The Fine Art of Listening

The notion of observing Indigenous Peoples’ Day is quickly gaining momentum, and will probably soon eliminate Columbus Day altogether. Its first official celebration was, ironically, on the 500th anniversary of Columbus’ voyage, in 1992, in the form of a protest.

Like any other human culture, Native Americans have been making music for thousands of years. Sadly, with the decimation of their nations and people, there are only a handful of living Native American composers today. The good news is that efforts are being made to promote and encourage music by Native American composers, especially by the First Nations Composer Initiative, part of the American Composers Forum. One of the Institute’s advisors is Jerod Impichchaachaaha’ Tate, a member of the Chickasaw, who were among the tribes who walked the infamous trail of tears.

This work by Tate is a longer listen, but well worth it. The following description (slightly shortened) comes from Tate’s website:

Iholba’ (The Vision) is a work inspired by the composer’s native Chickasaw culture…. The musical material for Iholba is based on a Chickasaw Garfish Dance song and work is sung in the Chickasaw language. The text is original poetry by the composer…. The work is in two movements, entitled Halbina’ (The Gift) and Iholba’ (The Vision)…. Iholba’ is dedicated to my grandmother, Juanita Foshi’ Keel Tate.

Don’t do drugs, kids. But if you do, do it like Scriabin.

Alexander Scriabin wrote plenty of perfectly normal pieces; he was a brilliant pianist who wrote his own set of piano preludes and etudes, similar to the great Chopin and Liszt. But once he turned 25, things began to get weird. He developed his own system of harmony based on the whole tone and octatonic scales. At the time, this was edgy, but not groundbreaking; it makes his music sound similar to French impressionism. What sets Scriabin apart is his synesthesia, the “color organ” he invented, his devotion to Theosophy, his rambling writings, and his wild music inspired by religious visions. His two most famous pieces are the Poem of Fire and the Poem of Ecstasy.

Scriabin himself approved this description of The Poem of Ecstasy, which will describe it far better than I:

The Poem of Ecstasy is the Joy of Liberated Action. The Cosmos, i.e., Spirit, is Eternal Creation without External Motivation, a Divine Play of Worlds. The Creative Spirit, i.e., the Universe at Play, is not conscious of the Absoluteness of its creativeness, having subordinated itself to a Finality and made creativity a means toward an end. The stronger the pulse beat of life and the more rapid the precipitation of rhythms, the more clearly the awareness comes to the Spirit that it is consubstantial with creativity itself. When the Spirit has attained the supreme culmination of its activity and has been torn away from the embraces of teleology and relativity, when it has exhausted completely its substance and its liberated active energy, the Time of Ecstasy shall arrive.

I’ll say it again, kids: don’t do drugs.

I graduated from college before Wikipedia became big, so I’ve never had a professor scold me for using it as a source. I have heard about people submitting papers which completely incorrect information, due to faulty articles and non-expert sources. I remain on the fence in this battle, because either one expert or a collective group of people are equally capable of getting things wrong, not to mention that zeitgeists seem to have way too much influence on what is considered fact. I was happy being blissfully ignorant of what was real and what was fake on Wikipedia.

Until today.

Now, there are untruths that hurt people directly, like the supposed link between vaccines and autism. And then there are untruths that may not directly hurt people, but waste human effort and create a distrust of expertise – perhaps like the modern Flat Earth Society. And then there are untruths that don’t cause any real damage, but really piss me off. Like the Wikipedia article on Johannes Brahms‘ Piano Quartet in G minor.

Traditional sonata form begins with an exposition, which typically has two contrasting themes (occasionally there may be a third theme). The article claims that there are five – FIVE – themes in the first movement. If this were true, the first theme returns in developed version before the third theme is heard. What the author thinks is two themes is simply a short introduction, followed by a single primary theme. Like nearly every sonata, there is a transitional section which brings us to the secondary theme (or, the author’s proposed third theme). The proposed fourth theme is simply the end of the real secondary theme, and theme five is a coda. The only correct thing the author said is: Although the exposition is not repeated, Brahms creates the illusion of its repetition by starting the development section with the identical ten measures that begins the exposition.

And then the ultimate lie: Very atypically, the recapitulation begins not with the first theme, but with the second theme in G major. Sorry, but actually the recapitulation did begin with the primary theme, it just happened way later than you thought. There is no “imitative development” (whatever that is) in the recapitulation. Lastly, in what way is the exposition’s final cadence “reluctant”, and the recapitulation’s final cadence “incomplete”?

LIES!