Month: September 2018

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.

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