If Ramanaa demonstrates the creative process behind spontaneous composition, Kannakku represents the more usual progression of a composition – hard work, multiple drafts and rewrites. Where Ramanaa emerged fully-formed, Kannakku has yet to settle.
Kannakku means ‘calculations’ (if you pronounce it incorrectly means ‘nothing’).
The main theme came from an earlier composition exercise, which never made it to performance:
It contains some features which make it interesting for Carnatic percussionists, who often follow the rhythmic accents of a melody. The second two bars would seem an obvious place for a percussionist to double the melodic rhythm. A first examination would label the groups as 4 (2) 3 (2) 5, but it could also be considered a variation on the standard (1) 5 5 5 – with the first two groups of five played as 3+2, the last as 2+3. This is further reinforced by the note choices – the F# has already been established as a strong note in the previous bar.
The first two bars could also be treated in a similar fashion, the F# being treated as a false downbeat, creating a feeling of 5/4 followed by 3/4 for the first two bars. For example (syllables equal quavers):
Dha , ki ta Dhi , ki ta Dhom ,
Dha , ki ta Dha ge
While this seems like a subtle deception, it is often the case that unusual phrasing of larger units is more disorienting that smaller units. Coupled with the treatment of the second 2 bars we now have an interesting rhythmic phrase:
Dha , ki ta Dhi , ki ta Dhom ,
Dha , ki ta Dha ge
dhom Tha ki ta Dhom , Ta ki ta Dhom , Dhom , Ta ki ta :||
Carnatic percussionists will accent a melody to varying degrees. Often senior players walk a fine line between maintaining the thalam and ornamenting the composition. One of my favourite examples of this is on Bhavalu/Impressions (Palghat Raghu, 1970). I have also heard some remarkable accompaniment by Sri Umayalpuram K Sivaraman.
The ‘B’ theme also came from a much earlier work, an exploration of the raga Hamsadhwani (D, E, F#, A, C#) which is a subset of the raga used for the rest of the composition (D, E, F#, G, A, Bb, C#):
This was one of several composition exercises that I wrote to explore the raga Hamsadhwani, a simple but fascinating ragam, and adi thalam (8 beat cycles) although for convenience this is here notated in 4/4. The first line introduces a new theme that climbs toward the upper tonic. All of the durations in the first 3 bars are 3 quavers long. Patterns of 3+3+2 are prevalent in western and Indian classical music. On first listening the example seems to be falling into this common pattern – the repetition of the F# even reaffirms this idea, until it appears to go on for too long. The listener finds themselves swimming without a reference point in the third bar. When a reference is finally provided in bar 4 (leading tone resolving to tonic) it too, is a deception. The overwhelming impression is that we have lost a beat somewhere. This is due to a technique that I have noted in many Carnatic krithis, where the listener is deceived into thinking the beat is somewhere else by a progression from leading note to tonic, or from the 5th degree to the tonic at a place other than samam (beat one). For example, in Maha Ganapathim (Dikshitar), where the tonic is consistently played on the offbeat to beat 5 (the ‘&’ of beat 5). When the percussion instruments are accenting the tonic, the effect is enhanced further.
These 2 sections form the basic construction of the piece. The two sections are developed in uneven proportions – the first section becomes the basis for improvisation of various kinds, which takes up the majority of the work before the ‘B’ section concludes the piece. [This idea comes from my experience with Sth Mada St (Carnatic Jazz Experiment concert 1) wherein Rajyashree introduced me to the idea that Carnatic improvisation could occur after any of the three sections of a krithi.] Some improvisations are pre-conceived (composed), such as the introduction which treats the ragam as the basis for some slow moving harmonies. Some are improvised, including the alap which comes at the 1/3 point of the piece. Some sound more jazzlike than others, such as the guitar and double bass trading which occurs towards the end, which is based on a chord progression developed from the harmony. The overall effect was supposed to be that the composer and improvisers were exploring the ragam in various ways, but this was only partially successful, the overall effect more closely representing collage. This may be improved in future versions by having the various sections emerge out of a larger exploration of the drone, a new texture gradually taking shape from the sea of pitches before becoming submerged again.
Kannakku was a commission* which means that there are extra pressures when composing. It is difficult not to consider that the person funding the commission needs to get their moneys worth (whatever that means), or that the audience will be scrutinising the piece more closely (see My Compositional Process). I decided that the commission piece would be ‘a substantial work’, both in duration and conception. Because of the amount of research I had done, I already had several ideas for the composition before I had started:
> use musical analogues of kriya (hand gestures that keep the thalam)
> plan a form that integrates the tani (percussion solo) into the flow of the composition
> plan a form that includes an alap (unmeasured improvisation) at a useful spot, but not at the start
> develop a harmonic system that embraces the drone (rather than designing a harmony that has to fit in with a drone)
> write some interesting kannakku’s that are extensions of Carnatic rhythmic structures.
*commissioned by Jazz Queensland with financial support from the Queensland Government under the Q150 Community Funding Program.
The harmonic system was developed from an invented ragam (D, E, F#,G, A, Bb, C#), with some special phrases that could be played that introduced a C natural. This is fairly consistent with Carnatic practice. I treated the ragam as a basis for developing harmonies, mostly tertial and quartal. The ragam can be considered as a harmonic major scale but is also contains five notes from a whole-tone scale on D, once the C natural is included (D, E, F#, Bb, C). It contains a Major tonic triad and, because of the minor quality of the upper tetrachord, a 1/2 diminished ii chord and a V7b9 dominant. The most effective treatment of the harmonies however, is when the are explored rather than developed, in the same way a Carnatic melody explores all of the expressive potential of a ragam, for example in the introduction where chords are treated colouristically. The least effective use of harmonies is possibly the guitar and double-bass trading solo where triadic harmonies are used for a quasi-jazz effect. It may be that the resemblance to a standard jazz progression is too close at this point.
A mentioned earlier the alap, an unmeasured and unaccompanied exploration of the ragam, is placed at the approximate 1/3 point of the piece. In Carnatic music, the alap is used to introduce the key phrases and pitches of a ragam before the composition begins, and therefore always occurs before a composition. For some time I had considered the idea of putting the alap at a different point in a composition and during the composition of kannakku this point suggested itself. It occurs after a composed chordal introduction, a statement of the ‘A’ section melody (above) and a violin solo. The momentum is built through these sections and then there is a release when the alap begins, and measured time is temporarily suspended. The alap itself also shows another interesting contrast between jazz and Carnatic approaches, and becomes a point at which the traditions can blend seamlessly. It relies on a simple instruction: the guitar begins by playing a quasi-carnatic alap, the other melody instruments join in and things gradually become more like free improvisation. The instruction relies on Carnatic and jazz having a different understanding of what ‘free improvisation’ is. In the resulting improvisation, you can hear the gradual shift from a Carnatic exploration of swaras to a more textural, gestural approach.
Listen:
There were several rhythmic ideas that I wanted to incorporate in Kannakku:
> korvais that are played in two speeds (ie, in quavers then in triplets),
> a korvai that included yatis on several different organisational levels,
> a tani avarttanam that is built into the structure of the work.
(see Glossary for definitions)
Korvais that are played in several speeds require a number of calculations. If we wish to design a normal, single-speed korvai we simply need to make sure the number of matras (subdivisions) in the korvai is equal to the number of matras in the thalam (rhythmic cycle). For example, if we are in Adi Thalam (8 beats), chatusra nadai (semiquaver subdivision) we should compose a korvai with 32 matras. A simple korvai could be 3 3 3 3 3 5 (1) 5 (1) 5, which has two sections and takes up 32 matras (one cycle of Adi thalam). If we wish to design a korvai that lasts for more than one cycle of Adi thalam we should ensure that it has 64,96, or 128 matras (for the korvai to last for 2, 3 or 4 cycles).
If we wish to design a korvai that can be played in two speeds we need to compose a korvai that has a total number of matras that will suit both nadais (subdivisions). For example, if we wish to play a korvai in chatusram and tisram (semiquavers and triplets) in Adi Thalam, we need to consider the total number of matras in that cycle.
In Chatusram, the number of matras in a cycle or cycles is: 32, 64,96, 128, 160, 192, 224, 256, 288, etc.
In Tisram, the number of matras in a cycle or cycles is: 24, 48, 72, 96, 120, 144, 168, 192, 216, 240, etc.
In Khandam, the number of matras in a cycle or cycles is: 40, 80, 120, 160, 200, 240, 280, etc.
From this, we can see that korvais of the following number of matras, will fit more than one subdivision: 96, 120, and 160 and 240. If we write a korvai that has 96 matras it will fit into 3 cycles of Adi Thalam at chatusra nadai and 4 cycles of Adi Thalam in tisra nadai. The number of korvais that are 96 matras long, are in fact quite high, reflecting the fact that many players play 2-speed korvais, but also the economy of Carnatic learning – why not learn a korvai that you can use in several situations? A korvai with 96 matras, can be played Adi thalam in either chatusram and tisram, or, it can also be played in Rupaka thalam (3/4).
In the preparation for kannakku, a calculation was done for a korvai that could be played in tisram, chatusram and khandam (quintuplets) but this was found to be too long for the composition. The korvai must be 480 matras (taking up 15 cycles at chatusram, 20 cycles at tisram, and 12 cycles at khandam). I will post this korvai soon.
Here is an example of a korvai in two speeds (Kannakku, mm. x-x):
EX.
A Carnatic tani avarttanam usually features improvisation in several nadais (subdivisions). I chose to write an introduction to the first improvisation in chatusra nadai and then a 2-speed korvai that would finish in tisram, announcing the beginning of the tisram section of the tani. The linking passage between the two sections of the tani became one of the most important sections of the work, as well as the most difficult section to perform.
It takes the form of a korvai, the first section of which is a yati, the second of which is a simple mora: 555 4 555 4 555. While the first section builds on the concepts I had encountered in Carnatic rhythm, I had not seen precisely this construction before [although since then I have seen similar examples of ‘nested yatis’]. The korvai is as follows: (see Guide to Solkattu Notation)
A section
Tha , , , , , , ki , , , , , , ta , , , , , ,
Tha , , , , , ki , , , , , ta , , , , ,
Tha , , , , ki , , , , ta , , , ,
Tha , , , ki , , , ta , , ,
Tha , , ki , , ta , ,
Dhum ,
Tha , , , , , ka , , , , , di , , , , , mi , , , , ,
Tha , , , , ka , , , , di , , , , mi , , , ,
Tha , , , ka, , , di , , , mi , , ,
Tha , , ka , , di , , mi , ,
Tha , ka , di , mi ,
Dhum ,
Tha , , , , ding , , , , gi , , , , na , , , , thom , , , ,
Tha , , , ding , , , gi , , , na , , , thom , , ,
Tha , , ding , , gi , , na , , thom , ,
Tha , ding , gi , na , thom ,
B section
Tha di gi na thom Tha di gi na thom Tha di gi na thom
Dhaa , ge Dhaa , ge
Tha di gi na thom Tha di gi na thom Tha di gi na thom
Dhaa , ge Dhaa , ge
Tha di gi na thom Tha di gi na thom Tha di gi na thom || (Dha)
The ‘A’ section of the korvai contains yatis (expanding or contracting phrases) on several different organisational levels. The ‘A’ section of the korvai has three parts, the first of which is based on the phrase ‘Thakita’ (3 matras), the second on the phrase ‘Thakadimi’ (4), and the third on the phrase ‘Thadinginathom’ (5). This expansion of phrase length is called a srothavaya yati (see Glossary). Within each of these sub-sections however, we see that the phrase itself follows a process of contraction – each syllable becoming shorter with each reiteration (in this first line, each syllable of the ‘Tha ki ta’ is 7 matras long, in the second line each syllable is 6 matras long). This contracting process is called a cowputcha yati. The sub-sections also contract one step further towards a single-matra-per-syllable iteration, finally heard at the start of the B section, where the phrase Tadinginathom has become the basis of the a Mora. At this point there is a blurring between the sections, which is common in Carnatic practice – the contraction process of the first section reaches it’s logical conclusion at ‘Tha di gi na thom’, which is also the first phrase of the ‘B’ section.
The same korvai in numbers:
A section:
777
666
555
444
333
(2)
6666
5555
4444
3333
2222
(2)
55555
44444
33333
22222
11111
B section:
555 (33) 555 (33) 555
We can note here the difficulty of expressing such a korvai in numbers. While illuminating on a structural level, the numbers do not show the way in which the phrases are articulated, or the elision of the phrase Tha di gi na thom at the end of the ‘A’ section and the start of the ‘B’ section. This numerical representation however, corresponds closely to the approach taken by Tunji Beier, who can be heard reciting the solkattu for the phrase.
listen:
=======================
Raghu, P. (1970). Bhavalu/Impressions. [LP]. New York: Nonesuch.
The influence of Carnatic music on my composition and improvisation practice (2008-09).
As I continued to write for Babel, the compositions became more ambitious (such as the extended work Able and later work Trout bout) incorporating techniques learned from western art music. As my studies turned to Indian music concepts, the compositions for Babel began to incorporate concepts from Indian classical music. In many ways, Fat Lip 81 (2000), can be considered the first piece of my current research trajectory.
I started a new group: The Toby Wren Trio (putting my name in the title either indicates that I was sick of fancy titles or that I felt like the new group was more ‘me’). The Toby Wren Trio began by playing jazz standards with loose arrangements. The initial focus was on group interaction, gesture and high contrast. The original music I wrote during this time is a continuation of the mainstream jazz tradition. It was an important step for me to develop a compositional and improvisational approach that was less prescriptive than the music I had been writing for Babel and for orchestra. That is, like a jazz standard, the music I wrote had skeletal melodies and chord changes that could be interpreted by the members of the group in any way they saw fit.
My output of this period is neatly summarised by the album Umlaut (2006). While Umlaut can be considered a mainstream jazz release and in many ways consciously avoids the complexity of my works for orchestra and babel, there are unavoidable traces of my previous interests. There had been a shift, however, from writing intricate rhythms, to simply creating a situation where complex rhythms could occur, and choosing players who could respond to them.
Carnatic Jazz Experiment - Site Moved: www.carnaticjazzexperiment.com 