Midnight Feast at the Temple of Springtime, Part II

Excellent! Most excellent! Here is the scrawl, which would certainly interest me if I happened to be reading my weblog. I would like to take this opportunity, though, to comment upon several points which I did not make yesterday, mostly musical points.

Looking upon the music, the first thing the astute reader likely notices is that it is written in colored ink, but there appears to be only limited significance to the color in which a particular note is written. Usually when a composer writes in colored ink, he is doing so to sort out musical complexity in a perfectly visual and obvious way. Well, astute reader, you are absolutely right; my color choices are completely arbitrary, the colors meaning no more than that I thought that a particular color better expressed a particular melody or harmony than the other colors at my disposal. I would have liked to have had gold, orange, or yellow ink, though, because I needed it upon many occasions.


Why, though, did I use colors at all? Well, when I sat down to work, I realized quickly that there would be no writing without a pen, so I wandered over to the old pen and pencil drawer to find one. As I sifted through the selection, black ink was for whatever reason hiding from me, but all these colored pens were right there. After a moment of frustration, I was given a revelation saying that I should use colorful ink, and it would be aesthetically pleasing, so I did. Only after removing several colorful pens did I find a black pen deep within the drawer, and all was very well.

The next notable point about this music is perhaps the vast quantity thereof labeled "Rubbish," which was done on the grounds that those sections were rubbish, and that I was required to write something else in their place. This is not a novelty. The kind and gentle readers may recall many scribbled-out sections in the previous postings of this variety.

Now, on to some musical matters. First, it is very G minor, as the doctor says. Nearly all the modulations are closely related to G minor, from D major to Bb major to C minor. This piece, then, is notably more diatonic than the previous two I have placed upon these internets, and this is fine. The diatonic system is an excellent system, even now, despite what the twentieth century might have us believe. The twentieth century, I hope, shall be something serious Artists giggle upon in the coming years, by the way, just as the philosophers often and ought to giggle upon it now.

Second, I ask you to look at all the patterns in threes and the multiples thereof. The first and last bits (thesis and synthesis) have their triplets, and the middle bit (antithesis) is written in 12/8 time, a time signature I have long burned to use. It requires that the beat be divided by fours into dotted half notes, just as common time would do to quarter notes. Also, as I mentioned in passing, there are supposed to be implications of ringing bells in many places throughout, especially in the middle section, which is essentially supposed to represent the ringing of bells. The most evident instances of this chime in twelves, signifying midnight. I also call to attention the left hand chords in the transition between the middle and third sections and at the conclusion. These are bells, very directly, some of which sound in terms of Scriabin's mystic chord. Scriabin, I remind the readers, frequently employed a color system as a basis for his composing, and he created a keyboard instrument that played colored lights rather than music.

So we have the introduction, then the first section, and then we have the second section, and then the third section, which is supposed to synthesize the first two sections. I am told that excellent music must be a synthesis, and that this is why it is artistically bad to jazz or to rock or to roll. I do not entirely agree, but a successful synthesis is good art every time, unless of course it is a synthesis of asinine ideas, in which case we have craft and not art. I trust that the readers appreciate these ramblings, for "it's such a fine line between stupid and clever" (David St. Hubbins). The synthesis is, of course, the use of those patterns in three underneath a superior variation on the first section. This is the aim of the great sonata form, to produce a thesis, antithesis, and then a synthesis in the exposition and development, and then to place the completion of the synthesis such that the recapitulation (a shortened exposition, essentially) creates the golden ratio upon that point. That last part I made up, but it is true, I think. Of course, the whole piece most basically is based upon the first four tones of any major or minor diatonic scale, and that provides a consistency that holds the whole together, for whatever it happens to be worth.

There are more comments I could make, but they are profoundly dull, and I could never hope to fully analyze this music, lest I sit down, theoretical texts in hand, to do so, and I am certainly not ever going to do that. The last thing I would like to point out is the last page, and how most of its notes are signified by arrows. It all made perfect sense last week, but now it is almost comic. It is a good thing I produced the final version the next day, with very visible changes. Also, my signature and the date 12 March 2008 are cut off the bottom, along with a comment about my days actually shifting at 6:00 am for reasons explained yesterday.

To conclude, I offer thrilling news, which is visible on the left hand of the weblog for easy and frequent access. It is a page with musical things on it, and for my knowledge thereof I blame Henry. In order to listen to these things, then, I place the link once more right here. In the name of Friendship, I implore you, please enjoy these things.

May each breath be a well of delight. Good day.