The below video is an excellent introduction to what is both proper and improper regarding music for the Catholic liturgy. Rather than delve into "new-age" vs. "traditionalist" approaches, it illustrates the Church's aesthetic guidance while showing the way to new yet relevant musical expressions. At only a few minutes in length, it is a valuable introduction to a quality Catholica aesthetic.
Showing posts with label bad music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad music. Show all posts
Monday, May 17, 2010
Thursday, July 3, 2008
What's Wrong with America, Fireworks Style.
It took fireworks and the fourth of July to remind me what is wrong with America.
I believe firmly that the problems in any society reveal themselves gradually, rearing their ugly heads in unexpected places.
Every year I look forward to watching the Independence Day fireworks in Chicago, whether in person or on television. Accompanied by the Grant Park Orchestra, the fireworks are a well-coordinated multimedia work of art, not to mention a great statement of Patriotism.
Despite our many problems, concerns, and divisions, America is still something to celebrate.
Why then, instead of the Grant Park Orchestra playing patriotic music, were television viewers instead treated to snippets of shallow top-40 fare?
Instead of America the Beautiful, I heard Gwen Stefani. Instead of the triumphant strains of the 1812 overture (patriotic even if it WAS written by a Russian composer), I heard Kanye West. Instead of the traditional fireworks closer of the Stars and Stripes Forever, poor Mr. Sousa was replaced with Matchbox 20. Not only that, but the Matchbox 20 song was quite literally about the collapse of the world.
Yup. Nothing like some apocalyptic Emo music to ring in the fourth of July festivities.
If you're not bothered, you're not listening. Do we do away with tradition -- as well as the meaning of our greatest national holiday -- to raise ratings?
If Kanye West raises ratings INSTEAD of Sousa on the fourth of July, then what is wrong with America? Have we really become so shallow and stupid? (I will not even address what such thinking says about our national musical intelligence.)
In the end, the Matchbox 20 lyrics were right. "How far have we come?" Do we really care enough about America to actually clap along to the Stars and Stripes, let alone to work to fix her problems in such crucial times?
Let's hope this is the first and last time such a thing occurs. Tomorrow, I'm writing letters to all of the local newspapers. If you want to play pop music, at least play patriotic pop music. Save the party tunes for New Years Eve.
I believe firmly that the problems in any society reveal themselves gradually, rearing their ugly heads in unexpected places.
Every year I look forward to watching the Independence Day fireworks in Chicago, whether in person or on television. Accompanied by the Grant Park Orchestra, the fireworks are a well-coordinated multimedia work of art, not to mention a great statement of Patriotism.
Despite our many problems, concerns, and divisions, America is still something to celebrate.
Why then, instead of the Grant Park Orchestra playing patriotic music, were television viewers instead treated to snippets of shallow top-40 fare?
Instead of America the Beautiful, I heard Gwen Stefani. Instead of the triumphant strains of the 1812 overture (patriotic even if it WAS written by a Russian composer), I heard Kanye West. Instead of the traditional fireworks closer of the Stars and Stripes Forever, poor Mr. Sousa was replaced with Matchbox 20. Not only that, but the Matchbox 20 song was quite literally about the collapse of the world.
Yup. Nothing like some apocalyptic Emo music to ring in the fourth of July festivities.
If you're not bothered, you're not listening. Do we do away with tradition -- as well as the meaning of our greatest national holiday -- to raise ratings?
If Kanye West raises ratings INSTEAD of Sousa on the fourth of July, then what is wrong with America? Have we really become so shallow and stupid? (I will not even address what such thinking says about our national musical intelligence.)
In the end, the Matchbox 20 lyrics were right. "How far have we come?" Do we really care enough about America to actually clap along to the Stars and Stripes, let alone to work to fix her problems in such crucial times?
Let's hope this is the first and last time such a thing occurs. Tomorrow, I'm writing letters to all of the local newspapers. If you want to play pop music, at least play patriotic pop music. Save the party tunes for New Years Eve.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Learning to Color: Stumbling Across Orchestration
The fifth grade was not kind to my artistic soul. I remember when we were given the assignment of coloring-in the outline of a large maple leaf. Unsatisfied with the results of my project, I grabbed a handful of gold and silver crayons and began to add highlights to my red and green leaf. My fifth grade teacher bounded up to me in a huff and accused me of scribbling. Little did I know it, but the little creative person inside of me had just received his first challenge. Normally quiet, I argued my point. I was not able to express it at the time, but I was seeking the realistic gleam of a leaf after it had begun to dry.
Not buying my poorly given argument, my fifth grade teacher made me stand in front of the first-grade art class, to learn how "good children" do their art projects. I've been obsessed with color ever since...
***
There was a time where I was silenced at the sight of a blank Orchestral score. It was simply too much to deal with, and my brain couldn't wrap itself around such a behemoth of color, sound, and passion. The ideas fizzled, and I was left standing in humble silence.
To this day, few compliments please me more than being told that I have orchestrated something well. As I approached the end of my Masters studies in composition, I was still handicapped by the large ensemble. This meant that I was essentially incapable of writing the orchestra piece that I needed to write in order to graduate.
Certainly I could have written a bad piece, but I promised myself long ago that I would never kow-tow to academic requirements in a way which sacrificed creative quality. Never.
Part of fearing the Orchestra and Wind Ensemble was fearing what monstrosity might come about as a result of my bringing my ideas into such a huge creative space. Inside of my head there were great colors, shapes, and swirls of energy brewing, but I was unable to open the door to fully access these ideas.
It was digital audio editing that changed that. I began to compose a piece called "Blood, Forgotten," for solo Violin and multimedia. The multimedia portion consisted of a video element, and a massive and continually evolving sound-world derived almost entirely from the sound of a single violin.
In the process of shaping and layering the hundreds of sounds clips which eventually became the full eleven minutes of "Blood, Forgotten," I ended up with something resembling -- but greatly outdetailing -- a classical orchestral score.
As I put the finishing touches on "Blood, Forgotten," I began to compose the Orchestral version of the piece. Still mired in trepidation, I was shocked to find that the floodgates had burst, and I was dancing joyfull on the the 11X17 field.
In the end, the orchestra piece was mediocre at best. The significance of the situation, however, is that working the digital medium helped me make the leap into writing for large ensembles.
Working with a digital-audio editor, you begin with recording sounds and manipulating them into new sounds. You work in a top-down-left-to-right approach as in an orchestral score. You are concerned with pitch, balance, color, layering, and progression.
Sound familiar? Such are the concerns which we encounter in any piece, with the concerns being multiplied to extreme levels with large ensembles.
Some might suggest that I was simply suffering from a lack of familiarity in the Orchestral Repetoire. In my case, this is untrue, as I had been ingesting large amounts of music for many years. I had done my score studies, made numerous sketches. I just couldn't ever get past the first idea in a large-ensemble setting.
The problem was comfort: I could not synthesize all of the necessary elements without being overly critical about myself as a composer, or being worried of the potential train-wreck which might result from such efforts.
The digital realm allowed me to experiment endlessly, with instantaneous results available. It helped build the confidence my inner-ear needed, and allowed the necessary mental-dancing to develop over ever-larger soundscapes. Soon I was thriving, and the transition was not a difficult one to make.
I wonder if any other young composers have had similar experiences. Perhaps one day, I will be afforded the opportunity teach a course dealing with such subject-matter. Orchestration is an art that one can continually improve upon. I'm just glad that I accidentally stumbled across the way to my own ability in this realm, and hope to help others do the same in the future.
Not buying my poorly given argument, my fifth grade teacher made me stand in front of the first-grade art class, to learn how "good children" do their art projects. I've been obsessed with color ever since...
***
There was a time where I was silenced at the sight of a blank Orchestral score. It was simply too much to deal with, and my brain couldn't wrap itself around such a behemoth of color, sound, and passion. The ideas fizzled, and I was left standing in humble silence.
To this day, few compliments please me more than being told that I have orchestrated something well. As I approached the end of my Masters studies in composition, I was still handicapped by the large ensemble. This meant that I was essentially incapable of writing the orchestra piece that I needed to write in order to graduate.
Certainly I could have written a bad piece, but I promised myself long ago that I would never kow-tow to academic requirements in a way which sacrificed creative quality. Never.
Part of fearing the Orchestra and Wind Ensemble was fearing what monstrosity might come about as a result of my bringing my ideas into such a huge creative space. Inside of my head there were great colors, shapes, and swirls of energy brewing, but I was unable to open the door to fully access these ideas.
It was digital audio editing that changed that. I began to compose a piece called "Blood, Forgotten," for solo Violin and multimedia. The multimedia portion consisted of a video element, and a massive and continually evolving sound-world derived almost entirely from the sound of a single violin.
In the process of shaping and layering the hundreds of sounds clips which eventually became the full eleven minutes of "Blood, Forgotten," I ended up with something resembling -- but greatly outdetailing -- a classical orchestral score.
As I put the finishing touches on "Blood, Forgotten," I began to compose the Orchestral version of the piece. Still mired in trepidation, I was shocked to find that the floodgates had burst, and I was dancing joyfull on the the 11X17 field.
In the end, the orchestra piece was mediocre at best. The significance of the situation, however, is that working the digital medium helped me make the leap into writing for large ensembles.
Working with a digital-audio editor, you begin with recording sounds and manipulating them into new sounds. You work in a top-down-left-to-right approach as in an orchestral score. You are concerned with pitch, balance, color, layering, and progression.
Sound familiar? Such are the concerns which we encounter in any piece, with the concerns being multiplied to extreme levels with large ensembles.
Some might suggest that I was simply suffering from a lack of familiarity in the Orchestral Repetoire. In my case, this is untrue, as I had been ingesting large amounts of music for many years. I had done my score studies, made numerous sketches. I just couldn't ever get past the first idea in a large-ensemble setting.
The problem was comfort: I could not synthesize all of the necessary elements without being overly critical about myself as a composer, or being worried of the potential train-wreck which might result from such efforts.
The digital realm allowed me to experiment endlessly, with instantaneous results available. It helped build the confidence my inner-ear needed, and allowed the necessary mental-dancing to develop over ever-larger soundscapes. Soon I was thriving, and the transition was not a difficult one to make.
I wonder if any other young composers have had similar experiences. Perhaps one day, I will be afforded the opportunity teach a course dealing with such subject-matter. Orchestration is an art that one can continually improve upon. I'm just glad that I accidentally stumbled across the way to my own ability in this realm, and hope to help others do the same in the future.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
