Going Away and Coming Home

 

The phenomenon that I call "going away and coming home" is present in all Western music. (It may be true of other culture's music but I cannot speak to that with any authority.) Going away and coming home is operating on all levels, micro and macro.

"Home" refers to the feeling of being settled. It might be compared to the period at the end of a sentence. "Away" refers to being unsettled, the feeling that more is to come, like a comma in a sentence. The interplay of home and away creates the feeling of movement, the feeling that the music is pulling you forward, its "dynamic" quality. It also gives music its structure. 

You are probably already aware that our music is tonal (with very few exceptions), that is to say, it is based on a scale. A scale is a subset of all available tones, and a scale has specific relationships of the tones to each other.

The scale itself is a perfect illustration of home and away. Play the first note of a major scale. (I'll call the notes of the scale 1, 2, 3, etc.) Then play 1 to 2. As you listen, does the 2 have more energy to move forward, or does it want to fall back to 1? I think you'll find it's the latter. Then play 1-2-3 and ask the same thing. You'll probably agree that 3 has more forward momentum than 2, but not enough; it, too, wants to fall backward to 2 and then 1. Now play 1-2-3-4. It's starting to feel like it finally has some forward momentum, but 4 also very easily can just relax back to 3. Now play 1-2-3-4-5. I think you'll hear immediately that with 5 we have really gotten somewhere; it feels like you have reached the crest of a hill. The note 5 really doesn't want to fall back but has a drive to go forward. As you play 1-2-3-4-5-6, the pull to go forward is stronger still, and when you play 7, the urge to go to 8 is extremely strong. (The 7th note of the scale is sometimes called the "leading tone" for this reason.) If we call the notes 1 and 8 "home" (which they must be, since they begin and end the scale), the note 5 is as "far away" as you can go before you are returning home again. Although the scale appears to be linear when you look at it, musically it is more of a circle. The tones 1 and 5 are are opposite poles of the circle. (For more about the scale itself, see my post "The Cosmic Mystery of the Musical Scale.")

It makes sense that if the scale (micro level) embodies home and away, then everything built on the scale will also have home and away.

As you might have guessed, the importance of the tones 1 (I) and 5 (V) are everywhere in our music, and specifically, the chords built on I and V. If you take the simplest of songs, let's say "London Bridge is Falling Down," you will see it is harmonized with just two chords, I and V. This is because every piece of music, no matter how short or simple, must have home (I) and away (V). Having only "home" would be boring indeed, and having only "away" would be almost impossible since, without home, away cannot even be recognized as being away and would be quite disorienting.

While everything other than 1(I) is away, 5 (V) is the most away. The chords of II, III, IV etc. are also away, but the strongest feeling of away is V. You'll find that almost all our music ends with the V and then the I chord. (The remaining ones end with IV to I, which is also a 5 to 1 relationship, but the other direction in the scale and in the circle of fifths; see my explanation in earlier posts.)

On the macro level, sections of music exhibit home-away-home as well. A tremendous amount of our music is based on the A-B-A form. The A section functions as home, where you start, the B as away, and then A as the return to home. Songs have one or more verses (section A), then usually the chorus, or "bridge" (section B), and then end with the verse (A). The simplest classical pieces will probably be A-B-A, and the B section is either different in its thematic material, or it is in a different key, or both. Going to another key is definitely felt as "going away" and the return to the original key has the satisfying feeling of coming home. Larger musical works such as sonatas, symphonies, etc. are all based on some variant of A-B-A. There are some exceptions, of course, but composers (and we listeners) have found this so satisfying that we just don't seem to be able to abandon it.  When you consider that a piece of music unfolds over time (as opposed to a painting where you see everything at once), it is imperative that the music have a structure, or architecture, that can be discerned by the listener. A-B-A does the trick.

I find it endlessly fascinating that, regardless of the complexity of a given piece of music, the going away and coming home is always operating, always pulling us forward. You can study all sorts of complex "music theory" in books or classes, but if you understand "going away and coming home," you'll understand a great deal about music.

One of my pet peeves

 

In my previous post I referred to the term "accidentals." This term is used to refer to notes which are outside the scale in which that the piece (or section of the piece) is written. I don't know how the term "accidental" originated, but it is clearly a misnomer, because they are not accidents.  Any time I hear someone use this term, I just cringe, and cannot resist explaining why it is such a misleading term. It is one of my real pet peeves.

If you are playing in the key of C Major, for example, and encounter an F# (F sharp), people might call that an accidental, because F# does not occur in the key (scale) of C. So what is it doing there? Here are some reasons.

1. The F# may appear because the piece is modulating (moving) to another key, probably the key of G, which does have an F# in its scale. If the piece is going to stay in the new key for a significant amount of time, the composer may write a new key signature for this section; but if it is just "passing through," so to speak, the key signature won't change, and the F# will just be notated as needed. The sudden presence of sharps, flats or natural signs can alert you that the piece is changing keys. Virtually all music will have a key change at some point. The exceptions would be a very short song or a piece written for beginners. A large piece will have several key changes.

2. A chromatic scale would, by definition, need to notate using addition sharps, and/or flats. A chromatic scale is one consisting of all 12 notes within the octave. While our music is not generally based on the chromatic scale (there have been some "experiments" with this), there may be a passage which is chromatic in nature. Not only will the scale be used, but melody and chord patterns which are chromatically-based are common in much of our music. Chopin, for instance, wouldn't be Chopin without it.

3. If you were to see the notes G-F#-G, for example, it could be part of a scale-like passage, but the G, instead of going to F (natural), goes to F#, which is its "chromatic neighbor." The rest of the passage may stay strictly in the scale, but it could start off with a brief "visit" to the chromatic neighbor. Chromatic neighbors would also be frequently used in a trill or mordent. The chromatic tone, as opposed to the scale tone, lends the trill a bit of dissonance, which gives it the intensity that is often the purpose of the trill. Try playing a trill that is marked with the chromatic tone with the scale tone instead, and you'll hear it sounds flat and bland.

4. Secondary dominants. If you are in the key of C, your final chords (of the whole piece and/or a section) will likely be G7 to C. This is because G is the dominant, or V (five) in the key of C. One could call this the "strongest" ending (or cadence). The G7 may be preceded by a D7 chord. The D7 chord contains an F#. The D7 is called a "secondary dominant" chord, in that it is V(five) of V(five), or dominant of the dominant. The F# in this case is not signaling a modulation to another key nor creating dissonance. It is a strong ending, using the secondary dominant to pull us toward the V7 chord, which, in turn, pulls us to the final I(one) chord.

These are just a few examples (there are others), but they represent very distinct reasons for the existence of non-scale tones. Unfortunately, I hear teachers (and their students) just lump these all together as "accidentals," which does nothing to help the student understand the reasons for their being there. The whole subject of tonality (being in a key) and movement between keys is central to all music in the Western world. If you don't understand tonality, you can still enjoy music, but you can't really understand it. Using ambiguous terms such as "accidentals" does nothing to further the student's understanding, and, in fact, creates wrong impressions.

A few years ago I was having this discussion with one of my 12-year-old students. He agreed with me completely and we decided to come up with a better term for non-scale tones, which we would use exclusively. He came up with the term "purposefuls." I think it's just perfect, and I urge you, whenever you see one or must refer to it, to use the term purposeful.

Ear Training

 

If you've been reading this blog, you know that I emphasize the importance of the ear and of training the ear in order to be a good (or great) musician. To some of you, this will be an obvious fact. To others, especially if you are a beginning student of music, you may not understand why. You may say "Don't I just play the notes I see written on the page? What does ear have to do with it?"

Suppose I wanted to become an artist, or, at least, to develop some skill at art. I am instructed to draw a picture of a tree. Clearly, I have been seeing trees all my life, but the best I would be able to come up with is some sort of stick figure of a tree. (I have no talent at art!) If I really want to draw a tree with any degree of realism, I would have to spend many hours really looking at trees, not casually, but with a higher level of attention, in order to see the intricacies of their bark, their branches, their leaves. In other words, I would need to develop my eye. Every great visual artist must have a highly-developed eye, the ability to see details the average person does not.

Likewise, we have all been hearing and listening to music all our lives, but if you ask the average person to sit down at the piano and play Happy Birthday, for example, they cannot do it, and in fact, probably don't have a clue how to even start. It is not an issue of physical skill -- they could try to do it using just one finger -- but it is a lack of ear. As with the tree analogy, they will need to spend many hours listening to music in a whole different way in order to hear what is actually happening. Luckily, with music, you can listen as you play, and play as you listen, so you get automatic and immediate feedback as to whether your ear is getting better at it. 

It is true that it is possible to just learn to read music, learn how to play the notes you see, and achieve some meaningful level of skill. But without developing the ear as well, you will always be limited. The greatest musicians have the greatest ears. The highest levels of mastery only come with the highest level of ear sensitivity. To give one of the clearest examples: people marvel at the fact that Beethoven was able to compose some of his greatest masterpieces while he was deaf. He did not need to hear the music in the physical realm; he heard everything, down to the smallest detail, in his ear.

One way that you will be limited if you neglect developing your ear is in the area of memory. Hundreds of people, from beginning students to those who are quite advanced and even doing performances, have said to me, "I just can't memorize!" That is because they have primarily muscle memory and not ear memory. (See my post on Memory.) You don't forget how to sing Happy Birthday, even if you haven't sung it in months or years, because it is "in you ear." While a piece you play on the piano is light-years more complex than Happy Birthday, the concept still applies. 

Everyone is born with some degree of ear. Some people can play by ear incredibly well at a very young age. At the other end of the spectrum, some people say they are "tone deaf." (I do not believe anyone is truly tone deaf, but their ear can be very weak.) Anyone, no matter what level, can continually work on their ear and make it stronger. (OK, maybe not Beethoven.....)

So how do you train your ear? I will outline three basic ways, for beginners through advanced students.

1. Beginners: I start all my students with playing by ear. (Most teachers start right in with reading from the first lesson, which I strongly disagree with. They probably can't play by ear themselves, so they don't know how to teach it.) You take the simplest of songs, starting with Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and figure it out on the piano. I guide you a bit, if you are struggling, but you still have to do the work yourself. Some people can do it easily, some really have trouble. It doesn't matter; as long as you keep working on it, you will "hear" more than you did before, now that you are listening so intently, as opposed to casually. Then we add chords (more complex and more difficult to hear) and continue on to more and more complex songs. (Basic knowledge of theory will help in your ability to find the correct chords, though the ear is still more important.) In my view, this is the most fun way to train your ear. Why do repetitive drills when you can play actual music? It is a great joy to be able to hear a song, say, on the radio, and just go to the piano and play it, even if it's a simple rendition. Many people just assume they can't do this, but the truth is, they've probably never really tried.

2. Intermediate: If you've ever been in a choir, you know that some people are able to see a line of music notation and sing it right off. (In a professional level choir, everyone would be required to have this skill; in an amateur choir, people might largely learn by rote, that is, just listening and imitating.) This is a high form of ear development. You cannot see your vocal chords nor do you know how to manipulate them to make a given sound. Only your ear can direct them how to contract to sing a given note. When you are a toddler and begin to sing, no one can show you how; the voice and the ear have a direct connection, and the voice sings what the ear has directed. If you want to learn how to "sight-sing," as it is called, you will need to start with interval drills. I write out the scale (a major scale, to start), like this: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. You sing the scale, up and down. Then write out various patterns, such as 1-2-3-4-5-3-1, or 1-3-5-6-4-2-1, and sing them. (Later on you can do this with the minor scale as well.) There would be hundreds of patterns you can do with these eight notes. I use numbers, rather than the old "solfege" system (do, re, mi, etc.) because the numbers make the relationship between the tones very obvious. It is easier to recognize that 3 and 5 are a skip away, but not as easy using "mi" and "so." After some amount of doing these drills, take written music with which you are unfamiliar, and sing the main melody line. A Hymnal is great for this (select the ones you don't already know). You can check yourself, if you think you've gotten off, by playing a note or two on the piano, but you must not play the melody on the piano first -- then you'd just be imitating. Continue, progressing to more and more complex music. Your ear will also need to learn how to hear non-scale notes (so-called "accidentals" -- see my next post for more on this term). It should also be noted that you will need to have learned to read and understand rhythmic notation, which is a subject for another post. Although sight-singing does not address the ability to hear chords, in other words, multiple notes at once, it nevertheless strengthens the ability to hear intervals (relationships), which will help with chords indirectly.

3. Advanced. If your ear is quite good, and even if you have "perfect pitch" (also known as "absolute pitch"), which is considered the highest form of ear development, you can still strengthen your ear through transposing. I happen to have perfect pitch and for years, even during my four years at a conservatory, I was actually told there wasn't much more I needed to do. However, after I finished school and found my REAL teacher, Joseph Prostakoff, I discovered, despite my "good ear," that there were many things I couldn't do. The answer was to transpose. The reason transposing is so powerful is that it makes you hear all the relationships between tones, which is what actually makes the music, not the tones themselves. I take all my pieces and play them in other keys. I force myself to do it as much as possible relying only on the ear (as opposed to calculating by eye using the page). Start with very easy pieces and keep moving on to more challenging ones. Of course it is necessary to go slowly, and it can be quite a struggle at first, but as your ear strengthens, it get easier. I guarantee that, after transposing once or twice, you will know the piece better than if you played it 50 times through in the original key. And, after transposing 10 or more times, you will probably not have any trouble memorizing it.

For Intermediate and Advanced, you can, and should, still continue with playing by ear.

I regard these three methods as the best way to develop your ear. Plus, they are the most rewarding, because you are playing (or singing) actual music. 

It can be tempting to take the easy way out and just play the notes you read from the page and not bother with ear training. But if that's all there were to it, there would be many more good musicians than there really are. Just as the visual artist needs to see subtle shadings of color and texture, the musician needs to hear the complexities and subtleties of tone and rhythm, which goes far beyond just "playing notes." And for that, you need a highly-developed ear.