Author Archives: Cleo Tracey

On April 8th, I had the pleasure of attending another one of UBC School of Music’s Composers Concerts at the Roy Barnett Recital Hall. Having attended a concert from this series a few weeks back, I had an idea of what to expect. While I noticed a few familiar names on the program from the previous composers concert I attended on March 18th, I also saw a completely new variety of performances.

The program included the Thunderbird Brass Quintet, comprised of trumpets, horn, trombone, and tuba; a guitar quartet, a soprano duet, piano, violin duet, and more. Needless to say, the program included a wide array of instruments and ensembles.

One of my favourite pieces was performed by an alto vocalist, Roan Shankaruk, accompanied by Morten Yu on piano. The piece, titled Five Nocturnes (2019), was composed by Morton themselves and featured two parts: I.: The April Flower May Wither and V.: Bosom. Upon reading the title I was immediately reminded of Chopin’s Nocturnes that we studied in MUSC 326A, and the way they depict the image of ‘nighttime.’ I thought it was beautiful how different Nocturnes could depict different variations of the ‘night’ through tonality, rhythm, form, and other measures. I thought back to the nocturnes we studied in class and truly appreciated the careful and meticulous work that I imagine goes into composing pieces like this. Moreover, to see Morten Yu play the piece that they composed themselves was very enthralling. When studying many of the composers covered in MUSC326A, we often read about them performing their own pieces, but unfortunately this is an aspect of history we are never able to experience ourselves; we are only able to hear performances played by other (although talented nevertheless) musicians. With that in mind, I think it is truly fascinating to be able to witness a composer play their own work.

Another piece I enjoyed was 2 Songs (2019) composed by Ivan Salazar Gonzalez, including pieces I.: Suenos, Amor y Pan (Dreams Love and Bread) and II.: De Esta Piedra (From This Stone). It was performed by Roan Shankaruk, soprano, and Peter Krejar, piano.

The lyrics from Dream, Love and Bread (translated from Spanish) read:

The sun will return to your throat, to your forehead, to your chest before nightfall.

And how human will be the dream, love and bread.

There is no rush or demand, men do not finish/run out.

Today you are here and tomorrow here another like you will remain waiting

There is no rush or demand, men do not finish/run out.

I enjoyed the recurring theme of ‘night’ that was woven throughout the various performances. I later looked up the piece and found that the song was adapted by Gonzalez, with the lyrics originally written by poet Miguel Angel Asturias. I found that this musical reimagining of written poem was a common style of composition performed at UBC Composers Concerts. I think it is a beautiful way to create an additional layer of meaning to an existing work, as well as to merge various mediums of art together.

David Fincher’s 2010 film The Social Network is notorious for many aspects. Since its release almost a decade ago, Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg continue to remain scrutinized by the public eye. With that said, one unexpected aspect of the film that has been widely acclaimed is its trailer, with many calling it the ‘one of the greatest movie trailers ever made,’ largely due to its use of music. The trailer ingeniously features a choral cover of Radiohead’s 1993 track, Creep. I will discuss two key aspects of the music which contribute to the trailer’s success. Firstly, its use of a choral cover accompanied by piano evokes a ghostly, chilling effect that has accumulated wide speculation. Moreover, the clever mapping of Creep‘s lyricism to the messages behind the film accentuate the intrigue behind the Social Network.

The trailer is set to a piano and choral rendition of Radiohead’s Creep, covered by Belgian girls choir, Scala & Kolancy Brothers. The chorus sings monophonically, accompanied by a softly playing piano, as the trailer flips through images from various unnamed people’s Facebook profiles. The photos are not unlike any we would normally see on our own Facebook timelines – yet the monophonic unison of voices in the background evoke an eerie effect, perhaps as if some unidentified force is watching from behind. There is also something to be said about the conscious decision to cover Radiohead’s song in a manner that scales it back, from a rock song to a much more primitive style – reminiscent to the plainchants that we listened to earlier in the first half of the term in MUSC 326A. Visually, the trailer depicts an incredibly modern, advanced piece of technology – and the juxtaposition of this visual element with a more archaic aural background further evokes an unsettling feeling in the viewer. Moreover, the chorus seems to embody the invisible audience that is ceaselessly present in a real social network.

Another key feature of the background music in The Social Network‘s trailer is its lyricism. Although the lyrics clearly were not written for the film, the trailer expertly matches the lyrics with visual elements of the trailer that truly capture the ‘creepiness’ of social media. For example, we see a close up on a computer screen, on Facebook, as a mouse clicks the ‘Add as Friend’ button while the chorus sings the lines:

I wanna have control

We also see images of a man smiling, flexing his muscles, as well as a photo of a woman at the beach in a bathing suit – similar to those we might often see on our own social media channels today. As we see the images, the chorus sings:

I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul

… which seems to nod to the hyper-fixation on perfection, particularly with body image, that many strive for on social media.

As the trailer progresses, we see clips from the actual film depicting Mark Zuckerberg and other characters. As plot events in the trailer intensify, the chorus breaks into homophonic chant – which heightens the emotion expressed visually in the trailer. Both visually and aurally, the experience intensifies – truly capturing the chaos in the plot-line.

In essence, The Social Network‘s trailer is truly captivating whether you’ve seen the film or not – and its ingenious use of music is equally, if not more significant, than its visual counterpart.

On March 10, I had the pleasure of attending UBC’s Opera Tea Series at the Old Auditorium. My prior exposure to opera, outside of this MUSC 326A class, was from seeing a few performances with my parents as a child. I recall struggling to sit still through the long productions, being the antsy child I was. Perhaps biased by these childhood memories, I went to this Opera Tea Series expecting to have a similar experience. However, I was proven quite wrong.

I walked into the auditorium, was greeted by members of the UBC Opera Ensemble clad in tuxedos and extravagant dresses, and took a seat a few rows from the stage. The first performance was an aria called Or sai chi l’onore, from Don Giovanni by Mozart. It was a lovely introductory piece, and I was surprised when the next performance was swiftly introduced just a few minutes later. I soon realized that this entire event would be comprised of many short performances, by a variety of performers. This differed from the long narrative driven productions that I remembered watching as a child.

I was thrilled when I read that Habanera from Bizet’s Carmen was on the program. Growing up, it was one of my favourite pieces to play on the violin. I’ve always adored its provocative and playful melody, and I was excited to see it as a live opera for the first time. I was surprised to see the entire UBC Opera Ensemble join the stage for the piece, forming a scene around Carmen (played by Jillian Clow). The piece began with a short musical introduction on the piano, followed by Carmen singing her aria coyly as she swayed across the stage. I was captivated to see this union of song and stage production, with the singers fully dressed in costume and acting as well. While I had always loved Habanera, I discovered a new perspective to the piece by experiencing this visual element in combination with the song. It made me gain a newfound appreciation for opera productions and the way they bridge various mediums of performance into one.

I was delighted to see that the Opera Tea Series showcased a wide variety of opera performances – with singers of all tones and performance groups of varying sizes. For example, there was a piece called Old Man River from Showboat by Jerome Kern, sung by a quartet entirely of tenors, intermixed with other performances of arias sung in soprano. The diversity in performances allowed me to appreciate each style of singing for its own unique qualities.

Asides from Habanera, another performance I enjoyed was a piece called Battle of the Dolls from Les contes d’Hoffmann by J. Offenbach. It was a whimsical piece which featured two female soprano singers, who played the part of two dolls clumsily competing with each other. Their songs and movements were frantic and childlike. Every now and then the dolls would slowly crumple and wilt – at which point, two men would come frantically running on stage and wind the dolls up to bring them back to life. It was a very foolish yet entertaining piece, and it contrasted interestingly with the arias and more ‘serious’ pieces that preceded it.

Overall, I enjoyed this Opera Tea Series event and it instilled in me a new affinity towards opera performances. I can gladly say that it has changed the perception of opera that I grew up with!

Last night, I had a chance to see the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra play Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, known as the “Chorale”, at the Orpheum Theatre. I’ve always enjoyed orchestra performances, but I was particularly excited for this symphony, given the new contexts surrounding classical music that I’ve learned through MUSC 326. Moreover, Beethoven’s 9th Symphony itself is intriguing on many levels: it was Beethoven’s last symphony, composed when he had already gone deaf. It’s said that when he performed the symphony at the Kärnnertor Theater in Vienna in 1824, Beethoven couldn’t hear the thunderous applause from the audience when the performance had finished, until the mezzo-soprano soloist tapped his shoulder so he could turn around and see the audience’s reaction.

Beethoven’s 9th is also compositionally unique: its arrangement requires a substantially large orchestra, and it features chorus and vocal soloists in its final movement. This was was immediately visible by the sheer number of performers on the stage. There was a full orchestra, vocalists, as well as a full chorus featuring UBC Choirs. Although I was sitting far back in the balcony, I could feel the energy of the huge ensemble of performers. I was also enchanted by the sheer setting of the concert; the beautiful architecture of the Orpheum and full audience seemed to heighten my anticipation for the performance.

The performance opened with a short piece called ‘The Unanswered Question’ by American composer Charles Ives. As the conductor explained, the piece poses existential questions: What is the meaning of existence? A core group of strings played a slow, quiet, underlying tone throughout the piece. Unexpectedly, a solo trumpet began to play from somewhere off stage – eventually I would scan towards the left side of the audience and see that there was solo trumpet positioned to the left of the theatre – posing the “The Perennial Question of Existence.” As the quiet strings continued to play ceaselessly, another off-stage melody emerged, this time from the right side of the theatre. It was a quartet of woodwinds, with its own composer, playing the “Fighting Answerers” – supposedly a response to the trumpet’s ‘question of existence.’ It was a unique piece that made interesting use of the stage, and it was an intriguing way to open Beethoven’s symphony.

Beethoven’s symphony begins with its first movement, Allegro ma non troppo, which is in sonata form. Opening in an eerie D minor key, the strings play a melody that sounds as if the orchestra “tuning up”. Immediately one feels a sense of suspense, and anticipation for what is to come. Being in sonata form, the first movement introduces the main theme, which undergoes a modulation and development phase, and and then repeats it several times throughout the movement.

The second movement, called Molto vivace, is formally called a scherzo. The scherzo, as we have learned in MUSC 326, is an innovative musical device created by Beethoven to replace the Minuet as a movement, which is much more moderate and delicate. The scherzo is frantic and energetic, driven by a feeling of angst and tension. The timpani shines through in this movement, its booming sound reverberating amongst the frenzied strings – and is even heard in its own solo sequences at times.

The third movement, Adagio molta e cantabile – is much more relaxed and calm compared to its preceding movements. The strings and woodwinds play sweetly, in stark contrast to the chaos heard in movements I and II. I recall from studying music theory growing up, that cantabile is an Italian term that translates to playing in a ‘singing style’ – and this movement captures that feeling perfectly.

The fourth and final movement, Presto assai – ‘Ode to Joy’ is probably the the most notorious movement of the symphony, where the chorus and vocals join the orchestra for a final, unified, and glorious ending. When all of the performers on stage came together to sing the joyous chorus, I could feel exactly why Beethoven’s 9th symphony is often referred to as the ‘universal anthem for hope, joy, friendship, and optimism for the future.’ It was a beautiful amalgamation of instrumentation, vocals, and poetry, and one can easily see why Beethoven’s work has withstood time and carved its own place in classical music history.

On March 18, I attended a concert from UBC Music’s Wednesday Noon Hours Series; titled UBC Composers’ Concerts. It was interesting to be able to attend a concert on campus in such a casual setting, by dropping into Roy Barnett Recital Hall during a block of time in my day that I probably would have otherwise spent standing in line at the Delly.

The first performance, titled 29th Avenue Station composed by Eugene Shen, was a solo Baritone Saxophone piece performed by Jackson Bell. The second piece was a flute solo titled Second Beach, also composed by Eugene Shen and played by Shilpa Sharma. Both Second Beach and 29th Avenue Station were interesting monophonic pieces that truly showcased the individual talent of the performers. Asides from the musical performances themselves, I particularly enjoyed the titles of the pieces, as they both refer to locations in Vancouver that I am familiar with. As I listened to the compositions, I associated the aural experience with imagery of these locations. As Jackson Bell performed 29th Avenue Station on the saxophone, I pictured the solemn and vacant East Vancouver Skytrain station in the calm of the night. As Shilpa Sharma performed Second Beach, I envisioned the subtle, lapping waves on the shore of Second Beach as the high pitched melody of the flute gently played.

It is rare to come across musical pieces that refer specifically to Vancouver, and I feel an inexplicable connection with these pieces when I do. In contrast, most classical music that I have listened to or played originates from Europe, written centuries ago. As a result, I realize that I have always listened to and admired classical music from a distance; a degree of separation; as it comes from a time long before mine, and from a continent I’ve yet to set foot on. Contrarily, as someone who has grown up in Vancouver, pieces like 29th Avenue Station and Second Beach evoke a feeling of closeness; of home.

Another piece from the UBC Composers’ Concerts that I enjoyed was Chance Encounter, originally a poem written by poet Xu Zhimo. Soprano singer Tze Liew adapted this poem to a musical performance, accompanied by harpist Nathania Ko. In Chance Encounter, Xu Zhimo speaks of her life crossing with another’s:

We cross paths on the midnight sea

You on your way

I on mine

The melody of the harp intertwined beautifully with the words of the poem. I believe that the poem’s adaptation into a polytonic musical piece added an additional layer of emotive meaning to the text. I believe that listening to the poem as an adapted musical evoked a heightened feeling of distance and solitude, one which goes beyond what could be achieved by listening to the poem alone merely as a monotonic text.

Admittedly, when I first entered the concert, I didn’t initially realize that the pieces were composed by UBC students. However, there was a sense of locality and familiarity that came with the realization that the musical pieces I was listening to were written by students who also attended UBC. It left me to ponder whether these composers drew inspiration from places and people that I had also encountered myself, and I envisioned these images as I listened to the musical compositions.