Seven levels
of structural awareness can be found within a complete piece of music. From the
smallest units to the largest they are:
(1) Individual
sounds, (2) Intervals, (3) Triads and Chords, (4) Motives, Figures, or Music molecules, (5) Sub-phrases and Phrases,
(6) Sections and (7) Movements.
All seven
levels of structural awareness are most clearly identifiable in classical
symphonies, concertos, and suites. Simpler forms, like songs and individual
pieces, sometimes contain only five or six of these levels; while in the practices of composition of the Middle Ages, and the music of much of Renaissance
music, the concept of triads and chords did not exist—even though contemporary
musicians do hear and see these harmonies in the music of these
earlier periods.
Structure
and awareness go hand in hand— their connection can be understood in this way:
A piece of music is made up of many different sounds; when one is aware of
these different sounds, but not of the connections among them, then awareness
is only of the first level of structure—the single sound. This is often the
situation with beginners whose awareness is primarily involved with trying to
read and play individual notes, i.e. “This
is a c note, that is an e note,” etc.
The second
level of structural awareness is about the relationship among the sounds, i.e.
about intervals. Here one is aware, for example, that there is a relationship
between a c note and an e note and this relationship is designated and
understood as a major third. Add
another level of structural awareness, i.e., the awareness of the relationship
among three sounds, and we have the awareness of triads, and by extension,
chords. As it is with sounds, intervals, and triads, so it is also with
motives, phrases, sections, and movements.
A word of explanation
is also warranted regarding my use of the term, music molecule. Within the domain of music, common corresponding terms
are motive and figure. They all mean about the same thing. In his book, Fundamentals
of Musical Composition, Arnold Schoenberg said;
“The motive generally appears in a
characteristic and impressive manner at the beginning of a piece. The features
of a motive are intervals and rhythms, combined to produce a memorable shape or
contour which usually implies an inherent harmony. Inasmuch as almost every
figure within a piece reveals some relationship to it, the basic motive is
often considered the ‘germ’ of the idea.” – Fundamentals of Musical Composition, by Arnold
Schoenberg, page 8
Personally,
I often use all of these terms somewhat interchangeably, but I particularly
like the term music molecule. In science, a molecule is the smallest amount of
a substance that still retains all of
the qualities and characteristics of that substance. Here, the word substance is
consistent with the material that makes up the whole of a given piece of music
and the term music molecule is the smallest structure within that whole that
identifies the unique quality of that whole piece of music.
Take, for
example, the great old song, “Autumn Leaves.” Merely hearing the first sound
will not identify the piece, nor will hearing the second sound, nor will
hearing the third. But the first four sounds, corresponding to the words, “The falling leaves,” will identify the
song to anyone who is familiar with it. Those first four sounds, their duration, and the harmony they imply create the first molecule of the song we
call Autumn Leaves that through the processes of repetition and variation exhibit
most all of elements of melody, rhythm, and implied harmony that are heard
throughout the song.
It has been
my experience that merely playing the correct notes in correct time does not
create a satisfying interpretation and expression of a piece of music, but that
the awareness of each of the seven levels of structure that make up the whole
of a piece of music leads to an understanding and subsequent interpretation and
expression of a piece of music that can be both competent and aesthetically
satisfying.
I believe
that aware of the music molecules, their
repetition and variation, and how
they combine to form sub-phrases and phrases, which, in turn, combine to form
sections and then movements, is the key to that elusive quality that is called
musicality.
Listen to
the first four notes, the first music molecule, of Autumn Leaves. This
music molecule consisting of the words, “The
falling leaves,” is followed by five notes corresponding to the words, “drift
by the window.” Notice
that those five notes have the same intervallic relationship as the first four
notes corresponding to the words, “The falling leaves.”
What makes them sound different is that the second five notes begins a whole
step lower than the first four and the whole note that ends the first molecule
is divided into two half notes in the second in order to accommodate the two
syllable word, window.
Some might ask if the
second molecule is a repetition or a variation of the first molecule.
Personally I favor repetition, though I would not argue too strongly if someone
preferred variation. What I think is more important, however, is that the two
molecules are in an antecedent/consequent
relationship, in other words, the
second molecule is a response and completion of the first molecule. The antecedent/consequent
relationship is so prevalent in all music that it is nearly impossible to
conceive of music that does not exhibit it. It is found to connect molecules, phrases,
sections, and even movements.
In Autumn Leaves, the first two molecules,
corresponding to the words, the falling
leaves and the words drift by the
window, make up the first sub-phrase which is then followed by the second
sub-phrase containing the words, the
autumn leaves of red and gold. Notice that these two sub-phrases are also
in an antecedent/consequent relationship, and that the first molecule of the
second sub-phrase is a repetition of the very first molecule of the song,
beginning on a note that is one-half step lower than the second molecule.
The next line, the autumn leaves, repeats the first
molecule a whole step below the notes corresponding to the words, drift by the window and are then
followed by a variation of the molecule corresponding to the words, of red and gold. That completes the first sentence of text and the first eight measure
phrase consisting of two four measure phrases in an antecedent/consequent relationship.
Here, a phrase is
taken to mean a musical sentence. A
grammatical sentence needs a subject,
verb, and object, for example, the sentence, “I went home.” Notice the
similarity, but also the difference, between a phrase and a music molecule. A
phrase is a complete thought, like a sentence, but a music molecule, though
being the smallest unit that
identifies the unique quality of that whole piece of music, is not, in itself,
enough to make a musical sentence—a phrase.
The next phrase of
the song, “Autumn Leaves,” corresponding to the words, I see your lips, the summer kisses, the
sun-burned hands, I used to hold, is an exact repetition of the first phrase, but with a variation
of the final (cadential) measure.
Which leads
us to the second section—the bridge—beginning
with the words, since you went away... This
is a new molecule, and though it retains the three note step-wise movement
found throughout the molecules of the first verse, the second part of this new
molecule introduces a melodic skip from a chord
tone to a non-harmonic tone and
then returns to the same chord tone. The
name of this particular type of non-harmonic tone is called a free tone. It resembles and auxiliary tone in that it is between two
chord tones that are the same pitch, but differs from the auxiliary tone in that its distance from the chord tone is more
than a step.
The next
three music molecules, variations of the first, and corresponding to the three groupings of
words, since you went away, the days grow long, and and so I’ll hear, exhibit this same free
tone shape found in the first molecule of the bridge. The phrase ends with
the words, old winter’s song, and the
cadential consequent of the third
molecule.
The next
phrase of the bridge is the consequent of
the first phrase of the bridge. It corresponds to the words; but I miss you most of all, my darling, when autumn leaves start to
fall, and exhibit the greatest contrast, in the melodic, rhythmic, and
harmonic materials that compose its music molecules.
Of great
importance to the discussion of music molecules is the observation that the
majority of all music molecules do not begin on the first beat of a measure not
do they end on the last beat of a measure. Music molecules can be seen to exist
over and between bar-lines while the
harmonies often tend to change at the bar-lines. Failure to appreciate this distinction creates numerous problems.
For example,
notice that in “Autumn Leaves,” the first music molecule that begins the song
starts on the & of beat one of the first measure and
ends on the first beat of the third measure. The second music molecule then
begins on beat two of that measure and ends on beat one of measure five. But
the chords, the harmonies that accompany this melody consistently change on the
first beat of each measure. Hence, the music molecules begin after the chord
changes, not on the chord changes.
Amateur ensembles often have trouble with
the timing of this song, trying to
start the music molecules on the chord changes rather than after them. It would
be like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole by filing down the edges
of the square peg. Yet, the tension that exists between harmonies and melodies
is one of the most important factors that contribute to a good piece of music.
Another
common mistake made by amateur musicians and ensembles is the failure to
appreciate the importance of the caesura—the
moment between music molecules,
phrases, sections, and movements of a piece of music. What is a moment and what is time? They are both states of awareness—interconnected and yet,
independent of each other. We commonly think of time in terms of past, present,
and future, but, a moment just is and
has no specific measurement in time and has no past or future. A moment only
exists in the eternal present.
In music, we
establish time by designating tempos
and measure time in units of beats
and measures. But because the caesura
exists outside of time, as a moment, it cannot be found in the beats and
measures that measure the music. But it can be felt, and when the caesura is
expressed by a great musician, it is always found to make the music feel right.
Segovia once
told a student, “Both the good musician
and the bad musician disrespects the music (notation), the difference is in how
they disrespect it.” The caesura disrespects
the literal notation of tempo, beat, and measure, but when handled correctly,
the caesura respects the music that is being indicated by the notation—the
music that is the very reason for the notation.
As a
musician my aim is to play music in such a way as to share the depth of joy
that I feel while I’m playing it, and as a teacher, to help my students do the
same. It is my conviction that knowledge
plays a role in this process, but that knowledge has to be distilled and integrated into an almost instinctive feeling that goes beyond words and
ideas.
I believe
that listening is one of the keys to
this distillation—listening more and more, and studying more and more, the
works of great composers and great musicians.
Also, we should not forget the importance of listening more and more,
and understanding more and more, one’s own music, for, in fact, we can really
only play what we hear, and what we hear is not just defined by the physical
organ ear, but is the result of the cultivated
impressions of the mind that responds to and interprets the auditory
sensations relayed through it through the ear, to the mind, and ultimately on
to the Infinite soul that the body and the mind serve.
Music is a
beautiful thing, the deeper one goes into it, the more beautiful it becomes,
and the more amazing is the experience—amazing and fulfilling—and as in all
things, the key is love.
“My teacher was telling the story, but he was
the story itself. It was about Mr. Kubadi and Johann Sebastian Bach, the lover
and the beloved, and God’s original question—‘Who am I?’ And it was about me
too—and it was about love.” – From Silence to Sound – Richard Kyle’s Journey to Musical Competency,
by Michael Kovitz, page 73 (Available
through the author at mekovitz@gmail.com).
© Copyright, Michael Kovitz, 2017
