Stormy Scherzi, Day 3 – Scherzo for X-Wings from The Force Awakens by John Williams

This week’s theme is…Stormy Scherzi!  A scherzo is traditionally defined as a “musical joke”, that is, a light-hearted movement that lacks the weight of a good sonata form essay.  And often that’s how they feel.  But, have you ever listened to a “scherzo” that seemed to fit the description of a musical joke, but darkly?  Some scherzi paradoxically combine lightness with intensely determined feelings, sometimes even bordering on malice and despair.  This week we examine some such examples.

Stormy Scherzi, Day 3 – Scherzo for X-Wings from The Force Awakens by John Williams

Disclaimer: This post contains spoilers regarding elements of Star Wars: The Force Awakens.  If you have not yet seen the film and wish to have a fresh experience when you do, I would advise waiting until you have to read this post.

If you have been at all curious about my reaction to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, then today is your lucky day!  I can’t imagine why you would, but maybe that comment demonstrates unwarranted self-effacement.  I suppose my opinion is as valid as anyone’s.  So here goes.  I’ll start with my general experience of the Star Wars franchise…

I was born in the early 1980s, and my dad had a way of showing me trendy movies that I may not have been psychologically mature enough to process.  I remember being fed a diet of Star Wars and Top Gun, all prior to the age of 6, definitely too young for Top Gun and probably too early for Star Wars.  The earliest memories of my experience with Star Wars are two-fold: one is being terrified of Ponda Baba’s severed arm in the Cantina scene in A New Hope…

…and the other is entering a movie theater to see a shot of C-3PO and R2D2 framed by the trees of Endor in Return of the Jedi.  Between the islands of that memory archipelago are certainly abundant other experiences, but they have since been covered by the ocean of age.  Those two isolated images are my earliest memories of Star Wars.

About a decade or so later my brother and I began to take an interest in the film franchise, fueled largely by the effusive praise of a teenage babysitter.  This was around the time that the films were remastered and re-released on VHS, including extensive interviews between George Lucas and Leonard Maltin which preceded the films, and ended up being fast forwarded through rather often:

And that was mostly how we watched them during my teenage years.  We enjoyed them, and were definitely fans, although not fanatically so (insert your interpretation of “fanatical” here).

And then the prequels came out in the early 2000s.  I retain strong memories of two qualities of that whole experience: one was that I was underwhelmed by the films in general, especially for their acting, the cold CGI, and also the materialistic shattering of the mystery of the Force (midi-chlorians and all that), and the other is being struck by how consistent John Williams’ musical score felt with the original trilogy (Dual of the Fates aside; I wasn’t crazy about that number).  I remember having discussions with fellow musicians, and probably reading articles, that expressed sentiments to the effect of “George Lucas seems to have lost something, but John Williams still has it!”  That seemed about right to me.  I may revisit the prequel trilogy in the coming months if I get a chance, just to see if there is any room for re-evaluation, but I wager that most people can agree that Williams provided a crucial glue to mesh the two trilogies in spite of the inconsistencies many members of the audience noted in other aspects of the film making.

John Williams’ work in all of the scores of the Star Wars canon is often compared to the orchestral music of Wagner’s Ring tetralogy, a thick, overarching, blanket of connective tissue rich with symbolic musical motives associated with characters and philosophical themes which serve to captivate listeners/viewers and reinforce the semiotic interrelatedness of the story and its actors.  For more on Wagner’s artistry see this post and this one.  The comparison is apt – Williams has clearly been a keen student of Wagner’s leitmotiv technique and instinctively knew to apply it to the Star Wars films, even before he was certain that sequels were in the cards.  The difference, I suppose, is that Wagner’s creative vision remained consistent in all aspects of the Ring over the course of the few decades he took to complete it, be it libretto, characterization, dramatic pacing, music, etc.  But in the Star Wars films the consistency of Williams’ music exceeds that of many of the other elements, particularly as you look from trilogy to trilogy, and now beyond.  Whoever ultimately owns the Star Wars brand ought to be very thankful for Williams’ ongoing involvement and the continuity it has helped to facilitate between films.

I would assert that Williams’ contribution is indeed the strongest element of The Force Awakens, just as it is in the prequel trilogy.  I viewed this trailer many times in anticipation of the return to the good ol’ days of the original trilogy that it promised:

 

Even in this brief trailer it is the music that evokes the most powerful response of any of its elements.  After an extended layering of the initial harmonic progression (E: I – iv – N6 – I, or E – Am – F6 – E for all you theory geeks in da house) during which the arguments of the drama are presented, a significant theme first heard in Episode V, The Empire Strikes Back, known as the love theme between Han Solo and Princess Leia, peals forth measuredly and deliberately from violins in their lowest register, just as we see the dogfight between tie fighters and the Millennium Falcon and hear Han Solo, grizzled with age and life’s adventures, affirm the veracity of the legends of the Jedi and the Dark Side.  This was the very moment that sold me on the film and I still remember my internal emotional response as I viewed this trailer for the first time in December of 2015.  In fact, I still respond to it in much the same way now.  After that, we hear two other leitmotivs: the stoic Force theme, first heard in Episode IV, A New Hope, which plays as we catch our first glimpse of a battle-ready Kylo Ren, wielding his distinctive cross-shaped lightsaber, and finally a hushed statement of the Star Wars main theme just as the trailer ends and the title of the film drifts away before us.

Would the trailer be as effective without Williams’ well-placed musical cues?  I’m sure I don’t need to answer that question.  The compelling themes and motives of the Star Wars universe are probably the best tool at its marketers’ disposal.  Even as new characters are added, to varying degrees of success, Williams comes out on top with brilliant themes that manage to sum them up, and this is true of both the prequel trilogy and The Force Awakens.

I was similarly underwhelmed by The Force Awakens as the prequel trilogy, but for different reasons.  I felt, as did many critics, that it more or less told the story of A New Hope and pandered to fans of the original trilogy with heavy-handed references, and quickly became frustrated and disinterested.  But at least the music provided much-needed continuity with the other films.  And Williams even managed to have a little fun with the material.  What a clever touch to include a playful and turbulent “Scherzo for X-Wings” for some of the final dog fighting, rife with contrapuntal maneuvering of the Star Wars Fanfare:

 

 

The title is almost like a packaging, earmarking it as an obvious choice as a self-contained concert number for accomplished bands:

http://www.halleonard.com/product/viewproduct.action?itemid=4004661&lid=4&promotion=1014&subsiteid=6&

Does the Scherzo for X-Wings take its place among classic Star Wars set pieces like “Here They Come!” or “The Asteroid Field”?  Hard to say, and only time will tell.  But it is a fine example of the crucial cohesion provided by John Williams’ solid contributions over the course of a decades-long effort to produce a coherent universe of storytelling which has come to be filled with other elements that have fallen short of the original in that regard.  Williams truly speaks to the souls of Star Wars fans; he seems to understand and acknowledge the gravity of the covenant he made with his current and future audience back in 1977 and continues to honor it to this day with his considerable abilities of orchestration and musical characterization.

 

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Falsetto Bros, Day 3 – Lovesick Blues by Hank Williams

This week’s theme is…Falsetto Bros!  It’s good to be a man 🙂  Male singers possess a major difference in comparison to females: a falsetto range.  It’s like a magical third zone of vocal timbre that allows men to soar like chirpy birds above their more commonly used tenor and baritone registers.  I love to sing in my falsetto register.  I often experience an enchanting and lyrical freedom up there that I don’t experience in the lower tessituras.  Across the years, and in different musical cultures, many male singers have discovered the same thing, and have worked to cultivate performing voices through their falsetto ranges, often grappling in some way to reconcile their masculinity with the feminine associations of their chosen (or determined) voice.  This week we look at some such gentlemen.

Falsetto Bros, Day 3 – Lovesick Blues by Hank Williams

One of my favorite movies is The Shawshank Redemption.  

Have you ever seen it?  It’s not the kind of movie you would watch every month (if you have time for that anyway – I really don’t these days!), or even every year.  But if you know the movie, then you understand that it’s the kind of film that strikes you with a strong urge to immerse yourself in it every now and again.  And you have to make time and space for it; it’s a long movie and a captivating one, so you won’t want to have to stop it in the middle and risk interrupting the flow and sweep, which is considerable and absorbing.  In my opinion, it’s a rare example of an excellent and polished movie to result from an adaptation of a Stephen King story – there are a few classic films in that body of films; more often I find they feel cheap and hollow.  But The Shawshank Redemption really soars.  It follows the story of Andy Dufresne, played by Tim Robbins, a successful banker who is wrongly convicted of murder and incarcerated in a state prison for the better part of his life.  Not content to let prison existence destroy his spirit, he steadily resolves to live life on his terms and effect a spiritual transformation within the prison on the inmates who surround him.  One of Andy Dufrense’s proudest accomplishments along his path of renewal is the construction of an aesthetically edifying and resource-rich prison library in the early 1950s which results from his repeated nagging of the state’s prison board to release funds to make it possible.

The new library is beautifully decorated and contains volumes of literary and musical works.  One of the most endearing characters in the film is Heywood, played by William Sadler.  

The inmate Heywood, played by William Sadler in The Shawshank Redemption

He’s a lovable career criminal, resigned to living out his life sentence as happily as possilble, dim but sincere.  And he’s a country music fan.  His favorite part of the new library is the listening stations, complete with turntables and Hank Williams records.

Heywood is the one who comically mispronounced “Alexandre Dumas”.  I can’t find it on YouTube, but there’s a really charming scene in which he is kicked back in the new library, enjoying the record collection and unselfconsciously singing along to Hank Williams’ 1949 recording of Lovesick Blues, complete with the yodely changes in register.  Here’s the song:

Pretty cute little number isn’t it?  It was written in the 1920s and has been covered and recorded by a generous handful of country greats, most recently by George Strait in this super clean, muscular 1992 production, a full 70 years after its genesis:

Every recording I’ve found, whether made by man or woman, country artist or otherwise (most of them are country, but there is a also fun one by Jerry Lee Lewis), preserves the yodeling tucked into the vocal line.  The very first recording, sung by the minstrel performer Emmet Miller, also contains yodeling:

So, where did that come from?  This yodely style of singing, the constant flirting with the break beyond which lies the falsetto range, is a consistent mark of style that has pervaded American Country and Western music over the course of its century or so of development.  Maybe you could see that as ironic: a style of music that revels in machismo and masculinity, so significantly colored by cowboy culture, is one that mixes the effeminate male falsetto register so freely with the manlier chest voice.  Or maybe we have it wrong, and it’s time to reclaim the male falsetto voice for the masculine call that it truly is.  I would be inclined to agree more with the latter.  I often notice when I lead college music students, especially underclassmen, through scale singing exercises they are reluctant to cross the break and sing out in their falsetto registers, even though it makes certain keys much easier to master.  But it’s truly a male birthright, and man should embrace it as the Country and Western singers demonstrate!

Early Country and Western singers had absolutely no hesitation to cross their breaks and incorporate their falsetto registers into their singing. The hundred year history of American Country Music is, at this point, dense with names and influences.  Largely a twentieth century genre, Country Music’s “generations”, each lasting roughly two decades, span the century, each one shaped largely by the political events, recording technology and commercial marketing systems of the years it occupied.

The First Generation, working during the 1920s, was the first to make a sizable dent in the development of Country music.  The influences inherited by these singers, who inhabited the American South, were a veritable hodgepodge which included blues, Appalachian folk songs, negro spirituals, Protestant hymns, backwoods fiddling tunes, work songs, cowboy songs, and more.  One of the first major figures to meld many of these influences into a distinctive personal voice was Jimmie Rodgers.  In the summer of 1927 he and several other early country singers were recorded in Bristol, Tennessee by Ralph Peer, a producer for the Victor Talking Machine Company, who was traveling through the south in search of new talent.  These “Bristol Sessions” gave birth to the American Country music industry as we know it, and all successive generations are able to trace their origins back to this event in some way.  Here is Jimmie Rodgers singing “Sleep, Baby Sleep” as recorded in by Ralph Peer during July of 1927 in Bristol Tennessee:

Did you hear his cowboy yodel?  Almost every recording of Jimmie Rodgers I’ve found features him yodeling like that, in a slow, relaxed drawl.  I’m not sure if that would soothe me to sleep, but it’s a lovely trademark.

If you want to get a sense of the American South that incubated all of the styles that influenced the early country singers, albeit a stylized one, check out the film O Brother, Where Art Thou?, the Cohen Brothers’ colorful adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey.  

It even features a scene that is roughly analogous to the landmark Bristol Sessions:

 

The second generation of Country singers saw cowboys like Roy Rogers and Gene Autry in the 1930s and 1940s.  They could yodel too and used the skill to paint a romantic picture of cowboy life to American audiences.

 

 

Hank Williams comes right toward the end of this second generation.  What I notice with Williams is that he works the yodel into the song proper, rather than breaking into yodeling episodes between the verses like his predecessors.  Williams would set the tone for decades of country music that followed with its tendency to flip back and forth between registers, often within the same phrase.  Here is a much more recent country performance, actually a cover of 1960s Doo-Wop, that illustrates this tendency:

 

Now, not all of the Country greats were yodelers.  The greatest figure of the 3rd Generation, Johnny Cash never did it.  And if you know Johnny Cash you probably can’t really imagine him doing it.  Even when he covered the tunes of natural natural yodelers like Jimmie Rodgers, his yodeling is a bit half hearted.  Sure, he gets the syllables right, but he flat out refuses to cross his vocal break.  

So, I guess it yodeling necessarily universal to Country singers, but certainly very common.

I find the phenomenon of constant male falsetto singing in Country Western music paradoxical.  The male falsetto range has, for centuries, seemed to be a mark of weakness, sensitivity, femininity, but for its entire history, the singers of Country music have managed to make this every present expressive technique just the opposite, incorporating it into a larger package of rugged masculinity.

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