The Mysterious Demise of One Brody-Marie - Notes

The Mysterious Demise of One Brody-Marie: A Bellow-Drama in Seven Acts, for mezzo soprano, baritone, clarinet(s), percussion and pianoforte, has had many different incarnations, both for the concert hall and stage (though never a full, professional, theatrical production). The following by Andrew Robbie has acted as a programme note, but is as much an analysis of the work's psychological and moral intent.

'The mysteries of 'Brodie' are at every level concerned with demise. Most obviously, the characters are all constructed through their little deaths - petty realisations and transfigurations that are merely epi-epiphanal, reduced in the end to plot cues garbed in ridiculous aggrandisements. All the more painful through their familiarity; and there is no salvation, only exposure and an excussion of mediocrity through amorality.

Structurally, each scena progresses through one or a number of contracting cycles, accruing energy only to collapse in exhausted and protracted tumescense. But there is a mustness to the excess, a teleology based on the familiar rather than catharsis, furnishing a decadence to an already opulent surface. For every genre cue that requires a cadence, a glittering ejaculation mars its realisation.

There are deeper levels of decay. The Western canon is laid open as a corpse; from Purcell to Wagner and Holst's Mars the images are always of war and death, but are mocked, disfigured and made mute. Streams of popular culture from across the century are viscerally present, but serve either to inflate mundane cereals or emotionally legitimise beastiality. But also to leaven; patter-songs and bright metallic stars reek of false innocence, but entice all the same into wantonly guiltless pleasure. And there is a wantonness in the pleasure we are to find in such sensual banquets; to enjoy is to envy; to laugh express complicitness. Were it not for all our questionable allegiance to virtues in truth, honour and the time of the day, we would be forced to reject this piece as incoherent. But we can't - this is an amoral tale, and we are snared by its logic, and forced to enjoy.'

Dies Irae - Notes

Commissioned by Sydney Philharmonia, Dies Irae for chorus and orchestra was premiered in truncated form by the Sydney Philharmonia Chamber Singers and Orchestra on March 22nd, 2008 in the Sydney Opera House. The commentary below, originally a rubric for the singers, ended up being the official programme note.

In one sense, this Dies Irae is a strange, fantastical ritual. The opening melody in the basses is an idiosyncratic paraphrase of the Roman liturgy's eponymous chant and sets the tone for all that is to come. What's more, its stylised, segmented nature provides a formal template for the rest of the piece, a kind of theme for a set of structural variations. The subsequent fragmentation at both a local and broad level is meant to invoke an imaginary procession, stopping and starting its way through a series of mysterious ceremonial rites.

To a large extent, this procession follows the psychological narrative of the Dies Irae text, tracing a path through fear, awe, desperation and hope. But much as the mediaeval Church forced Friar Thomas's poetry into liturgical garb, this work imposes its own, albeit fanciful, ritual order. For instance, hooked onto the end of the opening gambit is an unexpected rendition of the last verse of the poem. These two rhyming couplets are believed to be late additions to the text, conspicuous in their contrast to the other three-line verses and presumably tacked on to make the whole more doctrinally acceptable. In this piece, I have taken their aberrant nature one step further, employing the last verse as a recurring musical and psychological refrain. The idea is to spread both its evocative image of the Day of Judgment and intrinsic hope of redemption throughout the work, rather than confining it to a few isolated moments. This creates an overarching sentiment not indigenous to the poem's original structure but certainly more in keeping with the ritual character I wanted to put across in this setting.

The notion of ceremony infuses Dies Irae in many other ways. For example, the refrain is first presented within the confines of a triptych (three "panels"), a static, stylised device common to mediaeval religious iconography. This atemporal form effectively encapsulates a series of moods or morals without implying a narrative trajectory, and I make good use of it in this work. It manifests itself in a number of different guises- refrain/opening fanfare, refrain (variable focus), refrain/opening fanfare; refrain/opening fanfare, horror, refrain/judgment; contemplation, declamation, beseeching; beseeching, declamation, contemplation; judgment, ecstasy, declamation. Elements of the triptych's personality are also found in the two-part phrase structure of the opening plainsong, which is a mainstay for much of the work. Similarly, both the triptych and chant's ceremonial aspects are reflected in the overall form, which is loosely palindromic (self-mirroring). It's as if the procession files in, makes its way to the focal point of the ritual- in this case, a state of quiet contemplation- and then retreats out of the hallowed space along the same path, reversing the order of ceremony.

But Dies Irae is not just ritual; it is also a psychological exploration of the Day of Judgment, or more accurately, a day of judgment. For despite drawing from religious doctrine both musically and textually, the work is not necessarily religious in nature. Rather, it concerns itself with the persona of the Dies Irae text, whose own internal struggle with impending doom, compelling in its own right, is entirely independent of the liturgical function imposed upon it. This extraction of the individual from the dogmatic might sound quite contemporary, but in fact is not a new idea. John Milton's epic poem, Paradise Lost (1667), is perhaps the most striking literary example of this kind of reprioritisation. In it, the protagonist, Satan, tempts Adam and Eve away from grace and in consequence is himself cast down. But the focus is as much Satan's personal and political conflict with God, and the empathy we are expected to have for this otherwise maligned figure, as it is a retelling of Genesis. My use of an extract from this poem is meant to symbolise the threat to self experienced by both Friar Thomas and Milton's textual personae, and more pertinently for the unfolding of the piece, to reinforce the former's hopes and fears with the latter's.

Of course, the words of the Milton text are entirely lost, as their consistent, fragmentary role in liberamente textures- that is, organised chaos- means they are essentially garbled, albeit artfully. Their spirit, however, is played out time and time again in the drama of the music. For in the end, this Dies Irae celebrates an individual, not communal day of judgment, whose tenets are not imposed externally, but rather deliberately and emphatically chosen in the cause of personal, personalised salvation.

Three Scenes From Suburbia - Press

(See Three Scenes From Suburbia, Mvt. II - Analysis for description.)

http://www.sydneysymphony.com/sysfiles/attachments/PROG14_080506_DiscBerlioz_SSO.pdf

http://www.sydneysymphony.com/sysfiles/attachments/PROG19_080610_DiscSibelius_SSO.pdf

http://www.sydneysymphony.com/sysfiles/attachments/PROG39_081028_DiscElgar_SSO.pdf

http://www.timeoutsydney.com.au/music/classicaljazz/scenes-from-suburbia--preview.aspx

Firestick - Press

Commissioned by Faber Music, through the patronage of Peter Sculthorpe, as part of their Millennium Series, this decade-old composition for modified chamber orchestra was finally premiered on June 15th by Stephen Drury and the Callithumpian Consort in one of the featured concerts of New England Conservatory’s Summer Institute for Contemporary Performance Practice. It seeks to outline a perceptual change towards bushfires in Australia, from anger and despair at their rampaging nature, to the realization that- through “firestick farming”- they are an integral part of Australian life.

http://www.sicpp.org/concerts.html

http://blog.theartsfuse.com/2009/06/18/classical-music-review-it%E2%80%99s-%E2%80%98sick-puppy%E2%80%99-time/

The Origin Cycle - Press

(see Economy of Wax - Analysis for description)

http://www.news.harvard.edu/gazette/2009/04.30/11-darwin.html

http://amusicology.wordpress.com/2009/04/29/harvard-group-for-new-music-firebird/

Three Scenes From Suburbia, Mvt. II - Analysis

Commissioned by Richard Gill with the support of Ars Musica Australis, the orchestral work, Three Scenes From Suburbia, was premiered by Sydney Sinfonia, as part of the Sydney Symphony’s 2008 Discovery Series (Angel Place; II. - 6th May, I. in part - 10th Jun, III. - 28th Oct). The second part was subsequently broadcast on Jan 3rd of this year on ABC Radio National.

OVERVIEW

Australia is one of the most urbanised countries in the world. Consequently, we are all intimately familiar with the concept, if not the reality of suburbia. Whether we live in one, grew up in one or daily consume a televisual representation of one, the suburb is an indisputable part of our cultural lexicon.

Sadly, however, familiarity seems to have bred contempt. Suburbia is often portrayed as mind-numbing and soulless, populated by serial conformists frustrated by their own conformity, and powerless because of it. Three Scenes from Suburbia seeks to challenge that perspective by embracing, through vignettes from the suburban everyday, the wonder and excitement an outsider might have when observing without prejudice our way of life. These sentiments arise from a process of mythologisation, whereby ostensibly mundane scenes are given both literary and metaphysical significance, by way of the Western cultural canon which so underpins our understanding of the world.

Part 1 is prefaced by this quote from the poem, ‘The Daisy’, by William Wordsworth:

…A little Cyclops, with one eye
Staring to threaten and defy…

The music, nevertheless, makes no attempt to represent a daisy, or indeed any other flower. Rather, it draws upon Wordsworth’s depiction of an object generally considered unassuming as pointedly sinister and confrontational. This device is recast here with the lowly traffic light as protagonist, its cycloptic tyranny pitted against the larrikin tendencies of a joy-rider.

The second movement concerns itself with the characteristic ‘greenness’ of our avenues and gardens, by way of these lines from Abraham Cowley’s ‘The Spring’:

…Where ere you walk’d trees were as reverend made,
As when of old Gods dwelt in every shade…

This fragment from Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s ‘Fears in Solitude’ precedes Part III.

…O divine
And beauteous island! thou hast been my sole
And most magnificent temple, in the which
I walk with awe, and sing my stately songs…

Its religious overtones are employed here to celebrate the colours, shapes and sounds of the ubiquitous suburban shopping centre. The movement culminates in a “consumer siren song” (one of the stately songs of the text), which melds together several different markers of prestige, notably Elizabethan court dances and indie pop music.

ANALYSIS OF II.

1. The Ground Bass

This work is modelled on the Baroque forms of passacaglia and chaconne, where a ground bass (a defined bass line that is repeated over and over again) and/or a continuously cycling harmonic progression serves as the foundation for a set of continuous variations. This may seem to be an anachronistic, out-of-date approach to writing music today, however, it should be noted that these forms have a compositional pedigree well beyond their original cultural context: take, for example, the final movement of Brahms’s Fourth Symphony or the passacaglia from Britten’s opera Peter Grimes. Furthermore, passacaglia- and chaconne-like ideas are employed in alot of popular music, though of course in ways which are less likely to be historically informed.

The ground bass/ harmonic progression I have constructed here is somewhat more elaborate than most previous incarnations. A six-chord sequence with some internal repetition is the basic unit; it initially undergoes three symmetrically spaced transpositions (moving down in minor thirds), which though equivalent in relative pitch content, often differ in inversion. The immediate continuation of this transpositional track finds the unit back with its original pitches but in a different inversion. If this process is allowed to play out to a point just before exact replication begins to occur, the following can be observed: a unit is repeated only once at the same pitch in a particular inversion, four times at equivalent transposed pitch in a particular inversion, three times at absolute pitch regardless of inversion, and twelve times irrespective of transposition or inversion. The piece ends with the completion of the cycle and the second iteration of the first chord of the first unit: the ground bass as a whole thus only occurs once, though the properties described above inform its macro-character in such a way as to give the impression of multiple repetitions. All of this information is summarised in Figure 1.

Rhythmically, this cycle is divided into five sections of roughly equivalent duration but of differing harmonic tempo. The first is based on a 5:4 ratio (that is, each chordal articulation lasts either four or five crotchets), the second on a 4:3 ratio, the third on 3:2, the fourth again on 5:4, and the fifth on lengthy, broadening fluctuations (see Figure 1.). The consequence of this is that each section has a different number of repetitions of the basic unit of the ground bass: the first has two, the second three, the third four, the fourth two and the fifth one.

The harmonic and rhythmic character of the ground bass is one of slow, incremental change and the way it is set reflects this. It’s consistently orchestrated for muted strings and vibraphone, and only ornamented by glissandi, which act as appoggiaturas to each chordal change and are occasionally reinforced by the trombones. Furthermore, when there are notes in common between one chord and the next, they are not newly articulated, but rather held on, thus contributing greatly to the glacial effect. It’s worth pointing out that the term ‘bass’ is used here in its formal rather than literal sense, as it is not always the lowest sounding element (see The Musical Narrative).

2. The Variations

The ground bass has in counterpoint to it two other textures, which are essentially two separate sets of variations (referred to here as set 1 and set 2), with their own musical and dramatic characteristics, running in parallel. These variations have harmonic cycles whose pitch content is independent, but whose pacing is nevertheless entirely contingent on the other textural components (see Figure 1. for further elucidation). They are not really variations in the traditional sense- that is, based on a particular theme- but rather constant and varied development of a discreet group of gestures, which forms an ever-fluctuating yet consistently integrated fabric around the thematically static ground bass.

Set 1 consists of two parts whose interaction is part contrapuntal and part heterophonic. The pitches employed at any given point have some commonality with the diatonicism of the corresponding bass harmony (see Figure 1. once again). Only one semitone can be formed harmonically from each sonority in the cycle; it acts as a springboard for each phrase, while the adjacent minor or major third to it serves as a cadential device. The set’s general profile is one of long, drawn-out, lyrical lines with expansive registral leaps and alternations between gradual crescendi and sudden quietness (see Figure 2a. and 2b. for an outline of rhythmic development). Set 1 is articulated exclusively by non-muted strings and two solo horns.

The pitch material of set 2 is remote from both the diatonic implications and the actual notes of the bass, but is relatively closely related to that of set 1. These pitches occur either in close, two-part harmony- rhythmic unisons ranging from a minor second to a major third- or in isolation. Set 2 is thus essentially homophonic, though some heterophonic decoration occurs in the third and fourth sections of the piece. Its rhythmic character is typified by staccato outbursts, whose density periodically waxes and wanes (see Figure 3a. and 3b.). These run very much against the metric grain of the ground bass, and to a lesser extent, of set 1, giving rise on occasion to the feeling of two metres occurring simultaneously. Similarly, fluctuations in dynamic range occur more often and more suddenly here than in the other textures. All of the brass and woodwind- along with the timpani and xylophone- are involved in the realisation of set 2, though the flutes, oboes, clarinets, bassoons and muted trumpets carry much of the thematic weight (they are assigned the tuplet material seen in Figure 3a.)

3. The Musical Narrative

As evident from Figure 1., the overall trajectory of the ground bass is a slow but inevitable climb upwards. This structural attribute, by its very nature, gives the piece a sense of direction, a feeling of purpose. A perhaps overly generic narrative structure, it is made more nuanced and idiosyncratic by causing the rate of change, which is represented in the theoretical model of Figure 1. as entirely even, to be quite irregular. Given that the five sections of the work have roughly the same duration, a marked acceleration in the speed at which chords are outlaid can be witnessed through the first three: twelve sonorities are sounded in the first, eighteen in the second and twenty-four in the third. With the beginning of the fourth, however, we see a return to a rate of twelve per section, which is reduced in the fifth to six. The end of broad structural acceleration, which also happens to be the beginning of deceleration, is marked by the major climax of the work, which crosses the seam between the third and fourth sections. Before this point, there is a feeling of eager anticipation; after, a sense of gradual settling into peaceful contemplation. Thus the underlying psychology of the work can be articulated through purely musical parameters.

The two sets of variations are to a large extent at the mercy of the ground bass and its behavioural patterns. The way in which set 1 and set 2 intensify and dilute, which can be seen in Figure 2. and 3. respectively, are directly analogous to, and synchronous with the acceleration and deceleration of the bass. That is to say, a change of section indicates immediate and interconnected development in all three textures. The only exception to this trend is the periodic eruption in section four from both sets of variations of material characteristic of earlier temporal spaces. These anomalous occurrences are even reflected on the surface of the ground bass, however the steady march of its harmony remains unaffected by such bursts of activity, making this challenge to the slow drift into stasis a vain one. The overall narrative is nevertheless clearly enriched by these moments of dissent.

The manner in which this piece is orchestrated serves to accentuate the unfolding of events through time as described in the above paragraphs. The instrumentation of the ground bass is constant, apart from the odd highlighting of harmonic change in section three and four by the trombones. This approach reinforces the inevitability of the bass’s broad agenda. The two sets of variations, on the other hand, are somewhat more malleable. Set 1 has the following designation of instruments:

Similarly, Set 2 has this configuration:

The orchestration of the bass emphasises the backbone of the narrative, while the colouration of the variations is much more concerned with its internal thematic and harmonic flux, as a conflation of Figure 4. and 5. will show. Acceleration and growing density are seen in the increasing registral and timbral range from section 1 through 3; deceleration and dilution are traced by their decreasing in section 4 through 5, with the incidental throw-backs of four shown in its continued instrumental voluminousness. A closer reading of the score will confirm what these tables further imply, that the two sets of variations switch registral territory though the pivot of section 3.

Economy of Wax - Analysis

These notes refer to a recent work of mine for soprano, flute/piccolo, viola and harp, Economy of Wax.

* * * * *

Last year, in celebration of the bicentennial of Charles Darwin’s birth and the sesquicentennial of the publication of his Origin of Species, soprano Jane Sheldon and biologist Peter Godfrey-Smith commissioned a number of Australian composers to set extracts from this landmark work for soprano and chamber ensemble. These pieces, known collectively as The Origin Cycle, were premiered on Apr 28th in the Harvard Museum of Natural History by Firebird Ensemble, and will receive further performances in Halifax, Canada and Sydney (Nov 19th, Australian Museum). My contribution (Economy of Wax) centres round Darwin’s meticulous descriptions of how bees construct honeycomb. The music reflects this structure’s intricate mathematics, the intense activity of the bees themselves and Darwin’s keen, and on occasion, ecstatic observations.

* * * * *

“ We hear from mathematicians that bees have... solved a recondite problem, and have made their cells of the proper shape to hold the greatest possible amount of honey, with the least possible consumption of... wax in their construction.
...

[A] score of individuals work even at the commencement of the first cell. I was able ... to show this fact, by covering the edges of ... the extreme margin of the circumferential rim of a growing comb, with an extremely thin layer of melted vermilion wax;
...

[T]he colour was most delicately diffused by the bees as delicately as a painter could have done with his brush by atoms of the coloured wax ... worked into the growing edges of the cells all round. The work of construction ... a ... balance struck between many bees,... all trying to sweep equal spheres, and then building up, or leaving ungnawed, the planes of intersection between these spheres.
...

The bees, of course, no more knowing that they swept their spheres at one particular distance from each other, than they know what are the several angles of the hexagonal prisms and of the basal rhombic plates. The motive power of the process of natural selection having been economy of wax... "

From The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin

The musical materials and structure of Economy of Wax are substantially derived from the set text’s description of, and allusion to honeycomb construction (see above). To begin with, the honeycomb itself:

The geometry of the standard two-layer lattice shown here has some distinct properties. They include:

- A lining-up of points vertically between cells, due to the nature of interlocking hexagonal prisms arranged in two displaced layers (1).

- A base for each cell with three interlocking “rhombic plates”, each of which in turn has four sides (2). This comes out of (1), using the point of intersection of the three prisms in the opposing layer.

There is also a narrative inherent to the text, aspects of which are worth pointing out.

- A honeycomb being built up from scratch (3).

- The actions of bees within the process of construction, most notably their incredible number and freneticism, and their spherical movements in distributing wax (4).

The piece as a whole has a particular discrete, harmonic event of two seconds duration every twelve seconds. The outlaying of this gesture is designed to reflect aurally the visual qualities of the honeycomb, especially its internal repetitions and geometrical consistency. In effect, these events are a series of harmonies whose character is based on (1) and (3); that is, chords that expand and contract simultaneously up and down through register vis à vis the honeycomb shape, and also slowly build up through time in the same manner, in keeping with the text’s temporality. This bumpy harmonic ‘crescendo’ happens four times, in direct relationship to the four divisions of the text, and also once in an overlaid, overarching fashion through the whole work. The four sub-‘crescendi’ are themselves arranged as a harmonic ‘crescendo’. Here is a comprehensive visual representation of all that:

The sub-‘crescendi’ also act as skeletons for the four continuous, middleground sections which contiguously make up the piece. These sections correspond directly to the divisions in the text, are pervasively (4), and are predicated on a sort of gross word-painting, where textual meaning is articulated in a general manner through textural character.

A – General excitement over the mathematics of the honeycomb.
~ Hocketed ‘moto perpetuo’ reflects the frenetic and constant nature of this attachment.
~ ‘Event montage’ canon represents simultaneous zoomings-in on “construction” of particular cells.
~ Liberamente textures indicate formidable (if not excessive) “consumption”.

B – A celebration of experimental procedure
~ Waxing and waning tremolo and trills mimic “a score of individuals work”
~ Mix between measured and liberamente cycles represents “covering the edges”
~ ‘Dance’ with extreme registers, frenzied punctuations and circular melodic lines reflects “covering…the extreme margin…with…vermillion wax”

C – An up-close, voyeuristic look at construction itself.
~ Sporadic, registrally expanding chordal enunciation, very similar to overall work’s structure and consequently to (1) and (3). Two ‘crescendi’, one reflecting the delicate diffusion of wax, the other the “building up”of cells. Registrally contained lines “sweep equal spheres” and periodically bump into each other on “planes of intersection”.
~ Short episodes of liberamente, allusive to B, imply refocusing.

D – General excitement over the mathematics of the honeycomb.
~ Hocketed ‘moto perpetuo’, allusive to A, reflects the frenetic and constant nature of this attachment.
~ Mix between measured and liberamente cycles, allusive to B and C, represents experimental procedure
~ Final ecstatic heraldry for the textual and scientific conclusion, “The motive power of the process of natural selection having been economy of wax…”

Other aspects worth noting:

~ All pitch material comes from the serial manipulation of a melodic line whose shape mirrors the harmonic ‘cresecendo’ discussed above; that is, embodies (1) and (3).

- The constant metric interchange between x/4 and x/6 is a direct result of (2), a geometry with significant interplay between 2, 3 and their immediate multiples.