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Text-Painting A Case Study Exploring Set PDF
Text-Painting A Case Study Exploring Set PDF
Abstract
Given the importance of text to the analysis of many musical works, it is worth
thinking about the methods we use when examining the text’s connection to
the music. A preliminary analysis comparing separate settings of the same text
seems to show that text representation (a specific type of interaction between
text and music) is indeed part of the composition process, and not merely a fig-
ment of the analyst’s imagination. However, the ways in which text motivates
music are not fixed and consistent across an entire repertoire. Since such anal-
yses are difficult to conduct objectively and comprehensively, they are fertile
Perhaps it would go too far to say that texted music is always less abstract than music without
lyrics. Some instrumental music is decidedly programmatic; or if not, the composer may at least
have attempted to communicate a very specific emotion through the music. However, while music
can certainly be analyzed in terms of its objective representation or with regard to the composer’s
intent, a work’s text adds a unique aspect to its meaning that is not encompassed by these other
two considerations. When words are incorporated into a piece of music, they have the power to
affect the music—whether it is because of the composer, who often creates the music with the text
in mind, or whether the meaning is created solely in the mind of a listener who is aware of the
text’s meaning. Understanding the text associated with a piece of music is thus an integral part of
understanding the music in its broader context.
One way of understanding a piece of music through its associated words is to analyze the ways
in which the words may have affected the composer’s choice of texture, rhythms, melodic patterns
or harmony. This is difficult to accomplish systematically, since in most cases we can only guess
at the composer’s intentions, and there is no complete objective correspondence between language
When looking at any analysis of the ways in which a work represents its text, it is possible to argue
that the connection exists only in the analyst’s mind. An analyst can claim that any word is impor-
tant if it exists in a musically unusual context, regardless of whether the composer regarded it as
important; similarly, an analyst can see uniqueness in the music where none was intended, simply
To reduce the possibility of this kind of confirmation bias in a reasonably large-scale analysis,
we need objective methods. Creating algorithms which look for text representation would need
to be at least as sophisticated as those looking for specific melodic patterns or consecutive vertical
intervals. (They would not need to be much more sophisticated either; since the goal is an objective
analysis of the music that seeks to determine what relationships, if any, are present between music
and text, it is not necessary or even desirable to provide possible relationships as input.) Of course,
in order to make use of such searches using a computer, it is necessary to have an encoding that
meaningfully represents text as well.
In this paper, I will not make an outline of potential algorithms, let alone test them. However,
I hope to demonstrate the practicality of such an approach by comparing two pairs of sixteenth-
century text settings: the eight-line stanzas “Giunto alla tomba” and “Vezzosi augelli” as set by
the contemporaries Giaches de Wert (1535–1596) and Luca Marenzio (c. 1553–1599). Both texts are
drawn from Torquato Tasso’s magnum opus La Gerusalemme liberata—a vastly popular work for
madrigal settings in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (Hanning). The two texts depict con-
trasting moods: “Giunto alla tomba” describes a weeping man approaching the tomb of a loved one,
while “Vezzosi augelli” describes the joyously singing birds. The two settings of each of these texts
exhibit musical similarities in corresponding places in the text that chance does not explain.
Before examining the pairs of settings for similarities in corresponding texts, I identified the fol-
lowing areas as possible manifestations of text representation:
• Range relative to ambitus
The range of a section of music, especially when considered relative to the ambitus of the parts
throughout the entire piece, is used in text representation. A prime example of range used to special
effect is at the beginning of both settings of “Giunto alla tomba”: it is on the word tomba specifically
that the basso part has E, which is the lowest note in each madrigal (Examples 1, 2). Nowhere else
The low E in both these settings is certainly salient: its status as the low extreme of the range
is objective. The observation that it is the same word receiving special treatment in both settings is
also objective. Given these two facts, it is easy to speculate on why tomba should receive the low E: it
is a striking visual image; it is symbolically rich; it figures in the first words, which set the scene for
the rest of the stanza (and which may also be well known). However, we cannot validly conclude
that tombs are generally associated with low notes in the basso and vice versa, based on these two
examples alone—we would need to examine an entire group of works to make such a claim.
Many melodic motives are also salient; their repetition over an extended setting of the phrase
emphasizes their presence to the listener as much as it does to the analyst. Marenzio’s and Wert’s
settings of “Giunto alla tomba” each make extended use of a descending melodic motive when
describing flowing tears, with the word sgorgando being repeated (Examples 3, 4). The fact that these
two settings are not identical, though they share a common feature, suggests that while the text may
motivate at least one aspect of the music, there is no definite and self-evident connection between
the word and a particular musical realization.
It also seems that the rhythmic structure and interaction of the parts also can be motivated by
the text. Voices can be homorhythmic; they can move in parallel motion, perhaps forming imitative
duos; they can also rapidly take turns repeating a very short fragment. This last effect is used in
“Vezzosi augelli” by both Wert and Marenzio when setting garrir, a word which can denote either
fluttering or chirping: the word is repeated by itself in a short motive that is bandied about by the
various parts (Examples 5, 6).
It is easy to see a connection between a word which describes a rapid alternation (perhaps even
with reference to sound) and such a rhythmic texture. That such a connection should be accidental
is unlikely, as it occurs in two settings—with different melodic material being repeated, but the
same effect being used.
Finally, horizontal intervals in a single part are used in both settings of both pieces. Large
melodic leaps are marked, and so are relatively unlikely to occur without motivation; furthermore,
each leap is repeated at least once, as if to stress that it is intentional and not the result of exigency. In
Wert’s setting of “Vezzosi augelli,” an ascending octave leap is set at the word alto, which, although
it more likely indicates loudness in the text, also carries the musical meaning of “high in pitch”; in
Marenzio’s setting, the octave leap is set on the following word, risponde, but its repetition strength-
ens the case that the leap is intentionally descriptive (Examples 7, 8). The text representation in both
settings may also make use of range, as the alto voice is at its highest note twice on the word alto (and
it is only used three times. Furthermore, the final use is in the bass at the final cadence, which is
expected regardless of textual considerations (Example 10).
The preceding examples demonstrate that non-chance connections between text and music do oc-
cur in madrigal settings (and of course could occur in other vocal music as well). However, they
do not explain why a composer would choose to use these musical elements when setting specific
words. The obvious solution is that the musical elements chosen actually depict the text, and vividly
convey the meaning to the listener. Applying this view to a given text representation implies that
if the music were sung using neutral syllables, the listener would be able to recover at least some of
alla tomba,” it accompanies a description of the pleasant murmuring of the breeze (Example 12). It
is harder to argue that this latter setting constitutes direct text representation, and indeed a descend-
ing scale is so simple that it is hard to imagine it could never be used without regard for a text.
Perhaps a more nuanced answer to the question of the purpose of text representation, then, is
that it provides internal, rather than external, contrast. Rather than universally depicting tombs,
the low range at the beginning of “Giunto alla tomba” draws attention to that location within the
work; it is at this point that the listener may (or may not) make a connection between the music
and the word tomba. The low range draws attention to a different meaning altogether in Marenzio’s
“Vezzosi augelli.” Here, the contrast is between quiet and loud sounds—entirely different from the
meaning of the words in “Giunto alla tombo,” but still one that makes sense within the scope of
the madrigal itself. Note that the flexibility and non-correspondence of text representation does not
mean that it is non-existent; the corresponding examples listed in the previous section demonstrate
that text-painting is “real” in the sense that it can evidently be intended composer. It means simply
that musical formulas do not need to function as language, having a well-defined range of meanings
that hold true across all pieces in a style (let alone pieces in all styles).
A more radical possibility is that text representation is not even intended for the listener’s ears,
but is merely a source of raw material for the composer. An analogy may be found in the use of
musical cryptograms, such as the dsch (or D –Eƌ –C–B) used by Dmitri Shostakovich to represent
his own name. Unless the program notes of a concert were to draw attention to the source of the
cryptogram, the audience would be unlikely to notice it, given its abstract nature. Text representa-
tion may not be quite so abstract as such a cryptogram, but it is still far more abstract than language.
Still, even if some text representation is so abstract as to render it obscure to the listener in the ab-
sence of explanation, the text’s relevance to the composer—or, for that matter, to the analyst—is
not undercut.
Of course, these three possibilities are not mutually exclusive; more than one of them may be
true, depending on the specific instance of text representation.
This brief exploration leaves many questions unanswered. I hope to have shown that text represen-
tation occupies a space in between pure chance and language-like precision, but precisely how it
also be too broad, or overlap. A thorough analysis could establish a controlled vocabulary of useful
Second, an examination of text representation across styles could shed light on how different
musical periods, geographic areas, composers and styles approach the text and allow it to affect
their music. Vertical sonorities (which I did not examine in detail in the four madrigals under con-
sideration) may well be more important in later, common-practice music than they are in sixteenth-
century repertoire; or, if they are not more common, they would undoubtedly prove to be different
in character. The considerations involved in the choice of mode, too, seem to have changed over
time: though theorists of the Renaissance certainly ascribe emotional connotations to the different
modes, music of the period does not display the rigid major–minor dichotomy that is such a fixture
of common-practice music.
With regard to both of these paths of study, a digital analysis should prove useful. Digital tools
can help formulate categories of text representation: given a list of musical characteristics that are
considered marked, an algorithm could search for patterns in the text that is set. Even absent such
input, an algorithm could statistically find the marked passages, revealing text representation that
may have otherwise gone unnoticed. Once such algorithms are established, the preferred methods
of text representation for a given group of works could be automatically ranked. As a result of such
an analysis, musicologists would learn more about style—from the perspective of both the listener
and the composer.
References
Hanning, Barbara R. “Tasso, Torquato.” Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford
University Press. Web. 2014 Nov 29.
———. “Vezzosi augelli in fra le verdi fronde.” Ed. Allen Garvin. 2013. Web.
Wert, Giaches de. “Giunto alla tomba, ove al suo spirto vivo.” Ed. Allen Garvin. 2013. Web.
———. “Vezzosi Augelli infra le verdi fronde.” Ed. Allen Garvin. 2013. Web.