In my youth, I had a great liking for super-hero comics. My favourites
were those Marvel Comic staples of Stan Lee, "The Fantastic Four" and
"The Silver Surfer". I still have one or two early editions of these,
now classics. On Saturday evening, I couldn't resist watching a film on
TV, "The Rise of the Silver Surfer", if only for the spine-chilling
moment when The Surfer reappeared on earth. Naturally, my wife made some
disparaging remarks about failing to grow up and I guiltily knew she
was quite right. Can you feel a "however" coming? Here it is: however, I
am currently reading a book by James Naughtie called, "The Making of
Music" (thanks for the loan, John). Now, I thought this would not really
add to the numerous books I've absorbed on the history of western
music, but James Naughtie adds a flavour of his own brilliant
journalistic and political awareness to create a bit of a musical page
turner. Oh, and of course you can hear inwardly his mesmerising Radio-4
voice while reading it. The point is that in his discussion about
Richard Wagner he makes clear the mythological power in which Wagner's
music is rooted, music which brings those hidden powers to light in the
form of operatic gods and goddesses. Wagner's operas are not that far
distant from the super-hero adventures of my Silver Surfer, The Human
Torch, The Hulk, Stretcho and the Invisible Woman.
There have been so many times over the years, that I've been on the
brink of disposing of all my old vinyl. It takes up valuable space, the
discs rarely if ever are played and CDs and downloads are so much more
convenient and durable. So far, I've resisted the temptation, which,
as time goes by, is receding. Thank, heavens. I heard this morning that
the great Colin Davis has died. Wiki: "Sir Colin Rex Davis, CH, CBE,
Hon DMus (25 September 1927 – 14 April 2013) was an English conductor
best known for his association with the London Symphony Orchestra,
having first conducted it in 1959.
"His repertoire
was broad, but among the composers with whom he was particularly
associated were Mozart, Berlioz, Elgar, Sibelius, Stravinsky and
Tippett." On hearing this seismic news, I plunged into the depths of my
crusty old cellar to dig out from a collection of abandoned LPs one
that I could remember in particular.
My orchestra is a member of the umbrella organisation, Making Music, and through this I learnt about a major "expo" for music teachers at the London Barbican, which happened during a couple of days last week. This was a major event of workshops and an exhibition sponsored by Rhinegold Publications and I decided to toddle along for a look round. I'm glad I made the effort. When I arrived, I thought it could be a waste of time for me, but that was not the case. I'm primarily a musician and although I teach music, the expo was really for full time teachers from schools and colleges, so I felt at first that I was intruding. However, I found a vibrant hall full of businesses and organisations madly promoting their musical offerings, all aimed at assisting the teaching fraternity. I just felt it was all worth a mention here as there is clearly much energy and enthusiasm going on, particularly in the field that most interests me, namely music technology. I was a bit alarmed at being asked on more than one occasion what my departmental budget is, but I soon realised that much of what was on offer was of direct relevance to loose-cannon teachers, such as myself. So, just a note of congratulation is in order to the organisers - thanks from me. Oh, yes, and I discovered the Musical Ear software, which I can't wait to try out...
It's all Cornelius Cardew's fault that I wrote a piece of music in my head on the way home on the bus from Gloucester today. You heard it here first. It stems from his scratch orchestra for making contemporary music accessible to amateur musicians. The piece I heard about is called "The Great Learning" and I thought to myself, I could do that with variations. My original bit is to play an orchestra as if it was a single musical instrument. A "soloist" stands in front of the orchestra-as-instrument like a conductor, but instead of conducting a score he/she improvises on the orchestral instrument within the compass of some set rules. Those set rules turn this experiment into a particular piece of music but one which will sound different every time it is played. OK, this is how it works for what I'll call "Climbing Music". Every member of the orchestra waits until the soloist points at them and then they begin to play the key note of a scale, e.g., a low G in the key of G major. They continue to play it until the soloist points at them again and then they move to the next note in the scale, A, etc. When each player reaches the leading note, F sharp, their next one will be back to the low G.
The effect should be of a gradual musical hill climb with shifting harmonics, harmonies and dischords partially under the soloists control but largely open to chance. To make it more interesting (and this is what Cardew did), another rule is that if a player gets bored playing a note, they can move on to the next one without being "triggered" by the soloist, but they can only do this if they are moving in unison with another player. I'm going to try this out on some unsuspecting group of musicians. Hopefully, the musical hill climb will end naturally and spontaneously at some point. Anyone like to be there at the premiere?
