I have mentioned that
Chinese music has a lot in common with systems from
South Asia and the Middle East, as opposed to the
Western music with which it is most often juxtaposed and
combined. In all the former systems there is an emphasis
on the selection and combination of pitches in a single
line so as to generate specific emotional, intellectual,
and aesthetic effects. Harmonic intervals like octaves,
fifths, fourths, and very occasionally thirds are used
in Chinese music, but not for the purpose of generating
tension and release, as in Western music: these
harmonies color and accent the melodic line without
distracting from it. In the West we are so used to
associating “well-developed music” with well-developed
harmony that monophony may strike us as a folkloric or
primitive mode of musicmaking. The well-documented
development of extensive polyphony in Western music over
time seems to offer an example of a teleological process
that took centuries to accelerate. But if there’s
anything we learn from surveying the world’s musics
across time and space, it is that people can draw
amazing products out of even very limited formal
palettes, and consequently that different palettes are
not “better” or “worse” but simply offer different
options to the musician. Monophonic music has remained
prevalent in many cultures with long histories of great
sophistication, so while it may necessarily have
developed before polyphony, there is nothing inherently
consigning it to a lower level of musical range and
expressiveness. In fact, if making a lot out of very
little is a measure of musical intelligence, the Chinese
might very well top all competition. Single-line Chinese
classical melodies, using only five notes per octave,
attained such a high level over the centuries that they
virtually “seem” diatonic, chromatic, harmonic, etc.;
that is, it’s very easy to forget that what you’re
listening to is built on such simple foundations.
Melodically-oriented musical systems can work their magic
over seconds or hours. It’s especially impressive to
witness a logical, sequenced development of musical ideas
over an hour or more of single-line music. If we can
believe ancient accounts, Chinese ritual and ceremonial
music employed mammoth compositional forms which
unfortunately have not survived. The longest surviving
notated pieces for qin
combine great
length with huge internal complexity, and can only have
been the result of generations of focused musicianship.
This complexity takes the form of simple patterns of
pitches, combined and varied to yield surprise and
expressive contrast; developments can take place on
multiple scales simultaneously as with a fractal. In
keeping with the extra-musical or allusive focus explained
above, these long pieces tell long stories or present
exceedingly complex poetic ideas. Examples include an
assassination narrative in 45 parts (complete with vivid
depictions of hair-raising anger and suicidal violence), a
meditation on flying swans in 36 parts, and a vision of
roaming with immortals in 20 parts. These contrast with
pieces so short they only have “one part”, but which deal
with equally expansive images. At both extremes one finds
impressive compositional pacing on the large scale, and
densely crystalline texture on the small.
And now for a word about scales and modes. I mentioned in
“Apophasis” that the Chinese palette here is puzzlingly
limited. Pentatonicity, the practice of dividing up the
octave into five pitches, is one of the most distinctive
and immediately recognizable characteristics of Chinese
music. The “standard” or anhemitonic pentatonic scale can
be modeled as CDFGA (in any transposition you please), or
by the black keys on the piano. While variations and
exceptions abound, all traditional Chinese music as
currently performed is pentatonic in basis. Combined with
the lack of developed polyphony, and the consequent
prevalence of monophonic or heterophonic texture,
pentatonicity seems to place China on a fairly low level
musically. In the West we typically associate pentatonicity
with a “sing-songy” or folksy flavor, while the standard
pentatonic scale is recognized as an exceedingly ancient
and widespread scale out of which more complex ones
developed. How is a Chinese musician to react in the face
of the 72 diatonic scales of the CM system, the
eighth-steps (that is, a quarter of a half-step) prevailing
in Turkey, not to mention the chromatic harmonies of the
West? All of these systems seem substantially richer at
rendering melodic material than a system based mainly on
the anhemitonic pentatonic scale.
There are two ways to respond in favor of Chinese music.
Firstly, its scale resources are not quite so limited as
“CDFGA”. Chinese music is in theory fully chromatic, and
modulations among pentatonic scales are frequent. In
standard Western parlance, modulation refers to the
switching among keys in a piece of music—changing the tonic
and sometimes also the key signature. In a more general
melodic context, modulation refers to switching among
scales, thereby changing the melodic content of the music.
There are two ways to modulate: (1) shifting the tonic
without changing the pitches used, and (2) changing the
pitches used, with or without shifting the tonic. As an
example of (1), from playing CDFGA with tonic C one could
shift the tonic to D and yield a totally contrasting
musical result. The anhemitonic pentatonic scale with tonic
C is “happy” as opposed to the “sad”, “angry”, or otherwise
“negative” anhemitonic pentatonic scale with tonic D. Since
there are five notes in a pentatonic scale that can act as
the tonic, there are five main “forms” of the basic scale.
As an example of (2), from playing CDFGA with tonic C one
could sharpen D to D#, or add E. In practice Chinese music
is usually uncomfortable with type (2) modulations, but it
does use them to transition between pentatonic scales. For
instance, sharpening D to D# can mean a transition between
CDFGA and CD#FGBb; it also does the modulation without
introducing any half-step transitions, which are seldom
seen in Chinese music. By shifting pentatonic scales in
this way, and by emphasizing different notes within a
single pentatonic scale so as to shift the tonal center,
Chinese music does embrace much melodic variety. If we
include ornaments, “shading” of main scalar notes,
microtonal variations, etc., the variety increases.
Another way China “gets by” on the anhemitonic pentatonic
scale is by working it with tremendous subtlety. You can
think of this by analogy with a hydraulic system. Imagine a
buildup of water pressure, which is the impulse to create
melodically sophisticated and varied music. The many scales
of non-Chinese music systems act as “outlets” for the
pressure: a lot of the interest in, say, Indian and Middle
Eastern music comes from the sheer variety of scales they
employ. In Chinese music the options are radically
restricted, with the result that a lot of effort has gone
into maximizing their use. If we tend to think of
pentatonic music as “folksy” and simple, less varied and
expressive than diatonic music, we could stand to learn
from the more sophisticated Chinese genres, including
especially qin music. The bottom line on pentatonicity is
that close study of Chinese melodies reveals a flexible and
insightful use of “reduced” musical resources. The coin is
two-sided: flexible and insightful the melodies may be, but
they’re still, after all, working with a reduced arsenal.
There is some heptatonicity written into
qin
music, usually in
older pieces (published before, say, 1600) which can even
verge on the chromatic. There is also heptatonicity in
practice—often players will add heptatonic ornaments and
teasers in a piece. Some, like Wang Huade, seem to
re-conceptualize pentatonic melodies as heptatonic ones
full of modulation (try following his “Pei Lan”), but this
practice has yet to attract much attention.
So far I’ve been talking about the ways in which Chinese
melodies combine pitches in a single line. There’s another
layer to consider, a rather esoteric one that is seldom
addressed outside of Indian music: namely, the microtonal
manipulation of pitches. (Some Middle Eastern theory allows
for defined variants of notes separated by intervals as
small as eighth-steps; I must confess I am ignorant of
exactly how this is applied, and my relative familiarity
with Indian treatments will guide my presentation here.)
Imagine two pieces in different modes but sharing the note
C. If piece 1 features a C that is slightly lower or higher
than the C in piece 2, we have microtonal manipulation
going on. The pitch is still considered to be “C” and plays
that role in its scale, but the actual frequency is
different. The reasons for this typically have to do with
the effects desired within a particular mode. Furthermore,
even within one mode, C may have its precise pitch raised
or lowered depending on context; in India (as seems always
to be the case) there are specific rules governing this.
Nothing in qin
music seems to
forbid microtonal manipulation, but I’ve never come across
any discussion of it, and thus I can’t determine whether
apparent examples in recordings are deliberate or not. Here
I’ll simply note that I regard microtonal manipulation as
an interesting and effective addition to traditional
qin
play.