An account of dynamics in
timbre in qin
music would
follow much the same angle as we saw with rhythm. Here
again there is little real systematization (at least
across the various mutually contradictory treatises),
but the tradition permits a huge range. Indeed, fine
control of dynamic and timbral elements is a highly
distinctive focus of Chinese music, with these two
elements typically conflated under a heading like
“substance” or “touch”. There are infinite ways to
activate the sound of an instrument, and Chinese music
has devoted unsurpassed attention to subtleties of
“flavor,” “touch,” and other subjective terms we must
use to conjure up rich, thick feelings about a musical
line, phrase, or note. In fact, if other monophonic
systems are best-known for their theoretical investment
in scales and melodic patterns, the Chinese tradition of
formal theory is overwhelmingly concerned with the
“character” or “three-dimensional profile” of each note
in a piece.
This may not be easy to understand (I certainly haven’t
done a good job of presenting it so far), so without
further ado I turn the mic over to Li Xiangting. This
leading contemporary qin
master has written
a modern neo-classical manifesto of qin
aesthetics (which
you can find here), in the style of the late
imperial treatises. After spending the requisite time
talking on the philosophical and extramusical planes, he
drops down to the technical level and discusses the
“eight standards” of qin
performance.
These are (1) light/heavy, (2) fast/slow, (3)
square/circular, (4) firm/gentle, (5) thick/distilled,
(6) bright/dark, (7) empty/full, and (8)
discrete/continuous. Every note, apparently, necessarily
has scores along all 8 polarities. That means next time
you strum your guitar or plunk some keys on your piano,
you’re generating sounds with particular degrees of
lightness, circularity, distillation, and darkness, all
of which qualities are distinct! The classical Chinese
master must control all of these elements in the
execution of each note.
The selection of 8 polarities is of course just one
possible scheme: other writers have employed more, and one
could theoretically add new ones like “chewiness/resistance
to chewing” or “paper/plastic.” All such terms are
essentially poetic images meant to draw your attention to
different aspects of the activated sound. The Chinese view
is of sound as a complex, textured, reactive, 3-dimensional
entity that can be manipulated in many different ways. This
theoretical and aesthetic focus accounts for the emphasis
on ornamentation and attack in Chinese music: it employs a
huge variety of vibrati, glissandi, note-to-note
transitions, and physical techniques for sounding each
instrument according to differential pressure, angle, and
duration.
This attentiveness to dynamic and timbral detail can be
seen as the technical manifestation of the dense
allusiveness and meaning-ladenness of the classical
repertoire. For each meaning and image contained in the
“Drunkenness” piece, there is a particular correct or
appropriate configuration of “circularity,” “distillation,”
“chewiness,” and “paperiness.” Masters will largely
distinguish themselves by their highly individual
application of dynamic and timbral effects. Li Xiangting,
for instance, is distinctive for his short, powerful
attacks animated with delicate vibrati and ending in rapid
decays; his fellow-student Wu Wenguang by softer attacks,
more pressure differences, and a more “liquid” or
continuous approach to the notes. All of this takes place
on a plane distinct
from the more
ordinary or universal focus on rhythm and melody. Masters
may change rhythmic and pitch patterns among notes all they
like, but what is distinctly Chinese is the intense
attention to the character of each individual note in the
patterns. The density of dynamic and timbral ideas in
Chinese music is yet another way Chinese musicians overcome
the limitations of their scale system.