Yes, it's back back back. And not 'cuz of a nice placeholder post at
SkyeSpace. Today we have a guest blogger, my composer friend Ian, who has done a VERY in-depth analysis of Skye's cover of "Wild World." And when I say VERY, I mean FIFTEEN PAGE ACADEMIC ESSAY very. We've talked about a lot of this privately, and I think this is a great place to get some of these ideas floating. What I like best about this essay is that it carries on some of the technical analysis that's happened on places like the teenpop thread. Anyway, enough of my blabbin', y'all got a ways to go.
(A note on footnotes/endnotes: All footnotes and endnotes will be placed at the end of the essay for obvious reasons. There are some great footnotes, which suffer in this format from being put all the way at the bottom of the post, but that's life, as Amy Diamond says.)
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Covering a Basis: Tactics of experiential manipulation in Skye Sweetnam’s cover of “Wild World”In popular music culture, performing original songs will gain you a certain extra level of artistic credibility, for better or worse. This same expectation is not placed upon classical music ensembles, most of which exclusively perform works not written by members of the ensemble. However, even though less such exclusivity exists among pop ensembles, the popular music idiom does permit many more possibilities in terms of re-interpreting a non-original work. A pop group may actually be more equipped to re-create a song to its full artistic potential than a classical ensemble, because further experimentation – what would be considered over-deviation in classical music – is almost what is expected of a good cover. To put it another way: fewer parameters of music must be changed in the classical tradition before the work is considered an arrangement or even a new piece. Many more parameters may be altered in the pop tradition for a song still to be considered a uniquely inspired performance of an existing work. Pop groups have more liberty to provide an answer to the question, “Why should I listen to this version instead of the original?”
In spite of this expanded freedom, it is rare that one comes across a pop cover that truly understands this opportunity and capitalizes on it. Most covers will simply change the style of a song; a more radical interpretation will re-write some harmonies, or even lyrics. But beyond these simple devices there is a whole world of possibilities to be exploited when deciding how to re-interpret a work. One of those possibilities is the idea of taking advantage of an audience’s familiarity with a previous version – and an audience’s expected reactions to that version – and using these associations to craft a cover that uses its self-referentiality to create an entirely new aesthetic experience with much of the same material. While the style- and harmony-related tactics mentioned above attempt to re-tool a song for a fresh audience, this alternative method attempts to play to the sympathies of a similar audience to that of the original, but more directly and viscerally. An innovative example of this second method is Skye Sweetnam’s cover of the Cat Stevens song “Wild World”, released in 2003 as a B-side on the single
Billy S.
The interpretation Sweetnam offers of Stevens’ 1970 hit can almost be viewed as an effectual “pop art” rendering of the original. An audience’s sense of the original song’s nuances is heightened through the intensification of musical parameters surrounding those nuances; what is revolutionary about Sweetnam’s “Wild World” is which of those parameters she intensifies and in what ways. Sweetnam’s elucidation of the experiential extremes of the original song creates a special intensity to audience members accustomed to the original, thus triggering a very familiar reaction to what these audience members had heretofore assumed was a communally-crafted experience with “Wild World” (i.e. an experience crafted due to common societal reactions to and appraisals of the song’s materials, and not a result of the music itself). Because of this illumination, Sweetnam’s cover effectively serves as a rather advanced experiential analysis of the original. On top of this, Sweetnam adds her own advanced tactics (or rather, the advanced tactics of the modern pop genres) of intensifying experiential time to further augment her version’s appeal on a level less associated with past experiences, in combination with an appeal to the “subjective set” (to be defined momentarily) of factors of musical cohesion.
A few definitions of terms are in order: Karlheinz Stockhausen defines “experiential time” in his seminal 1955 article, “Structure and Experiential Time”:
By experiential time we mean the following: when we hear a piece of music, processes of alteration follow each other at varying speeds; we have now more time to grasp alterations, now less…. In all perception we have to do only with variable alterations that have a particular structure; these various time-structures we experience qualitatively through various concepts (parameters). A repetition has the smallest degree of alteration, a wholly surprising event the greatest.[1]
Experiential time is the concept of how a given piece of music increases or decreases its grasp of an audience’s attention, either over the duration of the work or at a more local level. These local levels of experiential time are primarily what this paper will be concerned with.
Another influential thesis provides us with terms for this analysis: James Tenney’s
META (+) HODOS. Tenney presents an overview, adopted from Gestalt theory, of factors that may be manipulated to affect how local units (i.e. moments, motifs, or ideas) of music cohere or segregate. These include proximity, similarity, intensity, repetition, objective set and subjective set. Tenney defines the latter two terms with the following passage:
Objective set will refer to expectations or anticipations arising during a musical experience which are produced by prior events occurring within the same piece, while subjective set would refer to expectations or anticipations which are the result of experiences previous to those that are occasioned by the particular piece of music now being considered.[2]
To rephrase: “Objective set” refers to expectations generated by one’s experience with the current performance of the piece itself; “subjective set” refers to expectations generated by an audience’s experiences, musical or otherwise, prior to hearing the piece. It is, obviously, “subjective set” that we will be most concerned with here. The following analysis assumes that the audience discussed has enough experience with Stevens’ original version to make the described subconscious connections.[3]
Perhaps the most basic differences between the two versions of “Wild World” are also personified by the basic differences between the over-arching styles of the two artists: the laid-back, peace-movement-influenced crooning of Stevens against the [girl]power-driven vocals and beats of Sweetnam. It is in examining this disparity that the most fundamental liberties in Sweetnam’s version become apparent: first, the accelerated tempo and intensified key, and second, the way the pulse is constructed, both rhythmically and texturally (the question of the construction of the pulse has severe experiential connotations).
In addressing the former consideration, we find that Sweetnam’s cover proceeds at about 1.12 times the tempo of the original. The audience is thrust immediately into a faster rate of absorption than it expects from the Stevens “Wild World”; Sweetnam has intensified one parameter of the music so as to give the illusion that time is passing more quickly than in the original. This is confirmed if we assume that since it is (in terms of basic material) the same song, the same amount of information will be transmitted (as we will later discover, Sweetnam actually transmits a fair amount more information). Stockhausen explains this concept:
The greater the temporal density of unexpected alteration – the information content – the more time we need to grasp events, and the less time we have for reflection, the quicker time passes; the lower the effective density of alteration…, the less time the senses need to react, so that greater intervals of experiential time lie between the processes, and the slower time passes.[4][5]
An equal amount of information being experienced in a shortened time-frame will, by this definition, lead to the effective acceleration of time. This effect is strengthened by the anticipation of the expected amount of information (as well as what is expected to be the tempo) in the subjective set.
The subject of key is also in play, albeit with a much smaller effect. Stevens’ original version is performed in the key of A minor, while Sweetnam presents the song four semitones higher, in C-sharp minor. The general intensity of pitch increases to the upward direction, and the change of a major third found here is a substantial intensification of the key. Its effect on an audience and on the subjective set, however, is less substantial. It affects those with excellent pitch memory that can notice the difference between the keys upon hearing Sweetnam’s cover, and it also affects those who may be listening to the two versions consecutively. This effect, however, is lost within seconds as one reorients to the key of the current version. The first few bars of the cover do provide a contrast that intensifies the material for the audience, but this contrast is not nearly as significant nor as enduring as the tempo modification, for while one may also become oriented to the tempo, this does not slow the experiential pace of information until much later in the song, far later than the point at which the effect of the new key has been lost.[6]
It is in the construction of the pulse that we find Sweetnam more acutely toying with Stockhausen’s “density of alteration”. In the original version, the pulse finds virtually no significant accentuation; there is simply Stevens’ guitar strumming at a somewhat uniform intensity level throughout the verse. While the percussive strumming sounds do occur in places that accentuate the beat, the accentuation is quite low-key, reflecting the overall style of the song. If one were to imagine a graph of the intensity of the accompaniment over time, we would see few “peaks” in the Stevens version; it would be more of a straight line. What Sweetnam offers is a re-interpretation of the pulse and beat structure that simultaneously achieves two seemingly disparate aims. The accompaniment in each bar is based upon driving towards beats two and four (a familiar convention of the rock genre) through an increase of the audience’s sense of anticipation of those beats.[7] But what is simultaneously being executed if we look deeper into the texture is a sixteenth-note subdivision of the pulse, which constantly drives the attention of the listener forward. The effect gained by this dichotomy is similar to that of a passenger on a moving motorboat viewing evenly spaced events along the land; the passenger’s focus is drawn to each individual event, but the boat’s course keeps him from dwelling and constantly drives him towards his next point of interest.
More specifically: The most obvious factors that draw attention to beats two and four are: 1) the actual accents on those beats created by the handclaps and bass drum, and 2) the “reverse cymbal” effect whose intensity constantly rises towards each respective beat in terms of both dynamic (volume) and sound-complexity (since it is a reversal of an actual cymbal hit, the further along in the sound it goes, the further it leads towards the most reverberations in the sound). This cymbal effect deserves most of the credit for the audience’s heightened sense of anticipation. The aforementioned sixteenth-note meter is created by a combination of the guitar strumming (in, obviously, a much more regular pattern than in the original Stevens) and the occasional repeated bass note in the same rhythm. Of the eight sixteenth-notes required for two beats, seven are actually articulated: the first five leading to and landing on beat two, and the final two before beat three, which are only articulated by a pitchless strumming of the guitar. Though only one sixteenth-note is omitted, the effect is considerable: a discontinuation of the ongoing subdivision at that precise moment draws attention back to the last significant event, in this case beat two or four. While seven out of the eight notes are enough to make the listener cognizant of the continuing subdivision (i.e. enough to “keep the boat moving”), the one small omission directs attention backwards significantly (enough to “focus on shore”). Also significantly adding to this effect is the sudden dropout of the surrounding instrumental texture for three to four sixteenth notes.
This is the first clear example of Sweetnam using her cover as an analysis. Where Stevens’s accompaniment diminishes the effect of the pulse, Sweetnam’s amplifies it,
providing the audience up front with a reaction they may have had subconsciously to the original. Her transparent presentation of the effect of the pulse excites a listener that remembers it as a personal intuitive perception from a past experience with the old version. The lack of an articulated subdivision immediately after beats two and four, this “dropping off a cliff” feeling the listener has for a split second, also harkens to (and is consciously reminiscent of) another section of the song: the refrain, which provides Sweetnam with her greatest opportunity to capitalize on the subjective set. The refrain of “Wild World” is (as it is with most pop songs) the most well-known, most quoted section of the original song. Stevens crafts it effectively: a simple, catchy opening line and melody (on “Oo, baby, baby it’s a wild world”), followed by the first independent melodic instrumental line of the song – the descending guitar figure, the most driving force yet encountered, which leads heavily towards the downbeat of the following bar. That downbeat, however, is not as emphasized as beat two, creating an excellent sense of anticipation (as described earlier) for the duration of beat one. Sweetnam’s cognizance of the significant nature of these ideas (in comparison with the rest of the song) is readily apparent in her experiential re-interpretation of them.
When one is privately recalling a favorite, enjoyed, or even loathed song through singing it to oneself, the instrumental and vocal parts are(at least audibly) replaced by a monophonic line; certain lesser factors are omitted as a result of necessity, preference, or memory (or lack thereof). Sweetnam’s treatment of the refrain exploits this idea in order to provide her audience with a more personal rendition by emphasizing these most “remembered” aspects of the work; she highlights the parts the listener is most likely to remember (and therefore sing to him/herself) and presents them in full orchestration. She begins, on one level, with the general heightening of energy of the refrain, much as Stevens does in his version. Where Stevens adds a drum set and a slightly more involved guitar part, Sweetnam offers a general increase in volume, a more driving percussion section (the sixteenth-note meter is now unbroken in the drum set, and on a more reverberation-able cymbal) and a double-tracked, harmonized vocal part.[8]
I would argue that two most significant and famous ideas (or, as Tenney would call them, “clangs”[9]) in the original refrain are the aforementioned descending guitar line and the emphasized beat two that immediately follows. Sweetnam places a special emphasis on these factors that is not found (to this degree) in the original Stevens version. The descending guitar line is vocalized by Sweetnam with “na na nas”, and harmonized in thirds. This is similar to the previously mentioned double-tracked vocals on the lyrics throughout the refrain. The actual vocalization of the guitar line relates it immediately to the subjective set of an acquainted audience (the use of a familiar onomatopoeia aids this cause), while the added harmonization (in essence an orchestration of a direct appeal to the subjective set) ratchets the parametric intensity of the figure to a very exciting point. The aspect of experientialism is considerably enhanced through these two techniques: a direct appeal to the subjective set, and an intensification that propels that appeal.
It is in re-interpreting the second of the previously mentioned significant ideas of the refrain, the emphasized beat two after the guitar line, that Sweetnam crafts her most skillful empirical exposition. On the first refrain of the original, and in the first phrase of each following refrain, Stevens places a bass note on beat one of the measure in question, giving the guitar line from the previous bar a tangible and audible destination. On the second phrase in later instances of the refrain, Stevens removes this note, further emphasizing beat two by adding a level of anticipation that directs attention towards the next substantial musical event (it does not direct attention backwards, as Sweetnam’s earlier discussed omission of one subdivision note in the verse, since the guitar line has more of a leading quality and is not locally powerful enough to command attention from such an omission). This may very well be the single most distinctive aspect about “Wild World”, no matter which version is discussed. Sweetnam takes this de-emphasized beat to the next level, placing it on every instance of the refrain, and putting more emphasis on beat two by adding a guitar pickup figure slightly beforehand, along with a very audible drawn breath to prepare for the following lyrics. This appeals to the subjective set in a different way; not so much capitalizing on an audience’s familiarity with the song, but capitalizing on the general association of drawn breath with anticipation. She is again taking a musical idea that Stevens at first hinted at and later emphasized subtly, and altering it so as to become the main focus of attention, not only at its instance in the refrain, but as a sort of Grundgestalt[10] throughout the cover (its magnification in the breakdown [bridge] section will be discussed later on).
In her re-interpretation of the descending guitar line and the de-emphasized beat that follows, Sweetnam is again musically providing experiential analysis of the original work. Her combined subjective presentation and parametric intensification of the guitar line exploit her audience’s experiential history with the work, as does her emphasis of the previously comparatively understated de-emphasized beat. A low-level experiential analysis of Sweetnam’s cover would in effect mirror a deeper-level analysis of the original. To simplify, Sweetnam takes the subtle things from Stevens’ version and turns them into blatant things in her own, but her selection of which factors to emphasize and in just what way to accomplish that emphasis shows a sophisticated understanding of musicological factors of listening.
It is, however, in this superb appeal to the subjective set that Sweetnam falters somewhat in her handling of the objective set. Stevens crafts a progressive presentation of this de-emphasized beat idea: In the first refrain there is no de-emphasized beat, in the second refrain (second phrase) he removes the bass note and leaves only a soft cymbal strike on the downbeat, and in the third and fourth refrains he removes the cymbal, and the only articulated force that drives to the second beat is his guttural “and I” before the band comes in again. As he provides less and less articulation of beat one, more and more anticipation of beat two is palpable. Sweetnam, however, does not vary in any refrain or any phrase how she handles this de-emphasized beat. As a result, the element of surprise and anticipation (and consequently the degree of alteration) decreases with each passing refrain. While Sweetnam expertly re-interpreted this idea, she could have done much more to cultivate it within the context of her version in order to engross a listener even further. The aspect of experientialism, aided by further development, could have achieved a series of new, more exciting levels.
Other, lesser ways in which Sweetnam appeals to the subjective set include the following: firstly, her vocal style, with its (far) greater degree of pitch fluctuation and vocal inflection than Stevens’, creates an increase in energy that pervades the entire song. It is true that this is more indicative of Sweetnam’s genre than of a conscious decision, but the effect remains nonetheless.
Secondly, the melodic aspect of the IV-V progression in the minor key of the verse that ends the refrain is doubled at the octave. Stevens merely places more weight on the bass notes; Sweetnam’s accentuation of this figure has more presence to an audience, and adds drive to what is already an encapsulating gesture.
Thirdly, there is the issue of the ending of Sweetnam’s version. Stevens ends with the final words in the refrain (“child, girl”) and lets the decay of the last instrumental notes fade, offering a sense of closure in the diminishing sound. Sweetnam’s ends much more abruptly; after “child, girl” (of which “girl” is only sung by the harmony track) there is nothing. It can be argued that this is not an appeal to the subjective set, but I would go farther and argue that it is simply an ineffective one, and an ineffective ending altogether. While one may say that it provides a bookend to a song that began as abruptly, I believe that while the beginning is sudden, it still contains a strong introductory element (and lasts a full measure). Sweetnam’s cover ends no differently than any of the refrains in her version, and leaves the audience with an almost total lack of closure, especially considering the lack of fulfillment of the phrase. This is another area where more development of materials found in the objective set would have better served the purpose Sweetnam desired, no matter what that purpose was.
Fourthly, Sweetnam fashions another excellent inducement of the subjective set by using phrase ambiguities in select areas of the cover. After the eight drum hits that begin the piece, the structure follows that of Stevens’. Sweetnam replaces Stevens’ opening “la la las” with “fa la las” , using the sense of force created by the articulation of an “F” sound to drive the phrase forward. Stevens begins with two phrases of this idea, ending each on the downbeat of a bar. In Sweetnam’s interpretation, she enacts the same structure, while simultaneously beginning a second identical phrase offset by a beat so that it ends on beat two of the final measure, one beat after the first phrase. Not only does this ambiguity shake the expectation of a listener and therefore increase the sense of anticipation, it also foreshadows the emphasis of beat two that will become so important in later sections of the song.
The entire introductory section is also comprised of material that foreshadows the breakdown/bridge that follows the second verse. What is particularly interesting about this breakdown is that it puts to use both the subjective
and objective sets toward a common goal. The breakdown uses the aforementioned phrase ambiguity in much the same way that the introduction does, only in this instance it does not wait for the second phrase to introduce the offset portion; the ambiguity is ubiquitous and more integral to the structure. It also expands the idea of a de-emphasized beat, dropping accompanimental figures on beats two, three and four in the first two bars, essentially magnifying the de-emphasized beat idea. This, at first, appears to be purely a utilization of the objective set, taking a prevalent idea from the song’s refrain (and, to a lesser extent, introduction) and expanding upon it in a developmental section. Considering, however, that the very idea of this de-emphasized beat is highly dependent on and totally avails itself of the subjective set, this factor cannot be ignored in discussing the effectiveness of this section of the work. On a surface level, it is the objective set that makes the breakdown so successful, but the factors used objectively are wholly influenced by previous decisions that appeal to an audience’s prior prejudices.
This extraordinary approach to covering songs merits further discussion. Sweetnam has used tactics that, if pursued in more detail by other artists, could offer an entirely new way of thinking about re-interpreting songs with which the general public is familiar, and about re-shaping a listener’s reaction not only to his or her favorite music, but to his or her self. This can be, as Sweetnam has demonstrated, accomplished through careful thought or analysis of just what about the energies of an original song gratifies an audience, and crafting of the local energies of a cover to compellingly draw attention to those subtle fluctuations (or, in an interesting twist, attempt to break down or work against the experiential cycles of the original!). Compared to the original, Sweetnam’s “Wild World” is the next level; a sort of “rate of rate of change” graph of Stevens’ experiential patterns. Were Sweetnam to have pushed her empirical scrutiny to an even higher degree, the effect on an audience could be stunning, although the actual music, becoming more and more stretched by these sophisticated parametric alterations, might become so disparate from the original as to limit the number of listeners that would actually take the time to comprehend these new levels. To reconcile this consideration would be a balance that only a truly thoughtful and experienced musician could achieve, but such an accomplishment could provide a very clear window into the future of popular music.
NOTES:
[1]Stockhausen, Karlheinz. “Structure and Experiential Time.” Die Reihe 2 (1955): 64-74.
[2] Tenney, James. “META (+) HODOS: A Phenomenology of Twentieth-Century Musical Materials and an Approach to the Study of Form.” New Orleans: Inter-American Institute for Musical Research, 1964.
[3] I realize the apparent cultural disparity between the genre of music I am analyzing and the intensely academic theories I am using to analyze it. I believe that a) it is perfectly logical and fruitful to apply Stockhausen’s and Tenney’s theories on music to the popular genre, and b) that these ideas are not too obscure for a pop audience generally unfamiliar with musical academia to grasp. While it is certainly true that, in general, pop artists are not concerned (at least consciously) with the tactics I am describing, the same could certainly be said for many of the composers analyzed by such theorists as Stockhausen and Tenney. A musical outcome does not necessarily reflect the artist’s intention, and vice versa. Regardless, theorists dealing with audience perception must be primarily concerned with the outcome.
[4]See note [1].
[5]A slightly different but no less compelling discussion of these issues can be found in Gerard Grisey’s article “Tempus ex Machina”. (Grisey, Gerard. “Tempus ex Machina: A composer’s reflections on musical time.”
Contemporary Music Review 2 (1987): 239-275.)
[6] Here might be well placed a mention of the literal opening bars of the song: eight accented snare and bass drum eighth-notes followed immediately and abruptly by the “actual” introduction. This acts, marvelously, as a simultaneous obfuscator and de-obfuscator of the principles above: a de-obfuscator in that it presents, in its most basic form, the tempo of the song, “priming” the audience for what should be expected, and an obfuscator in that it is such an obscure, startling introduction when compared to the Stevens version that any “priming” effect it may have had is assuredly lost to its peculiarity; it may even leave the listener less prepared to accept the new tempo than had it been omitted.
[7]Along with heightened anticipation comes both a level of expectation and a level of anticipation of whether that expectation will be fulfilled, along with (to a smaller extent) both levels of this second anticipation, along with both levels of this third anticipation, and so forth. This layering of anticipations has an accelerating effect on experiential time; time seems to go faster.
[8] It is significant that the refrain is the only part of the song (excluding the climactic final verse) that is harmonized; as the part of the original piece most likely be mimicked by the audience, its parametric intensity is increased in the vocal part (with a more involved harmony) in order to further evoke that aspect of experientialism.
[9] See note [2], p. 13.
[10] Grundgestalt: “Fundamental concept underlying a musical work, the features of which influence and determine specific ideas within the work itself.”
(Epstein, David.
Beyond Orpheus: Studies in Musical Structure. Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1979.)
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