Tag Archives: String quartets

Writing parts – also known as harmonizing

It’s actually really interesting to me that so much of the harmony is implied in the initial melody. If the melody follows a tonal pattern, then it begs for harmony that reinforces that – and conversely, if my melody is more atonal, toying with twelve-tone patterns, the harmony is demanding to be more like that too. If I should try to insert lots of regular trichords (think major or minor chords, mainly) to an atonal line, I think it would feel misplaced – unless, of course, it isn’t trying to follow exactly a regular bass-line or chord progression from the tonal tradition.

So while I feel like it’s not hard to write in the harmony, I’m questioning my choices yesterday. Do I like what I hear? I think I will continue to work on this thread – meaning the melody I wrote yesterday, with its accompanying harmonies I’m continuing on today – a bit longer and see if it redeems itself before scrapping it.

What makes music compelling? Why do you want to continue listening? The counterpoint certainly helps, but if the melody doesn’t want to stay in your head after listening, maybe it is just another piece you’re going to forget as soon as you heard it. So I’m second guessing my choices but don’t want to give up yet. I’ll let you know what I decide to do as I look at it again with – hopefully fresh eyes – next time.

Getting on with the next movement

I’ve really struggled to figure out what’s next. I have focused on trying to play more consistently, like pull out my instrument and practice like I did when I was in lessons. I figured it would be a good idea to play through all the pieces we’re playing in our concert on Friday and Saturday (Timpanogos Symphony Orchestra, at Orem High school) – Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto, Hindemith’s Metamorphoses, and Wagner’s Die Meistersinger overture. So a total of eight movements, and I thought two movements per day was pretty good, not overwhelming. It’s getting easier. I’m playing the hard parts at a slower tempo, which makes them more doable. It’s not like I’m going to play them slow at the concert. It is really important to stay with the beat, and it is even more important to stay with the beat than to play all the notes, or even the right notes. Playing the right notes at the wrong time is much worse than the wrong note at the right time in an orchestra setting, especially if the texture of the orchestra is very full at the time. At the same time, being able to play them slowly means that I am telling my brain what the melodic and rhythmic pattern is, so that it’s easier to recreate in the section in the middle of the piece.

As I’m tuning in to an old radio program from 2013 where Donald Maurice, Claudine Bigelow, and Scott Holden play various inspiring music featuring the viola and piano, I find my old love for Bartók’s music rekindled, and for some reason, a melody starts to take shape. I write it down as quickly as I can, and I wonder if the first 17 measures will be like the theme of the movement.

Last time I sat down to create music on my score, all I had come up with was the setting of the string quartet, the tempo, and the meter. But today, it’s obvious that it’s kind of like a waltz. It’s hard to imagine the harmonies I’m going to feature at the same time I’m listening to other music though. When I listen through what I wrote, I love the melody, but it’s too slow, and I decide to change the tempo to being defined by the dotted half note instead of the quarter note.

When I pick it up next, I’ll be sure to focus on harmony and counterpoint, and developing the theme further. It should be fun to have a waltz, it’s been a while since I wrote one. If you’re curious, listen to Vals från Rundvik! (You have to scroll to the bottom of the page, it’s the last recording on the page).

End of the first movement SQ1

Sometimes, a piece of music has a very imaginative title. Other times, it is more abstract, and I just call it “String quartet #1”, like so many before me. Maybe some day, I’ll have an idea that demands a change, but for now, that is what I call my work.

I filled in the last few measures of music for the first movement. I added in some more articulation where I thought it was needed, and some dynamics markings. The piece is at least a completed draft. As I was going through the parts I wrote today, I noticed several times I had had all of the parts moving in the same direction. Generally, that is frowned upon. So I changed a few pitches, letting the second violin go down as the other three go up, and letting the cello later stay on the same pitch when the other three go up. Last instances, I just let the viola go higher than the second violin, because the chord was pretty tight. Now the second violin goes down when everyone goes up, and the viola gets to go down when all the others go up on the next instance.

I think it can work to have all move in the same direction, but it really sticks out in a piece otherwise adhering to counterpoint rules as best as I can, which is why I try to eliminate most of my rule-breaking voice leading.

I’m a little nervous about giving out the parts to my friends, but also very excited to hear a better rendition than my software does. Live musicians breathe their own life into my ideas, and it is such a lovely feeling when you hear your ideas with their fantastic sound.

Surprising move, or not

I’m picking up the string quartet this morning again. I write some notes for the first violin, and then I work on the second violin. I find that this time the second is leading, and it’s a fun change. I had the viola part extending the longest from last session, and it just seemed like the line should be repeated (nearly) but with an octave higher, and the second violin naturally took that line. It seems that next, I should develop the line in the first violin, and let that instrument take the lead.

But instead, I catch the vision that the cello and second violin play contrary motion to make for an expansive section.

Small essay –

Contrary motion is when you have two lines, and whenever one line is getting a pitch that is higher than the previous one, the other line is getting a pitch that is lower than the previous one. If I have one line that is consistently climbing upwards, the other line climbs downwards on the staff (and in this case, you would expand the span of the interval between the notes, little by little – which is why I call it an expansive section). If I have lots of up and down alternating, they would be alternating opposite. It makes for more interesting lines, more independence of lines, and I like the way that harmony works out that way too. –

End of small essay.

When I get back in the evening to put some more notes on the page, I on impulse add in a few notes where previously there had been a rest for a couple of the instruments. I add in an accent for the violins to match the viola in one place where it looked like I had just forgotten to do it.

And then the line flows out of first violin at the place where I’d left off this morning. I have the three lower parts in what amounts to the viola playing a melody with the others accompanying for a few measures, and the first violin adds more harmony to the accompaniment, and then moves over with quarter notes accompanying the second violin. When the second violin part ends, it seems very natural to keep going with melody for the first. All I had was a cello bass line to relate to, and I try to remember to use contrary motion a lot, because I like the way it sounds. Sometimes a line gets to repeat the same pitch, but I’m thinking about the melody like a line you have to hold on to for dear life, or you might drown. The first violin is kind of holding on to a hope that she or he has to keep going up, or they will go under water. So I keep going up, sometimes repeating pitches so the harmonic span doesn’t get too wide too quickly. Once I land on the high A, which I know is kind of high for the violin because my software marks it red (I have confirmed that the violinists I work with have played this pitch and higher in concert, so I’m not worried). But I decide to leave that idea there, and move on to playing a kind of counterpoint with the cello line. Until that ends, and then I just improvise, and write the ideas I had that came while I was listening through the entire piece.

I often start my composing sessions by listening to the piece I’ve been working on. That way, the improvisation that is part of composition seems to flow more easily. I have this section with rhythmic unison (all the instruments on the same rhythm) that comes to give the listener a break from all the busy counterpoint, and I feel like it is very needed now. I just need to hear those accents again, all the four instruments together. As many times as my ear requires a rest, and then I can start on counterpoint again.

When I’m getting to the viola part again, I have to write lots of sixteenth notes again to make the counterpoint right. I have been listening to Cristina Cordero’s rendition of Weber’s Andante e Rondo ungarese today, and I was following along with the music. She has really beautiful tone, and I’m inspired that there are musicians like her that can play so many notes so sonorously on this instrument. She was only 18 when she made that recording, and I actually listened to several others of her videos today, and I try to keep this lovely sound in my head, and trust that the viola can play the notes I’m putting down, even though I know it will be a challenge.

It can be helpful to imagine someone better than yourself playing the music you’re writing. I’m imagining I’ll be better after working on this piece as a performer, and I’m ok with that prospect.

I’m getting tired of working on this piece. I think it’s getting close to ending though, so that is a good thing. I just need to wrap up this movement, and then I think I should probably write three more. But they will be contrasting enough that it shouldn’t feel like I’m working on the same piece.

So I write a few measures for the second violin, imagining the general environment that the other instruments will play against that line, and I decide to make an ending. It’s nearly seven minutes, and I think I can be pleased with that length. I’ll end for tonight and look at it again tomorrow.

The middle part of the first movement

Continuing work on the string quartet today. I add in the remainder of the cello part that was missing from last time, and I decide to pick up the tempo a little bit for the next part. I’m feeling like another five measures of mostly unison rhythm is enough, and I decide to start on the repeat of the beginning part. The question that lingers is – how exact of a repeat am I wanting to include, and where does it diverge to something that’s different?

I decide to go for six of the opening measures to start the fast section, and then it just starts flowing. There’s a first violin part stretching out four and a half measures, and I decide to move on to the second violin. I have found that it’s usually easier to work from the top part and then down, as each part contributes to the spread of the chord and the sound. There are exceptions, especially in a piece as contrapuntal as this.

The second violin part flows four measures past the end of the first violin part now. As I work on the viola part, I kind of dread having to learn all the fast notes! It stretches two and a half measures longer than the second violin’s line, and I move on to the cello part. The last two measures of the viola part I have written, thinking of another rhythmic unison part, and I write the cello part up until the end of the viola part.

But when I go back to the piece, I hear the viola part inside my head stretching forward into the next little bit, and I write down what I imagine real quick. I just have to quit now for today anyway because I have something else I have to work on. Until next time!

Getting back into writing notes

I got so sick a couple of weeks ago, that at first I was just lying around sleeping with a fever. As I started to recover, I had very few thoughts on writing music, it being Christmas and I had some other responsibilities associated with that (a little for the music program at church, and trying to make it a meaningful time for the family by cooking some special dishes for our dinner, trying to figure out decorations and gifts).

There had been a difficulty for the choir at one of the key changes for Angels we have heard on high, and I added some notes for the clarinet and the alto saxophone to clarify the key change. It was simple and worked.

But today I feel the itch of writing more. I remembered exactly what I had been thinking last time, probably in part because I kept a record here on this blog. I just listened through what I had so far, and then I wrote a part for the first violin, and then one for the second violin. They are rhythmically unison which makes it easy, in some ways. I know that if I keep the same interval between them, they cease to be independent, so I try to vary the distance a little bit, and add in a little bit of contrary motion. But the idea here is high and kind of ethereal, and I don’t want any quick moves.

I add in a viola part, and I start working on a cello part but the library is closing so I’ll have to pick it up later.

Transition from fast to calm

Today when I get back to the computer to what I imagine is finishing up the loose ends from yesterday, I find that what sounds like an ending can just as well be the transition to a calmer middle part. The piece is full of contrapuntal movement, and I have finally reached a resting point for all the four instruments. That is why it feels so final. But I decide that I can start a new part here, and make the piece more of an ABA form. I’m at the end of the first “A,” and I can start on “B.”

Here are a few things that I deliberately do to change the feel of the music, to make it a contrasting section. 1) I slow down the tempo from 120 to 84 beats per minute, 2) I don’t write any sixteenth notes – the fastest note so far is an eighth note, 3) I give it a pianissimo marking, the first in the piece, 4) I make the counterpoint less busy, so I only have two different rhythm shapes, and they are only a little bit different from each other, and 5) I use a lot of sequence and try to make the section predictable.

Last Saturday I had the fantastic experience of listening to the Utah Symphony playing live at Abravanel Hall in Salt Lake City. They played Prokofiev’s 2nd piano concerto and Shostakovich’s 1st symphony. Their opening piece was by John Adams, The Chairman Dances: Foxtrot for Orchestra. As I listened to the orchestra, I was thinking a lot about repetition, and how much repetition is desirable. It clearly is a delicate balance! You want the audience to feel like they have some kind of idea of what the musical theme is, and how you are developing it. You can only know the theme if there are enough iterations of it, because otherwise it comes across as introduction or variation.

So as I’m writing the beginning part of “B” in the first movement of my first string quartet, I’m trying to introduce the theme enough times that a listener can feel like the music makes sense. I’m pairing the two violins rhythmically, and I’m also pairing the viola and cello. Then I switch rhythms between the two groups, so that the leading voice is in the lower register. I’m thinking a lot about two-part harmony, which does best when the intervals are a pleasing interval, rather than doublings (doublings kind of undo the idea of harmony).

In two-part harmony, a pretty safe bet in traditional arrangements is the third or the sixth. However, I love variety, and therefore I will mix my thirds and sixths up with seconds, diminished fifths, and the occasional fourth or seventh. I try to aim for a mix of countermotion and the parts moving together (with countermotion being favored). That is how I find a two-part harmony the most interesting.

Well, I finish up my first eight measures of that section, and I know that it needs something a little different next. I’ve just ended on a pretty high chord for all the strings, which lends itself fairly well for introducing the climax. I remember learning that when you’re looking for a climax in a piece, it generally means the highest point. Playing Prokofiev’s third piano concerto (observe that this recording is not my orchestra playing it) last spring, I definitely felt it was a high point when the entire viola section was maxing out by playing the highest notes we are usually ever asked to play in concert, towards the end of the last movement (listen at about 24-26 minutes for that part where the high strings are really high and lyrical, right before the peppy contrasting part by woodwinds, piano, and strings playing in a very different style).

So when I get back to writing either later today or tomorrow, I will try and make that high section fly.

About different modes in music

As I mentioned last time, there were gaps in the piece as I left it, and I start by writing in a second violin part, that extends past what I wrote last. Somehow, it seems to ask for a key change, at least temporarily, rather than a change of mood. So I’m ending up with a different tonal center for a little while.

Let’s talk about keys and tonal centers a little bit. I was in high school when I first learned about different modes. I found them very interesting to work with. I actually employed a few different modes in my first opera writing. I started out very traditional in a mostly Dorian B-minor, but I wrote a part for the soprano to sing in Phrygian mode, and later on, a song for the mezzosoprano in Lydian mode. This way, I could keep the key signature, but just change the tonal center, and I liked the way it turned out.

There are certain harmonies that I tend to favor. I really like four-note harmonies, which means I don’t double many notes in the string quartet. So I’ll add a sixth or a seventh or something to fill out the trichords that are so common. One of my favorite trichords is the augmented one. It’s so mysterious! I also like the diminished trichord, and you can easily make it a diminished seventh when you add the fourth note.

This is kind of hard to express in just words. If you know what I am talking about when I talk about different modes, the best way to learn more is by just experimenting. You can listen to Tavasz (It means Spring in Hungarian) by Béla Bártok. It starts with a melody with a high fourth, just like in the Lydian mode. Maybe this is one reason his music resonates so much with me. The modes are different enough from the common practice era to make me sharpen my ear, but still really beautiful.

I just keep writing more notes on the string quartet, and suddenly I write a cello line that sounds like it could be the ending of a movement. What in the world? I thought the piece would be longer. The movement might be nearly done but my brain is spent. I’ll get back to it tomorrow and see what happens. The piece is close to five minutes of peppy music, and maybe the contrast I was looking for will just appear in the second movement. I think I’ll go for a slow, sweet style.

Adding more notes

It’s been a busy week and I feel like it’s hard to find any long stretches of work on my string quartet. But I’m still happy with being able to write in some more notes today. It’s gaping a little for a second violin part, but I did write some notes for each instrument, and all those holes make it easy to know where to start next time!

I had this phrase that I let cascade from the cello, to the viola, to the second violin, to the first violin. But it wasn’t coming through enough, so I decided to add in doublings until they all play unison.

As I’m listening through the music I’ve written so far, I’m thinking that there are probably only a few changes I’ll make to the material when I’m editing it. One note sounds a little out of place, so I’ll change it from a G to an A, probably. I know it’s short on dynamics too, so I’ll add in more of that when I have a moment.

I’m at about four minutes now, and I’m thinking that if I want to have a middle, contrasting section, it should come just about now. I’ll have to think about what I want it to sound like.

Rejection

I know that many successful writers and other kinds of professions often get many rejections before someone takes a chance and believes in them. I also remember that there was some guy (Jia Jiang) that went out of his way to get rejected every day for 100 days to get over his fear of rejection. Brilliant, right? He wrote a book about it. I just watched his TED talk.

So I think it’s partly what he says, he just tried hard to make unreasonable requests or weird and unusual requests and then he recorded what happened on video. He wasn’t actually rejected every time, some people gave him what he asked for. For him, it sounds like he learned a lot about himself, and was able to not just start running as soon as someone said “no.”

I submitted my first work to a competition when I was still a student. It wasn’t a great piece of work, and I wrote it for the competition under a time crunch. I didn’t win, and I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I didn’t really look for any other competitions for many years. It was just a few months ago, after I had started working on the symphony, and I got word of a competition that was especially for female composers of symphonic music, that I started to write the last movement to suit the parameters of the competition.

I started keeping an eye out for other competitions, and it kept me to deadlines. Just keep writing, a little bit every day, and make sure it’s done by the deadline. The second competition I submitted to this fall (third in total) was a new song I wrote. I blogged about the journey. I didn’t know what I was doing at first, but I didn’t give up. Just one step at a time.

So today when I got word that I didn’t win the second composition competition I ever entered, I shouldn’t get too discouraged. I remember learning about the philosophies of Eastern religions, and the striving for nirvana, which has to do with a quietness, a freedom from the bonds of this earth. I like to think of it as letting go of the desire for quick success, which is attained by those who are able to not get sucked into the abyss of disappointment that is so easy to fall into when faced with rejection.

And I wrote some more lines on my string quartet today.