Instruments and troubadour song

Along with arguing against instruments in polyphonic motets, Chris Page is known for arguing that the 'high poetic' style of troubadour song was also unaccompanied. Joel Cohen discusses some counter evidence in this essay, but I was also interested to find this passage in Page's 'The Owl and the Nightingale' from the 1235 poem Guiron le courtois:

[the court ladies, the queen and some knights are in a loggia by the riverbank] "In their company was a harpist who was harping for them a song that had just been composed by a knight from north Wales. The girl who was called Orgayne sang the song while the man harped."

This seems very clear, and Page himself comments that it shows "the important place of women in performing the songs of the trouveres" (i.e., he accepts that 'just composed by a knight' is intended to indicate a 'high poetic' style song). Perhaps one could quibble over 'troubadour' vs. 'trouvere', but surely it also shows the importance of instrumentalists in both accompanying and passing on these songs to new audiences?

Pre-Early Music

Today we have a guest post from Chris:

For most of the 'revival' period of medieval music from the early 1970's it has been classed as a branch of classical music. For a brief period at the beginning it had a larger overlap with folk music in Britain. Then the 'Early Music' brand was invented, driven by a much needed rethink about performance practice of Baroque music with period instruments, and a general consideration of what the music was like at the time of writing. And so medieval music, being obviously 'early' was included.

But do 'Early Music' enthusiasts even like medieval music? In my experience the crossover is actually very small.

I believe that the greatest watershed in music occurred somewhere between say 1470 and 1525 - rather arbitrary dates - when Western music moved from essentially modal to essentially harmonic. (A recent comment by a well informed practitioner of medieval music I believe said it was all Dufay's fault.)

The modal nature of medieval music seems to have prompted many of our first-time listeners to say to us "it sounds 'Eastern' " and there does seem a much larger overlap with people interested in medieval music and the 'World Music' brand, particularly Balkan and Middle Eastern. This has probably done a lot to influence the performance of medieval music, perhaps often not for the best results. But the recognition of the modal style seems to be there.

Most people who like Renaissance music associate it with, and appreciate, its harmonic structure; whereas they find modal music difficult to fathom.

But given this watershed around 1500 can Medieval music be lumped together with Renaissance & Baroque?  I think not. I have often been involved in 'Early Music' projects and groups but found that it is overwhelmingly about the post-1500 music with pre-1500 music included to 'make the set' (often with us providing the first 500 years of the '1000 Years of Music'). If we are involved with 'Early Music' people the assumption is we also play post-1500 music Early Music.

So because I am getting a bit fed up with saying, 'no, we don't play harpsichords, and if we see or hear a crumhorn we want to scream', I now say we are not 'Early Music', we are Pre-Early Music.  

Fun without drums?

'Boy band' medieval is perhaps an extreme example, but there can be a general impression that drums were a fairly ubiquitous part of the medieval sound world, at least for the fun and/or loud instrumental genres. So it can be surprising to see that iconographic evidence does not strongly support this.

For example I have rarely seen pictures of drums played with bagpipes, and the standard loud ensembles of shawms (with or without sackbuts) pictured so often entertaining feasts or dances does not include a drummer.

Probably the most common form of drum depicted is the pipe-and-tabor player, usually on their own, although frame drum and fiddle also seems quite a common combination. It would be interesting to know if the term 'taborer' mentioned in written records implies pipe and tabor - this seems particularly plausible when they are employed alone.

Drums and fun II

Yesterday I linked to Benjamin Bagby's essay on medieval music performance, quoting his list of diverse approaches to medieval concerts. Although not clearly included in Bagby's list  (perhaps beneath his notice?) I would say the dominant 'drums and fun' approach around today is exemplified by the many German 'medieval boy bands', such as Corvax Corax. I first saw Corvax Corax at a medieval fair in Germany about 20 years ago, when they were still more medieval than 'neo-medieval', e.g., the costumes had rather less fantasy (and leather), the performance was unamplified, with a relatively authentic ensemble of bagpipes, shawms and drums. And I have to say they made a very positive impression. The energy, communication with the crowd, ensemble playing, the feeling that they 'owned' the music (playing from memory, improvising) seemed to bring something much closer to a medieval experience than many supposedly 'historically informed' concerts I had seen, in which instrumentalists (performing the very same medieval dance tunes) had never raised their eyes from their music stands.

I agree with the general thrust of Bagby's essay that medieval music should be taken seriously, on its own terms, and deserves the same kind of in depth study as music of any other period. But treating it (for performance purposes) like classical music may sometimes be just as damaging to authenticity as 'drums and fun'.

Drums and fun

Some interesting points about medieval music performance, from a leading performer, Benjamin Bagby, can be found in this essay: "What is the sound of medieval music?". He writes:

"...in today’s world of medieval music one can also encounter the concert experience as pretentious pseudo-liturgy; as ironic, edgy cabaret; as ponderous mystery play or cute, costumed courtly entertainment; as ecstatic ethnic percussion session ; as extravagantly-orchestrated symphonic poem; as dutiful list of dry musical examples; as SCA free-for-all, etc....There are many reasons for this situation, but one reason is obvious: the trivialisation of the Middle Ages (and hence medieval music) in our own popular culture has obscured the reality of medieval musical life, and has had consequences for the perceptions and expectations of medieval music performance in our own time (Carl Orff’s ‚Carmina Burana’ certainly contributed to this situation, already in 1937). We still suffer from a syndrome which is collectively known as ‚drums and fun.’ "

I do recommend reading the whole thing (not that I agree with it all, but much food for thought).

Is something missing?

One of my favourite British medieval music groups is the Dufay Collective. They were formed in 1987, by which time the 'a cappella' movement was well entrenched in Britain. As a primarily instrumental group it is not surprising that they focussed in their earliest recordings and concert programmes on performing that part of the repertoire which no-one (as far as I know!) disputes is instrumental - the estampies, instampittas, salterellos and so on. I just looked back at their CD notes to see whether any comment relevant to the 'a cappella' debate was made, and found that they lamented (like many others have done) that, as medieval instrumental music was mostly an oral and improvised tradition, the large majority of it is lost to us.

I think this is in one sense true: for example, there were probably many more dance tunes existing than those that were written down and have survived; and probably also approaches to performance (such as instrumentation, ornamentation and improvisation) that were not captured even where there is musical notation.

However, in another sense I am not so sure. Is it likely there were whole categories of instrumental music that existed but of which there is no record at all? Complete performance styles that we can never begin to reconstruct, however speculatively? And is the surviving vocal music not some clue to what instrumental polyphony - if it existed - might have been?

A logical leap

I've been trying to trace back through the scholarly arguments for 'a cappella' performance, and finding it frequently takes this form:

1. Such and such an earlier scholar said that one or more lines in some polyphonic musical genre (e.g. ars antiqua hockets, the tenor in ars nova motets, 15th century contratenors) was obviously intended to be instrumental, due to it being untexted and in some other ways different from main vocal line (e.g. slow, ornate, unusual interval jumps).
2. However evidence can be brought forward to suggest it is possible for all lines to be performed vocally. Some evidence is internal (e.g. manuscript details such as indications of underlay), some external (e.g. some literary accounts of performance that don't mention instruments) and some comes performance practice (e.g. flexibility in tuning successive intervals that can be difficult on some instruments). 
3. Therefore it is wrong (inauthentic, not historically informed) to perform this music with instruments on some lines.

Clearly there's a gap between 2 and 3.

The minstrel's life

I've mentioned before the book Menestrellorum Multitudo: Minstrels at a Royal Feast (1978) by Constance Bullock-Davies. This collection of little snippets from the account books of Edward I & II provide all sorts of tantalising insights into the minstrel's life. For example:

[From a wardrobe book of 1305/6] 2s. to Martinet, the minstrel, for making his minstrelsy in the presence of the two young princes and for repairing his tabor, broken by them. By gift of the two princes. 12 July. Ludgershall.

The princes' interest in (and enthusiastic interaction with) drums seems to continue because in an entry on 18 November:

11d. to Martinet the Taborer,  for the repair of the little drums [tymbrium] of the King's sons and for money paid to him for parchment for covering same.

Later it appears Martinet brings along company to keep the princes at bay:

20s. to Martinet the Taborer and William and John the trumpeters, minstrels [of the] 2 [young princes] for making their minstrelsy in their presence on the Eve and the Feast of Epiphany. By gift of the princes. 5/6 January. Windsor castle.

The same Martinet is also mentioned as 'minstrel of hall and stable' when he is allowed 7 ells of cloth and 1 lamb's fur for his outfit.

 

Background chat

To show it wasn't just the lax standards of the 15th century that allowed king and courtiers to talk through someone's song, here is an equivalent complaint from 1210:

..there are those without any consideration who will speak to you [the minstrel] aside and ask you to sing in front of everyone else; and they will not observe good manners nor time nor occasion, and at the third word of the song, whatever you are singing, they will grumble and begin to mutter to someone else, or begin to tell a story...

(from Abril issia, written by Raimon Vidal, translation from C. Page "The owl and the nightingale").

Talking point

 Another interesting quote from a period source courtesy of Chris Page "The performance of songs in late medieval France: A new source". This comes from the 15th century romance, Cleriadus and Meliadice and describes how after dinner, in the great hall:

the minstrels began to play loud wind instruments [commencerent a corner] . A great lord of the court took the fair Meliadice. Cleriadus took one of the ladies and all the men and women began to dance. The entertainment lasted a long time And when they had danced their fill the minstrels ceased and they began to sing. There might you have heard men and women singing well! Now Meliadice was next to Cleriadus and another knight in the retinue of the Count. She said to Cleriadus: 'Pray sing a song from your country; you have heard enough songs from ours'
. . . And then Cleriadus began a song so well that all those who were there listened to him gladly. They all said that they had never heard anyone sing so well. Even the king himself
stopped talking to hear Cleriadus.

Page's main point in quoting this passage is to note that minstrels stop playing when the singing starts, as evidence that singing was (generally) unaccompanied. Although it is apparent that the loud winds being used by the minstrels on this occasion would not be suitable to accompany song in any case, there is also no mention here (or elsewhere) in the romance of other, quieter, instruments being used when songs were being performed (although, interestingly, there is several times mention of dancing to singing; and also a passage in which Cleriadus composes music for a rondeau sent to him by Meliadice, and immediately "put it on the harp" and played it). Rather, there are several explicit mentions of polyphonic music being sung by two or  three people, e.g. Cleriadus calling on a young page to sing with him, and a squire to hold the tenor.

But what I particularly like about the passage is that "Even the king himself stopped talking..." to hear the performance. Suggesting that it was certainly not unusual for music to be occurring against a background of conversation.

Turn up the volume!

This post was sparked both my previous comments on the 'lute in the great hall' problem and also thinking a bit about rebecs - thanks to an earlier comment. In particular, how most reconstructed rebecs I have heard (with a few notable exceptions) sounded very weedy (could even be drowned out by a crumhorn!). Was the rebec a particularly quiet instrument, and the problem is our expectations based on the lush sound of a violin or cello? Or is this an indication that the reconstruction is probably not a good one?

This quiet tendency can be found more generally as a current performance style for medieval music - the gently tinkling harp, the soft breathy voice - but I think might be an aesthetic that owes a lot to modern amplification and recording techniques (and even in the absence of technology, the expectation of rapt silence  from the classical concert audience). The modern musician often does not have to concern themselves over whether their instrument or technique produces sufficient volume. The real medieval musician who played or sung too quietly to be clearly heard would not have been admired.

A little note on this with regard to voices, from Chris Page's 1988 article, 'The performance of Ars Antiqua motets'. Apparently there are many medieval sources praising 'haut' or 'alta' voices. Although the literal meaning is "high", and that has been a common interpretation, it could equally mean "loud": he gives two quotes from a 1340 sermon showing both meanings being used (p.154):

when a brother has a voice so alta and so beautiful it is customary to say that when he sings there is not a corner of the church which he cannot make resound

 It should be noted that any man is said to have an alta voice who sings five notes higher than his fellows

(note that 'five notes higher' suggests a tenor, not a counter-tenor).  Page points out that vocal production generally means 'high' and 'loud' go together. But it is also worth noting that 'loud' in the sense of audible can also be linked to 'high' if the context of performance includes background noise, particularly people talking. A pitch of voice or instrument that sits above the range of normal speech will be more easily heard. I've come across a few period comments about the audience talking while the minstrel performed - perhaps material for another post.

Female musicians

Another misconception I have occasionally encountered is that "of course in the middle ages, women would not have been professional musicians". I'm not sure if this is based on the assumption that women did not have professions of any kind in the middle ages (certainly not true) or whether it is something about the status and nature of performing music that makes people think it an unlikely occupation for women.

In yesterday's post I mentioned the Ypres ordinances, the last one specifying "only two minstrels from Ypres, either men or women, could attend the wedding breakfast." A fairly clear indication that females could have the profession of minstrel, as is the fact of the 37 signatories of the 1321 Paris minstrel's guild statutes, eight were women.

Perhaps when it comes to women playing in a shawm band we are on shakier ground. I am not sure if there is any evidence of female 'town waites', nor have I seen pictures of a shawm band playing at a feast, or for dancing, including females. However there are depictions of women playing the shawm, for example this one:

N.B. I have taken this from the cover of "The Recorder Consort", vol. III, Steve Rosenberg and would be grateful if anyone can tell me the actual source (and apologies if this is a copyright infringement - I will remove it if there is a problem!). From the costume it looks 15th century. And to avoid confusion, I should mention that the picture at the top of this blog was painted by myself, so does not provide further evidence. It is based on a beautiful carved ivory 15th century chessboard, but the musicians in the original were all male.

Minstrels at weddings

It seems that as well as the pesky problem of 'foreign' minstrels turning up uninvited, even 'local' or invited minstrels might have had some sharp practices at wedding feasts. In Nigel Wilkins 'Music in the Age of Chaucer' I found this summary of injunctions issued to minstrels by the Ypres magistrates in 1295:

• minstrels playing at a wedding feast in the town were to pay a tax
• "when playing their instruments they should not approach guests within the courtyard where the ceremony was taking place" [is the implication the minstrels were approaching the guests for tips?]
• the bride and groom should only pay two sous for minstrels arriving on horseback from elsewhere, and 12 deniers if they arrived on foot [implying minstrels were trying extort more money by exaggerating their travel expenses?]
• only two minstrels from Ypres, either men or women, could attend the wedding breakfast.

In Paris, the 1321 statutes of the minstrel's guild (which I am sure I will talk about again) include a fine for any minstrel who touts for custom at weddings, and specifies that minstrels engaged for a feast or wedding must stay till the end of festivities (i.e. not leave early for another engagement).

Of course, we would never do any of these things!

Wandering thoughts

What are some other things we would like medieval event organisers to realise are misconceptions about medieval music?

Well, here's one: at large feasts in castle great halls, the background music was probably not provided by a solo lutenist. More generally, a need to use amplification is a good indication you have chosen the wrong instrumental ensemble for the occasion.

Minstrel vs. musician II

While it is interesting to explore the role of the professional minstrel (thanks to this commenter for reflections on some examples in Scotland) I don't want to lose sight of the fact that the historical performance context of this music was not always - perhaps not even most often - professional. Nobles would be expected to have at least some knowledge of music, ideally be able to perform something if requested, and might be highly accomplished instrumentalists.

One of my favourites is James I of Scotland, who in the early 15th century spent 18 years of his young life a captive of the English, but seems to have used the time well to acquire musical (amongst other) skills. He was described by Walter Bower in 1437 as not only distinguished in singing but:

"also in high standard of performance on the drum, for example, and the fiddle, on the psaltery and organ, the flute and harp, the trumpet and pipe, certainly not as an enthusiastic amateur, but attaining the highest degree of mastery...especially in handling the harp." 

An evening after his eventual return to Scotland is described thus:

"Both afore supper and long aftere ynto quarter of the nyght, in which the Erle of Athelles and Robert Stward were aboute the Kyng, where they were occupied at the playing of the chesse, at the tables; yn syngyng, and pypyng, yn harpyng and other honest solaces of grete plesaunce and disporte"

(Both quotes come from the book  Tree of Strings by K. Sanger & A. Kinnaird, p.81)

In performing myself it can be nice to have that image in mind - I am playing to the audience not as their paid employee (a minstrel) but as a noble demonstrating my skills to other nobles for their pleasure. Although I suppose it is easier for a king to be sure of a good reception.

Coming here and taking our jobs...

It seems some things never change. A petition for the incorporation of the minstrels guild in London in 1500 complains: "wheras the continual recourse of foreign minstrels daily resorting to this city...causing your said suppliant freemen to be brought into such poverty...because their living is taken from them by such manner of foreigns." (quoted on p10, Apollo's Swan & Lyre: Five Hundred Years of the Musicians Company, Richard Crewdson). The petition goes on to describe how sometimes 5 or 6 of these foreign minstrels would turn up uninvited at "churchholidays, dedications, Churchings, Weddings and other feasts...to the great grief displeasure of the Citizens and of their honest friends and neighbours..."

As Crewdson notes, 'foreign' in this case meant 'not a freeman of London' rather than necessarily from abroad, but the theme was common across trades, with the Skinners complaining in 1493 that they were "unable to obtain work owing to the great influx of strangers and foreign journeymen" and the Tailors in 1494 "a great number of strangers 'botchers' infested the city, each keeping daily in his house 3 or 4 strangers occupying the same handicraft, to the great prejudice of the King's liege subjects, who would gladly undertake the work if the strangers were not there".

Just say "no" to crumhorns

For some reason the crumhorn seems to have stuck in the general imagination as the go-to example of an early instrument. It is surprisingly common when I tell people I play medieval music to be asked some variant of "oh, do you mean like on the crumhorn?" or when actually performing to be asked (referring to the instrument in my hand) "is that a crumhorn"? This happens rather more often when I am playing shawm than when playing harp, but has occurred for a surprising variety of instruments. I think it is probably a British phenomena, though it would be interesting to know if this occurs elsewhere.

Why, why, why? Okay, so it is not reasonable to expect the average member of the public to make a distinction between renaissance and medieval music (though it might be better if more people did, food for a later discussion) and to know that this particular 'early' instrument was not actually around in the middle ages. In fact as far as I can tell these is no evidence for any wind-cap double reed in the middle ages. But why do they always pick crumhorn rather than some other early instrument?

Perhaps it is because the crumhorn is particularly distinct in sound and appearance from any modern instrument. If we are playing harp, fiddle and lute, they are not hard to recognise as variants on current instruments; the same for drums and bagpipes; and even the resemblance of shawm to oboe is easy to grasp once pointed out. But that exposes the exact problem with the crumhorn - the reason it doesn't look or sound like anything before or since is because it is not actually a practical or useful instrument: the distinctive shape is awkward to make without actually contributing to the sound; it is very limited in range and dynamic; is extremely difficult to play in tune; and produces a sound that does not fit well in mixed ensemble nor is enjoyable to hear in a group or on its own for more than the most limited duration. Basically I have never heard anything played on crumhorn(s) that would not sound much better on some other instrument.

The crumhorn was popularised (in the UK at least) in the mid-20th century early music revival. In particular it played a role as the 'next' and 'more exotic' instrument for recorder players; theoretically an 'easy' transition to obtain a more 'unique' early sound. In that sense it was perhaps replaying exactly the role it occupied in the early 16th century, i.e., a novelty for the amateur wind consort. A novelty that happily died a quick death at the time - so why does it linger on today...?

A comment on comments

As I'm new to this blogging platform, I'm still refining the settings. Specifically, I hadn't intended to require registration to comment, and have now changed it so comments can be added without registering (and anonymously if you wish) and unless some problem arises I don't plan to moderate comments. I hope that encourages more readers (according to the stats there are a few of you out there!) to add your thoughts.

Now I will have to come up with some controversial viewpoints to generate discussion. E.g. that the crumhorn was never a serious instrument...

Minstrel vs. musician

In the 13th and 14th centuries, for an (instrumental) musician to be described as a minstrel was an indicator of status, distinguishing them from the general entertainer or 'jongleur' who might number music amongst their range of skills in acrobatics, juggling and so on. As Bullock-Davies notes, the origin of the term 'menestrellus' is the same as that of 'minister', a professional role as a minor servant of a noble court.

By the 16th century, the composer Thomas Whythorne was very concerned to make it clear that he was a musician and not a minstrel "the scum of that profession" who "go with their instruments about the country to cities, towns, and villages... to private houses...to markets, fairs, marriages, assemblies, taverns, alehouses...and there to those that will hear them they will sell the sounds of their voices and instruments". A statute regarding vagrancy from around this time explicitly includes minstrels amongst the other kinds of rogues and vagabonds; turning up and playing music in the hope of getting paid was considered a criminal act. However, exception was made for those in livery - in other words, those who formally held the role of minstrel through attachment to a royal or noble court - or those with a licence to play in the town in question. And even the court records of those charged under the statute seem to show these 'vagrant' musicians were very often local (I'm drawing on the interesting information collected in the book "Paying the Piper: music in pre-1642 Cheshire" by Elizabeth Baldwin) e.g. David Jones of Chester and his fellow, both fiddlers, charged after being "so drunk that they slept in the fields and could not get home" after spending the evening (presumably playing their fiddles) in an alehouse in Dodleston - about two miles from Chester.

What constitutes 'wandering'?

So, having linked to Richard Rastell's thesis it seemed a good idea to read it! The first sentence of the first chapter: "The minstrel population of late medieval England was primarily itinerant." Given this reliable source seems to contradict the drift of my previous post, should I concede that minstrels were wandering after all?

Well, there is a continuum of 'itinerancy'. On the one hand this evokes the impression of musicians turning up at town or castle, playing on spec., and hoping for reward from crowd or noble (in modern terms, busking). On the other hand one might technically describe as itinerant a 'self-employed' musician who travels and plays in lots of places, but does because they have been engaged to play at various events. Maybe, in the days before mass communication, getting 'engaged to play' required a bit of 'busking', i.e., turning up at the castle when you had heard a feast was scheduled, or the town when a fair was scheduled, and offering to perform. Finally, there might be the musician who has a steady income linked to a place (e.g. a town) or person (e.g. a member of the royal household) but regularly supplements their income by playing in other places or for other people.

I'm not sure we can conclude from the main remaining evidence - payments in account books to various musicians who 'practiced their minstrelsy' on a particular occasions - which of these was the most typical experience of the medieval musician.

The wandering minstrel?

I'm sure we are not the only medieval musicians to have had the experience of being hired as 'wandering minstrels' at an event, with a clear expectation that we are literally meant to play while continuously wandering around (to the extent of being asked, when we had been playing in one spot for a while, why we weren't moving). Apart from the fact that walking and playing at the same time is not generally conducive to good performance, and a bit unfair on anyone who is actually trying to listen, is there any historical basis for this popular (mis-)conception?

So yes, musicians did sometimes play while walking/moving - in the context of processions. Indeed,  playing in processions seems to have been a significant part of their activities. But it seems unlikely that they regularly performed spontaneous solo processions at otherwise static events.

With a bit more thought, most people might admit their image of the 'wandering minstrel' refers to an itinerant musician, going from castle to castle or town to town, and performing their music in the hope of subsequent reward. (But presumably, in any one place, expected to stand still while they perform...)

However the historical record suggests that, though such travelling performers might have existed, this was not the typical minstrel's life. An interesting insight is given in the book  Menestrellorum Multitudo: Minstrels at a Royal Feast (1978) by Constance Bullock-Davies. (I've just found that a number of examples from this and other contemporary records of payments to minstrels are also listed here: Edward II and minstrels, looks like an interesting website). The book presents and discusses the payment record for musicians performing at a major celebration in 1306, when Prince Edward, son of Edward I of England, was knighted along with 300 companions (the reason for the mass knighting was in preparation for another campaign against Scotland, where Robert the Bruce had just murdered his rival, John Comyn, and had himself declared King). The record includes payments to 26 harpists and 13 vielle players, the most numerous instruments. Interestingly the majority of these performers can be traced not as itinerant musicians but as regular members of the household of the court or visiting nobles.

For example one payment is to Guillotin, the Queen’s psaltery-player, and Bullock-Davies traces out further information about him from the records (there is even a surviving picture!). He was attached to the retinue of successive queens of England for at least 25 years - though he certainly travelled a lot, this was always in service of the queen. The payment record mentions only one lute player, John, but again it is clear he had a long and important connection with the King. From 1285 he appears in the wardrobe accounts, being paid regular wages, including summer and winter outfits, being given a complete exemption from paying taxes, and being supplied with a “pommely grey rouncy” (horse) worth 8 marks when travelling with the king, as well as two servants to carry his instruments.

It sounds like a better life than wandering.

(Update, the thesis by Richard Rastall, referred to on the above Edward II website, can be found online here: Secular Musicians in Late Medieval England) 

Instruments and voices

So back to the issue of whether historical information justifies instrumental performance of vocal music. (I feel I should make a disclaimer here, as I am not a medieval music scholar, and there are doubtless many people out there who know more about this than I do...but as I am in the position of needing to decide what to perform, making myself write something about the issues at least helps me clarify the gaps in my knowledge).

Take as an example the 13th century secular 3-part motet, which typically has a different text underlay for each voice (technically, the lower voice does not really have underlay but rather the word representing the chant from which it is derived). Even for a purely vocal performance this raises issues - was it the case in period that all voices would always be sung together, with the resulting constraint on intelligibility? Examples where different manuscripts record 2, 3 and sometimes a 4th voice suggest some flexibility on this, and there is also a 1325 reference (Jacques de Liege) to each part of a motet being performed in isolation. And would it be sung only once, or repeated, perhaps allowing the listener a chance to focus on each voice in turn?

As hinted in an earlier post, I think there is good reason to think that motets might also sometimes been played by a single instrumentalist, perhaps with whatever concessions necessary on the instrument for the multiple lines (three lines are plausible on harp, but some sense of more than one line possible on quite a few other string instruments - and what about the double flute?). Intabulations seem to show this as a common practice for 14th and 15th century, but it could be late development. Also plausible is that an instrumentalist might have played one or more line while singing another.

But would several instrumentalists have played together, each following one line?  Such a performance has the advantage (over a single instrument intabulation ) of allowing the different timbres of instruments to distinguish the lines more clearly. But here the evidence gets murkier - there are certainly depictions of instrumentalists playing together, but that does not mean they played polyphony (plenty of musical traditions follow a multi-instrumental, monophonic model). On the other hands, some of the lines in motets are in fact based on dance tunes (e.g. caroles) so borrowing is certainly going on between monophonic and polyphonic genres.

And would instrumentalists and singers ever have performed together, either doubling or sharing the parts? In short, I don't know, but writing this has given me some impetus to try to find out a bit more...

"A certain high seriousness"

Something of an aside, but I was amused to read this in the chapter by Chris Page referred to in yesterday's post. Referring to the Medieval Ensemble of London (active in the late 70s and early 80s) he notes approvingly (page 25):

"Their sense that the performance of medieval music in Britain lacked a certain high seriousness was reflected in their choice of tails for concert dress so that the four members might give the appearance of a conservative chamber ensemble." 

Good food for further discussion. 20th century formal men's wear and a conservative chamber concert atmosphere might indeed contribute to "high seriousness", but surely not to authenticity?

Voices and instruments - the 'a cappella' orthodoxy

So - instruments and vocal music in the middle ages. When I started getting seriously interested in medieval music in the 1990s in Britain, as an instrumentalist, there were two obvious problems. First, the amount of surviving music that could be classed as instrumental from before 1400 is extremely limited (some estampies and istampittas and... that's about all). Second, there seemed to be a prevailing view that the huge remaining repertoire of vocal music should be sung. Only sung. Must be performed vocally or not at all. For a few genres (e.g. the more 'popular' ones) it might be okay to add instruments occasionally, but for most (particularly any high art music, or music with a liturgical origin, i.e., most of what survives as this is what tended to get written down) much better not, if you wanted to 'do it right'.

Hopefully some of you will recognise in this post's title the reference to one of the most influential researchers in this area, Christopher Page, who in particular brought extensive insights from study of literary sources that describe musical performance (I recommend anyone to read his work, both for the wealth of references and the lovely writing style). He is often given credit (or blamed, depending on your point of view) for promulgating the 'it must be only vocal'  ethos. Of course his actual writing is more nuanced, but this is the message that seems to have caught on.

In thinking about this post I re-read an interesting short chapter he wrote ("The English a cappella heresy" in Knighton & Fallows, Companion to Medieval and Renaissance Music) that provided some of the context in which he developed and presented these arguments. Basically, he was challenging existing scholarship that suggested that some melodic lines in polyphonic compositions were 'obviously' instrumental in character, and a prevailing performance practice that emphasised instrumental variety and virtuosity (or a "fad for exotic instruments"). Quite reasonably, he (and others) accumulated evidence (and demonstrated by example) that purely vocal performance of these pieces was both historically and practically plausible.

However, even if should be considered established that this music was 'vocal' - in the sense that the composer primarily intended it to be sung, and when heard in the middle ages, it was usually sung - this leaves wide open the question whether it was also played. The fact many early keyboard pieces are intabulations of (vocal) motets is a bit of a clue here. It seems unlikely instrumentalists were off in their own (sadly unrecorded) sound world and never thought of trying out the latest vocal compositions on their instruments. It may be that "musical instruments participated in liturgical services only on the most rare and solemn occasions" (Page, page 27) but would musicians have instantly forgotten these sounds as soon as they left the church? Perhaps it is a stretch to play organum on shawm and bagpipe (as we sometimes do) but it seems preferable to revive and present some of this vast, often unheard repertoire, than to play estampie 5 again.

Clearly lots to say on this topic so will continue in future!

Is this about 'authenticity'?

The concept of 'authenticity' in early music has a rather mixed reputation. It started out as a generally positive idea of exploring the performance of period music using instruments and ensembles more appropriate to the time the music was written, such as harpsicord vs. piano for early keyboard works, and small (e.g. one part to a line) vocal groups. But then there was a reaction against the implicit judgement that more authentic is more 'correct'; disagreement as to the extent to which musicians should feel constrained by the available information (and required to keep up as scholarship changes); and also inevitable realisation that if 'perfect authenticity' was the goal, this was impossible for a modern musician in a modern world to reach.

However, in my opinion, that doesn't mean we should "make the best the enemy of the good", i.e., abandon any attempt towards authenticity because the ideal cannot be obtained. A more popular phrase in recent times is "historically informed performance" (yes, we play "hip" music) which suggest that the performer has paid some at least some attention to the period context of the music they are presenting, but might pick and choose which parts of the available information to apply, or ignore. In this regard, having more information is not seen as a constraint but an opportunity.

And besides, I love information! For example, I'd recommend anyone who gets the chance to see Leah Stuttard perform her concert 'The Wool Merchant and the Harp' (there's also a CD), in which she explores a 15th century account book detailing the payments made by a young merchant in Calais for harp lessons - from which emerges a fairly clear picture of what repertoire a 15th century amateur harpist would have attempted to acquire. Fascinating stuff, and not bad as guide for any bray harpist to emulate.

Tomorrow I'll discuss the specific case of instrumental performance of (medieval) vocal music.

Why 'medieval musician'?

Obviously, I am not a musician from the middle ages, so why use the phrase 'medieval musician' as the title of this blog?

I guess I am trying to make this distinction: I haven't come to this activity as a musician who happens to know some medieval tunes; but rather as a medieval enthusiast with a particular interest in music (amongst other things, of which more later). Similarly, for me, performing this music is not just about learning some music that happens to date from before 1400 and playing it to the best of my ability, but rather trying to understand something about the context of composition, transmission and performance - to get at least a little way into the medieval mindset. This blog is a place for me to discuss ideas and evidence that can contribute to this inevitably fuzzy concept.

To illustrate the point, one of my main instruments is harp, and when people find this out they usually ask if  (or even assume) I regularly attend the Edinburgh International Harp Festival. But I am not super enthusiastic about the harp as an instrument per se - I have no special interest in hearing or learning about classical or folk harp music, which make up the majority of the event. I play harp because it was one of the most popular instruments in the middle ages, the dominant plucked instrument until the lute took over around 1500 (according to Myer's chart of instrument popularity, p.64 in Timothy J. McGee 'Medieval and Renaissance Music' - sorry, I can't find an online version of this fascinating chart).

I play a small lap harp, and a gothic bray harp, and each imposes important constraints on arrangements and technique that would be hard to discover if using a modern folk harp. Sure, trying this music on whatever instrument you have to hand may be a good way in, but I don't think it is the way forward. Unless your musical intent is to borrow something medieval and fuse it with something else - but I'll be posting soon on why I don't like fusion...

Introduction

I'm Cait, a member of the medieval music group Gaita. I'm starting this blog as a place to discuss interests and issues arising as I learn and perform music from the middle ages. For example, what is behind the myth of the 'wandering minstrel'? How much music survives, and how can we access it? What instrumental and vocal techniques seem most appropriate? Can we entertain a modern audience at a jolly 'medieval fayre' without compromising authenticity? What went wrong in the Renaissance?

The intention is to be opinionated but also open to discussion, particularly where ideas can be linked to the original sources we have available. I hope you might find it of interest.