Cogitations...: Blurred - B.Ryan/Music for 18 Musicians

Sundays are possibly the best of days in the arbitrary division of time mankind has created. They possess none of the lacksadaisical ennui of Saturday, and none of the pent-up tension Fridays need to release. They are finite, which makes you enjoy them all the more since they must end. They afford you the opportunity to get work done in an enviroment that, while conducive to the task at hand, allows a large degree of latitude regarding the pacing and practice of the act of doing. Is that the long-form of saying you can be lazy? Possibly, but it's Sunday, so I don't care.

Laying by the pool this afternoon (it being sunny and all), I started thinking about a statement that one of my teachers, Richard Saucedo, once imparted upon the Cavaliers hornline in 2001. He said "The true emotion in music comes from harmony. Not from text, or dynamics, or anything else - just the harmony." Coming from an arranger as enraptured with extended harmonic language as Richard is, that is made obvious just in listening to his work. Given that it was summer, and that is the time when great amounts of thinking, introspection, and discussion take place - we had plenty of time and energy to mull over these words in tandem with the system of thought that was being introduced to the hornline that summer. (which led to how we sound now, but that is another post for another day)

First, I must say that I agree with Richard on this count. The harmonic structure and progression of a piece determines its emotional impact, and all other components (rhythm, text, dynamics, other special effects) merely enhance or subdue the core emotional content of the piece. Really, look no further than the most basic cadence we find from the earliest music - V-I - to see the sense of arrival, finality, and closure a sequence of 6 tones, 3 at a time, tonally spaced a perfect fifth apart creates. It's so incredibly simple, and yet has one of the most indelible impacts upon our centers of emotion and perception that even people who know little to nothing about music can appreciate it. Or at least know when to clap. Sometimes.

But to delve further into this thought process, look at the marching arts - they absolutely rely on harmony to convey the emotion of what they do. A great flag feature (e.g. Fantasia 2004 or Pride 2001) is often accompanied by music that could be characterized as "expansive", "uplifting", or even "soaring" - which is created by often simple harmonies voiced in a very open structure, simple rhythmic counterpoint, and closing with a definite cadence - a period at the end of the sentence, as Bruno Zuccala would say. And what does it do? I elicits emotion that, while seemingly incongruous to watching two dozen people wave poles with fabric on them around in a gym, is genuine and strong.

The same holds true for drum corps and marching band - the emotional impact comes principally from the harmonies performed at a high level by the members of the group. Even the implicit harmonies of a running bass drum line create a response - bass 5 is going to drive us forward, and the other 4 leading down to it create tension and line just as much as a traditional melody. An great impact moment is one where the visual and musical synthesis is achieved at a level that the content seems to inevitably be what it is - it could be no other way. Visually, the motion leads the eye either to a focal point, or through a sequence of motion that creates tension that finds resolution. Musically, similar tension or aural "leading" occurs, taking the audience member through a process of thought and perception that (hopefully) affects them intellectually, aesthetically, and (strongest of all) emotionally. For evidence, look at the end of the Cavalier's ballad in 2002 - one of the best performed moments in the history of the activity - it achieved a quality of sound that rivals some orchestras in this country - which allowed for the harmonic progression to have its most potent effect. Though, listening to that moment begs the question "Is the greatest impact of the is moment in the cadence, or the silence that followed it?" Yet another post for another day.

In short, we as humans crave these sorts of moments - whether we realize it or not. We become part of something greater than ourselves, through the performance and through the music - that is the addiction. The endorphin rush of a moment like this - whether as a designer, teacher, performer, or audience member - is far beyond the normal experience many people have. It is something that stays with you, and won't let go. That is why music is an amazing art form, and I believe the combination of music and visual is the highest level of art one can make. But then, I might be just a little biased.

Just a lot.