Llassah’s superamazing history of music for slashers
(because omphlie- hee! okay,
omphale23 is talking about music, and that sort of gave me a kick up the figurative arse with regards to what I need to be doing)
Right, so, 24000 words in to the musician AU, and this is the first of what I suspect will be many posts about music, what it means to me, and why I can’t possibly ever tell you what it means to you.
Okay, so the title’s hyperbole, but there’s music, and there is reference to slash. The slash, well, I’m preaching to the choir. But with music, well, there are varying degrees of acquaintance with music here, as with society in general. And there’s also this frankly bizarre attitude that prevails with people with regards to music, the assumption that to enjoy so-called ‘higher’ forms of music requires a degree. There’s a fear of it, a sense of duty when listening to music that’s reserved for ‘The Ballet’, or ‘The Art’. ‘The Music’ is enshrined in myth and assumption, some of it perpetuated by those in the echelons who wish to maintain its prestige and status, and some of it perpetuated by people who listen to a concerto and feel that they should somehow know more about it in order to enjoy it. Unworthiness. Which is bullshit of the highest order.
You like a pop group because you like the way they sound, you like the headstones because of their incredibly twisty and cool lyrics, the way they use the bass, and of course, Hugh Dillon. There is no difference between the music of, say, Stravinsky, or Fall Out Boy. There are no types of music, only good music and bad music. You can like a piece of music simply because it sounds good, it makes you happy, it reminds you of something. Conversely, you have the right to not like a piece of music because it is poorly put together, reminds you of a really shitty time in your life, is played by an instrument you hate.
I love Voodoo in a deeply earnest, non ironic way, because the guitar bit at the beginning is fun, the sentiment of it is really cool, and I think Paul Gross has a really good voice to listen to. I also love The Lark Ascending, because it reminds me of spring, and has such sheer exuberance and joy within it is guaranteed to make me smile. The level of musical knowledge required to like these pieces? Zilch.
In the interests of full disclosure here, I play the cello and trumpet, and have passed grade 8 on both of them. I play piano, but that’s more for messing around than anything- I lack the coordination to get really good. I’ve played in orchestras etc since I was about 7, and studied music at A level. So-I love music, and have done for as long as I can remember, and I don’t think that the training I have had has made me love music any more, but it has given me the tools to understand why I love it, and given me the freedom to love a greater variety of music.
All you really need to know about music is that music is the manipulation of sound that has been deemed by its creator to be music. Whistling is music, a kid hitting the side of a saucepan is music, Yoko Ono coughing for a few minutes is music, 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence is, yes, you’ve guessed it, music.
Of course, this music has been written down, analysed, described using set terms but this is more for ease of conveyance than any mystification of it.
The rise in pitch of a note being given a corresponding rise in position on a piece of paper is the most rudimentary form of this. Everything stems from that- the pitch and length of the note. The five little lines on the page are a framework to judge this pitch, the barlines act as a marker of how far along you are in the piece. The appearance of the note itself tells you the length it is to be played for. The clef at the far left of the page is to provide different registers in which to place that pitch. The sharps and flats at the far left show when a note needs to be raised or lowered in order to fit into a key in which the composer has chosen to write. The number at the left shows how many beats are in which bar division before you move on to the next one, and what type of note they are. (Tablature for guitars and writing for percussion is different, and if you want that explained, please ask.) The geography of a piece is determined with repeat marks and little footnote things which direct the player either to an earlier point or a later point in the music. The number of lines of five on a musical score that have been bracketed together shows the number of instruments playing together.
Dynamics are how loud or soft you play, tempos (tempi, but that obfuscates the matter further, I’ll be gentle- besides, potata, potatum) are how fast, the other words at the top of the music tell you about the emotion and manner of the playing. Hairpins on their side mean an increase/decrease in volume, an arc over the notes means they are to be slurred, so they sound more joined together, and the player makes no articulation between the notes- no stopping in the sound using the tongue/bow/finger/voice. A dot over the note, or a staccato, means that the note is played to be separate from the next note, making it sound more spat out and detached- like the opposite of a slur. A straight line over the note means that the player leans on it more heavily, emphasising it.
And that’s a sheet of music. A way of getting the sound from the composer’s head to the performer’s hands/mouth/voice. Punctuated in the same way as writing. This doesn’t change, no matter what the genre- the Western methods of notation can be understood by performers of any style and background, provided they have learnt the system.
Right, the next essay will be on the different styles and periods of music. Please pull me up on anything I’ve got wrong- I’m still learning too, of course, and please please *please* ask me to explain anything that leaves you scratching your heads. The aim of these posts is to include, not to alienate.
omphale23 is talking about music, and that sort of gave me a kick up the figurative arse with regards to what I need to be doing)
Right, so, 24000 words in to the musician AU, and this is the first of what I suspect will be many posts about music, what it means to me, and why I can’t possibly ever tell you what it means to you.
Okay, so the title’s hyperbole, but there’s music, and there is reference to slash. The slash, well, I’m preaching to the choir. But with music, well, there are varying degrees of acquaintance with music here, as with society in general. And there’s also this frankly bizarre attitude that prevails with people with regards to music, the assumption that to enjoy so-called ‘higher’ forms of music requires a degree. There’s a fear of it, a sense of duty when listening to music that’s reserved for ‘The Ballet’, or ‘The Art’. ‘The Music’ is enshrined in myth and assumption, some of it perpetuated by those in the echelons who wish to maintain its prestige and status, and some of it perpetuated by people who listen to a concerto and feel that they should somehow know more about it in order to enjoy it. Unworthiness. Which is bullshit of the highest order.
You like a pop group because you like the way they sound, you like the headstones because of their incredibly twisty and cool lyrics, the way they use the bass, and of course, Hugh Dillon. There is no difference between the music of, say, Stravinsky, or Fall Out Boy. There are no types of music, only good music and bad music. You can like a piece of music simply because it sounds good, it makes you happy, it reminds you of something. Conversely, you have the right to not like a piece of music because it is poorly put together, reminds you of a really shitty time in your life, is played by an instrument you hate.
I love Voodoo in a deeply earnest, non ironic way, because the guitar bit at the beginning is fun, the sentiment of it is really cool, and I think Paul Gross has a really good voice to listen to. I also love The Lark Ascending, because it reminds me of spring, and has such sheer exuberance and joy within it is guaranteed to make me smile. The level of musical knowledge required to like these pieces? Zilch.
In the interests of full disclosure here, I play the cello and trumpet, and have passed grade 8 on both of them. I play piano, but that’s more for messing around than anything- I lack the coordination to get really good. I’ve played in orchestras etc since I was about 7, and studied music at A level. So-I love music, and have done for as long as I can remember, and I don’t think that the training I have had has made me love music any more, but it has given me the tools to understand why I love it, and given me the freedom to love a greater variety of music.
All you really need to know about music is that music is the manipulation of sound that has been deemed by its creator to be music. Whistling is music, a kid hitting the side of a saucepan is music, Yoko Ono coughing for a few minutes is music, 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence is, yes, you’ve guessed it, music.
Of course, this music has been written down, analysed, described using set terms but this is more for ease of conveyance than any mystification of it.
The rise in pitch of a note being given a corresponding rise in position on a piece of paper is the most rudimentary form of this. Everything stems from that- the pitch and length of the note. The five little lines on the page are a framework to judge this pitch, the barlines act as a marker of how far along you are in the piece. The appearance of the note itself tells you the length it is to be played for. The clef at the far left of the page is to provide different registers in which to place that pitch. The sharps and flats at the far left show when a note needs to be raised or lowered in order to fit into a key in which the composer has chosen to write. The number at the left shows how many beats are in which bar division before you move on to the next one, and what type of note they are. (Tablature for guitars and writing for percussion is different, and if you want that explained, please ask.) The geography of a piece is determined with repeat marks and little footnote things which direct the player either to an earlier point or a later point in the music. The number of lines of five on a musical score that have been bracketed together shows the number of instruments playing together.
Dynamics are how loud or soft you play, tempos (tempi, but that obfuscates the matter further, I’ll be gentle- besides, potata, potatum) are how fast, the other words at the top of the music tell you about the emotion and manner of the playing. Hairpins on their side mean an increase/decrease in volume, an arc over the notes means they are to be slurred, so they sound more joined together, and the player makes no articulation between the notes- no stopping in the sound using the tongue/bow/finger/voice. A dot over the note, or a staccato, means that the note is played to be separate from the next note, making it sound more spat out and detached- like the opposite of a slur. A straight line over the note means that the player leans on it more heavily, emphasising it.
And that’s a sheet of music. A way of getting the sound from the composer’s head to the performer’s hands/mouth/voice. Punctuated in the same way as writing. This doesn’t change, no matter what the genre- the Western methods of notation can be understood by performers of any style and background, provided they have learnt the system.
Right, the next essay will be on the different styles and periods of music. Please pull me up on anything I’ve got wrong- I’m still learning too, of course, and please please *please* ask me to explain anything that leaves you scratching your heads. The aim of these posts is to include, not to alienate.