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Blog prompt 7 covered participatory discrepancy and offered quite a number of examples including but not limited to D’Angelo – “Untitled (How Does It Feel?)”, Led Zeppelin – “Black Dog”, and Miles Davis – “Freddie Freeloader”.  In all of these examples, the participatory discrepancy lent itself to the “groove” that each piece had.  For this choice cut, I wanted to share my own experience of participatory discrepancy and groove in some of the performances I have taken part in.

The most obvious musical setting for participatory discrepancy that I have taken part in is a jazz combo. During my senior year, I headed a jazz sextet consisting of saxophone, trombone, piano, bass guitar, guitar and drums. Our repertoire consisted mainly of ballads, as the gigs we were offered were well suited to that style of background music. The laid-back shuffle style in which we performed many of our ballads has inherent participatory discrepancy, playing slightly behind the beat. Without a conductor, our ensemble functioned like a chamber group, communication visually and aurally. That being said, it was the lack of precise meshing that gave my combo its smooth groove.

The setting that offered the most moving participatory discrepancy(ish) was however at UBCSMI, the University of British Columbia Summer Music Institute. UBCSMI consists of one week of lodging and rehearsal as an ensemble to prepare a concert on the sixth day. I have participated a number of times, however in my 2018 year I had my most moving musical moment. For the 2018 SMI concert, one of the pieces that we were working to prepare was Frank Ticheli’s An American Elegy, a piece written to commemorate the Columbine school shooting, and to offer hope and solidarity for those who survived. As the week progressed and we rehearsed, the conductor filled us in on the significance of the piece and we all took it to heart. A setting like UBCSMI was essential to honoring An American Elegy, as every musician present was 110% emotionally invested.  On performance day, the conductor told the ensemble not to cry on stage which may have seemed unnecessary, however we all knew there was a distinct possibility. At the emotional climax of the piece, there is an octave jump in the trumpet. During our performance, the conductor stretched out the top note and built emotional suspense, and upon resolving the suspension, every member of the ensemble began to weep. While this was not participatory discrepancy in the same way that the examples above are, this pulling back on the tempo entirely courtesy of the conductor and not the score, I would categorize as participatory discrepancy. I am confident in my assessment courtesy of the degree in which it moved me and every other musician on stage. The discrepancy was between what the audience and musicians expected, and what the conductor had the musicians play.  That concert remains to this day the most moving musical experience I have had, and one of the most powerful experiences of my life.

Frank Ticheli – “An American Elegy”

Music in 2020 often acts as a background or soundtrack for the listener’s life. As such, music is often appreciated only for what is being perceived at the superficial level. Repeated listening can however give the listener a deeper understanding of the music they are listening to – be it a subtle rhythm or countermelody they did not perceive at first, or maybe even a better understanding of what the music may be trying to express.  In the fast-paced society in which we lived pre-Covid, there was not much time to sit down and fully appreciate music. With many people working from home during the pandemic, commute times have been eliminated, creating time for alternate activities.  I believe a good use of the time created by a lack of commute could be put to good use for music appreciation through repeated listening. The act of listening to music can be incredibly meditative and even eye opening.  After actively listening to a piece of music for an extended period of time, the listener can immerse themself completely in the music and reflect about what they discovered when it has come to pass. During my forty minute listening of Joao Gilberto’s recording of “The Girl from Ipanema”, I found myself completely lost in the sound – taken by the groove. Every repetition was different in my mind, seeking out something different every time. When I had finished, not only had I peeled back the many layers of the harmonically complicated song, but I felt rejuvenated, like I had just had a spectacular nap. Music can do much more than simply soothe the listener, but repeated listening can be eye-opening in the same way that learning a language can change the way you think. Music that falls outside of what one is familiar with can often elicit an uncomfortable feeling in the listener. Repeated listening to songs we DON’T like are more important than repeated listening to songs we do like.  If we only listen to music that we are familiar and comfortable with, then our perception of music remains narrow, naïve and ignorant. Only when we possess the tools required to analyze the music we listen to, can we begin to draw conclusions about it.  Even if in the end our perception of a piece of music or genre remains unchanged, the listener will understand what about it they dislike and progress has been made.

               In Covid times, it is important that musicians like many other professions learn to adapt to the changing social landscape. From revising the delivery method of their performances to alternate means of raking in revenue, musicians are facing a wall.  The provided articles suggest live streaming performances on platforms like Youtube, Instagram and Facebook. Monetization on these platforms however can be spotty, and so alternative avenues for payment are suggested. Online banking and money management applications and services like PayPal, Venmo and Cashapp all have QR codes that can be used to send money as a means of donating. With the novelty of generosity wearing out as the months of quarantine draw out, merchandise and subscription services are taking prevalence. Many artists are churning out merchandise both familiar and unfamiliar. From tee-shirts to jock straps, there is a wide range of different merchandise being put forward. Much of this merchandise also brings to light social issues like Black Lives Matter and the importance of social distancing, and in many cases a portion of the revenue goes on to support charities. Services are also being put forward to support content creators to act as intermediaries for sales. That way, smaller artists who could not otherwise afford to create and distribute merchandise themselves at reasonable prices can create designs and have the sales and distribution handled for them. A large proponent for staying afloat as a musician in Covid that hasn’t been addressed yet, is marketing.  Smaller artists tend to get swept under the rug, and must therefore advocate for themselves and market their art in order to gain attention and recognition.  Busking remains a good option for getting one’s music out into the world, and while busking one can advertise their music through the sale of CDs or through sharing their Spotify or Soundcloud handles. 

                In order to do most of the things outlined above, music artists are being required to lean more heavily on technology for their art. As a tuba player, I did not expect I would need to be proficient with streaming services like Youtube and Facebook, or software like OBS. That being said, delivery methods for music performance are changing wildly, and artists are going to be required to adapt to these changes. With this in mind, I believe that proficiency with these services and softwares should be included as part of standard university music education, rather than as an alternative avenue. Difficult as it may be to include technical digital proficiency into an already dense curriculum, it would be incredibly beneficial to young and upcoming musicians. Really it is quite appalling that these avenues were not being addressed and explored beforehand, as Covid left schools reeling in the absence of in-person education. The challenges posed by digital course delivery for courses like UVic Wind Symphony would be inconsequential if students had been given a fundamental understanding of recording – miking and recording software – and audio editing.  Students are being required to figure these things out on their own when they could be taught as a part of their curriculum.

Above is a promotional video I took part in as a response to music programs in my school district being cut back

Above is another multi-track project I took part in as a socially acceptable online music collaboration

There are a number of problems inherent to a project like the Golden Record Project that this class, MUS116 music appreciation, has laid bare. The Golden Record Project seeks to act as a representation of humanity and Earth’s global culture, but cannot hope to succeed at either due to the lack of true global culture, and the innumerable uniquenesses that are discredited by the term “humanity”. In Dr. Munarriz’s lecture on the many musics of Latin America, he addressed the problem with a term as general as Latin American Music. As there are dozens of musical styles and cultures in Latin America, using a blanket term is detrimental to the cogence of one’s argument. With this in mind, it is a fruitless effort to try and represent all of humanity in the contents of two golden records. Any attempt to choose “highlights” of humanity is a dangerous endeavor as well, as it is impossible to make objective choices regarding achievements as the values of different cultures vary wildly. To value the achievements of one culture over another through the lens of one’s own culture creates a canon specific to the perspective of the creators. The narrow cultural frame of reference prohibits the accurate representation of humanity as a whole, therefore failing in its goal of representing a global culture.  These problems are similarly addressed through Adam Neely’s video on the white supremacist reference frame of western music theory (https://youtu.be/Kr3quGh7pJA ), in which the perpetuation of a canon specific to a certain culture molded the global perception and education of music theory.  Even if a global canon was created by delegates from every country on earth, only a minute fraction of Earth’s “global culture” would be represented. Beyond that, there is not a computer powerful enough to house representations of every culture on earth and enough explanation and history to outline the relevance. Even were it possible, as of the creation of this Choice Cut, there is no guarantee that an extraterrestrial would be able to understand or interpret any of the information put forward.  In the nature of this (fantastic) class, the pursuit of opening one’s heart and mind to different types of music and art in general poses a significant obstacle to a project like the Golden Record Project, and before something like the GRP is put together all avenues of human culture should be closely examined.

On October 3rd, I joined a few friends in attending an early music concert at the Alix Goolden Hall in Victoria.  The musicians performing were Soile Stratkauskas on flute, Chloe Meyers on violin, Natalie Mackie on viola de gamba and Alexander Weimann on harpsichord.  Before the performance began, I was cognizant of the acoustic of the dainty performance hall, the cars driving past on the street outside, and the intimacy of the space.  There were only fourteen people in attendance, and so the ambience of the hall felt warm and friendly.  Before beginning the evening with Handel’s Trio Sonata in A major, the quartet addressed the audience and expressed their gratitude for the support, and reciprocated my belief about the personal nature of the performance.  The trio sonata was taken at a slightly slower tempo than I was familiar with, but the slower tempo enabled the opening flute line to sing expressively.  I was amazed by how rich the sound of the wooden flute was, and how clear and nimble Soile Stratkauskas was with her articulations and leaps.  It was immediately apparent that this quartet had extensive experience performing together, as their tempo, rhythm and rubato was as clean as I had ever heard.  It was captivating how the balance of the voices allowed for the melody and countermelody to rest just above the texture, passed from one musician to another.  The visual communication between the violin and the ensemble was clear and well practiced, and a good model for me to bring to my own chamber rehearsals.  Following the Handel trio sonata was Sinfonia in D minor by Alessandro Stradella, a piece I was entirely unfamiliar with.  This piece was dark and wistful, and brought me back to the argument that minor keys are not necessarily sad – as Sinfonia possessed more of a longing and hopeful tone than a sad one.  While I really enjoyed listening to this piece, I could not fully appreciate it as I was trying to hold on to every individual note, and could not give the musical nuances the attention they deserved.  Regardless, Stradella’s Sinfonia in D minor was a must-add to my classical (small c) playlist, and I plan on further familiarizing myself both with this work, and with Stradella as an artist. Stratkasuskas rejoined the ensemble for J.S. Bach’s Trio Sonata in G major.  This piece was sweet and pleasant, rife with notes inégales.  I am not a fan of such light, fluffy and vapid music, however the technical facility of the quartet and their musicianship was fantastic and I could not help but appreciate it.  The final work of the set was Telemann’s Paris Quartet in E minor. What stood out to me was Staskauskas’ cueing. Around halfway through one of the middle movements, she cues an entrance, but after her motion takes her breath and the ensemble begins right in time.  This emphasized just how in touch the quartet was, and lent itself heavily to the cohesive sound that they produced.  Technically, the concert in its entirety was well balanced across both the instruments and the program. The concert hall facilitated the style in which the quartet played, and offered the appropriate resonance.  Tuning was immaculate, as was rhythm and tempo.  Expression was clear both through the musical lines as well as through physical motion throughout the phrases.  There was little in the way of dynamic contrast as a function of the harpsichord being part of the instrumentation, however the ensemble managed to vary its tone colour clearly and appropriately. The performers were all dressed in black, however there was no unifying style of clothing.  The flute was positioned at the foreground of the stage on the left with the violin following her in an arc. The harpsichord was at the back in the middle of the stage with the viola de gamba across from the violin.  As a whole, the concert was a beautiful and awe inspiring experience.  The intimacy was a first for me, and I felt it was better representative of how the music was written to be performed, as at the time it would have been performed in a salon or other small venue with few in attendance.  It was a refreshing reintroduction to concert viewing, and set the standard for cohesive sound and musical expression.