Music and Hearing Loss

Most musicians only talk about hearing loss, almost superstitiously, when discussing Beethoven but it is a real concern for ALL musicians. Ear plugs are a good thing to keep in your music bag especially for piccolo players. I wear one in my right ear every time I play picc because after a day of playing without one, I can feel a (small and temporary so far, happily) difference in my hearing.
I tried out several different ear plugs to find one that would be comfortable while protecting my hearing without blocking it completely. For orchestral work, I have a small, cheap, rubber earplug that doesn't take much, if any, effort to get in and out so I can pop it in and out during short rests. But I use a foam one that takes some time to put in properly when I'm going to play with the plug for long stretches. It's comfy, stays put and since I won't be taking it out much, I'm willing to take the extra time getting it in place. I shop for cheap plugs because I do lose them from time to time and they tend to be smaller which works better for me. I don't use earplugs made for musicians because not only are they pricier, they are usually much too big and hurt my ear (I hate most earbuds for the same reason). But other folks may not have that trouble. Everyone is built different so an earplug that works perfectly for me may not work for you. Test them out!
Playing with the plug does change how things sound but it is possible to adapt to listening more with the other ear. Anytime I think I'll need an earplug for performance, I make sure to practice with it to be used to how the music sounds with the earplug. It felt odd at first but now I can adapt to the plug quite quickly. I recommend doing some work with a tuner while wearing the earplug just to get the feel of tuning with your other ear. I use a couple of different kinds of ear plugs that block sound to different degrees. When I’m playing with a loud, amplified group, I often mix and match plugs. I wear one that blocks less sound in the ear that is farthest from the loudest instrument in the group. It's not uncommon for the picc to be loudest (at least to me) but sometimes those amplified keyboard players don't realize just how loud their sound is.
But you can be sure, if the group decides to crank it up to 11, I pull out the heaviest plugs I have and make no apologies.

 

Sound Levels of Music
Normal piano practice	60 -70dB
Fortissimo Singer, 3'	70dB
Chamber music, small auditorium	75 - 85dB
Piano Fortissimo	84 - 103dB
Violin	82 - 92dB
Cello	85 -111dB
Oboe	95-112dB
Flute	92 -103dB
Piccolo	90 -106dB
Clarinet	85 - 114dB
French horn	90 - 106dB
Trombone	85 - 114dB
Tympani & bass drum	106dB
Walkman on 5/10	94dB
Symphonic music peak	120 - 137dB
Amplifier, rock, 4-6'	120dB
Rock music peak	150dB

NOTES:

• 90-95 dB is the level when sustained exposure may cause hearing loss. 125 dB is the level when pain begins. 140dB is the level when short term exposure may cause hearing loss.
• One-third of the total power of a 75-piece orchestra comes from the bass drum.
• High frequency sounds of 2-4,000 Hz are the most damaging. The uppermost octave of the piccolo is 2,048-4,096 Hz.
• Hypertension and various psychological difficulties can be related to noise exposure.
• The incidence of hearing loss in classical musicians has been estimated at 4-43%, in rock musicians 13-30%.

Chart on decibel levels from  www.gcaudio.com/resources/howtos/loudness.html

Emotional Tempos

Grave, Largo, Adagio, Andante, Moderato, Allegro, Vivace and Presto.

Every semester, my class memorizes this list of Italian tempo terms and the order they go in, slow to fast. And every semester I attempt to explain that these terms didn’t start out with exact speeds linked to them (that developed later) and that they are supposed to be moods, emotions and styles of music. These terms are often used as “names” of individual movements in larger pieces. You can see them listed on some metronomes. (If you're curious, the number on the metronome is the number of beats in one minute so 60 is the same as one beat a second, 120 is two beats in a second and so on.) In most Classical concerts, people see

       Sonata

             I. Allegro

             II. Adagio

             III. Presto

and, if they are lucky, they know that means this Sonata has 3 movements; a fast movement followed by a slow one and finally a VERY fast movement. But the story each term suggests, the overall feeling of the music, is largely ignored. And yes, there are yet more tempo terms but we'll stick with these to keep this post from getting too outrageously long.

Grave is the slowest marking, in theory. It means heavy, burdensome and serious. Now grave is not always slower than largo (the next one) but it should be darker in mood. I think of grave style as being somber with a lot of story or history behind each note and chord.

Largo is still very slow. But it means broad, wide, abundant and open. Think of this as laid back and taking things easy. I noticed that largos drift into the pompous fairly easily but they can also have a relaxed humor hiding in them.

Adagio is possibly the most commonly used term for slow. It’s dictionary definition is slowly and gently. Adagios run a wide range of emotions. Some are absolutely tragic (Barber’s Adagio for Strings), some are peaceful and sweet like a cheery lullaby. I think of them as having an inward focus, perfect for any music linked to contemplation.

Andante is considered a somewhat slow to medium speed. This term can be translated as continuous or unbroken. It suggests a smooth and flowing style of music to me.

Moderato is an in-between speed. It is often defined as walking speed which, if you think about it, is nearly the most obscure tempo marking possible. I have rarely found even two people who naturally walk at the same speed, even in marching bands! The dictionary defines it as moderate or middle of the road. Which can be seen as flexible. It can shift between thoughtful and cheerful easily. Moderatos are tricky to pin to one mood and are quite independent to my mind.

Allegro is fast. Some books say it is only moderately fast but you will find that allegros are quite likely to be played fast (maybe too fast). Since it also means cheerful, merry and joyful there is some logic behind this. Many people associate "up" moods with faster tempos. Since allegros are generally as optimistic as they can be, they get sped up.

Vivace is also fast. It is lively, brisk, brilliant and full of life. It is about showing energy, passion and life itself in music. Again, it is not uncommon for vivaces to get sped up a bit more than they should.

Presto is the fastest term in this list. It means quick, fast, soon, early or ready. The word prestito (not presto I know but similar) means borrow which musically could suggest “stealing” time from the next beat in order to go even faster. Prestos tend to be fairly friendly but they can edge into frantic or hectic without much effort. Frightening, alarming or chasing scenes work well as prestos too. Prestos also tend to make musicians swear a blue streak. Really, this marking shouldn’t be about playing so fast the audience can’t tell one instrument from another but create a sensation of motion that carries the audience along with it rather than leaving them lying in the dust.

The lines between Allegro, Vivace and Presto can get a little blurry. There is an element of "who can play it fastest" that sneaks into all these tempos. There is a similar issue with the slow tempos seeming all the same. This is partly because, as I said, these terms didn't start out with exact speeds and partly because when you remove the emotion these terms don't really mean that much. But emotion is an inescapable part of music which may be why people have trouble talking about music in our culture. It comes too close to discussing how we feel. Yet that is precisely why we love music. It does not hesitate to pour all its emotions out into the world for us to glory in.

When is a Flute Not a Flute?

In the Renaissance and Baroque, recorders and flutes were given the same musical lines in ensembles and were treated as interchangeable. They were even both called flutes and occasionally still are. But one look at them and you can see that they aren't the same. So which one is the flute? There is some disagreement about how to classify flutes but here is the explanation I prefer;
Flute can be used as a generic name for instruments like recorders, Native American flutes, ocarinas, transverse flutes and panpipes; basically any wind instrument that produces sound by splitting the air stream on an edge without using any reeds. These instruments do not all sound exactly the same but they do all have a clear tone that is distinctly different from the reed instruments, such as clarinets and oboes. This makes our old friend the concert or transverse flute (most often called flute) just one kind of flute.

Transverse flute, concert flute, traverso or German flute.

There are two different ways that the air is directed to the edge to be split. In one group the player must use their lips to direct the air to the edge that will divide it. This means the mouth-piece is at least partly formed from the player's own lips. This is how instruments like concert flutes, panpipes and rim-blown flutes work. (For more on rim-blown flutes, see Mythical Jacuaflute.)
In the second group the player blows into a hole and the mouthpiece directs the breath to an edge that divides the air and sound emerges. This includes instruments like recorders, ocarinas and Native American style flutes.











Recorders use a "fipple" mouthpiece (the notch near the top) 
to divide the air and create sound. The recorder is also called
Blockflote, common flute, or English flute.




There is, of course, more to it than that but this is the simple explanation of the two main ways flutes create sound. Some people argue that instruments like recorders and Native American flutes are not really flutes because the player does not direct the air stream to the edge that splits it. But that argument ignores the similar sound quality and historical uses of the instruments. Please note that the recorder and Native American flutes are by no means easier to play, they just use a different technique to direct breath to the edge that splits the air than the concert flute.
To sum up; recorders, panpipes, piccolos and so on are all specific kinds of flute but if you just say flute with no qualifier, people will generally assume you mean the concert or transverse flute.

Now for some information on the moods and uses of these different instruments.

Recorders, like most Medieval instruments, are made in many different sizes, partly to expand the range and partly to imitate different human voices. The recorder has a softer, more “vocal” sound than the flute but it also has less variety in the kinds of sound it can produce. It can produce some trills and ornaments easier than the concert flute and some melodies "fit" the fingerings it uses much more easily than the concert flute (and of course some don't.) Playing in different keys or scales is trickier on the recorder but each scale has a unique personality that is less present on the concert flute. The recorder is used to imitate birds, for pastoral settings and cheerful dances. However, J. S. Bach used the simplicity of the recorder's sound to show religious devotion and the acceptance of death.

The concert flute is brighter, louder and has a larger range than the recorder. It eventually replaced the recorder's role in the orchestra but as a solo instrument it remained highly suspect. Through the 1800's, male flute players were assumed to be using their music to seduce young women. It was only recently that it became acceptable for women to play the concert flute at all. (Of course, this just meant that "unacceptable" women played flute, not that women didn't play flute.) Concert flutes are used to represent birds, water (the sea, rain, streams) and nature scenes (meadows, mountains, dawn and country villages.) It is also used for sorrow, laments and loss along with the violin.

The piccolo is descended from the fife which was used for marching and battle signals since its high range cuts through other sounds and carries over distances. (The fife actually has a longer history than the concert flute in Europe.) The picc is still used for military moods but it is also used for calm peaceful scenes by playing in octaves with other instruments. It represents birds and pastoral settings but then turns around and takes the role of storms, lightning, fireworks and fire in general.
The alto flute is considered darker or more moody than the concert flute. It is used in programmatic music about the sea, myths (especially South American myths), sacrifices and in general for eerie settings. It also has a long history of accompanying vocal music. 

The Native American flute was used for love songs meant to lure a girl out of her home (not too different from the reputation of the Concert Flute in Europe really.) In some legends, the Sun and Moon are created and brought to life by a pair of flute players. The Native American flute is thought to bring rain, crops and generally encourage fertility. Not surprisingly, this flute is used to imitate birds and for nature scenes, especially deserts and wide open spaces but it goes with forest scenes, too.

Rim-blown flutes are still fairly unfamiliar to most Western listeners but they can be found around the world. Most of my friends have trouble grasping how these flutes even work at first and I'm still learning about the shear variety of them. The Ancestor Pueblo/Anasazi flutes from the Southwest, the Middle Eastern ney, the Japanese shakuhachi, the South American quena and the Hopi flute are just a few. The music they are used for varies just as widely. I'm sure I'll learn more as I explore these instruments.

Nearly all the different kinds of flutes are used to show song, flight, nature, seduction, innocence and the loss of it. Storms, stress, fire and energy run alongside themes of water, peace and deep contentment. They speak, dance and enchant. They are charming, startling and mysterious. They are the flight of the soul in music.

The Flute Book by Nancy Toff
The Flute by Ardal Powell

For a more detailed break down of different flute designs see flutopedia classifications

Dyslexic Tutoring

When I was in Grad school, I worked as a teacher’s assistant for a couple of music theory classes. This mostly involved answering questions about homework, grading homework and occasionally pointing out that a homework assignment was too confusing for the class to handle. One semester, there was a student with several learning disabilities in the class. After talking with the teacher, she asked about the possibility of getting a tutor for the class through a program the school had in place for students with learning issues. We agreed since we didn’t want her to be downgraded for having trouble writing notes on the correct lines and spaces when she knew the answer. The school's program didn’t have a music theory tutor at the time so I told her that I was willing. She was very nervous about this until I told her that while I don’t have the same issues she did, I am dyslexic and do understand about learning difficulties in general. Then she was delighted.

I was fascinated to see the areas of music reading that tripped her up, even more because they were so different from the ones I had trouble with. She was thrilled to have a tutor who had personal experience with learning issues. Most of the tutoring involved looking over her homework and making sure what she wrote was what she meant, not very taxing for me but a huge help for her. But she had some interesting times learning some of the music theory concepts as well. I shared one or two of our discussions about intervals and chords with the teacher and he incorporated some of our thoughts in his lectures for the class. He was quite interested in all the different ways we were looking at the material and commented on how it opened up his view of learning music theory. Of course, he was a good teacher to start with and was always looking for new ways of presenting material but it was very rewarding for both of us to hear that.

Her biggest difficulty with the homework was writing the music down. She knew where all the notes went but she just couldn’t get the notes onto the right lines and spaces. 

Three different versions of the same chord.

 Lines and spaces make all the difference.

My problems were always more connected to reading what was actually written (words rather than music) so we both were very interested in talking with someone who had basically the opposite issue. It worked out quite well since she could tell me where to write the notes and get credit for the material she knew. We also discussed what she would have to do if she continued on to write music in the future. Computer programs that print music, different colored lines on the music staff and so on but at the time, that wasn't necessary.

Teaching is, in many ways, the ultimate learning method. Everyone I know who teachers comments on how many things they understand more fully after they have taught them. This is not to say you can't learn without teaching but the act of passing knowledge on to someone else turns that information around inside your head in truly remarkable ways. Even understanding your own learning issues works that way. Talking and teaching others with twists in their brains made me look at how I handled my own quirks and come up with new ways to make sense of the material. For myself and others.

Lullaby's Creation

All that exists remakes creation by existing. The painter, the sculptor, the gardener, the builder all transform the universe with their tales. The rock, the flower, the ice, the air redefine the world and stories they touch. This is just one of many stories that can be enjoyed or ignored as pleases.

Long before long ago could even exist, all of creation - all that is, all that was and all that may be - still lay wrapped tight within itself. Here, in this time that is not, all creation slept. A deep dreamless sleep where all awareness dissolves into the stuff that feeds the soul. But as always happens, when the soul is fed, dreams began. And within the dreams Creation met sensation for the first time. Through sensation, Creation learned to understand itself and all that was around it within the dream, for within the dream all is understood or if not understood then accepted as if it was well known. In this acceptance, Creation learned meaning and even language but only in the dream where logic twists itself into tangled spirals. And even now, that first learning still runs through all of creation’s understanding of itself and spins tiny knots into all reason and order.

Wild Raspberry Buds

But then, creation began to wake.
And for all its learning of dreams, creation had never experienced itself when awake. In the waking, creation found itself as lost as it had been at the start of the dream, now long forgotten. All experience was equally startling, joy and sorrow as overwhelming as a drop of water and grain of sand. All the colors exploded, smells wove together, taste drowned the horizon, sound cracked atoms and touch brought the world to an end or so it seemed. And then, slowly, creation began to notice something. It was more comforting than shade in summer, tasted more decadent than black raspberries, smelled more enticing than wine and was softer than flower petals. It was the lullaby. As creation listened, it began to realize it knew this music. It had been hearing this tune for longer than it could remember, longer even than it had been dreaming. Listening to this lullaby brought a sweeter comfort than creation could imagine or even knew how to long for and brought all of creation’s sharp, new sensations into a kind of order.

And then, creation stretched. 
As it stretched, creation realized that each section of itself heard the music differently, a note here, a hold there, with timbres shifting and rolling against each other. Each move creation made changed how a part of creation heard the lullaby and how all of creation fit the lullaby together. And as each change added to how the music could be heard, creation discovered harmony and began to find the meaning that it thought it had left in the dream. So creation began to unfold and coil round and round itself to hear all the infinite changes, and at that moment made a decision. Dream knowledge said there was no end to the changes in the music or creation itself and that this variety of self and lullaby would bring joy in the deepest sorrow.

Berry Canes and Echinacea

So creation made a decision to create as many possibilities as it could find within itself so that it could always hear the lullaby anew. And still to this very day, that line of music, that infinite diversity, that touch of chaos, that bit of dream wisdom runs through all of creation as a gift of joy that is given to all that is, all that was and all that may be.

Views from the Pit

I love playing in pit orchestras. The combination of musicians, actors, tech folk and dancers working together creates something intense and larger than life. Even shows that we don't like as much as others have a pull to them. It’s fascinating how the mistakes we make (and we all make them) are usually absorbed and masked by the show as a whole. Ask the audience about a dropped note or skipped line and they usually are amazed to learn the mistake happened at all.

The View from the Pit

Focus and Relaxation

There is a delicate balance between staying focused and trusting yourself to know the show. My mantra when my attention wanders is “stay here.” But I am just as likely to mean “let the music roll along” as “focus on each note with the intensity of preparing for a private lesson.” All the dress rehearsals and repeated performances create little grooves in your brain after awhile. Right about the point when the orchestra starts reciting the actors’ lines to each other, there is a shift in how the group plays the music. It becomes like a lazy game of catch played with filmy scarves rather than a tense game of baseball with the strings and the winds competing with each other for the fewest mistakes.

Strength and Flexibility

This year, I hurt my hand about a week before one of the shows I was playing. The injury had the odd effect of turning my hand from a palm with 5 independent fingers that could create many, many combinations into a single lump that could barely function as a flat palm. The lack of independence and flexibility were harder to cope with than the loss of strength. And I realized the strength in my hand was directly connected to the flexibility in a way I hadn’t ever noticed before. Fortunately, one of the earliest positions that my hand could handle was the one I needed to hold the flute and what’s more, I didn’t have to support the weight of the flute with that hand in order to play. Each night, my hand was more flexible which made my hand stronger and playing got easier.

Familiarity and Trust

I had to miss a couple of early rehearsals, so I had to trust my knowledge of the show rather than practicing the tricky passages. Since I have played this show for several years, this was less stressful than it might have been but it was still a very different experience than I am used to. Trusting the rest of the group to catch me if my fingers slipped, trusting myself to remember what I had done previous years and sitting back and letting the music happen is not as easy as it sounds.

On the last day of the show, just as I was getting back to normal, the clarinet player got very ill and couldn’t play. The substitute turned out to be my band teacher from junior high school. We hadn’t ever played our instruments together much but we were familiar with each other’s nonverbal cues which turned out to be the best possible thing. We sailed through the music in fine shape, meshing the intense focus she was using on sight-reading during a performance and the relaxed trust I had in my familiarity with how our parts worked together.

Focus, relaxation, strength, flexibility and trust. Five independent actions that work together to create far more than they could separately.

Sirens the Muses of the Underworld

On the ceiling of an early temple for Apollo in Delphi (were the Muses once lived) were the Keledones, the “soothing Goddesses.” They were three living, singing statues of women or wryneck birds or a mix of both who welcomed worshipers with their music.
They had the same skill with song as the Sirens.

Entwining Voices

The Sirens tangled people up with their words and music. They had the wings of birds. Or the legs of birds. Or the bodies of birds. But they always have lovely faces and entrancing voices. They dart about on the edges of reality like fragments of old stories that have escaped their meanings. They were born from the earth. They are sea nymphs. They charm the wind.

They are surrounded by flowers. They turn white as bone. They died when Orpheus helped the Argonauts pass them safely. They died when Odysseus took Circe’s advice to pass them tied to a mast. They sing like the Muses who wear their feathers. Hera introduced them to the Muses. They nest in Hera’s hands. They follow Artemis’s lead. Aphrodite gave them wings. Demeter took their wings. Demeter gave them wings. They serve Persephone. Their music causes obsession. Their music erases fear.

Like the Muses, the Sirens are singing bird women linked to water with changeable names, numbers, instruments and homes. They put secrets and unbreakable charms into song and they gathered flowers with Persephone. Three different Muses are called the Sirens’ mother: Terpsichore the dancing Muse, Melpomene the tragic Muse and Kalliope the epic Muse. The name of another Muse, Achelois, becomes the group title of the Sirens, the Acheloides, when they are daughters of the river God Achelous. One Siren and one Muse even have the same name, Thelxinoe “the enchantress” or “heart’s delight.”

Earth, Water and Air

The Sirens have roots in the sky, the sea and the earth. In older genealogies, they are children of a river and the earth or another river and a sky woman. The story goes that Heracles and Achelous, a shape-shifting river God, once fought each other for days. They were fighting over who would marry Deianeira or for possession of the cornucopia, the horn of plenty that Amaltheia used to feed baby Zeus. Hercules tore off one of Achelous’s horns and the blood of the fish-tailed God fell onto the earth, Gaia. The Sirens sprang up from the blood-soaked ground, mirroring the birth of Aphrodite and the Furies. But others say their father is the Acheron river and their mother is Sterope, a name also used by one of the Pleiades and a daughter of the sun.
Later, they became daughters of the sea God Phorcus/Phorcys, “the hidden dangers of the deep.” They sit on islands named for flowers with rocky shores and rapid waters that rush musically, singing and calling. Sailors say if anyone hears them and survives, the Sirens will turn to stone or die, raising the question of how the sailors knew the Sirens existed in the first place. Others say when the Sirens lost their contest with the Muses, they fell into the sea and became islands of white rock covered in wild flowers.

The Sirens have two more sets of parents. In the sky are Zeus and

Hera, the God of thunder and the Queen of heaven whose mane of hair stretches across the storm clouds. Closer to the ground are Dionysus and Coronis. Dionysus is a hidden earthly version of Zeus. Coronis is a nymph who may disguise Hera when mentioning the old Goddess by name would reveal far too many buried secrets. Hera once coaxed the Sirens into a song contest with the Muses. When the Sirens lost, they turned white, once again mirroring the Furies. The Muses took the Sirens’ wing feathers to weave into crowns; for inspiration perhaps. Yet after all this, Hera still appears holding the Sirens in her hands, honoring her inspiring little song birds.

Names, Names, Names

Single Sirens are unnamed aulos or lyre players. Their solos echo calls to initiation mysteries.

As pairs, the Sirens create harmonies with the aulos and the lyre. Their various names refer to glory or splendor and enchantment; Aglaopheme of the “splendid voice,” Aglaophonos the “glorious sounding,” Thelxiope who is “persuasive,” Thelxiepeia of the “enchanting words” and Thelchtereia the “soothing watcher or enchantress.”
Siren trios play aulos and lyre and sing in a mixed consort of traditions. They are the daughters of the Muse Melpomene and the horned river God Achelous, but there are two different versions of these three. One set of triplets have names that Aphrodite would approve: Peisinoe the “seductive”, Aglaope the “glorious voice” and Thelxinoe the “enchanting voice.” The other three sisters have names that Artemis might claim: Ligeia the “bright voice,” Leucosia the “white Goddess/substance,” and Parthenope the “virginal/maiden voice.”  It cannot be a coincidence that Aphrodite gave the Sirens wings when they said they wanted to be virgins, like Artemis, forever. Parthenope in particular seems to cross the boundary between these two differing Goddesses. At her tomb, torch races were held in her honor every year, a tradition of Artemis and Hecate. And she was a bird Goddess in her own right, sharing Aphrodite’s doves and swans.
The Sirens also gather in flocks, promising to tell all the stories in the world, if you will just stop your life for a moment or two. Some borrow the earlier names and others add yet more names to the list. Peisthoe the “seductive”, Pisinoe who “affects the mind,” Teles who is “perfection,” Raidne who “improves" or "sprinkles water,” Himerope whose “voice creates desire” and Molpe and her “song and dance” all spin round each other like feathers in a breeze.
And Plato tells us that there are eight Sirens, named for the scale tones, who each sing one note in perfect harmony with the spheres of the sky. The star loving Centaurs forgot to eat and starved when they heard these Sirens turning the secrets of the universe into music.

Soothing Sirens

Persephone, the Muses and the Sirens grew up together. When Persephone was carried off by Hades, the Sirens asked Demeter for wings so they could search the world for their friend. But when the Sirens wouldn’t or couldn’t tell Demeter where her daughter had gone, she bound them to the earth Persephone had vanished into.
Yet after all this, the Sirens settled into places of honor in front of Persephone’s throne. They used their music to ease the fear and pain of death and guide underworld travelers through the maze of their own souls. Persephone even sent the Sirens flying back out into the world, their wings fuller than ever, carrying her blessings. And whispers began that their true mother was Chthonia, “the depths of the earth,” bringing us back round to the story of the Sirens springing out of Gaia, the earth itself.

The Sirens are the Muses who inspire Muses. The ones who make the music of the earth, sky and sea. They are the overwhelming, uncontrollable side of inspiration that awes and terrifies us. They created the steps of the scale and accidentals. They are the sweetest possible antidote to loss, sorrow and fear of the unknown.

Nest and Red Buds

see The Muse Contest for more on the Muses.

Sources:
Ovid's Metamorphoses
Hesiod's Theogony
Women of Classical Mythology by Robert E. Bell
The Gods of the Greeks by Kerenyi
Theoi.com

Female Musicians in History

Lately, more attention has been given to women in music history but nearly all of it has been on the composers. So here's a little about the performers.

Ladies and respectable women were not supposed to play music in public during various times in history, including the Renaissance. But that doesn't mean women only played music for their families. The two ideas that influenced whether a woman could play for an audience were her social class and what was considered a public performance.

Social Class and Private Concerts

First off, it was the women of the upper classes who were most restricted when making music in public. For women of the lower classes, it was another story. There are quite a few records of amateur female musicians, and nearly all the words for musician had female variants, which tells us in no uncertain terms that women were traveling and court musicians. Trobairitz were upper class poet musicians in France; menestrelles and jongleresses were wandering minstrels and entertainers in France; gliewmedens were traveling musicians in England -- just to list a few. Occupations were closely linked to family, so if a woman came from a family of musicians, she could easily be expected to learn to sing, play or write music to help support the family. If a woman played music as part of a group, especially one made up of her relatives, it was more acceptable than playing alone. In addition, there were a number of groups made up of all women that achieved widespread fame. They were more likely to gain musical acknowledgement if they had a high ranking patron (the Concerto delle Donne in Renaissance Italy is one famous group) but female groups certainly existed outside the courts of Kings and Dukes as well.

Next we have to understand how public vs. private was perceived at the time. Playing on the street for anyone who happened to be walking by was public and very risky for any female musician (and not so good for male musicians for that matter). But inviting 20 or 200 people from the “right” social class to a concert in someone’s home or court (and the occasional concert hall) was usually just fine. Even if a woman was playing. The real issue was who was going to be watching. Restricting the audience to the upper classes made it much more acceptable for women to play. It also made it more acceptable for the upper classes to listen to a lower class musician, male or female. Many male musicians owed their careers to these concerts and the female patrons who often ran them. A number of these “private” concerts became the unofficial centers of politics and government.

The other group of female musicians to be considered are the women labeled as courtesans. Courtesans in general were a class of women who were certainly not respectable, but still associated with the upper classes regularly. They were expected to be accomplished in music and art and able to hold their own in educated discussions. Female musicians could be labeled as courtesans to make it clear that they were skilled musicians and give them the ability to mingle with the upper classes even if they did not offer other services. But that courtesan label was not always very easy to live with and made it clear that female musicians were not respectable even when they were honored for their music. But to be fair, most male musicians were not thought of as respectable either.

Vocalists and Instrumentalists
Female singers in general were given a little more wiggle room simply because their voices couldn’t be replaced. Countertenors, boy sopranos and castrati were popular and could sing in the same range as women and were used for female roles at times, but their voices just weren’t the same and music fans knew this. And singing, in general, was given more respect than playing an instrument, so exceptions could be made for vocalists that would not be allowed for instrumentalists.

Just like today, various instruments were considered more feminine than others, although the rules about what made an instrument feminine were quite different. Women were steered away from any instrument that required “facial or physical contortions” which lets out nearly all the winds and brass and many percussion instruments. Flutes and cellos were right out; recorders and harps were iffy. Keyboards, small lutes and any instrument that allowed women to sit in “ladylike” positions while playing were much more acceptable. Not too surprisingly, quite a few women went ahead and learned the instrument they wanted to play in spite of these rules. There were many, many papers and treatises lecturing women for playing the “wrong” instruments.

Today's Renaissance Women making music at the Faire

Women were strongly discouraged from playing brass. Liza/Andrew of the Gaelic Brass finds it easier to cross dress than explain why a woman is leading a brass ensemble for the Mayor and Court. A tactic used throughout history.

Gwyneth the Feral Flute. One argument used against women playing wind instruments was that their clothing made breathing difficult. Many women at the Ren Fest modify our costumes in some way (one-size larger than standard, strategic lacings left loose, etc.) so that we can breathe properly. We have basically chosen music over fashion.

Ivy of Vespaer and Ivy on drum. Drum has shifted wildly over the years from men to women. Generally, the larger or more important the percussion is to the music, the more likely it was for a woman to have trouble being allowed to play.

Dulcinea. The dulcimer was one of the more approved ladies instruments although some cultures considered it too rustic for upper class women.

Apryl Knight of the Tulstin Troubadours with the psaltery and Matty Striker with the cittern. The cittern was the go to instrument in the Renaissance, similar to how the guitar is used today.

Sally Tenpenny and Apryl Knight tuning up. Guitars were more likely to be considered a man's instrument than a woman's. But guitars developed from lutes and small lutes were among the accepted instruments for women to play in many times.

Vespaer rockin' the guitar.

Learning music was often a requirement for a basic education, but making music for a living was seriously frowned upon. Male or female, musicians had something of a shady reputation even when people couldn’t live without having a personal musician working for them. Women often found it easier to step out of the spotlight to some degree by choosing their audience carefully, playing with a group or supporting other musicians. But others found that stage irresistible and proceeded to prove their musical right to be there.

Achoo! Hack hack!

Sneezing, coughing and hiccups. These are things that musicians may discuss among themselves but are usually not mentioned in books on how to play. Even though learning to deal with involuntary burps and coughs is vital for all wind players. (All the 10-year-olds out there will love knowing that you can usually play right through a belch, making them the least of your worries.)

The overall advice is actually very simple: play till you can’t, don’t lose the beat and go right back to playing as soon as you can. This works fine for simple dry sneezes but if you play outside and have ragweed allergies, keep a handkerchief in easy reach and be prepared to deal with missing a few notes or even a phrase. All the “ah-ah-ah” parts of the sneeze can usually still be played through although your tone may not be its best. The “choo” part will interrupt you, no way around that, so be ready to jump back in right after that last blast.

Hiccups are trickier. There is next to nothing you can do to reduce the impact they have on your breath and playing. All you can do is keep a steady beat, keep going and joke with the audience about the “rests” you added. There is a silver lining, at least for me. Something about how I breathe while playing usually prevents the hiccups from happening at all or cures them better than all the folk cures about water and surprises. For some odd reason, I can only make this work when I am actually playing the flute though. Just breathing the way I do while playing when I have the hiccups doesn’t help in everyday situations. Ah well.

Coughing. I saved the worst for last. Coughing is a problem because the more I suppress a cough, the worse the need to cough gets and the longer I will have to cough once I start. Suppressing a cough can also lead to tears running down my face which is quite distracting for all concerned. Another problem is that waiting to cough till a rest may mean I am coughing during another performer's solo, a big no-no. So if I have a rest coming up (soon!) that is not quiet or the piece is nearly over, I will try to suppress the cough till then but otherwise, it is better to stop playing and cough right away. The interruption is usually shorter and less severe.

One last tip is to keep a little water nearby for sipping cures of hiccups and soothing of the throat after coughing or sneezing. Other than that, all you can do is keep calm and play on.

The Muse Contest

Bees were called the birds of the Muses.
Honey was mixed with milk or water or grains of wheat as offerings to the Muses.

The Muses had several musical contests but only one was against another group of Muses. The two sets of Muses in this story were the 9 Olympian Muses and the 7 or 9 Muses of Pieria.

The Olympian Muses are the nine daughters of the Titan Mnemosyne, the Goddess of memory, names and language, and Zeus. They are the most widely known Muses today, but it took them quite some time to become the dominant version in Greek myth. The Romans assigned specific poetry, music and images to them but were not always consistent about it. They were all pictured with a lyre at one time or another.

1) Kalliope/Calliope, “of the beautiful voice,” is the Muse of epic or heroic songs. She leads the other Muses and plays the trumpet. She travels with leaders to inspire justice and thought. She settled the argument between Persephone and Aphrodite over Adonis.

Kalliope/Calliope is sometimes pictured with a scroll (book) and stylus (pen) or holding a laurel crown and the Homeric scrolls. In Renaissance times, she played the harp or lute.

2) Kleio/Cleo, “the giver of fame,” became the Muse of history poems. She spread the use of the alphabet and plays the trumpet. She is my pick for a Muse of brass instruments.

Kleio/Cleo is sometimes pictured with a chest of scrolls/books or a water clock.

3) Thaleia, “the festive or blooming,” can be found at the theater watching a comedy when she isn’t off with her other sisters, the Graces. She teaches geometry, architecture and agriculture. She invented the plectrum, used to strum the lyre.

Thaleia is sometimes pictured with a comedy mask, shepherd’s staff and ivy wreath. In Renaissance times, she played the rebec (early violin) or viol (stringed and bowed instrument that isn’t a violin).

4) Melpomene, “the singer,” prefers tragedies and elegies. She creates chants and plays the hunting horn.

Melpomene is sometimes pictured with a tragedy mask, sword, a wreath of ivy or cypress and wearing actors’ boots. In Renaissance times, she played the bass viol.

5) Euterpe, “the giver of joy,” is the Muse of instrumental music. She plays the aulos, a double-reed instrument. She loves wind instruments, lyric poetry and education.

Euterpe is sometimes pictured with the aulos or surrounded by many instruments. In Renaissance times, she played the flute or other woodwind instruments.

6) Terpsichore, who “enjoys dancing,” plays the lyre and dances. She loves large choruses in plays and education. She is occasionally the Muse of stringed instruments.

Terpsichore is sometimes pictured dancing, wearing a laurel wreath or holding a lyre. In Renaissance times, she played the cittern or large lute.

7) Erato as the “awakener of desire” claimed erotic poetry, wedding music and dances that entice or require pairs. A prophetic priestess of Pan shares her name.

Erato is sometimes pictured wearing a rose wreath or holding a lyre or jingle ring. In Renaissance times, she played the cittern.

8) Polyhymnia/Polymnia, “many hymns,” is best known for her sacred hymns and mimic arts. But through a link with Demeter, she is also the divine prostitute, the one who grants love to all. She makes the rules of grammar and teaches geometry and agriculture.

Polyhymnia/Polymnia was sometimes pictured wearing a veil or cloak. In Renaissance times, she played the organ or clavichord.

9) Ourania, the “heavenly one,” makes predictions by watching the stars and invented astronomy. Aphrodite took Ourania’s name as one of her titles: Aphrodite Ourania “the Heavenly Aphrodite,” the merciful one who dances to the music of the spheres.

Ourania is sometimes pictured with a compass and star globe. In Renaissance times, she kept time on a drum or gong.

At first, every village or kingdom had its own local Muses. Since Pieria is thought to be the place the more organized cult of the Muses began, the seven Muses of Pieria may have been a quite early group. (Confusingly, they are sometimes called the Muses of Lesbos, but Pieria is much more common.) Finding more information about them however, is not easy. Even the meanings of their names have to be pieced together from other myths. Their mother is a nymph named Antiope or Euippe. The name Euippe is closely related to Hera Hippia and Athena Hippia, the horse Goddesses. Their father Pierus is named for the land of Pieria itself. The seven Muses are named Rhodia, Asopo, Neilo, Achelois, Tritone, Heptapora and Tipoplo and their number matches the seven mitochondrial Eves, the genetic mothers of the human race.

1) Rhodia is rose or rose garland or perhaps hibiscus or some other red to pink flower. Two sunny nymphs, Rhodos and Rhode, have very similar names. Some believed Rhodos was the same as Athena Hippia, and Rhode’s mother was sometimes the ocean nymph Polyphe, “of much thought.”

2) Asopo, “never silent,” is a river name. It may also mean “clever in all ways.”

3) Neilo may mean river and/or relate to the river Nile.

4) Achelois, “washes away pain,” is the name of a moon Goddess who was given offerings at the oracle of Dodona.

5) Tritone is three. Tritones are the sea creatures who look like the sea God Triton, the conch shell player. By coincidence, tritone is the name of the most famous interval in modern music theory, the augmented 4^th or diminished 5^th, the mid-point of the octave.

6) Heptapora is another river name, possibly one with seven springs, streams or paths.

7) Tipoplo, very tentatively, may be a bird call.

In later myths, Pierus is a mortal king who had nine daughters, instead of seven. He claimed his daughters sang as well as the more famous Muses, or he named them after the nine daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus. Whether he did this out of pride or by order of an oracle depends on which story you read. Regardless, his daughters were worshiped as the true Muses of Pieria. Before long, they challenged, or were challenged by, the nine Olympian Muses to a singing contest, which was judged by the nymphs or nature itself. The music of the contest caused the Helicon mountain to rise up into the sky until, finally, Poseidon sent Pegasus to stomp on the mountain. Springs leapt up where the winged-horse’s hooves touched the ground and the Muses were worshiped at these springs. The singing daughters of Pierus, meanwhile, were declared the losers and changed into birds, either magpies or nine different birds: the grebe, the wryneck, the ortolan (or hawk/kestrel), the jay, the green finch, the gold finch, the duck, the woodpecker, and the dracontis pigeon.

About those birds…

The translations of the nine birds are a little uncertain. For the birders out there and for those who just like this kind of puzzle, here are the Greek bird names.

1) Colymbas/Kolymbus means shrub and may be the grebe.

2) Iynx is the wryneck and also means spell or charm.

3) Cenchris is a kind of serpent and may be the hawk, kestrel or ortolan bunting.

4) Cissa/Kissa is the jay. Also a genus of magpies.

5) Chloris means green, may be the green finch and is used for many green birds. It is also the name of the flower Goddess who created the first rose.

6) Acalanthis/Akalanthis may be the gold finch, linnet or warbler.

7) Nessa means descending from above and may be the duck.

8) Pipo is the woodpecker.

9) Draconitis/Drakonitis is some uncertain type of bird.

Of course, anyone who enters a contest with the Gods is transformed. Some stories say it’s a reward; others that it’s a punishment. But there is no doubt that coming face to face with a God and showing exactly what you can do, exactly who you are, will change you deeply and leave you marked by having met Them. In this case, changing singers into birds, who spend their lives singing...well I leave you to decide precisely what that means.
For more on the other groups of Muses (yes, there are more), see Many Muses


Ovid's Metamorphoses
Hesiod's Theogony
Women of Classical Mythology by Robert E. Bell
The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony by Roberto Calasso
The Gods of the Greeks by Kerenyi
Theoi.com

Busking Thoughts

Busking is exhausting, too hot or too cold, noisy and the audience is often small. So why do I like it so much?
For one thing it inspires new music. When I first started busking, I played a lot of folk tunes, old troubadour music or Renaissance tunes. I've always liked how these tunes seemed to be related and the fit in at Festivals wonderfully. Plus the improvisations and variations I came up with made it possible to play one tune for a longer time without boring myself (or my audience!) It was a startling short hop from there to simply playing music I created from scratch. Not everything was wonderful but it is thrilling to know people were willing to listen to a tune I created. The more time I spent busking the more I improvised on my own musical ideas. The more I did this, the more I liked the music I created and before long I had a long list of original tunes I was trying to remember.
Then of course I busk because I love to play. And I like seeing people smile when they hear the music even if they don't stop. I feel like I'm doing my tiny part to add creativity and maybe even beauty to people's everyday lives, something there should always be more of.

In many ways busking is an endurance activity. Even when you only have a short time to play in, you have to keep the energy and music moving the whole time. There is no off-stage to duck into, even when you can take a break. The more involved I am in the music, the easier it is to keep the show going. When the music changes and is new, I can (and do!) stay enthusiastic about playing till I drop.

Mixing up the music I play, my own, folk, Classical and anything I've just wandered into is what keeps busking closer to a game than work. And nothing is quite as exciting as putting the flute to my face and discovering what I’m about to play along with the audience.

Rain Spell

Earlier this summer, back in the “cooler” part of the heat wave, my grandmother said this year was reminding her of the Dust Bowl days of her childhood. In the evenings, she and her siblings would lie by the window in their room while my great-grandfather sprayed the outside wall with the garden hose. The mist came in through the screen and the water pattered over them, as cool as a tune. When it gets so hot the sweat makes the flute slide right out of my hands, I selfishly want to go listen to other people play or find somewhere cool, drink something well iced and read about how music can change the weather.

            The drums, of course, are thunder. They can call it up or back it down. They speak to the sky in its own language, murmuring and rumbling or pounding and rolling. The flute is the lightning. Its melody line climbs up to the sky till it touches the clouds with one clear high note. Then in one sharp flash that lights the world up as bright as day, tumbles down upon itself into its low dark register. The two together make an old, powerful mix. Even when they try to out play each other, the rhythm and melody never quite leave each other behind, though they may overwhelm the dancers and audience. But what else would you expect from a musical storm?

            The violin’s strings and bow meet and cross, building up energy. The sound leaps out, fierce as any breeze from clashing fronts. Played to add water weight to clouds, those tense little strings draw out rich soothing tones and flashes of color, bright as lightning. The hollow body echoes as long as any thunder clap.

The tambourine, now, is a mini storm front all by itself. The tap, tap, tapping and the rattle and crash of the jingles builds up to wilder patterns, calling in the wind front that pushes all the dry thirsty leaves out in front of it. It’s a dancer’s instrument, meant to be played by hand strikes and body movement equally as they spin, leap and work themselves into a moving trance.

Whistling can call up the winds, especially outdoors. All those little skipping tunes make the wind want to show off its own skill. Meanwhile, a flute played indoors can cause rain. And once the rain tumbles down, I think, how sweet it will be to settle down and play a tune with the most unruly accompaniment in the world chattering away on the roof. Each tiny note from the wind chimes makes me long for just one more, and just one more…The leaves are rattling like Halloween on the trees, applauding each breeze with a standing ovation worthy of the finest virtuoso ever to grace a stage. Demanding just one more encore.

The cicada singers have taken over the chorus role, like they do every year. But even they wouldn’t mind being spelled a day or so by the voices of the rain barrels bubbling and filling. A long soak and their voices will be fresh and ready to go for the last month of their touring show. One lone Surprise Lilly has bloomed this year, out of the double rows that line the walk. All those sweet scented stage lights have gone dim, anticipating some dramatic event that will come along any moment now. They're just waiting for their final cue. And this weekend the meteors played hopscotch in the rain clouds, waiting for the overture to begin. They added their little trills and turns to the, still too distant!, harmony of the thunder, lightning and rain. 

The rain cancelled its performance as it was starting last night. But the worst of the heat has broken and I taste less dust when I walk about, following song lines in my head. My ticket is still good, I'm sure. Maybe, maybe, maybe, I think as the birds and I whistle our way through the woods and watch the shy little clouds in the bright blue sky.

In the Palm of Our Hands - Origin of Solfege

The solfege syllables are one of those commonly used and accepted ideas that seem like they have always existed. These are the familiar do, re, mi, fa, sol, la and ti nonsense sounds for singing a major scale (“Do, a deer, a female deer”). The major scale, and therefor the syllables, can start on any note but C is typically used for examples for simplicity's sake. The syllables can be traced back about a thousand years to Guido d’Arezzo (c. 995-c. 1050 C. E., there are conflicting dates for him), a choir leader and music teacher who developed a new way of training singers to learn music quickly. He wrote a short melody for the chant “Ut queant laxis” (just the notes, not the words) with 6 phrases that all his singers memorized.

Each phrase starts one note higher than the last phrase and began with a different syllable. Each phrase is short enough to remember very easily. Singers used the syllables and notes that began each phrase as stepping stones to find notes in new music without hearing the new music first. This is where the first 6 solfege syllables came from. Do, the first syllable of the scale, was originally ut and the 7th syllable, ti, was added later but the rest are the same. There are a couple of different theories about how these syllables got started but this is the one that turns up in most music history books.
(For the curious, accidentals change the vowel sounds. With sharps, do becomes di, re becomes ri, fa becomes fi, sol becomes si and la becomes li. For flats, re becomes ra, mi becomes me, sol becomes se, la becomes le and ti becomes te. There are other systems and not everyone uses these at all.)

Sometime after these syllables came into use, each syllable/scale-step was assigned to the tips and joints of the fingers so that the choir leader could point to a joint and students would sing that note on cue. In this system, the entire set of syllables are repeated several times since most music has more than 6 notes. Additionally, the repeated sets of syllables are overlapped to show how to modulate to new scales. This technique does not seem to have been invented by Guido but it did use his solfege syllables. The notes, 19 in all, move in something like a spiral around the hand.

Guidonian hand from a manuscript from Mantua, last quarter of 15th century (Oxford University MS Canon. Liturg. 216. f.168 brecto) (Bodleian Library) This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Somewhat easier to read solfege and note layout on hand. Some notes have more than one syllable because of the overlapping pattern of solfege scales. For more info, click here. Be warned, it's complex.

This is very complicated and intimidating looking even to professional musicians and not too surprisingly is not used very often these days. But I love the idea of holding two and a half octaves in your hand.

There is a set of hand symbols representing each solfege syllable that some people use today. The hand signs for the sharps and flats aren't used as often.

Ti

La

So/Sol

Fa

Mi

Re

Do

These are very similar to the sign language alphabet but the two systems have different meanings entirely and the signs for the music syllables are a little more flexible simply because there are fewer. Not every one uses the hand signs for solfege, there are different solfege systems in use and not all musicians use solfege at all.

I am fascinated by the ways we use our hands. It’s an instrumentalist thing as well as a human thing. There is a long list of systems that use the joints or knuckles in the hand as a way to organize, remember and communicate ideas such as musical notes, alphabets, calendar dates and on and on. It's all right there in our hands.