Fratres ('Brothers')

This piece by Arvo Pärt is 11 minutes of pure, musical comfort. Written for violin and piano, the 1980 version is a set of variations upon the theme of the original Fratres. Pärt's music is characterised by simple but powerful melodies and a deep sense of tranquillity.

The piano plays a chant-like melody (from Pärt's Gregorian chant/ Russian orthodox church influences) to various accompaniments on the violin. With a calculated languor, the piano section is hymn-like, and remains in the lower registers, while the violin oscillates between passionately painful passages and peaceful stops. It is fascinating how the same ostinato like chant played by the piano can be transported to both unchartered levels of anguish and sections of quiet repose. This is all very skillfully done by the manipulation of the violin's timbre, from stormy arpeggios and tortured chords to aurorean broken chords.

Listening to his music is a very spiritual experience; every note is beautifully played (as demanded by the composer) till its voice and pitch are exhausted. Even passages of quiet solitude evoke the most passionate responses in their insidious, implicit pain. Yet, it is in musical wretchedness that the listener finds comfort - a universal sort of comfort, that alleviates any form of grief with its purity, its honest expression of humanity.

Additional description would be superfluous, and quite contrary to Pärt's compositional philosophy.

Listen to Fratres here.

Anon.

The Draughtsman's Contract

One of the several mind-blowing Peter Greenaway-Michael Nyman films, this sophisticated soundtrack is the perfect complement to an equally mind-boggling and cultivated mystery film. As the film is inspired by Queen of Crime Agatha Christie, the music is inspired by Henry Purcell, one of the few English composers to have excelled in the music scene.

One of the main feature tunes is listed in the official soundtrack as ‘The Disposition of the Linen’. This composition has its roots in Purcell’s song ‘She loves and she confesses too’, an enchanting love song built above a hypnotically repeating ground bass. Far from “indulging in the pointless activity of musical pastiche” [Michael Nyman], the composer, in transcribing the song, took a radical turn and brought the 17th century into the 20th, thereby achieving both compositional and musicological success. Most prominent is the difference in instrumentation. Whereas the original features the soft lulling of the harpsichord, bass viol and theorbo, Nyman’s version relishes a consort of saxophones and bass guitar among other instruments; indeed, saxophones being Nyman’s constant favoured instrument aside, no instruments can better ‘modernise’ the long buried Baroque ditty.

The main musical transformation is seen in the transmutation of a through-composed song into a fervently and obsessively repetitive composition. Certainly the original repeating ground bass suits Nyman’s minimalist methods, but his idea of breaking up the original phrases and layering them proves impressive. Symbolically the convergence of both space and epoch, the slow emergence of countermelodies alludes to the insidious concerns of the film, and the piling up of musical threads reflects the irrevocable thickening of conceit in the film itself. In addition, the music also achieves a harmonic stasis that suits the fixed ‘framing’ imagery running through the film. Despite the elements of immobility, the music, through its interweaving rhythms perpetuates a sense of unstoppable motion, not unlike the fugue, the paradigm of the high Baroque style. Hence just as the attempt at fusing two styles separated four hundred years is paradoxical, the result is also one wrought with interesting contradictions.

Where extra-musical implications are concerned, Nyman’s choice of quotation is exceedingly appropriate. The poem by Abraham Cowley which Purcell’s song is set to depicts the narrator’s attempt to defeat the “noisy nothing, stalking shade” – which is “bold Honour” – in his attempt to attain his true love. In the film, the draughtsman, Mr. Neville, is portrayed as a man without honour and with more conceit than true wisdom and intelligence to save his life. Ironically, the “empty cause of solid harms” that is mentioned in the song, turns out to be the merciless plotting of the two ladies with whom the draughtsman had his pleasurable rendezvous.

This is but one example of the most impressive collection in the official soundtrack; similar concepts can be seen in the enticing ‘Queen of The Night’. One has to listen to the music in relation to the film in order to fully digest the symbolism involved. Unfortunately, both music and film are currently unavailable in Singaporean stores.

Listen to snippets of 'The Disposition of the Linen' and 'She loves and she confesses too'.

Anon.

Metamorphoses

A set of five pieces by Philip Glass, stasis of harmonic accompaniment is used to good effect in this work. At its most fundamental level, the music consists of sparse chords and oscillating harmonic lines. The chord progression repeats itself to create a hypnotic effect. What is fascinating about his melody is the intensity it creates with so little material. Chromatism plays a part in this, of course; but more importantly, the repetition of a single idea forces the listener to focus on what the music is trying to say, sort of like hammering in the point. It is an issue contentious in effect - repetition may lead to boredom, or it may be a more effective means of communicating compositional intent. Minimalist music is frequently used in film soundtracks because of this simplicity and directness. It is music stripped to its most elementary form - making it more accessible to the audience in terms of mood. To be frank, this conflicts with our modern day fast-paced media: visual and aural inputs vary from second to second, whereas Glass' metamorphoses play like a broken record that keeps rewinding at the end of every 8 bars.

This is music for the patient, or those with a fetish for simplicity, to sit and appreciate it's repetitive, hypnotic effect, to listen for essence rather than for diversity - that's the underlying idea to me. The first and last metamorphoses are rather identical, whereas the three in the middle differ in little details like meter and key. The main musical devices are the same throughout - after all, precious little changes between each stage of metamorphosis. The reiteration of the original motifs at the end of the metamorphosis constructs a paradox, but it is not aurally disagreeable because metamorphosis I contains one of the most impactful melodies. Perhaps someone may care to venture a reason for this recap.

The score is available at the esplanade library, published by Chester Music. The book also contains other interesting works, such as Wichita Vortex Sutra (written to the poem by Allan Ginsberg on the Vietnam war), and Mad Rush. It is not technically demanding, but much concentration is required to capture details such as the number of repetitions of a bar. For more of Glass' music, the film Koyaanisqatsi is also available at the esplanade library.

Save target as to listen to Metamorphosis I

Anon.