Announcer: And now, Schickele Mix. Ready, Mr. Schickele?
As James Joyce wrote in his now-classic book, Ulysses, "Yes." Here's the theme.
[theme: Mozart, Symphony No. 24]
Hello there, I'm Peter Schickele, and this is Schickele Mix, a program dedicated to the proposition that all musics are created equal, or as Duke Ellington put it, if it sounds good, it is good. Our bills, I'm happy and grateful to say, are paid by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the National Endowment for the Arts, and by this radio station to which you are tuned right now, which gives me the space to expand my ideas, after which they ooze out all over the place, thanks to PRI, Public Radio International.
Once upon a time, many, many, many years ago, a caveman named Andmer Plumdrews woke up very early and couldn't get back to sleep. It was still dark in the cave, but when he went outside, he marveled at what he saw, for the sky was light and clear and full of strange and beautiful colors, but the sun was nowhere to be seen.
The fact is that Andmer's cave was so deep and dark that he had never in his life been up before sunrise. He climbed to the top of a nearby promontory and watched in wonder as the sun in all its splendor climbed slowly into the sky from beyond the horizon. So moved was he by the beauty of the scene before him, that he expressed his feelings aloud, speaking, of course, in cave.
[Schickele chants the incantation: "Og, og, og me bo. Og me bo do, bo bo."]
The next morning, having invented a primitive device that dropped a rock on his head at 5 a.m., Andmer woke up his aging father and helped him up to the promontory. His father, too, was moved by the sunrise, and expressed himself with the same words as his son, but his voice was pitched differently, so that a kind of harmony was produced when they spoke.
[the incantation, chanted in harmony by two overdubbed voices]
The next morning, Andmer brought his father, his wife, and both their kids up to the promontory. And when the sun rose, and they all expressed their amazement, each in a distinct voice, the world heard its first chorus.
[the incantation, chanted in harmony by several overdubbed voices]
Soon the whole clan was gathering on the promontory to greet the sun. By now, Andmer Plumdrews's initial reaction had become an incantation, spoken simultaneously by everyone, each in his or her own range, the moment the sun appeared. Little did these beetle-browed but gentle folk realize that they were inventing harmony.
[the incantation, chanted by the whole clan: an overdub of many voices]
Today, thousands and thousands of years later, and in spite of vast evolutionary changes in language, that same incantation can still be heard when the descendants of those simple cave people come together on the promontories of what we now call Austria.
[music: Rodgers/Hammerstein, "The Sound of Music" (The Sound of Music); Original Broadway Cast]
That's right, folks, and remember, you heard it first on Schickele Mix. Harmony was invented in Austria sometime between the last two ice ages by the ancestors of Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer, and The musical world hasn't been the same since On another edition of this program, we talk about how, in a melody plus accompaniment situation, the accompaniment is usually quite distinct from the melody, in order to make the melody stand out.
Specifically, the accompaniment is often very different rhythmically from the melody. The accompaniment may be a simple beat that is slower than most of the notes in the melody,
[music excerpt: Rakes (Rose Pub.), "How Mountain Girls Can Love" (In Concert at Carnegie Hall); The McLain Family Band]
Or the accompaniment may be fancy guitar and banjo pickin' whose notes are faster than those of the melody.
In both those cases, and in many, many, many, many other cases, the rhythm of the accompaniment is completely different from the melody. Now the one common kind of accompaniment that does not follow the principle of rhythmic differentiation from the melody is what we'll call harmonizing.
Protestant hymns and doo-wop singing are two bastions of harmonizing, which term I'm using to mean music that has at least two voices, but all the voices have the same rhythm. The melody, inasmuch as it stands out at all, usually stands out simply because it's on top. Our first suite today contains four great examples of harmonizing. Composers are not out to write textbook examples. They feel no didactic need to stick to one technique throughout a piece.
But I'll be sticking pretty close to the truth if I say that in these four works, all the parts have the same rhythm as the melody. The first number features two women singing mostly in unison, but every once in a while they sort of drift apart. Which, I suppose, is one of the ways that harmonizing might have started. The three women in the second piece and the six men in the third sing pretty consistently in harmony. In fact, it's usually harmony in parallel or similar motion.
That is, if the melody goes up, all the other voices go up too, and vice versa. This kind of harmonization can often be improvised, as Andmer Plumdrews and his clan demonstrated. Then the last number is a Protestant hymn, but believe me, it's not the kind they sang at the First Congregational Church in Fargo, North Dakota, up there on North Broadway. The Your Rhythm is Good Enough for Me Suite lasts about 12 minutes. I'll see you then.
[music: Trad., "Puirt-a-Beul" (Heart of the Gaels); Sileas]
[music: Anon., "Gloria" (An English Ladymass); Anonymous 4]
[music: Trad., "Pauline" (The Best of Ladysmith Black Mambazo); Ladysmith Black Mambazo]
[music: Anon., "Wondrous Love"; White Spirituals from the Sacred Harp]
Very good indeed. Your Rhythm Is Good Enough for Me Suite. We began from a sampler album called The Heart of the Gaels. A group called, and I don't know how to pronounce, you know, Gaelic stuff, so it's, the group is called Sileas, or Silius, which consists of Patsy Seddon and Mary Macmaster. They're both singing here. Apparently they also play harp. I'd love to get that whole album.
Anyway, that's called Puirt-a-Beul, or something like that, mouth music. Then, the second piece was from the Anonymous 4's album, An English Ladymass, that was an anonymous Gloria, medieval Gloria. Then, from an album called The Best of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, a tune called Pauline, which you probably figured out. Great number.
And then finally, that incredibly rousing sound at the end is from an album called White Spirituals from the Sacred Harp. The Sacred Harp is this terrific collection of old folk hymns in three and four part arrangements and shape note singing. This was taped at the Alabama Sacred Harp Convention in 1959 by Alan Lomax.
The hymn was called Wondrous Love, and those hundred people or so were all sight-reading. Somebody calls out a hymn, they give the pitches, and they all go to it. Sometimes apparently people bring in new ones, and everybody just sight-reads. It sounds like a tremendously emotional thing. I would love to be there for one of those conventions. I don't know if an outsider would feel at home, but I'd love to be there. Now, if you say hymn-style harmonization, everyone will assume a style in which the parts, usually four, soprano, alto, tenor, bass, all share basically the same rhythm.
But that is not adhered to strictly. And in fact, Bach, who made dozens of chorale harmonizations, often gives a fair amount of rhythmic independence to the lower three voices, but only up to a point. They're never as independent as they would be in a fugue, for instance. Sometimes a lot of busy harmonic activity can actually obscure the melody. Here's a setting by P. D. Q. Bach of a hymn he identifies as mündlich, that is, orally.
Sounds more like a medication instruction than a hymn title. Anyway, we will hear it performed on the organ of the King Congregational Church in Fay Wray, North Dakota.
[music: P. D. Q. Bach, Three Chorale-Based Piecelets (S. III), Chorale: “Orally” (P. D. Q. Bach: The Short-Tempered Clavier & other dysfunctional works for keyboards); Professor Schickele]
If you're wondering how P. D. Q. Bach, who, according to the world's greatest authority, lived in the 18th century, could have made a setting of an Elvis Presley song, let me point out that the melody of Love Me Tender comes from an old, old song about a girl named Aura Lea. "Sic transit gloria canti." The organist in that performance is also the host of this radio program. The name of both of them is Peter Schickele, and the name of the show is Schickele Mix from PRI, Public Radio International.
Today's show is called, And How Would You Like That Prepared, Sir? We started with one of the most basic kinds of harmonization, one chord for every melodic note. And now we continue with another one of the most basic kinds of harmonization, one chord for every group of melodic notes. Which brings us back, by the way, to the norm of rhythmically differentiated accompaniments.
The technique of simply plonking down a chord every measure or every half measure or every other measure can get very tedious when employed by an amateur who can do nothing else, like when there used to be a piano in the school cafeteria.
[music: keyboard demonstration, Schickele playing a tune over the background noise of a cafeteria]
But it can be very effective as a contrast to more florid kinds of accompaniment. It's very rarely used for a whole piece, which is why this next suitelet begins with an excerpt. I call the pair Simplicity Itself, and I'll be back in less than four minutes.
[music excerpt: Rideout, "Lament on the Death of Sor Blanca Maria" (Celtic Circles); Bonnie Rideout]
[music: Schubert, “Winterreise,” “Der greise Kopf”; Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau/Alfred Brendel]
Simplicity itself. The first of those two numbers was the beginning of the lament on the death of Sor Blanca Maria with the terrific fiddle player Bonnie Rideout, and that was Sue Richards playing the Celtic harp. And then we had Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and Alfred Brendel from Schubert's Winterreise, Der greise Kopf.
These words sound so modern in a way. The frost had spread a white glow over my head. Then I thought I was an old man already and was very glad. But soon it thawed away. I have black hair once more, so that I shudder at my youthfulness. How far it is yet to the grave. A punk rock number on that. Now, the thing about pianos and harps is that when you play a chord, it decays. There's no way you can keep it going without playing it again. But if you transfer this simplicity itself technique to instruments that can sustain notes, it's a whole new ball game, as we hear in the next suitelet called Hold That Chord. It has two movements and holds forth for about six minutes. Till then.
[music: Sebastian, "The Room Nobody Lives In" (The Best of John Sebastian); John Sebastian]
[music: Mudarra, "Fantasia que contrahaze la harpa" (La Dolce Vita); Tragicomedia]
Hold that chord. The first number was John Sebastian singing his song The Room Nobody Lives In and pumping away at the harmonium. And then from an absolutely gorgeous album called La Dolce Vita with the King's Singers and a group called Tragicomedia. That was a fantasy by a new composer to me.
Alonso Mudarra. And according to the liner notes, Mudarra's Fantasia for vihuela imitates the improvising style of Ludovico, the great Spanish harpist of the previous generation. I would have loved to have heard him play. Okay, my name is still Peter Schickele, just as it was earlier in the show, and that of the show is still Schickele Mix, from PRI, Public Radio International.
Have you heard about the composer who liked dissonant chords so much he ate them for breakfast? When people asked him what he had for breakfast, he said, harmony grits.
[sound: crowd laughing]
We're talking about basic harmonic accompaniments to melodies here and we're having a swell time doing it. Now you see, the trouble with the hold that chord technique is that after a while it can get to sounding pretty lugubrious. How can you keep the same chord going without being mistaken for a zombie? Easy. Repeat the chord. Repeat it again. And keep repeating it until you feel the sap starting to flow.
Our last suite contains five examples of accompaniments featuring repeated chords and it covers a lot of territory. Let's call this suite Once Is Not Enough. And here we go. A one, one, one, one, a two, two, two, two, a one, one, a two, two, a three, three, a four, four.
[music: Beach, "Juni" (Dark Garden); D'Anna Fortunato/Virginia Eskin]
[music: Trad., "Uthando Kwabanye" (Music of Africa Series, No. 11); Enock Mutawu]
[music: Trad. arr. Csoor, "Egy Par Tanc Mezosegrol"; Marta Sebestyen & Muzsikas]
[music: Chopin, Prelude, Opus 28, No. 4; Russell Sherman]
[music: Lennon/McCartney, "This Boy" ("Past Masters," Volume 1); The Beatles]
Once is not enough. A fine collection of repeated chords. We began with a song by Amy Beach, the American composer. This was called Juni, June, written in 1903. American composer, but German poem. Oh June days in the sunshine, flooding and cloudless, richly flowered meadows and blossoming wine, and in the gardens throughout the world, hearts ease and roses. Poem by Erich Jansen.
And then we had, from one of my favorite albums, a 10-inch LP, Music of Africa Series No. 11. That was a song called Uthando Kwabanye, a song with zither accompaniment by Enock Mutawu, who is from the Ndebele branch of the Zulu family. It's a song about the possession of cattle with which to pay the bride price, the cattle demanded of a young man who wishes to marry, recorded in 1953.
Then the wonderful group Muzsikas with Marta Sebestyen singing, that's a Mezoseg dance, and I don't think I'll even try to give the title, but the name of the album is Marta Sebestyen, and that instrument that keeps repeating the chord, in addition to the string bass, is a three-string violin with a flat bridge so that the bow hits all the way through.
All three strings at once, and that instrument just plays chordal accompaniment, repeating it like that. Then we heard the famous E minor Prelude from Opus 28 of Chopin, played by Russell Sherman. And then finally, The Beatles, This Boy. It's just, to me, it's fantastic how they take what is basically a rather trite kind of figure and a trite kind of harmonic progression and turn it into a fantastic song because of the harmonization and also because of that great bridge.
Meanwhile, the guitar is going chung-chung-chung-chung-chung-chung-chung-chung-chung-chung, one of the great cliches of repeated chords. Hey, we've got time for Tidbit Time. And speaking of repeated chords, this is a cautionary tale about some of the occupational hazards that can befall a repeated chord player.
[music: Ram (Panther Music), "The Great Pretender" (Stan Freberg Collectors Series); Stan Freberg]
Stan Freberg (recorded): Just a moment, please. You're on the piano. What are you doing?
Pianist (recorded): Well, man, I just play a little ooh-ba-ba-doo, like a ooh-ba-ba-ba-ooh-ba-ba-ba. See, I think it's a mistake on my part. I got the same chord over and over, like a clink-clink-clink-clink-clink-clink.
Stan Freberg (recorded): That's right! That's right!
Pianist (recorded): You want me to play the same thing all through the song?
Stan Freberg (recorded): You catch on fast!
Pianist (recorded): Wow.
Recording: Man, you scared me. Don't do that.
Recording: Watch it. That's better.
Pianist (recorded): That's all right with me.
[No speech for 39 s.]
Recording: Oh, what a drag.
Stan Freberg (recorded): Just a moment! Just a moment, please!
Pianist (recorded): I thought you were through, man.
Stan Freberg (recorded): No, no!
Pianist (recorded): I don't want to play that lick no more, man. I come from a different school. Like Shearing, Error Garner style, dig, man.
Stan Freberg (recorded): Hold it! That's not going to sell the records!
Pianist (recorded): Man, don't bug me. I don't want to play that cling-cling-cling jazz.
Stan Freberg (recorded): You play that cling-cling-cling jazz or you won't get paid tonight!
Pianist (recorded): Well, all right.
Stan Freberg (recorded): You see how lovely that turned out now? That's the darling part.
Pianist (recorded): I appreciate it.
Stan Freberg (recorded): Hold it. ... Slow down. ... Retard.
Pianist (recorded): Don't stop me now, man, I got to where I like it.
Recording: Stop it, stop it, I say. I'm getting out of here.
Stan Freberg (recorded): He ruined the ending, one of the loveliest parts in the whole piece. The whole piece.
[theme: Mozart, Symphony No. 24]
Stan Freberg's classic version of The Great Pretender brings Schickele Mix to a close for this week. Our program is made possible with funds provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, by the National Endowment for the Arts, and by this radio station and its members, whom I now thank. Thank you, members. Not only that, our program is distributed by PRI, Public Radio International.
We'll tell you in a moment how you can get an official playlist of all the music on today's program with album numbers and everything. Just refer to the program number. This is program 104. And this is Peter Schickele saying goodbye and reminding you that it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that certain je ne sais quoi. You're looking good. See you next week.
[theme: Mozart, Symphony No. 24]
If you'd like a copy of that playlist I mentioned, send a stamped self-addressed envelope to Schickele Mix. That's S-C-H-I-C-K-E-L-E, Schickele Mix. Care of Public Radio International, 100 North 6th Street, Suite 900A, Minneapolis, Minnesota, 55403.