A Bruce Springsteen quote: “I’m driving in my car/I
turn on the radio.” The car radio gave me the impetus for my first blog about
memorable music moments, and serves as a second inspiration for more. This time
the focus is on dynamics. One of the definitions in Webster’s New World Dictionary defines dynamics as “relating to or
tending toward change.” Then down the list, “the effect of varying degrees of
loudness and softness in the performance of music.” Music students learn the
basics of soft (p) and loud (f), as well as the gradual crescendos
and decrescendos between them.
Back to the car.
I was listening to the oldies station and was forced to another station by a
song I couldn’t stand, and landed on the classical station. The DJ announced
the mother of all classical pieces: “Beethoven’s Fifth.” How can you turn the
channel from “Beethoven’s Fifth?” But how many of you have had the experience
of listening to classical music in the car? More often than not it is a
frustrating experience. Now you hear it, now you don’t. The obvious reason is
the use of dynamics. Pop music rarely takes advantage of the effect of dynamics,
unless it’s loud, louder, loudest. In fact if you’ve had studio experience, you
know that the final mix on a pop song has the dB meter riding consistently just
below the red. It’s a different story with instrumental classical music, where
a huge part of the effect of a piece is the use of dynamics.
Let’s take a
look at Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, in particular the First Movement. Everyone
can hum the four note figure in their head, and Beethoven milks it for all it’s
worth, loud and intense. At about 1:09, he pulls back and decreases the volume
and emotion, only to build up again. In this particular clip we hear some
terrific use of dynamics, in the beginning, and also at about 2:46, where we experience
the masterful use of crescendos and decrescendos throughout the First Movement.
Watch Toscanini as he makes sure that the French horn lick at 4:50 is
appropriately soft. It’s also interesting to note that Maestro Toscanini had
memorized all of Beethoven’s dynamics and needed no score. It all works because
this is concert hall music. People are being as quiet as possible, and no road
noise intrudes.
Though separated
by a century, setting, instrumentation and an ocean, Count Basie displayed the
same skill as Beethoven in the use of dynamic extremes to create excitement in his
work. With acoustic music, the most obvious way to increase the volume of a
band is to have more people play, with varying degrees of intensity. Look at
this version of the Count Basie Orchestra and their arrangement of “All of Me.”
This is classic Basie. The piece starts with just the rhythm section, Freddie
Green chomping away on the guitar, and Basie handling the melody in the most
subtle fashion. Just before the halfway point, at measure 15 and 16 (1:07), all
the brass and saxes slyly pick up their horns and lay into a three-note figure
that takes the dynamics of the band from double piano (pp) to triple forte (fff).
Perhaps some of you have had the experience of hearing the Basie band play this
chart. I heard it backstage at a concert and it scared the life out of me. Listen
to the audience. They applaud the dynamics! It’s a great moment. And of course,
it’s followed by a return to that subtle chunking rhythm, a driving force with
minimal volume.
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| Jerry Dodgion |
Saxophonist
Jerry Dodgion is most associated with the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra, but
in our interview from 1996 he cited his brief time with the Count Basie Band as
thrilling and unforgettable. Jerry spoke of the unique ability of the band to
play at both ends of the dynamic spectrum and still swing.
MR: Did
you get a chance again to record with [Basie]?
JD: Yes,
several years later. I didn’t even know it was with Count Basie which was good
because I would have probably been nervous. I got a call for three days of
recording with Chico O’Farrill on the answering service. And I showed up and it
was Count Basie’s band. I’m looking around and I said am I in the right studio?
So then I see Chico and I says I guess so. I mean that was really great. That
was a lot of fun too. That was an album called “Basic Basie.” And I even played
a few solos on that, which I was a little apprehensive about. I mean Lockjaw was
on that too and he made that great recording of “Bewitched” on one of those
dates. It was really wonderful to see this and be in there and be part of it
happening. Because I loved the music so much and heard it on records so much,
and heard the band in person. I heard the band in person a lot. And that band,
the band of the ‘50s and ‘60s was an unbelievable ensemble band. Maybe it was
really one of the best ever. They could play with the great swinging and
feeling and the emotion and everything. But together. And the ensemble was just
so together it was just thrilling. And the dynamics, unbelievable. I mean they
could play softer than we’re talking now, the whole band. And you’d still hear
the bass with no amplifier. Frank Wess would play the flute, Thad did some
things with flute and bass, and you could hear him. Now I don’t know — when the
amplification came in it changed everything, you know? The bass became louder
than the band and you could not hear the flute unless you turned up the mic and
when the flute player turns up his mic then the bass player turns up his mic
and then there’s the guitar player, forget it. And here were — and there’s no
end to this stuff. But the real sensitive part of playing acoustically, that
band just was the best ever. I just, I couldn’t believe it.
Is there
anything softer than triple pianissimo (ppp)?
The only answer is silence. A rarely used effect in music is the total absence
of sound. Two of my favorite musicians knew about it. Cannonball Adderley and
Joe Zawinul had a productive working relationship from 1961-1970. Joe wrote
many of Cannonball’s most notable pieces. Here’s an example from a live
recording in Chicago. The “Country Preacher” Cannonball refers to is a young
Reverend Jesse Jackson. Joe Zawinul composed the song and it starts in a
meandering fashion with his electric piano lick followed by some Cannonball
ruminations on the soprano sax. The band kicks into higher gear, reaching a
crescendo at 2:23, ending with a snare drum whack by Roy McCurdy. What can follow
that? How about three or four seconds of absolute silence, and then the most
subtle entrance possible? Effective? Check out the crowd. They went crazy for
the silence. That’s dynamic.
In a similar
fashion, Samuel Barber, composer of the work “Adagio for Strings,” may have
found himself in a musical quandary. Most people have heard all or part of this
piece, as it has been broadcast at solemn occasions and notably employed in the
Vietnam movie “Platoon.” This piece existed on its own for years and was first
written as a string quartet. It is a marvelous example of the use of dynamics.
No winds. No percussion. It’s simply a string orchestra at an imperceptible
tempo, building and building, slowly stepping from one dynamic level to the
next with rich harmonies. Barber’s composition climbs through seven highly
emotional minutes, challenging the listener to stay engaged. Finally it builds
to the point where you’re pleading for it to stop. And stop it does. What could
possibly follow this heart-wrenching crescendo? Nothing but silence. A good
three to five seconds of absolute silence is followed by a cautious reentry of
the strings, allowing you to breathe again. This piece is not served well
through your computer, so please plug it into your stereo system. Or, find a
recording, turn out the lights, get rid of the video, and be absorbed by this
piece.
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| Manny Albam |
Arranger Manny
Albam was interviewed in October of 1998. His work encompassed writing in the
fields of jazz, popular music and classical orchestration. He spoke about
dynamics and the potential power they have over audiences:
MA: Subtleties
work if you begin to manipulate the orchestra. And that is orchestration. And
that is what dynamics in orchestration do[es] for the audience. You suddenly
realize wow, they’re doing something I can’t quite hear, I’d better pay
attention. That’s part of audience manipulation. I did things orchestrated on
Broadway, not too much. I used to help other people and then I got my own thing
to do. And I worked with George Abbott, Mr. Broadway, a great director and all
that. And I wrote this great arrangement for one of the singers in the show and
he called me over and he said “we don’t want applause at the end of that.” I
said “no?” He said “no, we want that to dwindle off into the next scene and to
be a smooth thing that will go right into the next scene.” And I learned
something about that. They don’t want applause. If you want to bring the
audience to their feet you write these big chords and the rhythm section and
everybody’s wailing away, and the audience will go “hey! yeah!” and get up,
“encore! encore!” You know, the show stopper. But these things are for dramatic
changes that happen. No applause. I had to re-write the whole last twelve bars
of the thing to bring it all down to nothing and then the whole thing would
swing into place. Now once you learn things like that from other venues, in
other words this is drama, this has nothing to do with music, but music has got
a lot to do with drama anyway.
Dynamics leads
to drama.
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