Opus Colorado

In 2010, in Sacramento, California, an experimental rap group was founded by Stefan Burnett (his stage name is MC Ride), Zach Hill, and Andy Morin (his stage name is Flatlander). They call their group Death Grips, and one of their works, which I heard, is entitled Get Got. The name of the album in which this work appears is “The Money Store,” and the cover art depicts a dominatrix with a leash, which is attached to an androgynous male (a male with breasts), on whose chest is carved “Death Grips.” Of course, that is sure to attract the attention of many of today’s youth.

According to the Urban Dictionary, Get Got is a term used to indicate the death of an individual, as in, “Get out of my face, before you get got!” It can also indicate a connection to pregnancy, as in, “I won’t get got, I’m on the pill.” And, within that frame of reference, it can also indicate a young man who is in need of a girl, as in, “What’s a guy got to do to get got in this town?”

Death Grips’ debut album was called Exmilitary, and NBC New York.com called it a very “… intense, and dark listen.” I have not heard that album, or anything from it, so I can’t address that review, but Death Grips’ one piece that I did hear, Get Got, is anything but intense or dark.

The video of Get Got, which you can find at http://www.last.fm/music/Death+Grips, features MC Ride sitting in a chair in the middle of the street and performing Get Got while doing all of the hand motions that rap seems to require, though in this case they are more arm motions than hand motions. Apparently, Mr. Burnett has not read the Rappers Handbook by Escher and Rappaport. According to that publication, “… hand motions are used to emphasize certain words and give a visual element to a listening experience.” It goes on to say that hand gestures can pump up the crowd at a party (And, just think, in my youth I used to dress nicely to do that) or they can be used to visually cut down an opponent. And, most noble of all, hand gestures should often be used to help the performer concentrate and “stay flowing.” The best rappers, it seems, use the hand gestures so that they seem to be an extension of the verse. But, I must say, that it does appear that hand gestures are entirely necessary to emphasize the words, at least in this piece, which I have heard, because one cannot understand the words at all. What do you suppose ever happened to diction? At the risk of exposing the fact that my imagination might be considered moribund, I always thought that when one sang or recited poetry that the words were the most important. There was, however, one word which was more carefully enunciated than the others, and reappeared often in the refrain stanza of this rap. That word was f—. I am also fairly sure, but not positive due to the poor diction, that I heard the word s—. Other than those two words, I simply could not understand anything else that MC Ride was saying. He also performed the poetry at one consistent dynamic level, and that was loud.

Since this is rap, none of the following elements of music are present except (in this particular album) for a synthesized rhythmic element:

1. Rhythm (beat, meter, tempo, syncopation)
2. Dynamics (forte, piano, etc.)
3. Melody (pitch, theme, conjunct, distinct)
4. Harmony (chord, progression, consonance, dissonance)
5. Tone color (range, register, instrumentation)
6. Texture (monophonic, homophonic, polyphonic, imitation, counterpoint
7. Form (binary, ternary, etc., though composed)

Rap is supposed to be poetry chanted to a rhythmic pattern. Some individuals do classify this as music even though it generally does not contain any of the elements of music, which are mentioned above, except rhythm. Since this particular work, therefore, cannot be classified as music, and since the words in this recording cannot be understood even though they are supposed to be of prime importance, what function does Get Got serve?

This album, The Money Store, has collected some very high scores from several reviewers. Jayson Green of Pitchfork Media gave the album 8.7 out of 10, and in so doing, said, “The Money Store is about as intellectual an experience as a scraped knee. But, it’s just as good at reminding you that you’re alive.” If Get Got is only useful to remind one that he/she is still alive, then why give such a high score. Why not explain that the main thrust of the work, the text, is virtually unintelligible except for a few expletives, and give it the low score that it deserves because the primary subject matter is missing?

Not long ago I taught a class of twenty-one graduate level students in Medieval music. I asked them what kind of music they listened to, and all of them, save one, said they listened to rap and to rock. When I asked them why they did not listen to serious music, i.e., Mozart, Mendelssohn, or Stravinsky, they said that rock and rap allowed them to listen without thinking. I certainly had to agree with that, because how can one think about what is contained in rap when the words cannot be understood.

So many of our youth today wish to avoid any kind of thoughtful contemplation. It certainly appears that they often do not want to confront their own serious thoughts, let alone the serious thoughts of others, because of the potential confrontation that those thoughts may provoke.

This is germane to rap and rock because, with such great frequency, the words cannot be understood, unless one reads the album notes. I do not own the album which contains Get Got, and therefore, I could not read the liner notes. I do not know if the words that I could not understand reflected the cover art portraying the dominatrix and the masochist, or if the words were simply benign.

In serious music, particularly in the Romantic Period, there was a genuine union between music and language when so many composers wrote songs. It was a true supremacy of the language of feelings over the language of fact, and one would suppose that is the direction that rap might take. However, there is nothing notable or noble in this particular work entitled, Get Got. As I have mentioned in other articles, Felix Mendelssohn even wrote a set of short piano pieces which he entitled Songs Without Words (the underlining of that portion of the title is mine). When he was asked about the meaning of some of his songs without words he replied, “The thoughts that are expressed to me by music that I love are not too indefinite to be put into words; but on the contrary, too definite.” He expected some mystery to be felt by the individuals who heard those pieces because, due to the expressivity of the music, one automatically begins to wonder at what the words could be, and how they might fit the music that Mendelssohn wrote. I would like to stress that even though the words are absent, the music is not, and it forces us to think about what might be.

There certainly is not any mystery that might encompass a thought process in Get Got. Because it is rap, there is no music, and because the words are unintelligible, they are absent as well.

If one is going to take something seriously enough to write about it, or to create it, why not take the medium, the language, seriously as well. Rap poets presumably have something to say, but when it is unintelligible, and when it is consistently filled with inarticulate colloquialisms used only for shock value, it only perpetuates a perceived lack of intelligence and artistry by many in the audience.

I have heard other adults say to me that rap poets write in that way to make it “appealing” to members of their own generation. If that is true, then I object to it more strongly than ever, because what it truly succeeds in doing is to strip away any kind of meaning that is important to their performance. If they do not dedicate themselves to their own words, how can they expect others to comprehend the significance and meaning of what they write?

I am fully aware that our current society needs an entertainment factor, and I certainly don’t object to that need. I do find it quite amazing that many of our youth seem to go out of their way to avoid art and music. Colloquialisms may be fine for private conversation, but including them in work that the authors consider important represents a lack of skill.

There have been many artistic movements in the past that have been considered “subcultures.” Wouldn’t it be wonderful if young people today would imbue rap and rock with an undeniable artistic merit, so that we could all step back and be awed by it in the same way that the public was awed by Impressionist painting, or Symbolist poetry?

I recently attended a concert of a deservedly famous violinist, Sarah Chang, whose movements, while performing, were so excessive that I wondered how she could perform at all. Though I have heard this violinist on recordings, this was the first time I have seen her perform live since she was about ten years old, and yes, she was a child prodigy. She is one of the finest violinists today. As I have written before, there is no question that all musicians must move when they perform or play their instrument.

While playing, she jumped up and down, and twice during the concert, she performed a three-step backward hop on both feet. This is while she is bowing her violin, and as far as I can tell there is no explanation or purpose for that kind of activity while one is trying to play the correct notes and phrasing. At the ends of phrases, she would raise her bow above her head and swing it in a full circle with her arm fully extended. When I saw this performance, she was performing a violin concerto which means that she was surrounded by other musicians which were seated in fairly close proximity. I point out that they had cleared a larger than average space for Ms. Chang, presumably to give her more room for her movements. Nonetheless, I was concerned that she would strike the music stand of the concertmaster. While playing, she would also bend over backwards so far that I considered she might fall down. It was extreme.

I point out that I have often seen violinists who don’t move at all, and seem reluctant to even move their bow arm more than four or five inches. The result is a sound that reflects no variation in phrasing or dynamics, and is devoid of any emotion. This, of course, is the opposite extreme. One does need to move.

The pianist Lang Lang is another example of an individual who is well-known for his excessive movements during performance. He leans back and gazes at the ceiling, swings his arm off the keyboard and behind him, clutches his heart with one hand, buries his nose in the keyboard, and occasionally swings his feet up underneath the piano. He does all of this while contorting his face, and rolling his eyes back into his head.

As I have stated before, movements and performance are necessary. Pianists must move because their thumb and their fifth finger are shorter than their three middle fingers. So a pianist is constantly traversing from the outer short fingers across the longer middle fingers. Every pianist has different hands: the fortunate ones have a great deal of meat on the ends of their fingers, and thus, can curve their fingers more. When a pianist curves his/her fingers, the long middle fingers and the fifth finger become equal in length. The ends of the fingers are where the tone comes from. When a pianist plays passage work that involves many black keys, then one must play with flatter fingers. Therefore, more movement is necessary to stay relaxed and to help reach the black keys. Pianists also need to make sure that the back of their hand is level with their forearm. In addition, they need to let their arms hang naturally from their shoulders. All of this helps to ensure that they will stay physically relaxed. Granted this is a very quick and not very thorough explanation, but movements beyond those mentioned in this paragraph are usually unnecessary.

Many pianists excuse excessive movement by explaining that they have read reports of how Franz Liszt used to move at the keyboard, and, indeed, there are cartoons that were drawn of Liszt in performance which show his hair flying and his hands very high off the keyboard. Before the performances of Liszt, Chopin, and Clara Schumann, audiences were accustomed to see keyboard performers move very little.

Prior to Liszt, Clara Schumann, and Chopin, the piano was the fortepiano, which was the precursor to the pianoforte. Its development was begun around 1700, but the fortepiano was not perfected until around 1750.

The pianoforte, which had just been invented in 1821 by Broadwood, demanded and allowed a new technique to play. Broadwood was the first manufacturer to use an iron frame. Other piano manufacturers followed suit. Due to the iron frame, the piano strings could be pulled tighter than on the fortepiano which was constructed entirely of wood. The result was increased volume, and increased sustaining power – if one held the key down, the sound continued for a longer time than on the fortepiano, and certainly on the harpsichord. No matter how hard one played a harpsichord, its volume would not increase or decrease because of its mechanical restrictions, which, by the way, were not intentional. It was, simply, that technology had not progressed to the point where hammers struck the strings, rather than plectra, which plucked the string.

The fortepiano had hammers that hit the strings, but there was no iron frame which allowed the strings to be drawn tightly. It was capable of increased dynamic shadings in comparison to a harpsichord, and it had a very mellow and lush sound. It was the first stringed keyboard instrument on which one could play legato, and it was an enormous change from the harpsichord even though the actual mechanism was still relatively primitive compared to a modern piano. In addition, there were limits to the speed that could be obtained when compared to the modern piano.

Because of the limitations of the harpsichord, one could not play louder or softer, so there was no need to move a great deal. One simply sat and played, moving only when necessary to help one’s fingers in difficult passage work. Using greater force to change dynamics accomplished nothing.

The fortepiano, with its newer technologies, was a great boon to performers, with its ability to allow them to change dynamics, and its ability to play faster. Composers such as Haydn, Mozart, Schubert, and Beethoven relished the new instrument.

Out of necessity, performers began to perform on the fortepiano because it produced more favorable results. By the time the piano with the iron frame was invented (Its name gradually became the pianoforte, rather than fortepiano, and eventually, just piano.), Beethoven was totally deaf, but nonetheless, partially realized its new potential. However, without his ability to hear, he never realized its full potential. Beethoven’s last Sonata, Opus 111, his Diabelli Variations, and his two sets of bagatelles, were written between 1821 and 1824. He came to the conclusion that the piano was an inadequate instrument, and concentrated on writing string quartets. Of course, there is the age-old question which will never be answered: what if Beethoven had not gone deaf?

Due to the above-mentioned improvements in piano construction, and its vastly increased ability in volume and expression, the piano attracted new performers and composers. In many ways, it is remarkable that composers and pianists alike discovered its potential so rapidly. Keep in mind that the technique required to play the piano progressed just as rapidly, especially because composers Chopin, Liszt and Robert Schumann were writing for the instrument.

Much has been made of Liszt’s “showmanship,” and the way his movements seemed exaggerated. I think much of this excessive movement was exaggerated in the press, and in the letters sent by concert goers to each other. They were unaccustomed to seeing a pianist move in order to draw increased dynamic range, legato playing, and accompanying phrasing ability, out of the instrument. They were also unaccustomed to attending a solo keyboard performance. Certainly, Beethoven and Schubert were the first to do solo recitals, but they were not as popular as they were to become. Chopin, Liszt, and Clara Schumann were inventing new technique all the time for the new instrument, and doing so quite rapidly. Clara Schumann and Franz Liszt were the first pianists to turn the piano sideways, rather than performing while facing the audience. Many people have ascribed this to the vanity of the performer, but they fail to realize that the full sound of the piano was more available to the audience when the piano was turned sideways and its lid opened.

Consideration of the “new instrument,” and its new abilities in creating sound, explain, in part, how increased movement is necessary in order to play it. There are many modern pianists who exaggerate the movements they make, in order, I think, to prove to some of the audience how expressive they are, rather than let the music provide the expression. Rachmaninoff, Horowitz, Rudolph Serkin, Sviatoslav Richter, and John Browning, certainly moved when it was necessary, but not to the extent that Lang Lang does. Rachmaninoff and Horowitz moved hardly at all.

There was a scholarly paper written and presented to the Society for Education, Music and Psychology Research, that, I believe, was presented to the University of New South Wales in 2012. It was written by Jane Davidson, and entitled Bodily movement and facial actions in expressive musical performance by solo and duo instrumentalists: Two distinctive case studies.

In the abstract of the paper, Davidson states that, “The first study examined flute and clarinet performers in both solo and duo settings. Whilst each player has a specific way of expressing musical goals through their bodily movement, there were features common to the woodwind instruments investigated. Detailed analysis revealed that, although many movements were possible, performers used only six basic expressive gesture types. The second study described a performance of the internationally celebrated pianist, Lang Lang, focusing on the relationship between musical effect, bodily movement and facial expression. Analysis also revealed extensive and striking use of combined bodily and facial expression, which was involved in articulating structural features of the music and the narrative of the work. Findings suggest the existence of a repertoire of expressive information used for the generation of expressive ideas, and available to the observers and music performers.”

Concerning the woodwind performers, Davidson states that, “… Yet the woodwind players in the study barely showed any expressions on their faces. One possible explanation for this is that, since they hold their instruments in or close to their mouths, the face is too occupied with the activity of instrument control.” That seems to me a fairly obvious conclusion, and I am not sure that it needs a psychology paper to determine that. I also point out that Davidson did exert an immense amount of effort placing cameras in just the right spot, and aiming at the faces, etc. Her comments, as a result of this study of the flautist and clarinetist were very clinical and to the point.

In her study of Lang Lang, a film was observed of Lang Lang performing one of his favorite composers, Franz Liszt. Camera positions were codified as front view close-up, rear view close-up, side profile shot, etc. The musical score was followed by an assistant who could read music, and comparison was made between content of the score and Lang Lang’s gestures. Admittedly, I read this forty page article hurriedly, but I was struck by the fact that Jane Davidson (I am not sure if she has a doctorate, or if this paper was leading to a doctorate) was thoroughly impressed by how the rapturous visage of Lang Lang so closely followed the score, and, therefore, must be assisting his emotion filled performance.

I found myself wishing that Ms. Davidson was more of a musician, because I think it would have assisted her in the revelations and discoveries made in this paper. I certainly agree that playing a performance on stage in front of an audience takes intense concentration, because one must remember every single note, rest, and phrase. One does not memorize simply by playing the piece so often that one’s hands know where to go. That is the first step, but it cannot be the only step. In addition, being able to concentrate helps one ignore the audience and thoroughly concentrate on the music. And, when one is concentrating so intensely, it seems that it would destroy that concentration, and distract oneself by excessively assuming different motions and facial expressions just to prove to the audience how wondrously expressive one is. I have seen some pianists move to such an extent, that I am sure it is artificial. I fail to understand how excessive movements translate into meaningful music.

Sadly, I know of some private teachers who, when they have a young student who emulates excessive movements they see adult pianists make, do not encourage the student to reduce the movements so that they can concentrate on playing. I have heard them tell the parents that the movements are “impressive” because they illustrate the artistry of their child, and they don’t want to harm the students “spirit.” Do not misunderstand me: I am not saying that movement is unnecessary. Only excessive movement.

I repeat: it seems to me that any movement that comes naturally and is a part of making music is not detrimental. On the other hand, if the movement is contrived, it is extraneous and requires an unnecessary mental effort, that, at the very least, interferes with the flow and the mechanics of making music. Most certainly, it is distracting to the listener, just as Elvis Presley’s movements were distracting, and just as all the guitar smashing in past rock concerts was distracting. However, there is always the consideration that the guitar smashing was an integral part of the act that surpassed the music being played.

There is a violinist who performs only classical music, and is, by all accounts, a superb violinist. He is Korean-American, but recently changed his name from Yoo Hanbin to Hahn-Bin, and now to Amadéus Leopold. He studied at Juilliard with Itzhak Perlman. In spite of his reputation as a violin virtuoso, he wears very heavy makeup, has a very tall Mohawk haircut, and often brings a set of stairs out on stage, and while he is performing, he climbs up and down the stairs. It is unclear to me how this adds to the art of a Vivaldi Violin Concerto or a Brahms Violin Concerto. It leaves me wondering if the trends in rock concerts, where there must be a “show” or exhibition to attract attention to oneself, has become more important than attracting attention to the music with one’s virtuosity. Judging by the photographs I have seen, his appearance and stage antics are so distracting that the music will be totally forgotten.

Brass and woodwind musicians cannot possibly do this kind of thing, because they would risk the danger of changing their embouchure to the point where they could no longer play.

What has happened to the expectation of going to a concert and listening to the music without having to watch antics on stage that have nothing to do with the music? One would hope that a mentor or former teacher would pull them aside and explain what a distraction it is.

There are so many young concert artists today who have remarkable ability. One would hope that the time spent learning to play their instrument, their hours of practice every day, their knowledge of the literature, and the ovation they receive after performing a serious concert in a serious manner, would convince them that they have arrived.