Tag: Otter Creek

  • MapLab 4. Model a Metamorphosis

    As with MapLab 3, this will be multi-layer counterpoint utilizing canon in a homogenious texture. Now it will be entirely a repetitive ostinato texture — flowing, periodic rhythmic activity building a continuous texture of repeated arpeggios or melodic motives. Commonly called “minimalism,” its texture and overall rhythmic character are maximally dense.

    Multiple layers generate complex phase relationships between contrapuntal voices, with patterns of differing length repeating and changing at different times in the four layers.

    Layers of texture will change at different times to a new pattern, overlapping each other. Thus overall change of harmony unfolds gradually and continuously instead of at definite time points of harmonic rhythm, building a metamorphic form (instead of a traditional episodic sequence of chords, phrases, and sections).

    1. Choose a model

    The classic granddaddy of this whole genre is Terry Riley’s monumental 60-to-90-minute improvisatory piece, In C. My own 1984 homage to that classic, EFFULGENCE, models with Riley’s many innovative techniques.

    2. Select a source scale

    While any scale can work, those most commonly used are diatonic scales. In the TC example, we’ll go with the same as In C, a C-major/A-minor no-sharps-or-flats key signature. (We’ll see later, however, that a motive can be transposed into another diatonic scale and key signature.)

    3. Make motives

    First, design two or three motives, basic shapes of 3 to 7 pitches from the source scale.

    TC example:

    Motive R gets extended by the addition of two pitches, F and E. The last example shows motive T’s shape shifted to a different level of the diatonic scale (what Sibelius calls a diatonic transposition). A motive can also be truncated to as few as two notes:

    4. Plan a stream of motive variants

    Motive patterns can and should vary in length, especially when rhythmic values are mostly all 8th-notes, providing a changing landscape of rhythmic vitality. In the TC example, however, most patterns are 5 8th-notes long. Since 5 is a prime number, and set in a 3 4 meter, the overlaps of these 5-patterns in the competing lines fulfills that energetic complexity of rhythmic fabric.

    TC example

    For the pitch motives, a process of adding or abandoning pitches to make the next pattern creates the metamorphic unfolding process that is the true magic of this lab. In the TC example below, this add/abandon process is color coded:

    • GREEN for newly added pitches
    • BLUE for pitches appearing in a different octave than in the previous pattern
    • PURPLE for pitches that will appear next in a different octave
    • RED for pitches that will be abandoned in the next pattern

    You can see that by letter K the original C-major diatonic is modulating to a new diatonic, Bb major. These two keys have in common 5 pitch classes, and the patterns capitalize on the F, G, and C common tones to connect smoothly. (Riley’s In C also modulates, eventually adding F# and Bb in much the same way Bach inflects the C-major tonality toward the end of his famous C Major Prelude that launches Book I of the Well-Tempered Klavier.)

    Here is the lead voice of the ostinato canon:

    You can see that the number of repetitions of a pattern and the overall duration of its presence in the texture vary throughout. Patterns E, F, K, and P run for five full measures in the lead line alone (plus delayed answers in the whole texture), while the simple transitional pattern N runs for only five beats in the lead line.

    5. Spin the canonic counterpoint

    The time delays of canonic answer should be chosen not to match the length of the typical pattern. Otherwise, the answers would lock into fixed duplications of each other, making a rigid, uninteresting periodicity. Each new motive-pattern entry is highlighted below with a new dynamic marking. Here is a sample excerpt starting around pattern H:

    The answers all enter at unison or octave, with timings determined by a mostly trial-and-error method as follows:

    • PP – 9 beats later at unison, then 9 more beats down an octave
    • P – same
    • MF – almost same, but shortened last answer comes one 8th-note early
    • MP – (for a 3-8th-note pattern) 5 8th-notes later then 7 8th-notes after that
    • PP – top voice leads, answers are 2 beats later then 3 8th-notes after that

    This last is what we described in MapLab 3 as a stretto, answers coming in with very short time delay.

    6. Interrupt with an interlude

    As with In C, the ostinato texture can blast through from beginning to end in a continuous monolithic stream. Another form scheme, which I will invoke in the TC example, breaks the stream with an interrupting interlude before a coda to come. Of course, it’s another canon, a stretto of cascading downward dotted quarter-notes.

    7. Ending an ostinato stream

    Several considerations . . .

    First, since you’ve built a canon with staggered entrances, the last notes will be staggered as well. To make any kind of cadential closure, however, you’ll want to have them stop at the same time, right? That is accomplished simply by truncating the answering lines and/or adding repetitions of the final pattern in the lead voice.

    Think about the lead line and its answers leading to a point of harmonic stability and finality — somewhere that feels like tonic home base.

    More repetitions help slow and stop the harmonic momentum.

    In the TC example, an ostinato coda after interruption settles into and prolongs what will sound like a dominant chord in C major, then crash lands on a tonic C-major stinger.

    8. Title and listen

    The picturesque metaphor of a babbling creek made me reminisce about a favorite adventure on days off from working at the National Music Camp in Interlochen, Michigan back in the ’70s and early ’80s. We would canoe down the Platte River to its end flowing into Platte Bay on Lake Michigan. There was also a nearby spot where tiny Otter Creek trickled out onto a more secluded sandy Lake Michigan beach offering northward a spectacular view of Empire Bluff.

    Otter Creek

    Continue reading Mapping the Music Universe . . .

    MapLab 5. Spin a solo

  • journal 9. Mapping

    Leelanau, 1983 —

    My last summer working at what was then called the National Music Camp in Interlochen, Michigan was 1983. We spent as much time off as possible on the nearby shore of Lake Michigan. Three spots on the western edge of the Leelanau peninsula were favorite magical places. Otter Creek played out into a sandy delta at the beach, perfect for a picnic. Good Harbor Bay was an excellent shore for finding gray Petoskey stones, revealing fascinating hexagonal-shaped fossils when wet. Farther north, the Great Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes rise majestically hundreds of feet above the water’s edge.

    Béla Viktor János Bartók’s monumental 1937 work, Music for Strings, Percussion and Celeste, begins with a mysterious, meandering line played by subdued violas. It sounds to me like walking at the water’s curving edge on a fog-shrouded beach. The line becomes the subject of a gigantic fugue, building to a powerful climax. In my imagination, we reach the sheer cliff of a massive bluff at the end of a Lake Michigan bay.

    Music for Strings, Percussion and Celeste

    Chicago Symphony

    LISTEN > YouTube

    Shores

    Of course, Bartók never saw Lake Michigan. But shorelines are a fascinating kind of fractal patterns in nature.

    In 1980, Larry Austin received a commission from the Canadian Broadcasting System and KPFA for an experimental radiophonic work. For the premiere broadcast, the performers were in three different Canadian cities, synchronized by electronic signals! The mind-boggling result was a piece consisting of

    “a massively contrapuntal texture, with many instruments playing continuous, independent lines, all in different, independent tempos. The contours of each contrapuntal part were determined using maps of Canadian coastlines.”

    [Clark — Larry Austin: Life and Works of an Experimental composer. Borik Press, 2012, p. 40]

    I.C.M.C. 1981, Denton Texas

    LISTEN › YouTube

    Glacially-etched shorelines also inspired sonic imagery for a series of my pieces culminating in PENINSULA. Mappings of the natural contours of the Leelanau Peninsula provided richly varied patterns as basic coordinate numbers for sculpting sound patterns. The piano explores some of the endless possibilities for articulating a spectrum of sonorities. A surrounding environment of synthetic sounds was made by digitally analyzing timbral qualities of acoustic instruments, mostly with percussive articulations (metaphorically the rocky shore). The timbres were modified and resynthesized into a pointillistic sound texture. The density of the sound events rises and falls in waves according to changing values derived from the basic mappings. Larger confluences of waves are located in time by map points of special significance on the graph.

    The coexistence of piano sonorities and synthetic sounds is a metaphorical meeting of seascape and landscape, both animated in time.

    PENINSULA

    Clark 1984 (TC-50) Borik Press

    Clifton Matthews, piano, Winston-Salem NC, Feb. 2007

    There were many other groundbreaking pieces by my late friend and collaborator, Larry Austin. The first, Improvisations for Orchestra and Jazz Soloists, brought him to national prominence in 1964 with highly publicized broadcast performances by Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic.

    As Austin moved into computer music, he began exploring compositional algorithms using mathematical models such as fractals.

    Some of Charles Ives’ sketches for his monumental, never completed Universe Symphony were tracings of the outlines of rock formations. Austin studied deeply this Ives work starting in 1974 and eventually completed a version of Universe Symphony for expanded orchestras in 1993. In Austin’s own work beginning in 1976, mapping contours of mountain ridges and star constellations yielded musical patterns for First Fantasy on Ives’ Universe Symphony, Maroon Bells, and *Stars.

    Constellations

    Always interested in astronomy, I tried plotting star constellations on two-dimensional matrix graphs. The coordinates of each star in a constellation could be interpreted as time-point and pitch information, resulting in a complex arpeggiated group of notes. More intriguing was the capability to rotate the map, resulting in many possible variants that stretch or compress the rhythm and chord structure.

    Cygnus
    Cygnus rotated 90º
    Orion
    Orion rotated 90º

    The first compositional product of this design work, LIGHTFORMS 1 – Constellations (TC-65), scored for piano, was published by Borik Press in 1992. Naming these patterns, pitch-time chord arpeggios, as constellations became a breakthrough concept

    In my book, Mapping the Music Universe, I cite a remarkable pioneer of cartography. “William Smith, a rural surveyor, in 1799 drew a colorful map of the subterranean rock strata of his county in English coal country, launching the modern science of geology.”  The map was extraordinary not only as a scientific breakthrough, but also visually by his hand coloring each huge copy.

    As digital synthesizers came along, sound making with computers offered more calculated control of the timbral (tone color) spectrum. My astronomical metaphor continued with a 1993 piece, using the then state-of-the-art Synclavier II digital synthesizer to “color” the constellation patterns of LIGHTFORMS 1. Reflecting the varied colors of stars, I built color families of sound, distinguishing unique frequency-modulation ratios for each group.

    LIGHTFORMS 2: StarSpectra

    Clark 1993 (TC-68)

    In 1887, French astronomer Amédée Mouchez launched an ambitious international star-mapping project (Carte du Ciel) at the Paris Observatory. It was never finished, until now the challenge has been taken up by the new Vera C. Rubin Observatory (formerly the Large Synoptic Survey Telescope) in Chile. It is conducting the Legacy Survey of Space and Time, repeated astronomical surveys of the entire southern sky.

    From wandering forest paths to trekking scenic shorelines, my life has always been full of ambient exploration. Mapping has become my grand metaphor for exploring musical territory, culminating in the book, Mapping the Music Universe. It begins:

    “The heavenly motions are nothing
    but a continuous song for several voices,
    perceived not by the ear but by the intellect,
    a figured music that sets landmarks
    in the immeasurable flow of time.”

    — Galileo Galilei

    “When we gaze at stars and planets, they appear as stationary points of light, fixed in place in what seems a random pattern across the entire night sky visible to our hemisphere. Time stands still.

    “Throughout human time, humans have imagined that stars make picture patterns we name as constellations: fish, warriors, goddesses, animals. Only the persistent observers, such as astronomers, identify their nightly march across the sky, rising in the east and disappearing below the western horizon.”

    In Mapping the Music Universe, a studied journey through musical time, pitch, and structure, many composed examples took on characters of named constellations, galaxies, and galaxy clusters. They coalesced into 12 etudes, collected here as “a continuous song.”

    Clark 2021 (TC-114)

    Listen, imagining a 24-hour 360º rotation of our earthbound telescope, viewing the entire cosmos in 24 minutes.

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