The piece was written by John Cage and is the longest piece of music ever. Cage initially intended the work to last about one hour, however he later revised the score to remove the durations and indicated that the piece be played as slow as possible. Given the pipe organ’s ability to play until the bellows stop pumping, the piece lends itself to an enormously long performance.
Right now the organ is playing a tri-tone (D4 and A-flat4) and will continue to do so until July 5, 2010. On that day, the A-flat will end and a single D will sound for seven months. Then a G5 will be added. The piece will end on September 5, 2640. To put that date into perspective, The United States of America will have tripled in age. 2009 will be a small blip in the play of time and an organ in Germany will still be playing the same piece.
The beauty of the internet has made it possible to hear the organ from your living room. You can rest assured I will be tuning in to hear the sonority change on July 5th.
The organ itself is something of a marvel too. It resides in a church that was once used as a pig sty during the communist years in East Germany. Right now it has only six pipes, which is plenty for the foreseeable future. The committee that is overseeing the performance accepts donations and will expand the organ as needed.
I am not entirely sure why I am blogging this, but I thought it was illuminating into the life of the great Harvey Lavan “Van” Cliburn Jr.
Many people have heard of the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition however, many people have never heard a recording of what is probably the greatest American musician ever. Today that changes, comrades. Here’s Harvey Van absolutely killing it on Franz Liszt’s Etude No. 39 “Un Sospiro”. All those notes that Van Cliburn makes sound really easy? Yeah, that’s not easy.
Charles Ives, age 69, suffering from diabetes, impaired by multiple heart attacks and probable strokes, singing his ass off. This is a recording every American musician should know. This is what makes us American. Ives’s enthusiasm and perseverance through the nasty modulations he wrote are to be admired through the lens of the American spirit. Is it a great performance to listen to? No. Is it a great performance? To me, yes it is.
Not only was Ives writing the most heady stuff when Milton Babbit wasn’t even a twinkle in someone’s eye, but the dude basically invented estate-planning. How those things fit together, I’ll never be certain. Ives is a true American hero that is (and was) too often ignored. He was born 135 years ago today.
For good measure, go ahead and listen to The Unanswered Question. It won’t hurt ya.
The Unanswered Question (1906) – The New York Philharmonic
That’s not E. It’s close, but everything is relative.
All will be revealed.
I was doing some research today for one of my students who is working on intonation and I collected this information on Just Intonation. I have compiled it into a table for easy reading.
Chromatic Scale Degree
Equal Temperament
Just Intonation
Deviation from Equal Temperament
1
0 cents
0 cents
0 cents
2
100 cents
88 cents
-12 cents
3
200 cents
204 cents
4 cents
4
300 cents
316 cents
16 cents
5
400 cents
386 cents
-14 cents
6
500 cents
498 cents
-2 cents
7
600 cents
600 cents
0 cents
8
700 cents
702 cents
2 cents
9
800 cents
814 cents
14 cents
10
900 cents
884 cents
-16 cents
11
1000 cents
971 cents
-29 cents
12
1100 cents
1088 cents
-12 cents
OK. So what?
This information, more than any other, is crucial for playing in tune. For years I have been taught about my instrument’s tendencies (A is sharp, B is flat, etc.) and even taught how to adjust. It wasn’t until I started playing with a quartet and really working on intonation that I began to understand how intonation actually works.
From the chart we can see that scale degree 5 (the tonic major third) is WAY too sharp in the Equal Temperament system. Don’t even get me started about the dominant 7th of the tonic major triad. (Seems like the Equal Tempered guys never thought of modulating to the sub-dominant, but I digress). Somewhere along the way we tricked ourselves into being cool with out of tune-ness. It’s way easier to just accept being out of tune that to actually tune things. (If you agree with the last statement, stop right there cowboy. Your work is done.)
I can site probably 20 recordings of saxophonists who were taught the same way I was, and it shows. Every pitch that I was told was heinously sharp is heinously flattened without a thought regarding where the pitch was supposed to be. I even came across a discussion forum where some one was advocating that flat notes = dark sounds and sharp notes = bright sounds. It astounds me that this still goes on. Our country has enough problems already so let’s just end that debate right here. Flat = flat ; sharp = sharp. Full stop. If you want a dark sound you need to find a different way than playing out of tune. Sorry, Charley.
So there’s the chart. Learn it. Want one to print out? Take mine. Want just a few bullet points to remember? OK, fine:
Major thirds and minor sixths are 14 cents sharp on your tuner. To play them in tune you must lower the third 14 cents. 14 cents is a lot, so it’s time to limber up the golden pipes and get flexible.
Perfect fifths and fourths are only 2 cents out of tune on your tuner. That is undetectable to most people, so don’t sweat it. You’re cool.
The major sixth/minor third is super flat. If you are a reed player and you have the third in a minor chord you will probably need to resort to an uncomfortable amount of biting. Violins have it so easy.
The octave and the tritone are the only perfect intervals in both equal temperament and just intonation. Only one of these will be really useful though. I’ll let you guess which one.
The leading tone of a dominant chord is a lot sharper than your tuner says. Half steps are only 88 cents apart. If you try to tune the minor third between the seventh and the fifth of the chord you might just get there. The tritone between the seventh and the third is a lie.
Final point: knowing your instrument’s pitch tendencies is very important, don’t get me wrong. But the guessing game we call tuning gets a whole lot easier when you understand your tuner’s pitch tendencies first.
My good friend David MacDonald wrote on his blog about a piece of his that recently received its premiere. Dave was faced with providing some program notes for the audience. Dave claims that he doesn’t think of his music (or any music for that matter) in programmatic ways. In the comments I said this:
What I absolutely DO NOT WANT is for the composer to lie to me. If your piece isn’t about an escalator, then don’t make me think about one. If your piece IS about the hills of WV, then tell me so I can think about WV. Otherwise, call it by its Opus number or something so I am not distracted.
Dave and I jokingly banter this point back and forth, but my point is solid. Even if was was a musical illiterate I would not want to be misled regarding the composers intentions. I do not mind speculating about a composer’s intentions. In fact, I prefer it. The great Robert Frost once wrote:
O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud –
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Robert Frost: Choose Something Like a Star, 1947.
Give me something to think about further than putting the puzzle pieces together regarding how your work resembles racing cars or drunken sailors. Make me think about “why” and “what” not just “how”. Be obscure. It’s totally cool. I didn’t (not) buy a ticket to read your program notes or clever titles. I came to hear your music. I came to listen and think about what I heard. Tell me, using musical devices, what your piece is about. For the sake of everything that is good about the art we make, do not lie to me.
