People complaining about baffling New Complexity scores is nothing new, as in the Middle Ages there was a similar movement of performance and notational complexity for its own sake - ars subtilior. Borne in France in the mid 14th century and centered around Avignon, the style extended the precedent set by the established ars nova style by adding a lot of rhythmic variance, most notably the use of red-colored notes to indicate a rhythmic alteration by a third. While that might not sound like much on paper, these pieces can get pretty wacky, difficult to perform even in today's hyper-notated performing environment. Take the meter shifting in Johannes Ciconia's charming Venetia mundi splendor, for example:
Believe it or not, this isn't nearly the wackiest stuff I've seen from these guys, and the still nascent state of notation of the time made reading these scores a challenge in itself. These pieces were most likely intended for a very small, elite audience, and was arguably the first time new music was created through technical experimentation. It's also notable that almost all this music was written on secular texts rather than sacred ones, allowing for a wide variety of subjects from love to war to birthday odes. How fun would it be for somebody to add goofball shapes on top of this complexity?
Enter Baude Cordier (c.1380-<1440), master of eye music (like the circular canon at the top of the article). Not content to let straight lines keep him enslaved, he set out to make his Belle, bonne, sage recognizable from several yards away. I mentioned in my article on Hans Otte that printing templates make bookmaking less artful, and Belle, bonne, sage is one of the finest examples of art music made by hand. Look at those giant, ornate first letters! Check out the expert penmanship on the notes! There are actually three visible hearts, and it's easy enough to see the Big One and the small one linked to the bottom staff line of the Big One's upper half like a gumball-machine-prize key ring. However, if you look in the Big One's lower half and squint hard enough at the cluster of colored notes it may start to resemble a heart if you want to feel the love. All kidding aside this is a gorgeous piece of Medieval art, a loving synthesis of sight and sound that would make for a lovely valentine to your equally nerdy beloved. And just in case you think this piece is unperformable, here's Ensemble Organum singing the pants off it. Happy Valentine's Day!
Enter Baude Cordier (c.1380-<1440), master of eye music (like the circular canon at the top of the article). Not content to let straight lines keep him enslaved, he set out to make his Belle, bonne, sage recognizable from several yards away. I mentioned in my article on Hans Otte that printing templates make bookmaking less artful, and Belle, bonne, sage is one of the finest examples of art music made by hand. Look at those giant, ornate first letters! Check out the expert penmanship on the notes! There are actually three visible hearts, and it's easy enough to see the Big One and the small one linked to the bottom staff line of the Big One's upper half like a gumball-machine-prize key ring. However, if you look in the Big One's lower half and squint hard enough at the cluster of colored notes it may start to resemble a heart if you want to feel the love. All kidding aside this is a gorgeous piece of Medieval art, a loving synthesis of sight and sound that would make for a lovely valentine to your equally nerdy beloved. And just in case you think this piece is unperformable, here's Ensemble Organum singing the pants off it. Happy Valentine's Day!
~PNK
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