19 may 2008

A VOZ, ESE INSTRUMENTO CASI MÁXICO (Xabimusic). Fío Musical, 15.

Tiven unha profesora de pedagoxía musical que lle chamaba ó corpo humano o "corpófono" pola cantidade de recursos sonoros que o corpo encerra. Ademais das posibilidades da body percussion, os propios órganos de articulación da voz tamén poden crear cantidade de sons que moitos intérpretes teñen integrado nas súas creacións. Todos coñecen seguramente as actuacións de B. Mcferrin como exemplo paradigmático.
Pero hoxe quero ofrecerlles unha auténtica curiosidade na que o protagonista é todo un coro.

15 comentarios:

  1. O anuncio é xenial e o coro, por suposto. Eu creo que xa o vira en TV, quizais nalgún programa deses que informa dos premios de Publicidade en Cannes ou noutro lugar. Aínda que sempre me queda a dúbida, ante estas cousas, sobre se non haberá algo de truco, por pequeniño que sexa...

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  2. Ademáis da voz, non esquezan un instrumento importante do "corpófono": o asubío.
    Parece ser que antigos sacerdotes exipcios tiñan códigos de asubíos secretos. Tamén nas Canarias había, non sei se persiste, unha linguaxe de asubíos entre pastores.
    Hai moitas canciós que non serían o mesmo sen algún característico asubío. Por exemplo, "Jelaous Guy", de Lennon. Traten de lembrar outras.Os asubíos dos homes son indistinguibles dos das mulleres, ao contrario que a voz.

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  3. Coido que Mc Ferrin é Ferrín cando canta, despois de tomar unhas copas, non si?

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  4. Un libro que quizais lle poida interesar, amigo Xabimusic. Póñolle os datos e un comentario sobre o mesmo:

    Toby Thacker. Music After Hitler, 1945-1955. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007.
    ix + 280 pp. Notes, bibliography, index. $99.95 (cloth), ISBN
    978-0-7546-5346-2.

    Reviewed for H-German by Richard Bodek, Department of History, College of Charleston

    Re-democratizing Music in Post-Nazi Germany

    In this solid, well-researched volume, Toby Thacker has produced a
    much-needed history of the Allied bureaucracy that controlled music
    during Germany's postwar occupation and of the music during the early
    years of the two successor republics. He has clearly spent a great deal
    of time in archives, as his footnotes refer almost exclusively to
    primary material. Rather than taking his readers down the well-trodden
    routes of musical analysis or autobiographical apologetics, Thacker's
    details show how the Allies--and later the FRG and GDR--saw music as
    both politically important and crucial to building a democratic culture
    on the ashes of the Third Reich. He splits his narrative into two parts.
    Part 1 concentrates on re-education under the Allies. Part 2 examines
    the years of the early republics, ending in 1955.

    The book's first half begins with an analysis of music and what Thacker
    calls "regeneration." He explains that Allied policy on music was
    riddled with conflict. The occupiers struggled both with each another
    and with themselves, working to resolve internal as well as external
    conflict about the proper role of music during the occupation. On the
    one hand, each occupying power had an interest in using German musicians
    to entertain its troops. On the other, at least initially, the occupiers
    felt a strong interest in denazification and the processes necessary to
    "democratize" German musical culture. Often different arms of the same
    occupying power tried to engage and censor the same musicians. In
    addition, each power had a very different idea of how postwar music
    should sound, even as all agreed that internationalism and modernism
    were necessary to release Germany from its musical hubris. The British
    and the Americans believed that the arts should be separate from
    politics. The Soviets saw music as inextricably intertwined with the
    building of socialism. The French believed that they alone had a musical
    culture that could civilize the Germans (p. 28). Although Thacker does
    not expand upon this point, it is well worth noting that the French had
    similar ideas about other fields of endeavor. For example, the
    University of the Saarland was founded in 1948 with much the same
    presumption of the value of French culture.

    Thacker's discussion of music's denazification shows the mixed results
    of the endeavor. As he reminds us, "[I]n all zones, and after 1949 in
    the East as well as in the West, there were composers, conductors,
    performers, and musicologists who resumed their careers and flourished,
    despite extensive involvement with Nazism. Given that in almost all
    cases they appear, though, to have abandoned Nazism as a political
    creed, and instead seem to have adopted historical materialism, a
    pro-Western liberalism, or an Olympian detachment from politics, we have
    to ask whether this issue of their pasts mattered at all" (p. 71) Only
    one piece of music written during, and popular in, the Third Reich has
    remained in the classical repertoire (Carl Orff's _Carmina Burana_ [from
    1936]). Overtly Nazi musicology, based on racial categories, has long
    been discredited. Still, _Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart_ (1949), a
    key musicological reference work, was written largely by tainted
    musicologists, and many performers who enjoyed successful careers in
    Nazi Germany enjoyed continued success in the postwar years. Probably
    the best known of these was Herbert von Karajan. Here a little
    comparative history would have put this information into a larger
    perspective, since the course of other areas of German life paralleled
    the unraveling of denazification during the Cold War.

    As Thacker moves on to a discussion of antifascism and music, he details
    the changes in programming that came with Allied occupation. The music
    of many composers neglected during the Nazi years returned to concert
    programs. Perhaps even more importantly, composers whose work had been
    banned became concert mainstays. Among these were Gustav Mahler, Felix
    Mendelssohn, Arnold Schoenberg, and a host of Russians. The one
    occupying force that seems to have been relatively out of step with the
    others when it came to such programming was the American administration.
    Rather than concentrating their energy on culture for the Germans, their
    early focus seemed to be on entertainment for their own troops. This
    priority was in line with the initial American desire for a relatively
    hard occupation. OMGUS (the American occupation bureaucracy) assumed
    that there would be very little voter support for concerts, at taxpayer
    expense, for presumably unrepentant Nazis. By 1947, however, even OMGUS
    was on board with providing a musical program for German civilians.

    The year 1947 seems to have been a turning point, as denazification took
    a back seat to the budding Cold War. Thacker, however, demonstrates that
    at least for a while, inter-Allied policy on music was not as divided as
    was the case with the other arts. The occupation forces collaborated
    relatively well for several years, going as far as giving a RM 12,000
    subsidy to the Inter-Allied Music Library in January 1948. Nevertheless,
    such cooperation did not last. Music was doomed to become as politically
    charged as every other aspect of life in divided Germany. Each side used
    music to generate as much propaganda as possible. This tendency grew
    with the establishment of separate German governments and their
    developing independence from occupation authorities; it was especially
    evident in the Bach Year of 1950, when each fledgling German state used
    concerts to claim the mantle of legitimacy and authenticity.
    Interestingly, however, despite the deep political divisions between the
    music bureaucracies in East and West Germany, Thacker is able to detail
    their deep agreement on certain issues--for example, veneration of the
    classics and a shared disdain for dance music and for jazz. As Thacker
    makes clear, this disdain was often expressed in terms not so far
    removed from those of the Nazis.

    In conclusion, Thacker weighs the successes and failures of the parallel
    rebuilding projects. The western Allies, in their attempt to
    internationalize German musical life, were largely successful. The GDR's
    attempt to build a socialist musical culture, however, failed for a
    number of reasons, ones that parallel other problems of the regime. For
    example, the top-down bureaucratic structure attempted to reject such
    international movements as dissonance and electronic music while
    creating a new musical tradition consisting of oratorios and cantatas in
    the "realist" mode. Furthermore, this new tradition was supposed to
    break down the barrier between performer and audience. Although the
    state did involve more workers in the production and reception of
    serious music than was the case in West Germany, even on its own terms
    the numbers were nothing like what the musical hierarchy had hoped for.
    _Music After Hitler_ will be of great interest to historians of the
    postwar period who would like to see a case study of one aspect of the
    occupation, and to historians of German music and culture who want to
    gain a greater understanding of the administrative and political aspects
    of culture.

    Toby Thacker's final, albeit throwaway, sentence reads, "The ten years
    after Hitler's death and the end of the 'Third Reich' are probably the
    last time when music really mattered in Germany" (p. 242). This
    conclusion may be too harsh. His fine book shows the importance of music
    in building the postwar Germany that eventually emerged. Music's
    influence, therefore, is still resonant.

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  5. Por se acaso, o carallófono.

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  6. A voz humana é o instrumento musical por antonomaxia. Todos os demáis evocan e son tanto maís expresivos canto maís se parezan a ese instrumento fundamental. O rango musical de frecuencias coincide máis ou menos coa tesitura da voz humana, bastante máis estreito que espectro audible total. Os efectos que fan expresiva a interpretación sexan clásicos (trémolos, vibratos,ligados...) ou modernos (pedales "wah-wah",reverbs...) son intentos máis ou menos afortunados de simular a voz. A frecuencia e duración dos silencios na composición deben evocar ás necesarias pausas pra respirar cando cantamos,independentemente das posibilidades técnicas do instrumento. O aprendizaxe e a "interiorización" eficaz da música empeza polo canto. Desgraciadamente, non está prestixiado socialmente todo o que debera. Cantar é do mellor pra saúde, tanto por motivos fisiolóxicos como psicolóxicos.

    Agora espero,atento, as correciós de Xabimusic.:)

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  7. Tello e Garcés, Garcés e Tello: tanto monta. Dylan non ven á Coruña porque toca de espaldas impresiona, mesmo o titular

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  8. Sr. Marcos: eu, polo menos, non lle atopo ningún truco. Iso si, unha moi boa "posta en escea". Pero os sons vocais e bucais son todos naturais. Se seguimos coa "nosa experiencia coral" poderemos comprobalo.

    Por cero, a min non me abre a ligazón.

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  9. Amigo XDC. ¡Practicamente nada que engadir ó seu comentario!

    A min, persoalmente, non me cabe dúbida da importancia do papel da voz tanto na música como, en xeral, na comunicación humana.

    Evidentemente, os instrumentos intentaron chegar aló onde a voz non chegaba pero nunca superaron as posibilidade expresivas do primeiro instrumento.

    Ás veces me pregunto por que este abandono da voz tanto nas institucións educativas como nas musicais.Non chego a entendelo.

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  10. Sr. Apicultor. Vou actuar de galego xenuino: ¿Por que cre vostede que a min me pode interesar un libro sobre a "política musical dos aliados" no post-nacismo?

    A verdade é que os meus intereses van por outros vieiros, pero, ó mellor, é que non entendín ben o texto. Agardo as súas aclaracións e reflexións ( en galego, porfa). Grazas anticipadas.

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  11. Home, a min pareceume que se cadra lle podía interesar, por iso llo puxen. Vin a reseña e ocurríuseme pensar en vostede, así, sen máis. Pero se non lle interesa non pasará nada, digo eu.

    Coido lembrar que unha vez falou dos seus alumnos de historia e daquela pensei -erradamente, polo visto- que un libro que falase da historia da música lle podería ter algún interese. Pero desculpe por tomarme a liberdade, non volverá acontecer.

    Reciba un saúdo.

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  12. Non ten que desculparse, apicultor. Xa sabemos que ás veces este sistema de comunicación que son os blogs xogan malas pasadas propiciando a in-comunicación. Pero non pasa nada, asegúrollo.

    Si que me interesa a historia da música ainda que non son profesor de historia. O que pasa é que non me defendo ben co inglés a ó mellor, non captei ben o sentido do seu texto. ¿A voste chamoulle algo a atencíon en especial?

    Desde logo pode ter interese analizar o uso político da música.

    ¿Podese falar hoxe en día dunha política musical? Eu creo que si e vou poñer un caso: os decretos que regulan a educación musical. Outro: a existencia dun Instituto Público das Artes escenicas. Outro: as políticas municipais relativas ás agrupoacións musicais.

    Parece dificil pois sustraerse á influencia da política incluso na vida artística que parece unha dimensión netamente persoal e íntima.

    Xabimusic

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  13. O autor do comentario non son eu, naturalmente. Está ben claro que é dun tal Richard Bodek, a quen non teño o pracer de coñecer.

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  14. É moi curioso o xeito de conseguir moitos dos sons dos anuncios e das esceas do cine,como no enlace de Xabimusic. Nas películas de ciencia-ficción hai que lle poñer son a fenómenos extra-naturáis. Non poden ser recoñecibles polo espectador. Se a sensación a transmitir é desagradable, cóllese un son desagradable (un peido, un eructo,son de cañerías...) e altérase (reprodúcese ao revés ou a diferente velocidade). O subconscente "capta" o carácter desagradable do son. O mesmo se ten que ser agradable.
    Un exemplo:a autorreconstrucción de "Terminator" leva o son da lingua dun can lambendo nun comedeiro,reproducido ao revés.

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