How to Apply for Music Studies in College

So you want to study music in college and you need to know how to get in? Here are a few suggestions.

You have the desire to study music. Great. You will need much of it to sustain you through lonely hours in a practice room. Unless you enjoy being alone in small spaces. Aside from application requirements, it would also be helpful to have a few things. 

What Are You Writing Now?

You would think a composer is one who composes music all the time, right? 

My experience at university, the place where composers go to teach because they want to write music but still have to make a living, taught me that this is not always the case. In fact, it seemed to me that most of my composition professors would have enjoyed having more time to compose. And less time having to check music theory homework for parallel fifths and octaves. 

Unfortunately for those who would like to, it isn't easy or simple to make a living from one's composing these days. But if you're one of those folks doing so, please share your success story for others in the comments below! (You can also voice your anger if I offended you with the above paragraph, but hey, that was once my plan, too). 

Over the past few years I have been preoccupied with matters other than composing. A few arrangements are all the these years have produced, which you could call Gebrauchsmusik and I wouldn't be offended. And the preoccupation is OK with me, for I am preparing for another line of work. 

Still, the composing continues, albeit at a much slower pace than it might otherwise. And so, my update is that I am currently working on a several new choral anthems, about which I hope to share more with you, real soon. 

Howard Hanson, A Brief Biography

The Composer's Childhood 

On 28 December 1896, Howard Hanson was born in Wahoo, Nebraska.[1] There he grew up without siblings.[2] His parents, Hans and Hilma, were Lutherans from Skåne, Sweden.[3] Allen Cohen, musicologist and assistant professor of music at Fairleigh Dickson University in New York,[4] noted in his Hanson biography: “As a boy Hanson considered a career in the Lutheran ministry. . . . Religious ideals and images are prominent in his writings and speeches, as well as in his compositions.”[5] Recalling his childhood, Hanson once said, “The music of the [Lutheran] chorales is pretty serious material, and this impressed me very greatly.”[6]  As a child, Hanson was first taught to play the piano and cello by his mother and later played cello in the high school orchestra, which he occasionally conducted.[7]  He later took lessons at Wahoo’s Luther College with A. O. Peterson who taught him music theory in addition to cello and piano performance.[8]

An Ambitious Student

A diligent student, Hanson once confessed, “I didn’t want to be second or third in the class—I wanted to be the first in the class, and I always was.  I wanted to be the best pianist around [Luther College], not the next best.  That was a kind of an ambition that probably helped me in professional life later on—that I was driving myself a little bit, probably, all my life.”[9]  Hanson’s drive to perform better than his peers helped him to graduate at the top of his high school class.[10]

Olivier Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time, Part 10

We now turn our attention to the “Danse de la fureur, pour les sept trompettes.” This movement features the quartet playing in unison with tessituras (the range of pitch content) that fall mostly in the staff. The movement uses a binary formal structure. And the double barline at Reh. I indicates the division between the exposition and development sections. 

Elastic Phrases and Additive Rhythms

Elastic phrase duration and rhythmic complexity characterize the opening theme of this movement. Phrases are “elastic” because Messiaen varies the number of rhythmic values in each phrase. These are known as “additive rhythms.” No meter given, so barlines are merely used to mark the end of phrases. Notice how the number of shorter rhythmic values leading up to a quarter note or half note differs from phrase to phrase in the example below.

Example: Theme of Movement VI at Rehearsal A. Brackets indicate rhythmic palindromes.

How to Compose a Choral Anthem for Church

Want to learn how to compose a choral anthem suitable for church? In “traditional” Protestant liturgy (to use a significant generalization) this anthem would probably serve for special music or music during the offertory and may or may not include congregational singing...

Olivier Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time, Part 5

by David Doty

What is a Palindrome?

What is a palindrome, you ask? Something political, perhaps (i.e. Palin+drome) ? 

A palindrome is a favorite compositional device of Olivier Messiaen, of course! When we look closely at Messiaen’s Quatuor pour la fin du Temps (1941) we can find palindromes all over the place. For example, consider part of the second movement.

First, a little context. Messiaen composes the B section of the second movement beginning at Reh. D using simple triple meter and syncopation. In this section, the cello doubles the melody two octaves below the violin using Messiaen’s “Mode 7” for pitch material. The melody climaxes at Reh. F with a crescendo into its highest register. 

In Example 1 below, brackets indicate several instances of rhythmic palindromes formed by the melody of the B section at Reh. D. 

Example 1. Theme from Movement II in the violin at Reh. D. Brackets indicate rhythmic palindromes. 

So, what is a palindrome? A rhythmic palindrome is simply a series or pattern of rhythmic values that reads the same forwards or backwards. A melodic palindrome would be a series of pitches that likewise reads the same forwards or backwards. Messiaen adds complexity by nesting rhythmic palindromes in one another, or, in other words, by starting a new one before the preceding palindrome has finished. This, by the way, is a really (really? yes really) fun way to compose complex rhythms. But you don't have to take my word for it.   

To read the next post in this series, click here.

Huayao ("Flowery Waist")

Turn down the volume on your speakers for this one and get ready for the song and dance of the Yi people of China.

The Yi are one of China’s many ethnic people groups. Their home is in southwest China in what is today Yunnan Province. The Yi girls are known for their distinctive style of singing called Haicai (pronounced “high-tsigh,” oh, never mind) meaning “sea grass.”[1] Its timbre (tone color) is similar to the forward singing of Bulgarian song featured in Le Mystere des voix Bulgares.[2] The Bulgarian singing differs from the Yi in a number of ways, however, language being one of them certainly, but also in terms of texture and harmonization.

Some listeners, at least those accustomed to Western classical music, may find the vocal quality, register, disjunctive melodies, and driving rhythms of the Yi song jarring or hard on the ears, especially in the faster sections. If this is you, try to listen to this with an open mind. It’s also pretty loud throughout, hence the speaker volume warning.

The recording (which you can watch below) begins with a monophonic introduction. The tempo is free and lacks a consistent pulse. The next section begins with offstage/recorded accompaniment and a slow, lyrical duet characterized by glissandi (sliding up or down into pitches, like a siren). The ornamentation here reminds one of Scottish highland bagpipe ornaments. The structure of this section functions as call and response and involves some polyphony as the duet continues to sing over the chorus of the other girls.

This soon gives way to an energetic, driving section with a clear rhythmic pulse, frequent repetition of melodic and rhythmic ideas, and a homophonic texture. Oh, and some really cool choreography, too.

It can be a mistake to (attempt to) directly import the techniques of another people group’s music into one’s own composition, especially if members of the particular people group are not available for the performance. For example, asking for Tibetan throat singing from untrained Western vocalists will not be  terribly effective. Trust me. This said, many elements of the song of the Yi girls could easily inspire new compositions in a Western musical context. How would a section of violins sound imitating the lyrical ornamentation of the duet? Could an ensemble or soloist incorporate the extremes of register and disjuntive nature of the Yi melodies? There are many possibilities.

Watch the recording of the Yi song and dance, then share your thoughts in the comments below.

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[1] You can read more about the Yi girls' song and dance at Dynamic Yunnan’s website by clicking here. 

[2] Watch a performance of Le Mystere des voix Bulgares on Youtube by clicking here. 

How to Write Music, Part 3

by David Doty

How do composers write music for instruments they don’t play?

Paper is cheap. Ink is cheap. Couldn’t composers just sprinkle droplets of ink on a piece of paper, hand it to a performer, and presto! (or andante, adagio, whatever), the piece gets performed?

Try this and a couple of things could happen:

The piece gets performed. It might not sound anything like what you had imagined or desired, but it gets performed nevertheless. Mission accomplished.

The piece receives no performance. Congratulations, you have another composition for the shelf.

Or worse yet, whether the piece gets performed or not, the performer(s) refuse(s) to work with you ever again. Not good!

Composers face multiple challenges when writing music, for performance at least, for instruments they cannot play and vocal parts they cannot sing. Assuming the composer wishes to continue receiving performances, if not also commissions, what should he or she do? The answer:

Consultation.

Composers don’t consult with performers for a variety of poor reasons. Perhaps they’re arrogant, lazy, or downright insensitive, bordering on the sadistic. Sometimes composers think they are too busy or too shy. But consultation with performers is key (no pun intended) to learning how to write for unfamiliar instruments and vocal parts. How should composers do consultation? I recommend the following:  

• Do Your Homework First. It will help to consult books on orchestration, musical scores, and recordings before meeting with performers. Time spent consulting is time away from practicing or teaching, so respect performers’ time. They will be glad if you do.

• Write Some Sketches. Come to a consultation appointment with sketches in hand. You want to learn how the instrument / vocalist sounds in various registers, playing various rhythms, articulations and dynamics, and what your particular performer(s) are capable of playing. It will help your performer(s) give you useful feedback if you share something of what you have in mind.

• Ask Them to Play Something. Many performers will also be happy to play selections of their repertoire for you, giving you further opportunity to discern their skill level and to imagine new possibilities.

By consulting with performers you not only show them respect, but you also receive the opportunity to learn important information leading to better compositions, more performances, and more enjoyment of the gift of music. It assures that you won’t write anything too easy or too challenging for your performers, and it may also provide you with inspiration, an invaluable tool for overcoming dreaded writer’s block.

Your Takeaway. What experiences have you had consulting about new compositions, whether as a composer or performer? Or, even if you’ve never consulted, what value do you think such consultation adds? Share your thoughts with a comment.

How to Compose Music: What is a Hook Anyway?

by David Doty

In previous posts I’ve used the term “hook” without defining it. You may be wondering, what is a hook anyway? OK, I’ll tell you.

Have you ever gone fishing?

A hook is a melodic device, or at least that’s how I typically think of it, usually a short musical phrase that catches the ear (Ouch! Well, not really). It helps make the song or piece “catchy” or memorable and helps gives the piece or song its distinctive character.

As a rule, or general guideline of composition if you prefer, a hook should be used at least twice in a piece or song to be effective. Used only once leaves the listener wondering “What was that? And why was it included?”

But perhaps the best way to explain a hook is with an example.

According to Wikipedia, Plain White T’s 2010 hit song Rhythm of Love has sold over a million copies. Perhaps this has something to do with its hook. This soft, folksy song opens with a whimsical hook that is excellent for our purposes of demonstration. The hook, noted on staff paper, looks something like this:

Underlying the song is a triplet sixteenth division of the beat, hence the brackets over the staff with “3” in the middle (the first two sixteenth notes of the triplet are contained in the eighth note rest). This example contains the first three instances of the hook used in the song's introduction, each all of four notes with a subtle change in the third instance.

It’s really best to listen to music and not only read about it if you want to learn more.

You can download Plain White T’s Rhythm of Love here.

Or give it a listen on YouTube here.  

Viva La Vida by Coldplay (2008)

by David Doty

Coldplay‘s pop hit, Viva La Vida (2008), may have reason to be considered almost (ok, somewhat?) classical. I’ll spare you the recording and chart performance details (you can read about them on Wikipedia here). I am far more interested in what’s going on musically.

  
Somewhat Classical

What makes this pop song at least somewhat classical? For me it’s the refreshing use of strings  (strings? Yes, strings!), a synth patch that sounds like a hammered dulcimer, combined with the use of timpani, a bell, bass drum, and suspended cymbal in place of a typical drum/trap set.

The song is in common (4/4) meter throughout and begins with eight measures of introduction featuring the song-characterizing riff-loop of the strings. This riff-loop is pretty consistent throughout. The chord progression IV, V, I, vi is also used throughout as well as the bass drum pulse on every beat beginning with the entrance of lyrics in the first verse. The combination of the strings’ rhythmic activity and the bass drum’s consistent pulse provide momentum and propel the song forward.

Tension and Resolution

The song builds to the first chorus when all of the tension created by the strings, drum, and melody (generally higher frequencies, except drum) is finally released with the entrance of the bass guitar filling out the texture. This moment is suitably accompanied by a crescendo created by the timpani and suspended cymbal.

Word Painting

The chorus, containing the lyrics “I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing,” is nicely augmented by a bell struck on the off-beats (beats 2 and 4). This gives the chorus a brighter color (timbre) with the additional high frequencies.

Poignancy

A number of elements contribute to the poignancy of this song. The melody of the vocalist and the countermelody of the strings create and resolve many suspensions, thereby adding to the richness of the harmonic context. The particular chord progression used extensively throughout may add to the sense of poignancy. Additionally, the lively tempo (137 BPM according to someone on Wikipedia-Oh where is my metronome when I need one?) and upbeat feel of the rhythmic content contrasts sharply with the dismal lyrics of the song’s protagonist.

Final Thoughts

The constant rhythmic pulse of the bass drum in this song is nearly a sure-fire way to make listeners happy. The psychology behind this phenomena, however, is beyond the scope of this post. Yet this pulse is only one of the many elements that I appreciate about this song. I welcome the use of classical instruments. The repetition of the same four chords is not unusual but nevertheless an enjoyable progression. And the lyrics are interesting…

…But I will refrain from speculating on their meaning in this post.

To watch the official Coldplay Viva la Vida MV on YouTube, click here.

To buy the Coldplay Viva La Vida album or MP3 download, click here.

Epikos Under Construction

A picture is worth a thousand words... or notes?

This is a photograph of sketches for a piece that I wrote called "Epikos" after the Greek word for "epic" or "journey" (Who said "Epic fail" !?!). The piece was performed by the NOISE quartet at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. This piece dealt with non-linear processes, but I'll save more on that for another time. 

How to Write Music, Part 2

In the previous How to Write Music post we discused the two main approaches to writing music, the Outside-In approach, working from the outside or the big picture (structure, instrumentation, duration, etc.) and the Inside-Out approach, developing a motif, hook, riff, etc. Regardless of which starting point you choose, some point you will need to decide between static and dymanic for any given musical element. What do I mean?

Static describes any element that remains constant or changes very little over the course of the piece. A vocal solo for soprano with piano accompaniment remains static in terms of instrumentation if both produce sound throughout a song. Dynamic, of course, means change. Change may be applied to rhythmic patterns, harmonic progressions, tempo, dynamics, and more. Static and dynamic are opposite poles of a continuum such that we must speak in relative terms. The texture of a minimalist composition from say, Philip Glass, is more static than the storm and stress of a Beethoven symphony.

To improve your music listening skills, as you listen, try to identify what musical elements are dynamic and which are more static. Is there a particular rhythmic patter that defines the piece? Is there an element of ear candy used throughout? Does it change during the bridge?  

To go to the next post in this series, click here.  

How to Write Music, Part 1

by David Doty

There are two primary approaches to writing music: Outside-In and Inside-Out.

The Outside-In approach begins with the macro, the big picture. It involves planning the structural elements, instrumentation, duration, etc. before getting down to actual pitches, rhythms, melodies and harmonies, etc. This is a great approach if you want to work with elements of hypermeter and large form structure, such as the intentional use of the golden mean as a compositional device. For many, however, this approach may be too abstract.

The other approach, Inside-Out, begins with a germ… (*cough*) a brief, simple idea which the composer builds upon. This could be a guitar riff, an ornament, a hook, or a tag line. It could be a twelve tone row, a pitch cluster, a mode, or a scale. Or it could even be a sound, recorded or generated, that you modulate, interpolate, transpose and in all manner of electronic music mutilate into a sonic mind-blowing odyssey.

In my own composing I enjoy employing a combination of both approaches. A solely Inside-Out approach can get one stuck quickly (and turn one’s composition into a type of minimalism when undesired) while an Outside-In composition sometimes feels impossible to start without some sort of kernel from which to work. I like starting with such a kernel, then stepping back and asking, "Now, what's going to happen to this idea throughout the course of the piece?"

This is to say there’s no right way to write music. The important thing is to start. The Chinese have a saying, “The longest journey begins with a single step.” The longest composition is no different. It begins with a choice: What happens first?


Click Here to go to "How to Write Music, Part 2."