The Star Mangled Banner

I doubt that there is another song more abused then our national anthem. The off key singing of the sports fan who had one too many at the tailgate party, the celeb whose agent thought it would be a could career move to belt it at a ball game (hello Rosane Barr), the wanna be pop star who is nothing without his auto-tune - all have been guilty of high crimes and treason when it comes to singing "The Star Spangled Banner."

To begin with, I doubt very many consider the meaning of the words. In fact, I know many in the general population don't even know them. Every year I audition high school seniors who hope to be selected to sing the national anthem at graduation. They forget the words, swap phrases, add words, invent new lyrics, sometimes even invent words - and you can't blame it all on nerves. I can't tell you how many times I've heard "o'er the land, and of the free." I would bet that most don't realize that "o'er" is a contraction and not the word "or." Admittedly, the lyrics are not Shakespeare, but I have yet to hear them sung as if the singer had any sense of the meaning, drama and poetry they do contain.

Then there's the range. This presents an understandable challenge for non-singers, but I've heard botched public performances by people who should know better, usually because they didn't consider the pitch of the first note. Singers will usually start too high, and then, midway through, realize that the "rockets" are going to be glaringly out of their range. Their usual solution is to quickly modulate to an arbitrary key (pick a key, any key). Every once in a while some overly optimistic soul will just belt away, painfully bursting vocal cords and ear drums as they screech out those top notes.

Lastly, and perhaps the most egregious sinner of all, is the pop singer who considers the melody a mere framework on which to plaster as many runs, riffs, twists, turns, and other musical mischief as possible. The result sounds something like a musical seizure. Any relation to the original tune is purely coincidental. Sadly, audiences usually think this is a good thing and reward the singer with cheers and applause.

Yes, America is the "land of the free," and we are free to sing our anthem any way we want. Freedom, however, brings with it certain responsibilities. One of these ought to be singing "The Star Spangled Banner" in tune, with stylistic sensitivity, and with thoughtful consideration of the words.

Choral Festivals

The Taft Vocal Ensemble recently took part in a Music in the Parks festival at Disneyland. The experience was a very positive one in many ways. The students, understandably, were excited about winning a couple of first place trophies. I was interested in what the judges had to write and say about our performance.

I remember the first time I took the Vocal Ensemble to a festival. It was about 15 years ago, and I thought we were pretty good. When I got the judges written ratings, I was disappointed to have received just good and excellent ratings (superior being the top rating). Every negative comment I had ever heard about choral adjudicators popped into my head - they don't know what it's like in the real world, they are biased toward certain schools, they favor a particular conductor, they only like certain musical styles...

It was only when I listened to the adjudicators' tapes that I understood why we received our somewhat low rating. Under their spoken comments I could hear our group. Suddenly I heard how out of tune we really were, how bright our vowels were, and how off the balance was. Why hadn't I heard this before?

As most school music directors will tell you, one's ears become accustomed to the sound of one's groups. I think the brain must compensate and fool us into not hearing problems - probably some kind of self preservation instinct! Recordings help us to hear accurately, especially if we've had a break of several days from our group. A good adjudicator can also open our ears to reality with the added bonus of being able to suggest ways to improve.

At first it wasn't easy to accept the judges' criticisms. Then all my lectures to students about how criticism helps us grow came back to me. So, I swallowed my pride (are rather large swallow!) and began to strategize on how to improve. The going was slow, but eventually we started to move in the right direction.

Now, years later, we are a much better group. Still, as I listen to the tape and comments from our last festival, I realize that there are many areas where we can do better. I guess the only thing scarier then facing our shortcomings would be to not recognize them and not know how to improve.

On Writing a Musical Part 7

The performance of the musical, The Girls of Crabbottom, went well. The students enjoyed doing the show, audience response was positive, and in general, the show "worked." There were a few things that worked less well than others, however.

Timing is everything, and for me it is one of the more difficult things to gauge when I am in the act of writing. What I thought was important, insightful dialogue can occasionally just drag. What should have been a funny line can get lost. A song with what seemed to be clever lyrics can go on too long. 

To be fair to myself, it is hard to say how much the acoustics of Taft Hall played in the apparent slow pacing of one or two scenes. When the audience is probably only hearing 50% of the lines, it is only natural that a few spots can seem to drag. Still, there were only one or two places that I think can be tightened a little. Overall things moved fairly well.

The importance of context in presenting humor is another concept that was reinforced for me. There were a few lines that I did not think were very funny, but always got laughs, mostly because their placement served to release tension for the audience. Conversely, there were a couple of lines that I thought would get laughs and didn't, perhaps due to where they occurred.

Musically, the songs worked well. Crabbottom ain't Don Giovanni, but frankly, it shouldn't be. The songs were easy to follow, and a few even memorable. I didn't try to do too much with them and they didn't get overly complex. There's no retrograde inversion of the melody buried in the 2nd alto sax countermelody, but there are some very hummable tunes.

All in all, the plot held together well and kept the audience following the show. The characters were engaging and kept people interested in what happened to them. The songs were catchy when they needed to be, and expressive when that was the focus. The orchestration, if not totally authentic, was "close enough for jazz." If I write another musical, the lessons I learned from Crabbottom should be very helpful.

On Writing a Musical Part 6

I never played a lot of jazz and when I did it was back in my first few years of college. I am more of a choral person and my principle instrument is classical guitar, so I never developed a good ear for orchestration. Therefore, the prospect of orchestrating the musical for a 1920-30s jazz band was a little intimidating. Given that I had very little time to do it in also added to my anxiety.

I started off by listening to jazz bands from the era to try to get a feel for the sound. The late 20s to early 30s was an interesting transitional period. Small jazz and Dixieland combos had been around for a while, but it was before the polished big band sound of the 40s. I liked the raw and occasionally unrefined voicing of the instruments. I enjoyed hearing orchestrators experiment with the instruments.

My next step was to get a few scores to examine. I ordered Fletcher Henderson's "Variety Stomp" from a site on the Internet. Due to some email SNAFUs it took me a couple of weeks to get it, however, the owner of the site very kindly gave me a lot of advice. He described what instruments were in a typical band of the period. He told me about typical sax voicings, how instruments were combined, and a little on how the drums were played during that era. Any success I had in my orchestrating is due to his advice; any failures are due to my own ignorance and incompetence.

I started orchestrating with pieces that I knew were going to be less typical of the period, or were going to be primarily piano. As I got a feel for things, I moved to the heavier and more era specific songs. By the end, I felt that I was able to produce a plausible sound, at least to an audience that was not real familiar with the style of the period. Close enough for jazz, as they say.

Through the process, I learned that I am not a detail person by nature, and that orchestration requires a great attention to detail. Careful dynamic markings and phrasing can save a great deal of time in rehearsal. Clearly marking sections, watching note spellings (especially after the instrument has been transposed), and checking voice leading also can make things go easier.

The computer software (I used Sibelius) was indispensable. I am old enough to remember the days of hand writing everything and I do not miss the sore fingers and stiff neck! I learned little tricks along the way. One was to set up a template that can be reused for each song. Another little trick for parallel sax voicings was to just copy and paste the alto 1 part into the alto 2 part and then move the notes down a third to put them in the ballpark (and then of course adjust the pitches to fit the harmonies). The same could be done for the tenor part. I also learned that having a complete piano/vocal score before hand made things much easier. I only needed to copy that into the full orchestral score and then pull lines and harmonies out for much of my orchestration.

Once we got into rehearsals, the biggest problem I found was that the jazz band often overpowered the singers. This is in part due to the horrible acoustics of our performance venue (Taft Hall - a multipurpose room with hard walls and floor, low ceiling, and rectangular in shape). If I turned the singers' microphones up, the echo in the hall turned everything to mush. If I kept the microphones low, one couldn't hear them sing. The kids in the band did their best to play softly, but it was always a challenge.

My orchestrations in this regard were no busier or fuller than those of the period. I wonder how they did it back then with little or no amplification of the singers? I ended up cutting a few parts and thinning out a few sections to help mitigate the acoustical problem.

Another issue I had was the ability of our student musicians. They did a great job for high school kids, but there were certain places that were challenges. The first alto parts were often written very high back in the late 20s and are part of what give the music its distinctive sound. This can be tough even for our very talented first alto player. I had to compromise and avoid the extreme high notes whenever possible. In addition, trumpet parts were in a few places a little high for our trumpeter, and violin intonation is always a bit of a problem at the high school level.

Drum notation was also an issue. Usually the drummer is given a suggested outline of what to play and is then left to interpret and improvise the rest. This works well with a drummer who is versed in the style of the times, but is not appropriate for a high school student. Unfortunately, I don't know enough about drumming, especially from that era, to be of much help. Our drummer is an excellent percussionist and did an adequate job for the show, but I'm sure there were a lot of anachronisms in his playing.

Finally, I was reminded on how having a strong pianist is essential for a musical - especially at the high school level. We hired in a very talented lady who did a wonderful job. She covered parts when needed, reinforced vocal lines when necessary, and in short, held things together. She, however, could not make all the early rehearsals, and I used student pianists for those. I was surprised at what a good job they did. With the exception of one or two sections, they could have played the whole show and saved me some money.

In the end, the band sounded very good and the orchestration was passable if not always authentic. The acoustics were still bad and probably half the lyrics were lost. Nevertheless, it was a good learning experience for me and hopefully a bit of fun for the singers and instrumentalists.

On Writing a Musical Part 5

A few weeks ago I came across a blog entitled "Can Ordinary People Burst into Song." The blog discussed, among other things, the problem of moving from dialogue to song in a musical. In real life, people don't just burst into song, so when this occurs in a musical, it can disrupt the audience's belief in the reality of the play.

Though this can be problematic, when handled carefully it is not as big a problem as it seems. To begin with, when one goes to see a musical, one expects to hear the actors burst into song. The mere expectation of song makes the actual occurrence less jarring. Also, there are certain conventions and techniques for how a composer can work into a song: a soft instrumental background introduction, a recitative-like vocal introduction, an opening with sprechstimme (words spoken in rhythm and on pitch or approximate pitch).

Another technique involves the spoken setup before the music begins. There are textual clues an author can put in the script that let an audience anticipate that a song is about to begin. These clues can be enhanced with an actor's speaking style, blocking, and staging.  Again, the expectation of song eases the transition for the audience.

For me, a bigger problem than the transition into song is the question, why put a song here in the first place? What is it in the text that can justify a disruption of the plot so that a song can take place? As an actress might say, "What's my motivation?"

Songs can perform certain dramatic functions that make them more beneficial than just giving the audience a tune they can remember. Here are a few thoughts on how that can work with examples from West Side Story.

Songs can intensify an emotional moment such as in a love song. The emotions of a character compels him or her into song ("Maria," "There's a Place for Us"). Songs can act as a Greek chorus, giving voice to what an audience is feeling, what a group of characters is feeling, or commenting on the drama ("Cool"). Songs can help with pacing. A nice lively song can perk up an audience after an intense but slower paced scene ("America"). They can function like an aside to the audience, letting them know the inner thoughts or feelings of a character ("Something's Coming"). Songs can provide comic relief in a way that wouldn't be as effective as spoken text (the circus-like music in "Gee, Officer Krupke").

There are also cases where songs serve the drama in ways one would never expect. One wouldn't normally think that a song would be a good way to win an argument, yet in "A Boy Like That," Maria's convincing Anita to help her is more believable to the audience because it is sung.

I am certainly not an expert on musicals, and I am sure that others can add much more to what I've written. I would be interested in hearing other thoughts and opinions on the subject.

On Writing a Musical Part 4

In my high school days I wrote rock songs for my band. In college I wrote contemporary art songs for my recitals. The songs in a musical lie somewhere in between cyclical rock chord progressions and complex harmonic and melodic art music. Therein lies the fun and the challenge.

In any kind of pop music the key is to write a song that is going to be easily grasped by the audience and have instant (or near instant) appeal. If you have to hear it five times in order to "get it" it is already too late. The hook as a pop song writing technique is still viable because it addresses this issue. In popular music it is not crucial to craft melody and harmony that subtly comment on or reinforce individual words or phrases of the lyrics.

In classical music, however, the opposite is true. While there are plenty of classical arias or art songs that have a certain instant appeal, the focus in many pieces of art music is on the "illumination of the text." The composers job is to craft a musical setting that enlightens the listener to the meaning and emotions found in the lyrics. The definition, sound, stressed syllable, and context of very word is considered while creating the melody, harmony, dynamics, texture, and accompaniment. Subtlety and attention to detail are critical.

The songs in a musical lie somewheres in between these two extremes. It is always good to give the audience a few tunes that they can go out singing (this is even true in many operas). But there are other places in a musical where the one can sacrifice a catchy melody in favor of melody that pays close attention to the details of the text.

For me, part of the trick to writing a musical is to know when to do which. Generally, opening numbers and finales should grab the audience's attention and be somewhat memorable. Dramatic high points may be places where the emotional content of the music is more critical than a hook based tune. And in at least a couple of places interspersed in the musical there should be some tunes that will stick in the audience's mind long after the final curtain. One may also want to consider leitmotifs, returning themes, and other musical devices that can make a musical work.

Of course, all musical books are different and require adjustments to the above. Furthermore, a song with a catchy melody can capture subtle elements in the lyrics and an "artistic" melody can have a nice hook as well. It is up to the musicality and artistic sensitivities of the composer as to how to navigate between these elements.

On Writing a Musical Part 3

As I mentioned in my last post, the plot to my musical was simple, but despite that (or perhaps because of that) characters and themes began to suggest themselves to me.


The main characters are as follows:

• Crabbottom - thirty something; misquotes Shakespeare; a somewhat lovable rum runner with gangster ties; his father, who also was a gangster, founded the home for wayward girls.
• Sister Salvation - thirty something; runs the home; has a belief that there is good in everyone.
• Willie - late teens; newspaper boy; a dreamer, likes Molly.
• Molly - late teens; one of the wayward girls; pragmatic; a 1930s style feminist.

The characters each had a slightly different look on life which fascinated me. Would the dreamer learn to deal with reality? Would a pragmatic girl dare to take a leap of faith? Would the the gangster learn to do good? Does God have a plan for all of us, or is the world an undetermined arena where we must find meaning and good?


The challenge, and the fun of it all, was to unobtrusively layer these ideas on to the scaffold of the simple plot. Cliches, throw away lines, misquoted Shakespeare, these might all be embedded with a deeper level of meaning without getting in the way of the entertainment.


Then, when I was nearly done with the book, I came across a quote from Anatole France, "To accomplish great things, we must not only act but also dream, not only plan but also believe." This fit the play perfectly and the quote would be a motto for the home for wayward girls.


I thanked my luck (or was it preordained fate?), but was also glad that I didn't come across the quote too early in the writing. I would have been tempted to make each of the characters "fit" - the dreamer, the planner, the doer, the believer. If I had done so, I think the characters would have been iconic and one dimensional. So, the characters don't match up perfectly (real people never do), but suggest and at times are in conflict with these themes.


I don't know how well I succeeded in any of this. For me, however, it was the fun and creative part of writing that kept me going.