Musical forms - Canon

Five attractive college kids go out on a camping trip out in the woods, way out in the middle of nowhere.  They stay in a cabin out by the lake.  The locals warn them of strange things that have been lurking around the cabin, but the kids laugh at them and go out to the cabin anyway.

You know that one by one, each of the five kids will meet a gruesome end, and at the end of the movie the trap will be reset for the next group of college kids unlucky enough to come by.

Or imagine perhaps this plot:

A young man, having just gotten out of a bad situation, is on the train heading off to start a new life.  On the train, he meets a young woman.  They talk, they laugh, they have a good time.  She gives him her phone number before getting off the train.  But when he gets to his destination, and checks his pocket, he finds that the slip of paper is gone.

You know that the rest of the movie will consist of him tracking down the girl, overcoming obstacles in his way, and at the end of the movie the two of them will be together again and they will live happily ever after.

Movies have forms.  There's the horror flick, the boy-meets-girl flick, action flicks, western flicks… each type of movie has its own schtick.  If we know what kind of movie we're about to see, we already  have a pretty good idea of how the plot will unfold.  We know what to expect, and when we see something happen on the screen, we know how it's going to fit in with the rest of the movie as a whole.

Music is the same way.   The songs you listen to on the radio, the majority of them are put together the same way.  They have a common structure - a common form.  

Form is a word you're going to hear a lot in this essay, so let's define what exactly form is.

Form refers to how many different sections there are within a larger piece of music, how they are arranged, and how they relate to each other.  

If I have two sections of music within a piece or song, for example, the second section might be a repetition of the first.  It may be an imitation or variation of the first.  It may be a development of the first - taking the musical ideas expressed in the first section and going further.  Or it may be a contrasting section, something that will be developed on its own later.  Or perhaps not.

As a point of illustration, here's one of my favorite indie rock songs.  

Animal Collective - My Girls

Maybe you liked this song, maybe you didn't.  Either way, that's OK.  Did this song surprise you in any way?  Was there anything strange about how this song was put together?

Well, no, not really.  It's a rock song, and it sounds like a rock song.  Broken up into sections, it sounds like this:

1.  Intro

2.  Verse  (There isn't much I feel I need…)

3.  Chorus  (I don't mean to seem like care about material things…)

4.  Repeat of verse

5.  Chorus (x2)

6.  Outro - song fades to nothingness

There's an intro, an outro, verse, and chorus.  The verse and chorus are two different sections that contrast with each other to give variety to the piece.  The into and outro are related to the accompaniment in both the verse and chorus.

It's a very typical rock song formula, in fact so typical that it has a technical name: thirty-two bar form.  (With a name like thirty-two bar form, it sounds like it ought to have something to do with drinking establishments, but sadly it doesn't.)  A lot of rock songs have an instrumental bridge in between the first chorus and the repeat of the verse - a chance for the guitarist to show off without the singer getting in the way - but this one doesn't.  You probably didn't pay too much attention to the structure of the song as you listened to it.  The way the song rolled out, you pretty much had an instinctive grasp of what was going to come next.

There isn't much I feel I need

But a solid soul, and the love I bleed

But with a little girl, and by my spouse

I only want a proper house

I don't care for fancy things

Or to take part in a pressured race

But to provide for one who asks

I will with heart on my father's grave

I don't mean to seem like I care about material things like social status

I just want four walls and adobe slabs for my girls

Whatever you thought of the song, it sure is a nice sentiment, isn't it?

Let's try something a bit different.  Same group, different song. 

Animal Collective - College

What did you think?  Did it follow the same form as My Girls?

Well no, it didn't.  There was no intro and no verse at the beginning of the song.  The vocals were on a neutral syllable, in three part harmony, often going into some fairly close harmony.  The style is more reminiscent of a college glee ensemble, or perhaps a barbershop quartet.  There's just one line: "You don't have to go to college."  And the song is over.

If you're left scratching your head, it's because the song didn't conform to any of the standard formulas that a song is supposed to sound like.  It didn't sound *like* anything.  I kinda think that was Animal Collective's whole point.  The focus is on the one line, not on anything else.

The scope of what counts as classical music is quite a bit broader than what counts as rock music.  Rock music has been around for about 60 years; the canon of classical music that is commonly performed today goes back about 400 years.  Moreover, the types of ensembles you'll encounter in classical music are a lot more varied in classical music than in rock or pop.  Rock music requires a guitarist, a drummer, a bass, and vocals.  A typical band is three to five people.  In classical music, on the other hand, you can have an ensemble consisting of a full orchestra plus chorus, a single instrumental soloist, or nearly anything in between.  And so, over the span of 400 years, a wide variety of music forms evolved to accommodate the type of piece being played, the number of instruments involved, the accumulated history of all the music that had been done up to that point, and the will and creativity of the individual composer, as artist and innovator.

The names of some of these forms may be familiar to you.  Binary form.  Ternary form.  Canon.  Fugue.  French overture.  Ritornello form.  Menuet and trio form.  Theme and variations.  Rondo form.  Sonata form.  If you don't recognize some of these terms, that's good.  Within a few months, you'll be familiar with all of them!

Let's start out with the simplest of all musical forms: canon.  Canons are also called rounds, as in "Row, Row, Row Your Boat".  A canon consists of one theme that is repeated over and over again.  Each voice comes in at a different time, resulting in harmony as different sections of the theme overlap with each other.  Often the theme of a canon is sung in unison (all together) at the beginning of the piece so that the theme is easier to pick out as individual voices come in.

Time for some music.  Here's a great example of a canon, written by Renaissance composer Orlando di Lasso.  The text of the piece is "musica est Dei donum optimi", or in English, "Music is the greatest gift of God."  

Orlando di Lasso - Musica Dei donum

This is a canon in four, or for four voices.  It's for four voices because four voices are singing by the time the first voice makes its first repetition.

Mozart was also a fan of writing canons.  Although Lasso's Musica Dei donum is often performed by high school and college choirs, Mozart's canons are… not.

Mozart - Difficile Lectu (canon a 4)

Difficile lectu was written by Mozart in either 1786 or 1787.  This was not a piece ever meant for public performance; this was a piece written by Mozart strictly for his friends.  One friend of his, a Bavarian singer by the name of Johann Nepomuk Peyerl, had an accent that was rather strong by Viennese standards.  And so Mozart wrote a canon to poke fun at him.

The text of the canon is the following Latin-esque gibberish:

Difficile lectu midi mars et jonicu difficile.

However, the text as it would have been pronounced by Peyerl would have been different:

Difficile leck du mich im Arsch…   (leck du mich im Arsch = "kiss my ass")

In addition, the word jonicu, when repeated, flips itself over to become cujoni, which is Italian for "testicles".  Balls balls balls balls balls balls...

Here's another dirty little canon by our friend Wolfgang, this one for six voices.  This one is one of my favorites because of all the percussive consonants in the middle parts once all the voices come in.  It adds a certain rhythm to the piece.

Mozart - Leck Mich im Arsch (canon a 6)

Finally, an example of what fun things you can do with a canon besides repeat the same line over and over again until all the voices get tired or bored.  And demonstration that canons aren't just something for the history books.  Check out this canon by Estonian composer Arvo Pärt, for four trumpets, four trombones, and percussion.

Arvo Pärt - Arbos (1986)

You can probably tell that the trumpets are playing the same dotted rhythm over and over again: dum da-dum da-dum da-dum...  But what are the other parts doing?  Well, they're playing the same part as the trumpets... only slower.  The lower trumpet part is playing the part at half the speed, and the trombones are playing at one quarter the speed.  This kind of canon is called a mensuration canon.

You may have noticed that I've left one musical piece off the list.  What about the really famous canon, the one Pachelbel wrote?  Although that piece contains elements of canon in it, it's actually an example of a different kind of musical form, one popular during the Baroque era, called passacaglia.  We'll be getting into that next time!

Wolfgang Mozart - The Early Years

The young man we all know as Mozart - the son, not Leopold the father - was born on January 27, 1756 in Salzburg.  He was the youngest of seven children, five of whom died in infancy.  He had one sister, nicknamed Nannerl, who was five years his senior.

Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart.

Say what???  Johannes who?  And where's the Amadeus part?  Who is this guy?

Well, Mozart was a man fond of word play, especially so with his own name.  "Johannes Chrysostomus" is the name of the saint associated with the date of his birth, January 27.  Mozart never used this name in his lifetime.  "Wolfgangus" is his name all right, but it's the Latin version.  In Austria, he went by "Wolfgang", but in Italy, it was "Wolfgango".

And Theophilus?  That's a Greek name.  "Theo", meaning "God", and "philus", meaning "love of".  In German, "Theophilus" becomes "Gottlieb", which Mozart sometimes used; Latinized, "Theophilus" becomes "Amadeus".  And yet, "Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart" was a name Mozart himself rarely used in his lifetime.  In place of Amadeus, he preferred Amadé or Amadè.  He would even play with his last name: he could be Mozart, die Mozartini, or even Trazom (Mozart spelled backwards).  About the only time he actually used his full middle name was to refer to himself in jest:

Wolfgangus.  Amadeus.  Mozartus.

At any rate - back to the child prodigy.

Much of what we know about Mozart's early life, we know from interviews taken with his older sister, Nannerl, late in her life.  In the third person, she relates how it came about that Leopold Mozart discovered that his son Wolfgang was a prodigy:

The son [Wolfgang] was at the time three years old when the father began instructing the seven-year-old daughter [Nannerl] on the clavier.  The boy immediately showed his extraordinary, God-given taken.  He often spent long periods at the clavier, picking out thirds, and his pleasure showed that they sounded good to him.

When he was four years old, his father, as if for a game, taught him some minuets and other pieces at the clavier.  It went so well and was so effortless that he had easily learnt a piece in one hour and a minuet in half an hour so that he could play them without mistakes and with the utmost delicacy.  He made such progress that when he was five years old he was composing little pieces, which he would play to his father who would write them down.

[….] As soon as he occupied himself with music he had no interest in other occupations, they were dead to him, and even childish nonsense and games with toys had to have a musical accompaniment if they were to hold his attention; when we, he, and I, were carrying his playthings and toys from one room to another, the one of us who was empty-handed had to sing a march, or play on the fiddle, as we did so.

In 1762, when Mozart was six, Leopold Mozart took the family to Vienna on what would be their first musical tour.  The purpose of the tour was, of course, to present his children in public, to gain the favor of the imperial family at the Viennese court, make a little money, and hopefully win enough favor with the court to earn his children future patronage.  And if, of course, opportunities should open up for Leopold Mozart himself - well, so much the better.  The Mozarts gave several performances in Vienna, including a private audience with Archduke Joseph (soon to be Emperor Joseph II) and the Empress Maria Theresa.

But much bigger things would be in store.  The Mozarts had received such a favorable reception in Vienna that Leopold decided it was time for the Mozart children to receive a much wider audience.  And so, in 1763, the Mozart family began the Grand Tour - a three year tour that would take them to Munich, Mannheim, Frankfurt, Cologne, Brussels, Amsterdam, London, and Paris… among other places.

Symphony #1 in E-flat, K 16 (Movement I: Molto allegro)

Mozart wrote his first symphony in London in 1764, at the age of eight, during the Mozart family's grand tour of Europe.  At the time, the family was staying at a house in Chelsea, just outside of London, and Leopold Mozart was very ill with a throat infection.  Forbidden to play the harpsichord, for fear of disturbing his father, Wolfgang relieved his boredom by writing his first symphony.

For those of you who are already familiar with Mozart's works, the theme from the first movement of his first symphony may sound very familiar.  It's almost the same theme as his Piano Concerto #22 in E-flat, K 482, a piece that he would write 21 years later.

What's remarkable about this early piece is that it already bears all the hallmarks of a more mature Mozart: knowledge of form, cleanness of execution, and expressive restraint.  But what's even more remarkable: the kid was only EIGHT YEARS OLD when he did this.

What were *you* busy doing when *you* were eight?

The Mozart family returned to Salzburg in November 1766.  From a financial standpoint, the tour was less than successful.  Although the value of even just the gifts and trinkets the Mozarts had received from noble patrons was considerable, considerable too was the cost of putting on the tour.  Leopold wrote that the savings from the tour were negligible: "There was nothing to be saved, because we have to travel in noble or courtly style for the preservation of our health and the reputation of my court."  However, the impact of the tour on Wolfgang Mozart's musical development was considerable.  Their stay in London was of particular importance, as it was there that he met Carl Friedrich Abel and Johann Christian Bach (the son of Johann Sebastian Bach), from whom he learned form and technique for writing symphonies.  Although the symphonies Mozart wrote at this early stage in his career were not as sophisticated as his later symphonies, they were easily the equal of any of the major composers of symphonies in Europe at the time.

After returning to Salzburg in 1766, the Mozarts spent a year and a half in Vienna, and then, in December 1769, Leopold and Wolfgang left for Italy.  Nannerl and Mozart's mother remained behind in Salzburg for this trip.  Nannerl had just turned 18, and was therefore too old to be showing off in public as a child prodigy.  Wolfgang, on the other hand, was 13.  The reason for continuing Wolfgang's education in Italy was obvious - Italy was the center of the Catholic Church, a source of major innovations in music over the prior two centuries, home to numerous duchies, papal states, and republics, but above all, *the* place one wanted to be if one was in the opera writing business.  Leopold's goal in taking Wolfgang to Italy was to learn to write church music, gain influential friends and acquaintances that could hook him up with a high-ranking patron, and to expose Mozart to the culture of opera.

Overture from Mitridate, rè di Ponto (K. 87)

Mitridate was the first of three operas the young Mozart would write in Milan.  Mitridate was written during his first tour through the city in the fall of 1770, when Mozart was just 14 years old.  The overture to the opera is in three parts.  The first section, written in an abbreviated kind of sonata form, is lively and upbeat.  Two themes are introduced, the first in D major, the contrasting theme in A major.  As is typical in sonata form, the second of the two themes is restated in the key of the first before the section draws to a close.  The second section is a slow, quiet dance that provides a rest from the rigors of the first section.  Finally in the third section, we have a quick, agile little romp in triple meter that leads us to the close of the overture, re-energized and ready to hear what the opera has in store for us.

Mozart wrote Mitridate in just a few months, no small feat for anyone, let alone a boy of 14 years writing his first full opera.  And the idea of an Austrian coming down to write an opera - in Italian - did not sit well with many in Milan.  However, the opera was an unexpectedly great success.  In a letter to his sister Nannerl back in Salzburg, Mozart wrote:

Dearest sister!

I haven't written anything in a long time because I was busy with my opera.  As I have more time now I want to be more attentive to my duties.  The opera, thank the Lord, is a success as the theater is full every nigh, which astounds everyone and many are saying that as long as they have lived in Milano they have never seen a first opera so full."

Finally, a little ear candy.  Something you may have heard before...

Alleluja, from Exultate juibilate (1773), KV 165

(Diana Damrau)

The Exultate was written specifically for the castrato Venanzio Rauzzini, who had played the part of Cecilio in Mozart's opera Lucia Silla earlier that year.  This is Mozart at his most exuberant - we can hear the success of his three Italian operas in this piece, and the hope of even better things to come.  Even though this is a sacred work, the operatic influence is clear: listen to the wordplay around the emphasis in the word "Alleluja" (Alleluja, Alleluja…), the ornamentation in the soprano line, and, of course, the most unhumble and diva-esque high C at the very end!

In one sense, the three trips to Italy had been a great success.  Mozart had written three well-received operas, a number of string quartets and shorter pieces, and had established a name for himself in Italy.  His reputation, however, did not convert itself into a promise of patronage from a wealthy benefactor for young Wolfgang, nor did it result in a more lucrative permanent appointment for Leopold, our deputy capellmeister from Salzburg.  And so, in 1773, the Mozarts returned to Salzburg.  Wolfgang found employment with the Prince-Archbishop Hieronymus Colorado as a court musician - a position that neither Mozart nor the Archbishop would end up being particularly happy with.  Mozart would have to make several other journeys before finding a permanent home and fame in Vienna.