Baroque Bows and the Bearded Lady

On a CD that I've recently received for review is a symphony by Peter Maxwell Davies but of more interest to me on the same disc is a piece by Davies called "Cross Lane Fair" which, written in 1994, was inspired by memories of a childhood fairground.

This composer is notorious for his dislike of pop music and will quickly leave places that pump out wallpaper musak. Minimalist music he dismisses as repetitive and having no interesting musical development. I'm afraid I always steered clear of his music, finding it too cerebral and difficult for me. I've changed my mind.

The old rebel of contemporary music is up to his ninth symphony which will be performed at this year's Proms for the first time on 23rd August. Nine is a particularly important number for the major symphonists, as you may well know. "Cross Lane Fair", an admittedly comparatively much lighter work than the symphonies, is scored for chamber orchestra, Northumbrian pipes and an Irish drum, the bodhrán. The pipes consist of one chanter, usually with keys, and four drones. Each note is played by lifting only one finger or by opening one key and the effect which is comparatively staccato combines with the small bore of the pipes to create a much quieter instrument than the full-blown bagpipes, hence they are less primitive in effect. The bodhrán is the most basic of drums. It consists of a circular frame on which is mounted a single skin. The player is usually seated with the drum held vertically and one hand placed inside the frame on the skin. This hand is then used to control both the volume and the pitch of the sound while the other hand beats the skin, either directly or with a "cipin" or "tipper".

The Art of Choking

My musical month has revolved around events common to many of us, not least the Jubilee celebrations. There have also been the usual assortment of more personal experiences, one or two of which I'd like to share now. A couple of radio items caught my ear. The first was a "Thought For The Day" considering the amount of training and concentrated effort that goes into making a top athlete. Even with everything in place, it sometimes happens that an athlete will then "choke" on the day, will lose focus, rhythm, concentration. The reason may be simply trying too hard, allowing the chattering uncertainties of the mind to get in the way of the body's instinctive ability, programmed in by long months of training.  Now simply substitute "music" for "athletics" and "practice" for "training" and the equivalence is complete. The solution to choking, according to "Thought For The Day", is to let go and allow an inner grace to hold sway.

The athletic theme was taken up by another R4 programme describing how athletes use music as an integral part of training, for warming up, for working out and for event preparation. Rhythm plays a major part in this, the magic 120-140 beats per minute holding the key.  Red Bull have this year sponsored the composition of a piece of music written, or should I say designed, for all the different components in the training and performance potential of one of our top Olympic athletes.

The Great Animal Orchestra

I like diversity in music and I also enjoy writing about it when I can take one or two completely diverse musical experiences or ideas and then attempt to weld them into something interesting and coherent. This blog's content is inspired by 1. A hobo wandering around the USA in the 1930s  2. A sound recordist of environmental sounds around the world and 3. A rock guitarist's collaboration with a contemporary composer. What brought these themes together was a walk in the spring of the North Yorkshire moors. I took an unscheduled break in early April and visited my sister and her husband who live in Middlesbrough, my home town. When young, I couldn't wait to get away from the place, now I enjoy all of my return visits. My brother-in-law is a keen walker and we always take time out for exploring. When I walk I can chatter, listen to the sounds around me and allow my thoughts to sort themselves out.

The said hobo is - or was - Harry Partch, a renegade musician who sought inspiration for his music from everything he heard around him. What he heard and wanted to reproduce couldn't be done on classical orchestral instruments so he set himself the task of inventing and building the instruments on which to play his music. I received for review a CD set called Bitter Music (Bridge) and expected this to be a recording of some of Partch's music. However, it turned out not to be this but was a spoken recording of his diaries as he bummed his way round America, hitching lifts and dossing with the other vagrants. The composer's narrative was illustrated with musical incidents and brief slices of incidental music scored to quotes from fellow travellers.

Super Strings

After banging on a bit that the Ancient Greeks used music as a means to understanding how the universe works, my attention was grabbed by a contemporary equivalent. It appears that the fundamental structure of matter is no longer considered to be particular, but, going even more microscopic than the particle level, consists of tiny bits of string. It's not relevant to ask what these strings are made from as they are fundamental - they consist of themselves and that's it. These strings oscillate and like the strings on a violin create the equivalent of different notes.  Each of these resonant modes makes a different type of subatomic particle, the building blocks of matter.  It would seem that those super strings oscillate and create a music that holds the whole damn universe together. Speaking as a musician, how cool is that. Is this why music is intuitively of fundamental importance? Without it the world would collapse.