Daniel Goode

Composer & Performer

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Conceptual, Verbal, and Graphic Scores

Conceptual, Verbal, and Graphic Scores
by Daniel Goode

A verbal score tells you how to make the music in language, rather than in musical notation. There may be some musical symbols in a verbal score, maybe a graphic, but you are being told how to make the music via language, not musical notes in musical staves to be played by specific musical instruments or voices (though the verbal score also can tell you what instruments should be played). The verbal score is the elephant-in-the-room of the Modernist and Experimental music traditions since it wipes clean the premises of musical notation. Moving from idea (expressed in words and maybe diagrams or sketches) to realization, requires imaginative input from the performers on a level quite different from and more inclusive than what performers do with traditional musical notation. The verbal score can be difficult for a trained musician, and a godsend to a talented, but non-musically-literate performer. A verbal score may ask the performers to do anything, including making up their own sounds, or notes according to the instructions given. Call it the Platonic idea of musical composition because the idea precedes the actual notes, that is, the realization in sound.

Nothing more challenges music Conservatory training and tradition than the verbal score: that you can make music without that musical literacy which the Conservatory is in charge of instilling. The tool of the verbal score does an end-run around that pillar of cultural education, musical notation. It is radical, too, because it steals musical technique away from the medieval power-center of the Conservatory. Yoko Ono may have done the earliest ones in the mid-50s. La Monte Young did a series in 1960 (sometimes these are called conceptual scores, or conceptual music. A full account would include the Fluxus artists such as George Brecht, Bob Watts, Dick Higgins, Philip Corner and others who developed Event Scores influenced by John Cage’s teaching).

The verbal score puts an intelligent agent in charge of finding the right performance for the composerÕs idea, but the performer is also the composerÕs partner, on the same level because s/he is in possession of the concept behind the music, expressed succinctly in words. Yet verbal scores can also be challenging because invariably there are questions about exactly what might be meant by the words, or sentences. And the musicians must be willing to give of themselves, to inhabit the ideas, to do, to compose what is needed to make the ideas into music. A spiritual commitment is required, and the building of a performance community, because there is no such thing as simply playing the score.

Maybe just from this short discussion, the reader can sense what a powerful and flexible tool is the verbal score: first, because it addresses performers in their native language, their first language. And second, because it can say things that notes can’t. In thinking about all this, it suddenly occurred to me to ask what if music notation from its beginnings had taken the form of human language, written and spoken, before it took its familiar form of notes and rests? Wouldn’t the verbal score then be at the center of music culture and music teaching instead of at its periphery? Imagine writers and composers together, teaching the use of language to convey sound, idea, emotion, performance. This is a thought experiment we should all consider making.

Conceptual, graphic, and verbal scores challenge the immovable scholasticism of music theory as it has been taught since Medieval times in music theory courses world-wide, the kind of courses which discourage so many brilliant music students from studying music theoretically. Collections which bring this work to the fore start to redress the imbalance.

Note: this has been adapted from the liner notes to “Philip Corner: Extreme Positions” a 2CD set published by New World Records, 2007.

Authentic Orientalism—Tan Dun

Authentic Orientalism—Tan Dun
by Daniel Goode

March 11th, 2007

I saw Tan Dun’s Metropolitan-commissioned opera, The First Emperor, that is, I saw the film of it at my local movie theater (what a great idea at $15 instead of a $90 Met ticket). It was the most expensive opera ever produced by the Met, and not the prettiest, far from the best, yet amazingly: authentic chinoiserie, because the creator and conductor is a true Chinese emigre composer from Mainland China, a fine musician as we can readily see in the film where he rehearses and conducts and coaxes Chinese rhythmic structure from the Met orchestra (that was my favorite part of the film).

It was as if the composer consulted a textbook on how to make an early 19th century opera, both plot and music (updated with a post-Copland tonal jam). The recipe proceeded: add a thin veneer of borrowed qualities from folk and Peking opera with plenty of generalized, contemporary ethnic sound, pleasant borrowings from Harry Partch, gamelan, flower-pot chimes of ancient China and post Cage-America. Placido Domingo painfully and humanly played the Emperor. It must have been fairly thankless: no wonderful tunes, lots of awkward a-rhythmic declamatory singing, he gets to reign over a lonely, now unified empire (represented by synchronized-swimming-style militaristic chorus); plus no off-spring, a dead son-in-law (protégé from the military killed off somehow). Not a good fate for a great culture, past or future. Elizabeth Futrel (great voice, good actress, matchstick Puccini-type) was the unlucky princess, though cured of leg-paralysis (“you don’t like my legs!”) by—exactly—one illicit love-making scene, she still had to die, and did so, thankfully, off-stage.

It’s just plain unfortunate to say that the music isn’t very good. It doesn’t ever give that special lift and momentum that makes opera work. It’s strangely reminiscent of clunky American opera composers like Robert Ward, not up to Menotti’s craft, lots of spectacle produced by specialist masters such as a Chinese male soprano/dancer who was super charismatic. But these virtues just called attention to the emptiness at the center: A little bit of Puccini-esque pentatonic European harmonizing, the show-off, Carl Orff-like “asian” sounds, some choral glissandos from Buddhists monks—you get the idea. Lots of stuff, not really melding into something satisfying.
And, to further embarrass the most tolerant ethnic sympathizer, a more-than-clunky libretto by the composer and a collaborator with choice lines like: “The dead branches are sprouting,” “dry husks of leaves rattled in my heart,” “You promised to go with me step by step to the summit.”

But maybe I’m just a little sour, because what really annoyed me subliminally throughout was the harsh audio sound, bringing the edginess, not the smoothness of these strong, vibrato-tinged voices to the fore. I had use earplugs some of the time. Movie sound systems are usually cranked up just in general. Here, one really missed the fuller, gentler, acoustic mix of the opera hall. Nobody really sounded good, even in an Italianate, harmonically friendly trio. One melodic tic became less rather than more affecting as it came back often through-out at phrase endings, a fa-mi-do, motive that reminded me constantly of some American theater composer, maybe Leonard Bernstein of Candide. But to start speculating at this level of discontent is madness.

The audience at my local New York theater was quite a bit older than most movie audiences there, sprinkled with true flamboyant artist types greeting and networking. I think these movie broadcasts are a really great innovation for the Met, even with the correctable deficit mentioned. Certainly the low price sweetens the possibility of walking out or taking breaks during slow times. The extensive intermission feature of rehearsal clips and interviews was the best part: lively, musical and all about process and art. If not fulfilled, I didn’t feel cheated. There was a lot to take in, a lot to think about in the three- hour event.