How's that hora go?

Man,
Tzip and I were at a birthday party at a park today, and there was dancing and singing.
"uvshavte mayim vesason..." nobody could quite remember all the steps to the dance. Sad.
I knew the steps when I was 10. But that was a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away.

Arnold Schoenberg's Wrong Notes

I just gave my first ever graduate level music theory presentation. They subject was the Piano Piece Op.33a, by Arnold Schoenberg. This piece is in the "expressionist" musical style known as twelve tone. That is to say, all twelve pitches are arranged into a row; this row can be played forwards, backwards, upside down, or backwards and upside down (not to be confused with upside down and backwards, that was Stravinsky when he discovered twelve tone, and is not the same thing at all!). The end result sounds like ... well .... um ... find a piano, take your hand, and bang randomly. But on paper, it looks pretty and is great fun for theorists to analyze.

It's kind of like musical Sudoku with a 12 x 12 matrix instead of 9x9. You can never repeat a note in a row or column, and you can make other partitions where notes aren't repeated if you want to; the parts of the puzzle that make up those other partitions need not be adjacent. Like sudoku, that's where each three by three box can't have repeats. In twelve tone music, we call it hexachordal combinatoriality - boxes of six notes that go together with other boxes of six notes to make up all twelve.

The thing is, I'm not a theorist, I'm a composer. And a tonal composer to boot. Which means I go to great lengths to sound exactly like not-Schoenberg, and yet still be somewhat modern sounding.

Which brings me to my presentation, and why I was giving it at all, since it is not even something that was assigned for a grade. Our prof is writing a book on Schoenberg which includes an analysis of this piece, which he presented in class. You see, this particular piece has what have been called the 'famous wrong notes.' That is to say, if you make the sudoku matrix for this piece, following the standard rules and operations, and align all the notes in the score with the top row form from the matrix, you get two 'wrong' notes. Apparently they have for the most part been analyzed as such. However, I was thinking like a composer - we care about things like counterpoint - and blurted out that it looked like if you circled all of the notes in the adjacent measures that repeat, you get the melody, but up a tritone, and that note is one of the repeated notes, so it can't be wrong. It's one of those basic rules of counterpoint - the long/held repeated note is alway right, unless the composer is a complete idiot, in which case we wouldn't be studying him anyway, and Schoenberg wrote several books on counterpoint. (Crap, now I have to go look at my own music to find where I have been an idiot by that definition.) Furthermore, those repeated notes are going forwards slowly while the other notes are going backwards fast, so there's some complex counterpoint involved.

This is the only time I can remember in my education where, sitting in class, I saw something that apparently nobody had considered before, at least that the prof knew of. That was pretty cool. (It does turn out that one theorist considered the theory behind my solution but didn't bother to address in his publication, or the 'wrong notes' in particular, because that was outside of the scope of his paper.)

So the professor told me to work it out, present it in class, and he's interested in helping me publish it. It went well, and I have a couple nice Powerpoint slides which I can drop into my paper later on.

Except that I have to change the color, because I found the exact shade of blue that doesn't photocopy. I forgot about that color, that photocopiers ignore, and I just picked a nice light blue.
I made copies for everyone and there was a gap in the middle of one of the pages.

Oh, since this is my Jewish blog, Schoenberg was Jewish. Then he wasn't. Then he was again. Then he wrote a setting of Kol Nidre. Then he got so scared of the number 13 that he dropped dead of a heart attack on Friday the 13th.

Jewish Poetry and Homeland

I am a master's student in music composition, and for more that a year off and on, I've been working on a song cycle about the refugee experience. I started the project with an idea in mind, that I wanted to use poetry that was Jewish in nature and yet universal, and which reflected the feelings of many diaspora refugees I have known. More specifically, I wanted to find poetry that conveyed a sentiment of longing for the place the refugee left, the lost homeland.

This turned out to be more difficult than expected. You see, there has been a formula used in Jewish diaspora poetry which seemed almost universal. You see, homeland must refer to Israel. Always. I'm not going to cite poets right here and now, because it's been a while, and this is not an academic treatise on the subject. And I want to finish the post before Shabbes. I suppose I could have written my own, but as Tzipporah says, I should keep my day job and leave lyrics to the professionals.

But I lucked out. I found an amazing book of poetry by marrano (converso) authors. [A side discussion about whether they were actually jewish might be interesting.] The book is Marrano Poets of the Seventeenth Century, and in it are several works by some amazing poets. I found the works of Antonio Enríquez Gómez to be particularly inspiring. He was a man who fled the Spanish Inquisition, and wound up in France. Eventually, for unknown reasons, he went back to Spain and was imprisoned, and died awaiting trial. One particularly moving epic is the Ballad in honor of the divine martyr, Judah the Believer, martyred at Valladolid at the hands of the Inquisition. In three parts, it covers the martyr's execution, an argument for following Torah, and a prophecy that will stand your hair on end. One day I will set this piece as a monumental work, when I am a better composer than I am now. This poem will blow you away.

It was another poem, When I consider that glorious past of mine, that was exactly what I needed. It is a long poem and I chose the following stanzas. (These translations are by Oelman; I set the Spanish text.) Some time in the future I will link to a recording. So far only a few individual songs (one per stanza) have been performed, and it will only be performed in its entirety next winter.



"To Thessaly I would go and suffer there

(so as to erase the visions of the beast)

The one who lights the day to consume me.

When I consider that glorious past of mine

Where I am found no more, the remembrance

Of my state, I fear, is bound to die with me.

I mourn my homeland, from her I am absent,

An accident of birth must have been its cause—

The cross of origin the unsuspecting bear

I left behind my sweet and tender dwelling

And left behind my free will with my soul,

For on foreign soil I stand bereft of all.

Such a bird my homeland was, but who would say

That it should be without the nest of my soul

And that it should lose the wings of my love?

Laughing, I went off to a different clime,

Fondly imagining, like a tender child,

That what I was seeing was my own homeland.

In an instant I found myself surrounded

by more Babels than on the plain of Shinar

that giant of unyielding pride constructed.

I speak and they do not understand me; this

I feel so keenly that I am struck dumb,

Sweeping aside, unsure, my understanding."

Text quoted from:
Oelman, Timothy, ed. and trans., Marrano Poets of the Seventeenth Century: an anthology of the Poetry of João Pinto Delgado, Antonio Enríquez Gómez, and Miguel de Barrios. The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization. Rutherford, Madison and Teaneck: Fairleigh University Press; London and Toronto: Associated University Presses, 1982.

My first post

Well, this is my first post. I've showed up a couple times on my sweetie Tzipporah's blog, Midianite Manna. It's time I started posting things of my own. This blog will mostly be about Jewish music, as well as random esoteric Jewish things that I care deeply about.