Earworms

As a music major, I often have a hard time relating to some of you Schreyer geniuses.  You all can relate on your biology and chemistry classes, and I’m often left with little to talk about, unless you all are interested in how a pre-dominant chord progression contributes to the harmonic function of a Bach Fugue. Experts in the music field often use their skill and knowledge to brag and impress others, but I think that music is one of the most relatable topics in the world.  One of the main reasons that I became a music major is that I love the concept of communicating an emotion without using words at all, and some are now separating the connections that people can make through music because of percieved power inequalities.  I believe that an outsider’s opinion of a song is just as valid as an expert’s, and all I ever hear are the opinions of experts on classical music and the opinions of non-experts on pop music.  I really wanted to switch this up.

By showing you guys a classically trained analysis on some of my favorite songs, I hope you begin to understand music in a deeper way. These earworms that we hear on the radio are conceived with just as much delicacy as your chem labs, and there is so much detail in every single track that often goes unnoticed.  Maybe by seeking out these details, we can all start to find the beauty in both the deep intricacies and simplicities in our everyday life.

All music has grown from the same influences, whether you’re talking about Katy Perry or Leonard Bernstein.  Although I only touched on it a bit, some of today’s rappers are utilizing risky techniques such as extremely syncopated rhythms, rare time signatures, and experimental chord progressions.  I’d like to believe that the reason pop music is progressing in the same direction as classical music is because human beings, in general, like to challenge themselves.  A common theme in this blog is the concept of wrapping your head around a rhythm, and then growing upon it.  Although this is true anecdotally, it also holds true on a macro level.  Once we understand the sound of a simple I IV V chord progression, we get bored of it.  We want more.  We want something more difficult to understand. Hopefully you guys get as much satisfaction out of listening to funky rhythms as I do, or else this entire philosophy just relates to me.

Overall, I hope you guys enjoyed my analyses.  Looking at things from a different point of view is a skill that we all should posses, and what better way to start than with little three minute songs we’ve all had stuck in our heads at least once?

Is it possible for me to write this blog without bringing up one of the most popular and controversial songs of my tweenhood? Its time to face the elephant in the room, and his name is Justin Bieber.

The first five seconds of this song sent shivers of nostalgia down my back, not going to lie.  It took me a little bit of conducting to realize just how fast this song is.  According to my metronome, “Baby” clocks in at around 132 BPM, which any classical musician would easily classify as allegro.  The fast pace gives listeners the illusion of movement, even though theres not really anything too interesting going on in the details.

It starts off with a simple piano rhythm and Justin singing some sweet sweet runs to give the audience a feel for the general chord progression of the song, which rarely changes.  After our listeners are on board with the chord progression, Justin can begin singing his wildly egotistical lyrics, which rightfully start with the bold words “I know you love me.”  This case is similar to Ariana Grande’s in that the lyrics were so iconic that they didn’t need a whole lot of background instruments.  In this song’s peculiar minimalism, the producers chose to include some “woah woah”s in the background vocals and an extremely fast bass-drum-and-hand-claps rhythm that we all know and love.  Justin is also accompanied by very faint guitar, which embellishes with tinny rhythms mirroring the piano introduction.  This texture remains thin until the build, when everything cuts out and then grows suddenly in what I can only describe as a spaceship’s imitation of a piano glissando (0:43).

Once Justin enters the chorus and sings his most profound lyrics of all time, “baby, baby, baby, oh,” the background instrumentals start to get a tad more complicated.  The same bass drum rhythm is being played, but its now accompanied by some sort of shaker.  This instrument plays on every single sixteenth note, which puts just that one rhythm at a staggering 528 BPM.  It is because of this miscellaneous fast sound that the music has any sort of excitement.  Without it, we would be left with a now-boring drum beat, a synthesizer melody on the downbeats, and Justin’s vocals, which are the same three notes over and over.  The sixteenth notes push the music forward and add some sort of much-needed chaos to the music, but its quiet enough that its almost undetectable. To get us ready for verse number two, the producers use the funky spaceship sound again.

This time, the verse has a bit more oomph.  Instead of just percussion, background vocals, and conservative guitar part, a new, more electric sounding guitar plays the piano motif we heard in the beginning. Not much in this verse is different, though, except for when it comes to the build into the chorus.  Last time, all we really heard was a slight crescendo,  but this time around, the texture completely cuts out while Justin dips low in his range.  At about 1:36, the dramatic silence makes listener’s ears perk up in anticipation for the chorus.

I’d like to say that Justin doesn’t disappoint after this build-up in energy, but this chorus is almost exactly the same as the first one.  I love a good structural crescendo, but Justin and his producers seem to think that repetition is key.

So thats “Baby.”  The song is catchy as anything, and I believe the producers knew that this song would be scream-sang by fans instead of analyzed by a freshman music major at Penn State, because they did not give me a lot to work with.  Moral of the story: Egotistical teenagers with a catchy melody are literally unstoppable with a boring enough accompaniment.

My dad was a huge Queen fan growing up, and naturally my love for the group has only grown since he’s enlightened me to his huge collection of albums.  After seeing the movie “Bohemian Rhapsody” in theaters with him over Thanksgiving break, I knew I had to at least attempt to figure out just what it is about Queen’s music that makes them so lovable.

This song is one of their more popular ones, and its one that a lot of people know and love without really understanding why.  I’ve found that a lot of rock music is like that, but in ways that differ from pop music.  Maybe I’m a musical cynic, but I think today’s music industry uses things like autotune and synthesizers to provide hollow support to melodies so simple its impossible for them to leave your head.  Rock music, though, is rich and passionate through and through.  Big bands used to attract tons of people because their music didn’t pretend to be something it wasn’t- the melodies were sweet, the percussion was loud, and the instrumentalists were live.  People went nuts.  Now, people pay hundreds of dollars to see an artist sing in autotune with a pre-recorded backtrack.  It seems ingenue to me, but thats enough bashing on today’s music. Here’s everything I love about this song, never mind how it compares to Five Seconds of Summer.

The track starts off with Freddy Mercury introducing the main motif of the song.  Even though this line, “can anybody find me somebody to love”, gets repeated many many times throughout the song, each time the band sings it is completely stylistically different.  This introduction is slow, but grand as ever.  The harmonies are thick, the rhythm is heavy on the downbeats, and the piano mirrors the vocals with chunky chords.  In my opinion, this is a perfect way for the listeners to meet the song.  The first impression is always most important, and now when the audience hears this motif later in the chorus, they already know it.

If Queen would have continued with this slow, thick texture, the song would have become unlistenable very quickly.  Instead, Freddy changes the entire mood with a simple piano melody, joined shortly by vocals and drums.  The simple trio works very well together, especially considering that the melody ranges a staggaring nine tones.  To put this in perspective, in Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next,” the verse barely ever stretches over three notes. So, the band has more of a background role in the song while Freddy coaxes his audience’s ears into understanding this complicated melody.

After repeating the verse again with similar lyrics and background instruments, the band evolves into something different.  Around 1:45, the entire chord progression changes into something more edgy.  The percussionists add a faster rhythm, which offers a ton of drama, and the background vocals start to take the lead.  This section almost reminds me of a four part chorale, something that Mozart used to write a lot of.  The melody was usually in the highest voice, and all four voices moved at the same time to very explicitly outline chords.  Whenever the background vocals have the spotlight, they’re using this same exact style of writing.  Thanks, Mozart!

After this dramatic crescendo ushered by the percussion and vocalists, the guitar finally gets a chance to shine.  This break from Freddy’s vocal acrobatics is refreshing, and Brian May’s awesome solo has been the inspiration for many an air-guitar impression.  To ease out of this solo, the band reintroduces the chorale-like background vocals and Freddy again sings the kicker “somebody, somebody, can anybody find me somebody to love” of course changing it slightly to keep the audience interested (and probably to show off a little, knowing him).

After repeating the verse another time, Queen incorporates yet another vastly important aspect of classical music and pop music alike- layering.  The most basic form of the layer is introduced simply, usually by itself (this was primarily adopted by Bach in his many many fugues) and then other voices and instruments play similar melodies on top of it, adding drama and volume with each addition.  The section starts with one singular low voice singing “find. me. somebody to love.”  Each time this phrase is sang, another, higher harmony leapfrogs above it.  Soon, percussion adds a very basic beat, in this case, handclaps.  Guitar enters, Freddy starts wailing above the ostinato, and the vocalists all race towards the top of their ranges to build as much pressure as possible.  This, my loyal readers, is how Queen creates one of the best builds in music history.

Overall, this masterpiece of a song represents some of the best things about rock music in general.  From the genuineness of the sound to the heartfelt lyrics, this piece is a true and honest banger.  It is both rich and simple at the same time, and I firmly believe that Mozart would be proud.

Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll ever find another song as perfect as this one.  This might be one of the more difficult posts for me to write; this song excites me so much, it will be hard to find the right way to describe it without completely understating. I’ll try to wrap my head around it anyway.

Jason’s song, from my understanding, was co-written with an unbelievably talented jazz pianist named Jason Brown.  I highly encourage you to read about his journey into the making of this song, which appears on his personal blog here. http://jasonrobertbrown.com/2016/09/19/wrote-song-ariana-grandes-album/  You can also listen to the piano track stripped away from the percussion, strings and vocals, and if you’re a total geek for jazz piano (*ahem* Shagun) try to keep your head from exploding, like mine did.

The piece starts off with a few minimalist jazz chords in a funky, syncopated rhythm.  After a few bars, some clear snapping enters on beats 2 and 4, to keep the track bouncy.  Jason’s left hand starts introducing a monstrous baseline; one of the best things about this song is the fact that the piano part is ever changing.  The piece moves you along at a pretty fast pace, especially compared to some of Ariana Grande’s other, less exciting works (see my last post).

The first time I heard Ariana’s vocals to this song, I was heavily impressed.  The melody that she sings barely coordinates with the rhythm of the piano at all, and it took a bit of energy to wrap my head around it.  Just as soon as I was satisfied with the simple one-note vocals, it switched into something else.

At 0:35, the chord progression changes, and some thick background vocals enter.  The baseline and piano part maintain their upbeat rhythm, but Ariana starts really showing off her incredible range.  It’s not often that a verse will split off into a completely different melody, and its even more rare that they both are good.  Another interesting aspect of these phrases is the random appearances of various instruments.  Instead of having a guitar strum the entire time, the producers added sudden, tinny embellishments at the beginning of each phrase: A fun strings rhythm here, a funky slap-bass solo there.  As courageous as all of this is, the aspect of the bridge that threw me the biggest loop happens right at the end.

Throughout all of music history, from Gregorian chants to Katy Perry, four bar phrases have been the norm, and only some serious musical ballers have dared stray from this.  Ariana Grande is now one of these serious musical ballers; she joins the hall of fame that includes classical composers like Schubert and Liszt.  Instead of the predictable four bar phrase, she adds another measure of music and the line becomes an almost unheard-of five bar phrase.  The harmonic function of this fifth measure is an extension of the dominant chord, meaning she adds an incredible amount of tension and build-up by delaying the entrance of the chorus.  For four whole beats, she continues her vocal theme, the piano plays some very obscure chords one after the other, and the percussion thins away into nothing more than a loud snap. Baller move.

After really building up the chorus, it becomes very difficult to introduce a new melody thats impressive enough to live up to the hype.  Surprise, surprise, Ariana comes through for us.  This chorus (starting at around 0:55) starts heavy on the downbeat, which adds a lot of movement to the song.  Some other background aspects are also introduced, such as some female vocalists, electric guitar, and thicker percussion.  I was almost disappointed with the lack of piano in the chorus, until I got to the piano solo.

Often, in today’s music, piano is used as nothing more than a filler instrument, or something to arpeggiate stupidly simple chords so that Adele can sing a power ballad overtop. Jason Brown’s solo is literally a dream come true for a hopeless piano enthusiast like myself.  I by no means consider myself an expert at the piano, but usually I know enough to analyze chord progressions or offer some insight into the creative process of the soloist.  In this case, however, Jason has played circles around me.  For this specific minute of the song, I’d prefer to just listen and fangirl instead of try to nitpick Jason Brown’s creativity; pretending to understand the genius of the man would be borderline offensive.

Jason’s song is a true example of everything I wish today’s artists produced.  Its creative, catchy, and I still haven’t tired of it.  It’s complicated enough to engage its entire audience, but the vocals are simple enough to comprehend.  I’m exceptionally impressed with the courage that Ariana put into this song, and I hope to see more like it.

Ariana Grande has recently been through a lot.  She’s always in the news because of some startling drama, and the producers are extremely aware of that.  It is because of this controversy that I believe the writers of this song made it so unbelievably repetitive and borderline boring.  This song is more of a diary than an actual piece of well-written music, and the producers have done everything they can to draw attention to that fact.

The song starts of with an introduction to the basic rhythmic motif that follows Ariana throughout the song.  We hear one high, slightly syncopated instrument that blurs together each note it plays and one baseline that isn’t nearly low enough to provide much support to Ariana’s vocals.   Then, before any other more interesting layers are introduced, Ariana enters with a very prominent melody.  The background texture begins to utilize some faded percussion, but the emphasis is definitely on the vocals.

Coincidentally, when Ariana sings her most controversial line, “even almost got married, and for Pete I’m so thankful,” the song crescendos.  Additions such as a strong, sliding baseline and some clapping noises definitely grab the attention of the listeners.  I tip my hat to the producers that came up with this, because after all, this noticeable change will only add drama to this already powerful lyric.

Now, since the producers just added something actually musically intelligent into the score, they’ve got to back off and not make any sudden changes.  Again, they wouldn’t want to risk shifting the focus away from Ariana’s touching story.  So, the background texture remains the same so as to not distract from the very loud and very repetitive lyrics.

Suddenly, the high instrument from the introduction cuts out right around 0:35.  This baffled me a bit.  Usually right before a chorus is where we start to hear a build; producers want listeners on the edge of their seats. The song deviates strongly from the norm, and I see two possible explanations.

The first possibility: The producers thinned out the texture because they need some sort of crescendo or climax into the actual chorus.  The very first chorus, however, can’t be too complicated, so they had to scale back before they could grow again.  The second possibility: The change in texture mirrors the change in lyrics.  At this point, Ariana goes from describing specific parts of her life that affected her to an overall analysis of how she’s grown (“I’ve loved and I’ve lost, but that not what I see”). This more introspective point of view is reinforced by a calmer backing.  I’m not sure which of these possibilities motivated the producers more, but my best guess is that it was a combination of the two.

After stripping the texture just a bit more to add some tension, the chorus hits.  I expected either a big explosion of new rhythms and instruments, or a purposeful let down, which can be equally as exciting and surprising.  What I got, though, was right in the middle.  The background instruments barely changed from what we heard in the verses, Ariana only added a higher voice that reiterates the original motif that we heard in the very introduction.  This confused me a tad, so I started thinking about explanations, but honestly, I’m still a little dumbfounded.  My first intuition is that the producers, again, don’t want to distract the listeners from some sort of profound lyrics or important vocals, but the chorus is literally just three words over and over, with a little bit of flare when Ariana sings “I’m so f***in’ grateful for my ex.” Maybe the writers thought that this line would be so iconic by itself, it wouldn’t need a ton of instrumental support.  Beats me.

Overall, my disappointment with this piece stems from the producers’ focus on the economic value of it, rather than the musicianship.  I think that they could have reworked the instrumentation to have a more profound effect on the audience, but because of Ariana Grande’s important leverage in pop culture, it was possible to skate their way into the top 40 using the dramatic lyrics instead of the genuine catchiness of the song.  It’s an interesting tactic, and it definitely earned the song plenty of attention, all thanks to Ariana Grande’s fearless style.

Frank Ocean’s song, Pink + White, utilizes some truly genius musical theory concepts and most of them flew right over my head the first few times I heard it.  This style is new for this blog, but Frank Ocean still uses some of the same layering techniques to create a ~chill vibe~.

 

In this song, I’m going to focus on something I haven’t touched much on so far: counting.  When I say that deciphering this time signature caused me 15 solid minutes of hair-pulling frustration, I mean it; Frank Ocean did not make this piece with the intention of music analysis, thats for sure. That being said, the time signature is 6/8, which means that there are six eighth-notes in a measure.  This makes for a sexy pulse on beats one and four, and, as someone recently said to me, a song that makes you feel sexy is a great song (shoutout Franklyn). The first five seconds follow this pattern of ONE two-three FOUR five-six with a snare drum emphasizing these stressed beats, but something interesting happens in the next phrase (0:05).  The time signature calls for Frank to divide his measures into 6 beats, but instead he begins slicing the measure into four equal parts.  If anyone here is a visual learner, I encourage you to check out my illustration.

This complicated syncopation usually catches the ear of the listener, but oftentimes its difficult to figure out why exactly a rhythm sounds so, forgive me if I use a technical music term, crunchy.  The stressed beats in this song don’t always line up, and the listener is constantly on their toes waiting for the rhythm to resolve into cacophony.

Another aspect of this song that really caught my attention was the interesting key.  Honestly, I’m still not really sure if this song is major or minor.   The modality of the song depends on three notes, and if these three notes are raised a half-step, the song is major, but if they are lowered a half-step, the song is minor.  During the first two measures, the three defining notes are usually lowered, resulting in a minor sound.  But then, just as Frank did with the rhythm, he throws a curveball to knock the listener off his/her balance.  The next two measures are major.  This isn’t a coincidence, the entire rest of the piece follows this exact pattern: two measures of minor, followed by two measures of major, and its emphasized by the melody that Frank sings.  This confusion surrounding the key of a piece is so widely used by modern-day classical composers that we even have a term for it: atonality.  This means that the music lacks a tonal center or key, and this has an intense impact on the listener.  With no singular chord to settle into, we are constantly awaiting a cadence or resolution to each phrase, but to no avail.  Instead, we are set wandering through this piece of music without any tonal center to call home.

Overall, this song uses some legitimately impressive 21st century composition tactics such as syncopation and atonality, and I don’t doubt that someone like Beethoven would thoroughly enjoy peering into all of its genius layers.  This is a perfect example of how modern-day classical music can mirror pop music, and it really makes me wonder if these parallels are a result of one style inspiring the other, or, more interestingly, if the human mind has naturally developed the yearning for more complicated music on both sides of the musical spectrum.  If any of you ever meet Frank Ocean or Johannes Brahms, feel free to ask them.

Yael Naim’s song New Soul has always been one of my favorites, it implements many unorthodox instruments and vocal arrangements in order to create a joyful and, dare I say adorable mood.  Its message is one of juvenile curiosity and ambition, celebrating the vulnerability in making mistakes and learning about the world around you.  The background music to this piece is just as important of a support system to the message as the lyrics are.

 

In almost every layer of the song, you’ll find some sort of syncopation.  That is, the emphasized beat does not fall on one you’d expect.  Usually, the stressed/unstressed rhythm for a standard measure of music follows the ONE two THREE four pattern.  Likewise, if we split each beat in half, and count ONE-and-TWO-and-THREE-and-FOUR-and, the emphasized beats would be the numbers, not the “and”s.  Throughout New Soul, however, the instrumental parts do not follow these stereotypical patterns.

From (0:00) to (0:08), the introduction constantly uses upbeats to propel the music forward.  The right hand (higher pitched) piano part comes in on the second and fourth beats, and the left hand comes in on the “and” right before beats three and one.  In both voices, the result, at least for me, was not to forcefully tap a foot to a strong downbeat, but more to gently enjoy the lifts within the music like a sudden gasp of fresh air.

The first line of lyrics (0:08) does not add any more instrumentals, instead Yael sings overtop of the simple piano part.  This, similar to Katy Perry’s first chorus, introduces the audience to the verses without overwhelming them.  Once she sings the second line, a bass guitar joins in with the same rhythm as the left hand of the piano, therefore increasing the effect of the upbeats/syncopation, the drums join in to the same rhythm as the right hand, and the vocals become louder and thicker.

Then, when the chorus kicks in (0:28), a few more instruments add to the texture significantly. Here we have a whole collage of different instruments with their own unique parts, each one fitting together perfectly but still catchy enough on their own to draw the listener’s attention in a million different exciting places.  One aspect of this chorus that makes this song one of my all-time-faves is the use of the trombone.  This instrument is often overlooked, but I think the dull yet dignified tone works very well within this ensemble.

The next verse is a bit more complicated than the first verse because of the continued use of the trombone.  The trombone follows the left hand of the piano, (the “and” before beats three and one”) but changes the pitches around a bit and adds some delightful new motifs when the singer is taking a few beats of rest.  This new addition keeps the listener interested, because no one wants to listen to the same verse structure over and over.

After this verse is the chorus, which, to me, seemed very similar to the first chorus, until the piano incorporated a downright charming set of jazzy chords at the end of the first phrase (1:15).  I think this slight difference is just enough to add some flavor to the chorus without losing the audience in the texture, because the background is complex enough with its intricate net of syncopations and upbeats.

After chorus two, the trombones almost completely take over the melody and the vocals drop to mere accompaniment parts.  I think this is incredibly ambitious; as I said, the trombone is not a very popular instrument in today’s music.  This solo, however, I find adorable and very appropriate, especially considering the addition of hand claps on the offbeats.

The bridge to this song is slow and very simple; Yael suddenly uses a guitars flute, and a simple drum cymbal  instead of her other more percussive instruments to accompany her singing.  This change heavily contrasts the complex backgrounds in the rest of the piece and boasts the varying compositional capabilities of the artist.

After this bridge, the next part (2:15) maintains the adorable simplicity and incorperates simple soprano vocals and a descending chromatic scale in the right hand of the piano (2:25). I think this, again, is extremely ambitious, because incorporating so many pitches that don’t fall into the set key can sometimes throw off the ear of the listener.  However, I think the risk definitely pays off.  The descending scale follows the message of the piece: awkward and unbalanced situations should be welcomed for the learning opportunity.

Overall, New Soul holds a special place in my heart because it fearlessly uses the trombone, the piano, and a choir as vital components, all three of which I have actively practiced in my own musical career.  I believe this song hardly follows the rules of today’s music; instead it implements strange instruments and scales for the sake of the integrity of the song’s message.

When we think of musical geniuses, our minds jump back in time to harpsichords and powdered wigs.  Rarely do we think about the inner musical mechanisms behind the popular songs of today’s time, or why we find them so incredibly appealing.  Believe it or not, the producers of Top 40 Hits utilize some of the same intricate musical theory concepts in their pieces, and then they make millions of dollars off of a melody that literally repeats the same note over and over.  These two facts seem counterintuitive, but by analyzing the background texture of these blatantly simple melodies,  I was amazed at the producers’ cunning abilities to rope the listener in.

We’ve all heard Katy Perry’s “Firework” many times, and, if you’re like me, have probably all had it stuck in our heads for multiple frustrating hours.  If you’ve ever wondered why, its time to analyze the earworm.

(0:08) The piece begins with an intriguing introduction.  As expected, we hear the skeleton of a chord progression with some simple harmony as a way of introducing the audience to the basic pattern that the rest of the song will follow.  But whats the deal with the strange rhythm?  I found myself squinting at the first few measures, trying to figure out where the downbeat was to the song.  In other words, on which beats do I tap my foot?

Alas, my questions were answered within a few seconds with the sweet sweet sound of a kick drum.  (0:15) The confusion in the introduction, I realized, was intentional.  After all, finally understanding when to rhythmically nod your head or clap your hands feels as satisfying as finding the very last piece to a jigsaw puzzle.  Ta-da, the producer has already hooked the listener.

(0:32) Katy continues the same structure of melody into the next phrase, but the pitches are higher starting at the lyrics “do you ever feel already buried deep.”  She creates anticipation for the chorus- a melodic crescendo of sorts.  The audience tags along for this increase in energy, and then is surprised when Katy sings “you’ve just gotta ignite,” and all percussion suddenly dies and is replaced a new instrumental group- strings.  After 45 seconds of the same background pattern over and over, this change feels refreshingly simple and hypnotic.

(0:45) This pre-chorus section actually threw me a loop the first time I analyzed it.  The whole point of this section in modern pop music is to build anticipation for the chorus and that almighty beat drop.  I waited for a suspicious amount of time for any sort of crescendo or build in tension, and it only came near the end of the first chorus.  This first chorus, I previously thought, should be an awesome and intense climax filled with complex and high-energy rhythms and instruments, but I realized that, strangely enough, this tactic of keeping the same simple texture behind the first chorus is genius. Its a no-pressure introduction to the focal point of the song.  Without intense rhythm patterns and bass drum out the wazoo, the audience can respectfully shake hands with the chorus and get an idea of the melody before it becomes a high-energy dance party.

Now that the chorus and the listeners are well-acquainted, the texture thickens.  What started with a simple cello on the downbeat of every measure escalates to a rhythmic snare drum.  Next phrase: more strings in a basic beat, but this time they’re an octave higher.  Next phrase: a shhhhhhh sound that increases in volume.  After that, utter chaos.

(1:17) The music video shows kids jumping up and down in a party scene at this point in the song, and that’s exactly the kind of energy the producers are trying to communicate.  It’s extremely hard not to at least tap your foot to the chorus, and I fully attribute that to the bass drum.  It’s a stupid-simple rhythm. The percussion is literally bouncing up and down on every beat of the measure, but it keeps the audience’s interest.  We also still hear the oh-so-familiar rhythm that the strings used in the previous section, but this time it’s an octave higher and with more intensity than a cello could provide.  Ladies and gentlemen, we have repetition, the key to all earworms.  We already know the chorus because Katy just sang it in a stress-free way, we already know the transposed cello part, and on top of all of that, the chorus itself is just the same five notes over and over.

It is this feeling of familiarity and repetition that causes the listener to feel included in Katy’s music. The magical balance of knowing what to expect but still anticipating it with wide-eyed fascination is hard to achieve, but Katy and her producers do an excellent job.

Welcome to Sites At Penn State. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!