This morning I�ve been working on assembling the recordings I need to teach. One of the great pleasures about teaching is the chance to listen to some of my favorite pieces more carefully than I generally do, simply because I can�t always justify taking the time.
I�ve been thinking of including an assignment that has the students compare different versions of the same piece. I�m not committed to it yet and will probably wait and see what I�ve got to work with. But in anticipation, I�ve been playing multiple recordings of some of my favorite pieces.

Currently on deck is Guillaume de Machaut�s Messe de Nostre Dame as recorded by the Hilliard Ensemble, a French choir and the choir I used to direct. When comparing recordings in this manner, you become hyper aware that the best singers do not necessarily make the best performance. I find the more I compare recordings, the more I become dissatisfied with all of them. My ear seems to want to pick and choose my favorite moments from each. The Hilliard Ensemble is undoubtedly the most accurate with the best-trained singers. The French choir is in the mix because it�s the most misguided � imagine a choir half made up of Wagnerian opera singers and half of English choirboys all trying uncomfortably to sing halfway in between. But it�s my own ensemble�s recording that I like the best. There are plenty of mistakes, both performance glitches and interpretive decisions I no longer agree with. But for the most part, it represents the way I hear the piece. That gives it an automatic edge for me, I suppose, although I also tend to be so intensely critical of my performances that I can�t listen to them for months or even years after the fact. The real edge, though is the sheer emotion that comes through. I will never forget the experience of working on this piece. We were all intensely committed to the project and passionate about the music. One of our singers even had us sing nearly the entire Mass at her wedding because it was the most personal piece she could think of, the piece with greatest meaning to her. One of the difficulties I often have with early music performance practice is that many recordings tend to strive for a sort of neutral character. It�s as if in the interest of historical accuracy we�re afraid to make too many value judgments.

The �Ita missa est� that is playing now is not at all neutral. You can hear the joy of the singers. We knew we�d kicked some ass. It�s an incredible piece of music, unlike anything else I�ve ever sung or played or conducted or listened to. If you are lucky enough to participate in a good performance of such a work it can take you somewhere you�ve never been. It�s what a former colleague of mine used to call the �God moment,� that point in time where for a second it is as if the universe has opened and offered you a glimpse of its inner magic.

The course prep has been, for me, all about getting in touch with the reasons why I do what I do. Everyone I know complains that once you hit dissertation, you stop listening to so much music. It�s kind of inevitable. I�m using the class for a chance to work out some more sound-based ideas than my dissertation project permits. Looking at, for instance, the evolution of tape music techniques into orchestral writing techniques. Revisiting previous work on political music (in the high art sphere). Thinking about form, structure, analytical methods for minimalist music and aleatoric music that have a tendency to defy traditional analysis.

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