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Post by jk on May 13, 2021 13:58:13 GMT -5
There are songs where it gets to the point when the singer abandons lyrics and just moans, wails or wimpers: words fail them. One example that comes to mind immediately occurs in Paul Young's "One Step Forward" (here at 2:38): Another is the sublime moment (here at 3:00) in Eurythmics' "No Fear, No Hate, No Pain", when Annie abandons words and just wails: But that's not what this topic is about. There are countless examples of songs or works with wordless singing throughout (that last word is important), whether solo or choral, up front or way back, pop or classical, jazz or film music (think Ennio Morricone) and doubtless every other genre besides. Everyone knows at least one example, even Pink Floyd fans (to say nothing of BB fans). So don't be shy, folks.
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Post by jk on May 14, 2021 12:18:39 GMT -5
Film music, particularly Italian film music, is rife with wordless singing, very often by the incomparable Edda Dell'Orso, whose voice is known the world over from her work with Ennio Morricone. Here she is on "The Ecstasy Of Gold" from my blogger friend's favourite Sergio Leone film The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966): en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edda_Dell%27Orso
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Post by jk on May 15, 2021 7:09:30 GMT -5
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Post by jk on May 16, 2021 15:43:26 GMT -5
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Post by jk on May 21, 2021 12:15:12 GMT -5
The last four minutes of "Formentera Lady" from King Crimson's late 1971 album Islands feature the wordless singing of soprano Paulina Lucas, about whom I can find nothing except that she died in early 2010. I'd forgotten, or maybe always overlooked, just how great this album opener is: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Islands_(King_Crimson_album)
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Post by jk on May 25, 2021 7:11:13 GMT -5
There are numerous great examples of wordless choral singing in symphonic music and this may be the greatest of them all. "Lever de jour" opens the second suite from Ravel's ballet Daphnis et Chloé, which was premiered in 1912. This 1961 performance by Charles Munch conducting the Boston Symphony Orchestra and the New England Conservatory Chorus is regarded in some quarters as the definitive version (with Pierre Monteux and the LSO in hot pursuit): en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daphnis_et_Chloé
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Post by jk on May 31, 2021 12:36:16 GMT -5
Here's one I heard about from my friend Carlo in Fresno. He recorded a guitar-fuelled version of "Cristo Redentor", written and arranged by one Duke Pearson, a new name to me, for Donald Byrd's 1964 album A New Perspective. The members of the wordless SATB octet, directed by Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson, are not named in the liner notes: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duke_Pearson
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Post by jk on Jun 14, 2021 7:53:58 GMT -5
Why no one has dropped in to post the most famous "non-lexical" track of all is a mystery. Well, maybe not a mystery at all, since everyone is more "Beach Boys-focused" (thanks, pw) than ever these days... en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Great_Gig_in_the_Sky
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Post by jk on Jun 15, 2021 16:48:23 GMT -5
I lifted this stunningly original and effective example of wordless singing from the "classical" thread, with the odd tweak or two: "Neptune, the Mystic", the seventh and last movement of Gustav Holst's orchestral suite The Planets, is one of the quietest pieces ever written. Indeed, Holst stipulates in the score that "the orchestra is to play sempre PP throughout". I remember my own LP's liner notes going on to describe this low volume as "the hush of concentration" rather than of despair or anything negative. The high G (here entering at 3:51) takes a while to impress itself on the senses. It is sung by female voices located in a room offstage. Dividing into six parts (seven in the last three bars), they carry the work to its conclusion. The door of the room closes slowly on the female choir during the final bar, which is "repeated until the sound is lost in the distance". en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Planets
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Post by jk on Jul 11, 2021 4:43:33 GMT -5
Here's a third classical orchestral work with a "non-lexical" choir in attendance. There are many examples to choose from, but this has to be the most ear-bending of them all. In 1910, the Russian composer and pianist Alexander Scriabin (1872[O.S. 1871]–1915) wrote his Prometheus ( The Poem of Fire/Symphony no. 5) for orchestra, chorus and (yes indeed) light organ. (There is also a fiendishly difficult solo part for piano.) The YouTube blurb is top-notch: "This was the last orchestral work written by Scriabin, and it is widely regarded as his most radical large composition and one of his greatest masterpieces. From about 1903 onward Scriabin was drawn toward the study of theosophy, and he gradually became more daring stylistically as well. The Symphony No. 5 reflects his increasingly eccentric artistic persona: it attempts to take the first step toward uniting all art forms, as well as to express certain religious and philosophical ideas. "The work's harmonic language is advanced -- but this was only another step along the way for Scriabin, who had already fashioned a style well beyond the average listener's comprehension in his own day. The composer never realized a crucial part of his conception: in the score he specifies that certain colours should flood the concert hall during performance, projected by a 'clavier à lumières,' a keyboard instrument not even in existence at the time. Scriabin associated keys with colors -- F major, for example, he linked with hell and saw as blood-red. At the March 15, 1911, premiere -- led by Koussevitsky -- the music was given without the accompanying colour projections. A 1915 New York performance provided the colours for the audience, but by projecting them on a screen -- a disappointing compromise for the composer. "The score also calls for a huge orchestra (eight horns, five trumpets, and other large sections), piano, organ, and chorus, whose members are instructed to wear white robes and sing with closed lips. Scriabin attempts to unify sound and color, as well as to convey his mystical and philosophical ideas via his Prometheus, a mythological character who symbolizes rebellion against God. The composer associates him with Lucifer, called the bringer of light, thereby introducing the element of bright color, infernal images, and much else into the work. Scriabin bases the composition on a single chord of six notes, from which emerges the opening theme on muted horns and virtually all subsequent thematic material. Prometheus begins with music depicting Chaos, and then turns to a variety of other subjects that include joy, eroticism, human passion, and ego. Near the end, when the music reverts back to the gray mists of the opening, there is a section entitled 'Dance of the Atoms of the Cosmos.' "The whole work evokes ethereal and otherworldly images. The music has an aura of the surreal throughout, with thematic development taking unexpected detours and instrumental colours often brighter and more intense than the colours any machine could project in a concert hall. The expressive language of Prometheus lies somewhere between Stravinsky's The Firebird -- a work written at about the same time -- and some of the early 12-tone works. Still, this is tonal music, masterfully crafted and hardly offensive to the modern ear. It is also pure Scriabin from first note to last." [Notes by Robert Cummings] Prometheus is performed here by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Chorus conducted by Pierre Boulez. Score readers, this is your lucky day!
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Post by jk on Jul 15, 2021 5:10:07 GMT -5
There are songs where it gets to the point when the singer abandons lyrics and just moans, wails or wimpers: words fail them. One example that comes to mind immediately occurs in Paul Young's "One Step Forward". Another is the sublime moment in Eurythmics' "No Fear, No Hate, No Pain", when Annie abandons words and just wails. But that's not what this topic is about. There are countless examples of songs or works with wordless singing throughout (that last word is important), whether solo or choral, up front or way back, pop or classical, jazz or film music (think Ennio Morricone) and doubtless every other genre besides. That may be so, jk, but it might be more interesting at this point to include songs that incorporate interesting non-lexical elements, whether foreground or background. These are Talk Talk, who made deft use of choirs on the opening and closing tracks of The Colour of Spring (1986). This is track five from its successor of two years later, Spirit of Eden. On "I Believe In You", the voices of the Choir of Chelmsford Cathedral are fed through some filter or other, to stunning effect. I now see this sublime track was released as a single that sank without trace. It's one I'd put on a music wish list for when I make it through the pearly gates (if they'll let me in). This is for LS: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirit_of_Eden
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Post by jk on Jul 20, 2021 7:07:36 GMT -5
Mr Tubey pointed me at this 45 the other day (I don't know why I keep getting songs from 1967, as it's the year before that interests me.) Anyway, "The Dis-Advantages Of You" (what a title!) reached #36 in the US in '67. The discussion linked below mentions a bunch of names of musicians who may have played on Brass Ring sessions. Regrettably there’s no mention of a female singer, the reason why this track is in this thread: forum.amcorner.com/threads/the-brass-ring.2128/
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Post by lizzielooziani on Jul 27, 2021 17:20:25 GMT -5
I’m not able to post a link from my device. But the University Chorale I was in back in the 70s performed Vaughn-Williams’ Flos Campi. Glorious oohing and aahing. If you can’t listen to the whole thing the last several minutes are quite heavenly (Online I listened to the version by the Bournemouth sinfonietta and Choir). Beautiful music and photography.
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Post by jk on Jul 28, 2021 2:48:38 GMT -5
I’m not able to post a link from my device. But the University Chorale I was in back in the 70s performed Vaughn-Williams’ Flos Campi. Glorious oohing and aahing. If you can’t listen to the whole thing the last several minutes are quite heavenly (Online I listened to the version by the Bournemouth sinfonietta and Choir). Beautiful music and photography. Hi Lizzie. Yes, a beautiful otherworldly piece - typical RVW. It occurred to me as well! I had to choose between this thread and the viola one (because of the solo part), which is where I eventually posted it. I see we chose the same performance, great minds and all that. Lucky you, being in the middle of it, so to speak. Keep well.
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Post by jk on Oct 21, 2021 6:18:37 GMT -5
Here's one YouTube's algorithm fed me last night.
I can find next to no information on The Baron Von Ohlen Quartet or vocalist Mary Ann Moss, except that "It Only Happens Everytime" is track three on side one of their 1973 album The Baron. All additional facts welcome!
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Post by jk on Oct 27, 2021 15:21:35 GMT -5
This is another fine example in classical music of the evocative use of a wordless (in this case female) choir in an otherwise orchestral work. In May 1963 I bought (with birthday money) a mono LP of recordings first published in 1958 of Debussy's La Mer and Nocturnes by Constantin Silvestri and the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra with Chorale Elisabeth Brasseur. From the latter work, this is "Sirènes", the third and last movement. In Debussy's own words, "'Sirènes' depicts the sea and its countless rhythms and presently, amongst the waves silvered by the moonlight, is heard the mysterious song of the Sirens as they laugh and pass on." To quote Felix Aprahamian's original liner notes, "For this marine nocturne, Debussy modifies his palette by suppressing the trombones, tuba and percussion, but adding a small choir of female voices used instrumentally. Their siren-song is loth to venture beyond the interval of a second, yet it haunts the ear." en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nocturnes_(Debussy)
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Post by jk on Jul 6, 2022 4:12:03 GMT -5
While going through my posts in the non-BB Discussion section and weeding out or repairing the ones whose videos had gone AWOL (a three-day job!), I gave this curiosity the chop. Later, I regretted my action and googled "caterwauling" and "psychodelic" [sic] and found a new video: "One of the odder entries in this category is the pseudo-psychodelic tantric caterwauling done by Lois Winter on 'Guru-Vin,' an ecstatic sitar-driven trip of the obscenely-rare Don Sebesky hippy-space album, Distant Galaxy." [ Source] www.soundohm.com/product/the-distant-galaxy-lp
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