You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Music’ category.
How could one NOT feature this piece?
My apologies for the mix-up. “Take Five” is a jazz standard composed by Paul Desmond, recorded by the Dave Brubeck Quartet for their 1959 album *Time Out*. Its unorthodox 5/4 time signature, driven by Joe Morello’s innovative drumming, defies the standard 4/4 jazz rhythm, creating a hypnotic, swinging groove. Written in E♭ minor with a ternary ABA form, it features a catchy two-chord piano/bass vamp (E♭m–B♭m7) and Desmond’s cool, dry-martini saxophone melodies. Inspired by Brubeck’s 1958 Eurasian tour and Morello’s request for a 5/4 piece, Desmond’s two melodies were arranged by Brubeck after a grueling June 1959 session where the band struggled with the rhythm, finally nailing it in two takes on July 1. Initially a promotional single, it became a sleeper hit in 1961, reaching No. 25 on the Billboard Hot 100 and selling over a million copies—the first jazz single to do so. Its enduring appeal lies in its accessible yet adventurous structure, influencing countless 5/4 compositions and earning a 1996 Grammy Hall of Fame induction. Desmond’s royalties, post-1977, benefit the American Red Cross, averaging over $100,000 annually.[](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Take_Five)%5B%5D(https://www.npr.org/2000/11/19/1114201/take-five)%5B%5D(https://sing.fandom.com/wiki/Take_Five)
Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony, in F major, Op. 93, premiered in 1814: a compact, spirited work that defies the grandiose expectations set by its siblings. It’s Beethoven at his most playful yet incisive, wielding humor and economy like a scalpel.
The first movement, Allegro vivace e con brio, bursts with buoyant energy—think a galloping horse barely reined in. Its main theme, a jaunty F major motif, dances through syncopated rhythms and sudden dynamic shifts, exuding a zest that feels almost defiant of the era’s turmoil. The development section toys with fragments of the theme, tossing them across the orchestra with impish glee.
The second movement, Allegretto scherzando, is a witty nod to the metronome’s inventor, Maelzel. It’s a clockwork delight: a staccato woodwind figure ticks relentlessly, while strings weave a delicate, almost mocking melody. The brevity—under four minutes—belies its charm, a musical chuckle.
The third, a Tempo di Menuetto, isn’t the dainty minuet of old but a robust, stomping dance. Its trio, with horns blaring, feels like a rustic celebration, yet Beethoven’s harmonic twists keep it from mere nostalgia.
The finale, Allegro vivace, is a whirlwind. Its perpetuum mobile energy, driven by a scampering theme, careens through unexpected key changes—F to D-flat, a harmonic left hook. The coda, sprawling and exuberant, piles on surprises, as if Beethoven’s laughing at symphonic convention.
Clocking in at about 25 minutes, the Eighth is Beethoven’s shortest symphony, yet its wit and invention rival his heftier works. It’s a masterclass in saying more with less, a joyful rebellion against pomposity.
In Bioshock Infinite (2013), the hymn Will the Circle Be Unbroken serves as a haunting, thematic anchor, deeply woven into the game’s narrative and atmosphere. Composed in 1907 by Ada R. Habershon and Charles H. Gabriel, the version in the game is a reimagined, melancholic rendition performed by Elizabeth, the central female character, with vocals by Courtnee Draper and arranged by Troy Baker. It appears in key moments, notably during the game’s opening in Columbia, a floating city steeped in religious zealotry, and in quieter, introspective scenes tied to Elizabeth’s journey.
The hymn’s lyrics, reflecting on loss, salvation, and eternal reunion, resonate with the game’s exploration of redemption, parallel universes, and cyclical time. Its inclusion underscores the pseudo-Christian ideology of Columbia’s prophet, Zachary Hale Comstock, while contrasting the city’s utopian facade with its dystopian reality. The stripped-down, a cappella delivery amplifies Elizabeth’s emotional vulnerability, making it a poignant motif for her struggle and the game’s themes of choice and inevitability.
There are loved ones in the glory,
Whose dear forms you often miss;
When you close your earthly story,
Will you join them in their bliss?
Chorus:
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, by and by?
Is a better home awaiting
In the sky, in the sky?
In the joyous days of childhood,
Oft they told of wondrous love,
Pointed to the dying Saviour;
Now they dwell with Him above.
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, by and by?
Is a better home awaiting
In the sky, in the sky?
You remember songs of heaven
Which you sang with childish voice,
Do you love the hymns they taught you,
Or are songs of earth your choice?
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, by and by?
Is a better home awaiting
In the sky, in the sky?
You can picture happy gath’rings
‘Round the fireside long ago,
And you think of tearful partings,
When they left you here below.
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, by and by?
Is a better home awaiting
In the sky, in the sky?
One by one their seats were emptied,
And one by one they went away;
Now the family is parted,
Will it be complete one day?
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, by and by?
Is a better home awaiting
In the sky, in the sky?
Frank Ticheli’s *Earth Song* is a poignant a cappella choral work, born from a personal yearning for peace amid the disillusionment of the Iraq War. Composed for SATB chorus, it features Ticheli’s own text—a rare departure from his usual practice of setting existing poetry. The piece, rooted in his earlier wind ensemble work *Sanctuary*, weaves sweeping melodic lines with vivid dynamic contrasts, embodying a prayer for healing through music. Its text, beginning with “Sing, Be, Live, See,” laments war’s devastation while celebrating music as a refuge and a beacon of hope. A tonal analogue of emotional life, *Earth Song* resonates as an anthem for peace, its simplicity and vulnerability striking a universal chord.




Your opinions…