I’d never seen people walk out in the middle of an early music concert before…
It was not by any means having to do with the quality of the performance, which was exemplary. It was instead a testament to the power of music written centuries ago.
This post might be considered a followup to the previous post from couple of weeks ago in which I wrote about a listening experience of music from before the time of Bach, and how it left me intrigued if not confused. At the same, time I felt an affinity towards that music as an improvisor that took time to identify and articulate. This past week I heard one of the most striking examples of this phenomenon yet, upping the ante in this process of experiencing musical connections across time. Connections that are very much alive in this crazy period we are living through now. Somehow it gives me hope.
The venue was the same, the Gotham Early Music Scene’s weekly midtown concerts series here in NYC. I had written about the blend of voices in the Theotokos ensemble given that I was perfectly situated near the front of the audience. In this case the ALBA Consort was presented and for whatever reason I decided to listen from a different sonic vantage point, from the side and rather far from the musicians. Given the amount of reverberation in the church some of the detail was obscured but with a little extra concentration I was still able to hear quite clearly. The first composition, by Guillaume de Machaut, was slow and spare beginning with psaltery and oud (a middle eastern string instrument) joined by a vocal duo (female and male) creating a spacious almost other-worldly sound out of minimal elements.
As the second piece began I found myself straining a bit to lean in and discern exactly what was going on. The vocalists were singing in an unusually low register and the reverberation was making it challenging to zero in on exactly what pitches they were aiming for. The oud seemed to be playing a completely independent part lending a disjunct quality to the proceedings even as the percussionist maintained a steady pulse. On the one hand I loved it and at the same time I couldn’t help wonder if they might have gotten lost and were hanging on for dear life. At this point the couple sitting behind me starting murmuring, I wasn’t sure what about but I could make out the words “is this kind of weird?” Well, I guess it was which made me all the more interested. About a dozen folks felt differently though and after the piece ended they and the couple behind me filed out. This I something I’d only ever experienced at a contemporary music concert. Or perhaps that time at a Cecil Taylor concert years ago when a full third of the audience left not even midway through a free outdoor performance of his band (featuring the great saxophonist Jimmy Lyons) in Chicago. Anyway, the rest of the concert was varied and involved music from Spain and Armenia as well as from Balkan, Greek and Moroccan Sephardic traditions leaving me feeling much better than when I'd walked in.
Upon returning home I began researching that second piece of music and quickly found that its idiosyncratic sound and structure have been of note for quite some time. The title is “Fumeux fume” written by someone under the name Solage from the fourteenth century and is included in the Chantilly Codex, an important manuscript of medieval music. It is a three-voice rondeaux in the tradition of the French “art subtilior” (more subtle art), a kind of avant garde of it’s time characterized by a high degree of complexity often utilizing what look like the kinds of graphic scores one might encounter in the twentieth century avant garde. Perhaps because it appealed to a smaller group of aficionados or that it was more difficult to perform or that it was more challenging for audiences the style fell out of favor. And yet seven hundred years later some folks are still moved towards the exits. That’s really awesome when you think about it.
The concert was recorded and while I tend to resist disseminating on-line listening I want to at least provide something by which you may also become intrigued enough to venture out into the unexpected, in person. Here is the link to the ALBA Consort’s performance, cued up to “Fumeux fume”. Once you’ve heard it I invite you to compare it with a recording in which all three parts are sung as opposed to assigning one of them to the oud (which I suspect may have been truer to the original intent) by the ensemble Alla Francesca. Additionally here is yet another vocal version, this one a bit faster, by the TENET Vocal Artists. Upon multiple listenings I’ve acclimated to it and am deeply moved by this music.
Also of interest are the words to this composition. I have no idea the meaning, perhaps it is metaphorical. I've also encountered an alternate translation that uses smoke to describe brooding and vexatious states of mind.
Fumeux fume par fumée, The smoker smokes through smoke,
Fumeuse speculacion. A smoky speculation.
Qu’antre fummet sa pensée, While others smoke in thought,
Fumeux fume par fumée. The smoker smokes through smoke,
Quar fumer molt li agree’ Because smoke pleases him greatly
Tant qu’il ait son entencion’. As he meditates.
Fumeux fume par fumée, The smoker smokes through smoke,
Fumeuse speculacion. A smoky speculation.
My otherwise superficial rendering of the performance and music should in no way be seen as critical. Confusion is not a bad thing and it often motivates an investigation paying off with more grist for the mill for the process of improvisation. As always I extend my great thanks to the folks behind this ongoing series. Attending these concerts each week has become my therapy.
Also on my mind…
...has been the recent passing of pedal steel guitarist Susan Alcorn. A wonderful artist beloved by the community, I was fortunate to have worked with her a number of times and recorded with her and bassist Michael Formanek on a recording titled “Mirage”.
I can’t help but appreciate the vocal quality of her sound and I might assert that it does not require much in the way of imagination to hear a connection to the “distant” sounds of Solage. Perhaps a good example might be Susan’s performance of “O. Sacrum Convivum”, a choral piece by composer Olivier Messiaen whose music, while perennially modern, evokes the spaciousness and mystery of early music.
Easter Liturgy in 1673 - Old Slavonic Polyphony | Chronos Ensemble
It strikes me as yet another approach in this rich tradition and quite a bracing one at that. Here is an except from the description provided by the artists:
The Old-Russian liturgical polyphony, as well as the folk music, did not follow the Western system of consonance and dissonance that gave birth to European harmony and tonality. The Russian polyphony was based on the diatonic modal system of the Znamenny chant. This system gave no preference to «consonances» over «dissonances», considering both equally pure and natural. The thirds are not characteristic of this chant, the fourths and seconds occurring much more naturally in the tetrachord-based system.This may partially explain why this typically early-Russian type of polyphony is so valued in the aesthetic system of contemporary classical music.
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