The Hatter's tasks, due in four years, are to write the remaining 6 of 7 songs for Stuff & Nonsense (the last of which has 6 separate movements), the remaining 2 of 3 Bookends, and Wasp. Meanwhile, it has also occurred to me to add voices to the chorus of Looking-Glass, re-score Walrus as a duet or quartet and include more movement (requested by the Cheshire), and maybe rewrite Father William.
William has temporarily proven a dead end. Long story short, a book on William Byrd was eventually deemed "lost in the mail." By the time I got my hands on a copy, I was no longer in the mood to read something drier than a caucus race. You can track that adventure here, where I take notes on much of Fux's Gradus ad Parnassum instead.
But four months ago, I really did complete the simplest of my assignments, which was to rescore the chorus of Looking-Glass. I didn't bother announcing it because the task was so simple, but this week, I have turned my attention towards the second song of Stuff & Nonsense. And before I show you that, I needed to get us all resettled and up to date.
(15 Oct 2024)----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SONG II
What to say about The Duchess' Lullaby.
Well, I purposely avoided it in Outgrabe, because the beating of babies is something I leave in disgust to the conservative Christians, and the idea of expressing such a thing - even a mockery of it - is not within my interests. Outgrabe contained all the big hitters, and now it's up to Stuff & Nonsense to pick up the leftovers and broken dishes.
The Duchess' Lullaby is not a long or interesting poem.
“Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes:
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases.”
CHORUS (In which the cook and the baby joined):
“Wow! wow! wow!”
“I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!”
CHORUSImmediately, what got my attention was the "Wow! wow! wow!" Have you ever seen such a thing? the lowercase letters! the exclamation points! the set of three!
“Wow! wow! wow!”
It's a lullaby, and the sound world I ushered us into is dreamy and trancelike, with falling cherry blossom petals, distant memories, and the rustlings of little things on the ground. I borrowed the idea of blurry pedaling from the impressionists and laid heavily into the black notes of B major, which pull towards a G♭ pentatonic sound. All of the words that aren't "wow" sort of breeze by mindlessly for the vocalist, cycling through the B major pentascale. The simplicity of such a decision will probably come in handy when it's eventually combined with "Hush-a-by Lady" in Stuff & Nonsense VII. As my research showed last year, I really do have to be thinking in nursery rhymes at this stage.
Anyway, as the verses cycle through the pentascale, the accompaniment rumbles around in a bit of a different dimension, nearly forgetting about B major altogether. At first, it's just a descending chromatic planing of fully diminished 7ths; a small rumbling, if you will.
In the second verse, the texture becomes wispy and confusing, not virtuosic or angry like it looks on the page. The accents are simply meant to bring notes out of the texture, not to encourage loudness or force. The harmonies shift to a descending chromatic planing of the mM7 chord, which has "more pepper" than the fully diminished 7th sound, but there's an exception with the last of these. At this point, our ear is hoping for a dominant (F♯7) before the final chorus. And while I didn't want to give it to us, I also wasn't so cruel as to replace it with an f♯mM7. So I compromised with something like an F♯M7, where the 5th of the chord was altered to the 6th, giving more of a d♯ (diatonic) feeling, before finally allowing it to settle into the expected dominant, as it grumbles about in a fairly muddy register of the piano.
And it's nothing but cherry blossom petals from there - so convincing, you nearly have to question your own memory. The vocals reach a forte at the very end of the song, which is a terrible place to plan a climax, and I do so love breaking rules.
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(25 Feb 2025)----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SONG III
The Lobster Quadrille.
A quadrille is a European square dance from the 18th & 19th centuries, and the term originated from the square formations made by four men on horses in 17th century military parades. In the early 19th century, it became popular in English high society, and evolved to include waltzes.
The dance was originally written in 5 parts, built on 8-measure themes. The Viennese lengthened it to 6 parts, with a new movement placed between "La Poule" and "La Pastourelle."
Never have I had so many instructions to follow. I myself required this piece to be in D major, and now I'm faced with the form, the time signatures, the lyrics, the trousers and the hen, etc. To make matters even worse, the reason this was never composed for Outgrabe in the first place was the "slowly and sadly" line, which was Carroll being cheeky.
So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their fore-paws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:
“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail,
“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”
To recap, this must be written mostly in 2/4, but waltzes are acceptable, and it could be 31 eight-bar phrases, but it ought to be slow and sad. Pants. Something's got to give; stay tuned.
(25 Feb 2025)I've not worried about La Pantalon for four solid months. But I go to visit the Cheshire this weekend, so Alice is back on the mind. Imagine my delight when I found this - a model of a quadrille. Bless them.
Commonwealth Vintage Dancers
The s.o.b.'s didn't credit the composer or musicians, but I'll take what I can get, and what I got is:
The big takeaway here is that if I plan for about a second per measure, I really can do several movements in just a few minutes; this set was about 3 minutes and 38 seconds. As for "slowly and sadly," I think it only reasonable to assume that the Mock Turtle would perform this differently than the Cheshire Cat! We wouldn't expect the Queen of Hearts and the Duchess to perform the same song the same way, now would we? (I personally wouldn't even expect them to perform the same song in the same key, or with the same harmonies). Even definitions are not sacred in Wonderland: Humpty's definitions of Jabberwocky words contradict Carroll's! For example, Carroll defines gyre as to scratch like a dog, derived from "gyaour or giaour," a dog. Humpty, on the other hand, defines gyre as to go round and round like a gyroscope. Carroll also defines rath as a species of land turtle, whereas Humpty believes a rath to be a type of green pig.
A second takeaway is that eight bars (8 seconds) goes by so quickly that entire phrases can be thought of as intros. That's helpful.
I downloaded a handful of quadrilles by Johann Strauss (1825-1876) to find that generally speaking, his tonal plans do not exceed five steps around the circle of fifths; in other words, the span of B♭ through A is okay, or E♭ through D, but not E♭ through A. Furthermore, adjacent movements are usually restricted to three steps. At first glance, the Nikolai Quadrille appears to break the adjacent rule with La Poule in B♭ Major and La Trénis in A major, but the first section of La Trénis is in A minor, which softens the blow.
Whether this is a rule for me to break or a rule to follow remains to be seen, but considering the fact that I'm already so boxed in with the form (that's a pretty good joke you might have overlooked - being boxed in by a quadrille, which is a square), and considering that this piece is from Stuff & Nonsense, which favors sharps, I'm inclined to follow the rule. Another thing to notice is that a minority of Strauss quadrilles uses the same key for the opening and closing movements.
But none of that was the point. Throughout that research, I kept seeing some version of this, because it was extremely popular.
First published in 1817, associated with dancing master John Duval, and sometimes attributed to composer Paolo Spagnoletti, this must be my new model.
The Lobster Quadrille!! The Lancer's Quadrille!! Excitedly, I ran to Martin Gardner (1914-2010) to tell him I had finally discovered something he had not, but he just sat there in his armchair calmly - smugly, even - pointing to the footnote in The Annotated Alice that had told me about "The Lancer's Quadrille" all along.
I can't tell you the tonal plan because it was passed down by ear and sources vary wildly, but I think the claim, "The only correct edition published" is very funny.
F, D, D, A, C in this one
Anyway, the new model shortens our quadrille from 232 measures (31*8 + 4 bars of intro) to 152 (19*8 flat). As usual, the plan seems to have worked itself out with scarcely a hint of my own involvement. Symmetry for days. Oh, look! It even came with a tonal plan.
Tonal Plan: D A A D
Keys go back and forth like drawers.
A -piano-
B “Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail,
"There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
C See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?
A -piano-
II. Les Lignes 2/4
A -piano-
B “Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail,
"There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
C See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?
A -piano-
II. Les Lignes 2/4
Tonal Plan: G A B C
Keys move in a line
This means the second A is in the wrong key! How cheeky!
A -piano-
B Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
C Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
A -piano-
III. Les Moulinets 6/8
B Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
C Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
A -piano-
III. Les Moulinets 6/8
Tonal Plan: C D♯m C
Keys go all the way around the windmill.
A “You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
B But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
A “You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
B But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
A “You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
IV. Les Visites 6/8
Tonal Plan: A B E A
Going out for a visit and coming back.
A -piano-
B Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
A -piano-
B Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
C Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
C Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
A -piano-
V. Les Lanciers 4/4!!!, pickup
A -piano-
V. Les Lanciers 4/4!!!, pickup
Tonal Plan: D D Bm D
Reestablishing key (rather predictably) with the relative minor.
A -piano-
A “What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
A “What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
B Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?”
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”
A -piano-
This post might have been very confusing. If so, here's the CliffsNotes version:
I didn't know what a quadrille was, so I looked it up. It was a popular (and since somewhat forgotten) suite of sorts with lots of "square phrasing" - 31 of 'em, as a matter of fact. I discovered that there was a particular quadrille that was famous during Alice's time, and that particular quadrille was called "The Lancer's Quadrille," which sounds an awful lot like "The Lobster Quadrille."
The two pressing questions were: should this song be fast or slow, and can I do all of these movements with only three verses of text? The answers were: fast, and yes. The End.
Before you go - if you find yourself seated in the section of the Venn diagram that indicates you are both interested in "quadrilles" and "combinatorics," you really need to be made aware of "The Quadrille Melodist," which is a combinatorial quadrille generator published by John Clinton in 1865. It contained not one fewer than 462 cards.
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And you thought I was pulling your leg.
(02 Jul 2025)This past week, The Lobster Quadrille - a rollicking drinking/dancing song, which I have lovingly described as "perpetually idiotic," has come into being. A few words.
La Dorset/Les Tiroirs - I called my dad's brilliant and very French friend, Didier Vergamini, to ask him more about these terms. He explained that "dorset" is masculine, and "la" is feminine, so "La Dorset" makes no sense. Upon further investigation, we found that Dorset is also a county in southwest England, and while "La Dorset" wouldn't refer to that county, it could refer colloquially to a person from that county, such as a Duchess of Dorset (Elizabeth Colyear Sackville lived from 1689 to 1768, and Arabella Cope Sackville Whitworth from 1769-1829). All of this is of no use for composing, but luckily, the first movement of "The Lancer's Quadrille" is sometimes called, "Les Tiroirs," which translates to "drawers," as in cabinet drawers. All of that directed the tonal plan, as previously outlined.
When I decided to use the A section as an intro and have the voice enter at B, I thought it would be funny to begin the vocal line on a common chord between the keys of D and A, instead of starting neatly in A major. There was no real reason this had to happen, other than the fact that I must have been searching for rules to break. Just because I'm being fairly square doesn't mean I won't be wonky; slap my ass and call me a rhombus!
The harmonies are simple throughout the entire song, as I'm establishing keys rather quickly and most often modulating from section to section. But I would hate to bore my vocalist. To make up for it, the vocal line travels over an octave in its very short (about 4 seconds) opening phrase, and making matters more perilous, the piano texture opens up to shine a spotlight on what appears to be fairly rapid chromaticism. The Mad Hatter never makes promises to be nice.
Les Lignes - what a silly little march! It ends sounding less final than an imperfect cadence but more than a half cadence, with the melody on the sixth scale degree. The B and C sections are related to one another with the sixteenth figure in the accompaniment, which switches hands. And then there are some antics leading to the return of A in the wrong key. As previously discussed, the tonal plan moves in a line: G-A-B-C.
Straight into Les Moulinets we go, where we find little windmills whirring away in both parts. The tonal plan of this goes all the way around the circle of fifths, so the B section is at the bottom of the circle in D♯m. In fact, it is this concept that pushed my plan into spanning a greater area of the circle of fifths than Strauss had. Wallowing in this D♯m, the vocal line takes itself most seriously (for a snail is declining the dance) with lyrical expression against a playfully spooky accompaniment. The return of A has gone all the way 'round the circle, so naturally, it's an octave higher.
Next we find ourselves in Les Visites, which was meant to sound like a sibling to the opening of Les Tiroirs. I can't specify too much of a reason for this, but there have been many little ideas in such a short span, and I wanted some feeling of unity before losing my head again. And lose my head, I do! The B section nonchalantly slips a couple MM chords by, just to make you go, "wait, what?" and then we're off into the C section, which is pretty overwhelming with its constant motion in the vocal, right hand, and left hand parts. It's a bit of a mess (the height of the visitation, you know) before we're back to the A section for a jaunty journey back home. I had ended the first section on an F♯ chord to prepare us for B major, but this last section ought to have ended in A major. And I could have done that, but unfortunately, I love cringe comedy. The longest pause between movements is here.
Les Lanciers, our grand finale! Have you heard the saying, "storm in a teacup?" Well, there's not much to say here, except that I tried to make a little military in a teacup. In fact, I asked myself, "what does a military in a teacup sound like?" and then I wrote down what was in my head, but without the little cymbal crashes.
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SONG IV
They told me you had been to her,And mentioned me to him:She gave me a good character,But said I could not swim.
He sent them word I had not gone(We know it to be true):If she should push the matter on,What would become of you?
I gave her one, they gave him two,You gave us three or more;They all returned from him to you,Though they were mine before.
If I or she should chance to beInvolved in this affair,He trusts to you to set them free,Exactly as we were.
My notion was that you had been(Before she had this fit)An obstacle that came betweenHim, and ourselves, and it.
Don’t let him know she liked them best,For this must ever beA secret, kept from all the rest,Between yourself and me.
Let's take a moment to talk about dorian. On the 24th of June 2024, I argued in favor of dorian:
You see, the most musically striking mode from Outgrabe was our Mock Turtle's lydian, and what's the opposite of lydian? Mixolydian, of course! Right? I decided not!Mixolydian is just a major sound with a minor v chord, so the entire personality is wrapped up in a cadence, whereas lydian encompasses an altered pentascale, so it's a melodic shift. They're not pure opposites. I would argue, in this moment anyway, that dorian makes a better foe! Lydian is major, dorian is minor. Lydian has the sharp 4 and dorian has the flat 7. But wait, there's more! Dorian has that sharp 6, that raising-of-the-brow sharp 6 right under that flat 7. Perhaps not as glistening as a sharp 4, but then again, "The White Rabbit's Evidence" was never meant to be so glisteny. It was never waiting in the hot tureen!
And I quite agree with myself. However, it was only once the pen was in my hand a year later, that I truly realized what a fortunate situation I had fallen down the rabbit hole into. Incredibly, Dorian is a symmetrical scale. In terms of whole steps and half steps, it reads:
WHWWWHW
A palindrome! Backwards, which means descending, it reads precisely the same.
With the restriction of 8 notes to the octave, we can create two more symmetric scales, and they are:
WWHWHWW - for example, C D E F G A♭ B♭ C
HWWWWWH - for example, B C D E F♯ G♯ A♯ B
Because those flats and sharps don't follow the order of the flats and sharps in the circle of fifths, we can tell right away that they're not church modes, but new scales altogether. The first is a natural minor scale with a raised third, and the second is a whole tone scale with an added tone. Perhaps I'll play around with them some time in the future.
So how was I to celebrate the symmetry of this? Why, by inverting my melodies and turning them upside-down, of course! (I find that in composing, I can be exceptionally uncreative, and then claim all the credit of somebody doing harder work.)
Before writing, I knew I wanted this to sound intensely modal, so ventures away from dorian were highly discouraged. I also wanted to emphasize 2nds and 4ths just as much as 3rds and 5ths, as the Quadrille had supplied us with nearly enough triads to last a lifetime.
My opening left hand motive became an independent drone, painting a constant dorian backdrop with the ebbing of the raised 6th. The right hand melody of the introduction not only accomplished the harmonic 2nds/9ths I was after, but also reinforced dorian with the raised 6th and lowered 7th. The second measure had important jobs, too. For one, it added a dotted rhythm and ended the first phrase, defining the entire song as more folksy than its friends. But the first two measures also accomplished something else - if this mode had contained a d♯, we would be in B mixolydian, and we all remember that I first chose dorian over mixolydian with conviction and purpose. So a third voice came into being, living between the two hands, accenting d♮s. That third voice, phrased differently than either of its neighbors, was inspired by Bartók. Don't worry; I won't write about everything as much as the first two measures.
The next eight measures carry on similarly, extending what was already written and concluding the introduction.
The form of this song in six verses is: Intro, A1, B1, A2, B2, A3, B3, Postlude.
The first verse, A1, is in b dorian. It's accompanied by imitation in the right hand, in addition to Bartók and the drone. To relieve us of the drone, I moved the second verse to f# dorian, set to the melody from the introduction. Here, the vocal line and the right hand are close to being in unison.
At this point in the song, we've established all of our material.
The third verse inverts the A section, maintaining the original accompaniment, and the fourth verse inverts the B section, also maintaining the original accompaniment. B dorian is symmetric around b or f, and f♯ dorian is symmetric around f♯ or c (but it's a better sentence if I call it b♯). In other words, to get the inversion in b dorian, you can "flip" each note across the axis of b. So b becomes b, c♯ becomes a, d becomes g♯, etc. Flipping b dorian around f produces the same cipher.
To get the inversion in f♯ dorian, you can flip each note across f♯ which means that f♯ becomes f♯, g♯ becomes e, a becomes d, etc. Section B2 ended up being a little too high or a little too low for any given member of my posse of vocalists, so I left both options in the score.
The last two verses are set to sections A3 and B3. A3 simply presents a return to b dorian, because we all love returns. But for B3, instead of a regular f# dorian, I borrowed the idea of raising the 7th scale degree of a minor scale to create a major dominant harmony, and then threw that concept into f# dorian. So that scale became F♯ G♯ A♯ B C♯ D E F♯. An ascending melodic minor scale is a minor pentascale with a major ending, and this is the reverse of that - a major pentascale with a natural minor ending. This basically came about because I wanted something like a Picardy third at the end of the bridge from A3 to B3, for the Hatter strongly felt that the sun had come out, and it was time for another cube of sugar in the tea.
Speaking of that bridge, it gets shortened and more rhythmically active with each iteration. The bridge from A1 to B1 walks us out of that b dorian drone with eight full measures, for we have heard it with unwavering determination for the first 23 measures. We needed to be led gently, gently, ever so gently. Once the path had been forged, we could tread upon it more freely; A2 to B2 is a mere six measures, and A3 to B3 is only three.
That's almost all there is to say about that. The piece was really an outgrowth of two measures. The postlude quotes Quadrille in d lydian, the Duchess makes an appearance in hemiolas (as one does), and shifting harmonies bring us back to the bells bells bells bells bells of the Mouse's major Dies Irae. That majorness really does propel the postlude to nearly conclude with a disturbing, yet triumphant B mixolydian, but the final say - the flourish that brings to mind the Crocodile quote at the end of Turtle Soup - is the entire b dorian scale as a rolled chord.
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I edited the Walrus to have a Tweedledum, as requested by me, and more movement between verses, as requested by my darling Cheshire. 'Twas nothing but a trifle; took only the better part of an afternoon. And that concludes Stuff & Nonsense compositions for 2025.
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