That Song that Reminds you of a Lost Lover; 19th-century Sampling

Technology has made it easy to sample music from the past; music filled with associations that can be made into a powerful background for lyrics of reflection and commentary. But long before electricity, Robert Schumann invented the concept of sampling.

In the tenth song of Dichterliebe we share the pain of a singer who is sick with memory. He hears a song that his lover used to sing--Schumann scores its tune as an introduction for piano alone.

The singer slowly raps over the progression, so that the melody of the vocal part lies on top of the song, meditating on it.

This lovely performance by Hélène Grimaud and Thomas Quasthoff is transposed from the bright G minor of the original into a darker E minor; making it sound even more like pop music:



The sampled song creates motion and emotion. In response [0:34] the music begins to climb and with a piercing Neapolitan chord [0:45] it modulates into A minor.

Hör' ich das Liedchen klingen, (I hear the little song sounding)
das einst die Liebste sang, (my love once sang,)

[0:57] Dark longing and deep forests are given voice through broken patterns; patterns on the edge of clarity that that recoil quickly into darkness. The texture does not change--it still whispers of his lover's rhythms.

so will mir die Brust zerspringen (and my heart wants to shatter)
von wildem Schmerzendrang. (from the wild rush of pain.)

[1:28] Unexpectedly, before the resolution back to E minor, the lover's song is heard in the highest register of the piano part--over the last two words of the text. This song will require purely musical responses.

Es treibt mich ein dunkles Sehnen (I am driven by dark longing)
hinauf zur Waldeshöh', (up to the forest heights)
dort lös't sich auf in Tränen (there is dissolved in tears)
mein übergroßes Weh'. (my supremely great pain)

[1:40] The lover's tune is now focused in a lower voice of the piano writing.
Grimaud accents it, understanding its significance. [1:48] The lover's tune now appears again in a lower register; it is being internalized.

The "supremely great pain" is finally unleashed in the cadenza.

Conversation in a hall of mirrors; Schumann's adagio and allegro for horn and piano Op. 70

The "Adagio and Allegro" for piano and horn written by Robert Schumann in 1849 needs to be heard for what it is not.

It is not a work for natural horn--it was conceived for a technological advancement: valves. Natural horns could produce sound with notes from a single overtone series. Players quickly learned to alter this series to add extra tones to the palette, but the instrument became associated with fanfares, processionals, and hunting riffs.

The "Adagio and Allegro" confronts this persona in its first gesture. The opening line begins without introduction, quietly, in the world of altered tones possible with valves:



The adagio is conversational but its patterning is elusive. In the first stanza the piano answers the horn [0:14] with a compressed gesture in 8th notes. Both lines are set in dizzy-speak.

In mirrored balance the horn [0:22] develops the piano line and the piano [0:29] develops the opening horn line. It is built in an XY-YX pattern.

The continuation is set in echos and despite the gentle lyrical colors the music spirals dangerously away. Finally the horn line locks into D-flat major [1:33] and triplets begin to stir the surface of the music. The way back home is not the way we came. Though some shapes look familiar is it by means of alleyways and narrow passages that we return home to A-flat major at [2:38].

In an effective performance the closing section can simulate floating; its gentle syncopations and cadenza-like horn lines grounding mirrors and echos.

The Allegro is constructed as a rondo in seven sections:
Part 1 [4:00], Part 2 [4:29], Part 1 [5:10],
Part 3 [5:40] in B major,
Part 1 [6:37], Part 2 [7:07], Part 1 [7:47]

Augustinian Conflict in a Schumann Song

The ninth song in Schumann's Dichterliebe is another Augustinian Conflict. The setting for this song takes place during a wedding celebration where everyone is dancing and having a great time except for the singer since his girl is marrying someone else:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1m2JtXzFQas 

Das ist ein Flöten und Geigen, (There is a flute and violin,)
Trompeten schmettern darein. (Trumpets blare away)
Trompeten schmettern darein. (Trumpets blare away)

Da tanzt wohl den Hochzeitreigen, (There dances in her wedding)
die Herzallerliebste mein. (The love of my heart)
die Herzallerliebste mein. (The love of my heart)

Das ist ein Klingen und Dröhnen, (There is ringing and droning)
Das ist ein Klingen und Dröhnen, (There is ringing and droning)
ein Pauken und ein Schalmei'n; (of drums and shawms)

dazwischen schluchzen und stöhnen (amidst it sobbing and moaning)
dazwischen schluchzen und stöhnen (amidst it sobbing and moaning)
die lieblichen Engelein. (Are lovely angels)


I recopied the lines that are doubled because the pattern changes: the first two strophes are [ABB] and the last two are [AAB].

In each of the four stophes there are three lines of text but the dance music groups into larger units of fours. How do we hear the extra grouping? Hearing each measure as a beat in a larger hypermeter the following pattern emerges:

(4,444)(4,446)+(4,444)(4,446)+(4444)

The opening four measure vamp seems like an introduction, but if we hear it as a downbeat then the entrance of the singer feels swept within the larger structure and is more consistent with the augustinian conflict in the setting.

Like several other songs in this cycle the harmony oscillates, here between phrase groups in D minor and G minor like this:

(D minor)(G Minor)+(D Minor)(G Minor)+(DGVV)

In the last phrase the alternation happens at the level of the phrase rather than at the level of phrase grouping, and the last two phrases prolong the V of G which also sounds like a picardy third in D minor. Great stuff.

For a completely different view of this song listen to track 12 of the 1999 recording called "Love Fugue" by jazz pianist Uri Caine. Caine brings the poet's angst into a setting that could evoke a late-millennium wedding reception. This witty presentation is wordless and generally light on conflict, but the progressions around the circle of fifths played by this ensemble causes one to hear with greater accuracy the jazz in the original Schumann.