First rehearsals can often be very encouraging. People who are new to the group or director will often be especially alert and ready to do what's asked. It's the second and following rehearsals when the musicians can get to feel more comfortable and confident. Those are great things. Unfortunately they can lead to less concentration. This is what I'll need to avoid at tonight's rehearsal. I'm very optimistic all will go as I hope though. As I said, I've got a great group to work with.

Tomorrow night we join everyone in the chorus and orchestra for our first big rehearsal on all the choruses and chorales. And we'll be in the performance space. I still feel humbled (and to be honest, slightly daunted) to be standing in front leading 30 pros through one of history's greatest works. What makes me so special? Well, nothing actually. But fortune has been kind in leading me to the present. I'll do what I can to live up to the task ahead.

Now it's time for a short nap.

Unlike most modern music (anything written since around 1900), Baroque music has very little indication of dynamics in the score. Occasionally one will find the forte or piano marking. Even more rarely a fortissimo or pianissimo. So what does that mean? Are we to play Baroque music without dynamic inflection? Is this evidence of the famous "terraced dynamics" many of us learned about in college? I believe composers did write dynamics in their works. They just more often used indications other than the usual f and p.

If that's true, then what were the indications they used? Well, the most common one is still understood and used by modern musicians: if the line goes higher, crescendo; if the line goes lower, diminuendo. Personally I prefer to think of crescendo as "gaining in energy" and diminuendo as "relaxing the energy." I feel this more accurately reflects what's going on. Having said that, however, the easiest and most direct way of showing "gaining in energy" is to crescendo and "relaxing the energy" is to diminuendo.

There is a difference between the "long line" crescendo which works so well in later Romantic music and the more localized crescendo which works in Baroque pieces. In general early instruments aren't able to sustain as great a variation in volume as their modern counterparts. Harpsichords, for example, have hardly any range of piano and forte. They mostly play at pretty much the same volume no matter what. (There are small differences that can be discussed, but the basic idea is good.) Consequently, big changes from loud to soft aren't what makes Baroque music interesting and moving. But what does work are smaller crescendos and diminuendos over a few notes or even a single note. This is one of the techniques which make Baroque music sound like the inflection we use in everyday speech. So what this means is that dynamics in Baroque music are more on a micro level rather than a macro one. The increasing or decreasing happens over the course of a few notes, or even a single note (and this quite often), not over a long line strung together for many measures with each note continuing the increase or decrease from the previous. This really is much like speech. We inflect individual words or phrases; not entire paragraphs. And it's in this inflection that our interpretive skills come into play. 

For example, in the previous sentence we can change the internal message through inflection: "We inflect individual words or phrases; not entire paragraphs." Or, "We inflect individual words or phrases; not entire paragraphs." Or, "We inflect individual words or phrases; not entire paragraphs." This could go on for as many combinations as there exist. The point is that the main or outward message of those words remains the same; it's the inward or sub-message which adds another layer of meaning that changes. It's the same with a musical line.

Having said this I do not mean to imply that there is not dynamic variation on the macro level in Baroque music. There most certainly is. But in our modern thinking we tend to ignore the micro level and focus on the macro only. I believe that Baroque music requires us to focus on the micro and then let it inform the macro.

What other indications did composers use to show dynamics? As discussed in a previous blog entry, slurs. Slurs mean diminuendo. Ties over the barline mean crescendo because they will inevitably become dissonant on the tied note and dissonance needs stress or weight. The same is true for half notes in the middle of a 4/4 bar. When a half note begins on beat two it will nearly always become dissonant on beat three; that's why it's a half note instead of a quarter. Dotted notes often mean the same thing as ties. In a duple meter the dot delays the note moving to the next note. The anticipation created by the delay requires the same stress or weight, i.e. crescendo.

Another dynamic indication Baroque composers used was harmony. When the harmony becomes complicated, or unexpected, or filled with tension or uncertainty this often calls for more energy (louder? stronger articulation?). When the harmony becomes simpler and predictable, such as at cadences, a relaxation of energy (softer? more gentle articulation?) is called for. This is exactly opposite to what Leopold Stokowski did with his orchestrations of Bach's works. In the late Romantic period it's the cadence which tends to get bigger and bigger, with more and more weight. This approach feels satisfying in this later repertoire, but it puts the emphasis on the wrong syllable in earlier works.

In every piece of music notes rarely stand alone. The meaning of a musical note is almost always found in its context. What is the note's relationship to the notes surrounding it? Does the note in question belong to what came before or what comes next? Is it part of a build up? Is it the emotional climax of the line? Is it part of a relaxation? Is it more than one of these things?

The best way to decide for yourself the answer to these questions is to play the line different ways, listening to the effect those differences have on the note and line, and then deciding what works best in the given situation. Having said that, however, there is a basic guideline which works in Baroque music probably 95% of the time. Group notes together which move in the same direction. And start each grouping with either the lowest or highest pitch. This remains true no matter which beat or part of a beat that group starts on. Below is an example of how one would group a line according to the above guideline. It comes from the G minor Two-Part Invention of Bach.

You'll notice a couple things. Occasionally there will be a note which isn't grouped with either the notes preceding it nor coming after it. For instance, the last 1/16th note of beat two in the first measure. You'll also notice, particularly in Bach, that rarely do the groupings line up with the beats. The composer will either provide a second part (bass line in this case) which makes very clear where the beats are, or will have set up the beat structure so clearly that even when the lines diverge from the expected beats, we still hear where those beats are supposed to be.

We've probably all heard what some refer to as sewing machine music: Baroque music played with an absolutely strict tempo (no agogic emphasis anywhere) and notes grouped only by beats. Personally, I find this sort of performance very dry, predictable, and, well, boring. But when one articulates the beginning of each group as shown above, the line takes on an interesting life of its own. We get accents where they're not expected (though pleasantly surprising) and a varied number of accents in each bar. This is definitely not boring. One's attention is constantly being aroused. Jazz does much the same thing; plenty of syncopations (accents on "off beats") and unexpected energies.

As I mentioned this works almost all the time. When you're sight-reading you can use the above guideline and you'll be a long way toward an interesting rendition the first time through. There are exceptions, of course. It's harder to make rules about them though. Unfortunately you're on your own there!

Here is the book referenced in the previous blog by Quantz. And here is the info from Amazon's site. This is a great book.

What do slurs mean in Baroque music? Well they do mean the expected thing: playing all notes under the slur with one bow stroke or one tonguing on the first note only. But the other meaning of the slur is diminuendo. Of the notes grouped under a slur the first one should be the strongest and the others coming away or relaxing from the first. This goes hand in hand with the Baroque idea that notes are not created equal. 

For example, in the opening movement of Bach's St. John Passion the violins have slurred groups of four 1/16th notes on every beat (4/4 time signature). Each slur needs to have a subtle, but definite, diminuendo. This helps to bring out an almost heartbeat-like energy found in that movement. The cellos have repeated 1/8th notes to support the heartbeat with the bass playing only on beat 1 and 3. Meanwhile the winds have long sustained notes above all the rest. If the upper strings don't diminuendo in the slurs, then the texture becomes too thick to hear anything but a mass of sound; no definition of individual lines.

If you experiment with this idea of diminuendos and slurs you'll find that lines in many works come to life in ways they otherwise wouldn't. Do use your "good taste." This shouldn't make anyone seasick!

In the last entry I wrote about articulation and how the beginnings and endings of notes are important, particularly for Baroque music. Here I'll follow up with a few more details.

At my first organ lesson in graduate school my very wise teacher (Robert Clark) assigned the chapter on tonguing in Johann Quantz's 18th century treatise on playing the flute. This was the first time I'd had reading to do for an organ lesson. I was a bit confused on why I should be reading about flute playing and even more about why tonguing had anything to do with playing organ. There were many examples of how to tongue certain groupings of notes, and about halfway through the chapter I finally realized that what Quantz was explaining was how notes related to each other. It was then that I first understood exactly how much like a language music is. 

I won't recount Quantz's comments and examples. You can easily find them and lots of other interesting things about playing Baroque music in his book (On Playing the Flute, tr.Edward R. Reilly -- I found it on Amazon). But a couple of generalizations can get you started. (Note: if you really want to figure this out, you'll need to study not only of Quantz's book, but others as well. And it speeds up the process if you're studying with a knowledgable teacher.)

As you'll find in the Quantz book, there are a fair number of different consonants he uses at the beginning of notes: T, D, R, etc. In general the stronger consonants go on the "good" notes; notes which fall on strong beats (or strong parts of beats). The weaker consonants on the "bad" notes; notes which fall on weak beats. This immediately starts setting up hierarchies. And it is this unequal view of notes which really distinguishes Baroque or, in Bruce Haynes' (see The End of Early Music in earlier post) words, rhetorical playing from the modern techniques. Notes, beats, phrases, nothing in rhetorical music is equal. Every note has its assigned role in the "social" hierarchy of a given work. The different tonguings support and emphasize these various roles. 

String players too can make use of these consonants. It requires a very different use of the bow from modern techniques though; nearly opposite. I'm not a string player and so know about enough of these details to cause trouble. But suffice it to say, that the bow is used in a way which plucks the string in a myriad of different ways creating many different beginnings to notes.

Keyboard players can also do this; even on the organ and harpsichord. (Actually it's nearly impossible on the modern piano.) It has mostly to do with the speed of attack. Pressing the key quickly and with a certain amount of force causes a stronger consonant sound at the beginning of a note. A slow, gentle attack does the opposite. And on a sensitive harpsichord this can be quite clear. And when it's combined with overholding (holding a note or notes longer than notated and while you're playing the next) it's quite amazing how expressive the harpsichord can be.

In future posts I'll discuss slurs, grouping notes (how to know when to separate notes and when to connect them), and some basic thoughts on shaping longer notes.

Some have said that, at its best, Baroque music is all about articulation. I must say that I think it's articulation which makes the performance of Baroque music different from other periods; particularly later periods.

According to the Grove Dictionary of Music articulation is:

"The separation of successive notes from one another, singly or in groups, by a performer, and the manner in which this is done.… the term ‘articulation’ refers primarily to the degree to which a performer detaches individual notes from one another in practice (e.g. in staccato and legato)."

This, however, is not what I mean by articulation. If one looks at an English dictionary you're likely to find words like: intelligible, understandable, comprehensible. I think these words are more useful when we talk of articulation. 

Baroque music is really speech (see all the references to rhetoric in 18th century musical treatises). What makes speech intelligible are the consonants, not so much the vowels. If I spoke or wrote only in vowels you'd have no idea what I was saying. For example: "aio ae ea!" But if I wrote only consonants you'd be much closer to knowing what I mean. "Hrpschrds r grt!" Both of these are "Harpsichords are great!" Granted we need both consonants and vowels in the end. But my point is that the consonants carry a huge portion of the meaning of words. Likewise the beginnings and endings of notes carry the lion's share of the meaning in Baroque music.

In modern playing we don't learn much about making differences at the beginnings of notes. Only the spaces between notes seem to be of interest. And modern instruments aren't set up to help us make these different "consonants." But if we pay careful attention to the beginnings of notes and what "consonant" we use, and strive to find as many different beginning sounds as our instruments allow, we'll be well on our way to playing lively and engaging Baroque music.