(Originally posted on April 8, 2002)
It seems that music has often been discussed in close comparison with architecture since ancient times, and the phrase in the title, “Architecture is frozen music,” is introduced in this book as an example. I find this poetic expression quite wonderful; how does it resonate with you?
This insightful phrase is known for being frequently quoted by Iannis Xenakis, a Greek composer who was also an architect. Strictly speaking, before Xenakis, the German Romantic philosopher Schelling and the literary giant Goethe used similar expressions. However, this phrase, linking the two seemingly disparate art forms of architecture and music, has stimulated the imagination of many creators.
So, in what ways are architecture and music similar? I believe this becomes clear when we consider “gravity” as a keyword. Let’s explore this with the author.
First, let’s consider architecture. It might seem abrupt, but what would happen if you turned stone towers, Gothic cathedrals, or Japanese shrines and temples upside down? The moment you tried to move them in that state, they would likely collapse, making it impossible to maintain their form. In other words, architecture is fundamentally tied to the concept of an up-down relationship.
What is this “up-down relationship”? It refers to “the direction in which gravity works.”
Architectural art is an expression of humanity’s struggle with gravity, and at the root of architectural order lies the order of gravity, the order of mechanical laws температура_determining how to deal with it. (p172)
In Gothic architecture, enormous structures are created using the wisdom of the arch form to counteract the inherently irresistible force of “gravity.” The author suggests that those who view these structures are not only overwhelmed by their sheer size but are also moved by re-experiencing this struggle with gravity. The essence of architecture’s existence and its beauty lies in how the lower layers support the upper layers, and how they, in turn, are supported by the lower layers.
Applying this to music, the author states the following:
One sound follows another. Sounds flow one after another, culminating in a certain sound. For it to be music, the later sound must receive the sound that came before it, just as the lower layer in architecture receives the upper layer. Or, if it fails to receive it adequately, a kind of sonic momentum is generated, and a sound массив_enough to gather and firmly receive it all comes later, like a beam taking on many pillars. This is how music is constructed. (p173)
In other words, what corresponds to gravity in architecture is time in music. If you listen to a piece of music backward from the end, its original form will not be apparent. What you would hear would be like a pile of rubble from an overturned building.
In architecture, large structures can be created through a_ingenuity in devices like arch structures for stone, and timber framing, joints, and beams for wood. What about in music? Similarly, large structures can be created through the invention of “mechanisms” capable of firmly supporting the flow of sound at crucial points.
What is this “mechanism”? It is something that anyone who has even a slight_acquaintance with music theory has heard of: “dominant motion.” It is also sometimes called “resolution from the dominant chord.” In the history of Western music, the invention of this “strong timber joint” was an epoch-making event that allowed for the construction of grand musical architectures.
Indeed, the expansion of scale in Western music is largely due to the influence of dominant motion. For example, dominant motion is indispensable for supporting the structure of Beethoven’s symphonies. The mechanism behind the feeling of music progressing мощно_forward through time can be found here. Of course, nowadays, there is also a lot of music that does not rely solely on this “mechanism.”
There is a tendency to dislike the strong sense of “forward momentum/temporal feeling” of dominant motion, considering it unsophisticated or boring. From a progressive historical perspective, some voices label it as “old-fashioned and no good.” So, what alternatives are there to this “mechanism”?
One is a “change in the value of structure,” moving away from “advancing along time (accumulating)” towards “continuously changing.” There are structures where the supreme value lies in how the sound of this moment differs from what came before and how it will change further.
Specifically, one can cite music referred to as the “Onkyo-ha” (sound-focused school), and certain subgenres of techno music would also fall into this category. Interpreted broadly, this tendency can also be observed in some pop music. Minimal music would also fit in here, although it’s more interesting to view it from the perspective of “the spatialization of musical time through repetition.”
Now, based on these ideas, it would be interesting to let our imagination wander: “If we ignore the existence of gravity in music, that is, if we were to create a musical structure in zero gravity, what kind of music would be possible?”
The author states that this has already been done in twelve-tone music. Indeed, when listening to such music, one rarely feels traditional dominant motion. And the sense of indescribable rootlessness experienced when listening to it might be akin to the anxiety of being thrown into zero-gravity space.
However, considering structural mechanisms that can be effective precisely within that sense of weightlessness might be a significant point for enriching the palette of compositional techniques.
Related Articles
