About the Composer

NPR has a great interview with conductor Marin Alsop and accompanying article about Bartók’s music, where she touches on folk influences and discusses The Miraculous Mandarin, Romanian Dances, Bluebeard’s Castle and more.

Béla Bartók had a breakthrough moment in his early 20s, when he heard a peasant woman singing folk songs. From that point on, he collected, recorded (on an Edison phonograph) and notated hundreds of songs from small villages in rural Hungary and Romania. His work preserving the music of those cultures had a profound influence on his own compositions.

One of the first Hungarian folksongs I learned happens to be one of the first ones that Bartók recorded in 1906. Elindultam szép hazámból, or “I set out from my homeland” (roughly) went on to be one of the most well-known folksongs in Hungary, and was included among Bartók’s 1906 collection of ten art song settings of folksongs called Hungarian Folksongs for Solo Voice and Piano. Kodály also published a set of ten of his own folksong settings the same year. There’s a lovely Hungaroton recording of both of these sets, plus one by László Lajtha.

The Bartók Album, by the folk ensemble Muzsikás, is a must-have for any Bartók fan. It’s a collection of original source material used by Bartók for various pieces, including a real treat. Here’s the actual phonograph recording made by Bartók in 1906 of the folksong mentioned above, Elindultam szép hazámból, sung by András Borek of Békésgyula.

And finally, an anecdote from the the liner notes of The Bartók Album that goes a long way to help us understand Bartók’s connection to Hungarian folk music, and the effect that he had on his country. This is from Klára Huszár, who was present at Bartók’s final concert in Hungary before leaving for exile in the U.S.

When Bartók set off for the exit during the applause, someone started singing this melody “I set off from my homeland”. Within a second, the whole audience had taken up the song, and sang it with strength and passion. Bartók stopped for a moment, and took a few steps backwards. Then he left quietly, leaving the stage of the Music Academy forever.

Don’t miss this item on NPR.org and a whole web of other related material there. Many thanks to Lisa Hirsch for calling this to my attention.

Just found this while trying to find out more about the bass harmonica. Meet the Sväng New Harmonica Quartet of Finland, here offering a bit of that terrific Bulgarian rhythm I blogged about previously. I have trouble turning this off once it gets going. The second half of the video is more of a Ragtime number; also terrific.

As for the bass harmonica, I’d previously only heard it as part of the odd accompaniment in part of the Simon and Garfunkel song “The Boxer” (lai lai lai - thwack - lai lai lai lai lai… etc.). I finally got around to trying to figure out what on earth that instrument is!

Roger Bourland recently linked to a video of the Bulgarian State Women’s Chorus, which reminded me of my latent obsession with Bulgarian folk music. Check it out, (and read the comments for your daily dose of surrealism).

Years ago, during a very short stint as the vocal director of a folk ensemble, I had the pleasure of preparing that first song in the video, which is called “Ergen Deda”. The rhythm of the piece is a fast 7/8 Šopska dance (from the Šop region of Bulgaria; Šopska is also a tasty salad).

These 7/8 dances are so fast that the notion of “7/8″ fails to really capture it. It’s really just a matter of “short-short-long”. In Bulgarian (and Greek and other Balkan) music all kinds of interesting combinations of “short” and “long” are used, and we’re forced to notate them with awkward 11’s and 13’s.

See if you can figure this one out:

You can see why I love this stuff, right? If you listen to the end, it gets faster and becomes increasingly difficult to turn off.

Here’s another one:

There’s even better stuff out there, but I don’t own any. I was able to find these online thanks to this site.

To really appreciate this music, you need to see it danced. Found this for you. If you don’t watch the whole thing, at least let it load and skip to the end. There’s always a wild finish in these presentations.

P.S. - Poking around on YouTube for Bulgarian stuff, I found this travel pitch for Bulgaria, which despite the lady’s weird Bulgaro-Surrey accent has me contemplating summer vacation 2008.

P.P.S. - I managed to sneak a Bulgarian(ish) 7/8 into the coda of Letter To Hungary (try excerpt #2), but it’s all right; sometimes Hungarian music gets into this rhythmic territory.

It was mentioned in my previous post that I’ve been spending a lot of time with folk music lately. Regarding that, I recently discovered something new, because someone sent me this. (There’s audio.) Don’t spend more than 20 seconds with it, because it’s just an endless loop.

This little cartoon is one of those goofy things that quickly propogate all over the world because people have too much free time. But fortunately, for me, it led to my discovery of the wonderful Finnish folk ensemble Loituma. My curiosity about the music on that silly animation quickly led me on a path through Google, Wikipedia and iTunes, resulting in a spontaneous purchase of their 1995 album Things of Beauty.

To introduce Loituma a little bit, here’s a video of a complete live performance of the song “Ievan Polkka”, which was excerpted for that cartoon. Of course, this song is a lot of fun, and the vocal arrangement and performance are masterful, but I discovered that most of Loituma’s music is much more nuanced and subtle. Many of the pieces on this recording are based on the same kind of repetition and modality that draw me to Steve Reich and Arvo P�rt, although I suspect it’s approached from a different angle.

Folk Influences
Loituma are a Sibelius Academy-trained group of four vocalists (three female and one male), accompanying themselves with kanteles (traditional Finnish zither/harp-like instrument) and occasionally violin and other instruments. While their music draws on a variety of influences, I am particularly attracted to the elements that seem to be of the Finnish folk tradition(s). There’s quite a bit of pentatony and a tendency toward rather static harmony based on pedals. However, I know nothing of Finnish musical traditions, so I approached Loituma’s Hanni Autere, who was kind enough to confirm my suspicions and to further elucidate the subject.

The [folkloric] charasteristics we have come, for example, from “kantele music tradition”. The oldest kantele music contains a lot of pentatony, and it’s often meditative with, as you noticed, a lot of rarely changing pedals and simple harmonies. As for the newer tradition in Finnish music, the scales and harmonies widen as the variety of instruments grows.

Hanni also makes an interesting point about how the musical tradition is tied to the instrumental possibilities of the kantele. I supposed this is true in a number of musical traditions where, say, you might find a lot of pedal drones in vocal music that can be tied to traditions of bagpipe or hurdy-gurdy.

There are many kind of kanteles, and nowadays they basically vary from 5 hair-stringed to 40-stringed electric ones. The style of music changes as the number of strings grows. The biggest kanteles have a pitch changing system that’s related to the concert harp system. In that sense, kantele is more like a harp but otherwise I think it’s closer to zither.

Some Highlights
Among my favorite pieces on Things of Beauty, one common element is fact that the harmonies are built upon pedals that rarely change, if ever. When they do change, it’s pure magic. My favorite example is the second track, “Kultaansa Ik�v�iv� (There Is My Lover)”. This is not a traditional folk song, but an original song on a traditional text, composed by Loituma member Timo V��n�nen.

It begins with a very simple, pentatonic ostinato played by a single kantele. During the course of the song, additional kanteles are added, playing complementary ostinati, resulting in lovely cascading sonorities. Until about halfway through, the tonality is rigorously tied to an A pedal. Here’s a little bit of the beginning of the piece (mp3 - 0:44).

By about halfway through, the harmony has become quite rich, with the adding of ostinati and the intruduction of slowly changing sustained, non-vibrato violin notes. But then, something wonderful happens: a low D is introduced, changing the pedal and thus the whole character. A minute change in the texture, and we’re in a new, deeper place. Here’s what that sounds like (mp3 - 0:50). You’ll hear the pedal change to D, and then back to A in the lower octave.

An even better example is the all-kantele piece “Valamon Kirkonkellot”, probably the most Reich-like case. Here are some excerpts: the beginning (mp3 - 0:42), after about a minute (mp3 - 0:22), and here’s the big pedal change (mp3 - 0:46). Just as with many Reich pieces, you sort of know it’s coming, but you don’t know when it will be.

Getting back to pentatony, “Viimesen kerran (The Very Last Time)” is a traditional song presented by Loituma as a lovely a cappella arrangement. It’s a very simple pentatonic tune that I would swear up and down is a Hungarian folktune if it were played for me without text and out of context. This is interesting, given the distant relationship between the Hungarian and Finnish peoples.

This arrangement is exquisite in its simplicity. Fortunately, at the beginning we get to hear the tune (0:48) in it’s purest form. Gradually, wordless voices enter as accompaniment, bringing about some wonderful harmonies as the two upper voices move around over a low A pedal. The harmonies build and really blossom (0:35) during the course of the song.

“Kun mun kultani tulisi (Missing Him)” is another traditional folksong, arranged here for voices and kanteles. Although it’s not pentatonic, it also uses a pedal and wordless vocal accompaniment. Again, the harmonies that emerge (1:14) over the pedal are wonderful.

Things of Beauty is published in the U.S. by Northside - Nordic Roots Music.

P.S. — Isn’t the Finnish language beautiful to listen to?

While I wait for some information from an expert on a “real” post in the works. I’ll share some highlights from the period during my little break from blogging.

• For some reason, I’ve been seeking out and enjoying all kinds of folk music, including what’s known as “folk rock”. I guess I’m craving purity. Something I never thought I’d say in a million years: I like Bob Dylan.
• I have been on a roller coaster ride surrounding the possibility of my working on a very exciting project. Details will appear in a future post if the outcome is positive.
• My ability to read Yiddish has improved, but it will now all go out the window, because suddenly I want to learn Finnish. (This is a 20-year-old pattern with me.)
• Don’t even get me started on foreign names for various rodents
• I have finished a small portion of a musical theater piece, which is the only way I can get permission to use this particular source material. As I lose hair, I gain humility.
• My recent piece Letter to Hungary has been programmed by the Mission Chamber Orchestra in San Jose for next January (details coming).
• Within a matter of a few days, all of the following items broke
  • Sunglasses
  • Shoes
  • Internet connection
  • VOIP phone service
  • Drip coffee maker. (I’m now one of those annoying, self-righteous presspot people.)
• I “failed to appear” for jury duty. (No contest; I just plain forgot.) And now I must go brave San Francisco’s miserable public transportation system and the even more miserable “Hall of Justice”, and make it right.

Last night I encountered for the first time the music of Silvestre Revueltas. I liked what I heard, and will be seeking out more of his work. (How have I come this far without knowing his music? As I’ve mentioned previously, I live under a rock.)

I say “Mexico’s Bart�k” because, like Bart�k, he infused his music with folkloric musical elements from his country, creating an original “Mexican” style of music. The San Francisco Chamber Orchestra treated us to two short works: a chamber version of the Orchestral work Sensamay�, and the “Duelo” movement from Homonaje a Federico Garcia Lorca.

In both works, the Stravinsky influence is more apparent to me than the folkloric influence. (I’m not that familiar with Mexican folk music.) Sensamay� is a wonderful series of polyrhythmic ostinatos underpinning layered melodic fragments. To my ear, there’s also a strong influence of Edgard Var�se in his choices of instrumental sonorities. Something about the blends of muted brass and woodwinds.

Here is some more information on Revueltas with links to some audio excerpts, including one of Sensamay�.

Also on this program was a very enjoyable piece, Altar de Ne�n by contemporary Mexican composer Gabriela Ortiz Torres. This was one of those edge-of-your-seat pieces, also largely based on ostinatos and exciting rhythms, culminating a hair-raising percussion cadenza, making the most out of the four percussionists on the stage.

This weekend, while going through some poorly tagged items in my music library, I came across a recording I’d dug up on the internet years ago of a trio of men singing a traditional Georgian folk song. This song, called Mival Guriashi, is something I first encountered in 1998 when I had a brief stint as vocal director for a folk ensemble. At that time, I had the surreal opportunity to prepare this fascinating music based on some unknown person’s (mostly accurate) transcription, and sing one of the parts.

This particular song is what’s known as a “table song”, characterized by three vocal lines, mostly homophonic. In this tradition, the melodic direction of the independent vocal lines has no concern for their resulting harmonies, flying in the face of everything we learned from our counterpoint books. So, what we have is impeccable voice leading with a harmonic mixed bag: sometimes they’re swooningly gorgeous, and sometimes they clash like crazy. You never know what you’re going to get from beat to beat.

Go on, give a listen ….

Meanwhile, in reading up on Georgian music, I came across the web site of Village Harmony , where more examples of this amazing music can be sampled.

Here’s an example called Khasanbegura: a feast of surprises for your Western-trained ears. Also, poke around on the Village Harmony site for more examples of wonderful stuff.

Georgian Voices, by the Rustavi Choir, is perhaps one of the best known (and perhaps best) recordings of Georgian choral music. You can hear a lot more excerpts on the Amazon.com page for this recording (including another version of Mival Guriashi).

Letter to Hungary draws inspiration from Hungarian folk music, which I’ve studied and loved this music since my time living in Budapest in the early 1990’s.

Using a folksong anthology that I’ve had since those days, I found a song that’s appropriate, both in what the text conveys and in that it bears some of the lovely intervals and modal shifts typically found in these folksongs. (more…)