The other day I saw a dress rehearsal for Opera Theatre of St. Louis' production of Don Giovanni, music by W.A. Mozart, libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte. This is my fifth favorite opera (after another Mozart, The Magic Flute, Verdi's Falstaff, Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg, and Strauss' Der Rosenkavalier), and of the five, the first I was able to see live. I was not disappointed. The Opera Theatre usually hires younger singers who are on the verge of a major career, so audiences get the double fortune of youthful, fresh voices that are also well-trained and have some experience. I can't think of a single miscast. The man in the title role had, for my taste, a little too much swagger in his voice at times (by which I primarily mean scooping), but that is my main concern, and he otherwise very much looked the part (in fact, the best look I've seen); Leporello was perhaps the best cast, a reminder of Leporello's comic nature. The production, however, had the unfortunate dashes of Eurotrash, which I was surprised to see in this part of the world. Perhaps the directors (one of whom I know as an acquaintance from working together in Opera Studio) thought the supernatural aspects in the 2nd act gave them license to play with the opera all-around, but it came of as campy. My eyes rolled dangerously when, after Don Giovanni murders the Commendatore, three ghostly figures walk out, one of them carrying a timepiece. One of my viewing companions, Dr. Carter, said during intermission that he viewed these and the other figures that appeared occasionally as symbols of the decay of the libertine lifestyle the Don would eventually face. That seems likely, but also insulting. Symbols are meant to reveal deeper aspects of things that otherwise would not be seen; people don't need decaying spectres to tell them that such a way of life does not end well. It came off as hokey. The conductor was Jane Glover, who wrote a wonderful biography of sorts on Mozart called Mozart's Women, and does the great job of avoiding feminism while still giving due respect to the females in the composer's life.
The Don Juan legend vies with the Wandering Jew legend as one of the most vital European legends to affect Western Civilization. I recall reading that one supposed origin is from a Spanish nobleman, who, wanting to conceal his rampant homosexuality, spread rumors of his straight conquests. Essentially, the legend concerns a libertine who gets his due, usually by going to Hell. The three greatest literary works inspired by the figure are Moliere's play Dom Juan, Byron's poem Don Juan (pronounced joo-en), and Kierkegaard's Either/Or. In music, it inspired Richard Strauss to write a tone poem. Then there's the opera Don Giovanni, which is perhaps the most influential version of them all.
As it does with most other artists contending with it, the Don Juan legend seemed to cause many equivocal feelings in Mozart and da Ponte (da Ponte had been something of libertine, and was friends with Casanova, who was in the audience at the premiere of Don Giovanni). The opera defies classification. It is officially considered a "dramma giocoso," a catch-all term for anything that mixed the comical and serious; Mozart entered it as "opera buffa," which seems odd if one thinks only of the more harrowing moments of the work. It is probably the prime exemplar of Mozart's gift of combining various styles and elements into a unified and cohesive whole. In Leporello and the peasants, you have the elements of opera buffa; in the nobles, you have opera seria; Don Giovanni is able to go between the two. However, he seems to falter at the newer presence in opera, the supernatural, a beckoning of Romanticism that was fast approaching; the Don courageously, if foolishly and hubristically, tries to defy his the Statue and his fate, that which he himself set up to occur, but is dragged to Hell for his defiance. Seeing it again, I realize how much a check Don Giovanni is against my sensibilities of liberty, much like Ecclesiastes is against my romantic ones. In the first act finale (one of the glories of opera, and music in general), Giovanni leads the peasants in a salute to liberty ("Viva la libertá!"), which inspired the most equivocal feelings I have had in seeing this work. (One interesting criticism of the opera concerns Mozart's increasingly negative view of the Enlightenment, and, since many modern ideas concerning the nature of liberty spring from this period, it would be interesting to explore this.) He both means and doesn't mean what he says (I'll leave you to figure that out). As a libertine, he shows the depths to which one can take liberty. I will never reject freedom, but I do recognize full on the depravity it invites. But that is more the fault of human character and action.
Which brings me to Don Giovanni himself. What kind of character is he? Some compare him to Hamlet, in that he seems to invite as many interpretations as there are people, which I suppose could be the case, but as there are higher orders of infinity in mathematics, so too here, and Hamlet is at least one order removed from Giovanni. I find the Don to be one of the largest cases of inherent emptiness made explicit. He is little more than appetite, which this recent production really brought out. One wonders how he has time for anything else, if he has bedded some 1800 women; the noble are not invincible to debt, and the Don seems to have plenty of money on hand, though perhaps such questions are irrelevant, or not, if we are to concern ourselves with liberty. The wedding party he hosts in the first act finale is supremely decadent (some go so far as an orgy). At his last supper, he begrudgingly allows Leporello to have some morsels of food, hording the rest to himself. Opera Theatre's production has a wall full of pictures of his conquests right to next to Giovanni as he dines, an addition I quite like, for, in addition with the next thing I will list, it seems that, before his damnation, he is surrounded by that which satiates him. One more thing which pleases his appetite, it is unfortunate to notice, is music. He eats as three different selections of music are played (one of which is one of Mozart's most famous tunes, "Non piú andrai" from The Marriage of Figaro), cycling through them as quickly as he does women (I am reminded of something G.K. Chesterton said, that dining with music is an insult to both the cook and the violinist). I bring this up because I am bothered at the moment by a troublesome question: is music divine, or is it human? In other words, is music truly worthy of God, or is it a delightful construct of man? The Psalms presume to praise God through music, but is it a good medium or a diversion? I'll leave this to another time, but it is important here because music is, no matter what, a sensuous experience, and the Don knows nothing deeper than sensuality. So, again, what type of character is the Don? He is not Shakespearean, for I do not think he has an inwardness, or a lack of inwardness that matters. More importantly, he does not change, which Shakespeare's great personages do. This is important, at least concerning his damnation. Dante's characters necessarily experience no change, as Harold Bloom says: they have received their judgment, and, I think, so has Don Giovanni. All the pleas for renunciation from Donna Elvira, and the demands of the Statue, are useless. The great moment in the first act finale when Zerlina leads the charge in telling Don Giovanni he's done for is perhaps a redundancy, as that was the case when we first see him. I think that is part of the foregrounding involved. Sometime before the events of the opera occur, the Don had already become a lost cause; the murder of the Commendatore only hastens his demise.
Mind you, most of the thoughts are inspired more by the music than the words, admirable libretto though it is. It is widely accepted that Mozart's genius lay in opera, that his true gifts sing through his characters. There will have to be another post to consider the music, for there is simply too much to explore here and now. Only Verdi, and to a smaller extent Puccini, consistently manifested such humanistic music that breathed life and character into the people on the page. Wagner achieved this in Die Meistersinger, but his other operas are too much in the realm of myth and gods to be human. Strauss did so in Der Rosenkavalier, but there is something else in his other works. Mozart remains the paragon of shaping humans with music.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Three Modes of Persuasion
I often wonder if people find me cold or uncaring. Though nothing could be further from the truth, whenever I state my beliefs and "political" ideas, I sense that the other person or people think there is something deficient in my morality or character. Here, I would like to explain myself.
Aristotle laid out three modes of persuasion in his Rhetoric: ethos, pathos, and logos. Ethos is an "appeal to the authority or honesty of the speaker," and we derive the word "ethics" from it. Pathos "is an appeal to the audience’s emotions," from which we get "pathetic" (as well as a direct cognate). And logos "is logical appeal or the simulation of it," from which we get "logic." This is supposedly the order they were placed in Aristotle's book, but I do not think it is a good order at all. I say this, because I think one should find a way to employ at least two of these in an argument, but it is much better if all three are present. This covers the bases, so to speak, and makes an attempt for persuasion much more likely to succeed. As such, I place a hierarchy on the importance and order in which these three elements are introduced, and it is this: logos, ethos, pathos.
Logos
I am already touching upon what I think makes me seem cold. Practically all arguments I make start with reasoning, facts, data, theory, etc. Frequently, these are dispassionate (despite my passionate delivery of them), seemingly unkind, and possibly cruel. This is because I try to reach bedrock truth, where objectivity is supreme. My ability to objective is both a strength and a weakness. It allows me to be constantly levelheaded about things, but it frequently inhibits my ability to "be in the moment." One of my foundational principles is that the first, last, and most important piece of property you will ever own is your own person, the body, the mind, and the soul of it. Some can follow and see my point, but many frequently seize up at the hearing people referred to as "property" because of the history of slavery. I can understand this, but they forget the number one law of property rights: no one may take it, alter it, or destroy it, without the owner's permission. This should effectively eliminate concerns about slavery, since forcing one to work against one's will and without permission violates their property rights to their own person. Another principle of mine is that the only real rights you have in this world are all property rights. Life is a condition of owning your own body, so that is part and parcel; liberty, the freedom to do what one wants as long as it does not transgress against another's rights, is also subsumed under this, since another stipulation of property rights is the freedom of the owner to do with it as he pleases, whether it is improvement or destruction, and to achieve this, he must act to achieve the tools and supplies needed, and this requires a free but respectful interaction with others (in almost all cases). The third right we are familiar with, "the pursuit of happiness," is actually different from what was originally third, which was "property," but "the pursuit of happiness," in my book, has stock in life and liberty. Following this, the many rights bandied about these days are illegitimate. The right to water, food, shelter, an education, etc, are nice things to say, but fall flat in the face of reasoning (particularly my brand of "Terminal Extent Reasoning"). If I have the right to food, then it follows that I am entitled to it, that no matter what, I am bound by some law to own food, and any lack of ownership is a transgression against my right. If this is so, then food may be taken from another to achieve this end. This already flies in the face of property rights, but let's continue. Now, this person whose food stores are being emptied by the entitled must now go out and obtain more food so he can have some for himself. He must either produce it himself or work harder to earn money to purchase more. In effect, he is forced to labor so that part of his wealth may be turned over to others, which is slavery, the most contemptible form of disrespect for property rights. Entitlement leads to moral hazard, which is when people act in ways they wouldn't otherwise because risk has been artificially lowered, and this leads further to the inability to appreciate a thing's true worth, for if one can have something no matter what, they will value less.
"But what about the homeless" or the "poor" or the "starving?" This leads to pathos, which I will deal with later. Many people cannot get beyond the supposed heartlessness of the argument, and therefore think it is invalid. Yet, the central idea of this argument, that "no one owes you anything" (and therefore you owe no one else anything), is what instills self-reliance and responsibility where it should matter first: with yourself. They also overlook that another aspect of property rights is the freedom to give it away at whatever cost the owner deems appropriate, and this includes freely, what we otherwise call charity. People in more ancient times may have lacked the kindness we pride ourselves on these days, but they are no reason to think that people now are uncharitable. Indeed, as wealth increases for everyone, so does charitibility. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Ethos
It is hoped that the soundness of logic will instill a sense of authority in the speaker, but if not, then authority must be offered. This is tricky, as it can easily result in the informal logical fallacy of "appeal to authority," where one argues that something is so because a person of authority in that field says it is so. This trades hearsay for reason. However, if you have made a sound argument, then letting your audience know by what authority you speak can help. Obviously, if you are an expert in the field, you can cite your credentials, but I say this should be backed up by an accounting for why you deserve the credentials. What if you don't have credentials? I am a musician and poet, but I frequently discuss and deal with "politics" and world affairs (I enquote politics because what I view what I deal with as human nature and the fundamentals of liberty; "politics" is a cancer that leaches off liberty, so I must contend with it), so what right have to speak on them? I read a good deal on the issues, and I constantly exercise my reasoning to gain a better understanding of the matter. My favorite way of dealing with doubters is to refer them to a book or article, not out of an "appeal to authority," but because it a.) shows that I am not a lone crackpot, that there are others saying these things, and b.) allows the doubting Thomas to read for himself where I get my ideas; it invites the audience to explore the issue themselves.
Then there is the concern for ethics. Much of the ethical argument, for me, is contained in the logical (in this case, it is unethical to transgress against property rights). What can really be done here is make the logical argument active, to apply it to real world situations and to appeal the listener's character and ethics. Slavery is against practically everyone's moral code, so here I would show how slavery is alive and well, only transfigured. I would should how a world built on my logical can coexist with my auditor's ethics and morals. And so. As can be seen, the three modes, though can be made distinct, frequently flow in and out of each other.
Pathos
This is the last tier of persuasion. If only it were so in life. In my short time on this planet so far, I would say that have observed quite deeply, and one thing I notice with great force is that there are three types of people who start their arguments with pathos and make it the central facet: 1.) those who have spoken with logic and ethic elsewhere and whose past arguments link up with the current one, and therefore can lend strength and credibility to it; 2.) the well-intending, good-hearted people who fail to see the logical and even ethical flaws in their case; 3.) nefarious types, like politicians, ("think of the children!") who disregard logic and ethic (they don't care about them, don't know them, or both) and play and manipulate people's emotions, frequently with fear. I immediately become very wary when someone tries to appeal to my emotions (particularly if the person is a charismatic), because the first type I listed is a rare exception, the second type, no matter how kind or nice, has an emptiness in their logic that could spell disaster if their ideas are implemented, and the third type is especially to be denounced. I swore some time ago to refuse to just let someone to power over me, and one way people do this is through controlling emotions. I allow someone to influence me if they make sound logical and/or ethical arguments, but appeals to my emotions without either of those will only harden me. I find that much of the world's problems these days stem from unchecked kindness, kindness that turns people practically into tyrants. "We must feed the starving" people say out of the goodness of their hearts, but then support and enforce policies whose unintended consequences result in more and worse misery. "Think of the children" a politician says, and then passes legislation that makes the child's, and everyone's, situation more terrible.
However, an appeal to emotions, and even fear, is essential to really clutching many people. Fear is good when it is based on solid reasoning. For example, there is much to fear about the economy these days, and people need to be made aware of it. But fear unsupported thus, particularly when peddled by the government, causes anger, hatred, hysteria, and the dissolution of intelligence, wisdom, ethics, and kindness. So, for an example, I would put my audience in the place of a person under the chains of my idea of slavery, and vividly tell them how I would feel, and how I think they would feel.
After all this, I would clinch my argument with a return to the logic, but this time I would likely put it in the warmer light of pathos. I don't think it is vital for an argument to have pathos, not in the way it is to have the first two modes, but it goes a long way in persuasion.
For myself, this is how I have to make my cases, because I would feel like a cheat, a swindler otherwise. I do care, very much, about the poor and downtrodden. But I can't let my emotions cloud what I know to be true, which is that the policies in place today to supposedly help them only makes things worse. When I argue from a purely logical standpoint, it is backed up very much with a passion for humanity and its betterment.
Aristotle laid out three modes of persuasion in his Rhetoric: ethos, pathos, and logos. Ethos is an "appeal to the authority or honesty of the speaker," and we derive the word "ethics" from it. Pathos "is an appeal to the audience’s emotions," from which we get "pathetic" (as well as a direct cognate). And logos "is logical appeal or the simulation of it," from which we get "logic." This is supposedly the order they were placed in Aristotle's book, but I do not think it is a good order at all. I say this, because I think one should find a way to employ at least two of these in an argument, but it is much better if all three are present. This covers the bases, so to speak, and makes an attempt for persuasion much more likely to succeed. As such, I place a hierarchy on the importance and order in which these three elements are introduced, and it is this: logos, ethos, pathos.
Logos
I am already touching upon what I think makes me seem cold. Practically all arguments I make start with reasoning, facts, data, theory, etc. Frequently, these are dispassionate (despite my passionate delivery of them), seemingly unkind, and possibly cruel. This is because I try to reach bedrock truth, where objectivity is supreme. My ability to objective is both a strength and a weakness. It allows me to be constantly levelheaded about things, but it frequently inhibits my ability to "be in the moment." One of my foundational principles is that the first, last, and most important piece of property you will ever own is your own person, the body, the mind, and the soul of it. Some can follow and see my point, but many frequently seize up at the hearing people referred to as "property" because of the history of slavery. I can understand this, but they forget the number one law of property rights: no one may take it, alter it, or destroy it, without the owner's permission. This should effectively eliminate concerns about slavery, since forcing one to work against one's will and without permission violates their property rights to their own person. Another principle of mine is that the only real rights you have in this world are all property rights. Life is a condition of owning your own body, so that is part and parcel; liberty, the freedom to do what one wants as long as it does not transgress against another's rights, is also subsumed under this, since another stipulation of property rights is the freedom of the owner to do with it as he pleases, whether it is improvement or destruction, and to achieve this, he must act to achieve the tools and supplies needed, and this requires a free but respectful interaction with others (in almost all cases). The third right we are familiar with, "the pursuit of happiness," is actually different from what was originally third, which was "property," but "the pursuit of happiness," in my book, has stock in life and liberty. Following this, the many rights bandied about these days are illegitimate. The right to water, food, shelter, an education, etc, are nice things to say, but fall flat in the face of reasoning (particularly my brand of "Terminal Extent Reasoning"). If I have the right to food, then it follows that I am entitled to it, that no matter what, I am bound by some law to own food, and any lack of ownership is a transgression against my right. If this is so, then food may be taken from another to achieve this end. This already flies in the face of property rights, but let's continue. Now, this person whose food stores are being emptied by the entitled must now go out and obtain more food so he can have some for himself. He must either produce it himself or work harder to earn money to purchase more. In effect, he is forced to labor so that part of his wealth may be turned over to others, which is slavery, the most contemptible form of disrespect for property rights. Entitlement leads to moral hazard, which is when people act in ways they wouldn't otherwise because risk has been artificially lowered, and this leads further to the inability to appreciate a thing's true worth, for if one can have something no matter what, they will value less.
"But what about the homeless" or the "poor" or the "starving?" This leads to pathos, which I will deal with later. Many people cannot get beyond the supposed heartlessness of the argument, and therefore think it is invalid. Yet, the central idea of this argument, that "no one owes you anything" (and therefore you owe no one else anything), is what instills self-reliance and responsibility where it should matter first: with yourself. They also overlook that another aspect of property rights is the freedom to give it away at whatever cost the owner deems appropriate, and this includes freely, what we otherwise call charity. People in more ancient times may have lacked the kindness we pride ourselves on these days, but they are no reason to think that people now are uncharitable. Indeed, as wealth increases for everyone, so does charitibility. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Ethos
It is hoped that the soundness of logic will instill a sense of authority in the speaker, but if not, then authority must be offered. This is tricky, as it can easily result in the informal logical fallacy of "appeal to authority," where one argues that something is so because a person of authority in that field says it is so. This trades hearsay for reason. However, if you have made a sound argument, then letting your audience know by what authority you speak can help. Obviously, if you are an expert in the field, you can cite your credentials, but I say this should be backed up by an accounting for why you deserve the credentials. What if you don't have credentials? I am a musician and poet, but I frequently discuss and deal with "politics" and world affairs (I enquote politics because what I view what I deal with as human nature and the fundamentals of liberty; "politics" is a cancer that leaches off liberty, so I must contend with it), so what right have to speak on them? I read a good deal on the issues, and I constantly exercise my reasoning to gain a better understanding of the matter. My favorite way of dealing with doubters is to refer them to a book or article, not out of an "appeal to authority," but because it a.) shows that I am not a lone crackpot, that there are others saying these things, and b.) allows the doubting Thomas to read for himself where I get my ideas; it invites the audience to explore the issue themselves.
Then there is the concern for ethics. Much of the ethical argument, for me, is contained in the logical (in this case, it is unethical to transgress against property rights). What can really be done here is make the logical argument active, to apply it to real world situations and to appeal the listener's character and ethics. Slavery is against practically everyone's moral code, so here I would show how slavery is alive and well, only transfigured. I would should how a world built on my logical can coexist with my auditor's ethics and morals. And so. As can be seen, the three modes, though can be made distinct, frequently flow in and out of each other.
Pathos
This is the last tier of persuasion. If only it were so in life. In my short time on this planet so far, I would say that have observed quite deeply, and one thing I notice with great force is that there are three types of people who start their arguments with pathos and make it the central facet: 1.) those who have spoken with logic and ethic elsewhere and whose past arguments link up with the current one, and therefore can lend strength and credibility to it; 2.) the well-intending, good-hearted people who fail to see the logical and even ethical flaws in their case; 3.) nefarious types, like politicians, ("think of the children!") who disregard logic and ethic (they don't care about them, don't know them, or both) and play and manipulate people's emotions, frequently with fear. I immediately become very wary when someone tries to appeal to my emotions (particularly if the person is a charismatic), because the first type I listed is a rare exception, the second type, no matter how kind or nice, has an emptiness in their logic that could spell disaster if their ideas are implemented, and the third type is especially to be denounced. I swore some time ago to refuse to just let someone to power over me, and one way people do this is through controlling emotions. I allow someone to influence me if they make sound logical and/or ethical arguments, but appeals to my emotions without either of those will only harden me. I find that much of the world's problems these days stem from unchecked kindness, kindness that turns people practically into tyrants. "We must feed the starving" people say out of the goodness of their hearts, but then support and enforce policies whose unintended consequences result in more and worse misery. "Think of the children" a politician says, and then passes legislation that makes the child's, and everyone's, situation more terrible.
However, an appeal to emotions, and even fear, is essential to really clutching many people. Fear is good when it is based on solid reasoning. For example, there is much to fear about the economy these days, and people need to be made aware of it. But fear unsupported thus, particularly when peddled by the government, causes anger, hatred, hysteria, and the dissolution of intelligence, wisdom, ethics, and kindness. So, for an example, I would put my audience in the place of a person under the chains of my idea of slavery, and vividly tell them how I would feel, and how I think they would feel.
After all this, I would clinch my argument with a return to the logic, but this time I would likely put it in the warmer light of pathos. I don't think it is vital for an argument to have pathos, not in the way it is to have the first two modes, but it goes a long way in persuasion.
For myself, this is how I have to make my cases, because I would feel like a cheat, a swindler otherwise. I do care, very much, about the poor and downtrodden. But I can't let my emotions cloud what I know to be true, which is that the policies in place today to supposedly help them only makes things worse. When I argue from a purely logical standpoint, it is backed up very much with a passion for humanity and its betterment.
Monday, May 16, 2011
English Has No Future (Tense)
One learns much from action. As a composer, I am a staunch believer that composing goes hand in hand with a firm comprehension of music theory. It simply is not enough to read about harmony, rhythm, melody, and timbre; these things must be meddled with and heard. Same with poetry, prose, on and on: application is the seal of inculcation.
What about language? I'm not talking about any specific language, like Finnish or some bushman clicking language, but language itself, linguistics. Like music, should one compose in language to grasp linguistic theory?
At the start of this year, I began creating my own language as a hobby. Knowing verbs were perhaps the most essential aspect of language, I went to work there first. I laid out some rules and what not, dealt with time, how to conjugate. Then came time to deal with the subjunctive mood, which I wanted to make essential. I was using my Wheelock's Latin book as resource to help me deal with this in an orderly fashion. However, the book said that there were some subjunctive constructions it didn't deal with. Intrigued, I googled the subjunctive mood. What I discovered revealed my immense naivete in dealing with this.
At the start of this year, I began creating my own language as a hobby. Knowing verbs were perhaps the most essential aspect of language, I went to work there first. I laid out some rules and what not, dealt with time, how to conjugate. Then came time to deal with the subjunctive mood, which I wanted to make essential. I was using my Wheelock's Latin book as resource to help me deal with this in an orderly fashion. However, the book said that there were some subjunctive constructions it didn't deal with. Intrigued, I googled the subjunctive mood. What I discovered revealed my immense naivete in dealing with this.
Basically, the way we are taught language in school is incredibly basic. I am so overwhelmed with all that linguistics involves that I can't even begin to list the things I learned. Perhaps I'll start with the title of this post. In the everyday use and sense of language, there is of course a future "tense" in English. However, technically speaking, for there to be a tense, the verb itself has to be modified (conjugated) to indicate temporality. English has no future conjugation of verbs in the way, say, Latin does (for first and second conjugation verbs, you add "-bi-" to indicate the future). Our language has two ways that I know of to indicate the future. The modals "will" and "shall" are used. There is a particular charm to this. With a verb in future tense, the action is taking place in the future, but with English modals, there is promise for the action to occur. Another way is through adverbs. If take a present tense word, like "run," and combine it with a future time, like "tomorrow," I have stated a future occurrence ("I run tomorrow.") There are many ways to do this.
a, [æ] "trap" á, [a] "aisle" à, [ɑ] "awe"
e, [ɛ] "bet" é, [e] "baiser" (French) ee, [i] "peach"
i, [ɪ] "hit"
o, [o] "Oh!" oo, [u] "who"
u, [œ] "but" ú, [ʊ] "book" ü, [y] "tschüß" (German)
ae, [aɪ] "right" au, [a͜ʊ] "now"
öe, [ø͜ɪ] no equivalents oe, [ɔ͜ɪ] "boy"
aeú, [aɪʊ], "fire"
üáú, [y͜aʊ] no equivalents
b, j, r (rolled), g, ph (aspirate "p") c (English "ch"), d, k, v, y, tH (hard "th"), z, t, zh (as in "garage"), th, m, ts, ny, w, s, n, kh (German "ch"), hw, sh, l, h
All in all, some 44 different sounds. I worked it out so that each sound had some meaning/purpose, mostly to help me construct the language.
Some other tidbits: there seems to be 168 different ways to conjugate a verb (so many moods). Tense and aspect (tense answers "time when," aspect answers "time how") are indicated through affixes appended to nouns and pronouns. Prepositions are dependent upon case and placement of prepositions. Now for some words:
hwábüáú: "to be"
tsübüáú: "to have"
voebüáú: "to call, call for"
oohoe: "name"
gá: "time"
I'll be blogging more about this as I progress.
Now for a thing of beauty:
Walther's "Prize Song" from Richard Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg, one of my favorite operas. Walther, wanting to marry Elizabeth, has to win the Mastersinger's competition. Working with Hans Sachs, perhaps the greatest Mastersinger, he works out his revolutionary song while still attempting to use the best of tradition.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
I'm a Poet, and I Understand It
My audacity knows no bounds. In addition to having the gall to compose music, I also have the nerve to write poetry. I would love to explicate my passion for Words-as-Music, but it's late, and I'm just using this post as an excuse to post a few poems, one of which I just finished writing. Enjoy!
Plea
Send down your Light and Truth to free me,
From the Reign of Darkness your Light unchain me!
It does not matter if it is Night
For a Darkness covers the land,
Cast over by the Shadow of Death:
It causes a trembling in my hand.
The People have made the Tomb Mount Zion;
The Empire Masses make the Nether Angel King!
At his Election ring the Bells of Shells
And shrieking Missiles his Glory sing.
Death has taken our Sons
And makes them serve in tanks;
The King has taken our Fields
And causes them to grow rank.
The People's Elect has made them slave
To the Sword their Savior and their Grace the Grave.
But I seek Life,
And in Life I seek Liberty,
And in Liberty I seek Peace.
O sweet Peace, beam down upon us
From the Lord my Light.
In gaining Peace I will know Freedom
From the Lord my Light,
And by having Freedom I will have Life,
From the Lord my Light.
Transfigure me into Liberty,
O Lord of Light!
Bathe me in your freest Brilliance
And I will radiate your Praises
All the Days of my Endless Life.
Bald prangt, den Morgen zu verkündenVindicate me, O God! Liberate me, O Lord!
der Sonn auf goldner Bahn,
bald soll der Aberglaube schwinden,
bald siegt der weise Mann.
O holde Ruhe, steig hernieder
kehr in der Menschen Herzen wieder,
dann ist die Erd ein Himmelreich,
und Sterbliche sind Göttern gleich.
-The Magic Flute
Send down your Light and Truth to free me,
From the Reign of Darkness your Light unchain me!
It does not matter if it is Night
For a Darkness covers the land,
Cast over by the Shadow of Death:
It causes a trembling in my hand.
The People have made the Tomb Mount Zion;
The Empire Masses make the Nether Angel King!
At his Election ring the Bells of Shells
And shrieking Missiles his Glory sing.
Death has taken our Sons
And makes them serve in tanks;
The King has taken our Fields
And causes them to grow rank.
The People's Elect has made them slave
To the Sword their Savior and their Grace the Grave.
But I seek Life,
And in Life I seek Liberty,
And in Liberty I seek Peace.
O sweet Peace, beam down upon us
From the Lord my Light.
In gaining Peace I will know Freedom
From the Lord my Light,
And by having Freedom I will have Life,
From the Lord my Light.
Transfigure me into Liberty,
O Lord of Light!
Bathe me in your freest Brilliance
And I will radiate your Praises
All the Days of my Endless Life.
Ideated Light
It shall not be that the shine, the shimmer
Of ideated light,
Which in this world of night
Is Liberation, a gleam or glimmer
That, for a soul entrenched now and ever
Against forces of force,
Charges in like a horse
To save oneself from a doomed endeavour;
It shall not be that this sheen, this shining
Shall ever disappear,
Nor shall it ever near
That dusk when solar light's declining.
That light is but light, a sensation of sight;
But this light is sensation encapsulated,
Compacted into essence by the spark divine,
So that this true light from that light
May be felt and extrapolated
By my soul unto your soul, and yours unto mine.
And thus a relay is made; wherever
This light can be perceived,
It soon shall be received
And enchained freedom be severed never
From the bonds of our wills forever and forever.
"No man has fed himself"
No man has fed himself: his fruit can not be his fruit;
What he had turned out to only turn in
Diminished him (by the Law of Diminishing Returns),
For it is said that too many cooks spoiled the broth.
How much worse for the digestion, then,
When the cook and broth are of the same pot?
How much can one eat the returns of turnouts
Before one's self-stomach turns, and gut churns?
How can a man can his self and then believe
Cannibalizing it causes this self to thrive?
Modern man out-gorges the man-eater,
For of the latter there are few,
and for them, food yet fewer;
But of the former, there are many,
and for them, food just as much;
He sustains himself on the celery of his garden
But his plot ferments itself
And grows rank with weeds.
Yet, the man-eater eats the meat of other tables
And his table, not just in size
But in strength as well, so grows
That when others come to feast
The allotment has increased.
Follow this strand, then!
You are not a Wheel-within-a-Wheel,
A divine perpetual motion machine;
That your desire to be such
Can not make you such:
Though there is much within,
There is more without.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
A Decade of Music, Part 3b
I applied to only three colleges. They were, in order of desire to go, Yale, Roosevelt University (in Chicago), and Webster University. Unsurprisingly, I was not accepted at Yale; I had applied early and was wait-listed, which was a little comforting, but no luck. I was accepted by the latter two. Roosevelt was a particular draw because it was right in the midst of downtown Chicago, and it seemed to have an excellent program. However, it was very expensive, and they only offered me a $30,000/year loan. There was no way I was going to owe that much debt for any degree, let alone a composition degree. So I must admit that the school I just graduated from was the third (and therefore, last) choice for me. They offered a very decent financial aid package, and I took it.
My audition pieces were Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 3 in C major, Op. 2, No. 3, first movement, and Prelude and Fugue in D major from The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I for piano. For composition, I used three pieces: "The Inspired Rag," for piano, "Annabel Lee," a song using Edgar Allan Poe's poem, and a string quartet. I think they were well received for what they are: quality juvenalia.
I was in choir all throughout college, and for the first two years we had a director who was also a composer. Learning that I was a composer, he asked me to write a piece for the choir to sing for an American music concert in my second semester. Astonished at how quickly I was getting into things, I agreed, and set Shakespeare's Sonnet 55, "Not marble, nor the guilded monuments." I think it is still a decent piece, and I pushed myself to use harmonies more daring for myself, even if they are a bit commonplace these days. Another venue for my works was the New Music Ensemble; I was in it for four semesters throughout college, and such things performed as two Poe songs, an adaptation of the chorale "Es ist genug," and a rock-inspired piece, among others. A violinist asked me, in my second semester again, to work with her on the second movement from Charles Ives' Violin Sonata No. 2, the movement titled "In the barn." It was one of the most difficult pieces I have ever learned, but I loved it, and still do.
Skipping over a somewhat uninteresting sophomore year in composition, my junior year contained an opportunity that was just what I was looking for. I had long decided that I wanted to write for the stage, hopefully in both the opera and musical realms. The head of composition at Webster, Kim Portnoy, was asked by a director from the theatre Conservatory, Jef Awada, if he had a student who would want to write music for the play he was to direct, Cloud 9; Kim thought of me, and I agreed without first looking over the play. I was taken aback initially by the very, very bizarre content and the mediocre lyric writing (there was one song, at the beginning, which introduced the characters in the style of a British march), but I persevered and wrote a bunch of incidental music. The music had to be recorded, and arranging that was a nightmare, but it was done. It all came together and worked wonderfully, I received good praise from several people, including my boss in the music office, Jean, and her boss, the Chair of the Department of Music, Dr. Carter.
Following the composition program layout, I also began having composition lessons with Bob Chamberlin. I don't know a kinder man, and he is very intelligent indeed. His approach, with me at least, was quite laid back. Sometimes I wish he was a bit more commanding, having me do composition exercises or the such, but I think he recognized that I was my own slavedriver and harshest critic, so that, frequently in front of him, I would see a problem and simultaneously work out a solution; even when I was a bit too busy with other school work to compose as much as I wished or should have, he let me run my own show. (Besides, I had two required composition classes which had frequent assignments, and I chaffed under them.)
I had another opportunity to write incidental music for a Conservatory show my senior year, The Wonderful World of Dissocia (I seem to be led into the weird shows), directed a by senior directing major who was assistant director for Cloud 9. Unlike my first foray, I was ahead of the schedule with Dissocia, and this show required me to write music only for four or five songs. One of the songs, "What's an hour?," actually turned into something I very much like. In the semester before this show, Dr. Carter asked me to write the music for the Webster University Christmas E-Card (I guess "Holiday" card, in the spirit of international-ness). I accepted, and working with the person in charge of creating it, I arranged the famous Shaker tune "Simple Gifts," for a "world music ensemble," per the request of the university president; I used piano, jingle bells, glockenspiel, maracas, congo drums, and maybe something else. Time restraints forced me to use an electronic version, but it was very decent, and because I had to fit the music to certain time (which was constantly changing) I had to learn to write in such a manner. The whole thing turned out beautifully.
My big project in my senior year was my one and only composition recital. It caused me much grief before any joy was to be seen. Hoping that I could get it out of the way in the fall semester, I had planned to have it in late November. November arrived, it was nowhere near ready, and I pushed it back to March. The main problem was getting together a chamber orchestra to perform my big piece, incidental music to Shakespeare's As You Like It, which featured an overture and four songs. That was an organizational nightmare, but I managed to scrap together to a group, even if the full ensemble couldn't be there until recital (I had barely a quorum for the rehearsals). In addition to this, I had three art songs, all performed wonderfully by friends, and a Dectet, which was a theme and variations on the tune "Awake, My Soul." All in all, a successful night.
And now I have graduated. Where do I go from here? In April, I submitted my first great orchestra piece, "Triptych Dance," to a contest, and I will here the results sometime this summer. Other than that, I don't have specific prospects yet. Some projects I have going on that moment: a piano quintet, a song or two, the beginnings of an opera based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem Evangeline, and a symphonic tone poem inspired by the painting "Sadak and the Waters of Oblivion," by John Martin.
Some possible commissions include a fleeting request from the Director of the Webster University Choirs to send some choir work his way; another request in passing from a friend to write music for a guitar or a guitar ensemble he hopes to put together over the summer; and, in the same vein, I mentioned to another friend, who wants to set up a piano trio, that I would like to write something for them. We'll see how things turn out.
My audition pieces were Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 3 in C major, Op. 2, No. 3, first movement, and Prelude and Fugue in D major from The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I for piano. For composition, I used three pieces: "The Inspired Rag," for piano, "Annabel Lee," a song using Edgar Allan Poe's poem, and a string quartet. I think they were well received for what they are: quality juvenalia.
I was in choir all throughout college, and for the first two years we had a director who was also a composer. Learning that I was a composer, he asked me to write a piece for the choir to sing for an American music concert in my second semester. Astonished at how quickly I was getting into things, I agreed, and set Shakespeare's Sonnet 55, "Not marble, nor the guilded monuments." I think it is still a decent piece, and I pushed myself to use harmonies more daring for myself, even if they are a bit commonplace these days. Another venue for my works was the New Music Ensemble; I was in it for four semesters throughout college, and such things performed as two Poe songs, an adaptation of the chorale "Es ist genug," and a rock-inspired piece, among others. A violinist asked me, in my second semester again, to work with her on the second movement from Charles Ives' Violin Sonata No. 2, the movement titled "In the barn." It was one of the most difficult pieces I have ever learned, but I loved it, and still do.
Skipping over a somewhat uninteresting sophomore year in composition, my junior year contained an opportunity that was just what I was looking for. I had long decided that I wanted to write for the stage, hopefully in both the opera and musical realms. The head of composition at Webster, Kim Portnoy, was asked by a director from the theatre Conservatory, Jef Awada, if he had a student who would want to write music for the play he was to direct, Cloud 9; Kim thought of me, and I agreed without first looking over the play. I was taken aback initially by the very, very bizarre content and the mediocre lyric writing (there was one song, at the beginning, which introduced the characters in the style of a British march), but I persevered and wrote a bunch of incidental music. The music had to be recorded, and arranging that was a nightmare, but it was done. It all came together and worked wonderfully, I received good praise from several people, including my boss in the music office, Jean, and her boss, the Chair of the Department of Music, Dr. Carter.
Following the composition program layout, I also began having composition lessons with Bob Chamberlin. I don't know a kinder man, and he is very intelligent indeed. His approach, with me at least, was quite laid back. Sometimes I wish he was a bit more commanding, having me do composition exercises or the such, but I think he recognized that I was my own slavedriver and harshest critic, so that, frequently in front of him, I would see a problem and simultaneously work out a solution; even when I was a bit too busy with other school work to compose as much as I wished or should have, he let me run my own show. (Besides, I had two required composition classes which had frequent assignments, and I chaffed under them.)
I had another opportunity to write incidental music for a Conservatory show my senior year, The Wonderful World of Dissocia (I seem to be led into the weird shows), directed a by senior directing major who was assistant director for Cloud 9. Unlike my first foray, I was ahead of the schedule with Dissocia, and this show required me to write music only for four or five songs. One of the songs, "What's an hour?," actually turned into something I very much like. In the semester before this show, Dr. Carter asked me to write the music for the Webster University Christmas E-Card (I guess "Holiday" card, in the spirit of international-ness). I accepted, and working with the person in charge of creating it, I arranged the famous Shaker tune "Simple Gifts," for a "world music ensemble," per the request of the university president; I used piano, jingle bells, glockenspiel, maracas, congo drums, and maybe something else. Time restraints forced me to use an electronic version, but it was very decent, and because I had to fit the music to certain time (which was constantly changing) I had to learn to write in such a manner. The whole thing turned out beautifully.
My big project in my senior year was my one and only composition recital. It caused me much grief before any joy was to be seen. Hoping that I could get it out of the way in the fall semester, I had planned to have it in late November. November arrived, it was nowhere near ready, and I pushed it back to March. The main problem was getting together a chamber orchestra to perform my big piece, incidental music to Shakespeare's As You Like It, which featured an overture and four songs. That was an organizational nightmare, but I managed to scrap together to a group, even if the full ensemble couldn't be there until recital (I had barely a quorum for the rehearsals). In addition to this, I had three art songs, all performed wonderfully by friends, and a Dectet, which was a theme and variations on the tune "Awake, My Soul." All in all, a successful night.
And now I have graduated. Where do I go from here? In April, I submitted my first great orchestra piece, "Triptych Dance," to a contest, and I will here the results sometime this summer. Other than that, I don't have specific prospects yet. Some projects I have going on that moment: a piano quintet, a song or two, the beginnings of an opera based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem Evangeline, and a symphonic tone poem inspired by the painting "Sadak and the Waters of Oblivion," by John Martin.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)