Greetings Fellow Navigators of Small Day Length!
The Fifteenth song of the Plant Songs series is called Albedo. Albedo is a term for light reflecting off of a surface, often used in reference to sunlight reflecting off of snow-covered ground. Snow cover on a sunny day greatly amplifies the brightness. Scientists have measured it. The lack of albedo in a Hudson Valley Winter is quite challenging for this Minnesota boy, who was used to more or less constant snow cover from December through March. I think I might remember just one brown Christmas from those days. I miss Minnesota winter, which reliably offered regular sledding, skating, cross country skiing, ice fishing, etc. I took it for granted. Living in Beacon, I jump at any chance for those winter activities. When it snows in the evening I get my skis out and go around the block a few times before the plow comes through, if I can beat it. When Winter Park at Fahnestock State Park opens (every two or three years when the conditions warrant it), I’m sure to take advantage.
However, I’ve enjoyed some snow cover in recent weeks up on Mount Beacon. My hiking practice keeps surprising me with new joys. Last Friday I had a little extra time, and made my way up to the Fire Monument on the north peak of Mount Beacon at 1526 feet above sea level. There was still about 4 inches of snow up there, while there was none back at home, at a 230 or so feet above sea level. The sun was shining beautifully. And oh did I take it in. It was cold that morning. Lovely cold on my face, bright sun reflecting off of the snow, and views of Lamb Hill and the valley below. Yea for photons!
The view looking north from the north summit of Mount Beacon on December 6, 2024.
Mount Beacon Reservoir on December 6, 2024.
I’d like to discuss some theoretical elements of this song. The idea for the song was discovered through in improvisation that was similar to what became the introduction of Albedo. I began to write some melody phrases, and remembered an interesting concept that I had recently happened upon with one of my composition students at SUNY New Paltz. It’s the idea of adding a note or two to a common scale. I thought it would make for some interesting melodic shapes and sounds. Some music that has inspired this sound out of me recently includes Ginastera’s Danzas Creoles, as well as the music of Ravi Shankar and Tigran Hamasyan - music that has surprising melodic choices.
In Albedo I used a B-flat natural minor scale, but added the major seventh (A natural) and the augmented fourth (E natural). The result is a scale with the following pitches [Bb C Db Eb E F Gb Ab A]. Minor scales have traditionally been altered by composers to create harmonic and melodic tension and beauty. But it usually would involve moving one of the notes (e.g. moving the minor seventh up a half step to the major seventh to create a harmonic minor scale) rather than adding additional notes - at least that’s the way I’ve understood it. But when I ADD the E natural and A natural to the Bb minor scale and consider all the notes part of the scale together, it’s really fun to see what possibilities that creates melodically and especially harmonically. In that case, all the chords of this song are diatonic (naturally occurring in the scale) including all the chords of the B section. Some interesting chords emerge, particularly the Amajor7. That’s a fun sound to play around with in a B-flat minor song.
It’s interesting to me to think about simplicity vs. complexity in regard to melody. The pop music of today has such simple and repetitive melodies. It’s nice. It gets you hooked quickly. But often it’s a short love affair for me. I might fall in love with those songs, but it doesn't last long. Whereas something with a more complicated melody like Albedo, or maybe a Charlie Parker tune might take awhile for me to fall in love with, but then it’s a longer lasting affair. I think that’s the kind of melody I’ve been writing more of these days, certainly in Albedo. I hope you enjoy it and maybe even fall in love with it this melody after a few listenings.
One very enjoyable thing for me about the Plant Songs project is how I fall in love with each composition during the process of writing it and recording it. There’s been a period of infatuation with every one of these compositions. I hope I don’t jinx myself by writing that. The love affair usually lasts until I get into the next song. It sounds egotistical to say I love my own work. We’re used to artists saying that they don’t ever consume their own work. Many actors say they don’t watch their films. But if I’m being honest with my work and creating it from the Heart, shouldn’t it be some of my favorite music to listen to? It’s true that I hear shortcomings - phrases that didn’t come out exactly right, or little glitches, usually during the improvisation section. I hear limitations in technique and conception. But I try to be kind to myself and I do also hear growth, which makes me feel good. And the whole process is a mystery. The fact that next week I’ll be working on something different - something that doesn’t exist at all right now, but will in seven to ten days - is nicely bewildering.