Chant, as the modern world knows it, is a rather easy thing--you drone a bunch of words on a note and blah-dee-blah. Contrary to popular belief, chant is not a slow, monotonous thing that goes on forever and ever in endless boredom.
Let's start with a bit of history, shall we?
Gregorian Chant is named after Pope Gregory the Great. The actual date of invention is unknown, as some people do not ascribe Gregorian Chant to Pope Gregory at all, but with quite an amount of evidence for it, it seems unlikely that Gregorian Chant was composed by anyone other than Pope Gregory.
Chant divided into eight modes, two of which brought forth the notion of major and minor scales. The eight-tone scale we use today is based upon a different principle than chant, which is based upon a six-note pattern called a hexachord. The main notes in a hexachord are the "dominant" and "final", and depending on where the final falls in the sequence the mode can be called authentic or plagal (giving rise to a "plagal cadence"--also called the Amen Cadence for the very simple reason that it is used as an Amen frequently!).
Gregorian chant is notated most authentically in neumes, which fall upon a four-line staff with a small clef symbol notating 'do' (or 'ut'). Neumes differ from modern notes in that there is no 'half note' or 'whole note', or quarter or so on (in addition to the detail that neumes are square, instead of round). Here is a good guide for reading chant notation especially if you have no prior experience in reading chant.
Singing chant itself takes a great deal of discipline, and far more patience than one would expect. Long lines with very little time to breathe are common (we here see the roots of coloratura), and patience is necessary--most human beings need to look at chant quite intensively before they can sing it properly.
To sing chant in a stylistically correct manner, a few things are necessary. Straight-tone is preferable, but if vibrato cannot be restrained entirely then at least a minimal amount of vibrato. Singing in a bold manner--that is, with strength without being garish--is also good when one does not have a choir of five hundred monks. One's feet out to be at least shoulder width, and speaking of shoulders, when one breathes one's shoulders should not move. Not only does it look funny, it's fairly wrong as well. Most people naturally breathe upward--that is, their chest raises up when they inhale, and their shoulders move with them. When singing, one needs to breathe outward with one's stomach (not one's anatomical stomach, but the general lower abdomen area!).
Perhaps more important than breathing in chant is knowing what one is doing. That is--when you sing chant, you are singing for God. All personal gain must be thrust aside, and you cannot think of your own vocal production for the sake of it being your own vocal production. Thinking of how you sound to try to sound as beautiful as you can for God--that is admirable. But thinking about how you sound so that your Aunt Dolly will compliment you is not right. The primary goal of Gregorian Chant is to give glory to God, as all sacred music ought.
Therefore, do not sing chant for your own glory. Do not try to sound like a fabulous famous singer with the voice that gets praising reviews in the New York Times.
Sing with love, for you are singing for God.
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Wednesday, August 27, 2008
On Singing Chant
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4 comments:
I LOVE chant, Baby!
And I enjoyed this exposition, Celestine.
As do I :)
Is exposition the right word? Hum. A debate for another time.
O Great Holder of the Keys to the Choir-Loft and Controller of the music Therein--canst we humble choirpeople sing a chant ordinarily used in the Requiem Mass for the mere sake of singing it?
Exposition: a systematic interpretation or explanation (usually written) of a specific topic.
So I would say that I used it correctly.
To answer your question, if I were truly the Key Holder and Controller -- then maybe. But if I push my luck, I may be replaced by a six-string strummer. Or an accordian player. Or a grand-student of Schoenberg.
I take offense! I am a six-string-strummer and I play only the finest pieces from some of the finest composers in the world! How can you not love the tender, haunting melodies of Webern, Berg, Schoenberg, Bartok and Stravinsky?
Humbug, madame! Humbug!
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