#78 independence blues / a criticism on "tanah tumpah darahku"

I've listened to the Independence Day song for 2013. I am deeply, undeniably, completely saddened. One of my friends stated he lost his appetite after one listen. I concur with his good taste. I refuse to embed it on my blog. Google "joe farizal, tanah tumpah darahku". The Malay Mail puts on its extra pink rose-tinted glasses to have a look at this piece. I'm a hater, and this blog already states its mission to bitch about other people, so let me put on my critic's hat (made from off-season West Virginia badger fur with pregnant camel skin lining) and bust out a few words.

First the music. We have tons of composers with international credibility and experience, for example the lovely people in this site, (a bit atonal and experimental for my taste but at least they have tons of musicality), can't they commission a song from them? Oh right, they are mostly Chinese composers right, too much artsy fartsy type, allergic la hoy... Haiya.

Seriously, it's a bore hearing a quasi-march song every year with repetitive uninspired motives. I can forgive capitulations, even the Masters use them time and again but I will not forgive lack of inspiration. You have one whole year to compose a decent Independence Day song, and this is the best that you can come up? Che vergogna. I mean, pizzicato WTF? Have you ever heard a rousing pizzicato passage? (Don't quote me the third movement from Beethoven's Fifth or I'll scream a high D at you). And synth. Why not just ask Lady Gaga to write a new anthem?

And the saddest thing is that they can't even hire a decent band or orchestra or "human" performers. Everything is sampled. God knows in Klang Valley alone we have one symphony orchestra, several municipal bands and countless school bands/orchestras and session musicians. We have Juilliard-trained composers, lyricists and singers, and we get stuck with a parody of a song exulting "Kita halilintar". Is this supposed to be a tie-in to "Percy the Lightning Thief"? Because that was also a flop.

Then the vocal line. Which is fine and isn't so bad when you take an instrumental point of view. But come on, all those roulades (ha!) doesn't really scream patriotic spirit does it? You want straight, linear phrases preferably in the middle voice, which allows legato and more importantly maximal volume. This is a song which is going to be sung by everyone, including by people who don't have musical training. You definitely want a song like Perajurit, to this day the best march song ever written in Malaysia.


And why do the theme ends on F#? Any composer worth his/her salt know that note isn't exactly a good place to start or end a phrase if you're writing a vocal piece for mass consumption (as opposed to solo pieces). And on a fucking "A" vowel at that. Are you trying to strangle many people simultaneously? Tip: google "passaggio". No choir director is going to accept that kind of writing. You want something which everyone can sing, not just the sopranos. [Edit: I'm aware that one can always transpose, but the fact there is a choral version of this song made that point moot.]

Finally the lyrics. As I understand it the lyrics are written by our Minister of Communication and Multimedia. And it shows. He falls into the trick of assigning a syllable to every note, which is amateurish for lack of a better word, which would've been fine if the smallest note value in this song is a half-note, which is clearly not. I am not one to say bad things about our esteemed leaders, but please sir, leave these things to people who are paid to do them, had spent years perfecting their art, and actually know how to do their job well.

And I'm supposed to understand that the lyrics are about the Lahad Datu debacle. Fine and dandy. But really, there's no one else in the whole of Peninsular Malaysia better to write the lyrics? Good luck hoping for them to ask someone from Sabah, no, someone from fucking Lahad Datu, a guy or lady who lived THE WHOLE THING HIMSELF/HERSELF, God forbid right? Malaysia Boleh! (And I'm allowed to say this because I'm a Sabahan, so screw you back). Someone actually wrote up on the interwebs that the lyrics have deep meaning. I'm sorry sir; Salina had deep meaning (if you look behind the pseudo-autobiographical details). Usman Awang's "Anjing Itu" had deep meaning. *This* is fluff, hiding itself behind words like "putera-puteri" and "halilintar".

I sound like a bitter man. Well yeah I'm fucking bitter. I deserve to be, when France had fucking Berlioz arranging the anthem, and USA had fucking Sousa, and UK had Handel, Purcell and motherfucking Arne. But whatever right [wall-slide, wiping bitter tears]. 

#76 mawarku - 2by2 and siti nurhaliza

See, I am not a perpetual anti-Siti. She used to have a wonderful biting voice, in the mold of singers like Fauziah Latiff and the young Sheila Majid (the older, more mature Sheila is another thing altogether) and most excellently exemplified by Aishah. She is not a powerhouse singer, never was and never will, but that's okay, the world has enough space for lyric singers. And what she achieved in terms of sheer popularity will perhaps never be exceeded by another Malaysian singer, at least not in this decade (the internet sensation Yuna comes close, but she is a meme at best).

Perhaps the first time I noticed the Siti Nurhaliza instrument was when she sang Mawarku with the boyband 2by2. Looking back, I chuckled at the sheer campiness of the whole thing: the hair parted in the middle, the shuwa-shuwawa voicing, the MIDI oboe. I did remember holding a candle for the male vocalist - ah, youth.

Listening back, one could see how Siti became famous. At that young age she already displayed the propensity for good phrasing and wonderful colouration of her line. Listen to her singing Kau teruna with a staccato mezza-voce on the word kau: it's the vocal equivalent of saying "I know this asshole's bad for me, but look at those eyebrows!" This, and other examples, were especially evident when you juxtapose her phrasing over that of the male vocalist (whose name I've forgotten), who simply sounded amateurish and dare I say bored to be singing this song. Another example: later she employed a slight nasal twinge on pujaan jauhari, where before she had just been singing about pure white roses: she just knew those jewel-smiths are dirty masochists, mistaking thorns for orgasms. Don't blame a guy for making insinuations, I'm not the one putting those huge-ass ropes in the video.

Of course being young she did not really display much variation between her first and second stanzas. After all it was not that difficult; even the climbing scale was essentially an arpeggio. Perhaps this was a conscious decision, after all the premise of this song was basically the seduction of the virgin, so the female part would have to be sung with a more straight approach. There's a very audible register break when she sang the vocalise in the middle of the song, but I guess that's acceptable in popular music nowadays (as in, anything post-Madonna, not that Madonna had ever sang anything beyond her register break). Then there's the issue of her lower range.

My absolute biff with the current crop of Malaysian singers is the lack of a good, working, lower range. I am not talking about the chest function at all, I am talking about having good low notes which are capable of expression without sacrificing the note value, the note place in the harmony, the voicing et cetera. The composer of this song must had had an affair with the guy, when you have an instrument like Siti's, of which the glory is the top range, to give her the lower voicing to sing. What the fuck? It's a crime. It's absolutely a crime. Hear for example when the voicing was reversed, the guy taking the lower part (Senyumanmu yang menawan hati). It's like comparing diamonds to silt.

Of course that was the young Siti, before all the prize, all the gossip and whatnots. The raw material was sterling, and the artist she had developed to today is certainly accomplished if somehow artistically dim. But not everyone can have voice, intellect and the ability to make the hair crawl with a simple gruppetto like Aishah.

#71 "seroja": views, choices in performance practice and arrangement for wind orchestra

For the last week, I have been contemplating a very famous Malay song, "Seroja" as the theme for my next composition. As pure melodic material, "Seroja" is a strange subject. The title alludes to the flower lotus (teratai), which as you may realise is the symbol of purity for many Eastern cultures. In many images Indian goddesses sit on lotuses perched on top of 'sea of chaos', for example. The allusion to purity perhaps come from the fact that lotuses grow best in swampy areas, so their surroundings may be downright filthy, but their fulsome flowers remain clean and beautiful, in dissonance with its milieu.

The song interests me for many reasons. The song was composed by Hussein Bawafie sometime in the 60's. It has a beautiful coloratura line, it is a test of legato and phrasing, of the management of one's instruments in all its ranges, of creativity and personality in decorating the line. The lyric is pedagogic: the singer is berating a younger sibling for cherishing beauty over substance (rupa yang elok jangan dimanja), for wasting time over love, for not trying to gain wisdom from life experience (memetik bunga) - at least that is how I see it. It is a powerful song, a beautiful song. One may comment that for a song with a stern voice it sure has a lot of coloratura, but I see it as a means of softening the blow, the satin glove of the iron fist, a way to kiss the booboo, if you will.

The original version was sung by S. Effendy. Even in its original version the song was composed with a chorus in mind. The echo effect of the verse is very powerful, reminiscent of religious chants. Mr. Effendy has a beautiful baritone sound, however the extreme of his range (F#, to be exact), is precarious. He handles the transition beautifully though, with a glorious double effect decrescendo-portamento.


Another famous version was sung by Sharifah Aini. She has an easier facility of the coloratura line, and her husky lower reaches contrasted nicely with the power and beauty commanded by her upper reaches (reaching a full-throated F5). You can hear why Miss Sharifah was prized as the most important female Malay singer for at least twenty-five years - the liquid honey one associates with her high-middle voice - the one which granted her the ultimate vocal throne from Saloma - is in strong evidence here.


The most famous version is perhaps Jamal Abdillah's. The verse is throaty in his voice, more to the character of his timbre rather than a choice. He manages the coloratura of the first verse by hollowing his voice, and it is both harrowing and fascinating to listen to. He also made some confusing phrasing choices. No matter, he is a tenor, and he showed his mettle in the third verse, where he opens up a silvery thrusting instrument gloriously to A4 - even the coloratura is better at this range. The wear and tear in his voice show, but it is still a very powerful instrument nonetheless.


I have listened to Mawi's version. It is a strong voice, but at that moment in his career incapable of much delicacy. I do not mean he cannot sing the line, but it is very much the sonic equivalent of bull in a china shop. Contrast for example with Jamal Abdillah (easiest as they are the same voice type) who is still capable of executing the line while maintaining the thrust in his upper voice. Even Mr. Effendy was capable of some vocal effects, but in this department Miss Sharifah wins, hands down.


This duet version sounds wrong on two counts. I have maintained for a long time that while Siti Nurhaliza manages some glorious feats with her voice, her timbre remains anomalous for Malay literature. Hers is a soubrette voice, a girl's voice, a virginal voice. Contrast this for example with Sharifah Aini, who is capable of knowing coquetry and saturnine sobriety - with the same timbre. The second is the fact that she meanders all over her range in her decorations. She knows her strongest suit is her highest range (as has been shown beautifully in the first verse), and she insists on plumbing for depths that are simply not there. Mawi still sounds like a bull in a china shop, and is already showing strain in his upper register.

With these performance practices in mind, I set to composing the Harmoniepartitur. I have already pictured the song as a Bellini cantilena, so I set out to arrange it in that style. The introduction came easy to me:

An oboe solo was planned to evoke the reed instruments of the nobat. The main thematic material was given to clarinets. In later metamorphoses it was transferred to other instruments: trumpets, trombones, euphoniums; but the thematic re-capitulation was always given to the clarinets. I think the mellow refulgence of a well-played clarinet best represent the Malay ideal of the lenggok or the gemalai, the graceful turns and twirls one can see in Malay dances and silat. 

The second section is a waltz. I wanted the material to go to surprising places, and a transplanted waltz sounded ideal. There was a recapitulation, then progression into Allegro, in which the material travelled via Db major to many places, before re-settling in F minor. There are several tags, or 'codettes' as I call them, comprising of two-measures equivalent of  I-VImaj7. The music closes with another oboe solo before a final codette.

The instrumentation is very basic: flutes (with piccolo), clarinets, the saxophone quartet, French horns, trumpets, the lower brasses and percussion, with glockenspiel and tubular bells in the coda. The tubular bells were in fact inspired by Kitaro's land theme from Heaven and Earth. 

I loved the experience. However the arrangement process itself was quite harrowing. I have left the medium for three years, and it took me a few days to get my sea legs again. But it is quite finished as of today, and I hope for the best for this material, which is near and dear to me.

Seroja (wind orchestra) - © fUGA arts limited 2012

#47 thoughts on "fenesta che lucive"

Fenesta che lucive is a gorgeous Neapolitan song which is credited to Bellini, because its accompaniment and style is quite similar to Ah! non credea mirarti from his La sonnambula. Some even alleges that the real situation is the reverse, that Bellini copies this song; that the words are from 12th century and the music are from the 15th century, and hence is older than Bellini by at least two centuries!

***

Feneste che lucive e mo nun luce
sign'è ca nénna mia stace malata
S'affaccia la surella e mme lu dice:
Nennélla toja è morta e s'è atterrata.
Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola,
mo dorme co' li muorte accompagnata.


Va' dint''a cchiesa, e scuopre lu tavuto:
vide nennélla toja comm'è tornata
Da chella vocca ca n'ascéano sciure,
mo n'esceno li vierme, oh! che piatate!
Zi parrocchiano mio, ábbece cura: na
lampa sempe tienece allummata.


Addio fenesta, rèstate 'nzerrata
ca nénna mia mo nun se pò affacciare
Io cchiù nun passarraggio pe' 'sta strata:
vaco a lo camposanto a passíare!
'Nzino a lo juorno ca la morte 'ngrata,
mme face nénna mia ire a trovare!


The light is no longer in the window:
is my beloved sick?
I ask her sister; she tells me:
"My sister is dead, and she lays in the earth.
She had cried much, alone in her sleep,
and now she lays with the dead."

"Go to the church, she lays in her coffin:
See if she would return for you,
if her breath is sweet, or
if she lies with worms." Oh! mercy!
Dearest Father, look after my beloved,
keep watch, and lit a flame for her.

Farewell window, stay closed
my beloved will not come there anymore.
I will no longer walk by you,
but rather I shall walk by the cemetery!
Until the day when I shall die
and rejoin my beloved in death.

***

It is a very dark and intense song. Originally it was set for high voices, but of course it may also be transposed down for lower voices. Most performances only utilise the first two stanzas of the lyrics. There are several examples of approaches in which this song may be sung.



Fernando de Lucia (1860 - 1925) used a lot of portamenti and rubato. He was not afraid to use the pure head voice (as opposed to voix-mixte); on the other hand his high notes were extremely thrilling when sung in full voice. Sensitive diminuendos abound. I find a few interesting choices of phrasing, for example the hesitancy of sign'è ca nénna mia stace malata, symbolising a lover's doubt and worry. It is hard to ascertain the timbre, but the technical prowess displayed does suggest a musician in full control of his instrument.



Carlo Buti (1902 - 1963) chose a faster tempo, reminiscent of story-telling type of Verdi of arias, e.g. Tacea la notte placida. His reading was more crisp rhythmically, providing a forward drive in the narration. He also approached the phrase Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola similar to de Lucia: a voix-mixte durmeva, followed by a staccato-ed sola. Buti provided an interesting choice in the ending: by going up an octave to a beautiful F in mezza-voce.



José Carreras (1946) performed this song in a Berlin recital in 1987. The timbre is undeniably very beautiful, but on ascending the scale a certain harshness creeps in. He did not held the high Fs; in fact the phrases Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola (which he repeats twice in place of Zi parrocchiano mio, ábbece cura) sounded rushed. He did however manage a beautiful D in mezza-voce just before the end.



Dmitri Hvorostovsky (1962) performed this song in a Moscow recital in 1990. Apparently this is a bis performance; the audience was so enthralled they demanded Mr. Hvorostovsky to repeat this song! I am quite baffled by his choices in the lyrics: it is in a mixture of the original Neapolitan dialect and standard Italian. He had been upfront about his lack of training in bel canto, so his interpretation is a bit pale in comparison to de Lucia and Buti. Nevertheless, baritones should stick together! His legato is impeccable, and the timbre is so innately attractive you'd forgive a lot of thing. His high Eb was a bit too closed, but perhaps it was to fit with the pall mood of the song.