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.
(will be deleted after October)
(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, 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 8-bar phrases, but it ought to be slow and sad. Pants. Something's got to give; stay tuned.
