The Importance of Cadences in Improvisation and Composition

Soloing isn’t just about playing over, or under, or anything in between, just as effective speech isn’t just about finding words that fit together. Soloing, like speech, is about saying something and speaking in ways that others who are receptive and prepared can understand. In music, images, ideas, and feeling are conveyed through sound. Sound can be organized into harmonies and melodies. Melodies are like musical sentences. In music, we call these sentences phrases and phrases, like linguistic sentences, have certain elements. The problem with playing over changes is that it often neglects elements like rhythm, phrases, and cadences.

Of these elements, one that is often overlooked is the cadence. A cadence is the punctuation that ends a musical sentence. In language there are periods, question marks, exclamation points, commas, semi-colons, colons, en-dashes and em-dashes. Each type of punctuation conveys its own unique energy and degree of resolution or completion. For example, a period conveys a high sense of finality while a question mark asks for more—some kind of response. Exclamation points are dramatic. They suggest a high degree of finality, like the period, but finish with an authoritative bang!

Mirroring these linguistic punctuations are numerous musical punctuations—cadences—that are employed to complete musical sentences—phrases. Some of the more common kinds of cadences are the authentic, plagal, half, and deceptive cadences. Additionally, these cadences can be made perfect, imperfect, masculine and feminine.

The most final of all cadences is a masculine, authentic, perfect cadence. It is authentic when the phrase ends on the I chord and is preceded by the V chord. What makes it masculine is that it cadences on a strong beat. For example, in the Key of C Major, an authentic cadence would be a G chord (often G7) leading to (preceding) a C chord on the first beat of a measure. What makes the cadence perfect is that the I chord is in root position with the top note of the chord also being the root note of the chord. In this case a C chord in root position with a C note as the highest note of the chord.

Like the authentic cadence, the half cadence can be perfect or imperfect, masculine, or feminine, but what makes the half cadence unique is that it resolves on the V chord and hence suggests continuation rather than completeness. This is particularly useful when a composer wants to transition from one section of a work to another. The half cadence finishes a phrase on the V chord. It is most often preceded by some form of its own dominant chord, i.e., a V or V7 of V leading to the V. For example, in the key of C major, a phrase that ends on a G chord that is preceded by a D or D7 chord. This is an example of what is called secondary dominant harmony or, in this case, pre-dominant harmony.

Another important type of cadence is the deceptive or interrupted cadence. The deceptive cadence begins on the V chord but resolves to a chord other than the I or the V chord, i.e., the VI, or III, etc. The most common resolution being to the vi chord (minor) in a major key or the VI chord (major) in a minor key. As its name implies, the listener anticipates the I or the V, but hears something else.

The plagal cadence leads to a resolving chord from its IV chord. The most common application would be from the IV chord of a key to the I chord of that key. For example, in the key of C major, an F chord resolving to the I chord, or IV to I. Unlike an authentic cadence, however, the plagal cadence feels somewhat unresolved and seems to suggest the need for a further change, often to the dominant chord which leads to the tonic chord. An example might be I – IV – I – V – I.

One cannot think about cadences without thinking about phrases. Thinking about phrases helps one to break out of the box of run-on sentences that basically say nothing—a box created by thinking about what notes or scales work over or under chords and chord progressions. It leads one into the broader study of melody which is the essence of good soloing, good expression, and good writing.

The study of melody, however, is not a one-day course. It goes to the heart of what is called musical composition, be it in the form of songs or the wide range of classical composition, from sonatas, partitas, fugues, concertos, and symphonies. If this study sounds daunting, perhaps that is why musicians and students alike often tend to eschew the study altogether. But the student who is willing and able to put in the time and effort will be amply rewarded in his own music and his enjoyment of music in general. At least, that has been my experience.

Andre Segovia once said, “What the world does not need is another guitar player. What the world does need are artists and musicians who happen to play the guitar.” Why learn to speak in a language you don’t understand? What enjoyment is there in that?  Those who do understand recognize those who don’t by the way they play. Short cuts are good when they do no harm, but if they are employed to bypass what needs to be learned, then they become a hindrance to real musical growth and real musical enjoyment.

In a book of my musical studies that I began long ago, I wrote this quote by the poet Rumi. “Come, come, come, whoever you are—wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving—the why makes no difference, ours is not a caravan of despair, Though you may have broken your vow a thousand times, come, come yet again, come!”

 

 

Dream Window

 

Dream/Window 1985 for orchestra, by Toru Takemitsu, is a relatively short piece of music as classical music goes—about fourteen minutes in length. I will not try to describe it or analyze it here, only to say that I very much like the piece. What inspires me to write this blog post are some comments that Takemitsu made regarding it.

I had always taken the title to suggest a window into one’s dreams, but Takemitsu states that the title is actually taken from the Buddhist name of a Zen priest, Muso Soseki, who lived in the Muromachi Period (appr. 1336 – 1573). Mu means dream and so means window.

Muso Soseki was renowned for designing gardens, and one of his most famous is that of the Saiho-ji Temple, popularly known as the Moss Temple, in Kyoto. But Dream/Window is not just about the Moss Temple, its more about the relationship between the Moss Temple and the entire city of Kyoto.

Takemitsu sees Kyoto as a very “complex urban space.” He describes it thusly; “In Kyoto a progressive tendency coexists with an entrenched conservatism, concealing a dynamism different from that of Tokyo or Osaka. Beneath the hushed serenity of Kyoto, the gears of change grind on and on without cease. At the core of my image of Kyoto is this struggle of such opposing tendencies. The name ‘Muso’ (i.e. Dream window) seemed the perfect symbol for this struggle.”

An old saying, “Every stick has two ends.” It’s the very essence of duality that Takemitsu wants to capture in his piece. He goes on to say, “I use ‘dream’ and ‘window’ as metaphors for two contradictory dynamisms of facing inwards and outwards. To make the inner and the outer resound simultaneously is the prime objective of the music.”

What catches my attention most is his aim of ‘simultaneity’. I can easily look inward at thoughts, images, memories, etc., and I can likewise look outwards at the world through my senses, but how can I do both simultaneously?

I remember an exhibit I attended many years ago of Buddhist art at the Art Institute of Chicago. One of the sculptures I saw made a deep impression on me and remains a guiding image of my life to this day. It was of a seating Buddha made of stone about three feet in height. It was placed in the middle of a hall, and I noticed it immediately when I entered the hall.

Perhaps forty feet away, its eyes appeared to be open, but as I walked closer to it, it began to appear to me that its eyes were closed. This appearance of eyes altering between open and closed continued as I walked closer. Finally, standing right in front of it, I saw that its eyes were half open. I am sure that the phenomenon I experienced was intentional—that the artist knew how to create it.

The half open eyes suggested to me that one could move through life—experience life—with one’s attention simultaneously on one’s inner and outer worlds, and that this state would create a more complete and more accurate experience. Was not Takemitsu trying to capture this state in Dream/Window?

 “I use ‘dream’ and ‘window’ as metaphors for the two contradictory dynamisms of facing inwards and outwards. To make the inner and the outer to resound simultaneously is the prime object of music.”

Does Takemitsu achieve his objective? I guess that is for each listener to decide for himself. Personally, I find his objective is in harmony with my own objective regarding life and consciousness in general, i.e. trying to find that balance between my inner and outer worlds, like the Buddha with half open eyes… 

 

To Emilio Pujol

                                                                                     Translated from the Spanish by Michael Kovitz

To Emilio Pujol,

My very dear friend,

     I would wish to be a Llobet or a Segovia in order to speak with dignity about your Guitar Method and respond in a small way to the very affectionate kindness with which you honor me by asking for a word of introduction to it.

     Though I can add nothing to the brilliant theoretical and practical teachings for which we are all indebted to you, I would like to pay homage to that instrument whose home has always been the resonant atmosphere of the Spanish parlor, but whose history is tied to our own as well as European music in general.

     Admirable instrument, as temperate as it is rich, it harshly or sweetly knows how to master the spirit. In it, through the passage of time has been concentrated, like a rich heritage, all the essential values of noble instruments of former times, without the loss of its own character, the origin of which it owes to the people of Spain. Of all the string instruments with fretted necks, the guitar is the most complete and rich in harmonic and polyphonic possibilities.

     If all these qualities and possibilities were not enough to reveal its significance, the history of music demonstrates the magnificent influence of this instrument as a source of transmission of the essence of Spanish sounds throughout a large sector or the community of European musical art. With excitement we discover it clearly reflected in the works of Domenico Scarlatti, Glinka, and your own countrymen the composers Debussy and Ravel. Casting a glance upon our own music which over the course of centuries has owed so much to the influence of Spanish sound, it should suffice to recall as a recent example the superb Iberia left to us by Isaac Albeniz…

     But let us now return to the work with which you gratify us. Since the remote time of Aguado we have lacked a complete method capable of transmitting the technical achievements begun by Tarrega. You, with your method, achieve this end excellently, and in addition, add your own magnificent personal contribution benefitting not only the performer, but also the composer of profound sensitivity who will find in your Method motifs to inspire the covey of new instrumental possibilities.

     For all of this, please receive my effusive congratulations the embrace of a true friend who loves and admires you.

                                                                                                                                 Manuel de Falla

                                                                                                                            Granada – December 1933

Rhythm

 

The house of music has three doors, melody, harmony, and rhythm. Depending on the musical period and style, these three elements can present themselves in different ways and in different relationships to each other. In most music, all three doors lead to the same place, like spokes on a wheel, and all three doors work with each other to fully express themselves and the music.

Melody manifests itself in time and hence creates melodic rhythm, and melody can imply harmonies. Conversely, harmonies can suggest a roadmap for melody to follow. The progression of harmony through time creates its own rhythm—harmonic rhythm.

Rhythm requires sound to be heard or felt, hence rhythm in not independent of sound—sound in the form of pitch and duration.

It has been my experience that apart from the study of percussion, the study of rhythm is often given a backseat in the study of music. Teachers of classical, jazz, and popular music all too often assume that if the student can count out music notation correctly and play notes and chords in time, then their work with rhythm is either complete and that the student can then automatically find the right feeling of the rhythm on their own. This is especially true in the instruction of folk, pop, blues, and jazz. Emphasis is placed on the chords and chords progressions, while the rhythm of the strums and picking patterns is given short shrift.

Many years ago, when I was performing on the folk circuit in Chicago, Illinois, my path often crossed with that of a folk blues artist called Blind Jim Brewer. Jim would begin and end every set with the same song, I’ll Fly Away. It’s a simple song and Jim’s guitar playing emphasized the bass notes of the chords on beats one and three of the measure which he followed with a strong downstroke of the strings on beats two and four. Both the chords and the strum, often called the Carter Family Strum, are something that even an advanced beginner can easily handle. But what could not be duplicated was the effect that Jim’s playing had on his audiences.

Without exception, on every occasion that I observed, whether in coffee houses or college campuses, within moments of him beginning to play this song people began to smile, tap their feet, and clap along to the music. Little children would even begin to dance.

What was it about Jim’s playing that caused this to happen? I believe the answer lies in the power and meaning of living rhythm. Living rhythm is something far beyond playing music in time, it comes within and finds expression through the body.

I recall that James Joyce in his, A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, said, “Rhythm in art is the relationship that exists between the whole and its parts, the relationship that exists between any part and another part within the whole, and the relationship that exists between any part and the whole.” This definition applies equally to all the arts, music, poetry, sculpture, painting, and dance, as well as to life in general, creation, the movement of the stars and planets, and the proportions of the human body and even the makeup of the mind.

Kahlil Gibran spoke about Jesus through the character of Mary Magdeline, “When I saw him in the garden, He moved like none other—he moved as if his every part loved every part of Himself.” – (paraphrase).

Relationship and love, they seem to go together, but how does that make us better musicians and specifically better at rhythm? As a teacher and a musician, it just doesn’t seem appropriate to leave it at that. There must be some practical way to study and practice rhythm. Metronomes and counting will only lead us so far. The “play it like this” approach used by many teachers perhaps takes one a bit further, but I wonder if the most practical approach may turn out to be the one that at first appears to be the least practical and the most impossible to teach or learn, and that is love—love for the music, love for others, and love for oneself?

Above the entrance to Meher Baba’s tomb in India is written, “Mastery in Servitude,” and somewhere in the scriptures it is said, “There was a time when the kingdom of Heaven could be taken by force, but those days are gone. Now the way to the Kingdom of Heaven is through love.”

As a fortunate teacher and performer of classical guitar, I have had the opportunity to attend many guitar concerts. I have seen the best the genre has to offer, and I have observed something very unique about the concerts of Andre Segovia. I saw it manifested in the audience during intermissions and at the end of his concerts.

Contrary to other artist’s concerts, during intermissions and after the concert when leaving the hall and the building, the audiences were generally quite talkative, commenting and discussing the performer, the performance, and the music, but the audiences attending the Segovia concerts were different. They tended to be much quieter, smiled more, talked less, and seemed to be more serene.

I observed this on many occasions, and I wondered why. I have concluded that the difference was due to how Segovia came to become a master musician. I believe he mastered the music by serving it, rather than by force of ego will, in other words, Mastery in Servitude through love.

Of course, love cannot be taught, but I have observed that it can be communicated. As Meher Baba said, love can be caught from those who have it. That love can manifest itself across all genres of music, it is not limited to the works of Bach or musicians like Horwitz and Segovia. It can also be found in the simple folk blues of Blind Jim Brewer and even the simple pop songs and singers of the 1950’s and 60’s.

So, it is love that brings the music to life, love that makes melody, harmony, and rhythm live. Love manifests through the hands and the voice of the musician, through the body of the musician.

Love and service are connected. By continuing to serve the needs of the music, by continuing to sacrifice for the needs of the music, one may gradually learn to love the music, and when love for the music is supported by successful work connected to learning the music, living with the music, and playing the music, the end result is that the musician is raised beyond himself, effaced, as it were, and the music soars to the highest levels of human endeavor.

Studs Terkel once asked Andre Segovia why, after becoming a true master of the music, he still continued to practice scales and other exercises daily. To this question Segovia replied, “Studs, I know I don’t have to remind you of the story of Jacob’s Ladder. Even though the angels had wings to fly, they still ascended and descended the ladder step by step.”

                                                                                                           (c) copyright, Michael Kovitz, 2023

 

 

 

Playing the Guitar