In C and In Season and so many mashups (more on those in days ahead) - that random or semi-random juxtapositions can lead to all sorts of satisfying possibilities. Yes, it's true that a great performance of In C probably depends on performers who know how to listen and make good decisions in the moment, but the outcome still relies on chance much more than the typical jazz improvisation. I'm not sure how many more times I'll "play" the app (my fear is that every time I open it, I'll be lost to the world for an hour or so), but it's like magic watching/hearing varieties of interlocking patterns (Riley called them "fantastic shapes") emerge. I know that I'm exercising some limited amount of control, but the texture is so rich that I have to admit that many of the most delightful intersections simply seem to materialize on their own.
Perhaps I'll set my sights on designing a program to help you create your own In Season performance...
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Christmas Time is Here (The 12 Musings of Christmas #1)
Trying something a bit different this year. My posts tend to be lengthy rambles and cover lots of tangential topics, but who has time for that in December? So, for the next twelve days, I'll simply be featuring various holiday creations, including some favorites that I only wish I had created. We start with one of the must humble of my own efforts. My sister needed some opening credits music for an "extended family" version of A Charlie Brown Christmas she'd produced. My then 6-year old middle child had not had a very big role in the movie, so she was asked to sing Vince Guaraldi's "Christmas Time is Here" over the opening credits. I took the lazy route and found a karaoke file for the backing track and then set her up with some fancy headphones as she sang through the song multiple times. I then did a bit of patching together to make her a one-girl chorus, and here you go:
Pretty much speaks for itself. #2 drops tomorrow.
Pretty much speaks for itself. #2 drops tomorrow.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Louange à l'éclat de Messiaen
Somewhere in the midst of the day, I saw someone mention that today is Olivier Messiaen's birthday. This set my mind to wandering a bit, and I thought of Bruce Adolphe's gorgeous "Piano Puzzler" setting of Hey Jude, in which McCartney's tune wanders among a series of transcendent chords from Louange à l'Éternité de Jésus, the particularly radiant fifth movement of Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time. I played Adolphe's arrangement in a "mashup" recital I gave in 2013.
So, I figured a birthday tribute might be in order. I'm slightly torn about taking such an overexposed tune and mixing it in with Messiaen's transcendent musical visions, but I think Messiaen wins here, with the tune coming across more beautifully than I'd expected. I've heard many, many "Happy Birthday" transcriptions "in the style of" various composers (including this), but somehow this one doesn't end up sounding silly to me.
For some reason, I first panicked about posting this before Messiaen's birthday ended overseas, so seconds before midnight in Paris, I twittered out a link to a hurried synthesized version, which you can hear below. Within the hour I'd also recorded a live piano version; but best of all, I've now talked the house cellist into a cello/piano version, which is how the 5th movement of Messiaen's quartet is scored. We got this down in one take after dinner, and though I wish the piano was better tuned, it's worth remembering that the composer premiered this monumental work on a very humble-looking prison camp upright piano, so I probably shouldn't complain. Happy birthday, Olivier!
So, I figured a birthday tribute might be in order. I'm slightly torn about taking such an overexposed tune and mixing it in with Messiaen's transcendent musical visions, but I think Messiaen wins here, with the tune coming across more beautifully than I'd expected. I've heard many, many "Happy Birthday" transcriptions "in the style of" various composers (including this), but somehow this one doesn't end up sounding silly to me.
For some reason, I first panicked about posting this before Messiaen's birthday ended overseas, so seconds before midnight in Paris, I twittered out a link to a hurried synthesized version, which you can hear below. Within the hour I'd also recorded a live piano version; but best of all, I've now talked the house cellist into a cello/piano version, which is how the 5th movement of Messiaen's quartet is scored. We got this down in one take after dinner, and though I wish the piano was better tuned, it's worth remembering that the composer premiered this monumental work on a very humble-looking prison camp upright piano, so I probably shouldn't complain. Happy birthday, Olivier!
What lurks under the sea of my mind?
Last Friday at my kids' school assembly, all the children and parents were invited to sing along in a rousing rendition of "Under the Sea." I've always had trouble keeping lyrics straight in general (to the great amusement of a new church children's choir I rehearsed on Sunday), but "Under the Sea" has always presented a special problem for me. For as long as I can remember, the first four pitches have invariably sent my mental pathways scurrying over to another tune, to the point that I've never really internalized "Under the Sea" as its own thing. Here's the way it tends to go in my head:
[For those concerned about my sanity, I really didn't spend much time on this!]
As I've emphasized many times in the past, this kind of connection isn't the kind of thing I intentionally go looking for, and though there's nothing profound about the mashup itself, I am endlessly fascinated by what stumbling on this kind of connection says about how listening works. On a fairly trivial level, this kind of link is closely analogous to a verbal pun (and my mental pathways seem programmed to look for those just as readily) - as with a pun, the fun is in finding a close bond between two seemingly unrelated entities.
But, given that pattern-recognition plays a pervasive role in musical perception, this kind of experience is also a useful way to zero in on how the brain organizes what it hears. (I'd guess it's related to how facial-recognition works.) My musical Christmas fragments play off the fact that a small group of pitches, organized in a certain way, can immediately trigger an association with a specific tune. In "We are the Sea," there are only four shared pitches, and they're not particularly distinctive as a group, but the fact that each has mi-re-do (scale degrees 3-2-1) functioning as pickups into a downbeat on la (6) means each tune (each is actually the beginning of a refrain) arrives first on a IV chord instead of the much more common I. So, that shared harmonic implication is probably a key factor in giving these four pitches a reasonably strong identity.* I'd call it a fingerprint, except fingerprints aren't supposed to be shared. (Yes, each tune has its own differently syncopated rhythm as well, which I've chosen to obscure in the C Major-ified version below.)
Indeed, the fact that four pitches can be building blocks for a seemingly infinite variety of tunes is the point of Leonard Bernstein's wonderfully engaging "Infinite Variety of Music" talk, which I uploaded to Youtube a few years back. That discussion is focused on the even more basic sol-do-re-mi ("How dry I am") pattern; but, I think the little four-note "under the world" descent above has a significantly more distinctive quality.
Just when I thought I was almost done with this post, I had the idea of looking for online resources that would show what other tunes have this particular fingerprint. I first checked out this "best classical tunes" online dictionary, which lets you input scale degrees via keyboard or solfège syllable. It turned up seven "classical" matches, though only one (as far as I can tell) that starts with the 3-2-1 landing on a downbeat 6: this lovely theme from Tchaikovsky's 6th:
However, in this case the arrival on B (scale degree 6) is still harmonized with a I chord, with that B treated as a dissonant appoggiatura that resolves to the chord tone A. So, this doesn't quite fit the mold.
Then, for the first time in some time, I remembered Harold Barlow's remarkable Dictionary of Musical Themes, which I used to browse forever in school libraries. Someone has created a fairly unsatisfying digital version of that database here (only returns MIDI audio, no scores images and the search function has issues), but I was able to download an enormous PDF of the whole thing here!
Man, do I ever love this book - so much so that I just ordered a hardback copy since the PDF is a bit unwieldy for browsing and because...because I wanted to have that book in my hands again! Barlow's handy "all converted to C Major" index turned up 14 matches (Tchaikovsky is T282):
I happily "thumbed" through the PDF to check out each tune and found that only one (B710)
meets the "land on a downbeat IV chord" requirement, this theme from a Beethoven Sonata I learned a few years after "We are the world" debuted:
I'll admit I'd never heard "We are under the sea-world" while playing this piece, perhaps because the rhythm is so unsyncopated, and because the "pickup" notes are harmonized as well, even though the IV chord is still the first major harmonic stop along the way. But I do find it easy enough to hear the affinity now, and it's definitely closer than what I hear in Tchaikovsky's tune. Neither of these databases searches the enormous melodic worlds of pop/rock/folk/jazz, so there's probably a larger family of "we are the sea" tunes, but I still think it's a pretty distinct species.
It's possible that I particularly enjoy this little mashup because I'm not such a big fan of either tune on its own.** Thus, like a phoenix rising from the anacrusis, this new anthem of underwater unity beckons to us all - or, at least, to all of us who get these tunes mixed up. Turns out I'm not the only one, as I discovered this (less artful) mashup on Youtube right after posting mine. (My version transposes "Under the Sea" and adjusts tempos a bit to make the recordings fit better.) I was kind of sad to see that someone had beaten me online, but also strangely comforted to know it's not just me. Is it you as well?
P.S. Right after posting this, I discovered this excellent online tool: Themefinder. Enter 3216 into the scale degree box and you'll get the same (?) 14 matches as Barlow...plus lots more from folksong and Renaissance reps, but still no pop/rock/jazz. Nevertheless, this site is A M A Z I N G. Note that Bernstein's "How Dry I Am" theme turns up 149 classical matches! I may be spending the rest of my days on this site...
* Speaking of close melodic identities, I was amused/alarmed to see someone trying to assert online that John Williams' "Can You Read My Mind?" theme from Superman is not closely related to the transfiguration theme from Richard Strauss's Death and Transfiguration. On this comment thread, we read:
[Click on the examples to hear them played.]
** I'm definitely not a big fan of either tune, but I've got to admit that revisiting "We are the World" was a fun trip down memory lane. It happened to come out during the one year of my life that I listened to Top 40 radio regularly, and I can still remember being completely perplexed by the sound of Bob Dylan's voice, which I'm not sure I'd ever heard before. (It's not a coincidence that his solo made it into my mashup.) The whole production is pretty hokey, but there's something genuinely moving about watching this diverse group of stars (Paul Simon, Kenny Rogers, Tina Turner, Al Jarreau, Cyndi Lauper...) seem really to enjoy singing together - to be themselves while also looking beyond themselves and enjoying the camaraderie. I've since come to understand Dylan's voice as something other than comical, although I still am bewildered that anyone wants to hear Bruce Springsteen sing anything - he sounds horrible and just about ruins the song. That oh-so-earnest gravel always sounds more like affectation than authentic to me, whereas Dylan (and even Cyndi Lauper!) don't bother me nearly as much. Go figure.
Final Point: I know Do they know it's Christmas? came first, but in my totally biased view, We are the world is far superior. USA! USA! USA!
[For those concerned about my sanity, I really didn't spend much time on this!]
As I've emphasized many times in the past, this kind of connection isn't the kind of thing I intentionally go looking for, and though there's nothing profound about the mashup itself, I am endlessly fascinated by what stumbling on this kind of connection says about how listening works. On a fairly trivial level, this kind of link is closely analogous to a verbal pun (and my mental pathways seem programmed to look for those just as readily) - as with a pun, the fun is in finding a close bond between two seemingly unrelated entities.
But, given that pattern-recognition plays a pervasive role in musical perception, this kind of experience is also a useful way to zero in on how the brain organizes what it hears. (I'd guess it's related to how facial-recognition works.) My musical Christmas fragments play off the fact that a small group of pitches, organized in a certain way, can immediately trigger an association with a specific tune. In "We are the Sea," there are only four shared pitches, and they're not particularly distinctive as a group, but the fact that each has mi-re-do (scale degrees 3-2-1) functioning as pickups into a downbeat on la (6) means each tune (each is actually the beginning of a refrain) arrives first on a IV chord instead of the much more common I. So, that shared harmonic implication is probably a key factor in giving these four pitches a reasonably strong identity.* I'd call it a fingerprint, except fingerprints aren't supposed to be shared. (Yes, each tune has its own differently syncopated rhythm as well, which I've chosen to obscure in the C Major-ified version below.)
Just when I thought I was almost done with this post, I had the idea of looking for online resources that would show what other tunes have this particular fingerprint. I first checked out this "best classical tunes" online dictionary, which lets you input scale degrees via keyboard or solfège syllable. It turned up seven "classical" matches, though only one (as far as I can tell) that starts with the 3-2-1 landing on a downbeat 6: this lovely theme from Tchaikovsky's 6th:
 | |
|
[Listen starting at 4:45 here.]
Then, for the first time in some time, I remembered Harold Barlow's remarkable Dictionary of Musical Themes, which I used to browse forever in school libraries. Someone has created a fairly unsatisfying digital version of that database here (only returns MIDI audio, no scores images and the search function has issues), but I was able to download an enormous PDF of the whole thing here!
Man, do I ever love this book - so much so that I just ordered a hardback copy since the PDF is a bit unwieldy for browsing and because...because I wanted to have that book in my hands again! Barlow's handy "all converted to C Major" index turned up 14 matches (Tchaikovsky is T282):
I happily "thumbed" through the PDF to check out each tune and found that only one (B710)
meets the "land on a downbeat IV chord" requirement, this theme from a Beethoven Sonata I learned a few years after "We are the world" debuted:
 | |
|
[Listen starting at 0:50 here.]
I'll admit I'd never heard "We are under the sea-world" while playing this piece, perhaps because the rhythm is so unsyncopated, and because the "pickup" notes are harmonized as well, even though the IV chord is still the first major harmonic stop along the way. But I do find it easy enough to hear the affinity now, and it's definitely closer than what I hear in Tchaikovsky's tune. Neither of these databases searches the enormous melodic worlds of pop/rock/folk/jazz, so there's probably a larger family of "we are the sea" tunes, but I still think it's a pretty distinct species.
It's possible that I particularly enjoy this little mashup because I'm not such a big fan of either tune on its own.** Thus, like a phoenix rising from the anacrusis, this new anthem of underwater unity beckons to us all - or, at least, to all of us who get these tunes mixed up. Turns out I'm not the only one, as I discovered this (less artful) mashup on Youtube right after posting mine. (My version transposes "Under the Sea" and adjusts tempos a bit to make the recordings fit better.) I was kind of sad to see that someone had beaten me online, but also strangely comforted to know it's not just me. Is it you as well?
P.S. Right after posting this, I discovered this excellent online tool: Themefinder. Enter 3216 into the scale degree box and you'll get the same (?) 14 matches as Barlow...plus lots more from folksong and Renaissance reps, but still no pop/rock/jazz. Nevertheless, this site is A M A Z I N G. Note that Bernstein's "How Dry I Am" theme turns up 149 classical matches! I may be spending the rest of my days on this site...
* Speaking of close melodic identities, I was amused/alarmed to see someone trying to assert online that John Williams' "Can You Read My Mind?" theme from Superman is not closely related to the transfiguration theme from Richard Strauss's Death and Transfiguration. On this comment thread, we read:
"This claim has been around in print since at least 1979. And it's completely bogus.This simplistic analysis overlooks the fact that the leap up to that "e d" descent has a very strong fingerprint which I discussed in this post. The three shared pitches are easily the most important structurally. You can follow that link to read more about my reasoning, but, as with "Under the Sea" and "We are the World," the proof of the connection is that I heard it before ever thinking about it. (And yeah, sure, the tunes then go in completely different directions; the point is that just a few pitches, shaped in a certain way, are enough to make a distinct melodic character.)
Can You Read My Mind: C E G e d
Death and Transfiguration: C D E e d
Of the five notes, three are the same and two are different. And after these first five notes, the rest of the melodies are completely different."
[Click on the examples to hear them played.]
** I'm definitely not a big fan of either tune, but I've got to admit that revisiting "We are the World" was a fun trip down memory lane. It happened to come out during the one year of my life that I listened to Top 40 radio regularly, and I can still remember being completely perplexed by the sound of Bob Dylan's voice, which I'm not sure I'd ever heard before. (It's not a coincidence that his solo made it into my mashup.) The whole production is pretty hokey, but there's something genuinely moving about watching this diverse group of stars (Paul Simon, Kenny Rogers, Tina Turner, Al Jarreau, Cyndi Lauper...) seem really to enjoy singing together - to be themselves while also looking beyond themselves and enjoying the camaraderie. I've since come to understand Dylan's voice as something other than comical, although I still am bewildered that anyone wants to hear Bruce Springsteen sing anything - he sounds horrible and just about ruins the song. That oh-so-earnest gravel always sounds more like affectation than authentic to me, whereas Dylan (and even Cyndi Lauper!) don't bother me nearly as much. Go figure.
Final Point: I know Do they know it's Christmas? came first, but in my totally biased view, We are the world is far superior. USA! USA! USA!
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