KOJAK: 50 SECONDS OF TELEVISION MUSIC

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KOJAK

Fifty Seconds of

Television Music

 

Towards the

Analysis of Affect

in Popular Music

 

 

AKADEMISK AVHANDLING

Som. med vederbörligt tillstånd av Historiska-filosofiska sektionen vid Göteborgs Universitet för avläggande av filosifie doktorsexamen framlägges till officiell granskning tisdagen den 20 mars 1979, kl.10.00 på Musikvetenskapliga Institutionen,

Viktoriagatan 23, Göteborg av Philip Tagg fil. mag.

 

ACADEMIC DISSERTATION

which with appropriate permission from the Historical-Philosophical Faculty of the University of Göteborg is presented for official scrutiny on at 10 a.m. Tuesday 20th March 1979, in the Department of Musicology, Viktoriagatan 23, Göteborg, by Philip Tagg (B.A.).

SECOND EDITION: NEW YORK, 2000.

 

Contents

Preliminaries

List of musical examples 9. List of figures 13

Preface to the this edition 15

Preliminaries to the 1979 edition 15

Abstract (1979 edition) 16. Bibliographical details (1979) 17

Foreword (1979) 17. Acknowledgements (1979) 18. Preface (1979) 21

A note on the acquisition of source material 22. Practical Notes 24.

Main text

Chapter 1 Introduction 25

Chapter 2 Popular music and affect 29

2.1. ‘Popular music’ 29

2.1.1. The historical position of popular music 29

2.1.2. Popular music and genre typology 32

2.1.3. The properties of popular music: a summary 33

2.1.4. Folk music, art music, popular music: an axiomatic triangle 34

2.1.5. The general social characteristics of popular music 36

2.1.6. The analysis of popular music and

a critique of notational centricity 38

2.1.6.1 Art music and notation 39

2.1.6.2 Folk music and notation 41

2.1.6.3 Popular music and notation 42

2.1.6.4 Conclusions 44

2.2. ‘Affect’ 45

2.2.1. Baroque theories of affect 45

2.2.2. Etymology and meaning of ‘affect’ 48

2.2.3. Affect as a psychological term 48

2.2.4. Musical affect 49

Chapter 3 Musicological traditions and

popular music analysis 51

3.1. Historical traditions of European musicology 51

3.1.1. From Affektenlehre to Wertästetik 51

3.1.2. Traditional art music analysis and

the description of emotive message 55

3.1.3. Kretzschmar and the hermeneutics of music 57

3.2. Twentieth-century musicology and popular music analysis 59

3.2.1. Twentieth-century musicological formalism 59

3.2.2. Intonation Theory and ‘neo-marxist’ aesthetics of music 62

3.2.3. The semiology of music 64

3.2.4. Establishing of a communication model 67

3.3. The communication and analysis of popular music 70

3.3.1. Economic aspects 70

3.3.2. Sociological aspects 73

3.3.3. Natural and social science method 74

3.3.4. Popular music research 77

3.3.5. Conclusions 80

Chapter 4 The analysis of affect in popular music 83

4.1. Uniform systems of musical code 83

4.1.1. Muzak 83

4.1.2. Film underscore 85

4.1.3. Television series and library music 91

4.1.4. Title music 93

4.1.4.1 Application to other areas of popular music 97

4.2. General problems of affect analysis 100

4.2.1. Choice of analysis object 100

4.2.2. Problems of interdisciplinary research 101

4.2.3. Checklist for the analysis of popular music 102

4.2.3.1 Paramusical considerations 102

4.2.3.2 Checklist of musical considerations 104

4.2.3.3 Comments on check list 105

4.2.4. Analysis method: terms and procedure 106

4.2.4.1 Basic units of musical expression 106

4.2.4.2 Methods of interpretative musical analysis 110

4.2.4.3 Significance of museme strings 117

4.2.4.4 Conclusions 119

Chapter 5 The communication process: analysis 121

5.1. The transmitter 121

5.2. The receivers 125

5.3. The communication situation 126

5.3.1. Relationship transmitter – receiver 126

5.3.2. The ‘story’ 127

5.4. The channel: an account of practical analysis procedure 132

5.4.1. Sound recording 132

5.4.2. Transcription 132

5.4.3. Associational procedure 144

5.4.4. Video recording 146

5.5. Conclusions 146

Chapter 6 Musematic analysis 147

6.1. Accompanying Musemes 150

6.1.1. Bass motifs 150

6.1.2. The Moog's ‘violin’ ostinato 158

6.1.3. Other accompanying musemes 181

6.1.3.1 Accompanying brass figures 181

6.1.3.2 The woodwind stab 181

6.1.3.3 ‘Inaudible’ musemes 182

6.1.3.4 Finality of overture 182

6.1.3.5 Conclusions 184

6.2. Melodic musemes 185

6.2.1. The French horn: instrumental idiosyncrasy and archetype of paramusical connotation 186

6.2.2. The octave portamento 191

6.2.3. The dotted crotchet figure 201

6.2.4. The triplet figure 205

6.3. The harmonic language 211

6.3.1. Quartal harmony in the classical tradition 212

6.3.2. Quartal harmony in jazz and rock 215

6.3.3. Quartal harmony in the Kojak theme 216

6.4. The A section as a museme stack 222

6.4.1. Kojak and the Valkyrie 224

6.4.2. Conclusions 228

6.5. The B section 228

6.5.1. Rhythmic symmetry and asymmetry in music for violence 229

6.5.2. Teleprinter urgency in music 235

6.5.3. The syntagmatic significance of the B section 237

Chapter 7 Visual analysis 241

7.1. Procedure 243

7.2. Visual sequences 245

7.2.1. Visual sequence no.1 245

7.2.2. Visual sequence no.2 251

7.2.3. Visual sequence no.3 252

7.2.4. Visual sequence no. 4 256

7.2.5. Visual Sequence No. 5 259

7.2.5.1 Visual Sequence 5a 259

7.2.5.2 Visual Sequence 5b 262

7.2.6. Visual Sequence no. 6 264

7.2.6.1 Visual Sequence 6a 264

7.2.6.2 Visual Sequence 6b 267

7.2.7. Visual sequence no.7 268

7.3. Conclusions 268

Chapter 8 Other paramusical aspects 269

8.1. Kojak’s actions 269

8.2. Kojak’s clothing 270

8.3. Kojak’s gestures 271

8.4. Visual myth 271

8.4.1. A biblical excursion 271

8.4.2. On the value of mythical comparison 276

8.5. The name Kojak 278

8.5.1. Orthography 278

8.5.2. Pronunciation 279

8.5.3. Other aspects 280

8.6. Personality and environment 282

8.6.1. Kojak’s personality 282

8.6.2. Kojak’s environment 285

8.7. Conclusions 286

Chapter 9 Significance of Syntagmatic Structure 287

9.1. Theory 287

9.1.1. Congeneric and extrageneric analysis 287

9.1.2. Present time and passing time 289

9.2. The interpretation of affect in musical phrases (present-time perception) 291

9.2.1. Musical phrase 1 295

9.2.2. Musical phrase 2 298

9.2.3. Musical phrase 3 302

9.2.4. Musical phrase 4 303

9.2.5. Musical phrase 5 304

9.2.6. Musical phrases 6 - 7 306

9.2.6.1 Shortened recapitulation 306

9.2.6.2 Quicker rise of general pitch 307

9.2.6.3 Other recap novelties 307

9.2.7. Musical phrases 8 - 9 308

9.2.8. Summary of affective meaning of musical phrases 311

9.3. Processual interpretation 313

9.3.1. Affective constants 314

9.3.1.1 Musical constants 314

9.3.1.2 Visual constants 315

9.3.2. Affective variables 318

9.3.2.1 The main points of processual change 318

9.3.3. Disparity and congruity between musical and visual affective

processes 321

9.3.3.1 Parameters of consistent affective congruity of visual and musical message 322

9.3.3.2 The first main process from affective disparity to affective congruity of musical and visual message [from MP/VS1 to MP5/VS5a] 322

9.3.3.3 The second main process from affective disparity to affective congruity of musical and visual message [from MP6/VS5b to MP9/VS7] 327

9.3.4. Centripetal and centrifugal processes 332

9.3.4.1 Centripetal and centrifugal musical processes 335

9.3.4.2 Centripetal and centrifugal visual processes 339

9.3.4.3 The interpretation of centripetal and centrifugal processes 344

9.3.5. Conclusions 354

Chapter 10 Conclusions 355

10.1. The Kojak theme 355

10.2. Practical application of analytical method 356

10.3. Further research 358

Appendices

Bibliography 359

List of Musical References 372

Abbreviations and Special Terms 387

Other appendices 389

Abbreviation of dates 389

Abbreviation of pitch references 389

A note on Bartók’s use of quartal harmony 389

Biblical substantiation of symbolic parallels drawn in Chapter 8 390

Index 393

 

List of musical examples

References to musical examples are also included in the Index (p. 393, ff.) where they listed in alphabetical order of both composer/artist and of musical work.

 

1 Sequence of standard rock clichés in piano reduction 43

2 Hendrix (1967): part of guitar solo in ‘Red House’ on Are You Experienced? 44

3 The first three melodic musemes of the Kojak theme. 107

4 Kojak theme MP1: substitution of elements 108

5 Kojak theme MP1: alteration of museme stack components. (a) original; (b) alteration of tonality type; (c) alteration of tonal centre; (d) alteration of bass and/or brass and/or woodwind 109

6 (HS) Kojak theme, MP1 as syntactical nonsense 110

7 Confusion of musematic meaning with B$13 chord: (a) Offenbach: ‘La lettre de Périchole’; (b) bebop harmonies for blues in B$ 113

8 Confusion of musematic meaning, major & minor: (a) Händel: Aria ‘He was despiséd’ from The Messiah; (b) What shall we do with the Drunken Sailor 113

9 (HS) Swedish national anthem: hypothetical substitutions 115

10 J C Parker: Theme from Cannon 129

11 Grainer (1958) Maigret Theme. 131

12 M Norman and J Barry (1962): James Bond Theme (Dr. No). 131

13 Kojak theme – original transcript, b.20-28. 134

14 Kojak theme – final transcript, b.21-28. 135

15 Billy Goldenberg (1973): Kojak theme, full score, bars 21-28. 137

16 Goldenberg: Kojak theme: notated versions – comparison bars 1-2. 138

17 Goldenberg: Kojak theme: notated versions – comparison bar 6. 138

18 Goldenberg: Kojak theme notated versions – comparison bars 17-18. 139

19 Kojak theme – final transcription 140-142

20 Aretha Franklin (1968): Since You've Been Gone (bass riff) 151

21 Wilson Pickett (1967): Stagger Lee (bass riff) 151

22 Carole King (1971): I Feel The Earth Move (bass motif before piano solo) 151

23 Herbie Hancock (1974): bass riff from ‘Chameleon’ on Head Hunters 151

24 Larry Graham (1974): bass riff from ‘Rap On Mr Writer’ on Release Yourself 151

25 Don Ellis Band (1971): Higher (bass riff) 151

26 Stan Kenton & His Orchestra (1971): Hank’s Opener 152

27 King Curtis (1967): Memphis Soul Stew (bass riff) 152

28 The Soul Clan (1968): Soul Meeting (bass riff) 152

29 The Bee-Gees (1977): Staying Alive (hook line) 152

30 Ike & Tina Turner (1966): River Deep, Mountain High (bass fill) 152

31 The Righteous Brothers (1964): You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling (bass fill) 152

32 Isaac Hayes (1971): The Theme From Shaft (bass riff) 154

33 Hatch: Sportsnight (bass riff from BBC TV signature) 154

34 Wagner (1871): Siegfried ldyll, b. 29, ff. 155

35 Borodin (1880): On the Steppes of Central Asia (start) 155

36 Copland (1941): ‘On The Open Prairie’, b. 7-8, from Billy The Kid 155

37 (HS) Kojak theme: tonic pedal in bass 156

38 (HS) Kojak theme: oompah bass line 156

39 Goldenberg: Kojak theme – published piano arrangement (1974, 1975) showing use of pseudo-habanera ostinato in left hand 156

40 (HS) Kojak theme: bass line too syncopated 157

41 (HS) Kojak theme: bass line too dissonant 157

42 (HS) Kojak theme: bass line legato e piano 157

43 Monteverdi (1624): Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda 158

44 Debussy (1902): Mélisande’s doubt from Pelléas et Mélisande 159

45 Stravinsky (1927): Opening chorus from Oedipus Rex 159

46 Stravinsky (1911): Pétrouchka’s Despair 159

47 Berlioz (1839): Romeo anticipating the ball in Roméo et Juliette 159

48 Berlioz (1839): Balcony scene from Roméo et Juliette 159

49 Purcell (1691): Frost scene from King Arthur 160

50 Wilbye (1609): Sweet Honey Sucking Bees 160

51 Händel (1716): Aria from The Passion 160

52 Händel (1741): Aria ‘But who may abide’ from The Messiah 160

53 Stravinsky (1915): Firebird Suite (start) 161

54 Schubert (1823): ‘Wohin?’ (Die schöne Müllerin, no. 2: start) 161

55 Schubert (1828): ‘Erlkönig’ (Ausgewählte Lieder, no.1: start) 161

56 Schubert (1828): ‘Gretschen am Spinnrade’ (Ausgewählte Lieder, no.2: start) 162

57 Sibelius (1905): Spinning wheel from Pelleas and Melisande (Op. 46) 162

58 Berlioz (1862): La prise de Troie (opening) 163

59 Berlioz (1862): Cassandra’s premonitions from La prise de Troie 163

60 Berlioz (1863): Aeneas’ farewell to Dido, Les troyens à Carthage 164

61 Berlioz (1863): Departure for Italy. Les troyens à Carthage 164

62 Berlioz (1863): Les troyens à Carthage, act 3 (end) 164

63 J.S. Bach (1729): Der Vorhang im Tempel. Matthäuspassion 165

64 Ravel (1913): Daphnis et Chloë – ‘Lever du jour’ (start) 166

65 Hindemith (1933): Versuchung des heiligen Antonius. Mathis der Mahler 166

66 Rózsa (1968): Nightmare music from Julius Caesar 167

67 (HS) Kojak: museme 2b as ‘atonal’ 167

68 L. Bernstein (1957): West Side Story (fight music) 167

69 Händel (1749): ‘Arrival of the Queen of Sheba’ from Solomon 168

70 Debussy (1899): Trois nocturnes – ‘Fêtes’ (opening) 169

71 Stravinsky (1911): Pétrouchka – opening bars 170

72 (HS) Kojak theme: gallop ostinati 171

73 (HS) Kojak theme: Basic pulse changed but tremolando surface rate retained 171

74 (HS) Kojak: semiquaver ostinato played by bass instruments 172

75 Rózsa (1968): Impending murder music from Julius Caesar 172

76 Gershwin (1935): Impending fight. Porgy and Bess 172

77 (HS) Kojak theme: museme 2b played two octaves lower. 172

78 J.S. Bach (1724): St. John Passion (opening) 173

79 (HS) Kojak: museme 2b over wide pitch range (1) 174

80 Ravel (1913): Daphnis et Chloë – ‘Nocturne’ (start) 175

81 Ravel (1913): Daphnis et Chloë (full sunrise) 175

82 Respighi (1916): Fontane di Roma – ‘La fontana di Trevi al meriggio’ 176

83 (HS) Kojak: museme 2b spread over wide pitch range in all string parts 177

84 Respighi (1924): Pini di Roma – ‘Pini presso una catacomba’ 177

85 Funeral marches at low pitch 177

86 Prokofiev (1937): Peter and The Wolf – ‘The Wolf’ 187

87 Prokofiev (1937): Peter and The Wolf – Peter’s theme 187

88 R Strauss (1915): Alpensymphonie – ‘Eintritt in der Wald’ 188

89 English Post Horn Signals incl. ‘Clear the Road’ 189

90 Brackenjagd ‘Aufbruch zur jagd’ 189

91 Marcia for post horn and orchestra (c. 1778) 189

92 Beethoven (1804): Eroica Symphony (1st movement, b. 631) 190

93 Beethoven (1804): Eroica Symphony (Finale, bar 380) 190

94 Beethoven (1804): Eroica Symphony (Scherzo-Trio, bar 1) 190

95 R Strauss (1889): Don Juan – ‘Haupttema des Mannes’ 192

96 Mahler (1912): Lied von der Erde – ‘Das Trinklied von Jammer der Erde’ 193

97 Liszt (1849): Tone Poem Tasso, first theme, major variant 193

98 Wagner’s Ring – Siegfried's sword motif 193

99 Sibelius: Kullervo Symphony – 1st theme 193

100 Sibelius (1892): Kullervo Symphony – Kullervo goes to battle 194

101 Wagner (1871): Siegfried's hero motif 194

102 Wagner (1871): Siegfried's horn call 194

103 Wagner (1841): The Flying Dutchman's motif 194

104 R Strauss (1898): Ein Heldenleben – hero motif (no.1 in Thementafel) 194

105 R Koury (1955): Theme from Gunsmoke 195

106 Steiner (1948): Opening titles for The Treasure of the Sierra Madre 195

107 The Saint (radio theme) 196

108 Mark Trail (US Radio Signature) 196

109 A Newman (1963): How The West Was Won (film), main theme 196

110 J Immel (1976): How The West Was Won (TV) 197

111 B Kaper (1965): The FBI (TV Theme) 197

112 J Williams (1977): Star Wars (main theme) 197

113 J Williams (1978): Superman (main theme motifs) 197

114 Theme from The Brothers (British TV, mid 1970s) 197

115 J Reichert (c.1970): Heroic Endeavour (Boosey & Hawkes Library) 198

116 Kojak theme HS: no whoops 198

117 (HS) Kojak theme: (a) dynamics (b) continuation (c) accentuation 199

118 H Arlen (1939): Over The Rainbow 199

119 Descending ‘sighing’ sixths, sevenths and octaves: (a) Springtime for Hitler (Brooks 1968); (b) Du bist wie eine Blume (Schumann 1840); (c) An die Musik (Schubert 1816); (d) l Cannot Sing The Old Songs (Claribel n.d.); (e) Love motifs from Wagner’s Ring 199

120 M Norman, J Barry (1962): James Bond theme (release) 200

121 Kojak theme harmony HS: (a) original quartal (b) dissonant 200

122 Mussorgsky (1872): Boris Godunov – Coronation 200

123 (HS) Kojak theme: no q . e q . e 201

124 Mozart (1787): Eine kleine Nachtmusik (K525, bar. 1) 201

125 Beethoven (1808): Symphony no.5 in C minor, bar 1 202

126 Rossini (1829): Overture to William Tell (bar 226) 202

127 (HS) Eine kleine Nachtmusik without propulsive repetition 202

128 Beethoven’s Fifth without propulsive repetition 202

129 (HS) William Tell gallop without propulsive repetition 202

130 (HS) Kojak theme: (a) original, (b) no propulsive repetition 203

131 (HS) Kojak theme q . e: (a) cha-cha (b) inverted dotting (c) alla marcia 203

132 R Strauss (1915): Alpensymphonie – ‘Der Anstieg’ 205

133 Theme from Official Detective 206

134 Theme from Counterspy 206

135 Hatch (1967): The Champions (TV theme) 207

136 (HS) Kojak theme: (a) as jig; (b) as English Romantic pastorale; (c) as US pop milksop c.1959, (d) as jazz standard on bar piano 208

137 (HS) Kojak theme: triplet speed: (a) original crotchets (b) quavers 208

138 Hindemith (1934): Mathis der Mahler – finale 209

139 (HS) Kojak theme triplet: pitch profile: (a) original; (b) and (c) small intervals 210

140 (HS) Kojak theme triplet’s ‘atonalisation’: (a) original (b) ‘atonal’ (c) chromatic 210

141 Kojak chords as piled fourths: (a) C7sus4; (b) Cm11; (c) E$7sus4; (d) E$m11 211

142 Quartal chords as piled fifths 212

143 Chords of the eleventh 212

144 Minor pentatonic scales of C & E$ 212

145 ‘Quartal’ Russian folk song 213

146 Mussorgsky (1879): Darling Savishna 213

147 Mussorgsky (1874): Pictures at an Exhibition: ‘The Old Castle’ 213

148 Borodin: (a) In the Forest (1886); (b) The Sleeping Princess (1867) 213

149 Debussy (1910): La cathédrale engloutie 213

150 Debussy (1901): Pour le piano – Sarabande 213

151 Bartók (1917): String Quartet No.2 – 3rd movement 214

152 Hindemith (1933): Mathis der Mahler – ‘Grablegung’ 214

153 De Falla (1919): El sombrero de tres picos – ‘Farruca’ 214

154 Miles Davis (1959): ‘So What’ (Kind of Blue) 215

155 Freddie Hubbard (1970): Red Clay 216

156 (HS) Kojak with ‘Western’ tertial modal harmony 217

157 (HS) Kojak as a Hymn 217

158 (HS) Kojak as 16th Century Polyphony 217

159 (HS) Kojak as romantic pop ballad 218

160 (HS) Kojak as heavy rock 218

161 (HS) Kojak as funk 219

162 (HS) Kojak as bossa nova 219

163 (HS) Kojak with Cm7 instead of Cm11 219

164 Wagner (1856): Die Walküre – 1er Aufzug: Vorspiel 224

165 Wagner (1856): Die Walküre (Overture) 224

166 Wagner (1856): Die Walküre – ‘Ride of the Valkyrie’ 225

167 Stravinsky (1913): Rite of Spring – Sacrificial Dance 230

168 Händel (1733): Orlando – mad scene 231

169 Berlioz (1862): La prise de Troie – ‘Le Combat de Ceste’ 231

170 (HS) Berlioz’ ‘Le combat de Ceste’ in 6/8 232

171 L Bernstein: West Side Story – ‘The Rumble’ 233

172 Gershwin (1935): Porgy and Bess – Fight 233

173 F Lai (1966): Un homme et une femme – main title 234

174 (HS) Kojak (at q = 72) as Un homme et une femme 235

175 Hayes (1971): Theme from Shaft 235

176 Hatch (1974): Theme from Sportsnight 235

177 Signature to SR/TV news broadcast Aktuellt 235

178 Supremes (1966)/Vanilla Fudge (1967): You Just Keep Me Hanging On

– Urgency motif 236

179 (HS) Kojak theme: continuation of A section processes into B 238

180 (HS) Kojak theme, B section: 4/4 metre replaces 5/4 238

181 (HS) Kojak theme, B section, accompaniment only:

(a) Fm11 replaces Fmaj7 « A$/3; (b) Fm11 « Cm11 replaces Fmaj7 « A$/3 238

182 (HS) Kojak B section as asymmetrical and atonal terror 238

183 Kojak. String parts, b.18-22 267

184 Mozart: Symphony no. 40 in G minor, first melodic phrase (surface structure) 292

185 MP1’s musemes in nonsensical order 299

186 MP1’s musemes in wrong but less nonsensical order 299

187 Kojak theme: MP2 repeated 302

List of figures and tables

1 ‘Popular music’: historical flowchart 29

2 Folk music, art music, popular music: an axiomatic triangle 35

3 Parameters of musical expression storable in mass media 38

4 Eco’s communication model 67

5 Bengtsson’s model of the musical communication process 68

6 Communication model for the analysis of popular music 69

7 Circulation of capital in the record industry 71

8 Table of musemes in the Kojak theme 148-149

9 Musical/structural traits and connotations of tremol[and]o figures 179

10 Kullervo goes to Battle by Akseli Gallen-Kallela 194

11 Speed of pendulum between equidistant points 204

12 Relationship of melody to accompaniment in popular music 223

13 Model for analysis of museme stacks 223

14 Analysis of A section museme stack in the Kojak theme (bars 5-14 or MPs 2-4) 223

15 Comparison of museme stacks in the Kojak theme and Wagner’s Valkyrie 227

16 Polyrhythmic structure of the fight in Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess 233

17 Relationship of items of musical code (IMC) in the analysis object (AO) to the paramusical connotations (PMC) of the interobjective comparison (IOCM) 241

18 Relationships between (1) items of musical code in the analysis object and (2) items of musical code in the interobjective comparison material (3) paramusical connotations of the interobjective comparison material and (4) paramusical connotations of the analysis object 242

19 Table showing correspondence of duration between MP (musical phrase) and VS (visual sequence.) in Kojak (main title) 244

20 Points of affective divergence 250

21 Discrepancies between affective messages of VS2 and MP2 252

22 Geometrical symmetry in sweep-in patterns 253

23 Directional effects of diagonal in VS3: (a) Kojak talking/looking down diagonal; (b) diagonal leading back to Kojak via sweep-in order; (c) wide-angle lens effect 254

24 Summary of change in relationship between visual and musical message from VS2/MP2 to VS3/MP3 254

25 VS4: masking pattern’s emphasis of movement toward the viewer 256

26 Action in and outside picture frame 257

27 VS5: Order of sweep-in strips and Kojak’s positions as hub of imaginary extended parallelogram 259

28 Circumscription and centralisation by sweep-in. 259

29 Relationship between Kojak's direction of movement and those created by the sweep-in 260

30 Relationship between visual and musical message in VS5a/MP5 262

31 Multidirectional and unidirectional sweep-in patterns. 265

32 Superpower logos 265

33 Approaching demonstration in central perspective 266

34 Kojak’s name coming from beyond the horizon and passing high over our heads 266

35 Deep structure of melodic phrases 292

36 Generative analysis of first melodic phrase in Mozart’s 40th symphony (K550) 293

37 Transformation of Kojak theme MP2 into MP1 295

38 Relationship of figure to ground (melodic to accompanying parts) in MP1 297

39 Generative analysis of first full melodic line of the Kojak theme 300

40 MP2: relationship melody (figure) to accompaniment (ground) 301

41 Transformation of MP2’s TM (b. 6-7) into MP3’s TM (b. 10-11) 301

42 Transformation of MP2 into MP4 303

43 Generative analysis of MP5 304

44 MP5: relationship of melody (figure) to accompaniment (ground) 305

45 Transformation of MPs 2-4 into MPs 6-7 306

46 Transformation of MP1 into MPs 8-9 309

47 MPs 8-9: relationship of musical figure to ground 310

48 Division of the Kojak theme into musical sections 313

49 Table of main processes in the Kojak theme [music] 316

50 [A21 ® A22 ® A31 ® B] in relation to [A23 ® A32 ® A12] 319

51 Main points of simultaneous processual development in the Kojak theme (a) 323

52 Musical and visual processes – figure/individual/melody 330

53 Musical and visual processes – ground/environment/accompaniment 331

54 A-B-A form on a one-dimensional time axis 334

55 A-B-A form: its concentric aspect 334

56 A-B-A form: its basically centripetal process 334

57 Eisler's Solidaritätslied as centripetal process ending centrifugally 335

58 §9.3.4.1.1 chronologically 335

59 §9.3.4.1.1 as double centripetal process 335

60 §9.3.4.1.2 as double centripetal process 336

61 §9.3.4.1.3 as single centripetal process 336

62 §9.3.4.1.4 as single centripetal process 336

63 §9.3.4.1.5 as double centripetal process 336

64 §9.3.4.1.6 as successive single centripetal process 337

65 §9.3.4.1.7 as successive centripetal process 337

66 §9.3.4.1.8 as single centripetal process 338

67 §9.3.4.1.9 as a double centripetal process 338

68 §9.3.4.1.10 as a centrifugal process 338

69 §9.3.4.1.11 as double centripetal, double centrifugal process 339

70 §9.3.4.1.12 as single centrifugal process 339

71 §9.3.4.1.13 as centripetal process 339

72 §9.3.4.2.1 as a centripetal process 339

73 §9.3.4.2.1 as centripetal process on screen 340

74 §9.3.4.2.2 as a centripetal process 340

75 §9.3.4.2.2 as centripetal process on screen 340

76 §9.3.4.2.3 as a centripetal process 340

77 §9.3.4.2.4 as a centripetal process 340

78 §9.3.4.2.5 as a centripetal process 341

79 §9.3.4.2.5 as a centripetal process on screen 341

80 §9.3.4.2.6 as centripetal process 341

81 §9.3.4.2.7 as centripetal process 341

82 §9.3.4.2.8 as single centripetal process 342

83 §9.3.4.2.9 as centripetal process 342

84 §9.3.4.2.10 as centripetal process 342

85 §9.3.4.2.11 as centripetal process 342

86 §9.3.4.2.12 as centripetal process 343

87 §9.3.4.2.13 as centripetal process 343

88 §9.3.4.2.14 as double centripetal process 343

89 §9.3.4.2.15 as centrifugal process 343

90 Table of simultaneity of centripetal and centrifugal processes 346

91 Points of transfer from chronological time to musical time 351

92 The Kojak theme’s centripetality in connection with ‘the story’ (episode) 353

 

Preface to the second edition

Many people have complained they are unable to get hold of this old dissertation from 1979. Even though this current edition is the result of much hard work, including weeks of scanning in text, months of correcting the scanning programme’s intelligent errors, months of recomposing practically every single music example, weeks of laying pages to a format that will print on North American paper as well as the rest of the world’s A4 format, etc., etc., this new edition is basically the same as the original. There are, however, a few improvements: [1] an index has been added; [2] the footnote apparatus has been rationalised, mostly either by combining several into one or by incorporating simple references into the main body of text; [3] references to recordings have, where possible, been updated; [4] spelling has been rationalised according to the house style of Popular Music (Cambridge University Press); [5] some sentences have been rewritten to aid comprehension; [6] more readable fonts have been used; [7] almost all music examples have been produced using notation software for purposes of greater legibility; [8] the following changes in terminology have been introduced: [8a] the clumsy expressions ‘paradigmatic museme compound’ and ‘syntagmatic museme compound’, used in the original version, have, at the suggestion of my external examiner in 1979, Bill Brooks, been replaced by the much neater ‘museme stacks’ and ‘museme strings’ respectively; [8b] ‘extramusical’ has on many occasions been replaced with ‘paramusical’ (‘alongside’ rather than ‘outside the music’) while the use of words like ‘denote’, ‘designate’ and ‘connote’ has been tightened up so that, for example, what were once ‘EMDs’ (or ‘extramusical designates’) are in this edition called ‘PMFCs’ — paramusical fields of connotation. Minor additions or changes to the text have usually been parenthesised between square brackets, [thus].

Little did I think, back in 1979, that there would still be a need for this research in the year 2000. But little did I think back then that life would deteriorate so much for the vast majority of humanity and that, with no communist bogey to blame, people would still accept the oppressive absurdity of finance capitalism as if it were an act of God. So, here’s the ‘Kojak analysis’ again. It still shows that the mass production of ideology is also a musical matter. You don’t even have to read too closely between the lines to realise that understanding the mechanisms behind the musical mediation of ideology may make a small contribution to our chances of fighting back successfully. I hope it will be as unnecessary to republish this work twenty-one years from now as it will be to identify capitalism as the root of social injustice.

I would like to thank Franco Fabbri (Milan), David Horn (Liverpool) and Andrew Hugill (Leicester) for their support during the production of this edition. Special thanks go to Maria Tagg (Liverpool) for ‘being there’ and to Karen Collins (also Liverpool) for moral support and for help with typing, formatting and proof reading. Thanks finally to anyone who refuses to accept that greed is a virtue.

Liverpool, 25 April 2000.

Abstract (1979 edition)

At least one hundred million people in over seventy nations have seen Kojak on television and heard its signature tune. This title theme is admittedly an infinitesimal part of all popular music outside the traditional musicological frames of reference, but it still serves as a pertinent example of how ideas are communicated in popular music. It is argued that popular music differs from art and folk music on a number of counts: (1) socio-economically; (2) in modes of conception, storage and distribution; (3) in modes of perception; (4) in the average duration of ‘pieces’; (5) in its degree of ‘extrageneric referentiality’; (6) in the sociocultural heterogeneity of its listeners. These are some of the reasons why traditional musicological discipline, with its tendencies towards formalism and Werthästhetik, and with its concentration on congeneric rather than extrageneric analysis, is on its own insufficient in popular music research.

In this thesis a basically hermeneutic approach to the epistemology of popular music is being advocated which, in conjunction with semiological and sociological method, should lead to the establishment of workable hypotheses about the communication of ideas in the vast majority of music played and heard in industrialised capitalist society. To avoid the degeneration of hermeneutic interpretation into exegesis, methods of popular music analysis are presented in conjunction with a detailed study of the Kojak theme. These methods are based on three levels of musical perception: (1) ‘musematic’, (2) ‘paradigmatic’ and (3) ‘syntagmatic’. The first two of these three levels are referential and extrageneric. Using conceptual tools such as ‘musematic correspondence’, ‘museme stacks’ etc., and the analytical methods of ‘interobjective comparison’ and ‘hypothetical substitution’, correspondence can be established between items of musical code in an analysis object (here the Kojak theme) and the paramusical fields of connotation of similar items of musical code in other musical works in relevant genres or with relevant sociomusical functions. The third level of perception (‘syntagmatic’) requires congeneric, intramusical analysis. Using models loaned from Chomskian linguistics and the History of Art, verbal interpretation of musical phrases is attempted, whereafter the total musical and visual message of the piece is analysed, using models of ‘centripetal’ and ‘centrifugal’ processuality.

Two conclusions to be drawn from the Kojak analysis are (1) musical more than visual message determines the affective evaluation of Kojak as a positive, heroic figure; (2) the Kojak theme reinforces a monocentric world view. General conclusions: the methods of musematic analysis evolved in this thesis lead to hypotheses conclusive enough to be tested by social science method; the syntagmatic analytical method must be further developed before reaching this stage. Musematic analysis is considered suitable for adaptation to less academic educational purposes.

 

Bibliographical details of 1979 edition

TAGG Philip D: Kojak – Fifty Seconds Of Television Music: Towards the Analysis of Affect in Popular Music. 1979, Göteborg.

Doctoral thesis from the Department of Musicology at the University of Göteborg, Sweden. No.2 in series Skrifter från Musikvetenskapliga Institutionen, Göteborg. 301 pp. ISBN 91-7222-235-2.

Foreword to 1979 edition

This thesis, presented at the Department of Musicology in Göteborg, is an expanded and radically re-edited translation of my provisional Swedish text Kojak – 50 Sekunders TV-Musik: en pilotprojekt i populärmusikalisk affektanalys. I am to be held responsible for all faults in this volume, not only in my capacity of author but also since I typed and proof read the work myself.

As resident in Sweden for the past twelve and a half years I expect the Anglo-Saxon reader may find this work somewhat Teutonic while the Germanic reader may find it rather Anglo-Saxon. There are bound to be various faults I have overlooked. It is hoped that the reader will overlook them too if they are not of too serious a nature.

Göteborg, 13th February 1979.

Philip Tagg.

Acknowledgements (1979)

I would like to thank the following individuals and institutions. Without their help, information encouragement, criticism and interest, this thesis would never have reached completion. If I should have omitted a name from this list I am sorry: so many people have been so helpful. Thank you!

The American Center (Birgitta Bodell) and The American Embassy (cultural attache), Stockholm; Sven Berger (Göteborg) for information about the French horn; Alf Björnberg (Göteborg) for help with the calculation of pendulum speeds; William Brooks (New York) for encouragement, interest and acting as opponent; Anders Carlsson (Göteborg); Peter Cassirer (Göteborg); Gustav Cavallius (Göteborg) for invaluable help with visual analysis; DDR Kulturcentrum, Stockholm; Reine Dahlqvist (Göteborg) for valuable information about the history of the French horn; Josée Destrempes (Québec) for encouragement, interest and exchange of valuable knowledge about musical form; Åke Edefors (Göteborg) for help with questions of big band music; Olle Edström (Göteborg) for valuable interest, criticism and encouragement; Magnus Eldenius (Göteborg) for help with calculation of pendulum speeds and dotted crochet figures and for interest and encouragement; Bo G Eriksson (Göteborg) for criticism and encouragement; Johan Fornäs (Göteborg) for valuable criticism, interest and encouragement; Harry Garfield (Universal City) for making the manuscript of the Kojak theme available; Ingemar Glanzelius (Göteborg); the staff of Göteborgs Universitetsbibliotek who labour with great friendliness and efficiency under an outmoded library system; Leif Grave-Müller (Göteborg) for imparting his knowledge of affect in Baroque keyboard music; Christina Hahn (Malmö) for interest and encouragement; Carl-Axel and Lennart Hall (Göteborg) for interest and encouragement; Mona Hallin (Göteborg) for valuable criticism, interest and encouragement; Axel Helmer of Svenskt Musikhistoriska Arkiv (Stockholm) for information about publishing figures in days of yore; Sten Ingelf (Malmö) for facts about Freddie Hubbard; Göran Josefsson (Göteborg) for invaluable help, interest and encouragement; Tage Göransson, SR/TV (Stockholm) for valuable information about special effects work; Gerard and Marineke Kempers (Lelystad) for interest and (Marineke) help with visual analysis; Dave Kettlewell (Tisbury); Erik Kjell (Göteborg) for valuable criticism and interest; Krokslätts Daghem (Mölndal) and its excellent staff – Anne-Sophie Nyström, Wally Benjaminson and Ulla Hjalmarsson (and children) – for giving my daughter such a happy time while I worked at this thesis on weekdays; Margit Kronberg (Mölndal) for invaluable interest and encouragment; Eva-Katarina Larsson (Öckerö); Anne-Marie Larsson-Josefsson (Göteborg) for interest and musical information; Monika Lauritzen (Göteborg) for interest and information about TV serialisation; Johannes Leyman (Göteborg) for information about recording techniques; Lars Liljestam (Göteborg); Jan Ling (Göteborg) for invaluable guidance, encouragement, criticism, help in his capacity as supervisor – without his help it is doubtful whether this thesis would ever have been written; Gunnar Lindgren (Göteborg) for interest and valuable information on jazz; Maksymillian Litynski (Göteborg) for helping me with Russian texts and keeping the department’s economy under good control; David Murphy (St.Ives) for valuable criticism and help with visual analysis; the staff of Musikakademiens Bibliotek (Stockholm) for sending books, scores and information; Dennis McCaldin (Lancaster) for letting me use the Music Department’s library and for friendly encouragement; Ken Naylor (Cambridge) for so generously encouraging my interest in music as a teenager; Sture Olofsson (Stockholm) for prompt help with press cuttings at SR and for encouragement; Anders Mörén (MCA Music, Stockholm) for helping me acquire valuable source material; Malcolm Page (Göteborg) for invaluable help with understanding the technicalities and idiosyncrasies of the French horn; Agneta Preber (SR/ TV2, Stockholm) for sending a tape of filmed interviews; Finn Rosengren (Göteborg) for invaluable help, interest, criticism, encouragement and vast amounts of musical information; Jannika Schulman (SR/PUB, Stockholm) for being so helpful over the phone with TV audience statistics; Cyril Simons (Leeds Music, London) for helping me acquire valuable source material; Patrick J Smith (New York) for writing a helpful letter; Ingemar Sörensson (Göteborg), our department librarian, for being so helpful, friendly and informative; Eric and Elda Southern (Cambridge) for encouragement, interest and practical help; Torgny Stintzing (Göteborg) for interest and information; Pierre Ström (Stockholm); Students’ Bookshops Ltd., (Lancaster) for sending me the books I ordered; my father E Donovan Tagg (Lancaster) for interest, encouragement and biblical information, also for letting me work in his office; my mother ‘Mike’ Tagg (Lancaster) for looking after us so well in England; my brother Roger Tagg (London) for interest and encouragement; my brother Stephen Tagg (Glasgow) for interest, information and criticism on method, encouragement; to Maria Tagg, my daughter (Göteborg) without whose cheerful little existence this thesis would have been a dreary task – from the age of 2 to 4 she has had to put up with a somewhat absent-minded father who never seemed to do anything but type; Michael Talbot (Liverpool) for interest, encouragement, information and for letting me use his Music Department library; Studio Tal och Ton (Göteborg) for answering my queries about recording technique – thanks to Janne Zetterberg, Bob Lander; Eero Tarasti (Helsinki) for interest, criticism, encouragement and valuable information; Peter Thörn (Göteborg) for providing me with some good rock and roll records; Stig-Magnus Thorsén (Lerum) for invaluable help, criticism, interest, encouragement and information (not least about Muzak); The United States Information Service, Stockholm.

I would also like to thank a number of other people who have all, whether they know it or not, contributed towards the completion of this thesis. Apart from all students and colleagues past and present who asked so many pertinent questions and apart from all those I have omitted to mention in this acknowledgements section, a special thank you is due to the following individuals: (cryptic acknowledgements) Johann S Bach, Béla Bartók, Bernardo Bertolucci, William Byrd, Fidel Castro, Paul McCartney, Olga Charlton, Frédéric Chopin, Angela Davis, Josée Destrempes, Hanns Eisler, Tomes Elvén, Göran Engdahl, Bram.Fischer, Jane Fonda, Jimi Hendrix, Ho Chi Minh, Victor Jara, Göran Josefsson, Margit Kronberg, John Lennon, Jan Ling, Groucho Marx, Karl Marx, Monika Nelsson-Tagg, Henry Purcell, J Robbie Robertson, Georges Simenon, Peter Söfelde, Ingemar Stenmark, Maria Svensson, Maria Tagg, Thomas Tomkins, Camillo Torres, Wat Tyler and Thomas Weelkes.

Thanks also to Hans Elvesson and Max Litynski (Göteborg) for help with Polish nomenclature; to Göran Kjellmer (Göteborg) for criticising chapter 8.5; to Anders Carlsson (Göteborg) for rubbing out pencil marks, doing the shopping and lending me his car; to Nils-Petter Sundgren (SR/TV2, Stockholm) for information about his programme Hollywood, Hollywood.

All quotes from the Kojak theme are by kind permission of Duchess Music Corporation.

Thanks finally to my present patrons, the Swedish tax-payers, via the Humanistiska-samhällsvetenskapliga forskningsrådet, for chanelling sufficient funds in my direction to cover my rent and food costs.

Thanks also to Bertil Holm for running errands when the temperature was -20ºC and to Ingemar Sörensson for rubbing out pencil marks.

 

Preface (1979)

Number 165 in the old Methodist Hymn Book is ‘Forty Days and Forty Nights’, sung to the tune Heinlein by M Herbst (1654-81). The words of verse two are:

Sunbeams scorching all the day,

Chilly dewdrops nightly spread,

Prowling beasts about Thy way,

Stones Thy pillow, earth Thy bed.

Thanks to Ken Naylor, my old music teacher, I had learnt at this point in the hymn and in my organ playing career, now non-existent, to push down all mixture tabs, fifteenths, etc., to flick up all 16 foot and loud 8 foot tabs and to remove my feet from the pedals for the first two lines of this verse (‘sunbeams scorching’). For line two I would then swoop down from Great to Choir organ, making sure that 4 and 2 foot claribel flutes were in evidence (‘chilly dewdrops’). For line three I would lift my hands up to the full Swell organ with all its reed stops connected, making at the same time sure that my feet were playing all possible passing notes while the 16 foot Posaune was pushed down (‘prowling beasts’). In line 4 I would attempt to return to the Great, this time with only 8 foot Diapasons pressed down while trying to flick up the 16 foot Posaune pedal tab and suppressing the natural tendency to go on playing intervening passing notes with my feat (‘stones, earth’).

This practical demonstration of musical affect provided me and my friends in the school choir with some amusement, especially if something went wrong with my registration plans. Madrigalisms provided me also with some mirth. While studying at school and university in Cambridge (GB), I spent large amounts of spare time at Choral Evensong in King’s College Chapel, enjoying the word painting of Byrd, Gibbons, Tomkins, Weelkes and Co. At the same time my financial situation forced me out of Elizabethanisms into the wicked world to vacation jobs in steel works, on the railway, etc. Here, through the straight and honest friendship of workmates I discovered an equally wonderful world of music at rather a late stage in my life. Joining a pop group in the early sixties, I gradually became musically bilingual with Bach, Bartók and Byrd on the one hand and the Beatles, the Stones and James Brown on the other. I found the situation confusing. Not fully understanding the attitude of music student contemporaries or of university teachers of music towards non art genres (1962-65), I found myself forced on many occasions to make musicological apologiai for pop and its modes of expression. I suppose this is where this thesis really begins. During my time in Manchester (1965-66) I discovered active musicianship to be larger outside than inside art music circles; indeed, there were so many pop groups in Manchester at that time that our band was forced to switch to a mixture of R&B, soul and jazz to get any gigs at all! I also found out that the amount of traditional music making in the homes of my teaching practice pupils had no influence whatsoever on their ability to distinguish between purely musical elements inside pop music; on the contrary there even seemed to be a slight correlation between the degree of teenage peer group identification with the extramusical trappings of commercial pop culture and the ability to distinguish between purely musical elements inside the pop genre. (cf.Tagg 1966).

After working for several years at an experimental teacher’s training college here in Göteborg, the need for developing educational material in pop became even more apparent. This thesis is therefore also the result of being put in another impossible situation: in my courses on the history of popular music (including pop), it became evident that no existing theories of music were really suitable or easily applicable to the understanding of the popular music phenomenon. Something had to be done. This thesis is a first step in an attempt to overcome this problem. In our account of analytical method we maintain that it is impossible for the musical analyst to avoid preselection of certain material and method and omission of others. We hold that ‘subjective’, ‘intuitive’ and ‘irrational’ hermeneutic thought will play an important part in this preselection process, whether the researcher like it or not. In any case, it is hoped that the brief background presentation above will suffice as a guide to the sort of norms influencing our preselection of method and material.

This thesis, presented at the Department of Musicology at Göteborg University, is a vastly expanded and re-edited version of Tagg (1978). I am indebted to my supervisor, Jan Ling, for all his help, criticism, encouragement and friendship over a number of years. A large number of people have either directly or indirectly influenced the content of this thesis and I would like to take this opportunity of thanking them all if they are not already included in the Acknowledgements.

A note on the acquisition of source material

One of the main problems facing the popular music researcher is, surprisingly enough, the question of source material. At first sight the ubiquity and omnipresence of popular music would seem to present no problems at all, and indeed, this is largely so. However, the acquisition of the original orchestral full score of the Kojak theme (abbr. OOFS and KT), which we needed for purposes of comparison, proved to be a time-consuming and difficult task. I take this liberty of telling the story of how the OOFS of the KT finally came into my hands as practical information to presumptive popular music researchers. In April 1977 I wrote to John McKellen (MCA Music, New York) asking him help me find the written version of the music to Kojak (both episode and title music). I received no reply. In June I phoned MCA Music, Svenska AB at Sweden Music house in Stockholm. They sent me a piano arrangement in A minor (Goldenberg (1975), cf.LMR). In the autumn of 1977 I wrote once again to Mr McKellen but received no reply. Thereafter I decided to keep copies of all such correspondence. I wrote two letters, dated 780201, one to Duchess Music, asking them to get in touch with Mr Goldenberg (composer of the KT), and at the same time addressed a letter to him c/o Duchess Music, asking them to forward it. No reply. 780710 I repeated the operation of 780201, enclosing a photocopy of the February letters which included questions to Mr Goldenberg about how the KT was conceived, composed, arranged, etc. At the same time I wrote also to Mr McKellen again. McKellen replied (780721) that he had forwarded my letter to Mr Goldenberg. There was no further development. I then asked a friend of a visiting Canadian musicologist to ask her Los Angeles German lecturer friend to go round to Universal City Studios and personally contact someone in its music department. I do not know who he spoke to but he reported that his contact had said rather unpleasantly that he could not give ‘two hoots’ for research (or words to that effect). (Thank you, Thomas). Having contacted the US Information Service for help in tracking down Mr. Goldenberg, I was phoned by one of their employees in late September 1978 who provided me with Mr Goldenberg’s address. I sent another letter (781008) to Mr Goldenberg’s address in Studio City, California. No reply. Becoming even more desperate, I phoned Swedish television (SR/TV) asking them for phone nos. of the MCA representatives from who they had bought Kojak. I then phoned MCA Paris and MCA London. MCA Paris (Mr Roger Cordjohn) advised me to write to the music librarian at Universal, which I did (781024). No reply. MCA London (an extremely helpful woman called Marjorie) advised me to write a letter to Mr Simons, managing director of Leeds Music, London (MCA rights in GB). This I also did (781025). I also wrote another letter (781024) to Mr Goldenberg. No reply. Mr Cyril Simons was very swift to reply (781030) and to act, for which much thanks, sending my request over to both McKellen (MCA Music, New York) and to Mr Harry Garfield, head of the music department at Universal City Studios.

With my analysis more or less complete and no replies forthcoming, I became desperate again and decided to write to the Cultural Attaché at the US Embassy in Stockholm. An employee there promised over the phone (781105) to ask Washington to cable Universal City (thank you, US Embassy). On November 7th I received a letter from Harry Garfield, head of the music department at Universal, in which he stated that Universal would be violating agreements with sub-publisher if they granted me the right to print the KT in my thesis, despite points in the Berne Convention about the flexibility of copyright law in works of a scientific nature (dissertations etc.). Mr Garfield regretted this fact and seemed willing to help. I therefore phoned the Scandinavian sub-publishers, MCA Music Svenska AB who I had spoken to 1½ years earlier on the same matter, and talked to Mr Anders Mörén. He was extremely helpful and notified me by letter (781107) that he had sent a cable the same day to Mr Garfield with the following text:

HAVE GIVEN MR PHILIP TAGG FROM GOTHENBURG, SWEDEN,

PERMISSION TO PRINT EXCERPTS FROM THE FULL ORCHESTRAL SCORE OF THE A M TITLE IN HIS DOCTOR’S THESIS STOP

PLEASE GIVE HIM EVERY SUPPORT YOU CAN STOP

REGARDS ANDERS MOREN MCA MUSIC SVENSKA AB

The same day (761107) I wrote to Mr Garfield, explaining the situation. The day after I wrote to messrs. Simons (London) and Mörén (Stockholm), thanking them for their help. The publication agreements turned out to be the following: (1) to publish the complete KT in no more than a 4 part arrangement (this is why our final transcript [abbr. FT] is in this form, not a full arrangement). (2) to publish only small extracts from the full orchestral score (the OOFS) when and if it arrived from Universal; (3) not to Publish more than 1000 copies of this thesis. Should this first edition sell out, there will be more copyright discussions.

In a letter dated 781113 Mr Harry Garfield very kindly sent me the two different orchestral versions of the KT, asking me to give copyright credits every time I quoted from the KT. This I agreed to do. (I hope I have not missed any!). I worked intensively at this comparative part of my study for a week and then returned the photocopies of the OOFS to Mr Garfield at Universal.

I would like to thank all those who helped me in the difficult task of acquiring this valuable source material on loan. At the same time I like to think of the course of events described above as a valuable lesson in how and how not to go about the acquisition of source material in popular music research. A minor fortune in telephone calls and postage costs and over thirty pages of correspondence should not be necessary conditions for the loan of 8 pages of a photocopy of a pencilled manuscript. One of my many unanswered letters to the composer of the KT, Mr William Leon Goldenberg was actually ‘returned to sender’ (‘rebuts’). All the other letters I wrote have disappeared. It is regrettable that I never got into contact with Mr Goldenberg who has, in my opinion, written an excellent title theme. This thesis is unfortunately incomplete without his contribution. However, as the reader will understand, there is not much more I could have done.

Practical Notes

1. Books, articles, publications, mimeos, manuscripts and all other verbal texts are gathered in one bibliographical appendix (bibl.). They are principally arranged in alphabetical order of author and if not name of author is available in alphabetical order of periodical, pamphlet, etc. This gathering of all written, typed and printed verbal reference material is a conscious effort on the part of the author to facilitate the reader’s checking of references. Instead of having to remember years of publication, it is obviously easier to memorise names of authors and articles. Instead of having to remember whether a particular reference is made to a publication, a manuscript or a mimeo in order to find the relevant list it is obviously easier to memorise the name of the author or that of the periodical, newspaper or pamphlet.

2. For the same reasons as in (2), above, we have gathered all references to musical works in one appendix, the list of musical references (abbr. LMR). It is obviously easier to remember the name of an artist or composer than to both remember the name and whether the music referred to is a record, tape or score.

3. Dates are abbreviated according to European standard, thus: 790313 (or 1979-03-13) means the 13th March, 1978.

4. A number of abbreviations are used in this thesis. A special list of abbreviations used in this book is included as an appendix.

 

1 Introduction

The object of this thesis is, in short, to present a method of analysing the affective content of certain types of popular music. In this process we will raise a number of questions concerning musical aesthetics and their relation to the communication process involved in the performance and reception of popular music. The main part of the thesis, however, concentrates on a detailed study of one particular piece of popular music — the signature tune to the first two series of the television programme Kojak. This detailed study has been undertaken in order to clearly show how the methods of analysis presented in this paper can be practically applied.

There are many reasons for choosing such a topic as the subject of a thesis. One reason of a very general nature is an often expressed need for a greater understanding of the role of music in contemporary mass media. Unfortunately there is no room here for a historical account for the reasons behind the present existence of the music industry, or any other mass media industries for that matter, but it should be made clear that the dramatic growth of popular music to present day proportions in Western capitalist society has not been matched by an equivalent parallel growth in music education at any level to study the nature, content and function of this vast quantity of music.

Obviously, this unequal state of affairs must be redressed if musicology wishes to retain its role as the discipline best suited to explain the nature and function of music in society. Moreover, if the general education of music is to remain as a compulsory subject on school curricula, it must also be redirected towards discussion, theory and practice of musical phenomena directly relevant to the lives of the majority of pupils in our schools. Certain hesitant measures have been taken in this direction, but there are many obstacles to be negotiated before musical education, part of the public sector of cultural influence, can catch up with the cultural influences exerted on the populace at large by the private sector via mass media.

One of the main problems involved in changing the direction of music teaching is that the music teacher must have experience, skills and knowledge in totally new areas of musical education. This means that the training of music teachers must be reformed so as to include not only comparatively respectable genres, such as jazz and folk music, but also subcultural phenomena such as rock, pop and dance music, not to mention film music, music in advertising, Muzak, signature tunes, musical signals, etc. Reforms of music teacher training syllabus designed to include some of these latter aspects of popular music have been initiated in Sweden, and courses dealing with various aspects of popular music are also offered at certain universities in the USA, Canada, both Germanies, the USSR and several other socialist countries. In Great Britain, at least, it would appear that popular music studies at university level are restricted to optional courses at only one or two departments.

An important aspect in the formation of music teachers seems to be the ability to analyse and describe popular music and its function. However, the skills inherent in such an ability presuppose the existence of relevant and serviceable models for such analysis. The need for a more developed theoretical superstructure applicable to popular music, and including such aspects as history, theory, analysis and aesthetics, in fact any angle of study capable of describing or explaining the phenomenon, would seem to be both widespread and apparent among music teacher trainees and music teachers alike. This need will hardly be likely to decrease considering both the educational reforms already mentioned and the increasing dilemma of art music in Western capitalist society. The type of reorientation we are advocating here should, moreover, be put into proportion to social and economic aspects in the development of popular music.

Considering the figures relating to sales of musical product in Sweden which predict that each Swede (old age pensioners, babies and deaf people included) will spend on average over $80 per person during 1978 on various types of musical hardware and software, and considering the preponderance of different types of popular music in relation to jazz, classical and folk genres, not only measure in terms of individual ownership but also in terms of air play per listener over radio and television, it seems odd that such a large branch of industry should have so largely escaped the eagle eye of increased consumer consciousness. This tendency is, moreover, by no means peculiar to Sweden, since similar patterns of popular musical taste can be generally found throughout the industrialised capitalist world. However, although methods of analysing popular music will obviously never be able to give concrete content descriptions of ‘musical product’ in the same way as, for example, domestic products such as hair spray, shampoo or deodorant can be tested and analysed (this being due to obvious differences in the nature of the two types of commodity), it does not follow that efficient methods of popular music analysis will be totally incapable of creating greater awareness of the affective and ideological content of the musical product being ‘consumed’.

It would therefore seem plausible that more efficient methods of analysis, capable of explaining and verbally concretising important parts of popular music message, could fulfil an important function in music education, at least in industrialised nations. This could be true, not only in a strictly educational context, but also in connection with cultural politics, for example in the discussion of relations between existing national popular cultures and transnational corporations in the music business.

2 Popular music and affect

2.1 ‘Popular music’

Before discussing the historical and theoretical background behind the analytical procedures which are to be presented, we must clearly delimit two terms which figure in the title of this thesis: ‘popular music’ and ‘affect’. These terms will be employed throughout the thesis and must therefore be clarified not only with reference to their meaning in this particular context, but also as historical concepts.

2.1.1 The historical position of popular music

Fig. 1. ‘Popular music’: historical flowchart

The historical position of popular music can be expressed in diagrammatic form (fig. 1, p.29). The growth of popular music can to a large extent be considered as concurrent with the transition from small to large scale industrialisation in early capitalism. Mass production and mass distribution are conditions sine qua non for the existence of popular music. This does not mean to say that such terms as ‘music of the masses’ are synonymous with ‘popular music’ (Lloyd, 1969:79-86). Although certain melodies, such as those found as variants in the Dives and Lazarus family (folk music), or a song by C.M. Bellman such as Nå Skruva Fiolen (art music with popular appeal), could be thought of as ‘music of the masses’ in the sense that the songs were known among the ‘masses’; neither can be considered as popular music, at least not in a strictly historical sense. This is because such pieces of music reached their popularity a long time before the advent of the sort of ‘cultural market place’ in which the transmitter (i.e. author / composer / publisher / musician / producer, etc.) and the receiver (i.e. a buying public) evolved as more distinguishable entities in the musical communication process. Thus, the first distinction to be made concerning popular music is that it is generally produced and distributed on a mass basis in the type of market in which the buyer(s) of a given musical product (i.e. a ‘consuming’ public) do not tend to be the same individuals as those producing, performing or selling the same product.

The transition from either folk or art music into popular music can obviously not be determined as a particular point in time. Art, Folk and Popular Music can exist side by side, but popular music cannot appear before the economic forces in society are such as to make possible its existence. Typical requirements for such a development seem to be: 1) disintegration of a feudal or semi-feudal rural economy; 2) transition from handicraft and bartering to mass production and capitalist economy; 3) wage labour and division of labour even in the field of music with the consequent division of musical communication into distinct producing and consuming groups; 4) technological advances capable of spreading musical product in large numbers. In this context broadsides can be seen as representing a sort of transitional era: while words to songs could be distributed in large numbers, thanks to printing techniques and verbal literacy, the actual music for the printed lyrics was still spread orally through references to well-known tunes because of contemporary musical ‘illiteracy’ and the costs of music printing. In any case it is dubious to consider the broadside as a form of popular music since the tune which carried the mass produced and mass distributed words was not itself mass produced or distributed, appearing rather in the form of numerous individual melodic variants and arrangements and not even needing to be sung to the same tune.

If we consider the broadside as an important precursor to the age of popular music in Europe and the United States in that song lyrics came to be mass produced and distributed, then the advent of mass produced sheet music must be considered as the first important medium for mass production and distribution of popular music per se. However, even though certain aspects of the music could now be marketed on a mass basis in industrialised society, it appears unlikely that greater proportions of a given population would have much use for this new mass medium since musical literacy should not be regarded as having been more widespread during the hegemony of the music publisher (1890-1950) than in earlier times.

Popular song, distributed in the mass medium of sheet music for voice with piano accompaniment, was, however, severely limited in that a number of important musical parameters of expression, such as phrasing, timbre, vocal technique, instrumentation, ‘sound’, etc., were not storable in the medium. Such technical limitations may naturally also be regarded as artistic advantages in that any given popular song, distributed in the sheet music medium, reached its audience via a number of different versions by various dance bands and artists, although film versions of songs, renditions on 78s and AM airplay may have contributed towards a certain degree of uniformity of performance. This type of uniformity can, however, in no way be compared to the present situation in which only one version of a given pop song is really admissible, and where the merits of a cover version are determined by such criteria as how like the ‘real’ recording the cover is. Practically everyone will remember a typical evergreen from the heyday of Tin Pan Alley, such as Blue Moon (Rodgers, 1934), as a song in its own right, whereas practically no-one remembers any particular recording of the song. The name of the artist was, in other words, of comparatively small interest since no ‘ultimate’ version of such songs really existed. On the other hand: hardly anyone would dare to cover Abba’s version of Waterloo in the same way as Blue Moon. This means that the mass medium of sheet music for voice with piano accompaniment, despite its printed form, allowed for a number of variants of one song whereas modern stereo records really only permit themselves.

2.1.2 Popular music and genre typology

Popular music cannot be defined as one given musical genre or group of genres. A typically ‘classical’ piece such as Tchaikovsky’s B$ minor piano concerto (first movement) is more often used as popular than as art music. When this well-known concerto, Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor (BMW 565), Mozart’s Eine kleine Nachtmusik (K 525), Rossini’s Overture to William Tell, or some other classical ‘pop number’ is used as a signature tune, is played as a three minute request, or is in any other way divorced from its classical, ecclesiastical, aristocratic, haut bourgeois or art music concert context, then it is to be regarded as popular music because of the change in function and mode of distribution. Conversely, when the Mahavishnu Orchestra, Gentle Giant or similar exponents of ‘symphonic’ rock music perform for their fans, it is questionable whether such a musical occasion should be termed ‘popular’ since the sociomusical function involved includes such typically sociocultural art music phenomena as peer group identification connected with notions of ‘aesthetic superiority’.

However, when Pink Floyd are played on BBC Radio 3 (Palmer, 1976: 21), they can still be regarded as popular musicians despite that particular channel’s classical format. There are three main reasons for this: (1) even BBC’s radio 3 is a mass medium; (2) Pink Floyd exhibit typical popular music traits in their music despite BBC programming; (3) a radio format which avoids ‘light music’, ‘easy listening’ genres or Unterhaltungsmusik need not preclude popular music from its air waves, since popular music is not synonymous with easy listening or entertainment functions. News jingles, background music for television documentaries, Muzak, for example, despite their popular music function, mode of production, distribution, etc. are not designed to entertain. Moreover, entertainment and easy listening functions are often found in folk and art music, although this does not mean to say that these functions are not more common in the popular music forms of production and distribution, or that entertainment and easy listening are not the most common functions of popular music.

Popular music can be delimited but not defined as a term on the basis of the socioeconomic structure in which it exists. Popular music can exist in both capitalist and socialist society, although it will live under different conditions and develop in different ways. However, popular music cannot exist in preindustrial society.

2.1.3 The properties of popular music:

a summary

1. Popular music is a phenomenon found in industrialised society and can neither exist in pre-industrial society nor without an industrial proletariat.

2. Popular music is created and performed by professionals or semi-professionals who do not necessarily have any traditional form of musical education.

3. The composers and authors of popular music may be unknown to their public but they are not anonymous in the same way as composers of folk music.

4. Popular music as a term should not be confused with musique populaire or música populár, both of which correspond more closely with the English term ‘folk music’. It has more in common with the term mesomúsica (Vega, 1966). Popular music should not be confused with the term ‘pop music’, which is taken to mean a whole complex of musical styles, mostly contained within the framework of popular music from the 1960s.

5. Popular music has no pronounced or clear theoretical, philosophical or aesthetic superstructure. However, writing and performing practices are well established.

6. Popular music cannot be defined as a term by means of intramusical analysis, and may use the same compositional techniques as the art and folk musics to be found in the same fundamental common culture.

7. Popular music is sold in capitalist countries according to the laws of ‘free enterprise’. In socialist countries its distribution is subject to different considerations.

8. Popular music is not to be confused with ‘easy listening’, ‘light music’, Trivialmusik, Unterhaltungsmusik, etc. Although entertainment and easy listening may be very common features of popular music, they are not the only ones.

9. Popular music depends for its existence on means of mass production and distribution.

10. Popular music is, in short, all music which is neither art music nor folk music.

2.1.4 Folk music, art music, popular music: an axiomatic triangle

The tenth point in the above list of the general properties of popular music, it is admitted, warrants further discussion. To clarify the point we shall therefore attempt a working definition of the two terms folk music and art music in order to narrow down the implications of the negative definition: ‘popular music is all music which is neither art nor folk music’. Our starting point for this definition will be more readily comprehended by the establishment of an axiomatic triangle in which all three categories involved, i.e. art, folk and popular music, may be considered to exhibit traits which, for the purposes of general simplification, may be regarded as making any one of the three categories different from any of the others. These traits are not of an intramusical nature (although certain generalisations could possibly be made even in this direction) but rather concern extramusical aspects such as social function, mode of production, storage, distribution and consumption (see fig. 2, p.35).

We shall therefore generally define folk music as music produced both by and for groups of individuals who, in a socioeconomically stratified society, do not belong to the privileged classes, and who, in ‘primitive’ society, constitute the totality or a non-antagonistic part of that society. Authors of folk music tend to be anonymous and simultaneously are or have been an inseparable part of the community for which the music was conceived, out of which its conception has arisen and in which it is performed. There tends to be an unclear ‘division of labour’ between transmitter and receiver of folk music, and no other inherent form of storage appears to be in common use apart from the brain cells of members of the community. Moreover, there appears to be no inherent form of mass distribution, the only means of communication being oral transmission. Folk music does not depend on a monetary economy for its existence, nor do there exist theories or aesthetics of folk music written by members of the folk community.

Fig. 2. Folk music, art music, popular music: an axiomatic triangle

C h a r a c t e r i s t i c Folk Music Art Music Popular Music

Produced and

transmitted by primarily professionals l l

primarily amateurs l

Mass

distribution usual ž l

unusual l l

 

Main mode of storage

and distribution oral transmission l

musical notation l

recorded sound l

Main 20th-century mode of financing production and distribution independent of monetary economy l

public funding l

‘free’ enterprise l

 

Type of society in which the category of music mostly occurs nomadic or agrarian l

agrarian or industrial l

industrial l

Written theory

and aesthetics uncommon l l

common l

Composer /

Author anonymous l

non-anonymous l l

 

If folk music is distributed in the form of musical notation or as recorded ‘reperformable’ sound, the new context in which this ‘reperformance’ occurs must be considered as negating a number of the intrinsic social functions which have served as a basis for our definition of the term ‘folk music’. This means that while we may categorise what we hear when listening to a UNESCO recording of African tribal music at home or in the classroom as ‘folk music’, we should be clear that what we hear was folk music only in the situation in which it was recorded and not in its new context, since the ‘reperformance’ situation meets none of the requirements of ‘unclear’ division of labour between producer and consumer’, ‘oral transmission’, ‘no monetary economy’, etc. Whether the new function of this African tribal music (no longer merely African tribal music) should be filed under ‘art music’ or ‘popular music’ is another matter which, for reasons of clarity and space, cannot be dealt with here.

We shall define art music as music primarily produced by paid, non-anonymous professionals and secondarily by amateurs both with specialist training, for distribution chiefly to those groups who, in a stratified society can afford to finance such musical production and education. These social groups may in general be considered as inheritors and upholders (sometimes as usurpers) of an official musical tradition (canon) cultivated by individuals belonging to social couches able to exert control over the economic means of production in society, or by those who, financed by these couches or by the state, may be regarded as upholders of positions of influence in the official sociocultural sphere. The transmitters of art music may, but need not, belong to the above mentioned social couche, whereas the receivers of art music tend to have, or aspire to, such a social habitat. The primary media for transmission of art music are notation and paid performances (e.g. concerts, operas) at which clearly defined roles of listener and performer may be observed. As a secondary phenomenon we may also observe amateur music making in small groups (chamber music function). Up until the late nineteenth century art music survived under the economic conditions imposed by the system of ‘free’ enterprise. During the twentieth century, however, art music has chiefly been financed by public funds. Writings dealing with the theory, history and aesthetics of art music are in great abundance. The reader may find the next diagram (fig. 3, p.38) of help in visualising important points of discrepancy between the three categories of music included in our axiomatic triangle.

It should be clear from the above discussion that popular music may be distinguished from art and folk music in several ways. It shares certain traits in common with art music, others with folk music, while on a number of counts it differs from both. This does not mean that the reader can now use this pattern for effectuating instant categorisation of the Blue Danube waltz, Bartók’s Dance Suite, Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition as recorded by Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Farnaby’s Loth to Depart, a Sousa march, the Wedding March from Lohengrin played on a Hammond organ at a low church ceremony, or any other example of hybrids between folk, art and popular music idiom, function and mode of distribution. One must first consider the relationship of transmitter to receiver, the mode of production, distribution and consumption, and the social function of the music. Even then our axiomatic triangle should rather be considered as a guideline than as a hard and fast pattern of categorisation. However, the particularities of popular music and how these affect our approach to studying the content and function of this third point in our triangle will be clearer if we now proceed to delineate in greater detail some of the general social characteristics of popular music.

2.1.5 The general social characteristics of popular music

The general social characteristics of popular music will be better understood if we first, for the sake of comparison, describe the situation for art and folk music in terms of the social identity of the two parties (transmitter and receiver) involved in the musical communication process.

Both transmitter and receiver in the folk and art music communication processes belong to relatively homogenous sociocultural groups. This state of affairs is apparent as far as the communication of folk music inside a nomadic or agrarian community is concerned, and reasonably clear even when folk music functions as an ethnic or social sub-culture in an industrialised society. Similar observations can be made in connection with art music in socially stratified Western industrialised communities: the majority of radio listening statistics (‘demographics’) would seem to show that the social homogeneity of listeners to radio stations with a ‘classical’ format is quite evident. In addition to this tendency, we should not omit to mention the social homogeneity of certain types of concert and opera audiences.

However, this pattern of social homogeneity does not seem to be so generally applicable to popular music. Since popular music, at least in the capitalist world, must be sold as much as possible to as many as possible, it seems reasonable to assume that the ‘language’ of popular music must be comprehensible to listeners with widely differing types of cultural experience. One could say that the socially heterogeneous nature of groups on the receiving end of the popular music communication process would tend to favour the transmission of musical message in a sort of musical lingua franca. Now this does not mean that the affective content of popular music needs to be truncated or automatically considered ‘inferior’ to the affective content of folk or art music; it is merely a question of encoding the musical message in such a way as to be decodable by a more heterogeneous audience. Of course, it is clear that certain types of popular music are peculiar to extremely homogenous social groups with distinctly definable behavioural and other cultural norms: such tendencies apply to punk rock, Swedish ‘progressive’ rock, white gospel, and other such genres. Moreover, the format system of US-American commercial radio, based on the assumption that musical taste functions as a reliable indicator of the audience’s sociocultural group membership, seems to underline this objection. Nevertheless, it seems important to observe the comparative social ubiquity and communicative generality of a number of popular music functions. We can, as examples of such functions, mention signature tunes, sound track music, international ‘middle-of-the-road’ (MoR) pop of the Eurovision song contest type, national anthems, military marches, Muzak, etc.

Having thus far sketched some of the more important properties of popular music, let us now consider certain aspects relating to its analysis. Obviously, any musical analysis must for practical reasons be based on the music being available in a stored state. We will therefore now proceed to discuss how the use of different ‘media of musical storage’ can influence the nature of musical analysis.

Fig. 3. Parameters of musical expression storable in mass media

mass medium

information broad-sides piano arr. full score 78 rpm mono hi-fi stereo hi-fi video hi-fi

text

melodic line

pulse/tempo

dynamics

key/register, etc.

harmony

form/structure

periodicity

duration

instrumentation

timbre

interpretation, phrasing, etc.

spatial acoustic

visual aspects

 

2.1.6 The analysis of popular music and a critique of notational centricity

So far we have been concerned with a delimitation of the term ‘popular music’. We have seen (fig. 2, p.35) how it differs from the art and folk categories of music in a variety of ways, including its main mode of storage and distribution. This aspect is of great importance when we consider what effect this may have on the approach to musical analysis, since, as we shall argue, stored sound must be available for an analysis, and analysis should be based on the currently used medium of storage relevant to the music being studied. This will be clearer if we view the diagram (fig. 3, p.38) showing the technological stages of development in the recording, storing and distribution of musical material.

In figure 3 (page 38) we suggest that more and more musical information can be stored in the newer media, be mass produced and mass distributed in that more and more parameters of musical expression can be catered for technologically. In this context it should be recalled that the rise of popular music has been most noticeable since the advent of vinyl records and transistorised hardware in the early fifties, and that this points to the obvious choice of these means of storage and distribution as a source and basis for the analysis of popular music. However, the fact remains that even in the analysis of popular music there is, as we shall see later, a tendency to use notationally recordable parameters of musical expression as a basis for the description and analysis of pieces of popular music. This tendency, which we call ‘notational centricity’, needs firstly to be explained in a historical context.

2.1.6.1 Art music and notation

The tradition of musical notation in Western society can, in general terms, be regarded as having started in connection with liturgical functions in the early Christian church. Not only should the word of God but also music designed for his worship be as unchanging and eternal as the church herself. In order to meet this requirement a musical storage system would obviously be needed which could accurately preserve the music of God for posterity without relying on an oral tradition which was clearly less dependable. Due to the low level of musical literacy among the vast majority of the population in feudal and early capitalist society, one may assume that the distribution of written music rarely found its way outside monasteries, churches and the courts of the monarchy and aristocracy. For similar reasons we may also assume that early music publishing ventures, for example those connected with such names as Petrucci, Attaignant, Tallis and Byrd, despite the fact that these paved the way for increased demand amongst the rising bourgeoisie for saleable music, did not in fact distribute their product in proportions by any means comparable to those reached by even a moderately popular gramophone record in the nineteen-sixties. In both the case of feudal manuscript copying and the early music publishing ventures mentioned above, we are concerned with modes of storage in which musical ideas were ‘frozen’, so to speak, on parchment or paper in order to be performed as written, allowing only such modifications to be made as would be permitted by current performance practice. The music thus ‘frozen’ and ‘fixed’ on paper was based to a large extent on the musical tradition of a social and cultural elite, a tradition which in many aspects differed from the contemporary folk idiom. It therefore seems natural to assume that notational techniques should be developed to record the tonal language of the musically literate rather than to record the music of groups in society whose idiom could not be contained within the confines of a foreign notational system and who were themselves in any case unable to decipher the signs of that system.

The vast majority of the classical repertoire which acts as the cornerstone of art music in Western society today was, in other words, written to function in a society quite different from our own, long before the advent of cut-price albums and stereo packages. Cantatas, symphonies oratorios, quartets, etc. were stored either as manuscript copies or were printed in very small numbers. However, the rise of the bourgeoisie in nineteenth century capitalist society led, amongst other things, to a marked increase in the demand for saleable music, and with music publishers expanding to meet this demand, the new ruling class was able to profile itself as musically cultured and literate, buying piano sonatinas, Lieder and arrangements of symphonies for piano duet, while the notationally illiterate proletariat bought music hall tickets and penny ballads. Bourgeois historicism, nationalist romanticism and the teaching of music in compulsory schools also played an important part in establishing musical notation as the most acceptable means of storing and transmitting music. It was, moreover, the only technically viable medium of storage and distribution until the advent of the electrically recorded 78 r.p.m. discs in the late nineteen twenties. It is therefore natural that traditional musical analysis, with its roots in the late nineteenth century Europe should use the only available means of storing music at the time — notation — as its main source.

2.1.6.2 Folk music and notation

The long-standing tradition of using musical notation as the only means of storing art music tended to lead towards a certain fixation on this medium, even when dealing with non-art music. This fixation we have called ‘notational centricity’.

Now, the folk music of times prior to the advent of the gramophone, i.e. during the rise of the European art music tradition and of notation as its storage and distribution medium, would not be stored or distributed in any other form than via oral transmission, notable exceptions notwithstanding. This is one of the reasons why the same piece of folk music could appear in practically any number of variants, the oral tradition preferring to assimilate such given frameworks according to current social and cultural needs rather than to adhere to mere repetition of given musical material in different renditions of the same song or even in the context of one single performance (Tarasti, 1978:42-43). Such a tradition does not clearly lend itself to containment within the boundaries of traditional musical notation, nor does such notation lend itself to the recording of a large number of parameters of musical expression of intrinsic importance to the folk idiom. Whereas the notation of art music was primarily adapted to accurately record the most important parameters of musical expression inside its own idiom, such as part writing, tempered pitch, diatonic harmony, etc. which are rarely of prime importance in the majority of folk music styles, it must to a large extent be regarded as a highly inefficient means of graphically recording a number of important musical factors in the most folk music idioms. This fact has led musicologists such as Lomax (1960) and Bengtsson (1974) to devise systems of graphically recording such aspects as ornamentation, rhythmic license, polyrhythmic and periodic complexities, vocal and instrumental timbre, non-standard pitch, non-diatonic melodic material, etc. However, such transcriptions are often difficult to decipher, even for the notationally literate, and obviously are of greater interest as documentation and source material than as a design for performance.

Notational centricity could often lead to dire consequences in the early days of folk song collection and pioneer ethnomusicologists such as Hornbostel, O. Andersson, Sachs, Bartók and Kodály were amongst the first to point out the insufficiencies of traditional musical notation as a reliable method in the collection of folk music, using instead first the phonograph and later the gramophone. In the USA, early recordings of folk music by Peer, Lomax, Hammond and others were to pave the way for the explosive development in the distribution of unwritten recorded music, a conditio sine qua non for the existence of popular music as we know it today.

2.1.6.3 Popular music and notation

The early recordings of US-American folk music mentioned above are an important turning point in the history of music. This was the first time music became available in a stored form which at the same time was ‘decipherable’ by the musically ‘illiterate’. Whereas ‘people’s music’, whether in the form of folk music or certain types of popular music, had previously been ‘uncodable’ on many counts, it now became both ‘cipherable’ and ‘decipherable’ on a mass basis, especially after the advent of vinyl records and the introduction of transistors, printed circuits and light metal alloys into the production of hardware in the 1950s. These technical developments in the recording and distribution of popular music, combined with shifts in the class structure of twentieth century industrialised society (which cannot, for reasons of space, be further discussed in this thesis) clarify to some degree certain inherent differences between the nature of art music and popular music regarding their historically natural media of storage and distribution.

The hegemony of the music publisher in the popular music industry was broken by a long and complicated series of events starting with the arrival of radio and electric 78 r.p.m. records in the nineteen twenties, continuing into the competitive battles between Hollywood and radio (which resulted in the infamous BMI/ASCAP war) and culminating in the age of vinyl and transistors. Before the final demise of the music publishing hegemony in the fifties, musical notation obviously played an important part in the storage and distribution of popular music. However, although arrangements of popular song for voice and piano may be used as the basis of analysing popular music actually performed by such a combination, it should be remembered that the vast majority of popular song was orchestrally arranged, and that it reached the general public via recordings of various orchestral versions which themselves were never distributed via musical notation on a mass basis. It should also be recalled that even before the advent of electrically recorded 78 r.p.m. discs it was common place to include the name of a well-known artist who had recorded the song, along with particulars about the record label, on the actual sheet music cover. Even in heyday of popular music publishing before the real breakthrough in the distribution of distinctly African-American genres, at a time when musical notation was still able to store and record in a reasonably efficient manner, it should be remembered that vocal and instrumental interpretation of such graphically recorded music was a far more important part of performance practice than faithful rendition of the symbols on the printed page. This means that although sales of sheet music may have been the most important source of income to the music industry, with hit songs sometimes selling millions of copies, we should nevertheless consider the contemporary gramophone recording as a more important source for musical analysis of evergreens and big band music than the sheet music copy in arrangement for voice and piano, bearing especially in mind that the sale of records of the same song combined with the airplay given to such recordings together reached much larger groups of consumers than the total number of sold sheet music copies.

If the difference between printed and performed musical message was considerable even before the definitive commercial breakthrough of African-American genres, it was of course much greater afterwards. Originally part of different rural subcultures, US country, blues and gospel dialects turned into urban cultural phenomena, finally to become — through various acculturation processes too complicated to discuss in this context — the idiomatic basis for large quantities of popular music throughout the world. One of the more important points in this development was the advent of rock ’n’ roll in the nineteen fifties which occurred simultaneously with the arrival of vinyl records and transistorised hardware mentioned above; this meant that problems of storage and of mass distribution via musical notation became well-nigh irrelevant.

The observations which we made with reference to the unsuitability of art music notation both as a means of storing and distributing folk music, and as a basis for the analysis of such music, may also be applied to the realm of popular music, not only because of the minor importance played by notation in the distribution of popular music to the listening public, but also because of the comparatively improvisatory and notationally problematic character of such music, especially that which shows clear Afro-American influences. This phenomenon is exemplified in examples 1 and 2 (p.44).

Ex.1. Sequence of standard rock cliches in piano reduction

It is plain to see that this sequence of standard rock harmonies and rhythms looks far more complicated than it sounds: downbeat anticipations cause a number of notational problems, and even stock-in-trade modal rock harmony changes, such as the E – G – D – A sequence cited above, can hardly be regarded as comfortably transcribable with so many accidentals making it look as if the music was in a permanent state of modulatory flux. We might also ask ourselves how blue notes should be written, or whether the key signature of a Chicago blues in E should contain the standard four sharps when the blues harp plays in A and the melodic vocabulary includes both g8 and g#, both b$ and b8.

Transcription is even more difficult when writing out passages for electric guitar.

Ex.2. Hendrix (1967): part of guitar solo in ‘Red House’ on Are You Experienced?

This Hendrix solo looks complicated as it stands, but it should be pointed out that neither fuzz nor wah-wah have been accounted for in the transcription, and that thus far no established practice yet exists for the notation of these two important and musically expressive sound treatment techniques, nor for the transcription of phasing, compressing, double tracking, tape delay, reverb, panning, etc.

2.1.6.4 Conclusions

It should be clear from the preceding discussion that traditional musical notation is neither conceived for nor specially suited to the storage and transmission of many types of either folk or popular music any more then the Roman alphabet was designed to record the phonemes of Russian or Vietnamese. Traditional notation can, however, be utilised at a second stage in the detailed analysis of popular music in order to visualise for the reader certain important aspects of the sonic process and the individual units of musical code contained therein. Traditional musical notation should, on the other hand, never be used as the chief basis for the analysis of popular music since it cannot encode such important parameters of musical expression as interpretational license, timbre, and vocal technique, not to mention such factors as acoustical environment and electronic sound treatment. It would therefore seem natural to use sources of stored sound, such as records, tapes and cassettes, as the obvious starting point for the analysis of popular music, not only because these sources are in so much greater abundance than written ones but also because popular music is, for the most part, conceived, produced for, distributed and consumed through these media. In other words, while a score may be regarded as the historically natural way of recording a work in the classical art music repertoire, and may thereby be used as the natural starting point for the analysis of such music, we should regard the use of a historically natural storage medium of popular music as an equally natural starting point for the analysis of such music.

If we follow this principle we shall increase our chances of being able to take into consideration all relevant parameters of expression in popular music and in our analysis thus increase the likelihood of being able to interpret its musical message. Such interpretation can, when conducted in a solely subjective fashion, be a risky business, and the formalist tradition of musical analysis tends to regard such hermeneutic interpretation of musical message as highly questionable. However, these objections, to be discussed later in greater detail, should be put into a historical context, since ‘autonomous’, ‘non-referential’, formalist musical criticism must either be regarded as a sort of historical parenthesis or as a reaction against the normative aesthetics of the baroque Affektenlehre which may be considered, in short, to have sought to arrange individual items of musical message into compartments with verbal labels referring to various states of human affective experience. As we are using the term ‘affect’ in this thesis, it would seem necessary to attempt a definition of this word. This in turn first requires a description of ‘affect’ as a historical term, with particular reference to its use in the baroque era.

2.2 ‘Affect’

Up to this point we have chiefly been concerned with a description of the general characteristics of popular music, traditional musical notation and the somewhat antagonistic relationship between the two. We have, moreover, on several occasions spoken of the ‘emotive content of music’, ‘musical message’ and so forth. It would therefore seem expedient to delineate more clearly what is meant by such expressions as ‘emotion’, ‘affect’ and ‘affection’. We have also inferred that traditional musical analysis may tend to suffer from the effects of notational centricity, and we will later discuss how this can lead either to over-generalisations about the communication of musical affect or to a complete avoidance of the matter altogether. In this context we should therefore restate that the formalist tradition of musical analysis and criticism must be seen as a relatively recent phenomenon, with its roots partly in the intradisciplinary positivism of the eighteenth century, partly in ideological aspects of nineteenth century society. The most notable of referential musical superstructures to be ousted by Hanslickean formalism was the baroque Theory of Affects. Its relevance to the study in hand will be clearer from the following account.

2.2.1 Baroque theories of affect

We have already mentioned the tendency of baroque Affektenlehre to compartmentalise music into individual figures with particular affective extramusical designates. We do not intend here to exemplify, let alone account for such compositional techniques as hypostasis, cyclosis, epizeuxis, saltus duriusculus, exclamatio, etc., and their affective meaning; we shall content ourselves with stating the existence of musikalisch-rhetorische Figuren (Schmitz 1955) and with a general substantiation of our view on the nature of this tradition.

Lang (1963:430-446) points out that rationalism in the baroque era sought in music the ‘imitation of nature’, not as the programmatic mirroring (mimesis/mimhsiV) or reflection (Wiederspieglung) of concrete sounds, but as the translation into music of the ‘temper, disposition or frame of mind, passions and mental reactions characteristic of man’. Lang then accounts for Kircher’s theories of the constitutio temperamenti, which concerns the personal emotional characteristics of individual listeners and their preference for certain moods. Following a short summary of ideas found in Heinichen and Brossard, Lang (1963:436) concludes:

‘We are dealing here with the conception and classification of music.... which attempts to range the musical phenomena according to established laws of evaluation and appraisal. The measure was supplied by the doctrine of the affections, the affections being identified with the content, and their provocation being considered the sole aim and purpose of the music.’

This interpretation of ideas behind the baroque theories of affect seems to be shared by Blom (1954), Schmitz (1955) and Eppstein. Eppstein (1975:40) states:

‘Seventeenth century theorists underline that affect could not only be “produced” (in the music) but also directly influence the listener’.

Blom’s definition of Affektenlehre, which he translates as ‘The Doctrine of Emotional Expression’, differs from the opinions of Lang and Eppstein not on a factual basis, but in the addition of an interesting value judgement on the phenomenon he is defining: the doctrine of affect, Blom (1954:) states,

‘classifies musical effects used to express particular emotions, such as sorrow, joy, languor, passion, ate, and thus inevitably tends to freeze them into stereotyped forms. (my italics)

It is not our opinion that the existence of musical stereotypes results from theories which classify such stereotypes but rather that systems classifying stereotypes presuppose the previous existence of stereotypes to theorise upon. It seems that Blom is expressing the view of the traditional art music critics and their tendency towards musical formalism which does not seem to account for the idea that it is not the actual use of affective stereotypes but how such stereotypes are used which make ‘frozen’ or ‘unfrozen’ forms of music. However, despite Blom’s questionable value judgement, his short definition does in fact reflect some of the most important traits in one of the main exponents of baroque affect theory — Mattheson. According to Eppstein, Mattheson characterises the use of certain instruments, intervals, tonalities and even of given types of structural technique for entire movements, thereby underlining the importance of the static nature of musical affect in baroque music. Now, whether or not we find the classification of musical ideas according to Affektenlehre ‘pseudo-scientific’ and ‘absurd’, the fact still remains that attempts were in fact made during the baroque era to describe the emotive content of music, even in treatises of a more intramusical nature.

It would of course be injudicious to uproot the baroque theory of affect from its social, cultural and historical setting and apply it mechanistically to present day popular music, since it was characterised, as Lang and Zoltai have pointed out, by a number of evaluative and normative considerations which would prove irrelevant, if not detrimental, when applied to the intrinsically ephemeral nature of large quantities of popular music. Therefore, when the interpretation of message in popular music is undertaken in this dissertation, the observations made will not be considered universal or absolute but rather relative; i.e. considerations will be largely contained within the social and cultural framework and function relevant to the musical language and musical work in question.

2.2.2 Etymology and meaning of ‘affect’

The German word Affekt and the Italian affetto, adapted into French and English as affect or affection, can be traced back to the Latin word affectus, past participle of the verb afficere which has various meanings relevant to our subject: ‘to influence, to work upon, to affect’. The past participle passive (affectus) seems to have been commonly in use meaning ‘affected by, afflicted by, influenced by’.

All these meanings share a common denominator: something or someone brings about a change in state on something or someone else. This sort of non-specified change is the most usual meaning of the English verb to affect, but has been narrowed down in meaning to designate change of a specifically emotional nature in the noun affection and the adjective affective. Normal usage of the French adjective affectif means ‘qui concerne les états de plaisir ou de douleur’, and the English word affective is described as meaning ‘of the affections or emotions’. However, affection has, in current usage, an even more particular meaning: ‘sentiment tendre qui attache à quelqu’un amitié, tendresse, amour’ and ‘goodwill, love’.

Due to the particularisation in meaning of the word affection from having signified a general change in emotional state (the baroque usage of the word, as found in Hutcheson, for example)83 into its present, narrower area of designation, we choose instead to utilise the word affect to describe the creation, state and change of any emotion, and will thereby be employing the term in a similar way to that found in early psychological theory.

2.2.3 Affect as a psychological term

Let us simplify matters first: humans experience affect when feelings are aroused by external (physical or psychological) stimuli. Such affect need not be shown but an emotion, aroused in the same way, is shown. This might seem rather an academic distinction but it is important in the context of ‘musical affect’ for two main reasons. (1) Since the experiences of listening to music do not necessarily result in forms of behaviour exhibiting what the listener is actually feeling in response to the music, we must be aware that such experiences need not be further communicated to anyone else and may thus be considered as ‘internalised’ experiences. (2) These reactions which do not result in communicative behaviour are referred to in an internalised form so that not only the response to the musical stimulus but also the stimulus itself will be experienced as an inextricable entity. Thus, the only way of relating to the listening experience which does not result in any communicative behaviour, will be by relating to the stimulus, not as the cause of the experience but as the experience itself. We may therefore speak of musical affect, but hardly of ‘musical emotion’ if we are referring to all types of musical experience related to human feelings and to the stimuli causing such experience, since emotion must result in observable communicative behaviour, and we are hardly likely to find ‘behaviour’ in the physical sonic object whose affective code we intend to analyse.

We base these arguments on a number of interesting thoughts expounded by Meyer (1956). These may be summarised as follows: [1] the total set of all emotional (communicative) behaviour can be included in the larger set of all affective behaviour (not necessarily communicative); [2] the more intense affective behaviour is, the more automatic it tends to be; the more automatic it tends to be, the less differentiated it tends to be. This would seem to imply that intense affective experience would be incommunicable since it will be undifferentiated (e.g. shaking and trembling — tremolando — in situations as different as fright and joy) and thereby indistinguishable (§6.1.2, p.158 ff.). However, as Meyer (1956:18-19) points out [3]:

‘the affective experience, as distinguished from affect per se, includes an awareness and cognition of a stimulus situation which always involves particular responding individuals and specific stimuli’... ‘Thus while affects... are in themselves undifferentiated, affective experience is differentiated because it involves awareness and cognition of a stimulus situation which itself is differentiated. The affective states for which we have names are grouped and named because of similarities of the stimulus situation, not because the affects per se are different.’

These observations of Meyer’s are of relevance to the communication of music since, as we shall see, the differentiation of musical affect rests to a large extent on an awareness and cognition of a musical stimulus situation, comprised partly of specific listening and performing situations, partly of a convention of musical code with establishable correspondence to paramusical connotations.

Finally (4), Meyer (1956:22-23) cites the ‘law of affect’ which states that ‘emotion is evoked when a tendency to respond is inhibited’ and concludes that this ‘is a general proposition relevant to human psychology in all realms of experience’. We have already mentioned the ‘non-behavioural’ or rather ‘non-communicative’ nature of a certain type of musical listening experience, but there are other aspects of this ‘law’ which we should discuss further.

2.2.4 Musical affect

Leaving aside the inherent ability of certain types of music in certain listening situations to activate an emotional tendency and then, merely through continuing on to a new theme, (or while the concert listener sits amongst hundreds of other emotionally controlled peers) inhibit these tendencies, thus creating musical affect, there are other levels at which the law of affect can be applied to the communication of music. We shall find that there are musical stimuli which can activate, inhibit and even resolve ‘tendencies’ without considering social inhibitions governing the behavioural expression of affective response to music. The levels at which we find such stimuli will be referred to as (a) musemes, i.e. individual archetypes of coded musical affect, (b) museme stacks, i.e. simultaneous combinations of such archetypes, and (c) museme strings, i.e. successive combinations of (a) and (b). These museme strings are, in accordance with the law of affect, the results of initiating tendencies in the music, thereafter inhibiting them by means of musical contrast or contradiction and then, possibly, by resolving them. This process, accounted for in greater detail at a later stage in this paper, is described by Seeger (1977:73, ff.) in terms of tension and relaxation, and by Meyer (1956:23 et passim) in terms of expectation, continuation, deviation, completion, etc.

Thus musical affect is in general to be interpreted as the intrinsically emotive meaning contained in musical communication. A musical affect in particular is on the other hand an intrinsically emotive item of musical code (IMC), such as a museme, a museme stack or a museme string, when communicated to a receiver. However, when we refer to an individual ‘affect’ in audible or visual form, we shall naturally presume that the reader interpret this term in the context of a communication process.

Musical affect can exist, as shown above, at two stages in the communication process: perceived by receivers in (a) their own response and (b) by the objective stimulus causing such response. Musical affect must also be conceived by (c) the transmitter, this giving us three stages at which musical affect may be found. In this dissertation we shall be concentrating on musical affect as the objective or structural stimulus causing response in a given cultural context, while more cursory consideration will be given to musical affect at the other stages.

Having thus far defined and discussed the terms used in the title of this paper, it now seems wise to account for various musicological traditions and their relevance to the subject and aims of this thesis.

source

 

transmitter

 

channel

 

signal

 

receiver

 

message

destination

 

3 Musicological traditions and popular music analysis

In the last chapter we offered operational definitions of ‘popular music’ and ‘affect’. We discussed the latter with reference to its meaning as a psychological term applicable to music and its occurrence in musical theory of the baroque. Now, the use of a baroque term in the title of a dissertation dealing with popular music from the 1970s may seem a little surprising, but we intend to use the word ‘affect’, not only because we found its specifically psychological meaning applicable to the realm of music (see above), but also because the baroque theories of musical ‘figures’ and affect are in themselves relevant to the study of popular music. We base this opinion on historical and cultural similarities which may be found between the classification of already existent archetypes with distinguishable paramusical fields of reference in the music of the baroque era and the classification of musical archetypes which have developed during the history of popular music in the West. In order to understand how these two chronologically divided phenomena of musical classification are in fact connected, we should try to place both in their historical context.

3.1 European musicological traditions

3.1.1 From Affektenlehre to Wertästetik

It is no simple task to place baroque Affektenlehre in its historical context without accounting for its prehistory, referring to Greek musical theory and to the musicological tenets of the feudal church. However, in this study of TV theme music, there is little room for detailed historical narrative. Suffice it therefore to say that baroque Affektenlehre was a theoretical superstructure which categorised, in the manner described in the last chapter, musical message of the seventeenth century monodic style. This new compositional technique had to a certain extent escaped from the confines of laws of musical dogmatism laid down by the ecclesiastical institutions of the feudal era. However, a mechanistic view of musical meaning (e.g. ascensus = anabasiV) and a tendency to attach musical expression to forms requiring lyrics, dramatic action or other paramusical features still persisted.

In the lengthy join between feudalism and capitalism, between mysticism and rationalism and between polyphony and homophony, there were also tendencies to look forward in the realm of musical theory. At the time of the approaching ‘age of enlightenment’ attempts were made to explain the nature of musical communication by observation of humanly perceptible phenomena. The doctrine of musical affect can be seen in this light. However, as Zoltai (1970:193 ff.) points out in his appraisal of Mattheson’s work, characterising his method as the compilation of a hermeneutisches Wörterbuch, the Affektenlehre of the late baroque still contained the vestiges of feudal absolutist thought. This means that although theorists such as Mattheson attempted to explain the meaning of music by means of observation, comparison and association, they nevertheless seemed to imply the possibility of the universal application of their observations. Thus, their methods and findings are of interest to those who seek to explain existing archetypes of musical communication in popular music, while in another way their method is of less interest, since it tended to consolidate existing forms of musical expression in a normative fashion. This partially prescriptive aspect of the baroque doctrine of affect can be seen in the unsuitability of such universally conceived theory to ‘explain’ the musical meaning of subsequent forms of music: since the affect theorists of the late baroque must have based their observations on the music of their time and on that of immediately preceding generations, i.e. on musical styles which to a large extent were connected with a text or with dramatic action, their observations and ideas about musical meaning could not be applied in the same way to the superseding forms of purely instrumental music, such as the ‘classical’ sonata, symphony or quartet. Just as the referential nature of baroque music was superseded by the seemingly non-referential character of the new instrumental music, there was also a reaction against the explicitly referential nature of the baroque doctrines of ‘figures’ and affect. We may cite this outburst from Le neveu de Rameau (1762) as an example of this reaction:

‘Il faut que les passions soient fortes; la tendresse du musician doit être extreme .... point d'esprit, point d'épigrammes, point de ces jolies pensées’.

The rise of instrumental music during the ‘classical’ period is considered by Zoltai (1970:177-192, 193 ff.) as an expression for the ‘liberation of the ego’, in that the referential straitjacket of baroque music, as described in Affektenlehre, was cast aside to make way for a more direct expression of feeling in music of the type advocated in the above quotation.

We may consider this attitude typical of much late eighteenth century thought. It also pervades much nineteenth century musical philosophy. The humanistic liberation of the ego from the confines of feudalist metaphysical dogma went hand in hand with the bourgeois revolutionary movement against the absolutism of the ecclesiastical and monarchist hierarchical system. It is therefore hardly surprising to find musical theory of the time reflecting an unwillingness to tie down musical expression by means of verbal reference or any other type of paramusical connotation. This current of opinion, which has persisted in varying types of formalism in the intramusical structuralism of musical analysis as practised in universities and conservatories, is divided by Hubig (1975) into four main types of orientation, two of which seem to have been particularly fashionable in higher musical education. We shall, in accordance with Hubig, refer to these types of musicological thought as: (1) normative-generalising historicism and (2) relativist, non-evaluating historicism. The former is concerned with postulating dogmas of ‘musical metaphysics of the beautiful abstracted in an ahistorical fashion from the relevant epoch’ and also in using ‘historical facticity’ to evolve norms of value judgement about music. The second of these musicological traditions is concerned with archivist activity and the collection of facts and figures. Both these forms must be regarded as simultaneously non-interpretative and ahistorical. The most well-known representative of the former type of ‘autonomous’ aesthetics of music is probably Hanslick, whose famous 1854 maxim ‘patterns of sound in motion are uniquely and exclusively both the content and substance of music’ echoes in subsequent streams of music(ologic)al formalism, for example in statements like ‘The work of Art has its own existence’ (Schönberg 1951) or in Stravinsky’s famous epigram (1959) that music is incapable of expressing anything.

There are of course other reasons for the development of musicological formalism which cannot be accounted for in detail in this thesis. However, one aspect of relevance to this study does deserve mention. We are referring to the rise of mass produced Trivialmusik during the nineteenth century and its effects on musical criticism. Capitalist laws of competition and maximum profitability, demanding maximum turnover of commodity, were transferred to the production of music and now stood in direct contradiction to the bourgeois revolutionary idea of the ‘liberation of the ego’ (see above) and its artistic counterpart: individual freedom of expression. The composer of art music had, so to speak, escaped from the strait-jacket of feudal patronage only to be imprisoned by the demands of cultural commodity production on the ‘free’ market. Summarising this development, we could say that the music of the new ruling class (the bourgeoisie) split in two: on the one hand easily marketable ‘Trivialmusik’ and on the other hand ‘serious’ art music. Now, as Hubig (1975: 126) notes, the ‘autonomous’ norms of institutionalised musical aesthetics (Wertästhetik) sought to underline the ‘naturalness’ and superiority or art music and to identify the Unnatur and Geschmachlosigkeit of music considered as trivial. In creating and supporting such a norm system, this aesthetics of music upgraded active and passive participants in the art music sphere and downgraded those involved in other spheres of music. In so doing, formalist aesthetics of music of the late nineteenth century accentuated distinctive cultural aspects of class membership and brought about suspicion, contempt or pity among its adherents towards those socially and culturally ‘less fortunate’ than themselves.

This bisection of musical production under capitalism into ‘light’ and ‘heavy’, and the historically explicable partisanship of musicology towards the exclusive study of the ‘heavy’ side of this dualism led not only to a dearth of serious critical analysis in relation to popular music but also to the social isolation of art music from many other fields of musical activity. In this context we should mention the possibility that formalist views of music may have exacerbated problems between composers of modern art music and their audience. This would mean that the intrinsically anti-referential point de départ of traditional musicology and its accepted validity in art music circles has, as Benestad (1976: 338) suggests, contributed to the evolution of structuralist and highly non-referential types of compositional technique, such as dodecaphony and aleatory music. However, to clarify what is meant by traditional formalist musical analysis, we should discuss this trend in greater detail, paying special attention to its way of describing, or, more accurately, avoiding description of, music as a form of interhuman communication.

3.1.2 Traditional art music analysis and the description of emotive message

Traditional art music analysis, as found in MacPherson (c.1900), or in introductions to many scores, tends either to attempt a description of the emotive content of a classical work in subjective terms, without any explanation of how or why such elements are to be found in the music, or to avoid the description of such elements altogether. At its best, the former tradition can consist of imaginative and enlightened conjecture of a philosophical or metaphysical nature. An example of subjective, personalised conjecture in musical analysis can be found in the following comment on Mozart’s Symphony in G minor (K 550), claiming that it is:

‘the most poignant expression of that deep-rooted and fatalistic pessimism in Mozart’s nature which’… ‘strove for artistic expression.

Sometimes, in the tradition which usually avoids reference to paramusical concepts, we may read such passages as the following which describes J. S. Bach’s third Brandenburg Concerto:

‘the first movement is built on a theme’.... [which is] … ‘warmly coloured by the timbre of the violins, united in their low register’.

However, these have often either the character of sweeping generalisations (as in the Mozart example) or tend to merely occur sporadically (as in the Bach example). In neither case is there any attempt at consistent overall description of the music’s affective aspects. Indeed the reader of such analyses may well ask whether the music being commented upon is considered to communicate anything at all apart from its abstract structure; what one reads seem to be mere bar-by-bar commentaries enumerating changes of theme and key. This sort of ‘analysis’ can be compared to the sort of description of an object, which, in the case of, say, a house, might solely consist of information about its technical construction without any reference to why such construction techniques were used for which purpose, how it felt to live there, etc. Let us illustrate one aspect of this structuralist discourse by comparing the ‘analyses’ of the first movements from two well-known classical symphonies which are generally considered to portray totally discrepant moods. Readers finding little or no affective difference described in the following two ‘analyses’, should not be alarmed: the writers have merely omitted to account for all musical parameters in the two pieces apart from the question of formal compositional technique.

‘The allegro con brio is entirely derived from a very brief theme which not only engenders both the first and second subject, but also permeates the whole development section. Here is no real contrast between the two ideas, the initial rhythm persisting throughout the whole movement’.

‘The whole of the opening section down to the second theme is built on the first 18 bars of the first subject. The vigorous character of the first part of the theme is in contrast to the gentler second part’… ‘The opening subject’ (comes back), accompanied by a kind of counter-subject. A transition based on the first theme introduces the second theme. The exposition ends with a fresh motif which is immediately used in the development. What appears to be the return of the first theme is really the beginning of a development based on the first theme and preceding the recapitulation. This proceeds normally.

It should be pointed out that these quotations have been only negligibly abbreviated for purposes of space and that the only real omissions made are of the musical examples; these were omitted to hinder the reader from identifying the two works. This makes it all the harder to understand how two so similar accounts can be considered ‘analyses’ of two so effectively disparate pieces as the first movements of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony and Mozart’s 41st. Still, the reason for this is that the writers have concentrated on certain parameters of musical expression, such as form, structure, thematic treatment, and neglected others, such as orchestration, timbre and dynamics. The writers have moreover omitted to comment upon the affective meaning of individual melodic, harmonic and rhythmic motifs. The description of such aspects as acoustical environment, vocal and instrumental timbre and interpretation also tends to be absent in this type of non-referential ‘analysis’.

We have previously argued that notational centricity is unsuitable in the analysis of popular music. It would, however, appear unsuitable in the analysis of classical works too. Now, if certain aspects of musical idiom which are difficult to encode in musical notation, such as timbre, improvisation, syncopation, polyrhythm, non-diatonic harmony, are not included in traditional musical analysis, this may at least be understandable. However, it would be detrimental if applied to folk or popular music. The adherence to the analysis of ‘notatable’ parameters of musical expression could lead to value judgements totally irrelevant to the work being analysed. For example, it would be possible to say that rock-’n’-roll from the mid fifties is artistically inferior to Schubert lieder because it is mostly based on three chords in one key whereas Schubert uses any number of chords in one single Lied. This is as absurd as the converse value judgement that Schubert’s Lieder are inferior to rock-’n’-roll because they contain neither anticipated down beats nor falsetto screams. This does not mean to say that we consider the analysis of typically art music parameters of expression unimportant in the analysis of popular music; it is merely our intention to point out the ethnocentric risks involved in analysing certain musical factors and ignoring others.

From the discussion above it should be clear that formalist and non-referential musical analysis and its historically ‘ethnocentric’ social character render it by an large unsuitable for application in the serious study of popular music, tending in certain instances to concern itself with covert value judgements rather than with the interpretation of actual musical phenomena in their relevant historical, social, economic and cultural context. However, as stated at the beginning of this section, formalist Hanslickean musical criticism should be viewed as a historical parenthesis, bordered on the one hand by baroque theories of affect and on the other by the highly referential and interpretative nature if musical hermeneutics, a tradition which has a large degree of relevance to this dissertation.

Let us therefore in brief review the tradition of musical hermeneutics in order to determine its advantages and disadvantages when applied to the analysis of popular music.

3.1.3 Kretzschmar and the hermeneutics of music

If Hanslick has been used to exemplify non-referential musical thought it is natural to cite Kretzschmar (1911, 1913, 1919) as counterpart in a contrasting school of thought known as ‘musical hermeneutics’. Kretzschmar (1911:170) criticises ‘the untenability of Hanslick’s contention’, adding that ‘instrumental music constantly demands our ability to see ideas behind its signs and forms’. Indeed, as Kneif (1974:64) points out:

‘The idea that pure instrumental music can exhibit no content strikes Kretzschmar as anti-cultural’… ‘In his opinion “autonomous instrumental music should be treated as a danger to the general public”’ (Kretzschmar, 1911:170).

Now, while we may sympathise with Kretzschmar’s anti-formalist attitude in reference to the goals of this thesis we should point out that the basis of musical hermeneutics is a sort of exegesis which, in its original theological sense, involves the explanation of metaphysical texts by means of discussion, interpretation and a large amount of ‘reading between the lines’.

This would at first sight seem to rule out hermeneutics as a useful ingredient in the development of new methods of analysis. However, despite the obvious pitfall of ‘reading between the lines’, Kretzschmar’s line of reasoning can, when used properly, lead to the discovery of ‘objective’ interpretations of musical affect, provided such interpretation is based on ‘intersubjective recognition’ (i.e. different listeners respond in similar ways to the same piece of music). Kneif continues his appraisal of Kretzschmar’s’s work by referring to the latter’s organisation of polarity structures as an interesting starting point for a semiotic view of musical communication. However, before we discuss the semiological and intersubjective aspects of musical analysis, we should place Kretzschmar in his social and historical context, since this is of considerable relevance to the function envisaged for the type of analysis to be presented in this dissertation.

The very title of Kretzschmar’s best known work, Führer durch den Konsertsaal (1919), reveals a certain pragmatism of purpose. The guide was designed to help average concert-goers increase their understanding of instrumental music played in concert halls through reading and conversing about it. It is logical that a concert guide for those who do not have music as a full time occupation needs to relate music to phenomena outside its own structures, to incorporate musical knowledge with other aspects of experience. In fact, this sort of educational pragmatism seems to be a common denominator for a number of musical hermeneuticians: even Mattheson had a pragmatic didactic point-de-départ.

These observations lead to the final point to be made at this stage about musical hermeneutics. It is expressed by Hubig (1975:22) in the following terms:

‘Historicismus wie musikalische Hermeneutik weisen hin auf der Leerstelle, die von einer musikalischen Pragmatik aufzufüllen ist.’

This implies that the interpretation of musical meaning must be given a pragmatic dimension. It also seems to mean that one should not only describe the function and areas of practical application of the music being analysed, but also clearly define the function and areas of practical application of the study itself. With either the sort of relative approach mentioned by Kneif (intersubjective recognition), or similar means of substantiating hermeneutic observations, it should be possible to arrive at a method of interpreting musical affect: such combinations of approach will be discussed later. At this point it should, however, be made quite clear that the use of hermeneutic method as a contributory modus operandi in the analysis of musical ‘meaning’ is considered in this dissertation as an acceptable and long-standing musicological tradition which should admittedly be used with care and with certain modifications, but which nevertheless exists and which can, as we shall see, be used to some advantage.

3.2 Musicology and popular music analysis

So far we have delimited the two terms ‘popular music’ and ‘affect’ and historically accounted for some musicological approaches of possible relevance to popular music analysis. We have, for purposes of clarity, divided these approaches into two main categories which in some instances may not be so easily distinguishable as inferred. It is, however, our contention that certain generalisations must be made in order to throw some light upon whether or not any given school of musicological theory can as a whole be considered suitable for the purposes of this study. A distinction has therefore been made between on the one hand non-referential, ‘autonomous’, intramusical and formalist musicological theory and, on the other hand, what we may call referential, hermeneutic method. We have also contended that the latter category of musicological thought is more amenable for use in the context of popular music, partly because of its tendency to less frequently indulge in the hierarchisation of different types of music and musical experience, partly because its referential nature is better suited to deal with the highly referential nature of much popular music, especially of the kind analysed in this dissertation.

3.2.1 Twentieth-century musicological formalism

We have already mentioned Schönberg and Stravinsky as proponents of a formalist music aesthetics. There are other influential figures whose value aesthetics may be of some general interest but whose relevance to the present study is minimal. We are referring here to those embracing ideas of music’s ‘autonomy’, for example Schenker’s opinion that ‘Art in our world exists only for itself,’ or the metaphysical point-de-départ in the works of Kurth, or the notational centricity of Ingarden’s philosophising on the Ontology of music (1962:101 ff., 133 ff.).

A certain degree of paramusical reference can admittedly be found in the work of Langer (1949) , but her exclusive concern with the art music tradition leads often to quasi-formalist conclusions which, despite an underlying belief in the nature of music as a symbolic system, nevertheless do not clearly state what particular musical symbols actually symbolise. As previously inferred, this is probably due to concentration on typically non-referential forms of instrumental art music, and is expressed by the view that music neither derives from nor aims at the affections although it is their ‘logical expression’, thus rendering it incommensurable with representational symbol media such as painting, gesture and rite. However, whereas Langer propounds the theory that music does not contain individual direct messages of affect, it is our contention that this is one of the most important levels at which meaning is communicated in popular music.

Of course, we are in agreement with Langer’s theory (1969:214, 224, 228) that form is a vital aspect in the communication of complexes of feeling in music, but this notion should not be considered contradictory to the existence of musical meaning at other levels. This point of view may be made clearer with the help of an idea found in Zuckerkandl (1956). Citing the gestalt psychologist Max Wertheimer, Zuckerkandl argues that although our perception of motion is physiologically based on individual blinks of the eye, thereby consisting of a sum of still pictures, it is really a total dynamic phenomenon which transcends the material contained within the motion expressed by the sum of these ‘stills’. Obviously, without this phenomenon the motion picture industry could not exist, its technology being entirely dependent on that gestalt principle. Zuckerkendl concludes that the same applies to ‘heard motion’ as to ‘seen motion’ and we are back to Hanslick’s maxim that ‘patterns of sound in motion are uniquely and exclusively both the content and substance of music’ (tönend bewegte Formen sind einzig und allein Inhalt und Gegenstand der Musik). However, this circular argument is based on the fallacy that a gestalt can be constructed on one level only and that the relationships between ‘smaller’ gestalts cannot build larger ones. Such a fallacy results in turn from an inability to distinguish between different levels of perception. If we return for a moment to the analogy of a sequence in a motion picture we may find a useful parallel. A film sequence is made up of a number of individual picture frames, each occupying 1/24th (=0.04167) seconds (Dolan, 1967:65). The individual picture frame may therefore be considered as the basic unit in the communication of movement on the screen. If one single frame in a sequence is replaced by another single still shot whose content is totally foreign to the remaining individual frames in the sequence, it will be disregarded by the viewer at a conscious level of perception, although such techniques can and have been used to elicit the phenomenon of subliminal suggestion.

Now, although similar methods of cutting sound sequences into minimally short individual units are used, for example, in the sharing of transatlantic phone lines, the use of subliminal suggestion in music would seem almost impossible because the space of time occupied by the imperceptible silences (or foreign messages) in telecommunications, or by one picture frame at the cinema, is obviously far too small to be able to include the exposure of even the shortest musical idea. On the other hand, as we shall see later, the nature and content of a piece of music can be altered by changing not only the order of its component parts but also by changing the smallest consciously perceptible units of musical expression which make up these component parts, provided these parts ate, as we have stated, consciously perceptible. These component parts, of course longer in duration than individual picture frames or cuts in the flow of conversation on transatlantic telephone calls, are nevertheless the smallest units or basic building bricks in the construction of musical phrases and (as musemes – see §4.2.4.1, p.106 ff.) can be combined (like the morphemes of spoken language) in different ways to communicate different messages, the intrinsically ‘ongoing’ nature of music notwithstanding.

It should thus be clear that although it would be foolish to oppose the notion of relative structural autonomy within a piece of music or in relation to other pieces conceived within the same style, we do however reject formalism as a generally viable line of reasoning, particularly if it forms the basis for analysing music neither conceived of as ‘absolute’ nor designed for use without any paramusical accompaniment. The point is whether or not we accept all levels of musical perception as equally important components in musical listening and take consider them all when setting out methods of musical analysis, or whether we prefer to ignore the existence of signal functions, programmatic onomatopoeia, affect archetypes, musemes, or whatever other type of elemental semiological phenomena which are both found and perceived within any one musical genre.

Although we may consider that Meyer (1956) too, in his criticism of musicological formalism and its tendency to confuse ‘the absolute expressionists’ with ‘referential expressionists’, actually makes the mistake himself of constructing questionable states of antagonism between the uses of ‘expressionism’ and ‘referentialism’ in the interpretation of musical meaning, we are nonetheless in no way advocating an attitude of general pluralism. It should be manifest from the discussion above that the inherently ethnocentric nature not only of formalist musicology but also, as we shall see, of certain leftist attitudes towards music renders both schools of thought unsuitable for application in the field of popular music research. Instead we will regard the hermeneutic, ‘expressionist’ character of the musical analysis undertaken in this thesis as compatible with other subdisciplines of contemporary musicology, especially the semiology and sociology of music.

However, before discussing the application of these subdisciplines to musical analysis, let us review other directions in twentieth century musical thought which may also be considered relevant to the study in hand.

3.2.2 Intonation Theory and ‘neo-marxist’ aesthetics of music

One current of musicological thinking which seems to be of relevance to popular music research appears to be widespread in Eastern Europe. We are referring here to the Intonation Theory of Soviet composer and musicologist Boris Assafiev (1937, 1947). The main advantage of this tradition is that it easily lends itself to application in the realm of popular music since it embraces all levels of musical expression and perception from onomatopoeic programmatic signals to complex formal constructions without, at least as originally conceived, placing them on either overt or covert scales of aesthetic value judgement. Moreover, we may consider Assafiev’s theories to be of a holistic nature since they strive to put the musical work (and analyses thereof) into historical, cultural, social and psychological perspective. In other words Intonation Theory tends to embrace most subdisciplines of musicology in the same way as we inferred that the hermeneutic type of analysis to be used as part of our approach should be considered compatible with, for example, the sociology and the semiology of music.

Intonation theory would appear at first sight to be an ideal solution to the dilemma of the popular music researcher, and indeed it has not only been practised with a great degree of insight by Assafiev himself in the analysis of classical music, but also in the analysis of folk and popular genres. However, it should be pointed out at this stage that we shall not be using the terminology of Intonation Theory because of confusion in Assafiev’s choice and utilisation of key concepts. As Litynski (1974:1) observes, not only does the word ‘intonation’ already possess a wide range of signification in the area of music but also a diversity of new meanings attributed to the term by Assafiev himself. These range from ‘all musical phenomena, i.e. created, performed or heard in their historical context’ to ‘the simplest, shortest and expressive form in a rhythm’. Moreover, since Intonation Theory has, generally speaking, yet to penetrate the Western musicological frames of reference it may be considered injudicious to adopt a terminology which might cause the reader unnecessary confusion. In other words: despite the fact that the type of analysis used in this thesis has much in common with the holistic character of Intonation Theory we will not be using its terminology.

With reference to the above it would seem to follow that Western Marxist musicological theory might suit our purposes better. On a second glance, however, it may be seen that this is unfortunately not the case. To clarify this point we shall, for the purposes of brevity, distinguish between two main lines of reasoning when Marxist, or rather ‘neo-Marxist’ thinking is applied to the analysis and evaluation of popular music.

The first of these ‘neo-Marxist’ schools can in turn be subdivided into two streams of thought, one of which may be characterised as quasi-revolutionary, the other as vulgar Marxist or leftist. The first of these two, the quasi-revolutionary ‘rock-is-revolution’ school is anti-intellectual and can be disregarded in this context. The vulgar Marxists of the ‘new left’, however have been highly influential in debates about popular music in a number of European countries, and therefore warrant a some discussion.

Like their comrades-in-arms of the late sixties, the new leftists also hail from the ranks of rebellious middle class students and appear to be more concerned with the establishment of personal and group identity in relation to their bourgeois parents than with understanding the nature of popular music, its role in society, or with finding pragmatic uses for such knowledge — an observation which unfortunately cannot be elaborated upon in this context. Instead, they tend to concentrate on the establishment of inflexible politico-cultural dogma in order to create an adequate social image of themselves, often exhibiting a tendency to use an anti-establishment variation of the commodity fetishism which they so strongly attack in other forms. This type of mechanistic dogmatism must be seen as a sort of politicised variation on the theme of formalism already criticised on sociocultural grounds as unsuitable for application to the task in hand. Both the quasi-revolutionary and the leftist schools of thought have moreover tended to disregard or suspect the nature of detailed musical analysis and even of serious musical inquiry in general. In so doing, the adherents to these schools of thought have rendered themselves intellectually and ideologically incapable of understanding the nature and content of popular music communication and its role in a society.

We can, on the other hand, hardly be expected to level the same charges of anti-intellectualism at the second of the two main trends in Western Marxist musicology. We are referring here to the school of ‘critical theory’ at the Institut fur Sozialforschung in Frankfurt-am-Main and in particular to its figurehead, Adorno (1976). Now while we may consider Adorno useful as a source of imaginative and enlightened comment on some of the problems of art music he is of little help in the understanding of popular music, adopting a culturally elitist posture in his arguments about ‘light music’. Ling (1977c:2) puts the matter as follows:

‘He (Adorno) condemns entertainment music with verbal acrobatics and devastating argumentation, sitting on the bourgeois pedestal of Hegelian aesthetics.’

We are in total agreement with this statement and will therefore not be adopting an Adornian attitude towards popular music in what follows.

3.2.3 The semiology of music

We have already cited Kneif’s opinion that certain aspects of Kretzschmar’s musical hermeneutics may be an interesting point of departure for a semiotic view of musical communication. Among several interesting studies using either musical hermeneutics or semiology, we should in this context mention, on the one hand, the speculative but imaginative insights of Cooke (1959), Mellers (1962, 1973) and Bernstein (1977) and, on the other hand, the more structuralist hypotheses of Nattiez (1974, 1976) and Ruwet (1966, 1972).

While exponents of musical hermeneutics and of the structuralist semiological school both share a common belief in music as a system of sound symbols there is nevertheless a definite gap to be bridged between these two polarities of approach. Nattiez (1976) places himself fair and square in the structuralist camp. He states (1974:72-3):

‘Il faut characteriser le fonctionnement combinatoire des signes pour eux-mêmes, avant de les étudier dans leur rapport avec les aspects externes, sociologiques et psychologiques en particulier. Et l’histoire de la linguistique est là pour témoigner du bon ordre la démarche: une sociologie linguistique efficace a été possible lorsqu’on a connu de façon suffisamment fine les structures immanentes du langage, avant de les mettre en rapport avec différents niveaux de stratification sociale.’

This may be regarded as a typically intradisciplinary structuralist approach, and Nattiez (1974:67) is quite vehement in his criticism of Barthes’ (1970) use of semiological terms to conceal a hermeneutic approach to the interpretation of myths.

‘La sémiologie ne peut être la science des idéologies, car leur analyse suppose le recours aux pratiques classiques de l’exégése et de l’analyse de contenu’.

We should at this point clarify that, despite justified criticism of the ‘pseudo-scientificity’ of certain writings of a hermeneutic bent, Nattiez’ main line of argumentation runs the risk of ending up in an academic cul-de-sac. One problem is that Nattiez bases his opinion — that ‘musical signs’ cannot be studied in relation to external aspects before (his italics) their combinatory manner of functioning has been characterised as a phenomenon per se’ — on a false analogy between the stage of development and sophistication reached by the subdiscipline of (verbal) linguistics and, on the other hand, the subdiscipline of what we may call the interpretation of musical meaning and structure.

Now, whereas we may well know ‘de façon suffisamment fine les structures immanentes du langage’, we cannot say the same of our knowledge of the immanent structures of musical language. This is of course due to the non-semantic nature of the majority of musical discourse which complicates the epistemology of music, since while we may use verbal language as a metalanguage for describing the meaning and function of verbal discourse, academic tradition would hardly permit an analogous usage of musical language as a metalanguage describing the meaning and function of musical language (Nattiez, 1976: 191). We are therefore obliged to use other symbols and signs, mostly words. The question is whether the historical development of established tenets of linguistics can in any way act as blueprint for the processes by which the study of musical communication arrives at a comparable degree of supposed sophistication, or whether we should proceed from the actual situation at hand and attempt interpretations of musical meaning with all available means. In other words: while it may be possible to be verbally precise about the social, ideological and psychological content and function of spoken and written language (thanks not least to its intrinsically verbal, semantic nature and to the consequently greater degree of sophistication of linguistic discipline regarding the verbal interpretation of verbal meaning) we cannot expect the same to apply to musicology. This seems to imply that technical aspects of musical theory, history and analysis, musical hermeneutics, criticism and other traditional aspects of musicological discipline must be combined with newer approaches, for example sociology, information theory, semiology, etc., so that we may at least arrive at a stage where well-founded hypotheses can be put forward about the meaning and function of music before (my italics) subsequently effectuating Nattiez’ ‘characterisation of musical signs and their combinatory manner of functioning’. Nattiez has in other words put the cart before the horse, hoping to discover musical structure as an object in abstracto before sufficient information about the process of musical communication has been presented as a basis for such abstraction. Our contention is, in short, that hermeneutics and semiology should be combined at the present stage of musical research in order to establish workable hypotheses about the nature, content and function of musical messages, and, in turn, that this task cannot be carried out without making social, psychological and ideological observations about the function of music. Indeed, we may ask ourselves how any musical structure may be considered as such if it is not perceived by a receiver or group of receivers, and how knowledge about musical structures can be gained without permitting social, psychological and ideological determinants of these structures enter into the discussion.

We argue that there is a dialectic relationship between the analysis of music per se and the analysis of its function; for how can anything be known about musical structure and meaning if we do not know what the music is used for, and, conversely, how can we find out anything about uses of music if we know nothing of musical structure and meaning? This is why we advocate the consideration of both formal and functional aspects of musical analysis regardless of the musicological subdiscipline used as basis for approaching the problem.

3.2.4 Establishing of a communication model

So far we have argued that musicologists should not need to confine themselves to one of the two polarities of opinion expressed above, whether it be hermeneutics and the inherent risk of this approach degenerating into exegetic subjectivism, or strict semiology, involving a possible degeneration into academic structuralism. Indeed, fruitful combinations of hermeneutic and semiological approach to musical analysis, or one of these two in conjunction with a sociological point of departure can be exemplified in existing studies by Stefani (1974), Ling (1977a, 1978b), Thorsén (1977, 1978) and Tarasti (1978). All these studies share moreover a common belief in music communicating something from someone to someone else, an idea which may be schematised borrowing a model of communication from the discipline of semiotics.

There are of course various communication models available, all involving varying degrees of complexity, but the establishment of such a model in an analytical study of music such as this helps to clarify not only how the author envisages the musical communication process as a whole but also which part or aspect of the process he intends to concentrate upon; finally the reader may see in what relationship this particular part stands to the remainder of the process as a whole. From Eco (1976:33) we shall borrow the following communication model:

Fig. 4. ¬ Eco’s communication model

This study is concerned with musical code, primarily with meaning of musical ‘signals’ passing in the ‘channel’ between ‘transmitter’ and ‘receiver’. The process may be made clearer using the specifically musical communication model constructed by Bengtsson (1974, see figure 5, p. 68). Our prime interest will be directed towards an analysis of link ‘A’ (sound events) in Bengtsson’s model. However, as we have already pointed out, it is clearly impossible to determine the meaning and function of these ‘sound events’ or of the signals encoded in Eco’s ‘channel’ (see above) without discussing the social, economic and ideological framework relevant to the production (composition, performance, recording) and consumption of music, not only as a general phenomenon but also in connection with a single occasion of performance.

This means that social environments, factors of tradition, norms of encoding and decoding, all to be found in Bengtsson’s model, must be accounted for. We should moreover discuss aspects of ‘competence’: that is to say to what extent the individual or group of individuals at the receiving end of an encoded and communicated message are able to perceive and distinguish the signals sent through the ‘channel’ and to what extent they can ‘understand’, ‘experience’ and ‘respond to’ the signals according to the sociocultural norms involved in the relevant communication situation. This means that we need to establish another model of communication which, in addition to all the above factors, can also express such aspects of intention (‘goal-directedness‘), ‘competence’ and interference (‘noise‘).

Figure 6, a hybrid of the communication schemata shown as figures 4 and 5, takes also into account important aspects mentioned by Baggaley and Duck (1976) in their critique of structuralist content analysis. Some important questions to be asked in conjunction with our communication model (fig. 6) are be summarised in the twelve points listed after the next two figures (p. 69).

Fig. 5. Bengtsson’s model of the musical communication process.

Fig. 6. Communication model for the analysis of popular music

1. Who is transmitter? Who is receiver?

2. What are the sociocultural norms, intentions and motivations of the transmitter and receiver both in a general context and at the occasion of performance of the piece of music to be analysed?

3. What common and particular stores (vocabularies) of musical symbols do transmitter and receiver possess?

4. What common and particular interest do transmitter and receiver have in the communication of the musical message?

5. Is there one or two way communication? (‘Munication’ or communication?).

6. Which technical aspects of the communication process influence the transmitter in his choice of compositional and performance techniques? (How does medium affect choice of message to be encoded?)

7. What is the objective physical form and uninterpreted content of the coded message?

8. What is the relation of the coded message as an object to other objects of coded musical message within the framework of cultural tradition relevant to transmitter and receiver?

9. What interference affects the encoding of the message into the channel and the transmission of the coded message as far as the ears of the receiver?

10. What interference affects the decoding of the message inside the receiver?

11. How does the coded message affect the receiver?

12. What other effects - social, psychological, ideological - does the coded message have?

It would obviously be impractical to try and answer all these questions in equal detail within the scope of any single musical analysis, and it is clear that the questions raised above may have varying degrees of importance depending on which type of music and which sociomusical function is being studied. For example, interference aspects may not be of paramount importance in certain contexts, for, as Hood (1975) states on the subject of television:

‘The fact that’ [codes] ‘can be read by the receivers argues that there is a congruence between the coding and decoding process’.

Of course, Hood’s observation may well hold good for many television and popular music situations but can hardly be expected to apply when dealing with the communication of punk pock to US country music fans, of avant-garde classics to anyone outside the initiated few, or any situation involving codal ‘incompetence’ or ‘interference’. However, since we are concerned here with popular music on television we shall adopt Hood’s statement as our own, not because we regard it as universally applicable but because it is part and parcel of the consequences resulting from the economic set-up under which much popular music is produced and consumed. This aspect of popular music requires a short presentation which will facilitate our understanding of the popular music communication process as a whole and will thereby enable us to place other aspects of our analysis in a larger context.

3.3 The communication and analysis of popular music

Having established a model schematising the stages of the popular communication process which we intend to analyse (§3.2.4) it seems important to make one or two general observations about the communication and analysis of popular music from an economic and sociological viewpoint before progressing to the presentation of the particular analytical techniques used in this dissertation.

3.3.1 Economic aspects

It has previously been argued that popular music is all music which is neither art nor folk music and that in a capitalist economy is sold, marketed and distributed according to the laws of ‘free enterprise’. This means that a company producing music or any other cultural commodity under this system is subject to the same conditions as companies producing other sorts of goods. In purely economic terms this means that music, along with any other cultural expression in these circumstances, will tend to turn into a ‘commodity’, or a ‘product’ (we have already used these words) as though it were detergent or peanut butter. Art music, on the other hand, is not subject to the same conditions of economic survival, being often subsidised by public funds, and folk music is, as we have seen (§2.1.4.), usually independent of a monetary economy for its existence. However, producers of popular culture (including music) have to aim at selling as much product to as many buyers as possible so as to increase their share of the market at the expense of competitors who might, if more enterprising, put them out of business by being more ‘commercial’ and gaining greater popularity. This would seem to imply that judicious producers of popular culture should ensure that the codes of their product (verbal, mythical, musical, visual, etc.) should be decodable by as many receivers as possible. However, no given system of coding popular culture can exist for ever since the inherent dynamism of a class society implies social and economic change which, in its turn, can lead to socioeconomic regrouping and consequent needs for new and more relevant cultural objects of group identification. This dynamism is in direct conflict with notions of economic viability demanding static cultural codes. This conflict, i.e. on the one hand business considerations leading to the use of well-known, well-tried musical codes as a recipe for popularity, and, on the other hand, the genesis of new sociocultural needs of identification due to shifts in the class structure of capitalist society, is one of the inherent paradoxes of the popular music industry.

Fig. 7. Circulation of capital in the record industry (Thorsén, 1977b: 26-27).

We should at this stage point out that conservative tendencies in popular culture generally appear to increase in times of economic stagnation while novelty appears to flourish in ‘better times’. The increased importance of ‘nostalgia’ in Western popular music of the 1970s may be seen as an example of this trend in which cultural regression seems to go hand in hand with economic depression. Now it is of course absurd, as Fornäs (1979) suggests, to attribute these conservative tendencies to some sort of conscious capitalist cultural conspiracy, almost as unenlightening to see them as the result of a low level of political consciousness at large. The most important factors behind ‘nostalgia’, ‘regression’ and other conservative tendencies in popular culture are to be found in the systems governing the circulation of capital in our society, and in a transfer of observations made about these laws to the realm of popular culture in general and to popular music in particular. The model in figure 7 is designed to show how the production of a cultural commodity (in this case gramophone records) is totally dependent on a flow of capital from the buying public. The company marketing such product must be a going concern. The diagram also shows how a company producing cultural commodities can try and influence the consumer to invest in its products by advertising and other marketing techniques, whereas consumers’ only means of exerting influence in the other direction is via their wallet, i.e. by buying or omitting to buy the commodity being offered. Now, although the diagram shows the general circulation of capital in the record industry (a particularly perspicuous case in point), similar models may be constructed and similar observations made about the circulation of capital in the production of commercial television shows (see §5.1.), popular literature, films, etc. The point is that sale of product is the overriding if not often the sole factor governing media corporation policies of production and repertoire. Aspects of cultural communication such as long term social utility, educational or ethical responsibility etc. can only be considered by private firms if they are already making sufficient profit on ‘commercial’ product to afford such luxuries as a sideline. This implies, as we have argued, that the use of well-tried and familiar codes and forms guaranteeing comprehensibility and desirability (especially in times of economic depression) will be economically more viable under the conditions of free competition than attempts to develop and renew the codes and forms of communicating popular culture. All this will be clearly seen in our analysis of the Kojak theme and also holds true not only for the production of title music but also in connection with soundtrack scores, Muzak, dance music and in radical non-conformist worship.

We may summarise the preceding discussion as follows: popular music is subject to economic conditions of survival totally different to those of art and folk music. This means also that popular music has transmitters, receivers and social functions which differ from those of art and folk music spheres. This implies in turn that while individual items of any given object of musical communication may be physically similar to individual items in any given object in the art or folk music tradition, they need not be perceived in the same way by listeners in a popular music situation and may thereby have a different structural function or meaning in their musical and social context. This is, as we shall see, a point of special importance to bear in mind with regard to the ‘easy-listening’ attitude inherent in the communication on much popular music.

Popular music, its content, meaning and function, will therefore be analysed with reference to the above. This requires that attention be paid to the question ‘Why and how is who communicating what to whom and with what effect? Answering this question demands not only a hermeneutic and semiological approach but also a sociological point-de-départ.

3.3.2 Sociological aspects

We have previously argued that no description of a piece of music is complete without consideration of its function, and that this in turn requires, inter alia, a sociological approach. Unfortunately there is no room here to give even the shortest of résumés of different streams of thought in the sociology of music; indeed, the application of sociological method has been consciously avoided in this dissertation since it is beyond the scope of the study to be undertaken. This does not imply, however, that we do not consider certain types of sociological approach relevant to the analysis of popular music; on the contrary, they have merely been excluded for practical reasons and will be dealt with at a later stage of research.

Although we do not intend to use a sociological approach in what follows, we should nevertheless state that certain lines of reasoning in the sociology of music have profoundly influenced our choice of and approach to musical material. We are referring here primarily to the empirical school of sociomusicology as represented in the works of Silberman (1963), Nylöf (1967, 1976, 1977a, b), Ling (1970a, b) and Karbušicky (1966). The advantages of this type of empirical sociomusicology from the point of view of the popular music researcher lies in the fact that the mere collection of quantifiable data about musical taste and habits have to a certain extent challenged the raison d’être of formalist and structuralist approaches in traditional musicology. The crushing predominance of popular music in the musical lives of the majority of citizens in the Western world has been accounted for time and time again in empirical sociological data with ensuing political discussion about the relevance and efficiency of traditional musicological discipline. Such empirical data has already been quoted in the introductory chapter as an important reason for our choice of subject. This is however only part of the picture.

As Gravesen (1971) points out, empirical sociomusicology runs the risk of becoming positivist, allowing solely extramusical factors, such as social function and habit, to determine the nature of music and musical communication. This means that although statistical observations may be made about the number of individuals in given populations preferring different types of music for different purposes and reasons, very little can be said in answer to our cryptic question ‘why and how is what being communicated to whom?’ This will be clearer if we revert to our communication model (fig. 6, p.69). Empirical sociomusicology gives us information about the social character of a given type of music from the point of view of quantifiable statistical data answering the question ‘to whom?’, that is, facts about the social habitat of the receiver. No information can be gleaned about the ‘channel’ or about aspects of ‘interference’ and ‘incompetence’. In other words, difficulties start to arise as soon as ‘what’ becomes part of the question since this requires a description of the musical object and a certain amount of content analysis which, as yet, cannot be effectuated by empirical method. In fact, problems can already be discernible at the stage of genre typology, that is to say even before any analysis of musical method; this is because the categorisation of musical genres by means of convenient captions can in no way be considered as scientifically reliable, especially in the realm of popular music in which not only the term itself but also concepts such as ‘pop’, ‘beat’, ‘rock’, ‘rock-’n’-roll’, ‘rock and roll’, ‘folk’, ‘middle-of-the road’, etc. must be regarded as anything but precisely defined terms in the minds of popular music researchers just as much as lay respondents to questionnaires about musical taste.

These two points (no analysis of message in ‘channel’, unreliable genre typology), combined with the fact that the empirical socio-musicological approach only occasionally concerns itself with the transmitting end of the communication process, lead us once again to advocate a combination of method, stressing the importance of content analysis as an inevitable link in the understanding of popular music.

3.3.3 Natural and social science method

We may conclude from the above discussion that empirical sociomusicology can play an important part in the total analysis of musical communication provided it is used in conjunction with other approaches such as semiology, hermeneutics and traditional musical theory. However, we should pay special attention to some important problems involved in the use of certain other scientific methods of describing the communication of music solely from the receiving end.

At the present stage of development, research into neuropsychological responses to musical stimuli seem to offer very little accurate information in answer to the question ‘what is being communicated?’ When, for example, according to Sundberg (1972), an Austrian neuropsychologist presented a way of registering brain signals which are actually relatable to certain sonic properties such as intervals and dynamics, this was acclaimed by international expertise as a major breakthrough in neuropsychological research into music. Of course, it would be absurd to belittle the results of such research but with reference to the study at hand we are forced to state that very little has happened since the late 1950s in this extension of the psychology of music which can enable us to understand the content of coded musical message. Francès (1958:176-177), after having conducted a number of experiments involving alpha rhythm measurements, electroencephalogram techniques and skin galvanometers to measure physiological response to musical stimuli, felt obliged to report:

‘D'une manière générale. on peut dire que le contenu phénoménal, c’est-à-dire l’ensemble des événwments subjectifs — tels que les informations verbales ou les différents signaux émis par le sujet permettant de s'en faire une idée — est beaucoup plus étendu et plus riche que son accompagnement physiologique, tel, du moins que l‘état actuel de notre technique a permis de le détecter’.

This does not mean to say that neuropsychological research into musical perception and response should be written off: it is just that it currently appears to be too clumsy a tool for use in the analysis of listener response to wide and delicate variations of musical stimuli. Moreover, certain reservations of a more general nature, such as those put forward by Lesche (1971), could also be made with reference to the use of psychophysical measurement in musical research.

The final tests in Francès’ La perception de la musique are conducted in the form of evaluating verbal responses to contrasting pieces of music, a method which appears far more congenial to the establishment of verifiable data about the nature of musical message. Now, the problems of measuring verbal interpretations of decoded affective message from groups of respondents are extremely complex and have not only be discussed by Francès but also by Osgood (1957, 1962, 1975), Nordenstreng (1966) and Wedin (1972). Osgood et at (1975), in an attempt to overcome the problem of the same affective word meaning different things to different respondents, has developed a system of ‘cross-cultural universals of affective meaning’, based on three sets of bipolarity scaling common to a large number of linguistic cultures while Wedin (1972) has advocated non-metric multidimensional scaling of affective verbal response to music. However, even if these problems concerning the objective reliability of answers to questions about affective experience can be sorted out, several obstacles still remain before we can know what items in any musical object act as stimuli to common listener response. Wedin (1972:128) puts the matter as follows:

‘A natural question would be: do there exist any definable musico-technical correlates (i.e. independent stimulus variables) to (recorded) perceptual-emotional qualities? This is actually a problem to be solved by musicologists.’

We are in agreement with Wedin’s conclusion. Indeed, we intend to show how, at this stage of research, such correlates can be arrived at, excluding the collection of empirical data about listener responses, because of the exceptional difficulties we claim to be involved in eliciting objectively reliable responses to music in general and to popular music in particular. These difficulties concern not only the questions of scaling and treatment of data mentioned above, but also the actual method of acquiring such data which will not automatically destroy the type of listening situation in which most communication of popular music takes place.

To clarify the nature of this problem the reader should bear in mind that concentrated and meditative listening attitudes are extremely rare in popular music (whether or not the listener/respondent is requested to verbalise his reactions and associations during or after the test piece). It is therefore possible that respondents, by being asked to verbalise their own musical experience, will, through the conscious act involved in this verbalising operation, adopt a different listening attitude to the music and thereby conceptualise their conscious experiences from conscious listening rather than their usual ‘natural’ reactions from their usual ‘easy-listening’ attitude. Even if we were to try and by-pass this inherent contradiction in the acquisition of consciously produced verbal information from respondents about musical meaning in a preconscious listening situation by suggesting that the researcher actually take part at the receiving end of the musical communication process and observe his own reactions, there is absolutely no guarantee that his observations will correlate with those of his subjects. Obviously, an increase in the number of observers of any given situation of musical communication will eliminate some of the risks of subjective interpretation involved when observations are carried out by a single researcher, but this strategy will merely augment the danger of changing one type of musical communication situation — the one to be described — into another one which would not be the original object for study. These arguments can be concretised if the reader will imagine typical popular music situations, such as at home while doing the washing up, in the car while driving, in front of the television, at the cinema, Saturday evening at the discotheque, etc., to realise the practical problems involved in acquiring reliable information about the reception and perception of popular music.

These methodological problems concerning the acquisition and evaluation of receiver response in the popular music communication process would seem to require further investigation. Such investigation is beyond the scope of this study. Instead we shall follow Wedin’s advice and try to find a way of ‘establishing independent stimulus variables’ which may at a later stage be correlated to ‘perceptual-emotional qualities’. This seems a reasonable task to be undertaken by the popular music researcher; let us therefore determine to what extent such work has already been carried out in this field.

3.3.4 Popular music research

There are vast quantities of books about popular music. These range from obsequious monographs about well-marketed figureheads in the record business to serious studies of a sociological or historical nature, from startling revelations about bribery and corruption to detailed historical accounts of individual types or aspects of popular music. However, as Schuler (1978:135), points out:

‘Während an biographischen, textinterpretierenden und musiksoziologischen Arbeiten einiges vorliegt — wenngleich meist ohne wissenschaftlishen Anspruch — fehlt as an musikimmanenten Untersuchungen’.

This lack of musical analysis in literature about popular music causes a number of problems: not only can genre definitions be unclearly or incorrectly described, certain authors seem also to experience great difficulty in dealing verbally with the message of the music they want to describe. Astounding feats of super-associative verbal acrobatics result from this problem, for example Cohn’s (1970) account of The Platters’ Only You or Meltzer’s (1970) description of the Rolling Stones’ Satisfaction and Vanilla Fudge’s The Beat Goes On. It is Schuler’s opinion that these difficulties may in part be caused by the inherent ‘irrationality’ of rock music, but were we even only concerned with the analysis of rock, this lack of analytical discipline should not be primarily attributed to the perceived nature of the music being described but rather to a lack of will amongst musicologists to develop relevant methods of analysis. This means that writings on popular music have tended to remain outside the sphere of musicology and have been left almost exclusively to journalists who can hardly be expected to develop detailed methods of musical criticism and analysis as a first priority.

There are, however, a number of serious analytical studies of popular music, very few of which seem available in published form. Among such studies, which together constitute a mere drop in the ocean of publications on popular music, we choose to mention the following as having special relevance to the topic.

There are works dealing with the analysis of function and content in specific popular music genres. In this context we should mention Mühe’s (1968) informative description of the nature and function of evergreens played in the DDR. Through a combination of hermeneutics, detailed statistics and socio-psycho-musicological approach, Mühe has been able to explain the nature of the affective message found in the music he is investigating. We should also mention the analyses of pop music carried out by Dörte Hartwich-Wiechell (1974) in her historically oriented account of the various sub-genres popular amongst young people in the BRD. Her analyses may not be as detailed as Mühe’s but they nevertheless serve a useful purpose in musically defining such terms as ‘acid rock’, ‘jazz rock’, ‘soul’, ‘bubble gum rock’, etc. She is moreover clear about the relative priorities of certain parameters of musical expression in the music she analyses, underlining the importance of recording technique and other ‘sound’ aspects in rock music, and decidedly more detailed and stringent in her approach than other West German writers on rock music, such as Kneif, Olshausen, Feurich and Sandner. Studies by Hess, Hanser-Strecker, Mülbauer (1972), Schuler and others offer useful information about the meaning and function of various types of popular music, and work by Rebscher (1973) and others is of considerable interest in an educational context.

In the Anglo-Saxon world the proportion of publications dealing with the analysis of popular music from a musicological point of view would seem to be much smaller than that found in the Germanic sphere of cultural influence. Apart from a number of interesting studies on the blues, jazz (neither really part of the popular music complex at the time of writing) and an interesting educational study by Vulliamy and Lee (1976), the only books apparently available which actually attempt the analysis of popular music in any great detail in English appear to be those by Wilder (1972) and Mellers (1973). Wilder’s main objective seems to be to demonstrate the ingenuity shown by the composers of classical evergreen songs from the heyday of Tin Pan Alley. Wilder is often illuminating in his observations, counting numbers of bars in irregular periods, noting anomalies of form and describing clever harmonic changes, etc., but he is imprecise about what he considers to be the message of the music he is describing.

Mellers, on the other hand, cannot be accused of such imprecision. About the Beatles track ‘Because’ from Abbey Road he writes as follows (1973:117-118):

‘The middle section... changing the subdominant minor to major, creates with inspired simplicity the newness and all-embracingness of love’... ‘The arpeggiated tune is absorbed into an arpeggiated accompaniment which is like the lulling of the cradle or even the swaying of the amniotic waters’.

Similar passages, found passim in Mellers’ work, can be easily criticised as exegetic philosophising and indeed, such descriptions as that cited above may be considered highly dubious. However, certain aspects of Mellers’ approach, especially the ability to intuitively associate to pertinent musical and paramusical phenomena, are of great importance in the analysis of musical message, although a greater proportion of analytical stringency would seem desirable.

We have already mentioned the more stringent approach employed by Mühe, Hartwich-Wiechell and others in their analysis of popular music; their combination of hermeneutic, sociological and musicological tradition would once again appear to be the most relevant approach to our study. In this way, associative hermeneutic thought can be bridled by more formally acceptable method and the formal approach be expanded by a certain degree of intuitive reasoning. Such combinations of approach in the analysis of popular music can be found in a number of smaller studies carried out at the Department of Music at the University of Göteborg, Sweden. In this context we should mention Ling (1977a, 1978b) with his analysis of the change in function and meaning of two well-known Swedish folk tunes in various renditions, and the work of Eldenius (1978) and Thorsén (1978) concerning the use of popular music forms in the Pentecostalist movement.

The analytical method set forth in this dissertation probably lies closest to the work just referred to. However, before presenting that method, let us summarise some of the more important conclusions to be drawn from the discussion thus far.

3.3.5 Conclusions

It should be clear from our discussion of musicological tradition and method that we are advocating a holistic approach to the problems involved in understanding the content and function of popular music. Exclusive subdisciplinary attitudes of formalism, be they found in traditional musicology, or in the semiology, sociology or neuropsychology of music, in the dogmatism of the ‘new left’ etc., are considered unsuited to the task in hand; nor is an unbridled hermeneutic approach being advocated. Our argument is that a combination of different approaches is necessary to the understanding of popular music, and we would stress the special importance of the hermeneutics, sociology and semiology of music as means to this end. However, it is obvious that no single work on the analysis of popular music can be expected to cover as much interdisciplinary ground as we argue would be necessary to provide the reader with a detailed overall description of even one single situation of musical communication; this is why sociological, psychological, semiological, historical, mythological, theological and visual aspects of analysis will be treated in less detail than the analysis of the musical ‘object’ in the ‘channel’.

It should also be evident that a study which purports to present a detailed account of a musical analysis technique cannot. be expected to include comparative analyses of a large number of musical works from a wide variety of genres; such a study would either swell to unwieldy proportions if all the analyses were to be carried out in any detail, or it would become unclear and imprecise in its presentation of method if the analyses were to be shortened for the sake of space. We have therefore limited our choice of material to one short piece of popular music so that all aspects of musical communication may be discussed in detail. Moreover, we have consciously chosen an object for analysis whose musical language and function may be regarded as comparatively unambiguous so that the methods used and the conclusions drawn in this study may also become as unambiguous as possible.

We now intend to present further reasons for our choice of musical object and some general problems confronting the popular music researcher in the analysis of such music. After that we will account for the actual analysis procedure.

noise

code

Legend: n = notation, f = physical sound sources / sound events,

r = reaction, response, b = behaviour, f = perception,

a = physiological processes. t = time.

For critique of this use of abbreviations, see footnote 253, p.118.

 

Ex.9. (HS) Swedish national anthem: hypothetical substitutions

 

4 The analysis of affect in popular music

4.1 Uniform systems of musical code

So far we have been mainly concerned with a discussion of musicological traditions and with determining the extent to which they may be applicable to the analysis of popular music. While arguing that a combination of approaches is advisable and stressing the importance of hermeneutic, sociological and semiological lines of reasoning, we stated that a consistently holistic approach is impracticable within the scope of this study. We have therefore decided to focus on the analysis of one single stage in the communication process: the coded musical message in one single piece of music. The choice of musical object to analyse is influenced by considerations which comply with the aims of this thesis, the most important consideration being to choose a piece of popular music widely decodable by a large, heterogeneous audience. We cannot at this stage present conclusive statistical proof that the piece we have chosen meets this requirement (being widely decodable by a large heterogeneous audience), but there is extensive circumstantial evidence supporting the hypothesis that there do in fact exist uniform systems of musical code within the area of popular music from which our choice has been made. This will be clearer if we look at certain popular music functions and in brief review their aims and effects.

4.1.1 ‘Muzak’™

Muzak™ is the registered trade mark of one of a number of corporations producing specially recorded background music for use in places of work, public areas, such as lifts, hotel foyers, shops and airports, and even for schools, hospitals and slaughter houses. We shall use the term ‘muzak’ (initial lower-case) to describe all background music designed and produced by the Muzak™ (initial upper-case) corporation itself, Philips (Eindhoven), 3M or any other similar company solely for non-entertainment use in order to cover unwanted noise (e.g. restaurants, bars), to increase production and decrease ‘absenteeism’ (factories and offices), to compensate for anxiety (as in aircraft) or just to create a ‘general feeling of euphoria’.

Potential buyers of muzak systems can be influenced by large amounts of brochures and handouts which recount how profits will be raised and results improved if they install or subscribe to such a system. Selling arguments seem to be figures about ‘increased production’ and ‘job fulfilment’ and brief presentations of production theory and method. Of course, manufacturers of muzak systems are not especially informative about the research behind their product, but we may mention that variations in tempo, metre, instrumentation are considered by the manufacturers to cause varying but predictable listener response in varying situations. Philips Funktionell Musik (Stockholm), for example, argue that quieter, slower music played by small ensembles is better suited to banks, hospitals, waiting rooms and offices whereas pop, big band and music played by larger ensembles lends itself more readily to use in industry, at petrol stations, fun fairs and sporting events. As one of its main selling arguments the Muzak Corporation of New York often refers to its ability to produce music which will compensate for fall off in concentration and production by counteracting lower motivation and energy on the part of employees with music of increased stimulus value in alternating fifteen minute segments of music and silence. In their PR material they claim:

‘By producing our own music, we achieve the control which is essential for planning the application of musical factors which influence people We can affect you by increasing or decreasing tempo. We can increase orchestra size and vary instrumentation The possible combination of such music factors is almost without limit, giving us great flexibility for creating desirable moods and effects.’

Now, even allowing for the usual amount of exaggeration found in literature produced by sales departments of private companies, we should conclude that there is, at the level of perception for which muzak systems are conceived, a surprisingly uniform mode of response to musical stimuli. This means that although questions of incompetence in musical communication do occur at this level the transnational nature of these sound system corporations can be understood as a sign (and means) of increasing uniformity of response to musical factors at the functional level of perception in question.

It is obvious that the nature, content and effects of muzak should not only be an object of interest for internal corporative research but also be subject to musicological scrutiny on a public basis. Unfortunately, this complex problem is outside the limits of our present research, and we are merely concerned here with establishing the hypothesis that uniform systems of musical code with analysable content and effects do in fact exist, and that one such system is muzak.

4.1.2 Film underscore

As we have seen, one of muzak’s main functions is to compensate for sagging concentration by providing musical stimulus. This compensatory trick is also used in practically every episode of any US-American TV series when, just before commercial breaks, music is introduced, or its intensity increased, at an unresolved point in the plot to help keep viewers at a sufficiently high level of affective motivation, this deterring them from switching channels during adverts (bridge function). However, this is only one of many uses of music for the moving pictures.

Lissa (1965) systematises the functions of film music into twelve main categories, and obviously compositional techniques will vary according to which type of function is required of the music, the musical stylisation of non-musical noises (musikalische Stilisierung realer Geräusche) demanding different treatment to the use of music as a unifying structural factor (formal einender Faktor). However, we should not expect the average film-goer or TV viewer to be less competent at decoding the affective content of Musik als Ausdrucksmittel psychischer Erlebnisse than musikikalische Representation der dargestellten Raums or Zeit, despite the technical problems the differences between these two functions may cause the composer and producer. On the contrary, the history of film music would seem to underline the hypothesis that film-goers and TV-viewers, at least in the industrialised capitalist world, through seeing particular types of action, locality, personality and the affective experience involved in these scenes and connecting these visually registered experiences with given musical signals, have more or less learnt a common collective code of affective musical message. This view is supported by Lissa (1965: 117-118) who, in distinguishing between ‘autonomous’ programme music and ‘non-autonomous’ illustrative film music points out:

‘Die musikalishe illustrative Struktur ist in autonomen (programmatischen) Musikwerken vieldeutig: Sie weist hier nur stark verallgemeinert auf den musikalisch illustrierten Gegenstand hin und kann auch als nicht darstellend, als Musik an sich, perzipiert werden. Im Film entfällt ihre Vieldeutigkeit: Das Bild zeigt ihr konkretes Designat’....‘Die illustrative Struktur funktionert in der Filmmusik also anders als in autonomen musikalischen Formen, nicht als Motiv oder Themenmaterial eines 1ängeren Ablaufs, sondern ale Motiv ‘an sich’ als ‘atomisiertes’ Musikmaterial eines grösseren, uneinheitlichen Ganzen’.

Now, this type of musical perception in which a musical object is linked to visual objects or actions is not exclusively a twentieth century phenomenon. The Austrian film music composer Jelinek (1968:122) argues that the history of western music has always included both ‘visible’ and ‘invisible’ music, of which the latter has always been simultaneously associated with paramusical phenomena in churches, theatres, etc. This ‘invisible’ music has admittedly possessed a certain degree of ‘autonomy’ in the form of voluntaries or as overtures in concert versions, but it has mainly been connected and identified with particular actions, personalities, states of mind, etc. Jelinek (1968:123) also argues that ‘invisible’ music almost disappeared at the turn of the last century when oratorios and organ concertos (‘invisible’ music) were performed in concert halls (becoming ‘visible’) and no film music yet existed. Despite this exaggeration, Jelinek nonetheless poses a pertinent historical question: what music should have been used to accompany the new invention of moving pictures?

Although one main function of early film music seems, according to several reliable sources, to have been the drowning of extraneous noise from the projector, the public and the street, this Tafelmusik or muzak function was obviously also compatible with an illustrative, affect-underlining function, and although a certain amount of contemporary popular song was used, the main source of music in early cinema can be found in the classical works of the late Romantic period. This was a natural choice of genre, not only because it was the sole contemporary musical idiom of any universality both in conception and reception, but also because it was the only storable musical genre of the period. Moreover, there existed a considerable programmatic and illustrative tradition of composition from the operas and tone poems of the Romantic era which proved highly usable in the cinema. Thus, in the early catalogues of musical affect for use in connection with silent films, such as Becce’s Kinobibliothek, Gabriel-Marie’s Collection Drama and Dulay’s Musical Suggestions, there are references not only to music by less renown figures such as Delmas, Drigo and the compilers themselves, but also to extracts from works by Massenet, Puccini, Schubert and Rachmaninov.

The fragments quoted from these composers could obviously not preserve their relatively autonomous quality in the sense of intramusical processes, but were connected to shorter visual processes with whose affective content they could be identified. They were re-orchestrated, abbreviated and put into a musical collage to fit the action on the screen. This patchwork quilt technique of film music was deemed unsatisfactory by many musicians and producers who strove for a greater overall effect: it was gradually replaced by continuous scores of music, still drawing on the late Romantic heritage, by one and the same composer. When the ‘talkies’ arrived, however, the through-composed score did not disappear overnight, despite the fact that the soundtrack could now include ‘natural’ sounds which had previously been interpreted by means of music (Lissa’s Stilisierung realer Geräusche). In fact, the virtually through-composed Hollywood soundtrack survived well into the fifties, portraying fists flying, horses galloping, birds singing and hearts fluttering with late nineteenth-century art music harmonies and orchestration. Porcile (1969:43-44) cites composer Maurice Jaubert’s view, in 1937, of the average Hollywood film score from the early days of talking movies:

‘On a vu naître une sorte de langage musicocinématographique alliant les moins recommandables des recettes wagnériennes (n’oublions pas la formidable prédominance de l’élément germanique, même et surtout an Amérique, dans la corporation des compositeurs de films) aux suavités pseudo-debussyistes’.

Deploring the use of late Romantic compositional techniques in film, Eisler, in the introduction to Composing for the Films (1947), expressed his critique as follows:

‘Social tendencies to amalgamation of traditional cultural values (have) become commodities. Such tendencies were operative in Wagner’s music dramas, in Reinhardt’s neo-romantic theatre, and in the symphonic poems of Liszt and Strauss; later they were consummated in the modern motion picture as the amalgamation of drama, psychological novel, dime novel, operetta, symphony concert and revue’.

Eisler (1947:13) continues:

‘Mountain peaks invariably invoke string tremolos punctuated by a signal-like horn motif. The ranch to which the virile hero has eloped with his sophisticated heroine is accompanied by forest murmurs and a flute melody. A slow waltz goes with a moonlit scene in which a boat drifts down a river lined with weeping willows.’

Whether or not we agree with the value judgements in the passages cited above, we are forced to conclude that the formative years of illustrative soundtrack composition were marked by a uniformity of musical language based on the idiom of late nineteenth-century art music, and that this musical code is still part of the average film-goer’s and TV viewer’s cultural heritage. This point may be clarified if we review some of the more influential composers of film music which has enjoyed world-wide Hollywood distribution. Disregarding important figures of the art music world such as Saint-Saëns, Milhaud, Honegger, Britten and Prokofiev whose main influence has been outside the cinema, we should concentrate on such specifically film music figures as Erich Korngold, Max Steiner and Dimitri Tiomkin, the most notable personages in the musical history of ‘classical’ Hollywood.

• Korngold (1897-1957) studied at the Vienna conservatory under Fuchs, wrote operas, became Kapellmeister for the Hamburg opera and later conductor of the Vienna Musical Academy before joining Warner Brothers where he wrote lavish, uninterrupted symphonic scores for such productions as Captain Blood (1935), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) and Sea Hawk (1940).

• Max Steiner (1888-1971) was also born in Vienna and had written operettas before leaving for New York where he was employed as conductor, arranger and concert pianist. He was head of the music department at RKO from 1929-1936 after which he moved to Warner Bros. He was a prolific writer of films scores, finding time to do extra productions for Selznick in addition to his commitments at Warner. Among his vast output we should mention music for King Kong (1933), The Three Musketeers (1935), The Life of Emile Zola (1935),Gone with the Wind (1939), Casablanca (1943), Arsenic and Old Lace (1944), The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948), The Caine Mutiny (1954), The FBI Story (1959) and A Summer Place (1959).

• Dimitri Tiomkin (1899-[1979]) was born in St. Petersburg and studied at the academy of music there, becoming a concert pianist but playing piano in silent movie theatres in his spare time. Later he studied music in both Berlin and Paris before composing his first Hollywood film score in 1934. Amongst his works we should mention the scores for Strangers on a Train and High Noon (1952), Dial 'M' For Murder (1953), The High and the Mighty (1954) Friendly Persuasion (1956), The Gunfight at OK Coral (1957), The Old Man and the Sea (1958), The Guns of Navarone (1961) The Fall of the Roman Empire (1964).

In addition to these three composers of scores in mainly the late Romantic and impressionist styles, we could have mentioned several other classically trained composers, for example Franz Waxman and Hugo Friedhofer. However, a history of film music is not the object of this dissertation: we are merely trying to establish the point that, thanks to the world-wide marketing and dominance of Hollywood in the international film business, an efficient global audiovisual learning process has come into being. It is a process in which filmgoers living within Hollywood’s sphere of influence have, by recurrently perceiving similar combinations of visual, verbal, sonic and musical message, learnt to identify particular musical structures with particular types of character, action, movement, mood, environment, etc. Regular repetition of these combinations of musical with other types of symbol reinforces the symbiosis of musical with other types of message. Thus, the active production of musical meaning based on the musical idiom of late Romanticism and impressionism has become the passive musical idiom of an almost global film audience. We are in other words back to Lissa’s hypothesis (1965: 107-114) that film music loses its potential for manifold meaning because the accompanying image can supply at least part of the music’s paramusical connotations.

Since the nineteen fifties, when the artistic hegemony of Hollywood was to a certain extent challenged by European realist cinema with its virtual absence of underscore, there has been a tendency to move away from continuous soundtrack scores written in late romantic and impressionist styles, even in Hollywood. Music has in general been used more sparsely and newer genres, such as electronic music and jazz, have sometimes been used as idioms for illustrative soundtrack scores. One might also add that the Wagner-Debussy basis of the language of film music has been modified by the infusion of later art music features, partly inspired through the film music of Prokofiev, Britten, Walton and others, partly through indirect loan of ideas from Stravinsky, Bartók and Hindemith. It should nevertheless be borne in mind that clearly atonal musical utterances and the use of electronic music are more often than not associated with either sequences expressing danger or threat or with scenes of a science fiction or ‘unreal’ nature, while jazz, rock and folk music are still mainly confined to usage in sequences requiring clear geographical, social and historical connotation of environment and mood, being seldom utilised consistently as codes for illustrating changes in affective message throughout an entire film. One possible practical reason for the tendency to chiefly use art music genres in soundtrack scores is that music as notation can be graphically arranged and adapted to meet exact requirements of synchronisation whereas improvised jazz and orally transmitted rock and folk music do not lend themselves so easily to be timed into the confines of footage or precisely measured in numbers of picture frames. Thus the tradition persists even into the nineteen seventies whereby composers and arrangers of film music are recruited from traditional seats of learning to apply their skills, handicraft and theoretical knowledge to the illustration of affect by musical means.

To make this quite clear, let us exemplify this tendency in a brief account of the background and work of three film composers of the second generation.

• Georges Delerue (1924-[1992]) studied under Milhaud, won second prize in the Grand Prix de Rome, first in the Prix Georges Bizet and has written a large number of classical works. He has also written the music to Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959), La Peau Douce (1963), Viva Maria! (1965) and A Man For All Seasons (1966).

• Maurice Jarre (b.1924) studied at the Paris Conservatory under Honegger, was a musician in the Théâtre National Populaire, wrote numerous classical works, as well as the music to some widely shown films, such as Lawrence of Arabia (1962), The Collector, (1965) and Dr Zhivago (1966).

• Leonard Rosenman (b.1924) studied under Schönberg and Dallapiccola before writing film scores for Elia Kazan’s productions East of Eden and Rebel Without a Cause (both 1955). He is also known for the music in Hell Is For Heroes (1962).

It should be manifest from the discussion and the enumeration above that the stylistic basis of musical language used in most film scores rests largely on the European art music tradition and that despite certain changes in idiom since the nineteen fifties, we are still dealing with a system of musical code which the majority of ‘receivers’ in the film music communication process, through audiovisual learning processes mentioned earlier, have become highly competent at decoding. We may therefore, also in the case of film scores, speak of a generally coherent or uniform system of musical code.

4.1.3 Television series and library music

We have argued thus far that muzak and background music for films are two existing systems of uniform musical code with different functions. Background music for TV series and library music (explained below) may also be considered as part of the same system and as having almost the same functions as the musical code of film underscore. The differences which do nevertheless exist between film underscore on the one hand and, on the other, library music and background music for TV are attributable to economic and technical factors resulting in an even more mechanical application of given compositional techniques to given paramusical situations. If Hollywood film composers have tight time schedules, the production rate expected of composers and arrangers of music for TV is positively hectic. Now, time and money can be saved if musical formulae are rationalised and repeated in relevant paramusical contexts. It is therefore logical for musical formulae to be more frequently used in cases where a standard story structure, repeated episode after episode, week after week, gives rise to recurrent affective situations demanding musical illustration, than in the production of individual feature films. De Candé et al. (1975:572) describe the practice as follows:

‘Film music clichés are often used in commercial TV productions. Specific properties of expression and description are attributed to these clichés and are institutionalised by those who manufacture background music by the metre’.

The ‘manufacturers of background music by the metre’ are presumably producers of library music. Collections of such music abound, some of them specially designed for TV productions, but we shall not venture at this stage of research into verifying the extent to which such music is in fact used on television. We shall instead make a brief presentation of one particular library music catalogue to provide another example of a uniform system of musical code.

The Major Mood Music Library (1972, p.1) presents itself in the following manner:

‘The answer to all sound track needs... a complete collection of background music with an amazing diversity of themes... Compositions may vary in length to fit every need... including openings, closes, tags, bridges and production numbers’.

Later, in the same presentation, the company exemplify areas of application for their product, mentioning radio, television, newsreels, theatres, video recordings, industrial films and public presentations. The sales patter continues:

‘Whether you need a complete score for a fashion show or documentary film... or a single cut for a TV spot, you will find [us] a reliable source’.

Buyers of this collection of recorded material are then exhorted to look in a ‘Cross Index Guide’ (p.6) to ascertain which general mood category they want the music to put across. Let us say that we intend to promote a new product, purchasing a number of sixty-second commercial spots on television, and that we choose the general mood category big rather than action, children, comedy, danger, eccentric, eerie, foreign, industrial, light, oriental, pastorale, period, religious, romantic, tragic, travelogue, Western & Indian or any of the other categories. We are then invited to turn to the section exhibiting a list of suggestive titles whose corresponding music might fulfil our big mood requirements. We discover, among forty-eight items, nine of convenient length for our one-minute TV spot, including the following:

• ‘Aero Dynamics: one-minute commercial featuring big sky atmosphere.’

• ‘Ceremonial Entrance: a big grandiose fanfare opening ending unresolved.’

• ‘High Sierra: the wide open spaces of the West are suggested by this big opening theme... the grandeur of nature.’

We then listen to these pieces, judging which best suits the image of the product and the tastes of our target group.

Once again, it is impossible to state categorically that this type of music functions in the way its manufacturers intend. However, the very existence and profitability of library music companies would in themselves appear to indicate that such music constitutes another reasonably coherent system of musical code.

4.1.4 Title music

In these examples of uniform systems of musical code, we have so far considered types of music which are rarely separated from their original ‘invisible’ function and actually listened to as music in its own right. Whereas collections of muzak, library music and background music to feature films and television series are not generally available to the record buying public, collections of signature tunes from television and of film themes often have their own sections in larger record stores, and it is not unusual for theme tunes to reach the hit parade either as singles or on LPs. This makes signature tunes and title themes of special interest as objects of musical analysis: although originally conceived or chosen to align with certain paramusical aspects connected with particular characters in particular environments, the pieces can also be listened to, relatively speaking, as music per se. Put simply, it does not matter if buyers of a theme tune album have seen all the films or TV shows whose theme tunes they listen to. Such evidence from the everyday world of record retailing suggests that music written for or connected to particular characters, environments and moods may have such connections severed and still retain the aesthetic value of its original paramusical context.

Another reason for claiming some relative autonomy for title themes is that they are to a considerable extent intended as musical entities in their own right. Unlike underscore, which is tailored to fit simultaneous action to the nearest fraction of a second (music to picture), title music is often used as basis for the rhythmic editing of accompanying visuals (picture to music). Now, theme music’s special status will become clearer in a historical perspective, but we first need to make some general observations about its functions.

Signature tunes and title themes have three main functions, two of which we shall mention at this stage: (1) to attract the attention of potential listeners to the fact that something (undefined) new is going to be presented; (2) to prepare listeners or viewers emotionally with an affective musical description of the kind of general mood found in the subsequent presentation — an indication of ‘things to come’, of the apposite level and attitude of perception, etc. The first of these functions we shall call the general reveille function, the second the preparatory function. Both functions have existed since time immemorial, the former (reveille) in the ‘Oyez!’ of street criers, in the battle and chase signals of brass instruments and in the preambles to talking drum messages, the latter (preparatory) in the chorale preludes of the Lutheran church and in overtures to suites, oratorios and operas. Short opening numbers by music hall artists might also be regarded as a signatures with both reveille (something new!) and preparatory (ah! this sort of thing!) functions. Naturally, the reveille function of a musical signature need only be very short, and we may assume that the longer a musical signature becomes, the more important its preparatory function will be.

Silent film was the earliest mass medium relevant to our discussion, and we may consider the cinema pianist’s or orchestra’s overture accompanying the initial film titles as the first instance of signature music in this context. Depending on the length of the title sequences, the musician(s) might find time to effectuate a potpourri consisting of the more important leitmotifs used in the rest of the picture, a structural technique borrowed from the world of operetta and musical. This technique became stock-in-trade in the title music to Hollywood talkies of the thirties, forties and fifties. The loan from the world of theatre is especially apparent when, before the days of fire curtains, the theatre curtain would be raised and a piece of parchment projected on to the screen showing the credits in tasteful and effectively suitable script or typography, e.g. Gothic for horror, historic, Germanic, etc., Copperplate for love and romance. Then the pages of this parchment would be turned, showing new credits just as though the cinema audience were thumbing through their programmes while the orchestra played the overture to an operetta, musical or play. The initial title sequences generally lasted a few minutes, such a duration allowing film composers to produce the only complete piece of music they were required to write. These visual and musical techniques of making title sequences hardly changed until the nineteen sixties.

The change in title production method just mentioned is partly due to the totally different signature music techniques developed for radio and television. We do not intend at this stage of research to discuss at what exact point in history signature tunes were first used on radio, whether the chimes of Big Ben, the six Greenwich Mean Time pips and other such well-established ‘non-musical’ signals came before purely musical signatures or whether the reverse is true. We may, however, be certain that much shorter musical signatures than those found in the motion picture world (standard duration between three and thirty seconds) were a regular radio feature in the nineteen thirties, and that these fulfilled both a reveille and preparatory function. This type of miniature composition proved to be of great use later with the expansion of commercial US television in the mid fifties.

Whereas radio advertising had mainly consisted of announcements in conjunction with sponsored programmes, TV commercials seemed to require a different technique of presentation. Television time was (and is) sold at exorbitant prices, so it became imperative to make the most of the ten, twenty, thirty or sixty seconds at the advertiser’s disposal: words, music and picture must be combined in a multimedia onslaught to convey the sales message in an attractive but compact manner. One method of producing commercials, which is important to the later development of television signature tunes and title music, was to build the message around a piece of music (with or without words) and thereby establish a discernible rhythm in the visual sequence as well. Such methods required the use of superimposed text reinforcing the brand name of the product and its qualities, all of which demanded the sort of synchronisation techniques which had long been in use and reached a high degree of sophistication in studios producing animated and trick films. These techniques were later applied to the short title credits on TV, but when they were transferred to the cinema in the nineteen sixties, they proved too expensive since film title credits were longer and could only be used in connection with one feature. Thus, the lengthy animated title sequences to such movies as The Pink Panther and Dr. No were replaced by non-animated title sequences with as little dialogue as possible so that the title music could be heard without interruption, or the initial credits were, apart from the name of the film company, the film and the star, removed altogether and relegated to the end of the movie instead.

Since the advent of sophisticated television advertising in the fifties and since the application of its techniques in the areas mentioned above, it would seem that the creation of interesting title sequences for television and feature films has become an increasingly important part of the total production. Not only can this be seen in the change in visual presentation but also in a change of attitude towards title music. Previously it was general practice to let the composer of background music to a feature film also write the title music; however, since the sixties there has been a division of labour on this count, and well-known writers of popular song have often been asked to provide title music for a film whose background music has been the work of another composer. In fact, title music need not be written at all: it may be chosen instead, and it is interesting to note how there is less adherence to typically film music genres when title music is being written or chosen than in the composition of underscore. From early radio signatures, feature films have recently adopted the technique of borrowing from classical works of the past to find appropriate title melodies. Jazz themes have also become more common since the fifties and, more recently, pop and rock music, with or without vocals, have also found their way into the cinema as title themes. There is no room here to discuss this phenomenon in any detail, but two points should be made which have particular relevance to this study.

The first point concerns the addition of a mnemonic identification function to the ‘reveille’ and ‘preparatory’ functions of title music. Due to the general separation of title from underscore regarding both musical style and composer, we also find a difference in memorability. Underscore is less likely to be identified with a particular production, more likely to be connected with particular moods. Title music, on the other hand, has often been conceived so that a particular film or television production will be remembered and identified by its musical signature. In the case of feature films, such mnemonic identification can be used to influence potential film audiences to buy a cinema ticket and see a particular film if a recording of the title music is released in advance, or to influence potential record buyers to purchase a recording of the music (usually on a label affiliated to the film corporation) if they have previously seen the film. In the case of television series the latter procedure is more common and the identification function stronger since the signature tune will be repeated before each episode in conjunction with particular characters, environments and moods, not just in connection with one single showing at a movie theatre. This point is important to bear in mind in the analysis of such music, since we may assume that signature tunes and title music have been chosen or produced with the three functions of reveille, preparation and mnemonic identification in mind, and that factors of musical expression coded in the channel should be expected to reflect these functions. This point will be further discussed in chapter 5.

The second of our two points concerns the possible application of results gained from the affect analysis of signature music to the affect analysis of other pieces of popular music which do not have a signature, title or background function. This matter requires special discussion.

4.1.4.1 Application to other areas of popular music

We have argued that title music, unlike muzak, library music and underscore, is conceived and may to some extent be perceived as music per se without obligatory reference to the particular situation for which it was written or chosen. At the same time, these pieces must have been deemed suitable for the mnemonic identification of given characters, environments and moods. This duality of purpose puts title music into an interesting position, sitting, so to speak, on a fence between highly referential and illustrative background and library music on the one hand and, on the other hand, more ‘autonomous’ forms of reception. It is our hypothesis that detailed analysis of signature themes in their original context may be a key to the understanding of current modes of perceiving other types of music.

We have already seen that whereas film underscore, with its main function of underlining affective and environmental aspects in feature films and TV series, is largely based on late romantic, impressionist and early modernist art music idiom (and can thereby be considered as a relatively uniform system of musical code), signature tunes and title music, on the other hand, draw from a wider range of current musical idioms. At first sight this distinction seems to imply that title music cannot be considered a uniform system of musical code. Indeed, how, you may well ask, can anyone regard such stylistically divergent title pieces as Mozart’s 21st Piano Concerto (Elvira Madigan), Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer (The Sting), Wings’ Live and Let Die, Chico Hamilton’s music for Repulsion and R. Strauss’s Also sprach Zarathustra (2001) as part of the same musical code system? From a traditional musicological standpoint the objection is perfectly sound, but it is largely irrelevant in the study of popular music, since, as stated earlier, we are concerned with the analysis of music in defined situations of communication and with concomitant aspects of decoding competence. In other words, although film-goers and TV-viewers cannot generally be expected to decode the thematic processes of Mozart’s 21st Piano Concerto or Strauss’s Also sprach Zarathustra in their original ‘visible’ concert versions, they are nevertheless quite capable of decoding aspects of affective meaning in the ‘invisible’ title music version thanks to the audio-visual learning process previously mentioned, in which paramusical connotations delimit the affective semantic field covered by the music. Thus, the aesthetic practice governing which filmic situations are best suited to the use of various types and pieces of music which were originally conceived for more autonomously musical purposes may be considered to have led to an important modification in the listening process, in which original musical factors of expression and perception, such as form and thematic treatment, have been substituted by others, such as ‘sound’, individual motifs, the relationship between melody and accompaniment, as primary parameters of musical meaning.

There seem to be three main reasons for this modification of perception: (1) the length of an average title sequence does not permit extensive thematic treatment. (2) Perception of visual rhythm and movement may to a certain extent obscure or impede simultaneous perception of the more extensive aspects of musical movements found in thematic treatment. (3) The average film-goer or TV viewer, accustomed almost exclusively to the perception of musical entities lasting between a few seconds and five minutes, has little experience of decoding the niceties of classical art music’s thematic structuration. Similar arguments can be applied concerning the perception of improvised jazz whose performance in ‘visible’ situations might vary from three to thirty minutes, and definitely apply to the use of Northern Indian classical music in film contexts. The average duration of a pop single, on the other hand, requires no modification of mode of perception for these reasons. Instead we may suppose that music in originally non-popular genres will, in a title music function, be perceived as though it were popular music, pride of place being accorded such parameters of musical expression as ‘sound’, orchestration, timbre, individual motifs and the relationship of melody to accompaniment, rather than to techniques of thematic structure or thematic variation by improvisation. This all means that music, no matter what its original function, style or genre may be, will be re-evaluated by the listener when it occurs in a title music situation, its ‘sound’, orchestration, rhythm, dynamics, tempo and motifs relating to parts or whole of the affective message contained in the simultaneous visual, verbal and typographical phenomena shown on the screen. This implies in turn that all musical genres in such a listening context become part of the same universal code, each of them acquiring the referential qualities of generic archetype, for example:

• Viennese classical = yesteryear, quality, ‘class’; slow movement in major key = graceful; piano concerto = much feeling: e.g. Mozart in Elvira Madigan.

• Acid rock = dope, USA, young folks, California; fuzz on electric guitar, up-tempo rock drumming, both in late sixties style = modern, action, motor bike, speed; whites, not blacks: e.g. Steppenwolf et al. in Easy Rider.

• Late romantic, classical, symphonic = quality, ‘class’, big, important, rich; full organ = (quasi-) religious, eternal, overpowering; full scoring (whole audible frequency range at the same time) = big, total: e.g. first 21 bars of R Strauss’s Also sprach Zarathustra at the start of Kubrick’s 2001.

• Slow ‘cool’ jazz of late fifties = late fifties, ‘cool’, urban (probably American) environment, possibly underworld; baritone sax with swooping but slightly hoarse tone plus altered harmonies (11+,13) = expressive, sexy, slightly dirty, underprivileged social groups, drink, possibly dope, somewhat decadent: e.g. Johnny Mandell’s music for I Want To Live.

It should be clear from these examples, and from the discussion which preceded them, that we are also dealing with a uniform system of musical code when originally divergent musical genres are given a signature or title music function, bringing them inside the framework of the popular music communication process. We should also remember that music used in title functions can also be transferred to more autonomous musical listening situations, just as the reverse process has been shown possible. The question concerning us at this stage is: what musical factors in particular existing works render them suitable for use in conjunction with particular characters, environments and moods, and what characters, environments and moods influence the choice of musical factors when signature tunes or title music is to be specially written? Can we establish any common denominators of musical language in this field?

Our contention is that the theoretical establishment of such common denominators of musical expression within the confines of one given type of musical communication is not an impossible task. Our hypothesis is also that, thanks to the audio-visual learning process referred to on a number of previous occasions, a system of two-way relationships has been established between the affective content of verbal and visual message on the one hand and musical message on the other. This means that in theory an infinite number of combinations of a finite number of basic units of musical expression can be considered as corresponding to an infinite number of affective combinations of a finite number of basic units of visual and verbal message. An exhaustive account of relationships between two sets of infinite numbers of combinations would obviously be impossible, but the observation of regularly recurring patterns of correspondence between such combinations within the framework of one given musical function may help us to draw a number of important conclusions about musical communication in general.

The final point to be made in this context is that through analysis of musical factors and their visual/verbal connotations in relevant types of communication we should be able to establish workable hypotheses about correspondence between musical and paramusical symbols. This means that if, for example, we find the chord of the minor major seventh (mmaj7), played on the electric guitar, occurring mainly in connection with suspense, danger, murder, etc., or a quasi-modal cor anglais tune with string accompaniment mainly in rural settings, then we shall assume that there is correspondence between these units of musical expression and the combinations of visual and verbal message which constitute their respective connotations. Moreover, when such combinations of musical elements are extracted from their connotative situation and either played in a more autonomously musical situation or in another work which has not been conceived as background or title music, we shall assume there still to be correspondence between these elements and previously learned paramusical fields of connotation, provided the musical elements are contained within a musical language which the same listener is competent at decoding. This means that the minor triad with added major seventh (mmaj7) will not ‘mean’ the same in a Webern context as it would at the end of a detective or spy theme, and that the use of a cor anglais will not ‘mean’ the same in a Tony Hatch theme as the use of a similar alto range double-reed instrument might mean in a Balkan folk music context; although even here one might expect a certain amount of decoding incompetence due to the general unfamiliarity of dodecaphonics and Balkan music in the ears of the average Westerner. These questions of decoding incompetence do not, however, invalidate our basic hypothesis that it is possible to establish correspondence between elements of musical and paramusical expression within any one uniform system of musical code.

Having thus far reviewed certain types of ‘invisible’ music and having discussed their uniform codal nature, let us proceed to a presentation of methodological problems concerning the observation and analysis of musical elements and the ways in which these correspond to paramusical connotations.

4.2 General problems of affect analysis

So far we have defined the terms ‘popular music’ and ‘affect’ and discussed the relationship between musicological disciplines and the study of popular music. We have also presented circumstantial evidence demonstrating the existence of uniform systems of musical code, and underlined the status of signature tunes and title themes as having a dual purpose as both ‘illustrative’ and ‘autonomous’ music.

4.2.1 Choice of analysis object

It therefore seems natural to choose a signature tune or title theme as the object of our analysis because, as we have seen, observations which may be made about the music in connection with its ‘illustrative’ function may also, to a certain extent, be transferred to a ‘non-illustrative’ listening situation.

There are of course vast quantities of signature and title themes to choose from, and the reader may wonder why the Kojak theme has been singled out for analysis. One criterion of selection was that our analysis object should be distributed and received by large and heterogeneous groups of listeners. Thus, since a signature tune from a television production with merely national coverage in one European country might have far too local a character for us to draw any conclusions about the musical language of signature and title themes as a whole, we decided to select a theme from a Hollywood produced TV series with world-wide distribution. Having narrowed down our choice thus far, the reader may still want to ask: ‘Why Kojak? Why not Police Woman, Gunsmoke or Charlie's Angels instead?’ Since none of these series had been shown in Sweden no video recording of their title sequences was readily available, although M.A.S.H., The High Chaparral, McCIoud, Baretta, Ironside, Kojak and a number of other Hollywood produced series have been broadcast in Sweden. The choice fell on Kojak since it proved to be the most popular of detective series in that country and was specifically mentioned as an interesting musical object to be analysed by students in the author’s classes on the history of popular music. Thus a complete video recording of one whole episode was already available (before this study was started) of a Hollywood TV series which not only enjoyed great popularity at home but also fulfilled the requirements of world wide distribution to large and heterogeneous cultural groups (see §5.1., 5.2).

4.2.2 Problems of interdisciplinary research

Having narrowed down our choice of material to one object for musical analysis, a number of other problems soon became apparent. Apart from musicological problems, some of which have already been discussed from a general theoretical point of view, a number of difficulties arose from the intrinsically interdisciplinary nature of the subject to be studied. Since we have argued that the ‘meaning’ of signature tunes and title themes may be explained and verbalised by reference to paramusical concomitants, we are thus obliged not to analyse the music itself but the music in relation to visual, linguistic and social phenomena which manifest themselves in conjunction with the music, and with which the music is associated, such associations being to a certain extent retained by the listener even when the music is listened to without the concomitant paramusical stimuli.

The basic difficulty in this complex of interdisciplinary analysis seems to be that whereas various disciplines co-operate in the TV studio in the production of, say, a detective series, cooperation over traditional disciplinary boundaries appears to be a comparative rarity in the university world. The following list of university subjects and their area of application to the analysis of the fifty-second title sequence to the Kojak series should make this matter clearer.

Discipline Area of application

History of Art Visual symbolism, form, structure, synaesthesia

Media Studies Film history and theory, techniques, mise-en-scène, film & TV business

Linguistics Verbal messages

Information Theory Analysis of information frequency and redundancy

Psychology Patterns of perception and response

Sociology Social aspects of viewing habits and motivation; social aspects of visual, linguistic and musical message in plot and titles

Philosophy visual, musical, semantic, sonic expression and aesthetics

Musicology Analysis of musical ‘message’, content, structure, form and function; comparison with musical traditions

Economics Structure and goals of media corporations;

societal significance of entertainment industry

Electronics Technological aspects and limitations of audiovisual processes

in transmission of visual and sonic ‘messages’

Theology Weltanschauung; mythological symbolism; notions of God; iconology

 

Now, the holistic approach which we have advocated on a number of occasions in conjunction with popular music research would seem totally unrealistic with reference to the above, for how can any one researcher be expected to embrace all of these university disciplines and apply them with equal rigour? Not only does the terminological Tower of Babel of multidisciplinarity present a severe obstacle; there are also mutual misconceptions about the traditions, methods and purposes of the various academically isolated disciplines to contend with. It would appear that the only way to negotiate such difficulties is to follow the example of TV production teams and analyse media message in the same spirit it has been constructed, i.e. via cooperation between many areas of competence. However, before the atomisation of university disciplines can be overcome in such contexts, it appears that we shall have to content ourselves at this stage with partial interdisciplinarity, i.e. by providing sociological, psychological, political and economic perspectives on a topic whose main focus is musicological. This thesis should therefore be considered as an interdisciplinary study with a strong musicological bias. Unfortunately, there is no room here for any further discussion of interdisciplinarity, and we will therefore now proceed to present our general methods of analysis.

4.2.3 Checklist for the analysis of popular music

Bearing in mind all the considerations mentioned thus far in our discussion of the nature and function of popular music, and of title music in particular, it would seem logical to present a check list of factors to be taken into account in the analysis of such music. The list which we are about to present has been established, not to be slavishly followed as a method of analysis, but as a control mechanism, so that we may be sure that ‘no stone has been left unturned’, i.e. that no aspect of the music or its function relevant to the study in hand has been neglected. The check list includes (1) paramusical considerations and (2) musical considerations.

4.2.3.1 Paramusical considerations

Under heading 3.2.4 (p.67 ff.), we established a model of musical communication and discussed aspects of codal ‘interference’ and ‘incompetence’. It is clear that these points must be taken into consideration in the analysis of popular music. It is therefore appropriate to as the following sort of questions.

4.2.3.1.1 General aspects of communication

1. Who is transmitter?

2. Who is receiver?

3. What is the physical nature of the channel?

4. What social relationship exists between the transmitters and the receivers of a particular piece of music (a) in general (b)at the particular occasion of musical communication?

5. What interest and motivation do(es) the receivers have in listening to the musical message?

6. What interest and motivation do(es) the transmitters have in creating and sending the musical message?

7. Are we dealing with one- or two way communication? (‘Munication’ or communication?)

8. What technical or traditional aspects of coding practice influence the transmitter of musical message in his construction of such a message?

9. What interference is the message subject to in its passage in the channel?

10. What bits of the intended message actually reach the receiver’s ears?

11. What effects does the musical message have on the receiver?

12. What is the relationship between the transmitter’s purpose and the receiver’s reactions?

These general questions of musical communication cannot, however, be answered without consideration of more particular paramusical aspects, such as:

13. What is/are the intended and actual situation(s) of musical communication for (a) the object being analysed and (b) the genre to which the object belongs?(e.g. dance, work, rite, home consumption, collective consumption, concert, meeting, film, time of day).

14. Where does reception of the musical message take place? (e.g. home, church, concert hall, outdoors, car).

15. What is the attitude of transmitter and receiver in the situation of musical communication? (e.g.attitude of composer or artist to public, listening level and attitude).

16. How is the formation of the actual music affected by the above considerations? (Questions 1 - 15).

4.2.3.1.2 Simultaneous paramusical forms of cultural expression

The next battery of questions concerns the relationship between the situation of musical communication and simultaneous forms of paramusical forms of cultural expression. By this we mean all types of message communicated in conjunction with the transmission of the musical object to be analysed. We are thus dealing with observations about the possible existence and nature of such concomitants as:

1. non-semantic sounds which are not perceived as part of the musical discourse (e.g. sound effects, church bells, crowd noise, stamping feet, machines).

2. spoken language (e.g. monologue, dialogue, commentary).

3. written language (e.g. programme or liner notes, advertising material, title credits, subtitles, written devices on stage, expression marks in scores and other performance instructions, composer’s comments, lyrics, libretto).

4. graphics (e.g. fonts, design, programme layout, record cover, film or TV titles).

5. visual symbols (e.g. photography, film sequences, action, stage setting, lighting, camera angle and distance, distance from performers, gestures, facial expressions, environment, clothing).

6. movement (e.g. dance, walk, run, drive, fall, lie, sit, stand, rise, dive, swerve, sway, hit, stroke, kick, stumble; tempo, type and meaning of movement).

7. behavioural norms (e.g. at disco, rock concert, classical concert, in front of the TV, listening to the stereo, church, rite).

8. paralinguistics (e.g. grain, pitch, intonation, accentuation, dynamics, dialect of spoken voice used in conjunction with music).

9. acoustics (e.g.acoustic properties of the place of performance, type and quality of electromusical equipment, amount of reverberation and extraneous noise).

10. relationship between points 1 - 9, above, and the musical object to be analysed (see below).

Most of the questions in the two batteries above are not easily answered by musicologists because they lie outside our traditional areas of competence. Nevertheless, we intend to present a general description of those phenomena which are of relevance to the Kojak theme although, as has been previously stated, we cannot undertake a holistic analysis of this inherently interdisciplinary object of study, the main bias of this study being musicological. We shall therefore proceed to a presentation of musical-structural aspects in our check list for analysis.

4.2.3.2 Checklist of musical considerations

4.2.3.2.1 Time aspects

1. Duration of piece.

2. The relationship of this duration to the duration of other connected aspects of communication, e.g. film, church service, political meeting.

3. Duration of sections within the piece.

4. The relationship of these durations.

5. Thematic construction and ‘form’.

6. Pulse/tempo.

7. Rhythmic grouping of pulse, e.g. metre, time signature, divisive, additive.

8. Rhythmic texture, e.g. polyrhythm.

9. Rhythmic configuration and motifs (see also 4.2.3.2.2:3).

10. Periodicity.

4.2.3.2.2 Melodic aspects

1. Mean pitch, general register.

2. Ambitus, compass, range.

3. Rhythmic motifs (see also 4.2.3.2.1:9).

4. Melodic vocabulary.

5. Melodic contour, e.g. rise, fall, cascade, dip.

4.2.3.2.3 Instrumentational aspects

1. Number of instruments, voices.

2. Type of instruments, voices.

3. Technical aspects of performance, e.g. range, attack, phrasing, sound spectrum, vocal and instrumental idiom and idiosyncrasy, tremolo, vibrato, portamento, glissando, plectrum, type of strings, material, pizzicato, col legno, bowing, etc.

4. Mechanical and electromusical treatment, e.g. mute, pedal, microphone technique and placing, amplification, wah-wah, fuzz, phasing, envelope, ring modulator, octividing, etc. (see 4.2.3.2.7).

4.2.3.2.4 Tonality and texture

1. Tonal centre (if any).

2. Type of tonality (if any), e.g. modal, tertial, quartal (see §6.3, p.211 ff.), bebop, impressionist, late romantic, etc.

3. Harmonic change as long and short term phenomenon.

4. Bass figures and function.

5. Chordal alteration (see 4.2.3.2.4:2.), e.g. sharp, flat, augmented, diminished and added notes, inversions.

6. Compositional texture, e.g.dark, light, thick, thin, extensive, compact.

7. Compositional method, e.g. polyphonic, contrapuntal, heterophonic, homophonic, monodic.

8. Harmonic rhythm (see 4.2.3.2.4:3)

4.2.3.2.5 Dynamics

1. Variability, e.g. large, small, none.

2. Level, e.g. loud, soft.

3. Relative loudness of different instruments and voices.

4. Relative loudness of different sections or phrases or parts of phrases.

5. Type of change (if any), e.g. sudden, gradual.

4.2.3.2.6 Acoustics

1. Perceived distance to transmitter(s) (source).

2. Acoustic properties of the place of (re-)performance.

3. Extraneous noise (see 4.2.3.1.2: 1, 8, 9)

4.2.3.2.7 Studio recording

(see also 4.2.3.2.3:4)

1. Panning, e.g. left, right, middle, front, back.

2. Type and amount of echo, e.g. reverb., delay, slap echo, long, short.

3. Multi-tracking, dubbing.

4. Filtering, equalising.

5. Compression, limiting, gating.

6. Phasing, flanging, chorus effects.

7. Dubbing, digital delay, etc.

4.2.3.3 Comments on check list

This check list has been designed to be sufficiently exhaustive for application to any sort of music produced under any circumstances and distributable in any way for any function. However, it should be recalled that the check list is not intended to be used as a ‘method’ but as a means of controlling that no relevant parameter of musical expression is omitted in an analysis. Such a list merely asks questions: it supplies no answers. We may therefore at this point ask what elements we are actually looking for among our listed parameters of musical expression. In answer to this question, we must state our basic hypothesis that any change in any of the musical parameters listed above involves a change not only of musical structure but also of musical information, hence also a potential change of musical code and musical message. Obviously, these changes can be of both a simple and a complex nature, large or small, prominent or concealed. It would therefore seem necessary to give a short theoretical presentation of what we mean by ‘the basic elements of musical expression’ before continuing our discussion.

4.2.4 Analysis method: terms and procedure

The basic elements of musical expression which we have spoken of above and which may be found in changes along one or more of the parameters of musical expression in any object of analysis, would seem at first to be of a decidedly abstract nature. How, you may wonder, can anyone define such an element without carrying out extensive research on listener reactions using well constructed and statistically reliable psychological test methods? Although we have previously discussed this objection (and shall shortly return to it), it is a premature question, because no hypothesis of what a musical element might be has yet been presented, and because there is no point in constructing statistically reliable tests of an ‘objective’ nature to verify or refute a non-existent hypothesis. In other words, we need some sort of viable hypothesis about the nature of basic elements of musical expression before we can verify or refute their existence. What we are in fact aiming at are causal explanations derived from deductive processes and circumstantial evidence which will lead us to more workable hypotheses. This order of scientific procedure will not, it is hoped, disturb the reader, for as Bengtsson (1973:50) points out:

‘The derivation of deductions from rules and laws to other laws in a process starting from both a number of basic terms and a collection of axioms or hypotheses leading in turn to the establishment of theorems and other types of general models has been a normal process in scientific discovery, the empirical confirmation of such theories being often a subsequent matter.’

We shall therefore state our terms and hypotheses about the analysis of popular music, starting with an account of what we consider to be the basic units of musical expression.

4.2.4.1 Basic units of musical expression

4.2.4.1.1 Musemes

We have already stated that change along one musical parameter inside a piece of music [in a particular performance situation], by definition involves a change of musical information. We also promised to form an initial hypothesis about the nature of basic elements or units of musical expression. Charles Seeger (1960:76) puts the matter as follows.

‘A unit of three components — three tone beats — can constitute two progressions and meet the requirements for a complete, independent unit of music-logical form or mood in both direction and extension. Both variance and invariance can be exhibited in each of the four simple functions. It can be regarded as binary and holomorphic — a musical morpheme or museme.’

There is no room here to account for the arguments leading to Seeger’s hypothesis, but we shall adopt his term museme and the definition he gives it as our own, with the slight modification that the progression from silence to musical sound at the start of a musical piece or movement must also be considered as a museme component, so that from silence | Ø | to tone beat 1 | tb1| to tone beat 2 | tb2 | may be considered as constituting a museme, just as, according to Seeger (1960:85), elision of the final component of one museme into the first component of the next one does not constitute the cancellation of the museme status of either of the two units of musical expression. This principle will be clearer in the actual analysis of the Kojak theme (§9.2) but may be briefly exemplified by showing the division of the first melodic phrase into three musemes {m}.

Ex. 3. The first three melodic musemes of the Kojak theme.

Comprising an elision (g) between {m1} and {m2}, a propulsive double repetition of {m2}, another elision (c) between {m2} and {m3} [and considering the essential parameters of tempo, metre, rhythmic configuration, accentuation, phrasing, instrumentation and timbre], the total melodic phrase (MP) becomes:

A number of theoretical problems present themselves even after such a short exemplification of such terms as ‘museme’ and ‘tone beat’. The first problem concerns the fact that musemes are not the basic elements of musical expression and the second deals with the fact that the ‘meaning’ of these musemes is not only influenced by their syntagmatic context on a unidimensional time axis (just like the morphemes of speech) but is also influenced by the simultaneous occurrence of other minimal units of meaning (a much less complex problem for linguists). Let us try and clarify these points.

Pei (1966) defines a morpheme as ‘a minimal unit of speech that is recurrent and meaningful’ and as ‘a linguistic form that is not further divisible without destruction of meaning and is the minimal meaningful unit’. However, just as this minimal unit of linguistic meaning is composed of a number of phonemes (= ‘minimal units of speech distinguishing one utterance from another’), our museme may also be broken down into component parts which are not in themselves meaningful within the framework of the musical language in which the piece being analysed has been conceived. These component parts of musemes are, as we shall see, not necessarily Seeger’s ‘tone beats’ (see above), but are nevertheless basic elements (not units) of musical expression which, when altered, may be compared to the phonemes of speech in that they alter the museme of which they are part and may thereby also alter its meaning. We may therefore speak of a hierarchy of minimal items of musical expression, the most basic of which we shall call a ‘musical phoneme’ or basic element, whereas a museme shall be taken to mean the basic unit of musical expression which in the framework of one given musical system is not further divisible without destruction of meaning. Exactly how the meaning of a museme can be destroyed can be best exemplified if we take the first museme of the melodic line in the Kojak theme and substitute, one at a time, certain important elements within the museme.

Ex.4. Kojak theme, MP1: substitution of elements

Although we have spoken of ‘musical phonemes’ it should be pointed out that there is a danger in such nomenclature. Due to the non-lexical nature of much musical discourse, the more elemental our discussion becomes, the more difficult it will be to specify exact changes in meaning through the exchange of such small components of the musical communication process as individual tone beats or those items substituted in example 4. We shall therefore hereafter confine ourselves to the use of the term ‘museme’ as described above and leave others to coin a suitable phrase for the minimal element of musical expression which is a component part of a museme and whose alteration may affect the meaning of the museme of which it is part.

4.2.4.1.2 Museme stacks

The second problem resulting from our establishment of the term museme concerns the intrinsic difference between analysing the meaning of speech and the analysis of musical meaning. Not only is music ‘ongoing’, being continuous and consistently ‘elided’ until the end of the piece, but also consists of simultaneous messages which may in theory be considered and analysed separately but which in practice are all received by the listener as combined integral entities. We shall call such simultaneous composites of musemes museme stacks.

Ex.5. Kojak theme MP1: alteration of museme stack components. (a) original; (b) alteration of tonality type; (c) alteration of tonal centre; (d) alteration of bass and/or brass and/or woodwind.

The nature of these museme stacks will be clearer if we break them down into component musemes and alter one of them while retaining the other(s) in tact. Examples 5b, c and d illustrate this procedure in relation to the first phrase of the Kojak tune: the melodic line is retained but its accompanying musemes, or parts thereof, have been changed, such change of musical information altering the meaning of the whole museme stack. It would also have been possible to substitute flutes or guitars for violins and keyboards, or electric guitar for woodwind (instrumental substitution); we might also have altered the relation of melody to accompanying parts by changing the dynamics factor so that violins and bass were playing fortissimo and the horn mezzo piano (dynamic substitution); we might have placed microphones in a different way, phased the whole recording, changed tape speed, added another type and amount of reverberation, cut out reverb altogether or used an octivider on the horn (electrotechnical substitution). In all these cases changes in one parameter of musical expression would, as changes in musical structure and information, also constitute changes of musical code, thereby producing real or potential alteration of musical message at the level of the complete museme stack.

4.2.4.1.3 Museme strings

Whereas museme stacks may generally be observed as ‘vertical’ phenomena in a score, museme strings may be thought of as ‘horizontal’. In other words, museme strings are those units of musical code which are composed of a number of musemes not occurring simultaneously but in succession. The obvious example of a museme string is a musical phrase (MP), but there are of course much more complex syntagmatic structures than that (e.g. a sonata form movement, ‘macrocosms’ of harmonic and instrumental change, etc.) The nature of museme strings will be clearer if we make syntactical musical nonsense of the first melodic phrase of the Kojak theme by altering the internal order of musemes, as shown in example 6.

Ex.6. (HS) Kojak theme, MP1 as syntactical nonsense.

We might also have changed the thematic structure of the whole piece (see transcription, p. 140 ff.) by allowing bars 14-16 (B section) to occur first, altering the internal order of the harmonic sequence [(C-E$)-(C)] to [(E$-C)-(E$)] or by modifying the order in which change occurs in the accompanying parts, for example allowing the strings to play the insistent figure in the ‘A’ section (‘exposition’ and ‘recapitulation’) and to play their figure during the ‘B’ section. All these changes in the make-up of various museme strings would have meant a change of musical information.

Thus we may speak of three basic units of musical expression whose existence we have postulated by means of hypothetical falsification. These are: musemes (m), museme stacks and museme strings. However, thus far we have merely stated their existence and have not discussed their meaning and content, nor what changes in musical meaning are brought about by changes in their composition.

4.2.4.2 Methods of interpretative musical analysis

Having now established our three basic units of musical expression, we may proceed to discuss methods of establishing musical meaning. We earlier advocated a combination of hermeneutic, semiological and sociological approaches. However, we have, for reasons of space, zoomed in on the study of musical message primarily as ‘code in the channel’, discussing the transmitter and receiver aspects of the communication process in less detail even though they are both essential to the understanding of musical signification.

4.2.4.2.1 Hermeneutic intuition and initial hypotheses

It should be clear that the analysts of musical message cannot, whether their approach be hermeneutic or sociological, avoid responding in some way themselves to the music under analysis. Indeed, such response may even be considered as a prerequisite for the establishment of hypotheses which lead to the choice of analytical method and to the construction of not only semiological models but also of response test questions. In other words, some criterion of selection must be used, even in conjunction with objective statistical method, in order to narrow down the field of possible responses to music from infinite and unlikely to finite and likely. Where, one may ask, do the criteria of selection come from if not largely from the analyst’s own subjective musical experiences and observations, or at least from models of investigation based on hypotheses derived from another analyst’s own subjective musical experiences and observations?

Such an ostensibly subjective basis for the analysis of music may appear to be in contradiction to generally accepted scientific method, but it is our opinion that this subjectivity is a necessary and inevitable step in the comprehension of music and that risks of misinterpretation will be diminished if music analysts do not seek to hide this fact behind a smoke screen of technical terminology and the quasi-objective treatment of statistical data. Therefore, rather than fleeing in panic from the real potential of subjective involvement, we intend to face the problem head-on, using a certain amount of hermeneutic intuition as one means of tackling the problem of explaining musical meaning. By hermeneutic intuition we mean here an introspective process in which the analyst takes into account a subjective relationship to the music under analysis: what it means to him/her personally, what intermusical and paramusical associations the music elicits, etc. Such observations may in themselves be of little direct interest to the reader but are of underlying methodological importance since, as we have stated, subjective responses can operate as a starting point for the creation of hypotheses which, in their turn, can be modified by other approaches and other information in order to develop a more balanced and less ‘subjective’ method at later stages of research. We therefore find it expedient for analysts either to describe their own responses to the work under discussion, or to give a short résumé of their musical experience and background (as we have done in the preface to this study) so that the readers can relate, positive or negatively, to that experience and thereby more easily accept or refute the methods and findings of the analysis.

In order to make this point quite clear, the reader is asked to imagine two polarities: on the one hand a rock fanatic’s analysis of the first movement of a Mozart string quartet and on the other hand a Viennese classical buff’s analysis of a twelve-bar electric blues track from a recently produced LP. In the first case the Mozart allegro movement could ‘objectively’ be proved to be an inferior and less nuanced work of art than the blues number if the analyst were to present irrefutable statistical data about intensity of attack, occurrence of syncopations and subtleties of ornamentation, number of dissonant accentuated notes in the melodic line, variation of timbre, etc. (all intramusical statistics), or by observing respondents’ reactions in terms of physical movement (data about listener response). In the second case the twelve bar electric blues could ‘objectively’ be proved inferior to the opening allegro movement of a string quartet by similar presentation of equally irrefutable statistics on the number of chords, the number of themes, contrapuntal and thematic techniques, etc. and by observing listener response in terms of ‘understanding’ rather than physical reaction.

These imagined polarities of ‘objective’ approach are obviously exaggerated. However, they do make the matter quite plain: the analyst’s own musical experience and value judgements are of relevance to the reader. We therefore refer once again to the author’s short curriculum vitæ musicalis, found in the preface to this book, so that readers may have a clearer picture of what, from a more ‘subjective’ point of view, lies behind our choice of method. Through stating a personal position in relation to this information, readers will have a reference point from which to accept or reject our methods and findings. It would, however, be most unsatisfactory if music analysts just related their own musical background and personal response to the music under discussion. Clearly, much more information from many different viewpoints is needed before any hermeneutic hypothesis can be verified. Comparative information is useful to this end and we shall now venture to describe the processes whereby such information can be gathered and examined.

4.2.4.2.2 Intersubjective comparison

If we call the description of one’s own reactions to a piece of music an ‘intuitive’ or ‘introspective’ account and the establishment of a degree of consistency between reactions to the same piece played to the same person on a number of different occasions as ‘intrasubjective’ method, then we may, as Bengtsson (1973:153) suggests, call an approach ‘intersubjective’ if one establishes a degree of consistency of response to the same musical message between different individuals. We have already cited Kneif’s opinion that Kretzschmarian hermeneutics need to be combined with interpretations via ‘intersubjective recognition’ (§3.1.3, p.57 ff.), and are in agreement with this statement, but we have also pointed out that the construction of psychological tests and the interpretation of such test results, both natural consequences of such an approach, are beyond the scope of this dissertation, one of whose purposes is, as has been stated, to present well-founded hypotheses for the future construction of such tests. Thus, although we have used some intersubjective recognition in this work by asking musicians to describe their associations and reactions in connection with the same piece of music, such intersubjectivity has not been the basis of our method, but rather a subsidiary means of establishing relevant musical objects of comparison in addition to those supplied by the author himself. This intersubjective procedure, described later on in greater detail (§5.4.3, p.144 ff.) should therefore not be considered as a method of intersubjective recognition but as a control mechanism for the most important methodological aspect of our analysis: interobjective comparison.

4.2.4.2.3 Interobjective comparison

If an analytical approach which establishes a degree of consistency of response to the same piece of music played to a number of different listeners is called intersubjective, then we shall call that approach interobjective which establishes a degree of structural consistency between different pieces of music and of consistency in the type of paramusical accompaniment to those different pieces of music. This means that we shall consider such consistency to arise when items of musical code (musemes, museme stacks or museme strings) in conjunction with discernible paramusical concomitants are found to exist in similar guise and circumstance. This assumption (already exemplified in §4.1.5., above) is the basis of our analytical approach and will be termed interobjective comparison when the investigation of correspondence between similar musemes or sets of musemes in connection with similar paramusical phenomena is carried out.

There are, of course, obvious pitfalls in this method of interpreting musical meaning. Just as no-one would presume the same morpheme to mean the same thing in two different languages (e.g. French [wi:] and English [wi:]), it would be absurd to presume that a B$13 chord ‘means’ the same in the language of nineteenth century operetta and in bebop jazz (example 7).

Ex.7. Confusion of musematic meaning with B$13 chord: (a) Offenbach: La lettre de Périchole (cited in Knepler, 1961:20-27); (b) bebop harmonies for blues in B$.

Confusion of musical language might also result in calling What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor? a sad tune and Händel’s Aria He Was Despiséd (from The Messiah) a happy tune simply because of well-imprinted notions about the ‘meanings’ of major and minor modes in nineteenth century western music.

Ex.8. Confusion of musematic meaning, major & minor: (a) Händel: Aria ‘He was despiséd’ from The Messiah (1741/1902:83); (b) What shall we do with the Drunken Sailor (Trad.).

We might also ask ourselves what the chord might ‘mean’ in a motet by Palestrina, a single by the Searchers, an LP track by Weather Report or an electrified version of some British folk tune by Steeleye Span. We could also consider the symbolism of clarinet playing in a Mozart clarinet concerto and in New Orleans jazz and cite a long list of examples showing the pitfalls of interobjective comparison. To overcome these difficulties, therefore, we suggest that analysts concentrate on musical genres and musical functions relevant or comparable to the object under discussion. This would mean that in dealing with punk rock we would have to confine our references to the narrow area of anglophone pop music from the sixties and seventies, whereas interobjective comparison in connection with title music gives the analyst greater freedom because, as we have seen, composing for film and TV is a stylistically eclectic business: we could use classical works, films underscore, library music and even, at least to a some extent, jazz and rock as objects of comparison in the analysis of signature tunes and title themes.

In order to obtain as large an amount of relevant comparative material as possible for our interobjective analysis, a number of musical experts may be asked to tell the analyst what other pieces of music they are reminded of when listening to the work to be analysed. The music analyst can then add these pieces to his/her own list of interobjective musical associations whereafter he/she can proceed to investigate musematic combinations and paramusical concomitants of the analysis object. Our hypothesis is in this context that the more people one asks to make interobjective associations of the type described above the greater and more representative the comparative material will be. Similarly: the greater the number of musematic combinations found to resemble those of the analysis object and the greater the correspondence between discernible paramusical concomitants in the comparative material, the greater the probability will be of being able to establish correlates between musical and paramusical meaning.

4.2.4.2.4 Hypothetical substitution

Since we lack, at this stage of research, means of verifying a correspondence between the analysis object and our comparative musical material through the use of reception test methods and statistical data, it would seem judicious to establish a method of corroborating or falsifying such a presumed correspondence. This technique, which has already been presented in passing in connection with the establishment of our basic units of musical expression (§4.2.4.1, p.106 ff.) and which Bengtsson (1973:221-225) uses to illustrate theories on musical structure, form, material, etc., shall be called hypothetical substitution or hypothetical falsification and works as follows.

If, for example, we find that a slurred octave leap played forte by the French horn is, in our comparative material, associable with notions of action, heroism, etc., then we may test the probability of this assumption by hypothetical substitution: we could instead let the horn play a major second, a minor ninth, let it play the octave slur pianissimo or even allow the same interval to be performed as a violin portamento, or as a glissando on the harp or piano, etc. If we find, by means of a new interobjective comparison, that these altered musemes tend to occur in conjunction with paramusical concomitants which are not associable with the notions of action, heroism, etc., or with only part of them, then our original assumption will not have been falsified. If, on the other hand, our hypothetical substitutions were found to correspond with similar paramusical concomitants as those observed in our initial comparison, then the original interobjective comparison would be falsified, although it is difficult to imagine pianissimo harp, piano or violin glissandi over an octave being associable with such notions as action and heroism.

Let us, for purposes of clarity, exemplify the procedure of hypothetical substitution. We shall presume that the Swedish national anthem (Du gamla, du fria), together with the national anthems of most countries, is generally associated with connotations of positive solemnity and dignity, these connotations resulting from a learning process involving the association of the music with such phenomena as winning a gold medal at the Olympics, the pomp and circumstance of the ceremonial opening of parliament, etc. We shall also presume to have found intramusical similarities by interobjective comparisons with other national anthems and their paramusical concomitants. Using the first melodic phrase of Du Gamla, du fria as a starting point, we shall, as shown in example 9, falsify the hypothesis that it is (a) the melodic contour, (b) the melodic interval of the initial up and down beat, (c) the key and intervallic relationship of melody to tonic root position which are instrumental in the transmission of our extramusically defined affective meaning.

In all three cases the original melody has been radically changed (ex.9b,c,d). However, we may conclude that there is nothing specially undignified about these hypothetical substitutions. The first drastically altered melodic contour bears a striking resemblance to the Marseillaise and could have been made to sound like The Stars and Stripes for Ever, God Save the Queen or the Internationale. The second substitution (9c) might be thought to change the character of the melody since its initial museme (its ‘intonation’ in ecclesiastical meaning) is different. Indeed, the melodic profile has been somewhat altered but not the basically solemn and dignified affect. The third substitution (9d) sounds much like a combination of musemes from such labour movement rousers as Bandiera rossa, Venceremos and the ‘middle eight’ of The Revolutionaries’ Funeral March; it also resembles Beethoven’s setting of Schiller’s Ode to Joy, a triumphant chorus from Händel’s Judas Maccabeus, not to mention a passage in the middle of God Save the Queen. By similar hypothetical substitution we may on the other hand corroborate our findings about positive solemnity and dignity. This may be done by changing (ex.9e) phrasing, (9f) tempo, (9g) lyrics and (9h) time signature.

By changing the phrasing to staccato we have detracted from the piece’s dignified atmosphere and made it more reminiscent of the melodic line from a Perez Prado cha-cha-cha (ex.9e); by raising the tempo to q =130 we have turned the Swedish national anthem into an allegro piece and by lowering it to q =42 (largo/adagio) it becomes dirge-like (9f), while solemnity seems to be completely destroyed not only by the substitution of undignified lyrics (9g), making it more like blasphemous versions of church hymns like ‘While Shepherds Watched their Flocks’ or ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing!’ but also by stating the melody in 3/4-time, which would warrant a waltz accompaniment (9h).

It would also have been possible to alter the dynamics to pianissimo, to change the harmonic language of the accompanying parts to the 13+11 and 7$5 chords of bebop, to put the melody through a fuzz box, into the minor key or the Hijaz mode. We could also have let a bassoon or a piccolo play the original melody at an altered pitch or have made a number of other variations which, on a second interobjective comparison would seem to corroborate the idea that the last four parameters of musical expression (9e-h) are important factors in the communication of the affective properties of dignity and solemnity which we presumed the analysis object to own.

From this exemplification of comparison between hypothetical substitutions refuting and supporting different theories about which musical factors are instrumental in the transmission of affective meaning, we may assume, in the case of national anthems, that questions of tempo, phrasing, lyrics, time signature, harmonic language, melodic vocabulary, orchestration, lack of electromusical treatment, etc. are more important than those of melodic contour, initial interval, key and intervallic [consonant] relation of melody to tonic root position. However, it should be clear that the relative importance of certain parameters of expression in the transmission of musical message in one genre or in connection with one musical function cannot be transferred to the analysis of a work in a different genre or serving a different sociomusical function since, as we have previously stated, musical coding practice is to a large extent subject to considerations of function and mode of distribution and transmission.

So far all examples demonstrating change of musical meaning by means of hypothetical substitution have been at the level of individual musemes or museme stacks. Substantiation or invalidation of theories about the meaning of museme strings, on the other hand, presents a number of practical problems which should be clarified in brief before we proceed to the actual analysis part of this thesis.

4.2.4.3 Significance of museme strings

If we are able to establish hypotheses about the ‘meaning’ of individual musemes and museme stacks through the methods of interobjective comparison and hypothetical substitution mentioned above, then the reader may wonder why we cannot apply these methods in the same way to describe the ‘meaning’ of museme strings. This is an extremely complex question and will be dealt with in more detail when the problem of compiling the total affective message of our analysis object from its musematic components is presented in chapter 9. At this stage we shall content ourselves with an abbreviated and simplified version of the procedure which we intend to use.

Museme strings may be found at six main levels in a piece of music. These levels, in ascending order of complexity are:

1. Museme strings within the same one voice (part) and within the same one musical phrase (MP).

2. Museme strings as combinations of museme stacks within the same one MP.

3. Museme strings within the same one voice (part) over a number of MPs which together constitute one musical section (MS).

4. Museme strings as combinations of museme stacks over a number of MPs which together constitute the same one MS.

5. Museme strings as combinations of museme stacks and subsidiary museme strings in points 1-4, above, within and throughout the same whole musical movement (MM).

6. Museme strings as compounds of points 1-5, above, within and throughout the same whole musical work (MW).

With this rising degree of syntagmatic complexity the difficulties of establishing items of musical meaning by means of interobjective comparison and hypothetical falsification or substitution will obviously become greater. This is because it is often extremely difficult to distinguish between syntagmatic structures which actually carry musical meaning and those which merely exert a subsidiary influence on such meaning through a primarily constructional function although, of course, the order in which meaningful basic elements of musical code are presented is vitally important to the total meaning of the musical message as a whole. The moot questions are, in other words: what is the ‘meaning’ of a particular form structure and why has it been chosen?

We do not presume to be able to answer these questions but will at least attempt to discuss them in conjunction with arguments concerning the signification of form in the Kojak signature. At this juncture, however, we shall limit ourselves to a presentation of working hypotheses about the hierarchy of formal units of musical time which will be the basis of our interpretation of meaning in museme strings.

It is possible to extrapolate from the list of the six levels of musical syntagmatic complexity presented above that we are dealing with various parts of a musical work divisible, from a syntagmatic standpoint, into three main levels which, in ascending order of duration and complexity, are:

1. The Musical Phrase (MP) - experienceable as a unit of ‘present time’.

2. The Musical Section (MS), a complex of MPs which in succession constitute a unit of musical time definable in terms of discernible uniformity or consistency of musical code.

3. The Musical Movement and/or Musical Work (MM and/or MW), a unit of musical time defined by periods of musical silence before their start and after their finish. (Thus a news signature with a duration of 5 seconds can be an MP, an MS, an MM and an MW all at once).

We shall be basing our interpretation of syntagmatic musical meaning at the MP level on transferred and modified loans from generative grammar and the analysis of visual arts, whereas our discussion of more complex forms of structural significance will, of necessity, be of a more general nature. Although we do not intend to present these procedures at this stage (see chapter 9), it should be made clear that no part nor whole of any musical work, when considered socially in abstracto, i.e. as a physical object of sound (musicu), is equal to the same part or whole of the same musical object as a communicated and perceived phenomenon (musicf). This is particularly obvious when dealing with the signification of musical structure where the whole may not automatically be considered to be equal to the sum of its parts. Not only can the total message of a set of musemes be altered, as previously suggested, by permutation (i.e. [{ml} ± {m2} ± {m3}] ¹ [{m2} ± {ml} ± {m3}]) but may also be altered by the recurrence of musemes at particular stages in the musical process. Thus, although the ‘objective’ sum of the musemes [ml + m1 + m2 + m3] is equal to the sum of the musemes [m1 + m1 + m2 + m3] this arithmetical line of reasoning cannot be transferred to the communication of musical code and permutations of the order in which items of musical information are presented (musicu ¹ musicf).

We may summarise this principle as follows: whereas, for example, the sum of musemes m1+m1+m1+m2+m3 may equal the sum of musemes m1+m1+m2+m3+m1, the progression or permutation of musemes m1±m1±m2±m3±m1 cannot equal the progression or permutation of musemes m1±m2±m1±m1±m3.

This statement may seem obvious to the reader since clearly the musical messages brought about by minimal contradictory pairs of progression or recurrence (such as a±b ¹ b±a or a±a±b ¹ a±b±a) are quite different and common knowledge to both musician and musicologist. However, when carrying out an analysis of affect based on the interobjective comparison of individual musemes, it is easy to fall into the trap of mechanistically applying a sort of positivist practice which may best be described as a ‘museme assembly procedure’ and which disregards perceptual predominance, intermusematic proportion and structural significance. We shall therefore be analysing various musical processes in relation to each other and to the totality of the piece, determining whether these processes or the total processual character of the piece may be regarded as centrifugal (non-centric) or centripetal (centric), and establishing the paramusical affective nature of this centre and of the kinematic structure built around it.

4.2.4.4 Conclusions

From this general presentation of methodological problems in affect analysis we may conclude that our approach will be based on the interobjective comparison of musemes and museme stacks in the analysis object with similar musemes found in our comparative material. We shall also be comparing paramusical concomitants from different works in our comparative material and establishing degrees of correspondence between similar paramusical concomitants and similar musematic phenomena. We shall then compare these findings with musematic phenomena and paramusical concomitants in our analysis object and, through establishing degrees of correspondence between these observations, attempt to describe the signification of musemes and museme stacks in verbal form. We shall, moreover, where necessary, seek either to corroborate or invalidate our findings by means of hypothetical substitution. Our interpretation of processual and syntagmatic significance, however, will be based on the establishment of models loaned partly from the subdisciplines of generative linguistics and the history of art, partly from other areas of knowledge to be presented later.

We shall also base our analysis on a discussion and account of relevant paramusical concomitants and on observations made concerning the musical communication process relevant to our particular analysis object. We shall employ the ‘Checklist for the analysis of popular music’ (see §4.2.3) as a means of ensuring that no important musical or paramusical considerations have been overlooked.

Having thus presented general methods of analysis from a theoretical point of view and having stated the historical, social and musicological reasons behind our choice of analysis object and method, we may finally proceed to the analysis of the Kojak theme. However, before launching into a discussion of the theme’s musical parameters we shall first account for the relationship between transmitter and receiver in connection with this particular item of musical communication.

 

Ex. 10. Cannon

16 a.

Original

transcript,

bar 1 - 2

17 a.

Original

transcript,

bar 6

5 The communication process: analysis

5.1 The transmitter

The Kojak series was produced at Universal City Studios, Los Angeles. Universal is a subsidiary of the transnational media corporation MCA and one of the largest producers of television series. Like most of its competitors, Universal is a profit-making organisation: its annual revenue from export of TV series probably runs into seven figures (US dollars) but we should point out that Universal derive only 30% of their income from this source, the remaining 70% coming from sales to the national networks inside the USA. Given that an expensive TV production could in 1975 cost up to $300,000 and assuming the average cost of a fifty-minute Kojak episode to be around $200,000, Universal would only be able to cover about 10% of those costs if the series were to sell to such important export markets as Brazil, West Germany, Sweden, The Netherlands and the UK. Since most US teleproduct is actually dumped on the international market (see footnote 260, overleaf), US production companies have to look to the home market to cover production costs and to make a reasonable margin of profit. Some series, like Kojak, which according to Newsweek (1976-08-16: 36), was sold to over seventy countries and seen by over 100 million viewers, may well gain enough income from export alone, but the majority of US programming seen abroad must be produced primarily with the home market in mind. Indeed, a fifty-minute TV episode costing as much as $250,000 to produce could well make ends meet from sales to one US TV network alone, given that the national networks (ABC, NBC, CBS) pay on average $2,000,000 for one evening’s programming (i.e. $286,000 an hour between 5 p.m. and midnight) and that income from advertising will bring in around $350,000 an hour.

From these financial facts and figures we may assume that Universal must produce television series primarily for the home market in order to cover their costs as quickly and efficiently as possible. Now, according to the Broadcasting Yearbook of America (1975), 75% of all US TV stations are financed by income from advertising while the vast majority of the remaining 25% are of an educational or other public service character. This means that we may assume that Kojak, an entertainment series, has been produced for sale to commercial television in the USA (who derive enough income to offset high production costs), an assumption supported by the division of each episode into ‘acts’ allowing commercials to be inserted. Moreover, since tariffs for the purchase of publicity spots are calculated on the basis of how many people watch given programmes on individual TV stations and networks at given times, it is financially logical for commercial broadcasters to air as many popular programmes as possible. If viewing statistics increase, the broadcaster will be able to increase income from advertising. This system will consequently promote increased demand for the production of television programmes with instantaneous popular appeal. This, in turn, means that a company producing television programmes will find it also financially logical to meet these demands since their own income will increase if they concentrate on producing material answering the needs of their customers — the TV companies and networks.

There are obviously many important points to be taken into consideration when producing a popular series for television. To obtain maximum viewing success we may assume that the series should relate to existing behavioural, visual, linguistic, musical and other cultural norms prevalent among the viewing public, thereby avoiding ‘interference’ in the transmission of the message at a cultural level. However, at the same time the series should be given a clearly unique image. In both these processes music plays an important part.

The music for the first two Kojak series was the result of the division of labour between the composer responsible for soundtrack (incidental) music and the composer of the title theme. Whereas episode underscores were composed by John Cacavas, the title music was written by Billy Goldenberg. It would have been interesting to have interviewed Mr.Goldenberg and the others involved in the production of the title sequences to the first Kojak series, but this has proved impossible despite a number of letters to Mr. Goldenberg himself and other attempts at contacting individuals who could have provided useful information for this study. Notwithstanding this unfortunate lack of information, we are able to state the following: (1) William Leon Goldenberg (b.1936) studied music at Columbia University and privately (presumably composition) with Hall Overton after which he worked as arranger, composer and musical director for Broadway shows and for television. Apart from music for films and television he has written a number of chamber music works. (2) His title theme is copyrighted by MCA subsidiary Duchess Music in 1973 in connection with the first telecasting of the series, although the only published version of the music is a somewhat meagre piano arrangement of the theme for the third series (©1974, 1975). (3) The arrangement we are analysing is for a medium-size orchestra (50-60 players) and is obviously the work of someone with intimate knowledge of orchestration for symphonic and electric instruments.

The rest of our observations about the transmitting end of the relevant musical communication process must, however, be rather conjectural since, as stated earlier, first-hand information has not been forthcoming. It is for example impossible to determine whether the visual sequences or the music was recorded first. However, two factors seem to indicate that the visual sequences were produced before the music: (1) eight free 10¾ (10.75) frame clicks, equivalent to a count-in of two o bars at q =134) are stipulated above the first bar and the scrawled message CLIX (=‘clicks’) appears in the anti-penultimate bar of the original full arrangement; (2) although a new arrangement of the theme was written and recorded a year later, the visual sequences remained the same. However, even if the second version was irrefutably recorded to picture there is no proof that this is true of the first version since the presence of a click track is also useful in editing visuals.

It is equally possible that the music was recorded before the visual sequences. Editing visuals to music is not an usual procedure in the production of film and television titles and may be described as follows. A new TV series is to be produced: a manuscript has been written and the main characters have already been defined. The director can either choose a piece of already existing music or commission someone (possibly the composer of underscore for the episodes) from inside or outside the company to write a title theme. The composer will be informed of the intended duration of the title sequences. Now, the director will probably have a few ideas on the type of visual sequences to be produced: he will inform the theme music composer of those ideas and may also allow him/her to view any recordings of episodes that have already been shot. The composer will then write the music, after which it will be orchestrated and recorded with a click track in order to facilitate visual sync. However, one particular aspect of the Kojak titles seems to support the theory of its visuals being cut to music and relates to synchronisation (sync) techniques in the production of animated films. Animation of the type used for the sweep in patterns in the Kojak titles is more easily synchronised where a previously recorded music track lays down a regular metre. The reverse process, on the other hand, in which music is added to already existing animated visual sequences (‘mickey-mousing’) usually involves following highly irregular time patterns which would disturb the inherently integral musical nature of a title theme and its mnemonic identification function. A more prosaic technical reason for music preceding vision in the production of these title sequences can be found in differences between the alteration of duration in prerecorded music and prerecorded film. Whereas a short film sequence (e.g. VS4 in which Kojak runs down a street towards the camera and lifts his pistol to fire a shot) may be speeded up or slowed down slightly, and whereas it may be cut a couple of frames earlier or later for purposes of synchronisation, such adjustments cannot be made to a musical recording. Alterations of tape speed, even to cover an eighth of a second’s difference, result in musical nonsense, and cuts or splices can often play havoc with phrasing, attack, decay, reverb and volume levels.

Finding no definite answer to the question of whether music or picture was recorded first, we must content ourselves with the statement that both procedures are possible. It would at this point have been useful to know a little more about Mr Goldenberg’s role in the production of this title theme. In unanswered letters he was asked to describe the procedure involved, to state whether he had an orchestrator or did both composition and instrumentation himself, what he had intended the general mood of his title theme to be, why he had chosen certain compositional techniques, etc. It would also have been interesting to know a little more about his musical background, his main sources of influence, etc. However, since the main part of this dissertation is concerned with the analysis of musical message ‘in the channel’ and does not pretend to account for the communication process from the transmitter’s viewpoint in more than general terms, it would seem that the above presentation of the transmitter’s role will be sufficient for an understanding of the communication process as a whole.

5.2 The receivers

Apart from gaining nationwide coverage in the USA, the Kojak series has been shown in the UK, West Germany, the Netherlands, Denmark, Chile, Venezuela, Egypt, Israel, Japan, Singapore, Brazil, Sweden, in fact in over seventy countries to a total of over 100 million viewers. At the time of our video-taping (21:35 hours, 1 November, 1975) 2.8 million Swedes saw the programme, the equivalent of 40.6% of the total viewing public of 7 million.

The first Kojak series bought by Swedish TV’s channel 1 (for around $1.700 per episode) consisted of an introductory feature film and 16 subsequent episodes which were all preceded by the same title sequences. This would appear to mean that even greater quantities than 100 million viewers will have heard the signature analysis – the object of our analysis – in conjunction with shots of Kojak and his environment. Moreover, according to Swedish viewing statistics at least, the programme was watched by a wide range of viewing categories, mainly between 15 and 44 years of age, with a ‘medium’ rather than ‘high’ or ‘low’ level of education and by slightly more men than women. All these figures and estimations seem to establish the Kojak theme as a piece of music fulfilling all requirements imposed by our definition of popular music.

Having described the receivers of the communication process under analysis from a purely demographic viewpoint we shall now proceed to consider the context in which the message is communicated to the receivers.

5.3 The communication situation

We shall confine ourselves here to a discussion of the situation in which the Kojak theme was communicated to Swedish viewers in the autumn of 1975, although it is possible that certain general conclusions may be drawn about its function elsewhere.

5.3.1 Relationship transmitter – receiver

The Kojak episode we have recorded was broadcast at the regular ‘Kojak time’ of 21:35 on Swedish TV’s channel one, after the nine o’clock evening news (Aktuellt). After the ensuing weather forecast, Saturday night’s friendly viewing host Arne Weise, viewed in a simulated Swedish home environment, would proclaim the immanent appearance of Kojak on our screens. Obviously this ‘home environment’ consisting of a curtain, some flowers and an easy chair situated in the corner of a television studio in Stockholm is supposed to function as a reflection and projection of the home environment presumably surrounding most viewers at the same time (see ccr. Ø, ex. 19, p. 140). There are many reasons for people staying at home on Saturday evenings: young children cannot be left alone, it is too expensive, too dark and too cold to go out. We may also imagine the television being switched on either as ‘audio-visual wallpaper’ (unplanned viewing) or in order to watch certain programmes and turn others off (planned viewing). Depending on which type of viewing we are dealing with, the Kojak theme may be considered as fulfilling different functions. In the unplanned viewing situation we may, in turn, distinguish between two levels of communication. The title theme announces for those who do not happen to be watching television at that particular moment (they may be in another room) (1) that something new is starting and (2) that something of a certain character and profile is just about to begin. For those already sitting in front of the television with an unconcentrated viewing attitude we may assume the signature theme to be working on level (2), and for those who have prepared themselves for the programme the theme music will probably work at a third level: (3) expectations about a new episode in an exciting detective series featuring Lt. Theo Kojak will be increased while waiting for the action to commence, during which time the music will set the emotional scene for the ensuing story. We may once again speak of the reveille, preparatory and mnemonic identification functions of a signature theme. It is also important to bear in mind that the perception of the Kojak theme cannot be generally characterised as occurring at a conscious level. This is because (1) it is transmitted as ‘invisible’ music, not autonomous ‘visible’ music: this means that the music is not the dominating aspect of communication at a conscious level in an independent intramusical sense but inextricably associated with other messages — visual, mythical and verbal — and (2) the receiver (Saturday evening viewer) is in a typical situation of entertainment or diversion reinforced by the attitude of the TV announcer presenting the programme.

The above discussion of transmitter, receiver and communication situation for the Kojak theme may be summarised as follows. Universal are obliged, by the economic conditions of ‘free’ enterprise under which they work, to produce a widely saleable TV series. Commercial TV stations and networks are subject to the same competitive system and must consequently air as much material with popular appeal as possible. ‘Non-commercial’ television monopolies in capitalist countries outside the USA and the UK cannot afford to produce expensive television series, especially if recorded in a minority language, so will therefore be prepared to purchase prefabricated US teleproduct at bargain prices. This means that estimates of global viewing figures over one-hundred-million mark are not unreasonable. Since the differences in age, nationality, social status and cultural norms may vary considerably between individuals in this vast viewing audience, the programme’s ‘message’ should be widely decodable. Thus, the title melody for the series produced by Universal should literally have as ‘universal’ an appeal as possible in order to fulfil the functions of ‘reveille’, ‘preparation’ and ‘mnemonic identification’ in a wide variety of cultural environments. However, it should be obvious that the title melody to Kojak will be communicating something specific, and should not only be distinguishable from signatures for comedy or soap opera productions, but also from title melodies from other detective stories. How, we may ask, is Kojak distinguishable from other phenomena in the same genre? We may begin to answer this question by discussing the Kojak plot formula.

5.3.2 The ‘story’

All detective series episodes are based upon the discovery and solution of acts of crime, the capture of culprits and the execution of justice according to certain ethical norms. All detective stories on television must start with what TV director Robert Dellinger calls an item of ‘instant jeopardy’. Dellinger defines this notion as follows:

‘Invariably it comes out as a murder so that the audience’s attention will be held, and it’s advocated that it be in the earlier part of the script’.

There are, however, two main types of presenting ‘instant jeopardy’ and of building up the subsequent catharsis: ‘whodunnits’ and ‘howlygettums’. Kojak plots do not belong to the ‘whodunnit’ category but to the ‘howlygettum’ (=‘how will he get them?’) genre. This means that the viewer knows all the details of the crime — they are actually shown on-screen before the first commercial break — and then watches from a position of omniscience while the police or detective hero thinks and acts to mete out justice to the perpetrators of crime. In this respect Kojak differs from Ellery Queen and Maigret but resembles Columbo and Baretta.

A typical detective plot must meet a number of other requirements, described by script writer Edward Bunker in these terms:

‘In American TV the policeman always has to be the hero. Unfortunately that isn’t always true in real life, but when you write for television you write by a formula in which the hero — let’s take Kojak, for example — must do what they call ‘drive the action’, solve the crime. He must emerge victorious over forces of evil’.

The story shown when we video-taped Kojak was entitled ‘Deliver Us Some Evil’ and may be regarded as a typical Kojak episode from the first series. It was recounted by one of my students in the following terms:

‘Kenny is a delivery boy for a drug firm in New York. At the same time he works for a big-time crook called Van Heusen specialises as a “fence” for stolen coins. Kenny’s delivery job means easy access to wealthy homes. For no legitimate reason he finds himself at the start of the episode inside the home of a coin collector; he is about to steal a valuable Roman coin. He is caught red-handed by the numismatist’s aged wife who lifts the receiver to phone the police but is struck down in panic by Kenny who rushes away. She has been killed. Kojak is assigned to the case.

After this mishap, Kenny no longer wants to collect coins for Van Heusen. The latter tries to entice Kenny to take part in a really “big job” at super-rich widow and heiress Mrs. Farenkrug’s place which is chock-a-block with jewels, antiques, etc. As part of his legitimate profession, Kenny delivers oxygen to the old lady, and so has easy access to the goods. He is promised $100,000 for his part in the robbery, but declines. Now, Kenny is infatuated with a fancy woman who fleeces the poor delivery boy for every last penny so she can acquire furs, jewellery and other trifles. She puts pressure on him, threatening to finish their relationship if Kenny refuses to cooperate with Van Heusen. The rest of the plot shows Kenny and the others planning the robbery and Kojak discovering that stolen goods are received in “high places”. Thanks to excellent contacts with ex-criminals, Kojak realises that something big is in the offing. Kojak sees his chance to solve the murder and at the same time round up some of the biggest “fences” in the business. Kojak closes in on the robbers so that when they start their grand-scale burglary he is in total control of the situation, seated like a deus in machina in a police helicopter from which he directs operations. Kojak lets the villains commit their crime and duly proceeds to their rendezvous in a garage with big-time fence Van Heusen. All’s well that ends well and, after the compulsory final chase (continuous music score) plus the inevitable final confrontation and wise-crack, Kojak brings all the evildoers to justice.’

Although this episode may be typical for the Kojak series it clearly differs little from the basic plot formula of other televised thrillers in which an individual hero (mostly male, obstinate, of strongly individualistic temperament) conquers evil (mostly criminals). According to current TV norms in capitalist society, the hero may be a cowboy of the ‘Lone Ranger’ type, a policeman, a private eye or an US or British secret agent, while evil generally manifests itself in incarnations of law infringement of the more dramatic, concrete and easily televisable type, or as anti-‘free world’ activity by communist spies or super-sleuths from imaginary organisations of global terror run by intelligent but deluded megalomaniacs.

It would seem that the only basic differences between Kojak and other TV detectives are to be found in the manner of presenting environment and character. Since variations in plot formula and ‘moral’ seem to be so few, a number of ‘pseudo differences’ will have to be exaggerated in order to compensate for the large amount of similarity between various series. This technique of exaggerated differences of image and profile (rather than of underlying narrative) will be clearer from the comparison below, describing general traits of three US-American detectives who have become household names among Swedish viewers.

1. Baretta. In his thirties, a street-wise policeman and bachelor with Latin roots, Baretta lives with a fatherly retired policeman and a parrot in a cramped, shabby but picturesque New York hotel room. He has a stormy relationship with a fiery dark-haired woman, keeps a very ordinary car and is often seen with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Short and stocky, he wears jeans and a cloth cap, frequently uses disguises and is familiar with the slang and habits of the ghetto, these skills making for excellent contacts with petty criminals and the poor. He shuns all conventional red-tape procedure and comes across as a resourceful, romantic, individualist, imaginative character who often fights but shoots seldom. In his world organised upper-class crime is definitely worse than lower-class unorganised crime. Baretta solves all crime that comes his way.

 

2. Cannon. In his forties, this moustached and corpulent private detective lives in an expensive Los Angeles penthouse and drives a Cadillac. Definitely a non-smoker, this P.I. bachelor meets one new middle-aged and one new young woman per episode. Cannon is a muscular middle-class endomorph who uses his skills as karate black belt quite frequently, his gun less so. He is hard-working, individualistic, resourceful and solves all crime that comes his way.

 

3. Kojak. A bachelor in his late forties, this bald New York police lieutenant, is never shown at home. Although occasionally seen with a mistress, this ex-smoker with a penchant for suits unafforadable on a policeman’s salary, mostly appears ‘on the job’, sometimes wearing a Tyrolean-style pork-pie hat, sometimes sucking a lollipop and often driving one of his precinct’s Buicks or arguing with his trusted colleagues, whose typecast characters are also scripted with some care. Kojak is not of WASP origin. He uses straightforward, rough and colourful male slang and comes across as realistic, hard-working, individualist, resourceful. Streetwise and with a soft spot for the ‘little man’, Kojak has useful contacts with petty criminals and disdain for evil in high places. He sometimes exhibits hands-on violence and has been known to use a gun. Kojak solves all crime that comes his way.

As one might expect, the signature themes for these three series share certain common traits while they are mutually distinguishable on other counts. It seems probable that Baretta’s more youthful ghetto image may have warranted the choice of a title theme in the funk vein which would have been less appropriate for the more middle-aged figures embodied in the immaculately tailored Kojak or the in the square, staid figure of Cannon. It may also be possible that the cheerfully ‘Western’ character of the Cannon theme reflects more simple joviality than would have been appropriate for Kojak’s somewhat cynical nature and the more overtly violent environment in which he works. The similarities between the signature tunes for these three detective series can be accounted for as follows.

The first requirement of a signature tune is that it must be audible and attract attention so that the occurrence of something new on the television is clearly marked for those not actually watching at the time it is presented. This is why title music should generally start forte (reveille function). The preparatory function should be fulfilled by a musical code which clearly states that an exciting detective episode is about to be shown. This is why the music should sound as urgent and ‘important’ as a news or sports signature, but be distinguishable from these, if only on account of its duration. The music should not sound like the start of a love story or family drama, nor should it sound too rural or be conceived in a idiom which might lead the viewer to associate to bygone days, unless, of course, the action in the series takes place in the country or in the past. Cannon, Baretta and Kojak are in other words not Maigret quietly lighting his pipe in the nocturnal still of a Parisian alley to the strains of a minor-key valse-musette played on French accordion, as in the title sequences to the BBC version of Maigret:

Ex. 11. Grainer (1958) Maigret Theme.

Nor are our three US-American TV heroes secret service agents like James Bond, irrepressibly outmanoeuvring evil as embodied by SMERSH or the KGB (ex. 12).

Like Baretta and Cannon, Kojak needs a musical profile which will establish him as an individualistic hero driving the action amidst the excitement of a modern US-American urban environment. This means that the music should exhibit the following traits: (i) not too slow a pulse; (ii) a driving rhythm, no rubato; (iii) large numbers of short note values in the accompaniment [high surface rate]; (iv) clearly discernible division into melody and accompaniment; (v) an ‘up-to-date’ tonal language, no archaic or ‘olde worlde’ sounds; (vi) harmonic, rhythmic, melodic and/or orchestral excitement.

Ex. 12. M. Norman and J. Barry (1962): James Bond Theme (Dr. No).

The extent to which the Kojak theme fulfils these requirements and the way in which it is distinguishable from the signature tunes from other TV detective series will be clearer after the detailed musical analysis which follows. However, before discussing the meaning of musical message in the Kojak theme we should, having dealt with the relationship between transmitter and receiver, at least in general terms, also consider important physical aspects of the ‘channel’ in the communication process being studied and how this can affect our approach to this particular piece and its function.

5.4 The channel: practical analysis procedure

Since the analysis of the affective meaning of the musical code found in the ‘channel’ is to be the main substance of this study we shall now proceed to discuss practical aspects of procedure which are of relevance to the subsequent musematic analysis.

5.4.1 Sound recording

One complete episode, ‘Deliver Us Some Evil’, from the first Kojak series was video-taped on a Sony videocassette recorder (U-matic VO-1810), using a Sony KC-60 cassette. The recording was made by one of my music teacher trainees as part of a his course work. After watching the whole episode, the title sequences were viewed a number of times to verify that the video recording was of sufficiently good quality for our purposes, after which the soundtrack of the title sequences was transferred to reel-to-reel tape using a Revox A77 four-track machine at 7½ inches per second. This procedure neither improved nor deteriorated the sound quality of the original video recording, which by modern [1978] audio standards must be qualified as poor. At first the lack of high quality sound appeared to be a disadvantage and the notion of re-recording the title sequences in colour and hi-fi seemed attractive. However, there are two reasons for preferring a poor quality sound recording for this study: (i) such a recording is typical of the type of signal issuing from the tiny mono speakers with which most television sets are currently supplied; (2) although we do not presume the original recording of the Kojak theme to be of inferior quality to the master tape of a pop single (i.e. they are probably both of high sound quality), we nevertheless hold it likely that it has been mixed bearing in mind the conditions of sound reproduction under which it is likely to be received, in the same way as many pop singles are mixed with reference to their plugging over mono AM radio through tiny speakers on transistor radios and in cars.

5.4.2 Transcription

After listening through the signature many times it was transcribed. The reader may object that a mediocre sound recording will result in inaccurate transcription. This is of course true of some orchestrational found in the original orchestral full score (OOFS), but is in no way true of the communication situation we are intending to describe: Saturday evening on the sofa in front of a TV set with a tiny mono speaker. Thus, a transcript was produced in which duration, metre, tempo, key, harmony, dynamics, melody and bass line proved to be in total accordance with the original arrangement actually used at the recording session whereas there were found to be minor discrepancies between the transcript and the original version as regards orchestrational detail, exact pitch in accompanying parts, phrasing and mode of playing. However, the original full arrangement loaned to the author by Universal City Studios was neither consulted nor available (indeed, it even seemed doubtful whether it would ever become available) until after our analysis, based solely on aural experience, and the transcription, made for practical reasons in this connection, were both complete. This was a consciously chosen modus operandi to avoid the pitfall of confusing musicg (a written Urquelle) with musicf (as perceived by the listener — in this case the author or anyone else hearing sound through a TV set in the mid-seventies). Therefore, our analysis is based on what is audible and distinguishable on the recording, not on what is written on the full orchestral arrangement used by the musicians who made the recording. In other words we have attempted to use the natural medium of storing and reproducing television music — video recording, television loudspeakers and their inherent sound properties — rather than unusual modes of storage and reproduction — full score and stereo/hi-fi — as a basis for our analysis. Obviously, a transcript made for the normal listening situation will contain less detail than was present at the initial recording session of the title sequences (an abnormal listening situation). On the other hand such a transcript emphasises the most important parameters of musical expression in the normal listening situation (musicu, musicf), clearly exhibiting the dominance of certain musical factors over others, observations which are difficult to make when basing analysis on written sources (music g ).

We will now account for problems in the transcription process and compare our original transcript (the basis of our analysis) with the original score (i.e. the full orchestral arrangement on 32-stave paper as supplied on loan by the music department at Universal City Studios). The first problems concern copyright: I was not allowed to publish the complete orchestral score of the Kojak theme, but was granted permission to publish a four-part arrangement and to quote excerpts. The transcription published in this thesis is based on our original six-stave transcription (which we are also unable to publish for copyright reasons) and on the complete 32-stave score provided by Universal. The other problems are of a more musical nature and concern the exact notation of orchestrational detail, especially the exact pitch, rhythm and phrasing of accompanying parts.

The differences between our original transcript (OT) (musicu based solely on musicf) and the original orchestral full score from Universal (OOFS) (musicg without musicu) may be clarified by comparing the last eight bars of the Kojak theme in these two versions (cf. ex.10a and 11), the point at which there was the greatest degree of divergence between the two. These differences, mostly concerning orchestral detail, may be summarised as follows:

1. The melody is not only played by French horns in F a 4 but is also doubled by electric guitar 2 (instructed in the OOFS to play with ‘full-round tone’) and celli (both at the same pitch as the horns), as well as by third violins, an octave higher.

2. The bass line is not only played by electric bass and double bass, but also fortissimo by tuba (OOFS, p.1), not by bass trombone.

3. The repeated semiquaver figure over the C and E$ suspensions in octaves 4 and 5 is not played by violins but by a Moog sequencer.

4. There are three, not four trombones playing accompanying quavers.

Ex. 13. Kojak theme – original transcript, b.20-28...

Examples 13 and 14 © Duchess Music Corporation, 1973.

Ex. 14. Kojak theme – final transcript, b.21-28...

5. The bass rhythm in bars 2, 4 and 24 is written | q . e q . e |, not | q ä e q ä e|.

6. Trumpets, harp, xylophone and piano double flutes for the stab in bar 21.

7. The last bar’s rhythm on low c is written , not as we heard it, the crotchet rest marking the reverb time of the final chord.

In fact, all discrepancies between the OT (ex.13|x10a) and the OOFS (ex.15|x11), also in other parts of the piece are either of an orchestrational or musically orthographic character. This should be clearer from the following list of discrepancies and from a perusal of the comparative musical examples 15 through 18.

1. Inaudible musical factors found in the OOFS.

1. Harp, xylophone, piano, electric guitars, drums (traps), trumpets, third violins, cellos are all inaudible on the recording.

2. The piece is written without key signature, not with three flats.

3. Bars 14-17 (final transcript [FT]) are written as 4 combinations of 3/4 + 2/4 bars, not as consecutive 5/4 bars.

4. The repeated harmonic changes Fmaj7-A$3 in bars 15-17 are written (OOFS), not (OT).

2. Indistinguishable aspects in the OOFS.

1. The harmonic filling of bars 1-11 is not provided by sustained brass chords, as in the OT — — but by trills in the string parts — (OOFS).

2. The bass line of bars 1-5 is doubled not only by tuba but also (an octave up) by electric guitars. It is also doubled at certain points in the piece (b. 5-13, 15-17, 18-28) by timpani.

3. The rhythm of the accompanying trombones was only distinguishable on the recording in pauses between melodic phrases.

4. The stabs were correctly transcribed in the OT in terms of rhythm and tonal vocabulary, but were sometimes written at the wrong pitch (octave 4-5 instead of 5-6) and were presumed to be played by woodwind alone, not doubled, an octave lower by trumpets and xylophone, and, at the same pitch, by piano and harp.

 

 

5. The repeated semiquaver figure in octave 4-5 was presumed in the OT to be played by violins whereas in the OOFS it is played by Moog sequencer.297 What we original1ly transcribed as one of the following possibilities

proved to be in the OOFS.

6. The figure cannot be distinguished in bars 15 – 18 on the recording although the OOFS shows it sounding throughout the entire piece.

7. A sequential rise in the underlying string harmonies (see below) is audible in bars 18-20 of the recording, but not distinguishable in exact pitch. We thought that no.1, below, was a likely progression in our OT, whereas no.2 is what the OOFS shows the strings to be playing at this point.

8. It will also be noted that we considered the horn melody to be played cantabile, legato e forte, not merely unison forte a 4, and that we heard the bass part as being played staccato non troppo ma pesante, not just ƒ or ƒƒ. These interpretations made by the author and some of his ‘experts’ on listening to the Kojak theme do not occur in the OOFS in the form of instructions to the players and must be considered either as natural results of normal interpretational technique on the part of the executing musicians, or as subjective reactions by the author and his companions. In any case, this aspect of divergency between the OT and the OOFS make clear the difference between musicg and musicf in the context of analysis.

 

[main text continues on page 143]

 

Ex. 15. Billy Goldenberg (1973): Kojak theme, full score, bars 21-28.

© Duchess Music Corporation.

 

Ex. 16. Goldenberg: Kojak theme: notated versions – comparison bars 1-2.

Ex. 17. Goldenberg: Kojak theme: notated versions – comparison bar 6

Ex. 18. Goldenberg: Kojak theme notated versions – comparison bars 17-18

Ex. 19. Kojak theme – final transcription.

It will be clear from the discussion and exemplifications above, and from our final transcript (ex. 19) that our analysis is primarily concerned with what is actually audible and perceptible in the average listening situation we have described. We cite the full orchestral score (OOFS) from which the musicians on our recording played as reference only, presuming our transcript (OT or FT) to be a closer graphical representation of what was actually communicated to average viewers among the 100 million who saw and heard the title sequences to the first Kojak series. Our hypothesis is that the various instruments have been recorded at widely different dynamic levels at the final mix, almost to the extent that certain parts in the OOFS seem to be absent. We base this hypothesis on definite differences between the OOFS and the recording used in our analysis, such as the actual substitution of a 2/4 bar (musicf) instead of a 4/4 bar (musicg) at bar 23, and the substitution of (musicf) instead of (musicm) in bars 14-17

We are, in other words, concerned with an analysis of the musical object (musicu), not as conceived or executed by the transmitters (musicu + musicg) but in the form in which we assume it to be communicated to and perceived by the average listener in the average listening situation (musicu + musicf).300 This does not mean to say that average listeners will be aware of all the musical information we present in our final transcription or even that they will ‘hear’ all the details in this simplified presentation since, as has been previously pointed out, the reception of popular music does not presuppose concentrated listening. Nevertheless, if the reveille, preparatory and mnemonic identification functions of this signature theme are to be fulfilled, we may assume that these will be communicated via the music and may be analysed. Therefore the transcript we have presented above (ex. 19) should be regarded as a means of graphically recording the parameters of musical expression which carry the musical message to be analysed in the listening situation we are dealing with and also as a practical alternative to the inclusion of an actual sound recording of the theme as an appendix to this thesis. (Admittedly, a more practical solution from the reader’s viewpoint would have been to present a cassette of the recording under analysis in connection with this thesis. However, such a solution would involve difficulties with mechanical copyright, an even more complicated legal problem than the citation of musical notation).

It must seem inconsistent to readers at this point to find themselves facing the Kojak theme, the object of our analysis, in written form after all the arguments we have presented on the advantages of using sounding sources as a basis for analysing popular music. This dilemma is caused by purely technical problems of publication and copyright. However, as the reader will no doubt realise, the analysis presented in this thesis is primarily based on sounding sources; moreover, our transcription of the Kojak theme does not run the same risk of being an inaccurate means of recording the actual sound process as might be found when transcribing rock music, folk music or blues, since problems of notation in connection with the Kojak theme mainly concern minor orchestrational details, such as those accounted for above, and not important aspects of the idiom rendering it foreign to standard musical notation. Thus, since we not only escape the difficulties of graphically recording non-diatonic pitch, rhythmic license, frequent modification of timbre, etc., but also electronic treatment, such as phasing, fuzz and wah-wah, we find that notation can, in this case, reproduce most of the important parameters of musical expression found in the piece. We should, however, state in this context a certain amount of transcriptional difficulty concerning the use of reverb and the placement of microphones. As mentioned above, it seems probable that the relative dynamics of individual instrumental parts in this piece have been adjusted during the mix, but we should also point out that a considerable amount of reverb has been added to the recording. One of the main reasons for adding such reverb (apart from counteracting the invariably ‘dead’ acoustics of recording studio environments) is to bring about an illusion of large space, imitating the acoustics of a large concert hall and giving the recording a broad or even ‘symphonic’ dimension.

We may summarise this section on transcription by stating that our transcript is designed to graphically record the most important parameters of musical expression in the Kojak theme as distinguishable on the recording described in §5.4.1., above. The original orchestral full score (OOFS) was consulted as reference material, partly to correct eventual errors of transcription (see above), partly to determine musical structures imperceptible in the video recording. The transcript is included in this book as a reference for the reader and as a legally less hazardous alternative to the publication of a cassette recording of the piece.

5.4.3 Associational procedure

During the recording and transcription work described above, the author noted a number of similarities between the Kojak theme and other pieces of music in a wide variety of styles. In order to obtain as long a list of as possible of such ‘other pieces’, the recording was then played (without reference to its title and without accompanying visual message) to a number of musical ‘experts’ or ‘consultants’ with a wide variety of musical background and experience, from dance music to symphonic repertoire and from jazz to opera. These experts were asked to listen to the Kojak theme a number of times and write down the names of other pieces of music which they found in any way similar to what they were listening to. If they could not name a particular work, they were encouraged to write down the composer, artist or type of music to which they associated. These comments were then added to a list of the author’s own associations and an interobjective comparison was undertaken (see §4.2.4.2, p.110, ff.).

It should be underlined at this stage that these musical ‘consultants’ or ‘experts’ may not be regarded as respondents in the traditional sense. This is partly because they are not representative of the television audience upon whose hypothetical patterns of musical reception we base part of our approach to this analysis. For example, only two of the ten ‘experts’ could actually identify the piece, having watched Kojak more than once (20% instead of the Swedish national average of 40%, see §5.2). Moreover they were far too few in number to be considered as a statistically reliable group of respondents and were all either professional musicians or teachers of music. However, it is interesting to note that they all presumed the piece to be a signature tune to an adventure or detective film or series, and most of them thought the music to be of North American origin. Be that as it may, the function of our ‘experts’ was not to provide audience associations and reactions — they were neither sufficiently numerous nor representative — but to furnish the author with a greater supply of possible material for interobjective comparison.

When enough interobjective comparative material (IOCM) became available, all the pieces to which the ‘experts’ or the author had associated were either listened to in sound-recorded form a number of times or studied as scores in order to ascertain whether there were any points of structural resemblance between the Kojak theme and the comparative material. These points of resemblance were then categorised in the form of individual musemes or museme compounds in the Kojak theme with an ensuing list of their occurrence in similar guise in other works. For example, the list enumerating correspondence to the octave portamento (the horn ‘whoop’) in the first bar of the Kojak theme included such works as the FBI Theme, Mahler’s Lied von der Erde, the title music to The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, the ‘man’s theme’ from R. Strauss’s Don Juan, the theme from The Brothers and The Saint, the start of R Strauss’s Ein Heldenleben, the main theme from How The West Was Won, etc. Paramusical connotations of these items of IOCM (comparative material) were then studied and, if a degree of similarity between the paramusical concomitants of the pieces (or sections of pieces) containing the relevant museme or museme compound was found (in this case an octave leap from fifth to fifth in consonance with underlying harmony), this was noted and the common denominator of those paramusical connotations was then taken to be applicable to the interpretation of the affective meaning of the museme under analysis in the Kojak theme.

5.4.4 Video recording

The video recording of the title sequences is in black and white, not in colour. This is obviously a disadvantage in the analysis of visual message, since such important expressive visual aspects as colour symbolism cannot be discussed or used as paramusical concomitants to the Kojak theme. However, the same argument that was presented for using normal sound reproduction as a source for musical analysis can to a certain extent be applied to the area of visual reproduction. Although only a minority of viewers in such nations as the USA, the UK and Sweden do not watch colour TV, it is still important for TV producers to make such popular programmes as Kojak effective on black and white sets too, in much the same way as the production of pop singles must be designed to be effective over mono AM radio. Moreover, the analysis of visual message does not constitute the main part of this study and the amount of pictorial information contained in our black and white version of the title sequences to Kojak is quite sufficient to permit analysis of the most important aspects of this visual message and to establish points of correspondence and discrepancy between the music and its visible paramusical concomitants.

In order to facilitate analysis of pictorial message and to permit the reader to visualise this part of our analysis, still shots of the Kojak titles were taken at approximately 1½ second intervals and have been reproduced above the transcript (ex.19, p.140).

5.5 Conclusions

We have now established the basic hypotheses, terms, definitions and procedure to be used in this thesis. We have described the theoretical background to the study and defined its scope and aims. We have yet to give a detailed description of our methods of analysing visual message and other relevant phenomena, such as mythology, gesture, etc. Since these aspects will be treated in a more general fashion than the analysis of primarily musical message, such method and procedure as has been employed will be presented in conjunction with discussion of these phenomena at a later stage in the thesis. The same applies to our use of tree diagrams, our presentation of centric and non-centric musical form and other aspects of syntagmatic musical meaning.

We find therefore that enough has been said at this stage to proceed to analysis of the individual musemes and museme stacks of the Kojak theme.

18 a. Original transcript, bars 17 - 18

18 b. Full score, bars 17 - 18

17 b.

Full score,

transcript,

bar 6

17 c.

Final

transcript,

bar 6

16 b.

Full score,

bar 1 - 2

16 c.

Final

transcript,

bar 1 - 2

© Duchess Music Corporation, 1973

18 c. Final transcript, bars 17 - 18

© Duchess Music Corporation, 1973

Example 19: Kojak – Main Title (Goldenberg)

© Duchess Music Corporation, 1973

© Duchess Music Corporation, 1973. Transcribed and arranged by permission

 

4b (trombones, timpani, traps) and 4c (timpani, traps, electric guitars, electric bass, double bass, tuba, piano) are rnusemes or episodic markers of finality.

6 Musematic analysis

In this chapter we will be discussing the meaning of musemes and museme stacks in the Kojak theme. Having defined a museme as the minimal meaningful unit of musical expression in a given genre and context, and expecting its duration to be less than that of a musical phrase, we will start by identifying the theme tune’s musemes structurally. These may be divided into three main categories — (1) melodic (2) accompanying, (3) contrasting — and are all listed in the Table of Musemes in figure 8 (pp. 148-149).

In the first melodic phrase (®) we find three melodic musemes: m1a1, m1b1 and m1c1 (see also fig. 8).

Two of these musemes (1b1 and 1c1) also occur in bars 20-23 of the bass part, a twelfth lower than just shown. These bass musemes have been dubbed 1b3 and 1c2.

It will be noted that m1c2 is a direct transposition of m1c1 down a twelfth but that although the bass figure is tonally related to m1c1 and m1c2, it diverges rhythmically. This is because it must in its context be considered part of the longer museme which, despite intervallic resemblance to m1c1 and m1c2, nevertheless has, as we shall see, a different function. We shall call this syncopated museme 2a1. The octave leap m1a1 comes in three melodic forms, referred to as m1a1a, m1a1b, and m1a1c.

It would also be possible to consider the 5®1 and $7®1 shuttle motifs in the bass part (b. 5-6, 8-9, 14-16, 17-19) as variations of museme 1a1. However, the accompanying function of these figures leads us to refer to them as m2e5 (see fig. 8, p.148).

Variations also occur in the presentation of the triplet figure 1c. The Moog sequencer motif (2b) and the woodwind stab (2c) are less varied.

Underlying harmonies (see fig. 8, section 2g: ‘general sonorities’) are not referred to by museme number in this text: standard lead sheet chord shorthand will be used instead (C7sus4, Cm11, E$7sus4, Fmaj7, A$/3, C11, Cadd9, etc.).

By ‘contrasting’ musemes (see section 3 in figure 8, p.148) we mean the musical material of bars 14-17 and its additive m + m + i + i = 10/8 (5/4) metre. Admittedly, the bass motifs m3c and m3d may be thought of as variations of m1b4 and m2e5 but their inclusion in the additive rhythm of bars 14-17 renders then more suitable to be classified as contrasting motifs.

Fig. 8 Table of musemes in the Kojak theme

Table of musemes, p.2

As will be apparent to the reader after perusal of the Table of Musemes (fig. 8, above), almost all musical material in the Kojak theme is derivable from a limited number of basic ideas, the only exceptions being the first note of the piece in the bass part (the a$ of m4a and the only minor sixth) and the crescendo plus finality marking of the last chord (m4b, m4c). Each of these musemes occurs only once.

Having defined the musemes of our analysis object, we will now proceed to discuss their meaning one by one, concentrating on the aurally distinguishable ideas and using the techniques of interobjective comparison and hypothetical substitution presented earlier. However, before we do this we should state that the piece has a general ABA construction in which bars 1-4 (A11) is an introduction, bars 5-13 (A21, A22, A31) an exposition, bars 15-17 (B) a contrasting middle section, and bars 18-22 (A23, A32) an abbreviated recapitulation, including a coda (A12) at bars 22-28. We should also mention that the piece exhibits a basic technique of construction that can be found in most European music since the baroque era and which is typical for the majority of Western popular music: the Kojak theme is constructed on the basis of clear difference in character and function between melodic line and accompaniment. We shall be discussing such aspects of compositional construction and form at a later stage (§6.2, 9.2).

6.1 Accompanying Musemes

6.1.1 Bass motifs

It seems natural to start our affect analysis of individual musemes with an account of motifs found in the accompaniment. This is because an accompaniment may to a certain extent be regarded as the musical ‘backcloth’ or ‘environment’ against which the melodic line can stand out as a sort of ‘foreground figure’. Moreover, no full statement of melodic phrase occurs until bars 5 - 8, the first readily discernible musical ideas being presented in the accompaniment, more specifically in the bass line. As we intend to show, the bass part is also of special interest in its relation to the melodic line.

As previously stated, we were unable to determine exactly which bass instruments play the bass line of the Kojak theme. Most likely we considered an electric bass supporting a number of double basses because of the distinctly audible 16-foot effect. We also thought it possible that a bass trombone might be doubling the bass line. According to the full orchestral score of the original arrangement, the bass line is being played by electric bass (marked ‘Fender’) and double basses, but is also played by tuba, piano (octaves in the left hand) and (at 8 foot level) by electric guitars (first 5 bars only). The line is also strengthened by timpani marking the last quaver and first crotchets across certain important bar lines.

Whatever the instrumentation of the bass part, we may safely state that it is one of the most noticeable features in the recording, not least because: (1) the bass part is the most ‘melodic’ of all accompanying parts; (2) bass instruments are instructed to play ff whereas other parts are marked ƒ (apart from horns and harp), (3) the bass channels have had their volume increased in proportion to other accompanying parts at the final mixing session. Whatever the reasons may be, the effect is nevertheless that we can compare the forte, staccato non troppo e pesante nature of this bass part with bass lines in popular music, especially of the soul, big band and funk type. This is because the bass parts in such music tend to be rhythmically active and include syncopations, especially over periodic joins in the music. This will be clearer if we cite a number of heavy (pesante) bass riffs to be found in the type of repertoire just mentioned. The backbeat figure m2a1 may be compared, for example, to these riffs introducing new periods in soul numbers.

Ex. 20. Aretha Franklin (1968): Since You've Been Gone (bass riff).

Ex. 21. Wilson Pickett (1967): Stagger Lee (bass riff).

Ex. 22. Carole King (1971): I Feel The Earth Move (bass motif before piano solo).

In funk music, syncopated staccato ma pesante offbeats in the bass line are the rule rather than the exception and need not necessarily occur as anacruses in conjunction with periodic joins (ex. 23). Backbeat effect of the type found in our Kojak museme 2a can also be created by playing the octaves of funk boogie figures ‘in the wrong order’, thus making for the type of agogic bass offbeat figure shown as example 24.

Ex. 23. Herbie Hancock (1974): bass riff from ‘Chameleon’ on Head Hunters.

Ex. 24. Graham Central Station (1974): bass riff from ‘Rap On Mr Writer‘, on Release Yourself.

It should be clear from these examples that heavy, syncopated bass riffs are a characteristic of funk and soul music. However, we may be more precise than this. The sort of minor pentatonic tonal vocabulary found in the bass line of the Kojak theme (c-e$-f-g-b$) is also the tonal vocabulary of bass riffs often found in modern big band arrangements of the soul type (examples).

Ex. 26. Stan Kenton & His Orchestra (1971): Hank’s Opener.

However, heavy minor pentatonic syncopated bass figures are even more usual in ordinary soul music:

Ex. 27. King Curtis (1967): Memphis Soul Stew (bass riff)

Ex. 28. The Soul Clan (1968): Soul Meeting (bass riff)

They can also occur in disco music, as, for example here, together with the hook line of the title theme from Saturday Night Fever.

Ex. 29. The Bee-Gees (1977): Staying Alive

Minor pentatonic backbeat syncopations played by the by electric bass doubled with piano, brass, double bass, etc. may also be found in soul-influenced numbers whose lyrics express ecstatic desperation at the thought of losing a lover.

Ex. 30. Ike & Tina Turner (1966): River Deep, Mountain High.

Ex. 31. The Righteous Brothers (1964): You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling.

In fact, intensity of emotion is one common denominator of the paramusical concomitants found in connection with all the pieces of comparative material cited above. Aretha Franklin’s Since You've Been Gone, Carole King’s I Feel The Earth Move, Ike and Tina Turner’s River Deep, Mountain High and The Righteous Brothers’ You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' all have lyrics which deal with strong personal emotions experienced when in love and caused either by the fear of losing this love (ex. 20, 30, 31) or by the staggering effects of being near the loved one (ex. 22). The lyrics of Wilson Pickett’s Stagger Lee and The Bee-Gees’ Staying Alive are concerned with the ecstatic expression of matters concerning life and death (ex. 21, 29) while examples 24 (Rap On Mr. Writer), 25 (Higher), 27 (Memphis Soul Stew) and 28 (Soul Meeting) all contain lyrics which express intensive action and energy. The remaining two examples, Herbie Hancock’s Chameleon (ex. 23) and Stan Kenton’s version of Hank’s Opener (ex. 26), are both instrumental.

Thus, we may suppose from the examples above that the minor pentatonic, heavy syncopated bass figure m2a in the Kojak theme expresses a certain energy and intensity. However, this is only part of the picture. The Kojak theme is not, like all of the examples quoted above, written primarily any funk, soul or pop genre. This means that the use of motifs from these styles can be regarded as loans which, like loans from classical music into basically rock styles or from folk music into a basically classical piece, are made for specific expressive purposes. Let us discuss this stylistic aspect of the bass line in the Kojak theme.

Heavy bass lines of the type found in the Kojak theme have only been possible since the advent of the electric bass in the late nineteen fifties. However, the ‘liberation’ of the bass line in popular music is a much later phenomenon since in the early sixties, electric bass parts still tended to copy the typical V-I oom-pah figures or walking bass lines used by players of the double bass in Afro-American music. It was first with the advent of soul music as a widespread commercial phenomenon that the electric bass acquired an idiom of its own which was further developed at the end of the decade with the introduction of improved sound equipment in studios and on stage. It seems possible therefore that the loan of this type of bass line may be regarded as enhancing the Kojak theme with a character of modernity (none of our examples are from before late 1964, most of them from 1966 and after) and possibly, even more particularly, with an atmosphere of a large North American city simply because funk and soul music are by definition intrinsically modern, North American and urban phenomena (see Haralambos, 1974). It will therefore be of little surprise to find similar bass lines used elsewhere in connection with media situations where modernity, action and urban life are important ingredients. We may firstly cite the title melody to the film Shaft (black super-detective) which, amongst other interesting rhythmic bass motifs, contains the following heavy, syncopated, jerky, restless major pentatonic bass riff:

Ex. 32. Isaac Hayes (1971): The Theme From Shaft (bass riff).

It is interesting to note that not only Shaft but also Baretta makes use of this sort of funk/soul music with its prominent electric bass idiom, and that the action in both these productions takes place in New York. We should also mention that the title themes for both Shaft and Baretta are given theme tunes conceived entirely in the soul-funk style and that both these heroes, at least ten years younger than Kojak or Cannon, are portrayed as streetwise but honest sons of the ghetto. Such observations on connections between the paramusical concomitants of these two items of interobjective comparison material (the themes from Shaft and Baretta) would seem to support our theory that the use of the soul/funk idiom can convey an intrinsic character of North American urban (perhaps even ghetto) modernity. Moreover, we should point out that an extract from the Shaft theme is also used as by Swedish Television for one of its sports programmes (Sportspegeln) and that the BBC-TV programme Sportsnight (Hatch, 1974) is also endowed with an active, syncopated, heavy, quasi-soul bass line.

Such non legato, marcato e pesante bass lines as those cited in examples 20 - 33, consisting of notes with short time values and containing clear syncopated elements, can rarely be found in title themes for productions treating traditional matters of romance. Nor would we expect to find Maigret, Lord Peter Whimsey, Arsène Lupin, Sherlock Holmes or any other TV detective of yesteryear accompanied by minor pentatonic staccato ma pesante syncopated bass riffs played ƒ on electric bass. It would also be unlikely to find TV or film productions dealing with country matters, for example Emmerdale Farm (Hatch, 1974), or family-orientated soap operas (e.g. Crossroads, Coronation Street, The Brothers), or Westerns (e.g. Bonanza, Gunsmoke, The Little House on the Prairie, The Virginian), not to mention comedy series (e.g. All in the Family, The Over Forties, Monty Python’s Flying Circus), connected with funky bass figures.

We will therefore assume that the bass line of the Kojak theme, especially its syncopated and non legato ma pesante character, will tend to elicit connotations of modernity, intensive action and energy. It may also convey a certain amount of affective unrest, due to the jerky, syncopated figures and large numbers of crotchet, dotted crotchet and quaver rests. The bass line of the Kojak theme is in other words not still or calm and cannot therefore be considered as expressing peacefulness like the motives in Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll (ex. 34).Our museme 2a is also quite different from the atmosphere of large, quiet open spaces portrayed in Borodin’s On the Steppes of Central Asia (ex. 35) or at the start of Copland’s ballet suite Billy the Kid (ex. 36)

Ex. 34. Wagner (1871): Siegfried ldyll, b. 29, ff.

Ex. 35. Borodin (1880): On the Steppes of Central Asia (start).

Ex. 36. Copland (1941): ‘On The Open Prairie’, b. 7-8, from Billy The Kid.

Examples 34-36 share a number of musical and paramusical traits: peace, stillness and lack of motion are portrayed in music by a lack of motion in the bass part. We could have referred to a number of other works in this context (e.g. the unpopulated open spaces of Vaughan Williams’ fifth symphony or On Bredon Hill) to demonstrate the contrast between music played ƒ with an active bass line and music played p with a static bass line. As can be seen from examples 34 and 35, where the inner voices are far from static, it is not lack of harmonic movement which evokes peace and quiet, nor is there any lack of melodic movement, but rather the static bass line, the soft dynamics and slow pulse rate. All these points will be clearer if we carry out hypothetical substitution on the bass line of the Kojak theme, replacing musemes 2a and 2e with a tonic pedal (ex. 37)

We could also carry out hypothetical substitutions to show the effect of other changes in the bass part of the Kojak theme. We could, for example, replace musemes 2a and 2e (and variants) with a jaunty V-I oom-pah bass instead, giving the Kojak theme the character of a hasty march (ex. 38).

Ex. 37. (HS) Kojak theme: tonic pedal in bass.

Ex. 38. (HS) Kojak theme: oom-pah bass line.

We could also have used the quasi-tango bass figure actually found in the published piano arrangement of the Kojak theme:

Ex. 39. Goldenberg: Kojak theme – published piano arrangement (© 1974, 1975 by Duchess Music Corporation) showing use of pseudo-habanera ostinato in left hand.

These substitutions should clarify some of the affective properties of the Kojak theme. We are, in other words, not dealing with the ‘calm’ tonic pedal of ex. 37, the jovial oom-pah of ex. 38, nor with the pop-tango character of ex. 39, but with a bass line corresponding to notions of modernity, intensive action (probably in a large North American city), energy and unrest. However, the degree of unrest in this bass line has yet to be specified. We might imagine a bass part which was ‘too’ syncopated or which found itself in a dissonant relationship to the rest of the music:

Ex. 40. (HS) Kojak theme: bass line too syncopated.

Ex. 41. (HS) Kojak theme: bass line too dissonant.

Ex. 42. (HS) Kojak theme: bass line legato e piano.

The hypothetical substitutions in ex. 40 and 41 might have been appropriate in a very ‘funky’ film (ex. 40) or horror movie (ex.41). They might even be possible in conjunction with secret spy action. However, the degree of tension (rhythmic and/or tonal) which these hypothetical versions create in relation to the rest of the music, specifically the melodic line, is much large than is generally found in signature themes from TV productions in which a police hero, week after week, overcomes the forces of evil according to the standard plot we have mentioned earlier. In ex. 42, on the other hand, the legato, piano, cantabile rendering of the bass line would have destroyed the contrasting relationship of bass to melody and the perpetuum mobile figure 2b, the jerkiness (staccato = detached, separate, staccare stand out, be prominent) and heavy power (pesante = heavy, powerful, oppressive, etc.) of m2a and m2e giving way to smoothness (legato) and softness (piano).

We may therefore conclude from the comparisons, substitutions and discussions above that the bass part (m2a, m2e) of the Kojak theme has a general affect of intense action, energy and desultory unrest. We may also establish some degree of correspondence to male spheres of activity such as performing soul and funk music or watching sport on TV. We may also draw a parallel between, on the one hand, Italian adjectives describing the Kojak theme’s tempo and mode of interpretation — allegro, staccato, pesante, forte — and, on the other, actions or moods also answering to such description; indeed, allegro means lively and covers the Kojak tempo of q = 134 while the other adjectives describe actions such as blow, jerk, jolt, heave, kick (note the short, sharp nature of these words and the short note values heard on the recording). This parallel supports our notion that aspects of disquiet and even aggressiveness are linked to the theme. Finally, we should repeat that the loan from modern popular music styles, in particular soul and funk, can be considered as a way of establishing the atmosphere of a large North American city, in particular the energetic, rather threatening excitement experienced by someone viewing that urban subculture from the outside.

6.1.2 The Moog's ‘violin’ ostinato

The accompanying figure played by the Moog sequencer (museme 2b) is in direct contrast to that played by the bass instruments. Although we were unable to transcribe the precise pitch of the ostinato and despite the fact that we presumed the figure to be played by violins, it was nevertheless distinguishable as a short (lasting at the most one crotchet), constantly repeated perpetuum mobile semiquaver motif which, apart from being inaudible in bars 15-17, is merely subject to transposition up a minor third (b. 12-14, 20-21) and to no other alterations. Museme 2a is played ƒ and would seem to have been given a considerable degree of dynamic prominence at the final mix (except b. 15-17). We are dealing here with an extremely short ostinato figure with a certain tremolo character played at a pitch (octaves 4 and 5) above the melodic line (octaves 3-4). This figure should, however, not be regarded as a tremolo a piacere or as a tremolando but rather as consisting of precisely performed semiquavers. The tremolo character of museme 2a is nevertheless obvious and may be compared to the precise reiterations of single notes found in early European art music and generally referred to as tremolo.

According to Bengtsson (1952), the first occurrence of tremolo in European art music is in Monteverdi’s Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda. As shown below (ex. 43), this tremolo should not be played in an unmeasured, a piacere fashion.

Ex. 43. Monteverdi (1624): Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda (p. 22, b.306, ff).

In the instance above, the physical expression of affect has been aroused by rage (‘il furor pugna’). However, musical imitations of trembling are not confined to the expression of rage but are applicable to any emotional state reflecting the experience of strong affective influence. Trembling (tremolare) is not, as Meyer (1956:13-22) has observed (see also §2.2.3, p.48), a physical signal encoding the reasons or nature of a particular emotional experience but an undifferentiated physical expression to violent emotional stimuli of undefined character. Thus one may tremble in anger (as in ex. 43), fear (ex. 45), despair (ex. 46), expectation (ex. 47), love (ex. 48), frustration and doubt (ex. 44). It is also possible to quiver with delight, quake like thunder or like an earthquake, and you can even shiver from cold (ex. 49).

Ex. 44. Debussy (1902): Mélisande’s doubt from Pelléas et Mélisande.

Ex. 45. Stravinsky (1927): Opening chorus from Oedipus Rex.

Ex. 46. Stravinsky (1911): Pétrouchka’s Despair (cited in L. Bernstein, 1976: 336)

Ex. 47. Berlioz (1839): Romeo anticipating the ball at the Capulet’s in Roméo et Juliette.

Ex. 48. Berlioz (1839): Balcony scene from Roméo et Juliette.

Ex. 49. Purcell (1691): Frost scene from King Arthur.

Trembling, quivering, quaking and shivering are all translations tremolare. They are also spontaneous physical expressions of states of body and emotion. Most of the motions just enumerated are also connected with increase in heart pulse and breathing rate. Although such increase can be caused by running, galloping, jumping and by other energetic action, it also symptomises stress and worry. Now, it is possible that quick, regular movement in fast pulse may be regarded as a musical expression for these emotionally experienced physical phenomena and even for material phenomena which themselves move at a fast but constant and regular rate (e.g. machinery, travel by car or train, a constant stream of traffic, throngs of people moving around). It is therefore interesting to note how fast, short, repetitive motifs have often been used in music to express an affective experience of stress and speed. Fire seems often to be expressed in such musical terms: (ex. 50-53).

Ex. 50. Wilbye (1609): Sweet Honey Sucking Bees.

Ex. 51. Händel (1716): Aria from The Passion (cited in Young, 1947: 154).

Ex. 52. Händel (1741): Aria ‘But who may abide’ from The Messiah (1902 edition: 21-22).

Examples 50-52 may not express much stress or anxiety to modern listeners, as the music was conceived in a tonal idiom latterly deprived of its capacity to create harmonic tension. Example 53 is a different matter with its sforzandi, tritones, augmented triads and discords.

Ex. 53. Stravinsky (1915): Firebird Suite (start, p. 7).

Nineteenth-century tremolandi seem in any case more distinguishable than those of the baroque era as regards relative degree of pleasantness or unpleasantness. This will be clearer if we compare the perpetuum mobile of a clear, babbling country brook, of the phrenetic gallop away from the nasty Erlkönig and the implacable motion of Gretschen’s spinning wheel in three Schubert songs (examples 54-56).

Ex. 54. Schubert (1823): ‘Wohin?’ (Die schöne Müllerin, no. 2)

The pleasant country scene of example 54 is quite different from the anxiety of example 55 in which an insistent triplet g, combined with short, sharp minor third and minor sixth punctuations in the bass part, accompany the terrifying flight of father and son on horseback away from the forces of death and evil.

Ex. 55. Schubert (1828): ‘Erlkönig’ (Ausgewählte Lieder, no.1).

The relationship between the pianist’s left and right hand in example 55 is quite similar to that between the bass line and the Moog ostinato in the Kojak theme: a short, threatening, jerky bass motif, full of rests, cuts through a constantly reiterated, measured tremolo figure at a higher pitch. Fast perpetuum mobile figures are given yet another affective nuance by Schubert in Gretschen am Spinnrade (ex. 56). Instead of threatening and aggressive notions of being chased by the forces of death and evil (Erlkönig), Schubert creates a softer atmosphere of bitter anxiety when Gretschen, accompanied by the quick, quiet and delicate movements of the needle on her spinning wheel, breaks out into the lamentation: ‘Wo ich ihn nicht hab, ist mir das Grab’, while the piano rolls implacably onwards with bitter-sweet Dmadd9 chords, not to mention diminished sevenths and other harmonies, later in the song, which, in the tonal language of the early nineteenth century, must be considered to be full of tension.

Ex. 56. Schubert (1828): ‘Gretschen am Spinnrade’ (Ausgewählte Lieder, no.2).

Ex. 57. Sibelius (1905):Spinning wheel scene from Pelleas and Melisande (Op. 46: 20-25).

Another tragic heroine of romantic literature who sits by a spinning wheel is Mélisande who, in Sibelius’ ballet Pelleas and Melisande (ex. 57), has her unhappy situation bewailed for her by a melancholic fixation on the minor third and minor sixth in the clarinet part, by sighing melodic sequences, such as falling fifths in the woodwind parts, the oboe’s a$-g-f# motif, etc., and by dark, chromatic sonorities in the strings and woodwind parts. The violas play a sempre ƒ mechanical quaver shuttle uninterrupted throughout the whole movement, between f#2 and g2; we may presume this figure to be both a programmatic imitation of the.incessant motions of the spinning wheel and, at the same time, an affective interpretation of the bored, joyless and depressed state of mind in which Melisande finds herself while sitting at this machine.

So far all of our examples of quickly moving, short but constantly repeated motifs in accompaniment have been played as precisely measured quavers or semiquavers. However, the usual tremolo figure, well known from dramatic works of the nineteenth century and from film music, is not performed in this way. We are talking here about a tremolando which Stevens, in his introduction to Monteverdi (1624), describes as ‘an unmeasured reiteration of a note caused by a deliberately nervous vibration of the hand holding the bow’ (strings). Let us compare the contexts in which use of measured and unmeasured fast reiteration of single notes (or groups of up to five or six quick notes) occur in Berlioz’ Trojans.

At the opening of La prise de Troie, the stage setting is described as follows:

Acte 1er. Scène 1ère. Le peuple Troyen se répand joyeusement dans la plaine. Soldats, citoyens, femmes et enfants. Danses, jeux divers.’

The music opens with measured reiteration (woodwind, c. 414 per minute, ex. 58):

Ex. 58. Berlioz (1862): La prise de Troie (opening).

Later on in the opera, the Trojan king, Chorebus, in a happy, mésuré B major arioso, sings the joys of his palace and home, not understanding why his queen, Cassandra, wishes to flee. She replies, in unmeasured recitative accompanied by string tremolandi playing flat submediant harmonies followed by chords of the minor ninth and diminished seventh, ‘Ah! Je cache à vos yeux le trouble affreux dont mon âme est remplie’, expressing premonitions about the sack of Troy.

Ex. 59. Berlioz (1862): Cassandra's premonitions from La prise de Troie (p. 41, b. 8-11).

In taking of leave of Dido in the same composer’s Les troyens à Carthage, Aeneas blames ‘impatient destiny’ for making him unfaithful, calling him to the ‘death of a hero’. In this example (ex. 60) we can see how the measured reiterations of single notes accompany notions of impatience, calling and destiny — the sum of which implies quick, definite, implacable movement — whereas the idea of his death and infidelity are accompanied by ‘unmeasured reiterations of the same note caused by deliberately nervous vibrations of the hand holding the bow’.

It would seem from the examples cited thus far, as well from example 60 (Aeneas’ farewell, p.164), that measured reiteration of fast notes (or short groups thereof) tend to occur in connection with personal affective interpretation of non-individual phenomena, such as machines, fire, crowds, brooks, horses galloping, etc., whereas individually experienced violent emotions, such as intense worry, despair, terror, fright, etc. seem to warrant the unmeasured reiterations of the Berliozian tremolo strettissimo (tremolando) quoted above. This idea also seems to be substantiated, only a few bars after Aeneas’ farewell, by the use of measured reiteration of quick notes again, this time in connection with a crowd scene full of movement (ex. 61). The stage directions in the score state at that point:

‘Des groupes de soldats Troyens, occupés des préparatifs du départ, passent et se dirigent vers les vaisseaux. Les matelots crient de nouveau: “Italie!”’

Ex. 60. Berlioz (1863): Aeneas' farewell to Dido, Les troyens à Carthage (pp. 260- 261).

Ex. 61. Berlioz (1863): Departure for Italy. Les troyens à Carthage (pp. 262-263).

After the music of example 61, Aeneas gets on board and, after a few chromatic changes in the wind parts, a cadence is reached at the end of act three. At this point, the stage directions state: ‘Roulement de tonnerre au théâtre’ (ex. 62). However regularly percussionists may perform these cymbal and kettle drum rolls, it is unlikely that their measured semiquaver reiterations will be audible as such, not only because Berlioz at this point stipulates use of baguettes d’éponge but also because the sounds of any regularly and quickly repeated notes will, on these undamped instruments, result in all individual attacks mingling into each other and a general effect of shuddering. Moreover, if a ‘regular tremolo’ figure is played on a bass instrument at a low pitch (e.g. timpani, double bass, cello, piano in octave 1 or 2) the chances of individual notes mingling with each other, creating a general effect of rumbling, are also greater than when the same measured fast reiterations are played at a higher pitch. Shuddering, rumbling, thunder and earthquake seem often to be put into music in this way (ex. 63).

Ex. 63. J.S. Bach (1729): Der Vorhang im Tempel. Matthäuspassion (p. 365).

It is not our contention that measured fast reiteration of single notes (or short groups thereof) can only have an indistinct effect when played at a low pitch, because ‘blurring’ can also be caused by other factors. We have already mentioned instruments, the duration of whose continued resonance is not checked by the immediate repetition of the same note (e.g. cymbal, timpani). We should also remember the reverberation of the acoustic space in which the reiterated notes are performed. This means that if tremoli are played in such spaces as a church, a concert hall, or if reverberation is added to a studio recording, they will be less and less distinct and perceptible as individually measured and reiterated notes in proportion to the amount of reverberation in the acoustic space. Moreover, the perceptibility of a given fast, measured reiteration pattern will tend to decrease in proportion to the number of performers playing the same tremolo figure and in proportion to the number of other parts simultaneously playing motifs in note values close but not identical to this pattern. Thus we should distinguish between ‘uncontested’ fast measured reiteration (such as that found in ex. 58) and the ‘contested’ complementary and contradictory ostinati to be found, for example, at the opening of Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloë (‘Lever du Jour’, ex. 64). In this example the divided flute and clarinet parts play rippling whole-tone arpeggios over D9 and C7$5. In the score, these arpeggios are written as precise demisemiquavers in groups of twelve to the crotchet. However, the two harps are simultaneously playing glissandi in precise groups of eighteen notes to the crotchet. At the same time the lento (q =50) pulse is not marked by any instrument, the only reference point outside the rippling ostinati being the slow changes in harmony (less than five a minute). These factors, together with standard concert hall acoustics, will blur the written precision of these figures and create such impressions as ‘matin ou printemps’, ‘ruisseau, rivage’ (Francès, 1958: 294) rather than notions implying more regular, measurable types of paramusical motion which tend to arise in conjunction with the musical portrayal of machines, crowds, collective activity, work and travel. Thus, it is possible that the composer’s introductory comments ‘aucun bruit que le murmure des ruisselets amassés par la rosée qui coule des roches’ (Ravel, 1913: 1), together with the connotative responses collected by Francès (1958: 294, 281, 312-314) from listeners to this particular extract from Daphnis et Chloë, not only show an efficient musical communication process between the transmitters (Ravel, the orchestra and its conductor, the recording engineers) and receivers (French listeners of varying age and social background), but also establish a degree of correspondence between a particular type of musical material and its paramusical concomitants.

Ex. 64. Ravel (1913): Daphnis et Chloë – ‘Lever du jour’ (p.1).

Let us now return to our quasi-tremolo motif in the Kojak theme (m2b). All notes in this motif are common to the underlying harmonies (C7sus4, Cm11, C11, E$m11, E$m7sus4) and may thereby be regarded to be in consonance with the other parts. Now this is not true of several mysterious sonorities to be found in the opening minute of ‘Lever du jour’ (ex. 64), nor does it really apply to the relationship between the sehr lebhaft woodwind reiterations and the legato string melody in ‘The Temptation of St.Anthony’ from Hindemith’s Mathis der Mahler (ex. 65).

Ex. 65. Hindemith (1933): Versuchung des heiligen Antonius. Mathis der Mahler

(p. 42, b. 1-8).

The insistent threat of the devil and his minions seems to be expressed here by a forte e legato chromatic tune, consisting of reasonably bold intervallic steps, in bass instruments and accompanied by the driving 9/8 rhythm of quartal harmonies (apart from b. 3), sometimes dissonant in themselves (b. 6,7), sometimes dissonant vis-à-vis the melody (b. 2-4, 6-8).

Similar examples of threatening, negative trills, tremoli and quickly repeated short, fast ostinati at a high pitch can be found not only in art music, for example in ‘Songe d’une Nuit du Sabbat’ from Berlioz’ Symphonie fantastique (1830: 160, ff.) or in Wagner’s Walkürenritt (1856a: 1-20), but also in title themes and film music. In this context we could mention Rimsky Korsakov’s chromatically buzzing Flight of the Bumble Bee, used as a signature for an early detective series on US radio entitled The Green Hornet, some spine-chilling music by Max Steiner in the score for The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, and Rózsa’s music accompanying Calpurnia’s filmed nightmare about her husband’s immanent murder in Julius Caesar (ex. 66).

It seems safe at this point to state that the Kojak museme 2b is unlikely to bear connotations of threat, since it is not only in harmony with other parts but also consonant in itself, at least within the norms of the tonal language in which it has been conceived. Although the average TV viewer may possibly find a greater degree of consonance in the tonal language of Wilbye’s Sweet Honey Sucking Bees, Schubert’s Wohin? or Händel’s ‘Refiner’s Fire’ (ex. 50, 54, 52) — a consideration which should not automatically lead us to conclusions about an unreservedly ‘pleasant’ affect — the major second, octave, fourth and fifth of museme 2b could not be substituted by minor seconds, ninths, diminished fifths, etc., since such a change would probably result an expression of unreservedly ‘unpleasant’ affect. This can be seen by comparing our hypothetical substitution (ex. 67) with the minor second clashes between the (minor second) woodwind and string trills in Rózsa’s music for Julius Caesar (ex. 66) or with the semitone intervals found in the rough and tumble prologue to Leonard Bernstein’s West Side Story at the point where Bernardo pierces Arab’s ear (ex. 68).

Ex. 66. Rózsa (1968): Nightmare music from Julius Caesar (cited in Manvell et al., 1975: 133).

Ex. 67. (HS) Kojak: museme 2b as ‘atonal’

Ex. 68. L. Bernstein (1957): West Side Story (p. 13, b. 13-16).

Although our museme 2b is preprogrammed to perform exact semiquavers at q =134 it is almost impossible to hear it as consisting of precisely iterated notes. Our hesitation as to the exact transcription of the figure in the original transcript may well be due to this state of affair, as well as to the considerable amount of reverb added to the recording. It may also be due to the imperceptible presence of the string trills (m2d1 and m2f2) which, played by twelve violins, eight violas and eight cellos, will almost certainly sound as heterophony and mingle with the ‘objectively’ precise semiquavers of m2b, causing them to be ‘subjectively’ perceived as individually less distinguishable than the reiterated notes in the Monteverdi, Berlioz or Hindemith examples (ex. 43, p.158; ex. 58, p.163; ex. 65, p.166).

It appears that m2b has more in common with the rhythms associated with Gretschen or Melisande at their spinning wheels (examples 56, 57, p.162), or with the departure of Aeneas’s soldiers for Italy (ex. 61). On the other hand m2b is not as indistinct as the tremoli, trills and rolls found in connection with thunder and earthquake (ex. 62, 63) or with powerful internalised emotions, such as those inherent in Cassandra’s worried premonitions about the sack of Troy (ex. 59), Aeneas’ ruminations on dying a hero’s death and being unfaithful (ex. 60), Romeo and Juliet’s vibrant new-found love (ex. 48, p.159), etc. So, if museme 2b does not express such atmospheres or feelings as those cited above, nor notions of terror (ex. 45, p.159), despair (ex. 46), doubt (ex. 44), cold (ex. 49), impatient destiny (ex. 60), the rippling and rustling of nature (ex. 64), trials by the devil (ex. 65), nightmares (ex. 66) or the violent outbursts of city gangs (ex. 68), what does museme 2b ‘mean’?

To answer this question we shall take the liberty of introducing yet another example of baroque affect. In example 69, taken from Händel’s oratorio, Solomon, a choir (‘the nation’) has just sung the praises of their king. A sinfonia follows (cited here), announcing the arrival of the Queen of Sheba together with her high priest, her attendants and her train. The scene is full of people, action, wealth and light.

Ex. 69. Händel (1749): Arrival of the Queen of Sheba. Solomon (no. 42, p. 142, b. 1-4).

The fast notes (c. 500 per min.), played here by violins in octaves four and five in B$ major, may be compared to those played at a similar rate in the same key, at a similar tempo and with a similar rate of harmonic change in example 58 (opening of Berlioz’s La prise de Troie). We may also compare these motifs and their paramusical concomitants (lots of people, positive, bustling activity) with those found in such pieces as Leroy Anderson’s A Typist’s Holiday (1954), or in the apposite mood section of collections like Background Music for Home Movies (vol. 6) which includes Alexander Semmler’s Step On It (‘a lively piece in the spirit of bright metropolitan or industrial activity’) and John Rhodes’ Shopping Spree (‘bright movement, a gay hurry depicting light activity in streets, happy crowds and spirited travel’). Not only do all these pieces exhibit mutual similarities concerning type, speed, pitch, pulse, dynamics, instrumentation, internal and external consonance of their perpetuum mobile figures, they also exhibit mutual similarities concerning paramusical concomitants, such as bustling activity, light, speed and lots of people. Now, the quartal 1-4-5-1 sonority of the Kojak ostinato m2b is a far cry from the tertial type of ‘happiness’ found in examples of positive, bustling activity in music mentioned so far. However, we should also place this 1-(2)-4-5-1 type of sonority in its context of tonal language and try to ascertain to what extent it is charged with the sort of ‘positive’ associations that seem to have been connected with traditional diatonic consonance in conjunction with fast, short string ostinati played at a high pitch.

Part of this problem may possibly be solved by comparing the Moog’s violin-like ostinato in the Kojak theme with similar passages orchestrated similarly in works in a similar tonal language, for example Debussy’s ‘Fêtes’:

Ex. 70. Debussy (1899): Trois nocturnes – ‘Fêtes’ (opening).

This bright, quick (c. 500 notes per min.) quartal string ostinato (F as tonic) is obviously also connected with positive, bustling, bright activity (fête = feast, festival, holiday, birthday, festivity). An even more apt comparison than this Debussy extract may be found in the opening market scene from Stravinsky’s Pétrouchka (1911). The stage directions stipulated in the introduction to the score are:

Shrovetide rejoicings in St. Petersburg. A sunny winter's day in Admiralty Square... In the middle of the scene is a little theatre... At the back one sees a roundabout with wooden horses, big swings and slides. There is a crowd of people moving about on the scene, common people, gentlefolk, troupes of drunkards with their arms around one another: the stall of the optical illusionist is surrounded by children. Women are clustered around the other booths.

The gaiety of this winter’s day fair and its bustling activity receive the following musical treatment (ex. 66).

Ex. 71. Stravinsky (1911): Pétrouchka – opening bars.

The music from this opening scene to Pétrouchka bears a striking resemblance to the sixty years younger Universal City arrangement of the Kojak theme in terms of pulse, pitch and harmonic language. Of course, we cannot be certain that the niceties of musical meaning in Stravinsky’s tonal language have actually been ‘learnt’ by all those who have heard the Kojak theme and cannot therefore state whether the quartal 1-(2)-4-5-1 sonorities of museme 2b (and of the underlying harmonies in general) carry a ‘positive’ or ‘pleasant’ affective meaning in the performance situation we are discussing. However, in the sixty years which elapsed between the first performance of Pétrouchka and the Kojak theme, it may be considered likely that these sounds (major seconds, perfect fourths and fifths instead of thirds) have, through previous use in background music for films, in jazz and in avant-garde rock, actually become part of the contemporary popular music listener’s passive tonal vocabulary. In any case, quartal harmony may be considered as part of twentieth century tonal language, this furnishing the Kojak theme with yet another aspect of modernity in addition to the previously mentioned ‘up-to-dateness’ of its bass part.

So far our comparative material would seem to help us specify certain paramusical concomitants for the museme (2b) at present under analysis. Let us see whether we may be more precise about its affective meaning by using the technique of hypothetical substitution. Firstly, we may substitute various time factors: for example, we could halve the speed of the figure from semiquavers (536 per minute) to quavers (268 per min.), maintaining the original basic tempo of the piece. Such a substitution would bring the rate of reiteration more in line with the highly distinguishable measured semiquavers of examples 58 (the Berlioz crowd scene at 414 notes per min.) and 69 (the Arrival of the Queen of Sheba at 320 per min). In so doing we would change the nervous, flickering semiquavers of the original into a more easily perceptible and concrete form. Such an alteration of affect could also possibly be brought about by changing the sequential nature of the figure to precise reiteration, i.e. from to .

It is possible that this might give the museme a more insistent or mechanical affect. However, whereas the two substitutions suggested above are not of a specially radical nature, it should be clear that one cannot replace m2b with more divergent rhythmic patterns played at a similar rate and in a similar pulse to the original, without at the same time changing the meaning of the museme more definitely.

For example, a figure of the Erlkönig type, such as or might tend to suggest fast movement on horseback, but not as clearly as the following substitutions which seem to put Kojak straight into the saddle:

Ex. 72. (HS) Kojak theme: gallop ostinati

We could also clarify the ‘meaning’ of museme 2b by retaining its surface rate of 560 notes per minute but by slowing the pulse of the music to q =70 or lower. This change could result in difficulties of identification of movement, throw m2b and its originally relative imprecision into greater relief, painting a general, more impressionistic picture of the type commented upon in Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloë (ex. 59) in which figures played at 480 notes per minute dominated the rest of the orchestral score, moving at the contrasting rate of between 10 and 120 notes per minute.

Ex. 73. (HS) Kojak theme: Substitution of basic pulse but retention of tremolando surface rate

We therefore find it possible to state that our museme 2b is an ‘objectively’ precise but perceptively slightly indistinct figure suggesting fast, quivering movement of a very general nature. As such it cannot be considered as carrying direct connotations of moving machinery, as in Honegger’s Pacific 2-3-1, Britten’s ‘Royal Scot’ music for Night Mail (1936), or as in Schubert’s or Sibelius’ spinning wheel examples (56, 57). This is partly due to the exceptionally short duration of m2b (recurs every 0.4 seconds) making it difficult to perceive as a distinctly repeated arpeggio together other instruments and considerable amounts of reverberation added to the recording, partly because of the pitch at which it is played. The pitch of m2b also precludes it from carrying connotations of thunder, earthquakes or human emotions with physiological reactions of trembling generally located in the abdominal area (e.g. worry, fear). We may compare the following hypothetical substitution (ex. 74) with passages of music accompanying thunder (ex. 62, 63).

Ex. 74. (HS) Kojak: semiquaver ostinato played by bass instruments

This substitution example may also be compared with music for situations of fear and terror (especially if dissonant chords were to be supplied), such as William Alwyn’s music accompanying the final tragic murder in the film Odd Man Out, Rózsa’s tension-building music leading up to the dramatic murder scene in Julius Caesar (ex. 75) or the point in Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess just before a violent fight breaks out (ex. 76).

Ex. 75. Rózsa (1968): Impending murder. Julius Caesar (cited in Manvell et al., 1975: 133).

Ex. 76. Gershwin (1935): Impending fight. Porgy and Bess (p. 79, b. 5-8, at “126”).

But we do not need to go to extremes of tremolo or ostinato pitch in our comparative substitutions to stress the importance of this aspect of museme 2b. We could retain the original bass line and transpose the ostinato figure down two octaves (ex. 77).

Ex. 77. (HS) Kojak theme: museme 2b played two octaves lower.

We may compare this substitution with the sombre ‘crowd’ chorus at the start of Bach’s Passion according to Saint John.

Ex. 78. J.S. Bach (1724): St. John Passion – opening (1929 edition: p. 1, b. 1-4).

This is not the pitch at which we find fire and festivity, nor is it the pitch of thunder, earthquake and terror (ex. 45); it is the pitch of the tremolos or ostinati accompanying Cassandra’s worries (ex. 59), Dido’s worries about the arrival of her Trojan guests, Aeneas’ ruminations on death and infidelity (ex. 60), Romeo’s expectations (ex. 47), Romeo and Juliet’s love (ex. 48), Pelléas’ doubt and confusion (ex. 44) and other similar emotions which tend, in bodily terms, to be located in the breast, heart or stomach.

This ‘middle range’ pitch of tremolo or fast short ostinato figures may also be compared to the pitch at which Schubert’s brook babbles (ex. 54, p.161) and the pitch at which spinning wheels hum, murmur or whirl (ex. 56, 57). It can be compared neither with the pitch at which the earth or thunder rumbles (ex. 62, 63), or at which a lion might growl, nor with the frequency of pattering rain, rustling leaves (ex. 59), crackling fires (ex. 50-53), etc. Since it is a Western cultural convention to equate sharp (=not heavy, not dull), light (=not heavy, not dark) and shrill sounds with ‘high’ (in simple spatial terms) and, on the other hand, dark, heavy sounds with ‘low’ (Francès, 1958: 308-312), we may expect to find definite differences of affective meaning between quickly repeated successions of notes played at different musical pitches. What we call ‘high’ sounds in music generally tend to suggest to members of Western culture notions of sharpness and lightness (cf. what we regard as the high-frequency, voiceless consonants in the onomatopoeia patter, clatter, rustle, tap, tip-toe, whisper, crackle, spray, splash, etc.), whereas what we understand as low musical sounds generally tend to express notions of darkness, heaviness, obscurity and depth (cf. the preponderance of low-frequency, voiced consonants in the onomatopoeia rumble, roll, boom, roar, growl, mumble, etc.). We should therefore not find it surprising to discover thunder and earthquakes as ‘low’ sounds and raindrops and snowflakes as ‘high’ sounds, even though the latter are inaudible.

 

Similarly, we may expect quickly repeated notes or figures played over a larger pitch range in one or two instrumental parts to correspond to a larger range of paramusical space. If we were to exchange the limited high range in which museme 2b is situated for a wider pitch range (ex. 79) we would find this to have more in common with large (up, down and across) spaces full of vibrant but indistinguishable activity and motion, such as those depicted in Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloë, both at ‘Lever du Jour’ (ex. 64) and ‘Nocturne’ (ex. 80).

 

Ex. 79. (HS) Kojak: museme 2b over wide pitch range (1).

 

 

Ex. 80. Ravel (1913): Daphnis et Chloë – ‘Nocturne’ (p. 1, b. 1-5).

 

Ex. 81. Ravel (1913): Daphnis et Chloë (p. 8, b. 1): full sunrise.

If all instrumental parts were to carry out fast, short repeated figures over a large pitch range, an even larger and fuller spatial effect would be created. The effect might be comparable to the ‘smiling countryside’ in Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloë at the first climax (fully risen sun) or with the ‘grandiose apotheosis full of light’ described by Francès’ respondents in reference to Respighi’s La Fontana di Trevi al meriggio (ex. 82). Indeed, as the hypothetical substitution of example 83 shows, the Kojak theme’s museme 2b would be radically changed if it were spread over the full range of just the string parts in a manner resembling that of Respighi’s fountain.

The last two comparative examples (81, 82), share one common paramusical denominator: strong sunlight. Now, the question of light, which we shall call luminosity in order to distinguish between light (not dark) and light (not heavy), is of importance to our analysis. Dark environments generally seem to require low musical pitch (black clothes and funeral marches), an observation which can be supported by comparing the example 82 and its paramusical concomitants — a large, gushing fountain in the strong, noonday sun371 — with the same composer’s ‘Pini presso una catacomba’ (ex. 84).

Ex. 83. (HS) Kojak: museme 2b spread over wide pitch range (2) in all string parts.

Ex. 84. Respighi (1924): Pini di Roma (at figure 10) – ‘Pini presso una catacomba’.

Of course, other musical parameters, such as dynamics and tempo are important in the portrayal of dark, sombre environments as well as bright ones, but pitch, range and harmony are of equal importance. Our observations on the general correspondence of low pitch to darkness should require no further exemplification after these two well-known quotations (ex. 85).

Ex. 85. Funeral marches at low pitch.

Having stated the basic difference between musical brightness and darkness, we should try and determine what type of luminosity is being expressed in museme 2b. It should be clear, for example, that a constant, hot, intensive Mediterranean noonday sun, as experienced near a gushing fountain in the middle of an Italian metropolis, should require different musical treatment to the early morning sun in the delicate stillness of the French countryside (ex. 81, 82). Tremolo figures at different pitches and/or over varying ranges (see fig. 8, p.148), but still in consonant relation to each other and to the basic harmonies occur in both examples. The same is true of the cold, bright February sun in a St. Petersburg market place (ex. 71, p.170). However, the midday sun in Rome is played ƒƒƒ by all instruments (including a constant first inversion of a D major fistful on full organ and heroic brass fanfare motifs) over a range of five octaves and a minor third, covering all possible stations of the D major triad from f#2 (double bass and organ at 16 or 32 feet) to a held a6 in the piccolo part); even individual instruments cover several octaves with their gushing arpeggio figures. This is clearly not the type of luminosity we are dealing with in the Kojak theme, nor is it the type of light we find in the static, forte D major pentatonic sonorities of harp glissandi, piccolo and flute bird calls and the highly indistinct babbling of woodwind and violins at twelve demisemiquavers to the crotchet. The luminosity of the Kojak ostinato m2b has more in common with the cold February sun of the Stravinsky example (71, p.170), not only because of the similarities between the quartal harmonies of both pieces but also because of the pitch, range and relative dynamics in the Kojak theme and at the opening of Pétrouchka. Moreover if we refer to our trills, tremolos and ostinati of fire (ex. 50-53) we will also find these played at a similar rate, range, pitch and volume to the Moog’s violin-like ostinato m2b.

Figure 9 shows which of our IOCM is most similar to museme 2b under analysis. The basic argument is that the more structural traits the pieces of IOCM exhibit in common with museme 2b, the more likely m2b is to be associated with the paramusical concomitants of those pieces of IOCM. The encoding of structural information in the table’s eight right columns is explained below.

Explanation of figure 9

Structural trait Explanation

pitch range H = high, M = medium, L=low, full = full range

tremolo type A=arpeggio, O=ostinato, R=reiteration, S=sequence, T=tremolando

dynamic ff, f, mf, mp, p, pp as usual; <> = varied by cresc. and dim.

pulse metronome marking; ? = uncertain or approximate

notes per beat number of notes in figure within the duration of one pulse beat

surface rate number of notes in figure occurring within one minute

consonant/dissonant C = consonant, D = dissonant, acc. to the current tonal idiom

tonal

language PB = pre-baroque, B = baroque, ER = early romantic, R = romantic,

I = impressionist, MA = modern art music

 

Fig. 9. Musical/structural traits and connotations of tremol[and]o figures

ex. no. Composer Work Paramusical concomitants Pitch range Trem. type Dynamic Pulse Notes /beat Surface rate Con-/disson. Tonal lang.

43 Monteverdi Tancredi e Clo. fight, anger M R f 116 4 464 C B

45 Stravinsky Oedipus Rex fright, terror, threat L T f 50 7

16 350

800 D MA

46 Stravinsky Pétrouchka despair M T m 76 8 608 D MA

47 Berlioz Roméo & J. (1) expectation, nervousness ML T <> 88? 8? 704? D R

48 Berlioz Roméo & J. (2) love, passion ML T <> 88? 8? 704? C R

44 Debussy Pelléas et Mélis. doubt, confusion, insecurity M T pp<> 80? 8 640 D I

49 Purcell King Arthur cold HM S ? 100? 4 400 D B

50 Wilbye (madrigal) fire, love, dart, eye HM S ? 100? 4 400 C PB

51 Händel Passion (1716) fire (chastise) M S f? 100? 4 400 ? B

52 Händel Messiah fire (purge, refine) HM AS 138 4 552 C B

53 Stravinsky Firebird Suite fire H TS f 152 4 608 D MA

54 Schubert Wohin? babbling brook, wandering M A mf 100 ? 600 C ER

55 Schubert Erlkönig gallop, fear, terror, threat ML R f 152 3 456 D ER

56 Schubert Gretschen am ... spinning wheel, bitterness M A pp 72 6 432 D ER

57 Sibelius Pelleas & Melis. spinning wheel, bitterness M O mf 96 6 576 D R

58 Berlioz Prise de Troie (1) crowd, big space, activity H R f 138 3 414 C R

59 Berlioz Prise de Troie (2) worry, premonition, fear ML T <> 90? 8 720 D R

60 Berlioz Troyens à C. (1) impatient destiny H R f 140 4 560 D R

60 Berlioz Troyens à C. (2) worry, death, infidelity ML T f 140 4 560 ? R

61 Berlioz Troyens à C. (3) people, activity, hope H R f 140 4 560 C R

62 Berlioz Troyens à C. (4) approaching thunder L T ff> 140 ? 560? § R

63 J.S. Bach Matthew Passn. earthquake, threat L R f 80? 8 640? D B

64 Ravel Daphnis et

Chloë trickling water, dew, smiling countryside, early morning HM AS pp 50 12

18 600

900 CD

I

65 Hindemith Mathis der M. devils, hell fire, temptation H R f 176 3 528 D MA

66 Rózsa Julius Cæsar (1) nightmare, worry, threat full T p 140 4 560 D MA

68 Bernstein West Side Story piercing of ear, violence H T ff 116? 8? 928? D MA

69 Händel Solomon people, activity, light, happy H AS f 126 4 504 C B

70 Debussy Nocturnes light, happy activity H R f 164? 3 492 C I

71 Stravinsky Pétrouchka people, activity, light, cold, happy HM OAS mf 138 4 552 C MA

75 Rózsa Julius Cæsar (2) impending murder, threat L O <> 116? 3 348 D MA

76 Gershwin Porgy & Bess fear, threat, impending fight L T f 168 4? 672? D MA

78 J.S. Bach John Passion sadness, pain, many people M S ? 80? 4 320? D B

80 Ravel Daphnis & Chloë night, mystery, large space full T ppp 72 8 576 D I

81 Ravel Daphnis & Chloë full sunrise, light, smiling countryside full AS f 50 12

18 600

900 C I

82 Respighi Fontana di Trevi al meriggio noonday sun, light, heat, gushing fountain, people, grandiose apotheosis

full

A

fff

80 3

4

5 240

320

400

C

I

Goldenberg Kojak theme ? H all f 134 4 536 C MA

 

If, for example, we cut down the size of the comparative material to those examples sharing a similar pitch range to museme 2b, the following eleven examples remain:

ex. no. Composer Work Paramusical concomitants Trem. Dynam. Pulse Notes/min. Con-/disson.

50 Wilbye (madrigal) fire, etc. S ? 100 400 C

52 Händel Messiah fire (purge, refine) AS f 138 552 C

53 Stravinsky Firebird Suite fire TS f 152 608 D

58 Berlioz Prise de Troie (1) happy crowd, big space, activity R f 138 414 C

60 Berlioz Troyens à C. (1) impatient destiny R f 140 560 D

64 Ravel Daphnis et

Chloë trickling water, dew, smiling countryside, early morning AS pp 50 750 C

65 Hindemith Mathis der M. devils, hell fire, temptation R f 176 528 D

68 Bernstein West Side Story piercing of ear, violence T ff 116 928 D

69 Händel Solomon people, activity, light, happy AS f 126 504 C

70 Debussy Nocturnes light, happy activity R f 164 492 C

71 Stravinsky Pétrouchka people, activity, light, cold, happy OAS mf 138 552 C

 

Of the above examples we may exclude no. 64 (Ravel) because its dynamics (pp), tempo (q =50), and surface rate (600-900) are all quite different from those of m2b. We may also exclude the dissonant examples (53, 60, 65, 66) since the Kojak tremolo figure is so clearly consonant in the context of its tonal idiom. We are now left with examples 50, 52, 58, 69, 70 and 71 whose combined paramusical concomitants are fire (ex. 50, 52), people, activity, joy (ex. 58, 69, 70, 71), light (69, 70, 71 — also 50 and 52 since fire is by definition light) and cold (ex. 71). As can be seen from the bold type in the table above (indicating items of greatest structural similarity to m2b) these pieces of IOCM are most likely to provide us with paramusical concomitants of relevance to the understanding of the Kojak museme. Indeed, if we were to test the relevance of our interobjective comparison material even further by also considering number of notes per beat and tonal language as determining criteria, only one example would remain: the opening bars of Stravinsky’s Pétrouchka.

From the discussions, comparisons, substitutions and examples above we may firstly conclude that ideas of luminosity and activity are to be found in the museme whose affective meaning we have sought to analyse. The luminosity we are speaking of should not be regarded as constant, blinding light, but as quivering (‘tremble or vibrate with slight, rapid motion’), i.e. perceptible as quick, light, small, generally tremulous movements (like pattering, tinkling, trickling, rustling, rippling, crackling) but transferred from the realm of sound into vision, becoming shimmering (‘tremulous or faint diffused light’), glittering (‘shining with bright, tremulous light’) and sparkling (‘remitting or reflecting successive small flashes, bright with shifting points of light’).

We shall therefore conclude this section by stating what we have found to be the main affective properties of Kojak museme 2b: general, constant, bustling activity, agitated and insistent but positive, pleasant, vibrant, shimmering and luminous.

6.1.3 Other accompanying musemes

So far we have been able to establish general correspondence between the two most prominent features in the accompanying parts on the recording of the Kojak theme. We have seen how they are both conceived in modern tonal languages (m2a in the soul-jazz-funk vein, m2b in the quartal 1-4-5-1 sonorities of twentieth-century art music) and how both would seem to communicate different aspects of activity (m2a: desultory, energetic, male activity in an urban subculture and its somewhat threatening excitement, m2b: shimmering, luminous, vibrant, positive, agitated, generally bustling activity). The rest of the accompanying parts play a far less prominent roll in the Kojak theme than the bass and Moog parts and will therefore be discussed in less detail. The musemes we shall primarily be discussing are the various accompanying brass figures (m2d1, m2e1), the accompanying woodwind figures (m2c) and the motives of finality (m4). It should be remembered that we are still only referring to the ‘exposition’ and ‘recapitulation’ parts of the Kojak theme, leaving our discussion of the contrasting section (b. 14-17) until a later stage.

6.1.3.1 Accompanying brass figures

As may be gathered from the transcription, the brass parts fulfil the typically dual accompaniment function of providing the basic harmonies of the piece and its rhythmic motor in the middle pitch range. We should note how the brass parts emphasise the entry of the first fully stated melodic phrase at bar 6, marking not only the first beat of every bar but also accentuating the fourth and seventh quavers (3/8 + 3/8 + 2/8 = 4/4), a typical rhythmic grouping in much North American pop music (b. 6-13, 22-25), especially considering that this pattern is also played on electric guitar (see m2d2). The brass parts are specially audible between melodic phrases when their 3+3+2 figures in conjunction with the bass ‘offbeat filler’ museme 2a (see §6.1.1) mark the start of a new three-bar period (b. 8, 11) or new important downbeat (b. 22-25, without m2a in the bass). These are characteristics typical of ‘big band’ arrangements of the late sixties in the soul/pop/jazz genre, e.g. Jazzman, Dat Dere, Who’s Sorry Now, Dr. Hekyl and Mr. Jive. Thus the three trombones seem to be playing typically pop-soul-jazz rhythms underlining the contemporary urban and North American character of the musical environment in a similar way to that described in connection with museme 2a (see §6.1.1) while providing a general quaver perpetuum mobile rhythm based on the characteristic harmonies of the piece played at typical ‘accompaniment’ pitch (see §6.3).

6.1.3.2 The woodwind stab

The woodwind stab (m2c) was heard to be played by indistinguishable woodwind instruments (see original transcript, ex. 15, p.137). In fact it is played by four flutes, three trumpets, xylophone, harp and piano. It consists of a quartal 1-2-5-1-chord played as a sforzando quaver over a two-octave range on either the second beat of the bar (b. 14, 19) or on the fourth quaver (b. 6-13, 18, 20-21). Such syncopated interpunctuation may be regarded as underlining the unrestful, jerky, exciting and energetic aspects noted in connection with m2a and m2d (§§6.1.1, 6.1.3.1). This type of stab also occurs, in twentieth-century art music, for example in Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and Britten’s War Requiem, in conjunction with textual or choreographic sections dealing with relatively unpredictable action and agitation.

6.1.3.3 ‘Inaudible’ musemes

Most of the musemes found in the OOFS which were not audible on our recording seem merely to underline other ‘audible’ musemes that are discussed elsewhere in this book. In this connection we should mention how m2a2a and m2a2b (drums) merely underline m2a1a and m2a1b (bass), how m2d2 (guitar) underlines m2d1 (trombones) (see §§6.1.1, 6.1.3.1), and how most of the variants of m2e (downbeat emphasis) serve as indicators and emphasisers of new and important downbeats in the melodic line. Musemes 2e2a and 2e2b (drums), 2e3 (third violins) and 2e4 (harp glissando) are all inaudible on the recording, while m2e1 (trombone, regular quavers) is a distinguishable feature with syntagmatic importance, setting its quadratic rhythmic symmetry (4/8 + 4/8) in contrast to the comparative asymmetry of the 3/8 + 3/8 + 2/8 grouping described above. Museme 2e5 (bass) may to some degree be considered as part of the bass line’s general staccato non troppo e pesante character, partly as an emphasiser and marker of new and important downbeats in the melodic line. Museme 2e5 has also a certain amount of syntagmatic importance (to be discussed later) in that it occurs without m2a after bar 15.

Of all musemes audible on the original recording and transcribed in the OT, m2f, ‘sustained string sonorities’, were the least distinguishable. The chromatic trill of m2f1 and the dissonance of bar 19, both notated in the OOFS, were not sufficiently distinct on the recording to be perceived and transcribed. However, a general rise in pitch in the string parts was a perceptible phenomenon in bars 18-22 and we may consider the change from trills around middle c to straight, rising sustained chords as another interesting syntagmatic item which may possibly be interpreted as a process from comparative darkness and mystery (m2f1, m2f2 – low register, trills) to comparative light and clarity (m2f3).

6.1.3.4 Finality of overture

Apart from announcing that we have now reached the last chord in the piece (neither melody nor bass have more rhythmic-thematic-kinetic material with which to profile themselves), the final drum roll with crescendo has another function. Together with the strongly emphasised major ninth in the final trombone chord (see ex. 15 p. 137), it signals that more action is to come. Obviously, if this drum roll had occurred at the end of a symphony or after, say, ten minutes of continuous music, it could be interpreted as marking the end of all action. However, after less than one minute of music, this particular type of finality seems improbable. Although the drum roll and the major ninth in the trombone part, together with the final downbeat of the piece, highlighted by the figure preceding it (b. 28), all mark the obvious end of the Kojak theme. They also usher in subsequent action in the same way as the crescendo at the end of the short opening movement in Sibelius’ Pelleas and Melisande (Op. 46), entitled ‘At The Castle Gate’, leads into part 2: ‘Melisande’ (p. 5, b. 17-24). In this light, the final drum roll and crescendo should not be seen as a definitive ‘full stop’, so to speak, but rather as the end of a first musical paragraph, a sort of musical colon separating introduction (‘this is how it’s going to be’) from main story (‘this is actually it’). This marker of finality at the end of musical ‘openings’ is moreover stock-in-trade overture technique and can be heard before the curtain goes up for the start of action in The Barber of Seville and The Marriage of Figaro, just to mention two examples. Even if crescendi are not marked, it should be noted that in most Mozart and Rossini overtures there are nearly always final sempre ƒ or ƒƒ sections lasting about one minute (and preceded by piano or mp passages). These one minute final forte e allegro passages can be compared to the standard sempre forte e allegro character of the whole of the fifty-second Kojak theme. It seems as though the last minute of an overture should mark an increase in intensity so as to work up sufficient momentum to carry the listener’s attention over the double bar and pause before the action of the first scene of the work proper is started. In this respect the ‘musemes of finality’ (m4) can be considered as having a simultaneous function of finality and ‘bridge’.

6.1.3.5 Conclusions

The discussion of ‘other accompanying’ musemes may be summarised as follows:

1. The trombone part underlines the bass part’s role in underlining the modern North American urban character of the musical environment of the Kojak theme. It is also the harmonic/rhythmic ‘padding’ and ‘kinetic energy’ in the middle register of the music.

2. The woodwind ‘stab’ expresses sporadic, jerky, unrestful and exciting energy and may be connected to paramusical phenomena having the common affective denominators of nervous and incalculable action.

3. Miscellaneous subsidiary musemes either underline the affect of musemes described elsewhere or have a syntagmatic importance discussed in chapter 9.

4. The musemes of finality (drum roll, trombone parts with prominent major ninth, final downbeat indicator , etc.) mark not only the end of the ‘overture’ but also the impending arrival of danger, increasing the intensity of the music to carry listener attention over the double bar into the ensuing action (bridge).

Inaudible on the recording used for this analysis were: 2a2, 2d2, 2e2, 3e (see §6.1.3.3, p.182). For other comments on the transcription process, see §5.4.2, p. 0132, ff.

Ex. 33. Hatch:

Sportsnight (bass riff

from BBC TV signature).

 

Ex. 82. Respighi (1916): Fontana di Roma

(p. 46, b. 1, ff.) – La fontana di Trevi al Meriggio.

(20)

(21)

(23)

(24)

Ex. 25. Don Ellis Band (1971): Higher (bass riff)

(27)

(28)

67

68

Ex. 62. Berlioz (1863):

Les troyens à Carthage, act 3 (end).

 

m1a1

m1b1

m1c1

m1b3

m1c2

 

Ex.107. The Saint (radio theme)

Ex.86. Prokofiev’s ‘wolf’ theme (1937)

Ex.133. Official Detective

6.2 Melodic musemes

Having described the affective connotations of the accompaniment in the main part of the Kojak theme (b.1-14, 18-28), we shall now proceed to discuss its melodic musemes.

The melodic line of the piece was heard to be played by a number of French horns in unison, probably a 4. In fact the melodic line is also played by electric guitar and cellos (at the same pitch) and by the third violins (an octave higher). However, since these aspects of musicg cannot be considered to be present as musicf, we will merely be discussing the melodic material of the Kojak theme as performed unison by four French horns.

The musemes under review here are: [1] The Octave Whoop (m1a with variants); [2] The Dotted Crotchet Figure m1b (with variants); [3] The Crotchet Triplet Figure m1c (with variants). However, before starting our analysis by interobjective comparison and hypothetical substitution, there are two general points to be made. The first concerns the relationship of melody to accompaniment, the second instrumental archetypes and idiosyncrasies of the French horn.

The relationship of melody to accompaniment in the Kojak theme may be considered typical of much popular music. Melody can be defined in a number of different ways. For the purposes of this study we shall consider it to be the most easily perceptible and identifiable ‘horizontal’ line in any given piece. It may be the particular voice, line or part which is performed either loudest or which, in any given culture, is most likely to be reproducible by members of the listening community. The melody of a piece of popular music should, in the Western world, contain successive rhythmic and intervallic patterns which are recognisable but neither as iterative as ostinati nor as sporadically presented as fillers. It should be the most identifiable part of the music and will have singable traits, i.e. be contained within a singable range, with singable intervals at a singable pitch, with singable phrase lengths (breathing) and singable surface rate of tone beats (i.e. neither as fast as m1b nor as slow as m2f).

‘Accompaniment’ on the other hand may be regarded as ‘subordinate’ or ‘backing’ to other parts of the music, or musical texture (e.g. the melody). According to Apel (1958: 8), accompaniment is ‘the musical background provided by a less important for a more important part’. We could say that the ‘generality’ of accompanying parts in popular music (the backing) tends to be in contrast to the ‘particularity’ of melodic phrases (the lead). Since, as Maróthy (1974: 22, ff.) has demonstrated, the dualism of melody and accompaniment has played such an important part in Western music, at least since the Renaissance, we may assume this dualism to be readily audible (and visible) in the Kojak theme. A particular melody should stand out against a more general accompaniment in the same way as the particular foreground or ‘figure’ of a traditional visual composition is thrown into relief by its background. It should be obvious that the part showing such identifiable traits in the Kojak theme is that played by the four French horns, and we shall therefore presume the melody of the piece to be played by these instruments. We shall also refer to the horn part as the ‘figure’ of the musical composition (in the sense used in the visual arts) and to the accompaniment as its background or ‘environment’.

The second point to be considered before analysing the individual melodic musemes concerns the instrumental archetypes and idiosyncrasies of the French horn, a point requiring special treatment.

6.2.1 French horns and male heroism

Instrumental idiosyncrasy and archetype of paramusical connotation

There seems to be little doubt that the special timbre and instrumental idiosyncrasies of the French horn are associated with very definite paramusical phenomena. Rimsky-Korsakov (1922/1964: 24), for example, thought that:

The tone of the instrument is soft, poetical and full of beauty. In the lower register it is dark and brilliant (sic); round and full in the upper... In spite of valves the horn has but little mobility and would seem to produce its tone in a languid and lazy manner.

In a more recent book on orchestration Piston (1955: 242) states:

The unison of the entire horn group, usually 4 horns, is frequently employed when breadth and force are desired.

According to Francès (1958: 352) the French horn has woodland (sylvestre) connotations whereas Tarasti (1978:91) considers it to have a ‘mythical-heroic’ quality. These characterisations of the French horn are all quite contradictory.

The confusion is further compounded by such statements as ‘all of a sudden, out of the forest comes’ [ex. 86]: ‘ that’s the wolf whose tune is played by three horns.’

The confusion increases with the triumphant procession at the end of the same work: Peter’s theme is now played by the same three horns that had recently represented the big bad wolf.

Ex.87. Prokofiev (1937): Peter and The Wolf – Peter's theme.

With Peter, the wolf and the huntsmen we are clearly dealing with woodland, but with heroism only in connection with example 87. In the works of Richard Strauss we may also find examples of the French horn being used together with ‘woodland’ (example 88 is headed ‘Eintritt in der Wald’), but no trees are stipulated in the programme to the horn themes in his Don Juan (ex.95, p.192) or Ein Heldenleben (ex.104, p.194), nor is there anything specially sylvan about the PMFCs of the Kojak theme and its accompanying views of downtown Manhattan. No, the statements of Francès, Tarasti, Rimsky-Korsakov and Piston are contradictory and in need of modification. Such modification may of course be brought about by an examination of four themes (ex.88, p.188) in their individual contexts and in an analysis of intramusical factors governing nuances of expression. However, some general characteristics of the French horn need to be discussed first, more specifically the instrument’s history and uses prior to its incorporation into the orchestral texture of symphonic music in Europe. Obviously, there is no room here to recount the history of the French horn in any detail: we merely wish to clarify certain points relevant to the study at hand.

Ex.88. R Strauss: Alpensymphonie (1915: 27) – ‘Eintritt in der Wald’

The first distinction to be made is that between the horn and other brass instruments of the symphony orchestra. Presumably because of their loud and often piercing timbre, most modern brass instruments and their predecessors, have been used in conjunction with action, violence, noise, triumphal events (‘pomp and circumstance’), etc. We could say that brass instruments have been connected with traditionally male-dominated areas of activity such as war, marching, parades, hunting, chasing and their inherent affective sensations of bravery, danger, threat, aggression, energy and excitement. However, the predecessors of the modern French horn in the history of European music seem to have been less commonly used in military circumstances than early trumpets, bugles, trombones, fifes and drums; instead, horns have shown a tendency to be associated with particular areas of male-dominated activity, more specifically with hunting and postage.

The connection of the horn in the history of European music with such energetic and exciting yet non-bellicose PMFCs as men on horseback galloping through woods and fields, hard on the heels of hounds in pursuit of game (hunting), or riding ‘post-haste’ along country lanes through sleepy villages, past farm houses and cottages (postage), seems to have been a long standing tradition. It is not surprising that the horn signals used in these contexts, allowing for the lower constant volume of the contemporary soundscape (R M Schafer 1973) and for the slower, more stationary general way of contemporary life, should have been considered as in some way representing speed, excitement and energy. Baines (1976: 170) quotes the Belgian musicologist Gevaert who in 1885 recalled:

How many of us over fifty do not nostalgically remember from childhood the little cornet de poste with its cheerful sound which enlivened the tedium of a stay in a country town, bringing the bored townsfolk to their doors as the post boy tore by, hoofs shaking the paving of the street.

Typical European post and hunting horn signals included leaps of the major third but more especially fourths, fifths and octaves.

Ex.89. English Post Horn Signals incl. ‘Clear the Road’ (from Baines, 1976: 172)

Ex.90. Brackenjagd ‘Aufbruch zur iagd’ (cited in Baines, 1976: 174)

Ex.91. Marcia for post horn and orchestra (c. 1778)

Allowing for the technical idiosyncrasies and strong paramusical connections of the predecessors of the modern valve horn, it is hardly startling to discover that horn parts in symphonic works before 1850 are restricted either to doubling violin or woodwind, to holding sustained notes or to playing figures which resemble the type of post and hunting signals we have referred to above. Nor is it surprising to find horns or imitations of horns on other instruments being used in music with either the excitement of hunting scenes or the speed of postal delivery on horseback or via stage coach as explicit connotations. However, the horn signals connected with hunting and ‘post haste’ gradually became stylised with the incorporation of the horn into the European symphony orchestra and the specific cognitive messages of the original signals (e.g. ‘call off the dogs’, ‘fresh horses required’) obviously gave way to a general ‘affectivisation’ of horn signal imitations when they found their way into the concert hall. Indeed ‘hunting’ and ‘postal’ associations may be regarded as the exception rather than the rule in the works of Haydn and Mozart: instead it seems as though a sort of affective common denominator of hunting and postage remained attached to the horn since both areas of activity shared atmospheres of excitement, speed, action, energy and virility in ‘big’ environments (chase through woods and over fields, post through towns, villages, woods, countryside). Indeed, it seems natural to transfer the personally experienced feeling of these situations to more general areas of affective experience which could also be connected with excitement, action, energy, speed and virility in big environments. Such a general area would seem to be the typically ‘heroic’ experience according to the Pocket Oxford Dictionary’s notion of a hero as ‘a man admired for great deeds’, at least provided the melodic material of the horn part concerned is internally and externally consonant. Thus, since any horn part reminiscent of hunting or postal signals (all internally consonant by definition) may be considered to convey an affect of excitement, action, energy and virility, all important ‘heroic’ qualities, we should hardly regard Beethoven’s extensive use of the horn as a melodic instrument in a symphony entitled ‘Eroica’ as a mere coincidence. As Tarasti (1978:91) states:

One must consider Beethoven as one of the creators of the hero-mythical style, particularly in his Eroica symphony, where certain musical characteristics, such as those of E flat major, the timbre of the French horn... acquire a true hero-mythical meaning.

Ex.92. Beethoven (1804): Eroica Symphony (1st movement, b. 631)

Ex.93. Beethoven (1804): Eroica Symphony (Finale, bar 380)

Ex.94. Beethoven (1804): Eroica Symphony (Scherzo-Trio, bar 1)

It should be remembered that Beethoven served as a model for many composers of symphonic works in the Romantic era and that such Beethovenian ‘heroic’ use of the horn may have acted as an additional reinforcement of the already existent paramusical connotations we have mentioned above. Moreover, bearing in mind the late Romantic origins of early film music, it should be no surprise to find broad, consonant horn themes used in conjunction with excitement, action, energy and virility in ‘big’ environments.

As we have seen in Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf (ex.87 (p.187)), the mere usage of the French horn does not guarantee the expression of ‘heroism’, the positive aspects of excitement, action, energy and virility requiring different treatment (internal and external consonance, higher register, not too slow a tempo, etc.) from the expression of negative aspects of excitement, action, energy and virility (i.e. threat, danger, violence, brute force by means of internal and/or external dissonance, lower register, etc.). We shall shortly be discussing whether the horn part of the Kojak theme has ‘hero-mythical’ or other affective connotations. However, we should first understand what kind of changes in musical message would take place if the melody of the Kojak theme were to be played by other instruments.

A hypothetical substitution of cor anglais, oboe (countryside and pastorale), piccolo (cheery, cheeky, birdlike), bassoon, tuba, kazoo (humorous), cello or violins (more ‘romantic’) for French horn in the Kojak theme would probably change the strong virile and heroic connotations of the melody, not to mention what might happen if the main melodic instrument had been mandolin, balalaika, quena, zampoñas, accordéon musette, bagpipes, or even a Fender Stratocaster with maximum treble and tape delay. Even substitution of trumpet or trombone might make a considerable difference since the melodic line of the Kojak theme is written in a high, ‘powerful’ register for the horn which would disappear if played by a trumpet at the original pitch and which might become too shrill and bright if played an octave higher. A forte trombone timbre at original pitch might be less ‘rounded’, less ‘full’ than that of the horn, and if played an octave lower could well sound too mellow. Moreover, trombone phrasing and use of slide might also make for unintentionally comic effects.

So far, we may state that the choice of the French horn as conveyor of the melodic line in our analysis object leads to an expression of energy, virility, action and excitement. However, we may be far more precise than this if we analyse the three musemes of the main horn melody.

6.2.2 The octave portamento

There are three variations of the octave whoop in the Kojak theme. The first is from a crotchet upbeat on g2 to a dotted crotchet downbeat on g3, the second from a crotchet upbeat on c3 to a semibreve downbeat on c4 and the third an upbeat minim on c3 to a downbeat semibreve on c4 (all as sounding). We have called these three musemes 1a1(a), 1a1(b) and 1a1(c). The first of these three (1a1(a)/) is performed by the French horn in B$ (thinking in F), written as for horns in F with valves one and two depressed, as a portamento slur from the fourth to eighth harmonics in an overtone series based on d (sounding g) as fundamental.

The slurred octave leap g–g (sounding c3–c4) is also made possible by the presence of a number of natural harmonics on the way up if the first valve only on the same instrument (the B$ horn thinking and written in F) is depressed. With a written e$ (sounding a$) as fundamental, this octave slur should theoretically consist of a portamento from the fifth overtone (g, sounding c) over the intervening overtones up to the tenth. However, the tenth overtone in this harmonic series is flat on the instrument and the top g (sounding c) will be performed by releasing the first valve and playing it as the ninth overtone in the open eight flat harmonic series. Therefore, what we have transcribed as in the FT will be performed .

We may already note two important points for our affect analysis of these musemes. (1) The slurred octave leap in the high middle (1a1(a)) and high register (1a1(b) and (c)) of the French horn, containing a number of intervening natural overtones, played extremely quickly to give a portamento effect before reaching the first beat of the subsequent bar, are idiomatic for the instrument and may be considered as archetypal motifs on the French horn, closely resembling the whooped fourth, fifth and octave slurred leaps to be found in post and hunting signals, such as those cited above (ex. 89-90). This fact may be interpreted in a number of different ways. (1) The octave leap is reminiscent of post and hunt calls and will thereby communicate to the listener the excitement, energy and action involved in these situations; (2) such calls were used as cognitive signals to announce non-musical occurrences (e.g. ‘The Hunt Will Now Part’, ‘The Quarry Has Been Killed’, ‘Clear The Road’, ‘The Start’, ‘Change Horses’) which involve attention from a listener and an ensuing change of behaviour on his part; this would mean that such calls have a reveille and preparatory function even when transferred to a purely musical context. (3) The octave leap in the Kojak theme is part of a long tradition of highly stylised horn calls in late romantic orchestral works and in film music which in turn build on the imitation and transferred functions of the horn calls described in (1) and (2), above from a particular cognitive level to a general affective level. We shall be adopting interpretation (3) in this thesis and will now proceed to further discussion of the octave ‘whoop’ and its affective message.

As previously inferred, horn calls reminiscent of museme 1a seem to occur quite frequently in the repertoire of the late Romantic era which in turn influenced so much early film music. Let us see in what situations such horn calls occur.

The works of Richard Strauss (whose father was a well-known horn player) are noted for their rich instrumentation, not least for brass instruments and in particular the French horn. Apart from the exciting woodland and heroic horn motifs already mentioned (Alpensymphonie and Ein Heldenleben, ex.88), we should also cite the main horn theme from Strauss’s tone poem Don Juan (ex.95) which resembles our Kojak melody, not only regarding the initial octave leap from g to g (concert pitch) but also includes crotchet triplet figures played at a similar rate to those of m1c1 while violins play a bright tremolo figure not dissimilar to m1b. This horn theme is described in the foreword to the pocket score of Don Juan as ‘Das Haupttema des Mannes’, surrounded by secondary themes (sic) of female shapes. Don Juan, that independent ‘gallant knight’ and sadly testosteronic conquistador of the aristocratic bed chamber, is portrayed by Strauss in the following heroic terms.

Ex.95. R Strauss: Don Juan – ‘Haupttema des Mannes’

However, ‘heroic horn calls’ spanning an octave do not need to be played by the horn itself. The next extract (ex.96) has almost nothing musical in common with the Kojak theme or Don Juan, apart from the octave leap towards the end.

Ex.96. Mahler (1912: 26-28): Lied von der Erde (Das Trinklied von Jammer der Erde)

In this Mahler example the pulse is very slow (sehr ruhig), the accompanying parts almost static (underlining connotations of such words as Firmament, länge feststehen, etc.) until movement is suddenly injected into the harmonic rhythm (B$95–A$5) and the tenor soloist unexpectedly performs an octave portamento, not only raising the general pitch of the melodic line but also its dynamics, thus indicating a deviation from notions of eternal permanence (static, quasirecitativo accompaniment and harmony, constant middle to low register for tenor soloist) at the sudden appearance of the dynamic and positive word aufblüh’n. This flowering is underscored by the sudden change in harmonic pulse (the B$5 chord can be regarded as a sort of harmonic upbeat) and the large, consonant (=positive) leap up an octave. If we may find such paramusical connotations in conjunction with a consonant forte octave leap together with other parameters of musical expression which differ considerably from those of our analysis object, it should be easier to establish greater correspondence between museme 1a and its affective meaning using comparative material which bears musical resemblance not only to the museme itself but also to other simultaneous musical factors found in the analysis object.

Octave leaps played forte seem to occur quite often in heroic motifs in music. The positive side of the hero in Liszt’s Tasso is identified with this theme:

Ex.97. Liszt (1849): Tone Poem Tasso, first theme,

major variant (cited in Tarasti, 1978:141)

 

We could also cite the following by way of comparison.

Ex.98. Wagner’s Ring (Siegfried's sword motif)

 

The Karelian saga hero Kullervo is also connected with an octave leap:

Ex.99. Sibelius: Kullervo Symphony – 1st theme

Fig. 10 Kullervo goes to Battle by Akseli Gallen-Kallela (reproduced in Tarasti, 1978: 264).

The same Finnish hero rides to battle accompanied by the following tune:

Ex.100. Sibelius (1892): Kullervo Symphony – Kullervo goes to battle

It is interesting to note that some of the hero themes from Wagner’s Ring do not contain leaps of an octave, but of a fifth. This can be seen in Siegfried’s hero motif (ex. 101) and Siegfried’s horn call motif (ex. 102). Even the horn-like call of the Flying Dutchman is based on fifths rather than on octaves (ex. 103).

Ex.101. Wagner (1871): Siegfried's hero motif (from Hackzell & Kask, 1976: 140)

Ex.102. Wagner (1871): Siegfried's horn call (ibid.)

Ex.103. Wagner (1841): The Flying Dutchman's motif (from Tarasti, 1978: 104)

Ex.104. R Strauss (1898): Ein Heldenleben – hero motif (no.1 in Thementafel)

Now it is not our contention that heroic horn-like calls and hero motifs must span an octave. As may be seen from the examples above they may span fifths (ex. 101-103, ex. 104, b. 2-3) or even sevenths (ex. 104, b. 6, 8). They may also have a broad arpeggio character (ex. 98, ex.104, b.1-2). Nevertheless, it is not uncommon for heroic leaps, whatever the size of the interval involved, to progress from a metrically weaker point in a lower register up by at least a fourth to a metrically stronger (either accented, stressed or on an important downbeat) tone which is the perfect fifth in relation to the underlying harmony. This is true of the g in bar 2 and of the b$ in bar 10 of example 87, of the c in bar 4 of example 88, of the gs in example 90, of the b$s in examples 92-94, of the g in example 95, the 6-5 suspension (f-e$) in bars 13-15 of example 96, the gs in examples 97 and 100, the ds in examples 101 and 103, the f in example 102 and the b$s in example 104. These accented fifth degrees, approached from below and held longer than their preceding upbeat or upbeats are not unusual in the world of title music found in connection with heroes, as will be seen from the examples which now follow.

Ex.105. Koury (1955): Theme from Gunsmoke

Example 105 shows the signature theme for the Western series Gunsmoke as broadcast on both radio and television in the USA. In the radio version the announcer proclaims ‘Matt Dillon, US Marshal: the first man they look for and the last one they [the baddies] want to meet’ (*Themes Like Old Times, vol.1). Although the accompaniment to this melody may be described as typical Western ‘hoof shuffle’ (i.e. clip-clop ) in moderately slow tempo (q =108), although the nervously energetic Kojak semiquavers (m2b) have been replaced by unmeasured high trills (g4 pedal point), and although other typical ‘wild west’ musical clichés are being employed (e.g. major pentatonicism, positive and folksy melody, plagal and mixolydian harmonies), the heroic horn call from middle-range to high-range fifth is nevertheless in obvious evidence and is even followed by a long crotchet triplet figure comparable to the Kojak museme 1c. In these musical terms Matt Dillon, US marshal, is summoned to another weekly instalment of fighting for justice and the TV audience to another action-packed episode of excitement.

Ex.106. Steiner (1948): Opening titles for The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.

Example 106 features another opening fanfare, rising from first to fifth, from fifth to octave and from octave to twelfth over an accompaniment consisting of a quasi-bolero rhythm and mixolydian shuttle chords. This horn call to action prepares the way for Humphrey Bogart, filled with the spirit of pioneer adventure, to ride out into the wilds of Mexico in search of treasure. True, Bogart can hardly be regarded as playing a heroic role in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, unless Hollywood requires us to consider ‘the pursuit of individual happiness’ in the form of money-grabbing greed to be as laudable an activity as chasing villains and putting the world to right. If heroes are not supposed to be good, is raw power alone enough to warrant such a noble and grandiose call to action and attention?

Yet another mass media hero to be ushered in by an octave horn call from fifth to fifth is the Saint (initial c®c in ex.107). The theme is first whistled a cappella by the hero (the same version is used on various occasions as a recognition signal by the ‘Saint’ himself during the actual story following the titles) after which the radio announcer proclaims: ‘The adventures of the Saint, starring Vincent Price. The Saint — the Robin Hood of modern crime!’ Then the theme is repeated again, this time played by horn and clarinet, the horn making the same octave leap from (sounding) c to c as in the Kojak theme and accompanied by strings.

The next horn call rising to the fifth degree of the major scale (ex.108) — also in B$, not unlike Siegfried’s hero motif (see ex. 101 (p.194)) and even more similar to the B$ major hero motif from Star Wars (see ex. 112, p.197) — was played on a radio studio Wurlitzer organ and may be regarded as yet another hero identification. It was preceded by the announcement:

Kellogg’s Pep Breakfast presents MARK TRAIL!.... Mark Trail, preserver of wild life, guardian of the forest... [plus other epithets]... M A R K T R A I L!!!!!!! (shout with cavernous reverb).....

Ex.108. Mark Trail (US Radio Signature)

The fair-haired, fair-minded, broad-shouldered, bow-legged, outdoor pioneer hero of the film How The West Was Won and its homonymous multi-episode TV spin-off, Zeb Macahan, appeared on the screen shortly after the presentation of either of the two broad horn themes shown as examples 109 and 110.

Ex.109. A Newman (1963): How The West Was Won (film), main theme

Broad signal-like intervals of the fifth, minor seventh and octave over a march-like accompaniment of mixolydian character constitute yet another heroic reveille, introducing the television series FBI (ex.111, p.197). With that call to heroic action, the TV audience is summoned to attention and the gallant knights of the Federal Bureau to wipe out organise crime. Even the exploits of science fiction knights from the future are accompanied by late nineteenth-century brass blasts to the fifth and octave (ex. 112-113), the first of which is practically identical to the Mark Trail theme (ex. 108).

Ex.110. Immel (1976): How The West Was Won (TV)

Ex.111. Kaper (1965): The FBI (TV Theme)

Ex.112. John Williams (1977): Star Wars (main theme)

Ex.113. John Williams (1978): Superman (main theme motifs)

We conclude this run of IOCM relating to museme 1a by mentioning the impleted octave (fifth to fifth) fanfare to the British TV series The Brothers. This figure, whose cadence is not unlike that of the sword motif in Wagner’s Ring (Tarasti, 1978: 186), is closely followed by a number of octave leaps from fifth to fifth in the violin part. The viewing public is called to attention and the Hammond brothers (with associates) to yet another episode of heroic struggle to keep the ‘dignity’ of personal family business and private enterprise safe from the evils of competitors, the state, the undefined phantom of inflation and their own greedy intriguing.

Ex.114. Theme from The Brothers (British TV, mid 1970s)

This list of reveille signals preparing viewers and listeners for heroic action and excitement is based, as we have seen, on leaps of an octave or a fifth, sometimes a minor seventh, to land in most cases on the accentuated fifth degree of the scale in relation to the underlying harmony. Examples of such heroic overture music from film, television and radio could have been made much longer. We may however summarise the interobjective comparison procedure as follows: PMFCs found in connection with leaps of an octave (or perfect fifth, sometimes a minor seventh) from an unaccented to accented tone beat played forte in middle or high register, preferably by a brass instrument (especially horn) at the start of a phrase, and landing on the perfect fifth or octave (sometimes minor seventh) of the simultaneous harmony are (1) call to action, (2) call to attention (audience reveille) and (3) male heroism, energy and excitement. The latter conclusion is evident if readers can deduce which common personal and musical traits Don Juan, Tasso, Siegfried, Kullervo, The Flying Dutchman, Matt Dillon (US Marshal), The ‘Saint’, Mark Trail, Zeb Macahan, the FBI men, Superman, Luke Skywalker, ‘The Brothers’ and the hero of Ein Heldenleben are all assumed to share. Hero titles in library music catalogues, illustrated by example115, provide further evidence of this well-established connection: note the four horns’ forte insistence on the high fifth in bars 4, 5, 7, 9 and the way in which the last two are highlighted by octave whooping.

Ex.115. James Reichert (c.1970): Heroic Endeavour (Boosey & Hawkes Library)

We can also attempt to falsify these findings by means of hypothetical substitution. Firstly, it would be difficult to imagine the horn call effect of m1a1 and m1a2 being retained without the octave leap from below (ex.116). However, it seems to be more dispensable in its shorter form (1a1(a)) when connected as a crotchet upbeat to a fully independent melodic phrase (ex.116a, and as may be seen at the start of MP4, at bar 12) than in the case of m1a1(b) and m1a2 where the octave leap constitutes the motifs’ entire intervallic and rhythmic profile (ex.116b).

Ex.116. Kojak theme HS: no whoops

It would also be difficult to imagine museme la being played with the wrong dynamics (ex. 117a), the wrong accentuation (ex. 117c) or with the wrong continuation (ex. 117b) and still envisage it as retaining its original character.

Ex.117. (HS) Kojak theme: (a) dynamics (b) continuation (c) accentuation

Of course, the initial lift of the octave in example 117c is in itself identical to that at the start of MP 1, 2 and 6 in the Kojak theme but the continuation into a happy descending, staccato diatonic major tune seems to affect the total message of the phrase in the same way that the descending continuation of the octave leap (unaccented high note) at the start of Over The Rainbow (ex. 118) seems to cancel out the lift upwards and outwards, gradually falling back to the initially low starting point on the tonic, whereas in the Kojak theme the slightly strained and exciting high register is maintained throughout the whole melodic phrase.

Ex.118. Arlen (1939): Over The Rainbow

Obviously, the substitution of octave descent for ascent (c4®c3, g3®g2 instead of c3®c4, g2®g3) would turn the upward and outward character of our horn signal into something completely different, reminiscent of such romantic (or quasi romantic) sighs as those quoted in example 119.

Ex.119. Descending ‘sighing’ sixths, sevenths and octaves: (a) Springtime for Hitler (Brooks 1968); (b) Du bist wie eine Blume (Schumann 1840); (c) An die Musik (Schubert 1816); (d) l Cannot Sing The Old Songs (Claribel n.d.); (e) Love motifs from Wagner’s Ring (Hackzell & Kask, 1976: 143, 146-148)

Change of pitch has already been mentioned in connection with aspects of instrumental idiom (§6.2.1, p.186 ff.) and in comparison with the villainously threatening wolf motif in Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf. However, the effects of a chromaticisation of the original horn call at its original pitch has yet to be discussed. We could, for example, replace with and with . Such modification would of course call for change of harmony and introduce an element of mystery of the type found in numerous pieces of title music, for example the brass melody constituting the middle eight (‘release’) of the James Bond theme (ex.120).

Ex.120. M Norman (1962): James Bond theme (release)

A number of changes in tempo, harmony and pitch range of accompanying instruments would also put the horn call of the Kojak theme into a ‘wide open’ country or pastoral setting reminiscent of the portrayal of eternal nature in Mahler’s Lied von der Erde (ex. 96, p.193), or like the menuetto theme from Liszt’s Tasso, the start of Borodin’s Steppes (ex. 35, p.155) or of Copland’s ‘Prairie’ (ex. 36, p.155).

A change in the underlying harmony from to or from the ‘straight’ quartal harmonies of example 121a (original) to the stock-in-trade mystery whole-tone scale and augmented harmonies of our hypothetical substitution (ex. 121b) would lead the listener to associate to the realm of mystery, uncertainty and threat. The same sort of ‘horror’ harmony can be found in the ominous coronation scene from Boris Godunov (ex.122).

Ex.121. Kojak theme harmony HS: (a) original quartal (b) dissonant

Ex.122. Mussorgsky (1872): Boris Godunov – Coronation.

From these interobjective comparisons and hypothetical substitutions we may conclude that museme 1a, an internally and externally consonant octave leap from an unaccented fifth or first in middle register to an accented fifth or octave in high register, played forte on the French horn (unison a 4) using intervening natural harmonics in the leap to create a crescendo and portamento effect, conveys the following affective meanings: (1) it is a call to action; (2) it is a call to attention; (3) it is strong movement upwards and outwards; (4) it is virile, energetic and heroic.

 

6.2.3 The dotted crotchet figure

The dotted crotchet museme 1b occurs in two parts (melody and bass) and in two forms. The first form consists of a double repetition (1b1 or 1b3 three times in succession), the second one of a single repetition (lb2 or lb4 twice in succession). In the horn part the double repetition occurs at four points (b.6-7, 9-101 12-131 20-21) and the single repetition at one point only (b.18).

Museme 1b, played legato as a melodic motif, less so in the bass part, seems to have three main functions which appear to have more structural than inherently affective importance. Firstly it underlines the high g (d on horn in F) at the end of the preceding motif, 1a1(a)), strengthening and lengthening the exciting and urgent pitch of this tone and at the same time emphasising its consonant relationship with the accompanying sonorities. Secondly its comparative lack of intervallic profile (three major seconds in a row) acts as a syntactic contrast to the preceding and subsequent melodic musemes, throwing these into greater relief than would have been possible with ‘bolder’ middle musemes (ex.123a-b).

Ex.123. (HS) Kojak theme: no q . e q . e

Thirdly, the repetition of museme 1b seems to constitute a typical case of propulsive repetition, i.e. a repetition which drives the line forward into the subsequent idea, and follows the principle of either ‘one, two, three, go!’ or ‘ready, steady, go!’ ‘One, two, three go!’ simply means that a short musical idea occurs in similar or identical guise three times in a row after which something different happens. With ‘ready, steady, go!’ the initial idea only occurs twice before going on to something new. Both devices are extremely common in Western music before the days of minimalism and sequencing (see examples 124-126).

Ex.124. Mozart (1787): Eine kleine Nachtmusik (K525, bar. 1)

Ex.125. Beethoven (1808): Symphony no.5 in C minor, bar 1.

Ex.126. Rossini (1829): Overture to William Tell (bar 226)

The whole point of saying both ‘one-two-three’ and ‘ready, steady’ in this way is to prepare for and proceed to ‘go!’ Similarly, traffic lights must have three phases to constitute one process — in many countries [1] red, [2] (red and) amber, [3] green — preparing stationary drivers to move off, while count-ins in the recording studio must consist of at least two (usually more) pulse beats preparing the musicians to start in the right tempo. The same principle applies to the practice of synchronising concerted action ‘on the count of three’, as well as to the way in which musical motifs can be syntactically highlighted if they are preceded by at least one repetition leading listeners to expect events which will break the repetition sequence. In other words, one way in which individual musemes making up a melodic phrase may be distinguished from each other and given varying degrees of emphasis is through propulsive repetition. This principle is easily grasped by comparing the examples 124-126 (original versions) with examples 127-129 in which all repetition has been removed from the Mozart, Beethoven and Rossini extracts.

Ex.127. (HS) Eine kleine Nachtmusik without propulsive repetition

Ex.128. Beethoven’s Fifth without propulsive repetition

Ex.129. (HS) William Tell gallop without propulsive repetition

We may also put the Kojak melody to the same sort of test:

Ex.130. (HS) Kojak theme: (a) original, (b) no propulsive repetition

We stated earlier that the main function of the dotted crotchet plus quaver figure (m1b) was more syntactic than intrinsically affective. This statement should be modified somewhat since this type of rhythm when played legato is quite different in character from that of the substitutions shown in example 131.

Ex.131. (HS) Kojak theme q . e: (a) cha-cha (b) inverted dotting (c) alla marcia

In ex.131a, m1b is played staccato (= detached, cut up) and is obviously different from the legato (= bound, tied, joined, smooth) affect of the original; it sounds more like a cha-cha (Prado 1958; Dorsey 1958) than the title music for a heroic detective series. The second example (131b) is reminiscent of the jaunty ‘snaps’ of Scottish folklore and ex. 131c consists of straight crotchets and march rhythms. The difference between q q q e. x and q . e q . e may at first sight seem rather academic, but it is our contention that ex. 131c reflects a radically different type of movement or experience of movement to that found in the original museme 1b. Such a claim warrants a short explanation.

The regular crotchets of example 131c can be compared to the regular ticking or beating of machinery and can be felt by moving your arm to and fro in a straight line and at a constant velocity between two points in the air at which you make regularly recurring, momentary pauses of equal duration, marking the crotchet beats. The q . e q . e of the original cannot be experienced in this way, at least if the legato character of the figure is to be retained. Instead, the more flowing (legato) movement of ] q . e q . e } can be felt by moving the arm to and fro at the same regular pace, this time without pausing momentarily at each extremity of the arm’s movements. It will be found that it is impossible to keep a constant velocity in this arm movement if you do not drop your arm slightly in the middle of the movement to and fro, this ensuring that a regular pulse is maintained in the same way as that produced by a swinging pendulum. This swinging movement consists of a regular pulse (the extremities of the movement are reached at regular intervals), but the velocity of the movement between these two extremities will not be constant, due to the laws of gravity. The pace will be fastest where the angle between the string of a pendulum or the chains of a swing and the ground is nearest 90º (vertical) and slowest the nearer the string or chains approach an angle of 180º (horizontal) with the ground. This phenomenon can be observed when riding on a swing and by timing the duration of the path of swing seat as you pass between points A and B, B and C, C and D, D and E. (figure 11).

Fig. 11. Speed of pendulum between equidistant points

Supposing the angle of the pendulum to be Q, the length of the string (or chains) to be l (l) and the time for the pendulum to pass from A to B to be 1 (one undefined unit of time), the equation enables us to calculate that the time taken by the pendulum to pass from A to B or D to E (or vice versa) is twice as long as the time it takes to pass from either B to C or from C to D (or vice versa), despite the fact that the lengths AB, BC, CD, EF are all equal. This means that if you were to sing the note g while the pendulum (swing) was between A and B as well as while it was between D and E, but the note f while the pendulum (swing) was between points B and D, then your notes on g would be twice the length of those on f. Supposing, for example, the time taken to pass from A to B is that of a quaver, pendulum distance times could be measured in note values and the relative time spent on g and f would be which, in musical terms (and still using our notes g and f) is notatable as the swaying pattern

It is from such a perspective the phenomenon of rocking cradles and singing lullabies in compound time makes good sense. However, our legato melodic museme 1b is not in triple metre and the relation of long to short notes is not in the proportion 2:1 as above but 3:1; we should also remind ourselves that tendencies to ‘double-dot’ (e.g. French overtures of the baroque) are as common as tendencies to even out dotted figures from the proportions 3:1 to 2:1 (boogie). On the other hand, tendencies to even out q . e to q 3 e are more likely in legato performance and in Afro-American music, two characteristics of the Kojak theme, and we shall therefore regard the rhythm of museme 1b as more akin to swing or shuffle than to march patterns, closer to qualities of swaying and undulation than to rigid, jerky or stabbing types of movement.

In summary we may assume the legato dotted crotchet figure m1b to possess an undulating, swaying character in addition to its syntactic function of emphasising the consonant g (d for horn in F) of the first museme (1a1(a)) and of preparing the way for the third and final museme of the phrase 1d. In emphasising the long, consonant melodic notes (the fifth) and in laying down a steady, repeated legato figure in 4/4-time, it throws the whole of the melodic line into relief against the contrasting staccato ma pesante jerkiness of the bass part, the shimmering nervous energy of the Moog ostinato and the asymmetric rhythms and periodicity of bars 15-17 (B section). These aspects, together with its singable range, intervals, pitch, rhythm and phrasing, also give m1b1 an affect of comparative calm and confidence.

6.2.4 The triplet figure

We have already a seen a number of triplet figures in our analysis of the octave ‘whoop’ (1a). These followed various horn calls in such heroic themes as those found in R Strauss’s Don Juan (ex. 95, p.192) Liszt’s Tasso (ex. 97), R Strauss’s Ein Heldenleben (ex. 104, p.194), the signature to Gunsmoke (ex. 105), Mark Trail (ex. 108, p.196), The FBI (ex. 111, p.197) and The Brothers (ex. 114, p.197). In fact the use of triplets seems to be as common a trait of idiomatic writing for brass instruments as the use of major thirds, perfect fifths and octaves. These traits can be regarded as instrumentally archetypal if we consider their occurrence in heroic or virile contexts in the works of the Romantic era, for example in connection with the words ‘Gloire et triomphe à ces héros’ in Berlioz’ Symphonie funèbre et triomphale, in Siegfried’s horn call motif (ex. 102 (p.194)) or in the following extract entitled ‘Der Anstieg’ (=Ascent).

Ex.132. R Strauss (1915): Alpensymphonie – Der Anstieg

This kind of triplet () runs at twice the rate of the crotchet triplet () featured in the Kojak theme and differences between the two types are discussed below (pp. 208-209). In this context we merely intend to register a certain predilection for triplet figures in fanfares and horn calls, or in music associated with heroic, masculine, active and energetic situations. The quaver triplets can often have a somewhat martial character (e.g. quick triplet figures on snare drums in marches), as in the following example, an extract from the end of the signature theme for the US-American radio series Official Detective. The radio announcer proclaims:

OFFICIAL DETECTIVE.... dedicated to the men who protect your safety and guard your home... your police department.

This announcement is then followed by eight bars of heroic, almost hymn-like march music on the studio Wurlitzer, finishing with the triplet figure shown as example 133. Another example of martial triplets, first in menacing, augmented chromatic versions (ex.127a, b), thereafter in heroic diatonics, is to be found in the signature theme to the American radio series Counterspy. The male speaker announces: ‘COUNTERSPY!’. Then a fog horn is heard (mystery) immediately followed by brass instruments playing a broader crotchet triplet motif on chromatically rising augmented chords:

Ex.134. (a) (b) (c) Counterspy (Themes Like Old Times, vol. 1)

 

After this the radio voice of a CIA official are heard in dialogue with our hero:

[CIA] Washington calling Counterspy (twice)… [morse signals]… [Counterspy] Counterspy calling Washington.

Then the tension increases with the following chromatic fanfare including another crotchet triplet figure:

Ex. 134b

This is followed by another announcement by the radio speaker who proclaims

‘The Blue Network presents COUNTERSPY!’

After this we hear the main heroic (hymn-like, diatonic, non-chromatic, non-atonal) theme, its melody starting with an octave call from low to high fifth over tonic root position and continuing into dotted crotchet and quaver triplet figures:

Ex. 134c

This tune is faded out after four more bars as the announcer informs us:

‘Germany has its Gestapo, Japan its Black Dragon, but matched against these secret enemy agents are Uncle Sam’s highly trained counterspies. Visualise ace counterspy of them all: David Harding!’

The signature theme is then faded in again and with yet another figure ends on a dissonance (comparable to the timpani at the end of the Kojak theme), increasing tension, excitement and expectations at the start of yet another thrilling episode of wartime secret agent adventure.

In example 135 we hear rising fifths and martial triplets in a slightly more modern tonal language but with similar connotations: activity, heroism, energy, etc.

Ex.135. Hatch (1967): The Champions (TV theme)

and seem to be so frequently used in heroic and martial contexts that it would almost be pleonastic to continue enumeration of their occurrence. We will therefore content ourselves with the mere mention of such triplets in other examples, such as in a scene portraying the rallying of troops in the film They Died With Their Boots On (Steiner 1942), in various scenes of heroic action from Robin Hood, The Sea Hawk (Korngold 1938, 1940), The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (Steiner 1948), and a number of other films. We should also mention the occurrence of martial triplets in the signatures or title themes to such heroic masculine productions as Richard Diamond Private Eye, Brave Tomorrow, The Air Adventures of Jimmy Allen, The Adventures of Frank Merriwell, Crime Does Not Pay, One Eyed Jacks, True Grit, etc.

From the examples mentioned or quoted above (ex. 91, 93, 100, 101, 104, 107, 108, 125-128) we may assume that and figures are so common in connection with heroic and martial PMFCs that they may be considered as archetypal items of affective musical code. However, this does not mean that all triplets automatically have this affective character. Perpetual, constant fast triplets over a fast pulse in compound triple time, as in jigs, can hardly be regarded as heroic or martial any more than triplets played piano to an accompaniment in slow tempo, as in English ‘landscape’ music or French impressionism; nor are we dealing with the crotchet triplets in the vocal part of the classical evergreen or ‘hit’ number from an American musical, the triplet figures of blues, boogie and rock and roll or with the 12/8 rhythms in the teenage ‘milksap’ of the nineteen fifties. This will be clearer if we insert the tempo, rhythm and dynamics of jigs, English pastoral landscape music and US-American ‘milksap’ and evergreen into the Kojak theme.

Ex.136. (HS) Kojak theme: (a) as jig; (b) as English Romantic pastorale; (c) as US pop milksap c.1959, (d) as jazz standard on bar piano 136.

Apart from changing the accompanying figure, tempo, harmony and dynamics (ex.129) we could also halve the time value of the triplet (ex.137).

Ex.137. (HS) Kojak theme: triplet speed: (a) original crotchets (b) quavers

The difference in affective message between example 137(a) and (b) is small but significant. The quick, lively triplet seems brisker and lighter than the broad crotchet triplet of the original (ex.137a) which is a slower, calmer figure. The affective difference between brisk (accelerating) and broad (decelerating) triplets is also clearly perceptible between the two main sections of the Champions theme (ex. 135, p.207).

We can find the fanfare triplets and in the grandiose opening to Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, in the finale of Shostakovich’s fifth symphony resolving, as Cooke (1959: 56) suggests ‘the tragic and tense impulses of the earlier movements and the joy of living’, together with designates such as goldene and voller Kraft at the start of Mahler’s Lied von der Erde, in the mighty finale ‘The Gates of Kiev’ in Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, in the grandiose brass finale to Bartók’s Concerto for 0rchestra (1944: 138, b.556, ff.) and in conjunction with heroic and martial phenomena in vast quantities of other music. We choose to end this part of our comparisons with other virile heroic triplet fanfares by citing the last few bars of Hindemith’s Mathis der Mahler. By the time this music appears, Saint Anthony has emerged victorious over the devil, his temptations and torment (see ex. 65, p.166). Full brass orchestration, quasi-modal, mostly tertial harmonies, played homophonically as wide q q3 q and h h3 h rhythmic motifs, leave no doubt in the listener’s mind about the ultimate victory of good over evil.

Ex.138. Hindemith (1934): Mathis der Mahler – finale

The final points to be made about museme 1c concern its intervallic, melodic and harmonic character. Apart from the fact that phrasing and dynamics (e.g., staccato e piano) would change the affective nature of this motif (a change so obvious that need be no more than mentioned en passant), we could also alter the character of the triplet by changing its internal interval structure while preserving the basic melodic vocabulary of the piece:

Ex.139. (HS) Kojak theme triplet: pitch profile: (a) original; (b) and (c) small intervals.

This alteration of melodic contour affects the total message of the phrase very little, but it is hardly inconceivable that the wider interval of a minor seventh (c ® e$ ® b$)might give the figure more ‘lift’, ‘size’ and ‘boldness’ than the more ‘cautious’ substitutions’ (ex.139b, 139c).

If we chromaticise the fanfare figure (an alteration requiring a chromaticisation of its underlying harmony) the resultant effect is more likely to be one of mystery, threat, unrest and uncertainty, such as that described in connection with the same type of substitution applied to the horn call archetype m1a (see §6.2.2, ex. 120-122).

Ex.140. (HS) Kojak theme triplet’s ‘atonalisation’: (a) original (b) ‘atonal’ (c) chromatic harmony

In summarising our analysis of museme 1c we shall base our conclusions on the results of the hypothetical substitutions and on the common denominators of PMFCs found in our interobjective comparisons. The reader may deduce which common affective connotations are shared by ‘Clear the Road’ (ex.91, p.189), Don Juan (ex.95, p.192), Tasso (ex.97, p.193), the hero of Ein Heldenleben (ex.104, p.194), Matt Dillon US Marshal (ex.105, p.195), Mark Trail (ex.108, p.196), The (Hammond) Brothers (ex.114, p.197), the ‘ascent’ in Alpensymphonie (ex.132, p.205), Official Detective (ex.133, p.206), Counterspy (ex.134, p.206), The Champions (ex.135, p.207) and the victorious St. Anthony in Mathis der Mahler (ex.138, p.209), not to mention all the examples of triplets referred to in passing and in footnotes in order to understand the meaning of museme 1c.

We therefore conclude that the affective meaning of the consonant crotchet triplet figure 1c, played forte by unison French horns a 4, spanning a minor seventh (minor third plus perfect fifth), at a high pitch for the instrument and including the highest note of the melodic phrase (b$) can be summarised in the following terms. It is an archetypal brass fanfare figure expressing strength (forte), breadth, boldness and confidence (speed of figure, spacing of intervals) of a martial, individual (§6.4) and masculine, heroic nature.

6.3 The harmonic language

The harmonic musemes of the A section (bars 1-14, 18-28) of the Kojak theme will be discussed in three main parts: (1) the significance of the type of harmonies used as meaningful entities in themselves and the relation of harmonic musemes to other accompanying musemes (§6.3.1); (2) the total paradigmatic complex of melody, harmony and accompanying parts (§6.4), leaving (3) syntagmatic aspects to be treated at a later stage (§9).

The type of harmonic language used in the Kojak theme is, apart from the B section (bars 15-17, see §6.5.), based on a tonal but ‘non-functional’ sort of sonority. The general sonorities we are referring to are those found in museme 2g, i.e. C7sus4, Cm11, E$7sus4, C11, E$m11 and Csus4add9 (see figure 8, p.149). All these chords share the common trait of ‘thirdlessness’, i.e. they are not based on common triads or extensions of common triads by addition and alteration but on various combinations of perfect fourths and fifths: they are, in a word, quartal. Since the perfect fifth is present in both standard tertial tonal harmony and in the quartal harmony of the Kojak theme we may conclude that the basic difference between the two types of harmonic language is whether the common chord of each respective language either (1) does or does not contain a third or (2) does not or does contain a perfect fourth in relation to the root (prime) of the chord. Thus, the common triads of C major and minor (containing thirds but no fourths) may be regarded as tertial translations of the sonorities |.

With the exception of the final ‘common’ quartal chord (Csus4add9 or Cno5add9 if we disregard the semiquaver f in the Moog part), all chords in the Kojak theme contain both perfect fourth (eleventh) and minor seventh; this chordal construction can be understood in terms of ‘piles of fourths’, as shown in example 141.

Ex.141. The Kojak chords as piled fourths: (a) C7sus4;

(b) Cm11; (c) E$7sus4; (d) E$m11 ®

The theme’s final chord, on the other hand, may be easier to understand as piles of perfect fifths. For example, the two fifths c-g and g-d produce the ‘common’ quartal chord shown as examples 142(a) and (c), while the three fifths f-c, c-g, g-d (ex. 142d) give us Csus4,9 and the series of four fifths (b$-f, f-c, c-g, g-d) construct the C11 chords shown as example 142(e) and (f). Once the quartal chord contains more than three different notes, it makes no real difference whether it is conceptualised in terms of fourths or fifths. For example, the pile of fifths shown in ex.142(g) contains exactly the same notes as ex.141(b) or as ex.143(b): all three constitute a Cm11 chord, the dominant sonority of the Kojak theme.

Ex.142. Quartal chords as piled fifths

It might be objected that our manner of qualifying these chords as quartal is false on the grounds that the chord of the eleventh is based on a pile of thirds, i.e. that C11 should be understood as consisting of the notes c, e, g, b$, d, f and Cm11 of the notes c, e$, g, b$, d, f. This objection is correct in theory but false in practice since the major third is almost always omitted from major chords of the perfect eleventh (ex.143a), and because the minor third in minor chords of the perfect eleventh is often treated as just another constituent note in a pile of fourths (ex.143b), as can be seen in bar 21 of the OOFS (violin and trombone parts in ex.15, p.137) and in the FT (piano reduction in ex.19, p.140, ff.).

Whatever the disposition of notes inside the chords of the A section in the Kojak theme it should be clear that we are dealing with a type of tonality which can be characterised in a number of ways, for example as bitonal (Cm11 is a common B$ major triad superimposed on a common C minor triad), quasi modal (dorian or aeolian without the sixth degree) or as quartal (‘fourthy’, ‘non-tertial’, etc.).

It should also be evident that the notes contained within all chords of the A section coincide with the ‘la-pentatonic’ scale 1-$3-4-5-$7 (Kodály 1957: 4).

Ex.144. Minor pentatonic scales of C & E$

With the addition of the major second (ninth), these scales constitute the entire tonal vocabulary of the Kojak theme, both melody and harmony.

6.3.1 Quartal harmony in classical music

The type of tonality mentioned above is, as we have stated, not based on traditional tertial (‘functional’) harmony. With the exception of Domenico Scarlatti’s odd excursion into Andalusian folk polyphony, quartal tonality does not seem to appear anywhere in the European art music tradition before the imitation of folk music sonority in the works of the Russian nationalists and French impressionists. Basing his harmonic language on the parallel fourths and fifths and the unprepared and unresolved sevenths of Russian folk music (ex.145), Mussorgsky (ex.146a, 146b) — and, to a certain extent, Borodin (ex.148a, 148b) — developed a type of quartal harmony which was later used by Debussy (ex.149a, 149b).

Ex.145. ‘Quartal’ Russian folk song

Ex.146. ® Mussorgsky (1879): Darling Savishna ®

Ex.147. ¯ Mussorgsky (1874): Pictures at an Exhibition: ‘The Old Castle’

Ex.148. Borodin: (a) In the Forest (1886); (b) The Sleeping Princess (1867)

Ex.149. Debussy (1910): La cathédrale engloutie

Ex.150. Debussy (1901): Pour le piano – Sarabande

Whereas this type of quartal, quasi-modal or pentatonic sonority seems only to occur sporadically in the works of Debussy with possible affective associations of ‘unknown novelty’ or exoticism (a ‘non-atonal’ negation of standard functional harmony) it may be considered the rule rather than the exception in the neoclassical works of Stravinsky and German composers of church music, such as Angerer and Distler. However, the most influential exponents of quartal harmony were probably Hindemith and Bartók. In the case of all these post-impressionist composers the use of quartal sounds cannot be considered as conveying a specifically exotic affect although influences from Gregorian plainchant and the Netherlandish polyphonic school (Angerer, Distler) or from folk music (Bartók) may be regarded as part of the origin of the new harmonic language. Apart from a piano piece actually entitled ‘fourths’, we should mention Bartók’s Dance Suite, his second Piano Concerto, Divertimento for Strings, Concerto for Orchestra and, of course, the string quartets, all of which bear witness to a quartal type of tonal idiom. We choose to exemplify Bartók’s use of quartal sonorities by citing an extract from string quartet no.2 (ex.151).

Ex.151. Bartók (1917): String Quartet No.2 – 3rd movement at 4

Chords of this type are also common in Hindemith’s works. We could have chosen an example from Ludus Tonalis or the organ sonatas but prefer once again to cite Mathis der Mahler, this time the second movement, entitled ‘Interment’ (ex.152).

Ex.152. Hindemith (1933): Mathis der Mahler – ‘Grablegung’

As a final example of early usage of quartal harmony in art music (this time inspired by Spanish folk music) we will cite a passage from the end of ‘The Miller’s Dance’ in de Falla’s ballet The Three Cornered Hat (ex.153).

Ex.153. De Falla (1919): El sombrero de tres picos

(‘Farruca’)

From this short résumé we conclude that the use of quartal chords as sounds requiring no resolution 4®3 or 2®1 dates back as far as the Russian nationalists (e.g. Mussorgsky) and to French impressionism. We have, however, seen that this harmonic idiom did not become standard compositional practice before the neoclassical period (Stravinsky, Hindemith, Bartók) and that it has crept into the vocabulary of soundtrack music only comparatively recently (see §4.1.2, p.85 ff., §6.1.2, p.158 ff.).

6.3.2 Quartal harmony in jazz and rock

We were unable to attribute any specific affective significance to the use of quartal harmony within the works of Hindemith, Bartók, etc. The same observation seems to apply to its use in jazz. Although certain archaic types of American folk banjo tunings are based on fourths and fifths which can be played as open strings sounding 1-4-5-1 throughout a whole piece, it is hardly probable that the post-bebop jazz musicians of the late fifties and early sixties drew on the archaic remnants of white Appalachian folklore to renew their harmonic language. It seems far more probable that the quartal direction taken by composers of modern art music (see above) was the main source of inspiration for such pioneers as Miles Davis and John Coltrane. On Kind of Blue (1959) Miles Davis paved the way for a simpler ‘new’ kind of jazz harmony which may be seen as a sort of reaction against the chordal strait jacket of the bebop era with its complicated changes from one vastly ‘altered’ tertial chord to the next. The new type of quasi-modal fourth/fifth harmonies in Davis’s work meant that the augmented, diminished and intricately altered polytonal chords of bebop and their often rapid rate of change were replaced by numbers based on an extremely limited number of parallel changes (‘wholesale transpositions’) of the type found in the Kojak theme and in a Davis number entitled So What (ex. 154).

Ex.154. Miles Davis (1959): ‘So What’ (Kind of Blue)

This type of uncluttered harmonic structure left room for the sort of modal and pentatonic improvisatory techniques which can be heard in much work by John Coltrane, on many of Miles Davis’s recordings after Kind of Blue (e.g. Bitches Brew, 1970), in the early piano style of Chick Corea, not to mention numerous recordings by musicians such as McCoy Tyner and Freddie Hubbard (ex.155).

Ex.155. Freddie Hubbard (1970): Red Clay (as cited by Ingelf, 1977)

This enumeration of quartal chords in modern jazz could have been made much longer. It should be stressed that such harmonies are extremely common both in the jazz and art music spheres, occurring on the other hand very seldom in pop and rock and then, at least to any significant extent, only either in conjunction with modernised or electric arrangements of melodically modal folk song (e.g. Steeleye Span, Alan Stivell, Folk och rackare) or with a type of pop music qualifiable as ‘jazz rock’. This means that quartal harmony may only be found sporadically in rock music and then mostly in work by such artists as John McLaughlin, The Brecker Brothers, etc.

6.3.3 Quartal harmony in the Kojak theme

Since we are so far unable to draw any conclusions about specific affective properties of the type of tonality we have been discussing, finding instead the use of quartal harmonies in certain types of modern art music and jazz to be the basis of a sort of a new general harmonic language rather than a sporadically employed colouring device (i.e. the rule, not the exception), it would at first sight appear that the quartal harmony of the Kojak theme ‘means’ nothing in particular, especially considering the fact that such sonorities are the rule rather than the exception in our analysis object as well. However, such a conclusion may be easily falsified by the technique of hypothetical substitution by which we shall be able to see if any difference in musical message is brought about by a change to a different type of tonality. We could try the standard type of tertial modal harmony used with almost mechanical regularity in Westerns.

Ex.156. (HS) Kojak with ‘Western’ tertial modal harmony

If we were also to substitute the soul inspired bass line of the Kojak theme with the 4/4 gallop figure of the Cartwright Brothers in High Chapparall, with the 4/4 ‘clip-clop’ of Matt Dillon in Gunsmoke or the 12/8 chase figures of the Valkyrie or Erlkönig (i.e. or or or ), we would hear Lt. Theo Kojak not of the New York Police Department but of the Wild West.

A change to ‘older’ types of tertial harmony would not only be unsuited to Kojak’s melodic line (hence the difficulties of constructing this sort of hypothetical substitution) but also transfer our hero to the environment of bygone days. The following chorale harmonisation (ex.149) and four-part pastiche of late sixteenth-century polyphony (ex.150) should make this point clear and we should not need to construct fictitious Viennese string quartets, Baroque organ works, Couperinesque Pièces de Clavecin, impressionist tone poems, symphonic openings, New Orleans Jazz, country blues etc. around the melody of the Kojak theme to establish that a change of harmonic language will mean a change of message, radically altering the detective story’s Representation der dargestellten Zeit.

Ex.157. (HS) Kojak as a Hymn

 

Ex.158. (HS) Kojak as 16th Century Polyphony

If we revert once again to current uses of tertial harmony, such as those used in popular genres, and, retaining the melodic line of the Kojak theme, merely substitute various idiomatic accompanying figurations, we will find some interesting changes of musical meaning. In example 159 we have used the simplified, pseudo-classical harmonies and quasi-Mendelssohnian arpeggios of Romantic piano music which may be frequently be found in love songs in the French or Italian vein.

Ex.159. (HS) Kojak as romantic pop ballad

In this musical guise we would expect Kojak to turn into a more romantic or deeply psychological person and his environment would have to be more concerned with love and personal relationships.

We could (also at a reduced tempo) make Kojak part of the heavy rock scene by changing harmonic language and accompanying figurations in a different way (ex.160). In this case the music becomes highly reminiscent of J J Cale’s Cocaine (1976), containing stylistic traits from the music of such groups as Deep Purple, The Rolling Stones, The Steve Gibbons Band. and Lynyrd Skynyrd, all of which puts Kojak into the moods and environments generally connected with that type of music, ie.exuberant white males in westernised and industrialised capitalist society, currently between 15 and 30 years of age and wearing jeans.

Ex.160. (HS) Kojak as heavy rock

Kojak’s well-tailored suit and more sober image do not fit the harmonies of example 160 either; nor do they suit the ‘hip’ type of ‘funkiness’ found in the Spanish Harlem image of Baretta or the black Harlem roots of Shaft. We would be faced by another ‘wrong’ type of modernity if Kojak were to be accompanied in the funky manner of example 161 but seems to need something a little more staid and sober than rock and funk harmonies and accompaniment. Perhaps a sophisticated bossa nova backing, such as that provided in example 162 might fit the bill?

Ex.161. (HS) Kojak as funk

Ex.162. (HS) Kojak as bossa nova.

This bossa nova substitution might well suit Kojak’s age and time (Representation der dargestellten Zeit) but hardly his environment (Raum). Example 162 is more likely to put Kojak either in a generally luxurious nouveau riche environment or in Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo or Southern California.

Our final substitution (ex.163) shows what happens if we replace the fourths of the harmony in the Kojak Theme with thirds and sevenths. Here Cm7 (E$6) chords replace the quartal Cm11 sonority of the original, making the modern, slightly tenser Bartókian, Hindemithian or post-bebop ostinato shimmer (m2b) into the ‘older’, more relaxed type of ostinato shimmer to be found in Sinding’s Frühlingsrauschen and the piled fourths of the original trombone part (m2d) into the more everyday sounds of a normal pop song.

Ex.163. (HS) Kojak with Cm7 instead of Cm11

From the comparisons and substitutions carried out above we may conclude that the main function of the quartal harmonies in the Kojak theme is the specification of time and environment. We find ourselves at the earliest in the latter half of the nineteen sixties, probably some time in the seventies. This is because, as we have seen, quartal harmony did not cross over from the realms of art music and jazz into popular music until this time (McLaughlin, etc.). Moreover, such sonorities are still comparatively rare in popular music and the lack of interobjective material [in 1979] showing correspondence of harmonic language in other signature tunes and title themes would appear to support the theory that the type of tonality we have been discussing should convey a definite affect of topical modernity. It is also conceivable that a certain amount of ‘class’, ‘quality’ and ‘complexity’ could be associated with these quartal harmonies, which were, at their time of inclusion in a signature tune, definite loans from non-popular (therefore more ‘classy’ and of ‘better quality’) and more difficult (therefore more ‘complex’) types of music. However, there is nothing specifically American or urban about the harmonic language of the Kojak theme. Not only the internal composition of each chord but also the parallel transposition up a minor third (C to E$) occur in such environmentally divergent genres as post-bebop jazz (ex.154-155, p.216), French impressionism (ex. 149-150, p.213) and in the works of Béla Bartók. It is also conceivable that the high register of the Moog ostinato and the lack of thirds may for some listeners convey a certain lack of warmth, this excluding the possibility of transmitting a romantic, erotic or sensual mood in relaxed environments. A certain amount of material corroborating such a hypothesis has already been presented although it should be clear that we are not dealing with the type of cold atmosphere found in Antarctic, glacier or spine chilling musics nor to anything negative or threatening, as can be gathered from previous arguments about atonal or chromaticised substitutions.

We may therefore conclude our discussion of the quartal harmonies found in the A section of the Kojak theme by summarising their affective message as follows: definite modernity and a positive (consonant) but possibly cold (register, instrumentation) type of environment (accompaniment).

6.4 The A section as a museme stack

So far we have been able to state the following about the individual musemes of the A section of the Kojak theme:

1. Bass: intense energy, action and desultory unrest, male-dominated areas of activity, unquiet, aggressiveness, atmosphere of a large North American city, the energetic and somewhat threatening excitement of its subculture.

2. Moog: general, constant bustling activity, agitated and insistent but positive, pleasant, vibrant, shimmering and luminous.

3. Brass: modern, energetic, urban North American environment.

4. Woodwind: unrestful, jerky, exciting.

5. Harmony: modern, positive (perhaps cold) environment.

6. Horn:

a) call to action and attention, strong individual movement upwards and outwards, virile, energetic, heroic

b) undulating, swaying, calm and confident, propelling into

c) fanfare of strength, breadth, boldness and confidence; something individual, martial, male and heroic.

We have also stated that one of the most important contradiction in the piece is that between melody (horn) and accompaniment (other parts) and suggested that such a relationship be compared with the figure-ground dualism to be found in the visual arts. In this way we may also consider the horn part to be in some way identifiable with an individual (unison melody) and the remaining parts identifiable with the generality of the psychological, chronological and physical environment in which this individual exists. What is of interest in this context is a precise description of the paradigmatic relationship between melodic line (the individual) and accompaniment (environment), or, to put it in Lissa’s terms, between music as (a) Ausdrucksmittel psychischer Erlebnisse (in one character) and (b) Representation des dargestellten Raums, der dargestellten Zeit and Mittel zur Antizipierung des Handlungsinhalts.

If we attempt to scale the various parts involved in the paradigmatic complex we are now discussing according to their descending order of audibility and identifiableness we will find the following list of priority: (1) melody (horn), (2) bass part, (3) other parts. This general division of parts is typical for much popular music and consists of one primary and three subsidiary contradictory or complementary relationships (figure 12):

Fig. 12. Relationship of melody to accompaniment in popular music

The main relationship (‘R1’ in figure 12) is between melody and accompaniment and the subsidiary links or contradictions are between melody and bass (relationship ‘R2’), between melody and other accompanying parts (R3), and between bass and other accompanying parts (R4). In this way we may say that the affective message of the horn part stands out against the affective message of the accompaniment in general and that the affective message of the bass part stands out against that of the remaining accompanying parts. We may thus construct a paradigmatic model (fig.13) schematising the relationships as follows:

Fig. 13. Model for analysis of museme stacks

As far as the A section of the Kojak theme is concerned, these basic relationships of the melody-accompaniment dualism may be expressed as follows (figure 14):

Fig. 14. Analysis of A section museme stack in the Kojak theme (bars 5-14 or MPs 2-4)

Melody Type of relation Accompaniment

a call to action and attention, strong, individual movement, up and outwards: virile, energetic and heroic, leading to undulating swaying calm and confidence – something individual, male, martial and heroic

stands out against, is heard above, is stronger than, is engaged in dialogue with Bass Type of relation Other parts

energy, excitement, desultory unrest: male aggressiveness, threat of subcultural environment in large North American city

 

is part of, rumbles below, is heard through general, constant, bustling activity: agitated, pleasant, vibrant, luminous, modern, urban American: sometimes jerky, unrestful, exciting

 

We have previously treated a large number of affective paradigms but have so far avoided discussion of the meaning of the total sound of the A section as a paradigmatic phenomenon (museme stack). Figure 12 is an attempt at presenting this total paradigm of musical affect, experienceable in present time, in verbal form. Our reason for not having dealt with the matter before is that the paradigm is composed of so many variable parameters of musical expression that the probability of finding exact parallels for interobjective comparison in other musical works in relevant genres would have been infinitesimally small. The particular museme stack or paradigmatic combination (and permutation, if we consider the variation of musemes in the melodic line as a process) we are dealing with here is in other words peculiar to the Kojak theme and therefore unique despite the obvious musematic similarities found at more elemental levels. This will be clearer if we attempt to falsify our hypothesis about the affective meaning of the A section as a paradigmatic phenomenon (fig.12) by using extracts from another work bearing paradigmatic resemblance to the part of our analysis object now under discussion.

6.4.1 Kojak and the Valkyrie

Using MP2 and MP3 — bars 6-11 in the final transcription (ex.19, p.140) or bar 6 in the OOFS (ex.17, p.138) — as our reference point in the Kojak theme and short extracts from Wagner’s Valkyrie (ex.164-166) as comparative material, we now intend to see what similarities and differences may be found between the two by comparing the relationships between the intramusical and paramusical phenomena of both pieces.

Ex.164. Wagner (1856): Die Walküre – 1er Aufzug: Vorspiel

Ex.165. Wagner (1856): Die Walküre (Overture)

Before the curtain goes up in Act I, scene 1 of Wagner’s Valkyrie, the hero (Siegmund) is fleeing his enemies (the Niedings) in stormy weather in a Teutonic forest (ex.156, 157). The situation in ex.158 is as follows: the Valkyrie have been carrying the bodies of heroes to Valhalla on their horses and are now riding back to assemble on a mountain top. Once again this overture music (before the curtain goes up on the third act) is heard in conjunction with the rapid movement of heroes through large environments in exciting situations. In examples 164 and 165 a hero flees his enemies in a forest while in example 166 those superwomen of Germanic mythology, the Valkyrie, are to be imagined charging across stormy skies. In example 164 the stormy (stürmisch) string ostinati are later pierced by horn call motifs played on Wagner tubas (really a sort of bass horn), while in example 166 frantic speed may be observed all over the place in the musical score:

In only a few bars, the demoniac flight of the Valkyrie gets under way. Violent trills in the woodwind are set in motion, as if tearing the air apart, by groups of hemi-demi-semiquavers which whip up the gallop… Two trombones and two horns state the theme of the ‘Ride’.

Ex.166. Wagner (1856): Die Walküre – ‘Ride of the Valkyrie’

The similarities between on the one hand our Kojak score (ex.13b; ex.15 b.6-8) with its paramusical fields of association and, on the other hand, these examples (ex. 156-158) from Wagner’s Walküre should be reasonably clear. Kojak is a hero (‘cop’) in his fight against evil (‘robbers’ and other criminals); Siegmund, a Wälsung, is also supposed to be on the side of good, as indeed are the Valkyrie, of which august body Brünnhilde is a member, at least for the time being. Wälsungs and Valkyrie are the story’s executors of justice, the ‘goodies’ fighting ‘baddies’ in the shape of Niedingen and Niebelungen. Both Universal City’s and Wagner’s mythological demi-gods move and act in exciting and dangerous environments; both are brave, active, intelligent and ultimately victorious.

The nervous energy of Lt. Kojak’s New York City environment has already been discussed (§6.2.1 – 6.2.3, p.186 ff.). Similar excitement may be found in Wagner’s dark Teutonic forest in the form of the tremolo motif auf doppelten Saiten (ex.164) and in the heavy, accented cello and bass ostinato filled with minor thirds and sixths (ex.164). In example 166 danger, speed and excitement are depicted in the woodwind trills between the fifth and minor sixth (f#, g) of B minor (ex.166) and in the short, sharp, sudden string figures, one rising in demisemiquavers, the other falling in arpeggiated quintuplets. The call to attention and to action in the fight against evil, conveyed in the Kojak theme by the horns, their archetypal intervals and fanfare motifs, seems to be depicted in Wagner’s Valkyrie in a similar manner: we find brass instruments playing archetypal horn call intervals and figures, surrounded by accompanying motifs expressing, speed, excitement and danger.

This is about as far as we can go in our enumeration of resemblances between the Kojak theme and the Valkyrie. The first important difference to make between examples 15 (Kojak) and 158, especially as it continues into a full-blown statement of the main melody,494 concerns the number of instruments playing the melodic line: the Valkyrie, a group of individuals, are depicted by a number of brass instruments using a sort of responsorial quasi-canon technique whereas Kojak and Siegmund, individuals, are depicted by one melodic line played in unison. This aspect of plurality versus individuality as paramusical field of association requiring different musical treatment is, however, not the only difference between our Wagner examples and that part of the Kojak theme currently under discussion.

In example 164 the mood seems to be threatening and the key of D minor well established. b$ and f are important points in the minor hexachord d-e-f-g-a-b$. The lack of accentuated fifth (a), however, makes for a certain amount of tonal ambiguity (are we perhaps in B$ major?) which becomes even greater in ex.165 when the Wagner tubas start to play their B major fanfare figures although each bar starts with a complete D minor triad. This type of harmonic ambiguity does not occur between the horn part and its accompaniment in the A section of the Kojak theme where the melody is in a consistently consonant relationship to its exciting background. Moreover, the surge of dynamics in ex.164 (fp < fp < fp < , etc.) is totally absent in the Kojak theme, and the pitch at which tremolo and quick ostinati are played in ex.164 (low and middle) and 165 (full range) is quite different to that at which the Moog’s ostinato (m2b) is played in the Kojak main title (higher).

There are paramusical correlates to the structural differences found between the two pieces: whereas Wagner’s music (ex.164, 165) is connected with a chase in stormy weather in a dark forest, the Kojak theme’s A section is accompanied by sunny, shimmering, panoramic shots of Manhattan’s glass, concrete and steel, often with a considerable space of open water in the foreground. This seems to imply that the Kojak theme’s A section has more in common with the shrill woodwind trills (ex.166) of the Valkyrie as they ride across the sky, an observation not without grounds bearing in mind the similarity between this figure and those connected with Loge, the god of fire. However, not only does the musical portrayal of Kojak and his environment differ from that of the Valkyrie in that he is one unison horn part while they are several but also because he is placed in a modern (harmonic language), sunny (Moog ostinato), North American (bass and trombones) environment in which he will either drive or walk (duple or quadruple metre) whereas the Valkyrie gallop (triple metre) across stormy (B minor, semitone trills 5-$6) skies in the musical language of late nineteenth century European art music.

In summarising this short comparison of the main museme stack in the Kojak theme (A section) with paradigmatic phenomena from the instrumental ‘storm and action’ parts of Wagner’s Valkyrie, we could schematise the discussion into sets of (a) common musical and extramusical traits and (b) varying musical and extramusical traits (fig.15).

Fig. 15. Comparison of museme stacks in the Kojak theme and Wagner’s Valkyrie (Overture and Ride)

A. Common musical traits

l Fast pulse

l Tremolo and/or short, quick ostinati

l Melodic line of fanfare character played on brass instrument(s)

B. Common paramusical traits

l Hero(es) in large environment

l Energy, speed, bravery, danger

C. Varying musical traits

Point of

divergence

Kojak Valkyrie

Ex.164 Ex.165 Ex.166

metre 4/4 3/2 3/2 9/8

trill/tremolo pitch high low full middle / high

harmonic rel. melody/accomp. consonant - ambiguous consonant

harmonic idiom, degree of dissonance C20 quartal consonant C19 tertial, ambiguous C19 tertial, ambiguous C19 tertial, consonant

D. Varying paramusical traits

historical epoch of action modern prehistoric/myth prehistoric/myth prehistoric/myth

 

environment, setting for action urban North-American, luminous, subcultural etc. dark Teutonic forest in a storm dark Teutonic forest in a storm stormy skies

 

This comparison should help clarify the affective significance of a number of parameters of musical expression in the A section of the Kojak theme, for by reviewing points of similarity and divergence, in musical as well as paramusical terms, between the pieces, we are able to conclude that the particular paradigmatic combination of musemes employed in the Kojak theme distinguish it on a number of counts from other pieces of music with which it may share certain common extramusical properties (A and B in fig.15), but from which it differs in other ways (C and D in fig.15).

6.4.2 Conclusions

We could also have compared the museme stack under discussion with a number of extracts from other works in the late Romantic vein or from soundtrack scores. However, the amount of interobjective comparison material presented so far in the affect analysis of both individual musematic and compound paradigmatic aspects of the A section of the Kojak theme would at this stage seem sufficient for us to be able to state that we are dealing with something individual and male (a man, for example!) which (who) may be characterised as strong, energetic, virile, heroic, calm, confident, martial, etc. and which (who) is both called and calls to attention and to action upwards and outwards. He is thrown into relief by, stands out against, is a dominant part of and moves in harmony with an environment which may be characterised as modern, full of general, constant, bustling, nervous, luminous, pleasant activity and excitement, nervous, unrestful, energetic and agitated but tinged with a pleasant shimmer in which the somewhat aggressive energy and modernity of a North American metropolis and its subculture may distinguished as an important part.

Before we proceed to a discussion of the visual message accompanying this part of the Kojak theme in order to discern what the affect of music and picture together will be, we should, however, discuss the affective meaning of the contrasting B section which has up to this point been totally avoided.

6.5 The B section

The ‘counter-subject’ or B section of the Kojak theme, consisting of the three identical bars 15-17 (including 15 and excluding into bar 18) has so far been avoided in our analysis because of its highly contrastive character. Not only does it differ from the A section as regards rhythmic metre and periodicity but also in its thematic and harmonic content. Considering that the only audible constants of the whole piece are its basic pulse, instrumentation, dynamics, acoustics, texture and consonant relationship of melody to other parts, we find the main differences between the A and B sections to be even greater than their similarities. The differences may be summarised as follows:

1. The melodic musemes 1a, 1b and 1c are replaced by one single long held c4 with its short upbeat a$4-b$4 (the last two tones of the octave portamento c3-c4 [see §6.2.2, p.191 ff.]). Together we call these two phenomena museme 3a (see fig.14, p.223).

2. The Moog ostinato m2b becomes inaudible.

3. The woodwind punctuations and various accompaniment figures played by strings, xylophone, piano, etc. are replaced by an insistent, repeated rhythmic figure (m3b) which has the additive construction 3/8 + 3/8 + 2/8 + 2/8 = 10/8 = 5/4: .

4. The bass part continues its short but powerful emphasis of tonic root position with syncopated oom-pah figures from the fifth or minor seventh to octave (fig.8, m2e) except that the previously syncopated form m2a has now been replaced by a syncopated 5/4 version (m3d, b.14) and the 3+3+2+2/8 oom-pah figure m3c (b.15-17). Both these figures mark the first beats of the rhythmic groupings in m3b.

5. The slow harmonic rhythm of the A section’s quartal chords are replaced by the quick, oscillating shuttle movement of the two enharmonically opposed tertial sonorities Fmaj7 and A$/3 which are not sustained for more than 1½ beats at a time compared with at least seven beats as minimum duration of a sonority anywhere else in the piece.

6. The amount of distinguishable musical material decreases in the melodic part and increases proportionately in other parts.

What, one may wonder, is the point of such great change for the space of 6½ seconds in a piece lasting less than a minute? We do not intend to discuss the syntagmatic significance of the contrasting B section however until we have attempted to interpret its own inherent affective message irrespective of intramusical context.

6.5.1 Rhythmic (a)symmetry and violence

Additive rhythms are of course common in folk music from the Balkans as well as in certain types of African, Arabic and Indian music. However, they are uncommon in European art music as well as in jazz and rock styles in which they are mainly used as asymmetrical subdivisions of symmetrical metre in periods consisting of regularly recurring groups of 8, 12 or 16 beats. We are not concerned here with typical pop and rock subdivisions as 3+3+2=8 (see §6.1.3.1.) or 3+3+3+3+2+2=16 but with an asymmetrical isometre: 5/4 (10/8), played three times in succession and with the rhythmic subdivisions 3/8+3/8+2/8+2/8=10/8=5/4. Such rhythms are extremely rare in popular music and jazz but do occur in soundtrack music in connection with specific extramusical phenomena to be discussed below. Firstly, we should state that it seems probable that composers of film music have been influence in their use of additive rhythm by its frequent occurrence in twentieth century art music, especially in the works of Bartók and Stravinsky. We shall therefore begin our analysis of affect in this B section by trying to determine the significance of additive rhythms in fast pulse in such music.

In example 167 the chosen maiden in a pagan Russian tribal society is about to be sacrificed. Fast, asymmetrical rhythms in heterometric groupings (despite the repeated pattern shown in example 167) accompany the choreographic representation of this deed which, at least from the modern listener’s point of view, is presumably associated with ideas of unknown and exotic barbarism, violence and threat, i.e. not part of ‘civilised’ behaviour. It should moreover be remembered that similar asymmetrical heterometric passages in fast tempo have occurred earlier in the same work and that these have all been connected with the same act as is connected to ex.167, i.e. ‘The Ritual of Abduction’, ‘The Glorification of the Chosen One’ ‘The Ritual of the Rival Tribes’ and ‘The Dance of the Earth’. These passages may be distinguished both musically and extramusically from the less threatening but nevertheless exotic and exciting ‘Dances of the Young Girls’ (‘Augurs of Spring’) which is also depicted in terms of additive rhythm but in isometric ((4+)5+2+6+3+4(+5+3) quavers) instead of heterometric form, with considerably less atonality and pauses, at a lower pitch, with sparser instrumentation, at a slower pulse and in longer note values than in example 167. Indeed, the observations we made about relative degrees of atonality and jerkiness in connection with the motifs in the A section of the Kojak theme and their tendency to increase the likelihood of conveying an affect of threat and danger would also seem to apply to their use in conjunction with additive rhythm in Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring.

Thus, in example 167 we find not only asymmetrical heterometre but also a desultory chromatic ‘melody’ played sempre forte in parallel dissonances, spasmodically interrupted by semiquaver rests and irregularly repeated dissonant sforzando interjections in most instruments. All this, it would seem, creates considerable tension, unexpectedness, excitement and threat. However, ex.167 is by no means the earliest example of additive rhythm being used in conjunction with excitement, threat, violence and disorder. About example 168 Young (1947: 135-6) writes:

‘Orlando’s mad scene’...[is one of the] ‘most penetrating and awe-inspiring examples of Handel’s capacity for uncovering the raw nerve-centres of mental agony. Sheer despair, haunting and spectral fear, mad desires translate the personality from humanity to bestiality or to primeval chaos’… ‘for the first time in history the time signature 5/8 appears. The catastrophic passage, so frequent in reference and so rare in appearance, stands thus:’

Ex.168. Händel (1733): Orlando – mad scene

We may find another early example of additive rhythm used in conjunction with excitement, violence and unpredictability in Berlioz’ La prise de Troie (ex.169).

Ex.169. Berlioz (1862): La prise de Troie – Le Combat de Ceste (Wrestling Match)

The use of quickly moving asymmetrical isometre in these two examples is not so much a historical oddity as one of musical semiotics. In the Händel example it is clear that the comparative chromaticism of the harmony creates a certain amount of disorder, but in the Berlioz example there is no harmonic disorder whatsoever. The particular fight accompanied by the music of ex.169 is not a particularly threatening one (it is a wrestling match) and it seems possible that this lack of threat is reflected by the use of surprisingly ‘normal’ compositional techniques, such as standard tertial ‘functional’ harmony without chromaticism, standard periodicity (four isorhythmic bars ending with modulated cadence in the dominant key and returning to the tonic after four more bars), standard harmonic rhythm (one or two changes per bar), standard diatonic melodic material and standard isorhythmic sequential structure of the extract as a whole. However, the use of 5/8 metre, an extreme rarity in European art music before the twentieth century, must be considered as giving the music a certain degree of hurried unpredictability which would hardly come across in the more usual metre of 6/8 (ex.170):

Ex.170. (HS) Berlioz’ ‘Le combat de Ceste’ in 6/8 ®

 

 

These observations should not, however, be taken as evidence that ‘fight music’ is necessarily or automatically depicted in music by means of additive rhythm. Indeed, we should make a clear distinction between, on the one hand, symmetrical portrayals of disciplined and organised battles of the parade ground type, often used to depict ‘good old’ warfare of the pre-trench days (obviously a gross falsification of affect from the common soldier’s point of view) and, on the other hand, portrayals of guerilla warfare, gang fights, individual punch-ups, etc., where the fear, danger, threat and horror of those involved in the violence seems to be more important than the glorification of violence in its officially approved and ordered parade ground form. We may cite Fray Antonio Martin y Coll’s Battaila de 5. Tono, Byrd’s The Battle, Monteverdi’s Combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda, Kauer’s Sonata militare and Beethoven’s Wellington’s Sieg oder die Schlacht bei Vittoria as examples of disciplined symmetry and martial order in the European art music tradition. Musical notions of ordered slaughter, complete with self-contained march, fanfare or gallop compositions, are also found in film scores, for example in connection with battle scenes in films such as They Died With Their Boots On (Steiner, 1942) or Henry V (Walton, 1944).

It is interesting to compare the regular four or two beats to the bar, the four bars to the period and the relative heroic consonance of the ‘ordered battle’ music referred to above with the rhythmic structures and spasmodic use of rests heard in connection with an equally violent but not officially approved règlement de comptes between Riff and Bernardo in West Side Story.

Ex.171. L Bernstein: West Side Story – ‘The Rumble’

 

A similar fight to that portrayed in ex.171 is found in Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess. Crown (the bullying villain) has just said:

“You lousy hound. Hen’ me that brick behind you”.

The crowd comment:

‘Someone’s gonna git hurt’, ‘looks like a real fight’, ‘he will surely kill dat man’…

The Allegro agitato (e =144) is then modified by the instruction un poco più mosso as the stage direction states:

‘Robbins starts for Crown who grabs him and throws him down. Shutters of windows open, shafts of light flash across stage. Crown and Robbins revealed facing each other. Crown jerks out his cotton hook.’

The music at this point is:

Ex.172. Gershwin (1935): Porgy and Bess – Fight

An analysis of agogic accents in addition to those marked by Gershwin himself reveals the rhythmic structure shown in figure 16:

Fig. 16. ® Polyrhythmic structure of the fight in Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess (figures denote number of semiquavers in each rhythmic grouping in the four parts shown in ex.172) ®

Compared with the Stravinsky, Bernstein and Gershwin examples, the rhythmic structure of bars 15-17 in the Kojak theme seems simple. Moreover the B section we are now analysing may be considered more easily ‘digestible’ than examples 159, 163 and 164 above since it is played identically three times in succession by all accompanying instruments without polyrhythmic opposition and because it is devoid not only of pregnant silences of unpredictable duration (e.g. ex.163) but also of threatening atonality, emphasised semitone clashes, sudden accents and sforzandi. The additive rhythm in the Kojak theme may therefore be compared to the type of fight scenes from the films Robin Hood (Korngold 1938) and How the West was Won (Newman 1963) or to ‘The Augurs of Spring’ from Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring (1913: 12 ff.) or even to the Berliozian wrestling match cited above (ex.161). These are all situations in which a certain amount of unpredictable danger, excitement and disorder may appear on the screen or stage but where such danger, excitement and disorder never reach extreme degrees of threat, bestial violence and terror. This affect of ‘tempered’ unpredictability and threat in the Kojak theme seems to have been brought about by the sudden use of additive rhythm and new harmonies without going to the extremes of heterometre and atonality found in examples 159, 163 and 164.

However, the harmonic language of the B section in the Kojak theme does differ considerably from that of the rest of the piece, making bars 15-17 new, unexpected and exciting in their context. Moreover, the two chords of the B section (Fmaj7 and A$/3) only share one note (c) in common while two other notes in the first chord (e$ and a$) are in chromatic opposition to their neighbouring notes in the second chord (e$[d#l and a$[g#]), this enharmonic polarity being marked by all instruments playing museme 3b. The validity of this observation, claiming that tension will increase in proportion to the degree of chromaticism found between two repeated consecutive (shuttle) chords, can be substantiated if the reader will imagine an alteration of the original shuttle harmonies (Fmaj7 « A$/3) to other chordal oscillations such as Fmaj7 « Cmaj7, Cm11 « Gm11, Fm7 « B$9, etc. These more ‘expected’ continuations of the A section would cause less surprise than the original pair of shuttle chords.

It should, however, be underlined that the mere presence of new and faster harmonies and additive rhythm are in themselves no guarantee for the communication of novelty, unexpectedness, etc., for despite similarities of harmonic colouring, irregular reiteration patterns and quintuple metre we could not compare the Kojak theme’s B section with the theme tune from the film Un homme et une femme because of vast differences in tempo, phrasing, dynamics and orchestration.

Ex.173. F Lai (1966): Un homme et une femme – main title

Such a tempo applied to the Kojak theme, together with unsuitable phrasing, dynamics and orchestration might be a novelty in its context after the A section but could hardly be expected to convey the same amount of unpredictable excitement as the original. This should be clear from the following hypothetical substitution.

Ex.174. Kojak (at q = 72) as Un homme et une femme

6.5.2 Teleprinter urgency in music

Rather than continuing to discuss the B section of the Kojak theme in relation to additive and heterometric disorder we will now consider the relation of the 5/4 rhythm and the Fmaj7 « A$/3 shuttle harmonies to the sort of morse code or teleprinter motifs in brisk tempo to be found in other signatures, such as the title melody to Shaft (Hayes, 1971) or the signature tunes for BBC TV’s Sportsnight (Hatch, 1974) and SR TV’s Aktuellt news programme.

Ex.175. Hayes (1971): Theme from Shaft

Ex.176. Hatch (1974): Theme from Sportsnight

Ex.177. Signature to SR/TV news broadcast Aktuellt510

It may be possible to interpret these semiquaver figures as programmatic or onomatopoeic stylisations of the noises emitted by tapping teleprinters or telegraph operators, at least when they are used in news signatures such as Sportnytt (SR/TV uses this passage from Shaft), Sportsnight, Aktuellt, TV-Nytt and Kvällsöppet or in conjunction with telegrammatic situations such as in the words of Telegram or The Wichita Lineman (Campbell, 1968), but it is very unlikely that the teleprinter rhythms of bars 15-17 in the Kojak theme should be interpreted at this level. On the other hand, it is conceivable that morse signal and teleprinter rhythms may have undergone a transfer of meaning through their constant use in situations of urgency (i.e. news signatures, important news items over the teleprinter as busy editors prepare the morning paper, or as football results are shown to presumptive pools millionaires on BBC’s Grandstand) so that this general feeling and atmosphere of ‘important announcement’ and ‘urgent message’ will be the affective content of such musemes rather than the sonic object itself or the cognitive message being transmitted via the object. In other words it is neither the actual telegraphing nor teleprinting that is represented in or transmitted via the music but the mood of urgency and importance connected with transmitting and receiving telegraphed or teleprinted messages. This theory may be demonstrated by citing the important love message in The Supremes’ You Just Keep Me Hanging On (1966, ex.178) in which a quickly reiterated syncopated tonic g played in octaves on electric guitar introduces every A section of this song in AABA form:

[Gm] Set me free, why [F] don't you babe,

[Dm7] Get out of my life why [E$] don't you babe,

[Gm] You really don't [F] love me (now)

You just [Dm7] keep me hanging [E$] on.

Ex.178. Supremes (1966) / Vanilla Fudge (1967): You Just Keep Me Hanging On – Urgency motif

Let us now summarise those musical and extramusical designates we have found in our interobjective comparative material. We have found additive rhythm in fast tempo occurring in conjunction with such affective experiences as unpredictability, threat, danger, excitement, activity and urgency. We have also seen insistent asymmetric rhythms in regular metre used in connection with sports programmes (ex.167-168), news programmes and the habitual aura of phrenetic involvement and stress which seems to exude from commentators, reporters, news readers, etc. We have not been able to establish the existence of any extreme threat or violence in the music we are analysing due to its lack of atonality, desultory rests and sforzandi. However, the unpredictability, threat, excitement and activity which we have assumed to be the general affective message of musemes 3b and 3c are only half of the total picture, since we have yet to discuss the ‘meaning’ of the horn part in bars 15-17 (m3a) and the syntagmatic context of the section coming as a sequel to the A section to which the listener will presumably refer, perceiving B as a continuation of processes initiated in A.

6.5.3 The syntagmatic significance of the B section

We do not intend to go into detail here about either the syntagmatic significance of individual phrases in or the total processual character of the Kojak theme’s A section. However, certain general observations regarding the syntagmatic significance of the B section must be made at this point in order to be more precise about its affective meaning.

The horn museme m3a bears a certain resemblance to the initial horn call 1a2 and the final horn calls (m1a1(b)) in that these motifs also rise to a long held c. However, in museme 3a the characteristic horn signal, consisting of an octave ‘whoop’ gliding over the natural harmonics, has been replaced by a short semiquaver figure. The ‘post haste’ and ‘hunting’ past of action associations in musemes 1a2 and 1a1(e), their fanfarish quality of calling to attention, etc. seem to disappear in their transformation into m3a and its absence of octave whoop. Moreover, the rhythmic motive density of accompanying parts has become far greater in proportion to that of the horn part in the B section if we compare this to the proportions found not only in bars 6-14 (full statement of melody in horn part) but also in the opening five bars of the piece. In other words, what we previously described as general characteristics of melody in relation to accompaniment (see §6.2, p.185 ff.) cannot be applied to the horn part’s relation to other parts in bars 15-17, since in the B section the melodic status of the horn part is by no means as unambiguous as in bars 6-14. One might even venture to say that the horn part had to a certain extent relinquished its melodic profile to the advantage of the accompanying parts and their insistent, urgent unpredictability.

Another point which emphasises the importance and affective divergence of the B section is the general process of rising tension created by: (1) the rise of underlying harmony from c to e$ to f (a processual unit of three components); (2) the rise of mean pitch in melodic phrases from g to b$ to c; (3)the rise in the rate of harmonic change from 42 beats on C to 13 beats on E$ to 1½ beats F and A$; and (4) the rise in rhythmic density of accompanying parts. All these directional processes reach their climax at the start of bar 15 at which point they converge, highlighting the B section as new and important. If bars 15-17 had been the sequel to other musical processes, for example the result of a general detraction from tense hyper-atonality and spasmodic polyrhythmic chaos, they would of course be perceived as a period of comparative relaxation in the music. This is, however, not the case and they will be considered as the paint of greatest tension in the music so far, a sort of crisis section in which the periodicity, rate of harmonic change, type of metre, type of harmonic language and relationship of melody to accompaniment established in the A section are questioned, if not rejected. The B section in the Kojak theme is, in other words, the part of the piece where the tables are turned; it is in opposition to the rest of the piece for these reasons and stands out in contrast.

These summarily discussed syntagmatic aspects of the B section should therefore lead us to conclude that the affective meaning we have found in its individual musemes will tend to be emphasised; it will stand out not only as musically divergent but also be thrown into a sort of affective relief. This should be clear if the reader will imagine bars 1-(13)14 of the Kojak theme leading into one of the following hypothetical substitutions for the B section.

Ex.179. (HS) Kojak theme: continuation of A section processes into B

Ex.180. (HS) Kojak theme, B section: 4/4 metre replaces 5/4.

Ex.181. (HS) Kojak theme, B section, accompaniment only: (a) Fm11 replaces Fmaj7 « A$/3;

(b) Fm11 « Cm11 replaces Fmaj7 « A$/3

Example 171a is a mere continuation of the processes found in the A section and does not present any new material apart from a continued rise of melodic and harmonic pitch: the two-step processes (harmony C-E$-F, mean melodic pitch g-b$-c) are still leading somewhere which has yet to be reached. Example 171b changes the type of sonority in the same way as the original version, but remains in 4/4 metre, thereby cutting out one important aspect of surprise and unpredictability: the heterometric isometre 3/8+3/8+2/8-+2/8=10/8=5/4. Example 171c and ex.171d both retain the additive rhythm of the original but simultaneously preserve the harmonic language of the A section. In these last two cases the novelty of sonority (from quartal to tertial/chromatic) is lost as is the chromatic tension of the Fmaj7 « A$/3 shuttle. These substitutions and many other possible alterations (e.g. lowering of dynamics, subdivision of 5/4 metre into crochet and quaver figures instead of quaver and semiquaver, only Fmaj7 without oscillation to and from A$, etc.) would all have decreased the tension, urgency and excitement to varying extents. However, it should be clear that the tension, urgency and excitement of the B section cannot be hypothetically increased to disproportionate heights of threat, terror and violence as in example 172 without radically changing the type of excitement being conveyed in the original version.

Ex.182. (HS) Kojak B section as asymmetrical and atonal terror

Despite the comparative excitement of the B section, the horn part stays in a consonant relationship to its sonic environment, the harmonies can in themselves be in no way regarded as atonal or dissonant and the rhythmic figures are at least isometric. We could say that despite changes along the majority of parameters of musical expression in the process from the A into the B section, such changes are tempered to a certain degree. Despite the ‘turning of tables’ mentioned above regarding harmonic, periodic, metrical and rhythmic aspects and the relative thematic/melodic dominance of horn part to other parts, there does not seem to be any violent threat in the B section to the norms and processes of the A section.

We may therefore conclude that the basic significance of the B section is to provide affective opposition to the 'A' section. The B section expresses greater unrest and unpredictability than the A section, environment dominates figure and a general mood of danger, excitement, activity and urgency is conveyed, though not to the extent of terror, ominous threat and horror.

Ex.143. Chords of the eleventh

main relationship

 

 

 

melody

 

accompaniment

 

other

parts

 

bass

R1

R2

R3

R4

Type of relation

Melody

Other parts

Accompaniment

Type of relation

Bass

(type of relation)

 

(type of relation)

 

Ex.167. Stravinsky (1913): Rite of Spring – Sacrificial Dance

 

 

1.

AO

IMC

7 Visual analysis

So far our analysis has been restricted to the affective meaning of individual items of musical code (IMCs). We have presented these musemes, found in the analysis object (AO), and compared them to IMCs in other pieces of music (the interobjective comparison material or IOCM). This process establishes intermusematic correspondence, and corresponds to the relationship schematised between boxes 1 and 2 in figure 17, below. After the establishment of intermusematic correspondence between the IMCs of the AO and those of the IOCM we have sought to find common denominators among the paramusical connotations of the IOCM (boxes 2 and 3 in figure 17). If there is a correspondence [1] between the IMCs of the AO and those of the IOCM, and [2] between the IMCs of the IOCM and the PMCs of the IOCM, then, we argue, there is correspondence [3] between the IMCs of the AO and the PMCs of the IOCM.

Fig. 17 Relationship of items of musical code (IMC) in the analysis object (AO) to the paramusical connotations (PMC) of the interobjective comparison (IOCM).

To put it tersely, the argument is: if 1 is demonstrably related to 2 and 2 to 3, then 1 is also related to 3.

When a sufficient degree of precision in verbal description of affect has been arrived at we have, where necessary, tried to falsify our findings by means of hypothetical substitution, changing certain parameters of musical expression in the IMCs of the AO in order to see if they were determinants of the correspondence between the IMCs of the AO and those of the IOCM (between 1 and 2, fig.17).

However, we have yet to discus PMCs directly related to the AO itself, preferring to leave this part of the study until a sufficient degree of correspondence had been established between the IMCs of the AO and the PMCs of the IOCM (between 1 and 3 in figure 17). The reason for postponing the analysis of visual and other paramusical aspects of the Kojak theme until this stage is to ascertain whether the correspondence we have sought to establish between the IMCs of the AO and the PMCs of the IOCM shows any congruence to the relationship between the IMCs of the AO and the PMCs of the AO (i.e. the relationship between the codal archetypes of visual and musical message in the title sequences to Kojak). If congruence between the relationships AO/IMC « IOCM/PMC and AO/IMC « AO/PMC (1«3, l«4, as in figure 18, p.242) is found to exist, and if similarities between the PMCs of the IOCM and those of the AO are in evidence (between 3 and 4 in figure 18) then, we argue, the contended relationship between the IMCs of the AO (1) and the PMCs of the IOCM (3) will have been substantiated. If on the other hand the relationships 1 to 4 and 3 to 4 show no congruence with the relationship 1 to 3, then either our postulations about the affective meaning of IMCs in the AO are questionable, or the relationship between the IMCs of the AO and its PMCs diverges in some aspects from the norm.

Fig. 18. Relationships between (1) items of musical code in the analysis object and (2) items of musical code in the interobjective comparison material (3) paramusical connotations of the interobjective comparison material and (4) paramusical connotations of the analysis object. [AO=Analysis Object, IMC=Item of musical code, IOCM=Interobjective Comparison Material, PMC=Paramusical connotation].

So far we have established correspondence between 1 and 2 and between 2 and 3 (figure 18). We have then presumed that there is also correspondence between 1 and 3. The final box in this quartet of aspects to be studied (working clockwise) contains the PMCs of the Kojak theme itself. When these have been described in detail we shall not only be able to see whether the three-way correspondence 1 « 2, 2 « 3, 1 « 3 holds good, but also the three other reciprocal relationships l « 4, 2 « 4, 3 « 4. This means that there should, in theory be the following six reciprocal relationships:

1. between the IMCs of the AO and those of the IOCM.

2. between the IMCs of the IOCM and its PMCs, ergo

3. between the IMCs of the AO and the PMCs of the IOCM.

4. between the IMCs of the AO and its own PMCs.

5. between the PMCs of the IOCM and those of the AO.

6. between the IMCs of the IOCM and the PMCs of the AO.

In chapters 7 and 8 we shall be discussing the paramusical connotations of the Kojak theme. However, before we actually discuss the visual message we should make a brief presentation of our procedure.

7.1 Procedure

We have already described our video recording procedure (§5.4.1, 5.4.4.) and mentioned that the title sequences were photographed at approximately 1½ second intervals to facilitate analysis. These stills have been reproduced in this publication, as thirty thumbnail images in the final transcript of the Kojak theme (example 19, p.140-142). Reference to this pictorial material in this thesis will be as follows:

ccr.9 = contact copy reproduction, no.9. (small)

 

It is suggested that readers familiarise themselves with this pictorial material before continuing.

As previously stated (§5.4.1), the analytical procedure used in connection with visual message is not so detailed as that used in the interpretation of musical meaning, this being an interdisciplinary study with a musicological bias, not a thesis on the visual arts (see §4.2.2.). However, we have used a type of interobjective comparative procedure not dissimilar to that already employed in the musical analysis above. This means that we have looked for similarities (and differences) to visual elements in the title sequences of the AO in other visual works, such as film, painting and sculpture. We have then discussed whether these elements of comparison own particular symbolic properties, whether they are in any way archetypal for particular societal or affective situations, whether they represent any particular type of personality, atmosphere, environment, experience, etc. We have then assumed there to be a degree of correspondence between the visual element under discussion in the AO and the symbolism of the archetype in the comparative visual material. A group of experts has not been used in this procedure but the author has, in addition to his own associations (mostly to films and television programmes), been furnished with a large number of apt references to relevant visual archetypes in the history of western art by Dr. G Cavallius, lecturer in History of Art at the University of Göteborg.

After studying the actual video recording of the title sequences to Kojak it was found that the total visual process could be divided into seven main sections which we shall call ‘Visual Sequences’ (VS). These sequences (VS), whose duration can be delimited by obvious changes in setting, camera angle, lighting, masking pattern (sweep-in), type of action, etc., were soon found to coincide with obvious divisions in the musical process (change of material, recapitulation of preceding material, etc.), an observation illustrated in the following table (fig.19).

Fig. 19. Table showing correspondence of duration between MP (musical phrase) and VS (visual sequence.) in Kojak (main title).

MP no. MP Duration

(seconds) Duration

(seconds)a VS VS No.

start end start end

(beat no.) (beat no.)b

1 1 18 8.0 8.0 1 18 1

2 18c 29 5.4 5.4 19 30 2

3 30 42 5.4 5.4 31 42 3

4 43 54 5.8 5.8 43 55 4

5 55 70 6.7 6.7 56 70 5a

6 71 77 3.1 3.1 71 77 5b

7 78 86 3.6d 6.3d 78 92d 6a

8 85d 100 6.3 3.6 93d 100 6b

9 101 112 5.4 5.4 101 112e 7

 

In analysing the visual message accompanying the Kojak theme we shall discuss the visual sequences one by one in accordance with durations shown in figure 19. However, before the titles actually started on the viewing occasion we have video-taped, the Swedish TV audience was able to see their Saturday evening host on channel 1, Arne Weise, sitting at a comfortable conversation distance across the imaginary extension of their living-room coffee table into the TV-studio. With a vase of flowers and a curtain (and the TV audience) as his only visible company, visible from the knees upwards and seated comfortably in an armchair, Weise made clear that he also intended to take part in the audience’s viewing activities by announcing:

‘Here on channel one it’s time for rough stuff with bad guys in New York’s concrete jungle. Here he is again — Kojak!’

7.2 Visual sequences

7.2.1 Visual sequence no.1

[ccr.1-5, MP1, b.1-4, bt.1-18, 8.0"]

All of a sudden the relaxed level of dynamics in the announcer’s patter and the comfortable conversation distance over the imaginary extension of the coffee table are not only transformed by the loud octave whoop (reveille), the jerky bass and the vibrant semiquavers at q = 134, but also broken by a total blackout on the TV screen (ccr.1). This black-out is wiped clean at a rapid pace (about 6") to reveal an extreme close-up of Kojak’s head, shot in profile from the right. The change in distance between viewer and viewed from ccr.0 to ccr.2-5 is as striking as the change in sound volume. Kojak is almost uncomfortably close, at the sort of distance most Westerners find themselves when kissing, embracing or whispering. Kojak, filmed from an angle slightly below his eye level (we look up to him via the camera), has a stern, severe expression on his face. He glances downwards, slightly to the right. A light emanating from the right of the picture, possibly from a window, exaggerates the contours of Kojak’s profile, casting strong shadows on the subject and creating a considerable silhouette effect with connotations of mystery, intangibility and inaccessibility. This effect is similar to that created by spotlighting a light coloured stone or marble sculpture from one side. This is a picture of an introverted man: he is not involved in conversation or physical action; he is thinking. We see his profile ‘through a glass darkly’, by intimation and innuendo. What is he thinking? What does he look like head-on in daylight? Viewers may pose such questions because we are shown only part of the subject’s appearance and character, and even then only by insinuation. This makes the profile interesting, demanding further revelation. As mentioned above, the camera (us) seems to be placed slightly lower than Kojak’s face which means that we, through the camera, must look up at and look up to him both literally and metaphorically.

One of the most obvious peculiarities in the appearance of the character presented in the opening sequences is that he is bald. This feature can lead to a large number of affective associations, especially to archetypes well-entrenched in the visual traditions of western culture. We are referring here to the traditional appearance of the executioner, inevitably bare-headed and bald, hooded or both, to malicious hairless devils in the paintings of Hieronymous Bosch, to the serpent in the Garden of Eden, to dragons with bald human heads, to Turkish wrestlers, to characters in Bond films, such as Oddjob and Goldfinger in Goldfinger; we are also referring to figures such as Bleakly in The Ipcress File, Lothar in the strip cartoon series Mandrake, not to mention other mass-media demi-gods who inevitably appear either hooded or hairless in the world of comic strips, such as Adam Strange, Fire Boy, Dragos, Batman, etc. We could also associate to the xenophobic archetypes of awesome Orientals, such as the traditionally bald Gengis Khan, the implacably brutal Japanese as portrayed in western war films such as Camp on Blood Island and the ‘yellow peril’ stereotypes as symbolised by Fu Man Chu.

The exaggerated silhouetting and shading of this bald-headed profiles emphasising certain features and concealing others, might also be compared to the simplified, stylised type of head profile portraits minted on coins and medals. Most individuals whose images appear in this form enjoy a position of power in their contemporary society. Similar portrayal of ‘strong men’ were also used in Renaissance paintings and sculptures of the condottieri. These hairless, helmeted gentlemen usually depicted on horseback (once again the viewer must look up), were employed by the monarchs of mini-states to command their private armies of mercenaries. The condottieri were renown for their brute force and severity.

All the bald-headed, helmeted, hooded or hairless archetypes mentioned so far share a common denominator of brute force amongst their personal characteristics. The majority of these personalities are moreover associated with some kind of threat: devils, dragons and the serpent may not always be physically strong, it is true, but they are brainy, wiley figures, not to be trusted any more than the super-intelligent but physically feeble sick science fiction ‘egghead’. However, Kojak’s muscular, masculine physiognomy seems to rule out the probability of associating in this sort of direction. His broad shoulders and neck place him in the brute force rather than evil egghead category of bald-headed archetypes. His physical features have more in common with the bald bull’s head (bull-headed = headstrong) of the Cretan minotaur, with the broad-shouldered baldness of oriental wrestlers or medieval executioners.

This does not mean to say that all strong, bald characters in the visual tradition of the West have to be threatening villains. We have already mentioned Adam Strange, Batman and Dragos as hairless heroes of great strength and honour. We could enlarge this list of the bald but bold and brave by citing the popularity of Yul Brinner as the hero of The King and I and The Magnificent Seven, also mentioning the rugged features of workers in helmets painted by Ben Shahn. However, the ‘hairless hero’ of mass media would seem to be a relatively recent phenomenon, perhaps to be considered as part of the wave of anti-hero archetypes to be found on US television, at least since the nineteen sixties. We are referring here to detectives with typically anti-heroic traits, such as Columbo (who neither dresses, fights nor drives according to traditional Hollywood hero norms), to Cannon (far too obese to look traditionally heroic) and to Ironside (confined to a wheel-chair). Nevertheless, the male heroic archetype is still normally depicted as a strong young man with physical features answering to current norms of masculine beauty and with a healthy head of (not too long) hair as part of these norms (e.g. Andros, McCloud, Baretta, Bond, Rockford, the young partner in the series Switch, etc.).

Another important aspect of baldness is its sexuality. Now, although in certain situations it might be considered the height of asceticism to shave one’s head (for example in certain monasterial orders) and although certain societies may consider baldness to be almost equatable with loss of virility and male sexual attraction (for example Samson and Job), there are obvious visual similarities between the appearance of shiny, hairless skin stretched tight around the cranium and shiny hairless skin stretched around the top of a fully erect penis. This association may seem far-fetched to some, obvious to others; nonetheless the association does nothing more than underline those aspects of hard virility we have already mentioned, especially considering the possible allusions to sexual aspects of the name Kojak (cock, Jack, etc.) and the intentions of the script-writers who wanted a ‘hard-sounding’ name.

However, it is clear from the outset that Kojak is not only to be viewed as a raw, virile executioner or wrestler full of brute force. This modification of affective message seems to be provided mainly by the music, a point to be discussed further on. It is also possible that a slight modification of the raw, hard, bald-headed, brutal archetype in the visual process as well is partly brought about by the mysterious silhouette effect, partly by the superimposed ‘sweep-in’ form whose movement has unveiled the Kojak profile for the eyes of all to see (as in the unveiling of statues).

The sweep-in pattern starts in the right top corner of the screen and continues round its perimeter anti-clockwise tracing a sort of rectangular spiral strip of constant width. The centre of this rectangular spiral then pinpoints a space just below Kojak’s right eye. In other words, the pattern circles around and then pinpoints the centre of the centre of the picture: Kojak. Why this quadratically spiral sweep-in pattern? Is it just a video gimmick? Are the viewer’s eyes being directed from outside the screen on to the outside of the screen and thence around and finally into the central reference point of the picture, the title sequences the episode and the whole series: i.e. Kojak himself, his eye, his thoughts, his Weltanschauung?

Is supposed to resemble ancient Greek meander patterns like , bringing about a sort of classical, heroic feeling of respect? Another possible interpretation of the rectangular spiral might be to equate it with a quadratic version of the kind of target form visible in the telescopic sight of a shotgun or camera; i.e. forms such as ³ stylised into . This interpretation would also lead the viewer’s eye [N] to aim at the central point, the ‘eye of the storm’, the ‘focal point’, the ‘heart’ of the picture and series. Simultaneously, this association could lend some excitement to the sequence through connotations of targets, shotguns, telescopic sights and lenses and the situations of danger in which such equipment is used.

Other interpretations of the sweep-in pattern might make the viewer see Kojak ‘behind bars’ – t –, caught in the spider’s web – "– of New York’s underworld, etc. One might also find some sort of connection between the rectangular character of New York’s skyscrapers and its grid of streets, or even read into this rectangularity associated moods of implacable, foursquare, sharp (without rounded lines) metropolitan modernity.

However, the most likely areas of symbolism in connection with the sweep-in pattern in VS1 seem to be those touching on elements of mystification and those underlining the centripetal, concentric movement towards the focal point of the picture, the sequence and the series: Kojak. Dealing first with the former of these two areas of symbolism, it is possible to compare the sweep-in pattern to an extremely stylised maze or labyrinth symbol (the Minotaur again), or to the problematic nature of the thoughts puzzling Kojak in this sequence. Indeed, one might even suggest that the convolutions of his thought (metaphorical stylisation) also become the volutions of the brain surface (physical stylisation) which in turn make the rectangular spiral the sweep-in pattern of the title sequences which most of all resembles a piece of jig-saw puzzle or at least the type of complicated (spiral) but ordered (rectangular) thought which will solve the puzzle (of crime in the subsequent story). This type of association seems also to be plausible because is the most complex abstract geometrical pattern to be superimposed during the title sequences, Moreover the notion that a signature should be a sort of affective quintessence of subsequent moods, personalities, environments and actions (see §4.1.4 on the ‘preparatory’ function of title music) seems to underline the idea that a complex of initial problems must exist in some form at the outset of the title sequences in order to present something that requires a continuation in the form of a solution. This reflects the order of events in the ensuing plot formula. Kojak’s half smile in the final VS (has he found a solution to the problems troubling him in VS1?) seems to emphasise the question mark function of the rectangular spiral. Indeed, one interpretation of the form is to see it as a quadratic sort of question mark — . All these different ‘problem solving’ (maze, puzzle, meander, volution, question marks) associations can be further identified with the physiognomy of Kojak’s head, making the ‘problem solving’ synonymous with its shape and appearance.

becomes , so to speak.

The Kojak profile is thus mystified, it seems, not only by the strong silhouette effect mentioned before but also by the superimposition of the sweep-in pattern and all its possible symbolical associations. Moreover, the quadratic movement circling round and then pinpointing Kojak’s eye may also be compared to a sort of stereotyped, stylised eye of the sort used in logotypes — N. Such an eye could possibly have the function of leading the viewer’s eye on to the stylised eye on the screen, thence round and into Kojak’s eye through which the television audience will thereafter be viewing criminality, law enforcement, happiness, sadness, social and economic injustice and several other aspects of life facing the inhabitants of New York City, bankrupt and beset with all the imaginable problems of economic recession in the capitalist economy of the nineteen seventies.

When the sweep-in has been accomplished, Kojak moves his head slightly towards the camera, not to look at us (the camera) as Weise had done six seconds earlier, but to glance sternly, introvertly down towards the lower middle to lower right rim of the TV screen. This apparent lack of interest in the audience (the camera) seems to put an even greater distance between viewer and viewed and no exchange of looks takes place. Kojak is observed; the audience is not observed. Moreover, we are still looking ‘up’ to Kojak through the eye of the camera, this enhancing his aura of superiority. All possibilities of imagined two-way visual communication between Kojak and the audience are removed when the sequence is frozen, just before the theoretical point at which eye contact could have taken place.

The frozen portrait is quickly zoomed out (ccr. 5-6), but not to become the centre of the environment in which he was previously situated; instead the portrait is now the size of the central square in the first sweep-in form and is placed identically dead centre of the screen which has now otherwise reverted to its original state of black-out. As the Kojak portrait is zoomed out in this way, its size and clarity diminishing rapidly, it seems as though Kojak is being withdrawn from the viewer. What will happen now? We intend to answer this question in our description of VS2, but it is nevertheless an important question to ask, for, as we have seen, VS1 poses a number of vital questions, such as: who is this man? What does he look like face to face in daylight without patterns or dark shadow obscuring the view? Is he an executioner or threatening brute? In fact, asking questions seems to be one of the most important functions of VS1.

The music for VS1 (MP1) consists of three important musemes: m1a2 (the octave whoop), m2b1 (the Moog ostinato) and m1b4 + m2a1a (bass). These IMCs have been individually interpreted as (i) call to action and attention: strong movement upwards and outwards, virile, energetic, heroic; (ii) general, constant, bustling activity: agitated and insistent but positive, pleasant, vibrant, shimmering and luminous; (iii) unquiet, aggressiveness, atmosphere of large American city: energetic, threatening excitement, subculture. Having added the atmosphere of ‘modernity’ (harmonic language) to this picture, let us compare the individual IMCs of MP1 with the visual message of VS1 as described above.

It should be clear that there are both correspondences and contradictions between the musical and visual messages of VS and MP. They share the following aspects in common:

1. Something new demanding attention.

2. Strong, vigorous, energetic pace.

3. Virility.

4. Possible threat, the unknown, the ambiguity of Kojak’s personality, the ambiguity of whether horn or bass is melody (figure / individual).

On the other hand we may list the following contradictions:

Fig. 20. Points of affective divergence

MP1 VS1

ambiguity melody/accompaniment individual dominates environment, figure > ground

shimmering, vibrant, luminous activity dark room, shadows, mystery

heroic horn call, consonant tonal language mysterious silhouette figure: is he a threatening executioner of the brute-force type?

 

If we use Osgood’s general division of adjectival value judgements into the categories evaluation, potency and activity (Osgood et al., 1975: 48, 57-67, 111, ff.) on the similarities and differences of affective meaning presented above we find that there is correspondence between the musical and visual messages of MP1/VS1 as far as degrees of potency and activity’ are concerned but that there is a surprisingly large amount of discrepancy regarding evaluation, that is whether the messages being transmitted are ‘negative’ (dark room, shadows, mystery, possibility of brute-force-executioner-baldness) or ‘positive’ (heroic, light, luminous, modern, consonant, etc.). These contradictions between sound and vision pose yet another problem in addition to the uniquely visual and musical ambiguities mentioned above. The generally ambiguous ‘question mark’ function of these first few seconds seems to be underlined once again. Let us now proceed to determine whether subsequent presentation of musical and visual material can resolve any of these problems and clarify any of these ambiguities.

7.2.2 Visual sequence no.2

[ccr.6-8, MP2, b.6-87 bt.18-30 5.4"]

In VS1 we saw Kojak in a dark room in some undefined locality. He was ruminating over some problem, glancing sternly downwards screen right as a bright light shone from what could have been a window to his left. This ‘window’ and the light outside it together with the man and his thoughts inside the room now become part of a new, much larger environment. It is obviously impossible to pick out the particular window from VS1 from the multitude of windows in the postcard panorama of downtown Manhattan now revealed on screen. However, the total frame of VS1 is now visible as a little ‘window’ in both the middle of the new environment and of the TV screen. The little ‘window’ has become the focal point of the second sweep-in which repeats the form and movement of VS1 at a similar pace. The rectangular spiral, target sight, labyrinth, question mark, brain volutions, pieces of jig-saw, stereotyped eye (or however the reader wishes to refer to the sweep-in pattern) now reveals an aerial view of what appears to be lower East Side — a small section of New York harbour in the foreground and skyscrapers in the middle distance, all bathing in sunlight. The pattern circles the centre picture (the ‘window’ frame with Kojak inside) and pinpoints the hub of this action and movement: Kojak. We see tall buildings reaching towards the sky in straight lines, symbolising height, power and energy. High buildings cramped together in this way is also a sign of high density of population, and may be associated with bustling activity and business. In addition to the musical material accompanying VS1 (MP1) we may now add musemes 1b1 and 1cl(a). These two musemes have been described as: undulating, swaying movement, calm and confident, leading into strength, breadth, boldness and confidence, something individual, masculine, martial and heroic.

1. Once again we may speak of contradictions and correspondences between visual and musical message in this VS. The main correspondences appear to be: strong; vigorous; energetic pace (as in VS1)

2. Virility (as in VS1)

3. Vibrant luminosity with possible concomitants of bustling activity.

4. Modern North American metropolis.

5. Less ambiguous relationship between figure and ground in visual message; totally unambiguous relationship between melody and accompaniment (individual and environment) in musical message.

The main discrepancies appear to be: (figure 21)

Fig. 21. Discrepancies between affective messages of VS2 and MP2

MP2 VS2

clearly positive, virile, heroic melody Is this bald man a threat? An executioner? A brute?

the horn part is energetic, broad, bold, martial, strong, confident Kojak is motionless

m2b is luminous and positive, but the bass is unrestful, desultory, maybe aggressive New York in sunshine: only a few shadows

 

In other words, correspondence between visual and musical message in VS2/MP2 is greater than in VS1/MP1. Correspondence seems likely not only between the vision of a busy metropolis bathing in sunlight and the positive affective aspects of bustling, luminous, shimmering activity (not to mention modernity and the large North American city connotations), but also between the relationship of figure to ground in both picture and music. In VS2 we see an individual in the middle of a large environment; in MP2 we hear a fully stated melody (figure, individual), characterised, moreover, as ‘individual’, ‘male’, etc., pitched in the middle of accompanying parts (background, environment). In VS/MP2 there exists for the first time the definite possibility of identifying the only individual shown on the screen with the affective content of the only fully stated melody played at a singable pitch in the music. Let us see whether this identification of the individual seen with the individual heard continues in the next VS or whether it is just a false alarm.

7.2.3 Visual sequence no.3

[ccr.9-11, MP3, b.9-11, bt.31-42, 5.4"]

Kojak’s little picture frame is moved up to the top right hand corner of the screen. This corner is of importance not only in the AO (the sweep-in movements in both VS1 and 2 started there) but also in Western culture as a whole. Any literate member of Western society will find the top right hand corner to be that area of a (right hand) page which first catches the eye when reading a newspaper or book. The still shot of Kojak in VS2 has been replaced by a ‘movie’. We can see but not hear Kojak in active conversation. He looks less stern than before and is shown as quite a different person from the man we saw in VS1 and 2. In VS3 he is more active, in a new position on the screen, viewed from a new (camera) angle (still slightly from below but now in semi-profile from the left instead of right) and at a more comfortable distance suited to normal conversation rather than to whispering, kissing, embracing, etc. (VS1). He is still avoiding the eye of the audience (camera).

A new aerial view of Manhattan, this-time in wide angle perspective, is swept in at the same pace as in VS2. This new sweep-in form still puts Kojak ‘in the middle of things’ despite the fact that his picture has been placed in the top right hand corner of the screen. This contradictory phenomenon can be explained by (i) the significance of the top right hand corner (see above), (ii) the order in which the frames or strips of the new sweep-in pattern are revealed (ì).

This new order of revelation results in a multiple circular movement (è). The ‘central-point-in-the-periphery’ phenomenon may also be explained by the imagined complete rectangular figure created by the masking pattern outside the surface of the TV screen as a continuation of the 4 x 90o forms shown in VS1 and 2.

Kojak is placed in the middle of the extended form .

In VS3 we find increased intensity not only because Kojak is ‘active’ but also in the number of sweep-in strips (4 instead of 3) which, revealing the total picture within the same time margins as preceding sequences, implies faster sweep-in movement (5.3 secs. for 4 strips instead of 5.3 secs. for 3 strips). There is also increased intensity in terms of formal symmetry and in the type of perspective used in the new aerial photo. The camera has also taken us nearer Kojak’s environment and lets us look more vertically, almost straight down into the concrete jungle where the ensuing action of the episode is to take place, dramatising this milieu through use of a dynamic wide-angle lens technique. The rectangular masking pattern, starting from the top left instead of top right corner of the screen, cuts across and aslant the lines of the background picture, emphasising the rising straight lines of the skyscrapers. Moreover, in contrast to VS1 2,4 and 6, the sweep-in form in VS3 ‘denies’ the picture frame (the limits of the TV screen) by tracing one single diagonal whereas the other patterns ‘affirm’ the frame by tracing two diagonals (fig. 22).

Fig. 22. Geometrical symmetry in sweep-in patterns. complementary and single diagonals

Another point of interest in VS3 is the new relationship of the Kojak frame to its surrounding environment. Kojak is perched on the top of the highest skyscraper in the picture and both glances and talks down along the diagonal (fig.21a). At the same time the order in which the strips of picture are revealed make the same diagonal construct a sort of spiral movement back up towards Kojak. A more balanced but dynamic relationship is established in this sequence: Kojak speaks and looks along the ‘valley’ (cf.contour lines on a map) constructed by the line of right angles in the sweep-in form which leads back to him.

Fig. 23. Directional effects of diagonal in VS3: (a) Kojak talking/looking down diagonal; (b) diagonal leading back to Kojak via sweep-in order; (c) wide-angle lens effect.

The manner in which the sweep-in pattern is superimposed on the wide-angle perspective makes it appear as though Kojak were looking down through the concrete jungle with such force that the skyscrapers bend backwards from the path traced by his gaze and speech (figure 23c) in much the same way as one might imagine high grass being pushed back by an explorer forging a path through virgin savanna territory. This possible interpretation of visual message is reminiscent of episodes in the modern myth of King Kong in which this mighty animal forces paths through both his natural jungle and the one he ended up in. When this noble savage arrives in the New York jungle, he ploughs his way forwards, parting rows of buildings with deft backhand flicks of the wrist, trampling onwards, irate and full of brute force, finally to reach the Empire State Building on whose summit he meets his fate. This is the same point on which the Kojak frame now rests.

At the end of the sequence Kojak puts his hat on. He is presumably about to leave, perhaps to go out on an ‘assignment’. This minor detail is nevertheless an example of adroit continuity considering Kojak’s entry in full outdoor regalia in VS4.

Fig. 24. Summary of change in relationship between visual and musical message from VS2/MP2 to VS3/MP3.

VS Description MP Description

2 Is this bald strong man a threatening brute or executioner? He is motionless 2

Clearly positive, virile, hero music. Energetic, broad, bold, martial, strong, confident

3 Kojak engaged in apparently pleasant conversation: no shadows, no mystery 3

2 New York from the air in sunshine 2 Luminous, generally bustling activity, modern N. American metropolis with unrestful ingredient

3 New York from the air in sunshine but in wide-angle perspective and dark shadows at street level 3

 

The music in VS3/MP3 is (with the exception of the final note in the melody leading the musical action upwards and onwards) identical to that of MP2/VS2. However, whereas we previously (VS2/MP2) observed a large amount of discrepancy between visual and musical message (on three main counts, as shown in figure 21), the similarities between the two seem to have increased in VS3/MP3. The changes in relationship between music and picture from VS2 to VS3 (MP2-3) are summarised in figure 24.

Bearing in mind the connection we have already mentioned between the appearance of the same visible individual in three consecutive different environments and the concurrent statement of an equally readily identifiable melodic line in the second and third MPs, it now seems not only possible but also probable that the horn melody as a musical phenomenon should be identifiable with Kojak as a visual phenomenon. The contradictory messages of the visual and musical ‘figures’ in VS2 (i.e. between the possibility of threatening brute force and clearly positive hero music) have been adjusted slightly. This adjustment, consisting of Kojak being moved from the shadows into the light and in an apparently pleasant situation of conversation, does not completely resolve the affective antagonism between picture and music since pleasant conversation in the light can hardly be regarded as epitomising virile, bold, martial or heroic action. However, there is a step in the ‘right’ direction from VS2 to VS3: Kojak is now shown also visually in a positive situation: he is talking energetically. The affective aspects of this situation were absent in the visual message but present in the musical message of VS2. Thus it would seem that there is an identifiable connection between the visual archetype possibly representing ‘brute force’ and the musical archetypes representing positive heroism. This connection has not only been brought about by means of repetition and reinforcement (horn calls, fanfare triplets, etc. in conjunction with bald-headed he-man three times in succession), but also by visual adjustments made in the affective presentation of Kojak from VS1 to VS2 to VS3 (from mystery, brooding, sternness, ‘question marks’, ‘mazes’, etc. to smiles in conversation, light, and simple but dynamic quadratic construction of sweep-in form).

If we are able to observe a partial rapprochement between visual and musical message regarding the ‘figure’ in VS/MP3, we can register an almost total rapprochement as far as the ‘environment’ (‘ground / background / accompaniment) is concerned. Whereas VS1/MP1 showed a complete lack of correspondence between music and picture in terms of luminosity and vibrant energy, and while VS2/MP2 showed this correspondence alone, its visual content reflecting less clearly the ‘unrestful, desultory and even slightly aggressive’ affect conveyed by the bass part of the AO, VS3/MP3 gives evidence of both visual and musical ‘constant general bustling activity of modern metropolis, luminous, vibrant, but also unrestful’ (the shadows), ‘desultory and slightly aggressive’.

Let us now proceed to a presentation of VS/MP4 and see whether this trend of increasing correspondence between visual and musical message is to continue or whether there will be a reversion to discrepancy and ambiguity.

7.2.4 Visual sequence no. 4

[ccr.12-15, MP4, b.12-14, bt.43-55, 5.8"]

The Kojak frame is again moved to a central position on the actual screen, this time down to the bottom. The frame changes shape from that of a diminished TV screen (i.e. almost a square but slightly longer horizontally than vertically) to become a rectangle with longer verticals than horizontals. This is a convenient shape to contain a full length shot of a human being on his/her feet. Indeed, in VS4 we see Kojak, framed by this rectangle of skyscraper shape, running towards the camera. Apart from the hat he donned in VS3, he is also wearing an overcoat. Charging towards us at the double down a dimly lit street or alley, he lifts his revolver and takes aim. Just as he is about to shoot at or past us (the camera), the sequence is cut in conjunction with the additive 5/4 rhythm of bar 15. 5.7 seconds have elapsed. During this time a number of visual novelties present themselves: (i) the sweep-in pattern starts from the bottom left corner of the screen; (ii) the environment is viewed for the first time from ground (sea) level; (iii) vertical lines are in greater evidence than horizontal; (iv) we see the first real action shots of Kojak.

Despite these novelties there are a number of similarities between VS4 and VS2-3. Kojak still has his own frame, around which the sweep-in form reveals a new aspect of his environment. The order in which the strips of this environment are revealed (2, 3, 4 ì) circle once again around Kojak (ë, 1 ì), pinpointing him as the focal point of the picture. Moreover, the extended form of the sweep-in pattern imaginable outside the actual surface of the TV screen puts Kojak once again into the ‘middle of things’ despite his ‘objective’ position at the bottom of the screen (ë).

The new sweep-in pattern can be compared to a door, a gateway, a corridor, etc. Kojak is running through the city as it is built up, around and behind him. The shape of the Kojak frame (and of the other congruent strips in the pattern) reflects the form of the buildings behind him. The intensively increased degree of activity in the Kojak frame seems to compensate for the relative congruency, concentricity and symmetry of the sweep-in pattern compared to those of the preceding VSs. Whereas the ‘labyrinth’, ‘meander’, ‘question mark’ etc. of VS1-2 and the ‘valley’ pattern of VS3 seem to require some thick, hard type of material in an imaginable state of material concretion, the masking pattern of VS4 can just as easily be imagined as freely hanging pieces of stage scenery, draperies or strips of curtain as solid gate or door posts with crossbars over the top. As stated above, the comparative lack of dynamism in the sweep-in pattern of VS4 in relation to that of VS3 has been compensated for by increased dynamism in the action taking place in the Kojak frame in VS4. The construction of the masking pattern emphasises the concentration and centralisation of the Kojak figure, not only by circumscription and pinpointing as in preceding VSs, but also by a convergence of the two diagonals created by the right angles of the sweep-in form into and out through the Kojak frame (figure 25). This convergence of diagonals underline the dynamism of Kojak’s direction of running and shooting towards the camera, almost to the three dimensional extent of Kojak and his bullets emerging out through the cathode ray tube into the living room.

This 3D effect, in which movement and action are, so to speak, extended outside the ‘objective’ picture frame, appears to be stock-in-trade in the visual arts when the effect of action, direction and movement is to be intensified and concretised. These techniques may be found in Renaissance painting as well as in twentieth century comic strips, as shown in figure 26.

Fig. 26. Action in and outside picture frame

The music for VS/MP4 is the same as that for VS/MP 2-3, with the exception of transposition. MP2-3 is now transposed wholesale (is. block transposition, everything parallel, en masse) up an minor third from MP2-3 in C to MP4 in E$. Although we have not yet been able to establish the ‘meaning’ of this transposition, we will assume for the time being that such a general lift of tonality also reflects a general lift or intensification of the affect conveyed in the lower version. This intensification is also underlined by the continuation of the melodic line from the final high C (G for horn, bar 11 in FT, ex. 19, p.140) in MP/VS3 and by the deletion of the octave up-beat whoop (m1a1a transposed up a minor third) making the rise in the melodic cadence of MP3 lead straight into the generally higher pitch of MP4. Apart from these changes it should also be noted that the final bar (b.14) of MP4 contains an extra beat, anticipating the additive rhythm of MP5 and its affective content of danger, excitement and urgency (cf. §6.5).

The relationship of music to picture in VS4/MP4 has also undergone a number of modifications which may be summarised as follows. This is the fourth time the viewer sees the same figure (person) in a new environment and the third time the listener hears the same unambiguous melodic line in its sonic environment (its accompaniment). If the identification of the Kojak gestalt with the fully stated horn melody was conceivable in MP/VS1, possible in MP/VS2 and probable in MP/VS3, it would seem to have become highly likely in MP/VS4. This is not only due to a mere repetition and reinforcement of the simultaneous occurrence of these two connectable phenomena in four consecutive sequences, but also to a successive revelation of the mysteries and ambiguities concerning affective evaluation (is he ‘goody’ or ‘baddy’?) of Kojak’s character. In VS1 and VS2 it was unclear whether the bald-headed figure shown on the screen (presuming the title sequences are being viewed for the first time) was a strong man of the brute-force-threatening-executioner type or a hero à la Yul Brunner. The music seemed to suggest an affect of an individual, heroic male, and the relationship between musical and visual affective message was conflicting and ambiguous. In MP/VS3 Kojak not only ceased to be stationary, his mysterious, sculptured, silhouetted, shadowy image also disappeared and he seemed to be engaged in reasonably pleasant and animated conversation. This development continued into MP/VS4 in which Kojak has become very energetic, active and virile, involved in the brave, bold, masculine and heroic act of running down a dimly lit street, probably hard on the heels of some criminal. The action taking place in the Kojak frame of VS4 is, in other words, archetypal for chase scenes in filmed or televised detective stories and may be compared to shots of any gun-slinging executor of US justice in the process of performing the most dramatic part of his duty. The simultaneous occurrence of the energetic, broad, bold, strong, confident, male, individual, martial, heroic horn melody with this archetypal ‘chase’ sequence seems, in other words, to leave very little doubt about connections between the affective message of the horn melody and the visual portrayal of Kojak in this sequence. Moreover, the previously mentioned correspondence between music and picture regarding positive and negative (light and dark) aspects of the environment continues in VS4/MP4 and is not only emphasised by the predominantly bright light (with a few odd shadows) in the main part of the picture, but also by the dimly lit street in the Kojak frame.

Another interesting point in VS/MP4 is its contextual position: Kojak has progressed from ‘mysterious and brooding’ (VS1-2) to ‘engaged in animated, pleasant conversation’ (VS3), both in undefined localities, to ‘running along a street in pursuit of someone and shooting’ (VS4) — a two-step process showing rising activity and a change from undefined to defined locality. Similarly Kojak’s environment has progressed from indistinct (VS1) to generally panoramic (VS2) to dynamic wide-angle bird’s-eye view looking almost straight down (VS3) to ground level (VS4). Kojak is himself seen at ground level too; he has become mope and more active while the audience has been brought nearer and nearer his environment. Simultaneously the rise of tonal centre from C to E$ has accompanied the final intensification of visual message in VS4 (Kojak running and shooting). This would seem to support the theory that the block transposition of MP2-3 up a minor third in MP4 also serves to increase the combined affective intensity of visual and musical message so far. The question is: how will this increase in intensity be continued?

7.2.5 Visual Sequence No. 5

7.2.5.1 Visual Sequence 5a

[ccr.16-19, MP5, b.15-17, bt.56-70, 6.7"]

The position of the Kojak frame is moved once again, this time from the middle bottom of the screen (VS4) to the middle of the left side. In VS5a, however, Kojak is not circumscribed or pinpointed by a rectangular sweep-in pattern as in the previous VSs, but has been ‘centralised’ by a more exciting and dramatic shape — a parallelogram. Once again the order in which the strips of the sweep-in pattern are revealed start with the Kojak frame and the proceed from the perimeter back in towards Kojak.

 

Although we are shown an action shot of Kojak in his frame he is portrayed as much more passive than in VS3 and VS4, less mysterious than in VS1-2. A strong, well spread light casting no visible shadows dominates the Kojak frame and almost seems to wipe out his facial features which were so excessively thrown into relief in VS1. He has been filmed frontally, almost directly head-on, and the camera has placed our eyes at the same level as Kojak’s. An unidentified hand belonging to an invisible figure with his back towards the camera replaces the telephone receiver, gesticulates with some vehemence and then seems to bring his fist resolutely down on to the table. Kojak remains passive as though he were subordinate: it is he who is listening. Perhaps he is receiving orders or being lectured by one of his superiors; perhaps Kojak is listening to an ultimatum from some arch-villain who has temporarily gained the upper hand. VS5a supplies no concrete solution to these points of conjecture but it is clear that the TV audience is presented with a contrasting view of Kojak: he seems to be temporarily constrained, subjugated, under someone else’s influence, not ‘driving the action’.

However, the disappearance of orthogonal rectangularity in the sweep-in pattern and Kojak’s comparative passivity are not the only two radical changes in visual presentation in VS5a. We should also consider that (i) the ‘environment’ has now become totally dark (Manhattan by night, more exciting, more threatening than by day) and (ii) the concrete relationship of the Kojak frame to the rest of the picture (the environment) shows a greater degree of plausibility and realism than in previous VSs. This means that the new view of New York in VS5a might actually be visible from where the Kojak frame has been placed on the screen and, reciprocally, that the setting in which Kojak is placed in his individual frame (it could be the fourteenth floor of some police precinct building) might actually be located in a building at that particular point in the total picture. There is obviously still a large degree of stylisation left in the picture regarding the relative size of visual material in the Kojak frame in proportion to that in the environmental setting, but the degree of concrete feasibility is nevertheless greater than in VS2 (a heavily shaded, mysterious Kojak figure suspended in mid air in the middle of a sunny metropolitan panorama), VS3 (Kojak talking from the pinnacle of the Empire State Building) or VS4 (Kojak running down a dark street at night across the water between the Battery and Liberty Island photographed in daylight). He is now situated in a position in the total picture which, as opposed to his positions in VS2,3 and 4, might be possible. We should also observe that the pattern created by the Kojak frame and the sweep-in movement in this sequence does not, as in previous VSs, emphasise the direction in which Kojak looks, talks or moves. This observation may be made clearer with the help of the following diagram (fig. 29).

Fig. 29. Relationship between Kojak's direction of movement and those created by the sweep-in.

---------ÿ = Kojak’s ‘direction’, —— = direction of pattern.

As may be gathered, there are a large number of important changes in visual message from VS1-2-3-4 to VS5a. These may be summarised as follows:

1. Kojak remains central but becomes passive, subordinate, unmysterious.

2. His environment is nocturnal, more exciting and dangerous.

3. The regular rectangularity of previous sweep-in patterns has been replaced by a parallelogram. Horizontals (the ‘horizon’, the ground we stand on) have been tipped 30° anti-clockwise, disrupting the geometrical stability of the picture while verticals remain in tact.

4. Kojak is in a physically more feasible relationship to his environment

These four observations point towards a general interpretation of VS5a which establishes a simultaneous intensification and negation of the visual processes and progressions we have traced from VS1-4. The TV audience is brought nearer and nearer Kojak’s environment (from general aerial panorama to wide-angle bird’s-eye view to ground level to Kojak imaginable actually in the environment shown) while Kojak’s tendency to become more active and heroic (VS3-4) is interrupted in VS5a where he is depicted in a passive, ‘subjugated’ situation. We might conclude that the comparative dynamism of development in the portrayal of environment in the switch from VS4 to VS5a is in contradiction to the disappearance of activity and dynamism on Kojak’s part at the same time, this making the environment in VS5a with its nocturnal setting and distorted horizontals more powerful than the image of a passive Kojak despite the fact that Kojak is still circumscribed, centralised and pinpointed as focal point of the total picture, the Kojak frame being thrown into relief in bright light against an extremely dark background. Kojak is in other words still the centre piece but weaker than his surroundings.

The simultaneous intensification and negation of the visual processes initiated in VS1-4 would seem to correspond to the parallel developments in musical message from MP1-4 to MP5. It should be recalled that we summarised the affective significance of MP5 in the following terms.

‘The basic significance of the ‘B’ section is to provide affective opposition to the 'A' section. The B section expresses greater unrest and unpredictability than the A section and a general mood of danger, excitement, activity and urgency is conveyed… environment dominates figure (see §6.5).

In the music we observed not only a rise of tonal centre and harmonic rhythm from 42 beats C via 13 beats E$ to 11½ beats F and A$ (intensification), but also a decrease between MP4 and MP5 in the amount of melodic material performed by the melody instruments (horns) which by this time are clearly identifiable with the initially (VS1-2) ambiguous executioner archetype who later become more visually heroic (VS4). At the same time, the active, virile reveille affect of the octave whoop (m1a1 as initial museme in MPs 1, 2 and 3) has been replaced by a rather nondescript upbeat figure consisting of two semiquavers (m3a). Moreover, the vibrant luminosity of the Moog ostinato (m2b) is drowned by the entry of the accompanying instruments and their tutti 10/8 additive figure (m3b) expressing tension, urgency and unpredictability. Perhaps we may regard this development as a musical equivalent to the visual switch from light to dark environment while the change from common time symmetrical isometre to 3/8+3/8+2/8+2/8=10/8=5/4 asymmetrical isometre may be regarded as a parallel to the distension of sweep-in horizontals through 30o. In other words, it appears that there is considerable correspondence between musical and visual message in VS5a/ MP5, as summarised in figure 30.

Fig. 30. Relationship between visual and musical message in VS5a/MP5

MP5 VS5a

dominance of horn part (melody) relinquished to accompanying parts Kojak is passive: ‘environment’ stronger than ‘figure

additive rhythm, urgency, tension, danger, excitement distortion of horizontals

m2b’s luminosity replaced by m3b at lower pitch and surface rate night

 

Since the parallelism of Kojak’s actions and the affective character of the horn part have been conceivable since VS/MP1, possible in VS/MP2, probable in VS/MP3, highly likely in VS/MP4, it would seem to have become almost certain in VS5a/MP5. We base this assumption not only on observations about learning to connect a musical figure in an ‘environment’ (a melody and its accompaniment) with a visual figure in its environment by means of repetition and reinforcement but also on the fact that there has been increasing parallelism between visual and musical representation of the environment as well. VS5a/MP5 may therefore be regarded as a point in the AO at which ‘the tables are turned’ both musically and visually, where the central figure (Kojak/the horn part) no longer ‘drives the action’ but where a threatening environment gains the upper hand. Let us see if this tension continues or relaxes.

7.2.5.2 Visual Sequence 5B

[ccr.20-21, MP6, b.18-19, bts.71-77, 3.1"]

VS5b consists of a frozen still of the final frame in VS5a over which the text TELLY SAVALAS AS.... is superimposed. VS5b may be considered as the end of the visual processes described thus far (totally new material is presented in VS6) and the point at which the visual processes we have already discussed have been directed. At the same time, the appearance of verbal message for the first time and its unfinished character (as.... as what?) mark the start of a new visual process, this time of a semantic, cognitive nature. There is no visual movement in this visual ‘subsequence’, the occurrence of written message being the only novelty. The words TELLY SAVALAS AS..., superimposed on the parallelogram sweep-in view of dangerous but exciting Manhattan by night, might help explain part of the question inherent in VS5a, is. ‘how can our hero be dominated by his environment?’ Here we must distinguish between Telly Savalas, the real person who plays Kojak, and Kojak, the mythical figure played by Telly Savalas. Our conjecture at this point is that a real person with a real name can be easily identified with the real situation of being dominated by an inimitable environment whereas the mythical hero with the mythical name Kojak is more likely to be identified with the mythical situation of always ending up either as master of or at one with a dangerous but fascinating environment. Now, this interpretation may seem rather far-fetched, so let us see whether the relationship of music to picture can throw any light on the matter.

MP6, which accompanies VS5b, consists of seven beats (71-77 + up-beat in b.17). This MP marks the recapitulation of MP1 and 2 in drastically abridged form (7 beats instead of 24). Despite the abbreviation, slight modification of triplet figure from o q q3 q to k q q q, the appearance of a C11 chord instead of Cm11 and a number of other small variations, MP6 constitutes the obvious start of the return of the A section, implying in turn the restatement of affective message found in MP2 and 3, i.e. something individual, male, positive, virile, confident, heroic, broad, energetic, etc. in an environment of general, bustling activity, modern, metropolitan, agitated but vibrant and luminous. The main difference is that m2b, the most unrestful, desultory and aggressive aspect of accompaniment (environment), is not included in the recapitulation. In this way, the last frame of VS5a and the name Telly Savalas are associated for the space of 3.1 seconds with the main musical affect of MP2-3, despite the fact that practically the same visual composition was associated for the duration of 6.7 seconds (MP5/VS5a) with highly contrasted musical affect. Thus, we may regard the return of the A section in VS5b/MP6 as a sort of overlap, splicing the join between VS5a and VS6 and facilitating the viewer’s identification of the passive Kojak (VS5a) with the heroic Kojak (VS 3,4,6). This bridging of the gap between the ‘real’ situation of passive subjugation under a threatening environment and the mythical situation of active, individual, heroic dominance over the same environment would seem to constitute an important turning point in our AO. This seems to be a feasible assumption if the reader will imagine what the effect might have been were VS5a and 5b to have been viewed solely in connection with MP5. Admittedly, an overlap in visual message exclusively, in which the end of the visual processes from VS1-5 runs for three seconds simultaneous with the start of the new visual/semantic process, might be sufficient in itself to establish connections between [1] the passive Kojak (VS5a), [2] the name Telly Savalas (VS5b) and [3] heroic Kojak (VS4), but these connections would logically seem to be given greater emphasis by the three second overlap of ‘heroic music plus passive picture’. In this way it would appear easier for the viewer/listener not only to see passive and heroic Kojak as the same person, but also to relate to his own real situation and real relationship to a threatening Umweld. In this way a three stage identification process may be possible:

l The viewer identifies his own situation with that experienced by the mythical figure Kojak in VS5a/MP5;

l The viewer identifies the name Telly Savalas (a real name playing an unreal role [‘as’...]) with the bald-headed individual in the ‘subjugated’ situation of VS5a/MP5;

l The viewer connects the individual portrayed ‘realistically’ in VS5a/MP5 and who has a ‘real’ name in VS5b with the same person portrayed mythically in VS1-4.

Let us see what happens to this identification process in the rest of the piece.

7.2.6 Visual Sequence no. 6

7.2.6.1 Visual Sequence 6a

[ccr.22-25, MP7-8, bt.78-929 6.3’]

VS5b saw the start of an incomplete verbal statement ‘TELLY SAVALAS AS.....’

Instead of supplying an immediate continuation to this verbal message, a new non-verbal sequence appears on the screen. We see Telly Savalas as a new sweep-in pattern consisting of not three (VS1,2), not four (VS3-5) but of five strips. These five strips, occupying the lower middle section of the TV screen uncover yet another view of New York, this time of skyscrapers in brilliant sunshine with not a trace of shadow. The sweep-in pattern itself is also shaped like a row of skyscrapers and the strips rise slowly upwards in what appears to be random order and speed, revealing an environment of gleaming glass and steel. This random speed and order in which the strips uncover the skyscraper backcloth seems to have a more organic, natural effect than would have been possible if they had risen in standard order and at regular speed from left to right (or vice versa), from the middle outwards (or vice versa) or all simultaneously and at equal, constant speed. Moreover, the irregular and apparently random speed and order of skyscraper sweep-ins, if viewed at any given moment in VS6a, bears greater resemblance to a typically Manhattan silhouette than a representation of buildings consisting of five regularly arranged strips. When these five animated skyscrapers have risen to a completion point somewhere just above the middle of the TV screen (after about 3 seconds), they are tipped forwards towards the camera. On the top of each of the five skyscrapers there is a letter. The five letters are K O J A K. This name has been pushed upwards towards the sky on tall, powerful buildings. Kojak’s name becomes a ‘name above every other name’: not only is he in the centre of every environment he visits (cf.VS1-5), in VS6a the environment builds his name. Kojak becomes part of the environment, more specifically its top, the apex, the highest point, borne on the tops of skyscrapers.

These mythological aspects with obvious biblical overtones, to be discussed in chapter eight, are emphasised by a number of new visual elements which have yet to be commented on.

The previous complexity and abstraction of the earlier sweep-in patterns has been replaced by concretion in VS6a. This is not only visible in the addition of verbal message in VS5a (verbal concretion), but also in the unidirectional movement of the new sweep-in form. This one-way movement differs considerably from the quadridirectional pattern in VS1-2, the tridirectional movement in VS4 and 5, and even from the two-way pattern of VS3 (fig.31).

Fig. 31. Multidirectional and unidirectional sweep-in patterns.

Complete materialisation of the visual message is first fully realised, however, when the mass of skyscraper material shown in the sweep-in pattern of VS6a is tipped forward to become visible as printing types. These printing types, tipped forwards through 90° from vertical to horizontal bear great resemblance to other logotypes whose function it is to give an impression of great power (fig.32). When they finally reach the horizontal state they constitute the logotype .

The strong, hard, steel, concrete and glass of the skyscrapers building Kojak’s name are also similar to the sort of letters hewn in stone (thereby suggesting strength and durability) found in the Old Testament or in the logos for Movietone News, Ben Hur, etc.

Fig. 32. Superpower logos

Such logos do not only reflect strength and durability by creating an illusion of solidity but can also express power, depth, width and height by shortening the central perspective to such an extent that the viewer can ‘see’ as far as the horizon, right down into the depths. This can be illustrated by comparing the two sketches below (fig.33, 34).

 

Fig. 33. This demonstration is so big that the column of marchers reaches right back as far as the eye can see while people pass by under us.

 

Fig. 34. This name and the letters building it are so big and powerful that they appear to come from beyond the horizon as they fly right across the sky, passing high over our heads.

 

 

In this context we should also note the light cast on the toppling skyscrapers of VS6a. In contrast to the totally black background, so much strong sunlight seems to be reflected in the skyscraper strips that they almost appear to be ablaze with light, a sort of visualisation of such notions as letters of fire, pillars of fire, writings in the sky, signs in the heavens, ‘names up in lights’, etc., all of which suggest varying types and amounts of greatness and power.

Compared to the temporary set-back of VS5, the visual message of VS6 appears to be unreservedly mythical and heroic. The ‘subjugated’ individual of VS5 has been transfigured into five huge skyscrapers ablaze with light, first rising towards the sky and then approaching powerfully from the distance bearing the name of our mythical hero: Kojak.

The music of MP7 which accompanies most of the visual sequence described above consists of a modified repetition of MP4 and its affective message — the same as for MP2 (see fig. 14, p.223), i.e. something individual, male, heroic, bold, etc. in an atmosphere of luminous, generally bustling modern metropolitan activity. The unrestful, aggressive ingredient (m2a) is conspicuously absent since there are no spaces in the melodic line letting this filler through. All that is left of the desultory bass line at this stage are the simple V-I oompah figures marking the main downbeats in the melody.

The quick rise of the skyscraper strips (around 8 beats or 3½ - 4 seconds) has been musically anticipated by the quick rise (7 beats or 3 seconds C in bars 18-19 compared to 42 beats or 18½ seconds in bars 1-11 before the rise to E$ in the ‘exposition’) from C to E$, especially noticeable here in the recapitulation thanks to the ascending line of harmonies played at a new, higher pitch by the strings:

Ex.183. Kojak. String parts, b.18-22.

 

As the word KOJAK becomes discernible on top of the toppling skyscrapers, the musical progression C ® E$ is complete and a repetition of the previously heard third and final stage of this progression (i.e. onwards and upwards to F) might be expected. However, instead of hearing C® E$® F which we heard in the ‘exposition’, we hear C® E$® C (at this point we are in MP8, bar 22, beat 86) and the music seems to have completed the circle back to a reprise of MP1, the main difference being that the bass part no longer plays its somewhat aggressive syncopated figure (m2a) to fill in the gaps but actually states the horn melody a twelfth lower instead. Thus, not only has the visual environment become the name KOJAK, but it would also seem that the most ‘aggressive’ component of the horn part’s musical environment had lost its contrasting and independent character, becoming ‘Kojak’ in a similar way.

7.2.6.2 Visual Sequence 6b

[ccr.26-28, MP8, bts.93-100, 3.6"]T

The name KOJAK is frozen as a simple logotype against a black background. The typeface used for this logo is a slightly enlarged variant of that found in VS5b (ccr.20). Then the logotype is superimposed on to a dark silhouette close-up of Kojak. Name and figure (person) can be seen simultaneously for a period of about 2 seconds (ccr.27). Kojak is wearing the same hat as in VS4 and is strongly silhouetted by light coming from what this time can almost definitely be identified as a window. Although the camera is not quite as close to Kojak here in VS6b as in VS1, the camera angle is the same. The visual processes also seem to be completing full circle: the viewer first (VS1) saw a close-up of a bald man strongly silhouetted by light coming from the right of the picture and heard the horn’s octave whoop c3 - c4 at the same time. The silhouetted figure then became the central point in a number of different environments and the environment became the name KOJAK. This name is now superimposed on the same profile that was seen in the first VS. The profile is accompanied by music which at this point (MP8) has also completed its processual circle. During the 3½ seconds of VS6b the horns play two octave whoops c3 - c4, restating the initial melodic motif of the piece. We are, moreover, safely back in C, the home key. A final chord seems to be approaching, marked by contrasting rhythmic up-beat figures in bass and brass parts before bar 26.

7.2.7 Visual sequence no.7

[ccr.29-30, MP9, beats 100-112, b.26-28, 5.4 secs.]

At beat 100 the initial sequence (VS1) is resumed in full with Kojak viewed in extreme close-up. Viewers will recognise this figure who has managed to visit almost all parts of the TV screen and yet remain the central point of various environments. Now he reoccupies the whole screen: no environment is visible. Kojak starts to turn towards the camera, but his eyes do not meet ours. This is partly because he directs his brooding gazes lightly downwards, partly because the sequence is swept out by the same stylised meander movement inwards which formed the sweep-in pattern in VS1. He is in the same room, viewed at the same distance and from the same angle as before. The only difference apart from sweep-out (=end) instead of sweep-in (=start) is that there seem to be traces of a slight smile starting to form on the lips of our master detective. In any case, the horn players reach their third consecutive g4 (concert c4), thereby underlining the heroic, active ‘upward and outward’, exciting and energetic finality of the piece. As the Kojak profile is swept away into black-out the disappearance of visual message is compensated for by the title music’s final crescendo and its combined function of finality and bridge, i.e. marking the end of the piece but at the same time creating enough kinetic energy to propel interest, attention and excitement across the double bar and the visual cut right into the first sequence of the actual story that follows.

7.3 Conclusions

We do not at this stage intend to summarise the combined visual and musical message in any detail. This discussion must wait until syntagmatic aspects of these messages have been treated more thoroughly and until other extramusical properties of the AO have been accounted for. However, it should be already clear from the descriptions of visual sequences presented above that the possible executioner-brute-force-bald-baddy aspects of Kojak’s appearance may well have been modified by the end of VS7. It seems as if music may play an important part in the communication of positive affective evaluations of Kojak. The visually negative, or at least ambiguous, presentation ends in an unambiguously positive evaluation — as hero.

This interpretation of visual and musical message will, however, be discussed in greater detail when we have put forward ways of treating processual aspects of the AO and discussed certain important extramusical phenomena which have yet to be considered.

 

3.

IOCM

PMC

 

2.

IOCM

IMC

ëa bì

íc dî

 

1.

AO

IMC

Fig. 25. VS4 masking pattern’s emphasis of movement

toward the viewer

 

4.

IOCM

PMC

 

2.

IOCM

IMC

 

3.

AO

PMC

Fig. 27. VS5: Order of sweep-in strips and Kojak’s positions as hub of imaginary extended parallelogram

 

Fig. 28. Circumscription and centralisation by sweep-in.

 

8 Other paramusical aspects

Before undertaking the final discussion of the combined visual and musical message of the Kojak theme there remain a number of paramusical aspects which have yet to be accounted for. Moreover, we have yet to present our methods of interpreting the syntagmatic aspects of musical and visual message (chapter 9).

If we return for a moment to our checklist for the analysis of popular music, more specifically to the section ‘simultaneous paramusical forms of cultural expression’ (§4.2.3.1.2, p.103), the reader will find that we have already dealt to some extent with such phenomena as written language, graphics and visual symbols (title credits, lay-out, action, setting, lighting, camera angle, camera distance, facial expression, environment and movements — stand, look, sit, talk, run, shoot, etc.), while other phenomena, such as paramusical sound and spoken language do not occur in conjunction with the AO. The aspects of paramusical communication which remain to be discussed, or which have only been mentioned in passing, are therefore ‘behavioural norms’, i.e. his actions, gestures, clothing, etc. Moreover, we should also consider the role played by mythological symbolism in the combined musical/visual presentation and discuss the connotations of the name ‘Kojak’.

8.1 Kojak’s actions

Kojak is involved in practically no type of social interaction with any other individual during the course of the title sequences. True, he seems to be talking to someone invisible in VS3, shooting at someone equally invisible in VS4 and, possibly, being addressed by another invisible ‘someone’ in VS5a. Kojak is the only person the TV audience can see: he is acting solo and the title sequences revolve round him as the sole individual in relation to changing general environments visibly devoid of other humans. Kojak is shown as an individual in relation to environments, not as an individual in relation to other individuals. This observation is in itself not particularly startling, but if we consider this fact in relation to the behavioural norms and social implications of much television viewing the pattern becomes more interesting. Describing the pathology of privacy, Pawley (1973: 60) argues that citizens of the industrialised capitalist world have made choices, as he puts it,

‘for the private car and against public transport, for suburban life against urban or rural community, for owner occupation and against tenancy, for the nuclear and against the extended family, for the television and against the cinema and theatre.’

Pawley clearly characterises television watching as a primarily private, individualistic and non-collective experience. Indeed, it is difficult for two or more viewers to manifest any type of collective response towards, for example, a Kojak episode or its signature unless those included in such a group were either to comment on the action while it is taking place (an annoying and disturbing habit to many viewers) or to turn off the television immediately afterwards and discuss their reactions, an uncommon event in most households where either another programme will follow or another activity will demand attention, perhaps the washing up, putting children to bed, etc. In other words, the relationship established during the title sequences to Kojak will probably be that between the only individual on the screen and the individual watching him and not between an individual and a community nor between two communities.

It is too early to draw any far-reaching conclusions about this identification process. Therefore, although we should bear in mind the monocentric nature of the message being transmitted in our AO and the individually privatised nature of most television watching, we should at this stage concentrate on more concrete paramusical details and postpone the discussion of such generalities until the concluding chapter of this thesis.

8.2 Kojak's clothing

We have on several previous occasions mentioned the ambiguity of evaluative message which arises from the contradiction between the horn part’s positive, heroic character and Kojak’s resemblance to negative, villainous visual archetypes, such as executioners and other powerful brutes. This contradiction is emphasised by an ambiguity concerning Kojak’s clothing. Neither executioners nor active police heroes are usually attired, like Kojak, in hand-sewn, three-piece $300 suits. Plain- clothes policemen may well have worn pork-pie hats like Kojak’s but would usually be less exclusively clad, sporting beige trench coats rather than tailor-made suits and all wool overcoats. Executioners are generally presented hooded or bareheaded but quite a number of bald brutal villains are often presented in smart suits and stylish headgear. Not only Oddjob and Goldfinger but also cold-blooded gunmen in Westerns are often dressed smartly and soberly, appearing prepared for killing as if it were a boardroom meeting. Kojak’s clothing seems more reminiscent of these taciturn, enigmatic gunmen of the Wild West who descend like dei ex machinis on isolated communities and who, irrespective of whether they are good or bad guys are almost inevitably portrayed as cultivated but invincible sharp-shooters and lone wolves who go about the task of fighting and killing with the clinical exactitude and sophisticated accuracy of an experienced business executive.

We may conclude that Kojak’s clothing qualifies the ‘brute-force’ visual archetype with an ingredient of the ‘smart lone wolf’ and ‘hired killer’ archetype. However since the latter archetype can occur in the guise of hero as well as of villain, it should be noted that Kojak’s clothing does not convey any evaluative (good or bad) information about his character, compounding the ambiguity of his visual presentation rather than dispelling it.

8.3 Kojak’s gestures

In chapter seven we commented on the movements made by Kojak in the visuals accompanying the theme tune. We also observed the ‘master mind at work’, ruminating with furrowed brow and with bright light from stage right, carving out his features with exaggerated shadow effects and making him look like a marble sculpture (VS1: Rodin’s Le Penseur?).

We should also note his friendly but slightly condescending nod in the conversation shown in the Kojak frame of VS3, his resolute and energetic running and shooting in VS4 and his temporary vulnerability in VS5, compensated for by the mythical rise to power of his name in VS6 and the recurrence of his noble profile viewed from below as an extreme close-up (VS7). Kojak’s facial expression, gesture and action seem in other words to emphasise the fact that although the figure we are viewing may be exposed to danger in the middle of the title sequences (a parallel to his danger in the middle of most episodes), he is nevertheless a man of thought (VS1, VS7, friendliness (VS3), action (VS4), power and strength (VS6).

8.4 Visual myth

8.4.1 A biblical excursion

Chapter 7, our discussion of visual message in the Kojak theme, contained a number of passages of a mythical, quasi-religious character. These passages, originally conceived as mere descriptions of what was seen to actually take place on the TV screen, were found to bear distinct resemblance to accounts of divine intervention, the wielding of divine power, the expression of divine wrath, etc. Such passages are in abundance in the Old Testament as well as in the apocryphal and eschatalogical parts of the bible. This does not mean that transmitter and receiver of the visual message in the AO necessarily associate to specific biblical passages in the communication process we are trying to describe: we merely wish to ascertain how the visual message in our AO is related to other pictorial analogies of strength, greatness, power, superhuman activity, etc. in our cultural tradition. Of course, divine power is depicted in similar ways in other religions and mythologies, in the descriptions of heroic deeds in medieval sagas, in the epic tales of ancient Greece, and in accounts of the creation and divine intervention in non-Christian religion. Although we could have chosen to compare the visual sequences described in chapter seven with such traditions it nonetheless seems preferable to trace any mythological parallels to the Bible for two main reasons. Firstly, the super-human heroes of film, television and comic strips are part of a common cultural tradition shared by most TV viewers in the West. These invincibles (Superman, Batman etc.) are in turn portrayed in similar terms of superhuman strength to those found in earlier traditions, notably in the Bible. The second reason is that the demi-gods of both TV series and comic strips were first produced in the USA with its hegemonic WASP tradition. The various sects to be found within this eschatalogical Protestant culture (Baptists, Mormons, Pentecostalists, Plymouth Brethren, Jehovah’s Witnesses, etc.) have often emphasised notions of divine retribution, a god of wrath and vengeance, of judgement, of punishment in eternal fire and damnation, of reward in heaven, etc. This tradition has permeated English-speaking North America and left its mark in the lyrics of gospel and country music, in literature, and in an attitude to censorship which was, at least until quite recently, characterised by stringency towards eroticism and leniency towards violence.

We do not present these arguments in order to imply that those who watch our AO in Hong Kong, Japan, Saudi-Arabia or Indonesia have no traditions of power symbolism similar to our own: on the contrary, accounts of superhuman power in connection with high mountains, deep seas, hard rock, blazing fire, great speed, etc. seem to occur in most myth and religion. We have chosen the Bible to illustrate symbolism of superhuman power because it is the most widely known collection of religious mythical writings in the cultural tradition of transmitters and receivers in the capitalist world, not least in the USA. The connections between the visual mythification of Kojak in our AO and the greatness of the Judaeo-Christian God should be clear from table 1.

Table 8-1. Comparison between (a) visual message expressing Kojak’s character in the AO and (b) descriptions of the power of the Christian God in the Bible.

 

VS Kojak picture description Quotation from Bible or Mass

1 The viewer is shown only part of his appearance and character, and even then only by insinuation… a silhouette effect with connotations of inaccessibility and intangibility… What is he like head-on in daylight? How long, Lord? Wilt thou hide thyself for ever? [Ps.89:47].Thy face, Lord, will seek. Hide not thy face from me [Ps.27:8-9]. For now we see through a glass, darkly;.... but then face to face [l Cor.13:12 bl°pomen går êrti di'§sÒptrou §n afinigmati]. Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God [Matt.5:8 makãrioi ofl kayaro‹ tª kard¤a ˜ti aÈto¤ tÚn yeÚn ˆcontai]. And they will see his face [Rev.22:4 ka‹ ˆcontai tÚ prÒswvpon aÈtou]. See also Ps.27:8; Is.45:19; Deut:4.29; Ps.102:3.

3 Kojak is perched on the top of the highest skyscraper… the wide-angle perspective makes it look… as if he is looking down through the concrete jungle with such power that the skyscrapers bend backwards from the path traced by his gaze and speech. Who is like unto the Lord our God who dwelleth on high? [Ps.113:5] For he hath looked down from the height of his sanctity; from heaven did the Lord behold the earth [Ps.102:19]. The voice of the Lord is powerful: (it) breaketh the cedars of Lebanon [Ps. 29:4-5]. He looketh on the earth and it trembleth [Ps.104:32]. He sendeth forth his commandment upon earth: his word runneth very swiftly [Ps.147:15]. Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hath spoken [Is.1:2]. And Elijah took his mantle and wrapped it together and smote the waters, and they were divided hither and thither, so they went over on dry ground [2 Kings 2:9].

4 Kojak is now seen at ground level …he descended from heaven… [Credo – descendit de coelis]

5 The viewer can identify the real name of the real person with the ‘subjugated’ individual in VS5a… who no longer ‘drives the action’… a threatening environment temporarily gains the upper hand. …and was made man… was made flesh… He was crucified for us, he suffered and was buried… [Credo – et homo factus est… et incarnatus est … Crucifixus etiam pro nobis. Passus et sepultus est]. He came unto his own and his own knew him not… And the word became flesh and dwelt among us [John.1:11,14 Eflw tå ‡dia ¬lyen ka‹ ofl ‡dioi aÈton oÈ par°labon …. ka‹ € lÒgow sårj §g°neto ka‹ §skÆnvsen §n ðmin].

6 The temporarily ‘subjugated' individual of VS5 has been transfigured into 5 huge skyscrapers ablaze with light, first rising upwards toward the sky, then approaching powerfully from the distance bearing the name of our mythical hero… The environment builds his name… Since the tops of the skyscrapers spell out his name he becomes the top, the apex, the summit, the zenith of his environment… a visualisation of such notions as pillars of fire, writing in the sky, signs in the heavens, ‘names up in lights’…The strong, hard steel, concrete and glass of the skyscrapers building Kojak's name... reflect durability… through an illusion of solidity. On the third day he rose again and ascended into heaven... whence he shall come in glory to judge… [Credo]. Behold! The name of the Lord cometh from afar, burning with anger [Is.20: 37]. And signs shall appear in the sun and moon and stars… and they shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven with great power and glory [Luke 21:25-27 ka‹ ¶sontai shme›a §n ðli“ ka‹ selÆn½ ka‹ êstroiw... ka‹ tÒte ˆcontai tÒn uflon toË ényrÝpou §rxÒmenon §n nef°l½ metå dunãmevw ka‹ dÒjhw poll×w]. And the sign of the Son of man will appear in heaven… and they will see [Him] coming on the clouds with power and great glory. And he will send forth his angels with a great trumpet sound… [Matt.24:30 ka‹ tÒte fanÆsetai tÚ shme›on toË ufloË toË ényrÝpou §n oÈran“, ka‹ ˆcontai [aÈtÒn] §rxÒmenon §p‹ t«n nefel«n toË oÈranoË metå dunãmevw ka‹ dÒjhw poll×w. ka‹ épostele› toÁw égg°louw aÈtoË metå sãlpiggow megãlhw…]. Behold, he cometh with the clouds and every eye shall see him [Rev.1:7 ÖIdoÁ ¶rxetai metå t«n nefel«n ka‹ ˆcetai aÈtÚn pçw ÙfyalmÚw]. O Lord our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! Who hast thy glory above the heavens [Ps.8:1]. And the Lord went before them by night in a pillar of fire to give them light [Exodus13:21]. My God the rock of my salvation [Ps.89:26]. Who is a rock save our God? [Ps.18:32].

7 The initial sequence is resumed... The viewer will recognise this figure who has managed to visit practically all parts of the TV screen and yet remain the central point of various environments... The visual process has now completed a full circle. Thou has beset me behind and before... if I ascend into heaven thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. [Ps.139:5,8]. ‘I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and ending’, saith the Lord, ‘which is, which was and which is to come, the Almighty’ [Rev.1:8 ÖEgý efimi tÚ êlfa ka‹ to ÖW, l°gei KÊriow € YeÒw, € Ãn € ²n € §rxÒmenow, € Pantokrãtvr]. In the beginning was the word [John 1:1 §n t¼ érxª ²n € lÒgow].

 

Using the passages cited or referenced in table 1 and in footnote 525, we can construct a biblical description of the visual sequences discussed in chapter seven:

For now we see Kojak through a glass, darkly. But from his sanctuary on top of the Empire State Building Kojak hath looked down. He spake and the skyscrapers of 42nd Street were divided hither and thither. He descended from heaven and was made man and dwelt among us. He suffered. In the sixth VS he rose again and ascended on five blazing pillars of fire on to the tops of the highest skyscrapers. And the flesh became word. Behold! his name shall come from afar with great glory to judge both good guys and bad guys. But now, as through a glass, darkly, we see Kojak who was in the beginning, is now and is to come.

Neither this fictitious gospel nor the biblical analogies which preceded it have been presented to prove anything. We have merely intended to direct attention towards similarities between two branches of mythological tradition in the West: on the one hand the manner in which the detective hero of a modern television series is presented in title sequence form and, on the other hand, biblical and liturgical descriptions of the Christian God. Our contention is that these two manners of depicting the superhuman power of mythical figures share a number of common traits or ‘X-factors’, as Bernstein (1976: 125, ff.) has called them. These similarities may be summarised as follows:

1. Both are presented as inaccessible and intangible to normal humans.

2. Both are viewed literally and metaphorically from below.

3. Both reside in high places whence they look down upon the world of mortals.

4. Both intervene and take part in everyday human life and are beset by human problems and difficulties.

5. Both emerge victorious from these trials and tribulations and re-ascend to their initially lofty point of departure.

6. Both have names which are magnified and powerful.

7. Both approach us from a great distance, and at great speed, to execute justice in a wicked world.

8. Both are presented in terms of strong, solid material or personified by light and heat.

9. Both are so large that they can be seen simultaneously at the horizon and over the whole sky.

10. Both are omnipresent in time and space.

Despite all these common traits it should be clear that Kojak is not God; nor is God Kojak any more then a loved one can logically be the apple of anyone else’s eye or any more than Juliet (in Romeo and Juliet) can be the sun. However, just as Juliet resembles the sun as far as Romeo is concerned when considering affective experience of radiance, warmth, light, etc., and just as she obviously differs from the sun on all traditionally ‘objective’ counts — life span, size, distance from Romeo, material, etc. — the Kojak of our title sequences may well, in a similar way and along the lines just presented, resemble God, while at the same time differing radically from God in terms of behavioural and ethical norms, human guise, degree of incarnation, perpetuity, etc.

On the other hand it is clear that the Kojak of our title sequences is no ordinary human being: in the visual portrayal we have been discussing, Kojak cannot be regarded as part of material reality. No human can be everywhere like Kojak, in so many different environments, so large in proportion to them and simultaneously be their central point and apex. No-one’s name can make skyscrapers topple or come sweeping across the sky. This is why Kojak, as visually presented in these title sequences, should be regarded as a superhuman hero. Moreover, since the visual language contains so many elements of symbolism magnifying and glorifying the fictitious person Kojak, we also state that the presentation is highly mythological.

 

8.4.2 On the value of mythical comparison

Some readers may find the parallels, drawn above, between the visual presentation of Kojak in the title sequences and descriptions of God’s power in the Bible to be far-fetched. If so, it is hard to see what function the visual presentation may have at all, apart from one of obvious reveille. Indeed, it would be illogical to deprive the visual signature of any ‘preparatory’ function, not only because it so clearly spells ‘action’ by piecing together short cuts in typically North American breakneck tempo, but also because it would be a waste of money to produce such title sequences if they were not intended to give the viewer at least some advance information about the type of person, environment and action to be shown in the subsequent story (§4.1.4). Moreover, although such sequences are not yet available on video, one may presume the title sequences to own ‘menemonic identification’ properties similar to those of the signature music, presenting the hero’s image not only in terms of personal appearance, but also reflecting the fact that we are about to view someone who infallibly emerges victorious against all odds in every single episode, a superhuman feat requiring visual treatment reflecting this unrealistic, if not metaphysical, aspect of the production as well.

Another possible objection to the sort of mythical analogies we have drawn in this chapter might be that we are reading too much into the visual message and that although some viewers may associate in the sort of direction described above, our observations are irrelevant since they are neither verified nor universal.

As stated earlier, in our presentation of analytical method, the reliability of interobjective comparison depends on the extent and range of comparative material available to the analyst (see §4.2.4.2.3). In our museme analysis it was found that a certain number — by no means a majority — of the musical ‘experts’ preferred to associate to other works in a group situation while the majority of associations were made by separate individuals. A large amount of IOCM resulted from this process and most works in the comparative material used in this thesis were suggested by different individuals, very few pieces being suggested by more than one person. This does not mean to say that all these individuals were making ‘incorrect’ associations just because the comparative material they suggested was not mentioned by anyone else; it is not primarily the number of respondents making the same intersubjective reaction and interobjective comparison that determines our choice of IOCM, but rather (a) the audible and visible correspondences between the AO and other pieces of music and (b) the degree of correspondence between the PMFCs of the other pieces of music which exhibit the same musematic traits as those to be interpreted in the AO. If we may use this technique to discuss musematic meaning it seems also reasonable to use it also in a discussion of visual archetypes. We do not therefore imply that all members of any defined population, be it Westerners in general, Californians, Swedes or teenagers from middle-class homes in North Manchester, will associate or verbally interpret the same item of received communication in the same way because each individual will have his/her own patterns and fields of association, although we would expect a greater degree of sociocultural homogeneity in any given population to result in a greater similarity of response. We may, on the other hand, be reasonably sure that there are elements in each individual’s unique sphere of association which are shared by other individuals in the same given population, neither do we exclude the possibility of the existence of a few non-verbal communicative elements of a universal character.

The Kojak series and its title sequences, reaching television audiences in over seventy countries in a multitude of different cultures, competes with other TV series for sales to a vast, culturally heterogeneous market and should therefore, in order to reach as many viewers as possible, compose its visual and musical message so that it will be decodable. However, since homogenous interpretation on such a large scale is highly unlikely, it would seem logical to include as many interpretative aspects in an analysis of this visual message in order to cover as large an area of connotation as possible. Thus, we do not contend that biblical quotations of the type presented above are ‘correct’ interpretations; they are merely ‘possible’. It is also ‘possible’ that a Saudi watching these Kojak titles on Aramco TV might either associate to Cadillacs and jet planes or to metaphors of power in the Koran, while a Northern European or North American urban teenager without the author’s religious background might associate directly to similar heroic ‘action-packed’ title sequences (e.g. Baretta, The Men From UNCLE, The Andros Targets, Cannon, etc.), even to Batman, Superman or other cartoon demi-gods. We may, on the other hand, be sure that very few viewers will find the visual sequences slow or look upon Kojak as a weakling or a steady, nine-to-five kind of family man.

What is of interest is, in short, not whether the biblical parallels presented above are ‘correct’ or ‘incorrect’ (whatever these adjectives may mean in this context) but whether our analogies share any ‘X-factors’ in common with other conceivable responses to the same visual message. Thorough investigation of such correspondence is beyond the scope of this thesis in musicology and we shall confine ourselves to stating that in the visual sequences under analysis, Kojak is presented as: [1] incommensurably large in relation to his environment and often in other materially impossible relationships to it; [2] the central figure in name and person at all stages; [3] the sole figure in name and person to occur throughout the piece.

This description of central aspects of the visual process is interpreted as implying a magnification of the figure Kojak in relation to his environment. This magnification takes on proportions which would not only be impossible in material reality but which also seem abnormally large from the hypothetically subjective viewpoint of one human relating to another. We would have to look to such statements as ‘Juliet is the sun’ or ‘God is everywhere’ to find parallels to the way in which Kojak is visually presented in the title sequences. This is why we characterise this aspect of visual message as mythical and as including elements of deification. Biblical and liturgical references have been made in this context merely to illuminate and concretise this observation.

8.5 The name Kojak

KOJAK is a name which in itself is more than just a name. Kojak producer Matthew Rapf recounts:

‘No-one quite remembers where the name Kojak came from, but we needed a good, hard-sounding two syllable name’ (Newsweek 760816: 38)

However, hardness is not the only associative property of the name as we shall see from a discussion of its orthography and pronunciation.

8.5.1 Orthography

There is nothing strange about the look of the name Kojak to inhabitants of Scandinavia, Germany or Eastern Europe since combinations of the letters KO, OJ, JA and AK are relatively common in the languages of that part of the world. Pronunciation might cause some trouble to speakers of Germanic languages and Finns, but most Eastern Europeans (including Hungarians but not Romanians) should have little difficulty in pronouncing the word as [k:odZak]. However, the name both looks (orthography) and sounds (pronunciation) quite different to speakers of English and Latin languages.

Both K and J are comparatively uncommon letters in English orthography and since they constitute 60% of the written name it seems probable that they will make the word look rather un-English. No word of indigenous English origin starts with the letter combination KO or ends in AK. English prefers to spell the sounds /kç/, /ko˘/, /kçU/ as CO- and /Qk/ or /ak/ as -ACK. All words in the Pocket Oxford Dictionary starting with KO- can be traced to a number of different foreign sources, such as German, Arabic, Turkish and Chinese. Words ending in -AK seem to have equally exotic etymologies. The combination -OJ- is also highly unusual in English, English orthography tending to represent such sounds as /çj/, /çI/, /oI/ by the written diphthong -OI- as in voice, or -OY- as in boy, and sounds like /çdZ/ or /o˘dZ/ as -ODG- + vowel (e.g. lodge), or as -OG + vowel (e.g. in gorge). Thus the only one of the four pairs of consecutive letters in the written name Kojak which seems to be part of standard English orthography is -JA-, and even that is unusual in the middle of a word. This means that all letter pairs in the name are either foreign to standard English spelling or quite unusual.

8.5.2 Pronunciation

We shall assume standard English pronunciation of Kojak to be [k:oUdZQk] (USA) or [k:çUdZQk], or perhaps [k:´UdZQk], (UK). These and other variants of the unreduced English O sound will hereafter be standardised as /oU/. The name is dominated by the phoneme /k/, a strong (fortis), accented, aspirated, velar plosive, as initial sound, unaspirated and unaccented as final consonant. Its ‘hard’ character may be attributable to its fortis (non lenis), unvoiced, non-continuant, non-lateral, non-fricative, non-nasal mode of pronunciation. It is a plosive consonant produced ‘as the air escapes with force upon the sudden separation of the velar closure’.

In this context it is interesting to note how the majority of monosyllabic morphemes starting and ending with /k/ and including one of the ‘Kojak’ vowels have meanings whose common denominator is hardness: clack, clock, cock, coke, crack, crock, croak; only cloak shows divergence from this semantic pattern.

English words starting with the sounds /koU/ or /ko˘/ are common and exhibit no distinct common semantic traits whereas the combination [koUdZ] seems to be the initial combination of phonemes in one word only: cogent [k:oUdZÇnt] (= compelling assent, convincing) and its nominal derivative cogency [k:oUdZÇnsI]. Similarly, whereas /Qk/ is the final phonemic combination in a variety of monosyllabic morphemes with no discernible semantic common denominators, the final combination [dZQk] occurs only in the proper noun Jack, the noun jack and derivatives of these two (see table 8-2).

If we observe bi- and trisyllabic words in English which are assonant with Kojak (i.e. /oU/ or /ç/ as first vowel and ending with /Qk/, we discover words such as Slovak, Kodak, Vodiak, Ostiak, Polack, zodiac and Potomac, all of which share either ‘un-Englishness’ or modernity as common semantic denominators.

/dZ/, which ends the first syllable and/or starts the second is a lenis, voiced, palato-alveolar affricate. It is a longer, ‘warmer’ sound than the unvoiced /k/, but not as soft as the fricatives /S/ and /Z/, the non-fricatives and glides /m/, /n/, /N/, the lateral /l/, the continuant /r/ or the semi-vowels /w/ and /j/. However, both /k/ and /dZ/ are phonemes which frequently recur in the nomenclature of North American heroes, for while Kit Carson, Clark Kent, McCloud, McAhan, McCoy, Jessie James, Jungle Jim and Buck Rogers may be considered phonetically suitable names for the Hercules of Hollywood, we would hardly expect our he-men to bear names based on sounds like mim, mam, nin, nan, lill, loll, pip, sip, etc.

8.5.3 Other aspects

We should also consider aspects of the name Kojak which are not directly related to its spelling or pronunciation. It is quite possible for Kojak [k:oUdZQk] to be an americanisation of the Polish surname Kodziak [k:çdZak]. This might place our bald-headed hero in the same anti-hero category as Columbo (Italian American) or Baretta (Harlem Latin), i.e. outside the WASP tradition and its either Anglo-American or middle to upper-class connotations (e.g. Philip Marlowe, Ellery Queen, The Saint). This aspect of the name Kojak places our hero outside this more traditionally cultured sphere (his dapper attire notwithstanding) and tallies well with the protagonist’s ‘cop slang’, his familiarity with street life and his brusque social manner. Despite the Greek-American origins of Savalas himself, apparent in Kojak’s first name, Theocrates (meaning divine ruler and shortened to ‘Theo’), the generally non-Anglo-American, possibly Polish origin of the name Kojak seems to be a feasible interpretation, not least because of an earlier TV series entitled Wojak (from Polish Wodżiak, Woczak, Wojak, Łodżak, etc.). Wojak was the name of a tough, fair-minded, conscientious, Polish-Canadian coroner from Toronto in a TV series of the same name which was shown on US and British television in the late sixties. So Kojak, if not a plagiarism, may also be regarded as the continuation of an already existing trend in the nomenclature of television anti-heroes.

Table 8-2 Orthographic, phonetic and semantic parallels to ‘Kojak’

Criterion of similarity Comparative names and words [phonetically] (with explanation)

Orthography:

‘k’, vowel, consonant, ‘ak’ †.…Korak [k:orQk] (son of Tarzan), …Kossak [k:çsQk], ¾˜Kodak [k:çUdQk], ~…Kulak [k:u˘lQk] (hard-headed Russian peasant), …Kazak [kQz:Qk] (from Kazakhstan), …kayak [k:AjQk] (Inuit canoe)

Assonance

…/o/ … /Qk/ …Vodiak [v:çdZQk] (Inuit people), …Ostak [:çstQk] (Inuit people), …¾˜~Pontiac [p:çntIQk] (Native Americans, type of car), …˜Potomac [p´t:çUmQk] (Native Americans, US river), …Cognac, …Slovak, …˜Novak, …Polack, …¾ zodiac

/k/, /a/ or /o/, /k/ . ~cock (all meanings), ~coke, ˜¾Coke, ~clack, ~Ncrack, ~Ncroak

Jack/jack [dZQk] . Jack, . † Jack Tar, N. ~Jack the Ripper, . ~Jack Frost, ~†N. Jack Johnson (boxer, grenade), ~N. Jack Ketch (the executioner), ~jack (flag), ~jack (machine), N~jackboot, N~jack-knife, ¾N hi-jack, ¾N sky-jack,

North American media heroes —

/k/ and /dZ/ †˜. Kit Carson, †˜. Jessie James, †. Jungle Jim,

†˜¾. Clark Kent, †˜. MacAhan, †˜. McCloud, †˜. McCoy, †˜¾. Buck Rogers, †…˜. Wojak

 

Leaving aside the possible ‘deificatory’ connotations of Kojak’s first name, the observations made about his more frequently employed surname may be schematised as in figure 36. From this figure and from the discussion above we may conclude that the name Kojak is composed of orthographic, phonetic and semantic common denominators which can be summarised as follows:

1. exotic, un-English (Kazak, Kulak, kayak);

2. Slavonic, americanised (Novak, Slovak, Wojak, Kodziak, Polack);

3. strong and heroic (Kit Carson, Jessie James, Clark Kent, Korak);

4. hard and powerful (cock, crack, jack, cogent) and possibly;

5. modern (Kodak, Tarmac, Pontiac).

8.6 Personality and environment

Our analysis has up to this point mainly been concerned with the interpretation of items of musical and visual code in the title sequences to Kojak. Apart from the presentation of syntagmatic significance (§9) we have yet to discuss two points of paramusical meaning which are not necessarily directly related to the actual AO, but which can throw some light on its meaning in the same way as our account of transmitter and receiver in the communication process relevant to the AO. We are referring here to aspects of Kojak’s personality and environment as communicated not only in the actual title sequences, but also in the subsequent action.

8.6.1 Kojak’s personality

A number of comments have already been made about Kojak as a personality. Even the viewer watching the series for the first time will at least know that Kojak is a New York police detective. From the visual sequences described earlier the viewer may also realise that Kojak is presented as [1] a thinker (VS1,7), [2] a pleasant, friendly person (VS3), [3] a man of action and bravery (VS4), [4] exposed to danger (VS4,5), [5] smartly dressed (VS4,6b), [6] superhuman (VS6).

Those who have already seen a few episodes will also have found out that Kojak is also presented as [7] street-wise, a user of slang, [8] straight and ‘no nonsense’, anti-bureaucratic, [9] sexy and [10] realistic, authentic.

All these obviously conflicting personal traits of Kojak’s have been well documented in newspaper articles. Let us take each of these ten points and see how they compare with descriptions of his personality put forward elsewhere.

Trait 1: Kojak is a non-violent thinker

‘Kojak solves problems inside his head, not with his gun... He even gives criminology lectures at a college somewhere in New York’

(Dagens Nyheter 760208: 38-40).

‘Kojak uses violence only in the last resort... there are other ways of resolving conflicts in society: diplomacy, psychology, understanding’ (ibid.).

Trait 2: Kojak is a pleasant, friendly person

‘Lt. Theocrates Kojak, that big-hearted New York City cop’ (Newsweek 760816: 36).

‘Kojak has lots of little human characteristics. He is considerate and thoughtful like the policemen in Ed MacBain’s books he sees his job as social work. His compassion and understanding are always there, somewhere in the backgrounds when he investigates crime and chases criminals’ (Expressen 760627: 38).

Trait 3: Kojak is a man of action, strong and hard

‘Armed with a gun and lollipops he spreads fear in the underworld’

(Hufvudstadsbladet 760801: 6).

‘The scene is a police precinct house in Manhattan. Kojak is pacing the floor angrily: a cop has been gunned down... Kojak believes in the law, but also that the law is not enough. “Pressure! That’s the answer” he roars, waving a thick finger in the faces of his loyal squad... ‘Hit ’em hard! If they ask for the time of day, book ’em as a public nuisance, if they sneeze in the subway, bust their chops’ (Newsweek 760816: 36).

‘Tough and cynical... Kojak reflects our aggressiveness without giving us any context for our frustrations’ (Ord och Bild, April 1977: 10).

‘On average, some kind of violence occurred every 22 minutes’ [in all the 26 detective series being analysed] ‘whereas the figure was every 10 minutes for the Kojak series alone’ (Swedish Broadcasting Standards Council, 1977).

Trait 4: Kojak is exposed to danger

‘A cop has been gunned down by one of the gangsters who roam the city like roaches’ (Newsweek 760816: 36).

Trait 5: Kojak dresses smartly

‘dapper’ (ibid.)

‘But what about the expensive suits bought on Fifth Avenue? How can he change three times a day with his average police salary?’ ‘That’s one of Kojak’s secrets which I’m not going to reveal’ (Savalas in Dagens Nyheter 760208: 34-40).

Trait 6. Kojak is superhuman, unrealistic, continually victorious

‘In American TV the policeman must always be the hero. Unfortunately that isn’t always true in real life, but when you write for television you write by a formula in which the hero — let’s take Kojak for example — he must do what they call ‘drive the action’, he must solve the crime, he must emerge victorious over the forces of evil and this is very standard for all police dramas’ (Edward Bunker, 1976).

‘The new Kojak prevents murders left, right and centre, though always at the last minute just before the final commercial’ (Ord och Bild, April 1977: 11).

‘Savalas has changed Kojak into an omnipotent, god-like, unrealistic figure. I don’t want to be part of it any longer’ (Abbey Mann, cited in Aftonbladet 770827: 37).

‘These films ought to be shown at police colleges to show students what the job is not like’. ‘Kojak too?’ ‘Yes, at least parts of it’

(Police Officer Juan Torrez, cited in Dagens Nyheter, 760828: 38-40).

Trait 7: Kojak is realistic

‘Savalas himself believes it is the very ordinariness of his Kojak character that appeals to viewers and allows them to identify with them in a way they cannot with most actors playing cops – who look like actors playing cops’ (Newsweek 760816: 36)

‘The New York police have told me they think Kojak is realistic and authentic’… ‘The Kojak series reflects life as it really appears to a New York cop’

(Savalas in Expressen 750912).

Trait 8: Kojak is streetwise a user of slang

‘He hardly ever gets out his gun. Instead he uses his knowledge of street life’

(Savalas in Newsweek 760816: 38).

‘The dialogue in Kojak is spiced with colourful expressions that derive from the New York City streets, the banter of cops, the underworld, the drug culture and from star Telly Savalas’s own fertile imagination’ (Newsweek 760816: 36).

Trait 9: Kojak is straight, no-nonsense, anti-bureaucratic

‘Kojak believes in the law, but he sometimes believes that the law is not enough’

(Newsweek 760816: 38).

‘Kojak gets things done by cutting the red tape’ (Tel-Aviv financier, loc. cit.).

Trait 10: Kojak is sexy

‘I have to shave my head. The girls wouldn’t like me with hair. My sex appeal is all in my bald head’ (Savalas in Expressen 750316: 22).

‘Telly is stuck with the label: Hollywood’s sex symbol for women over forty’

(Expressen 750912).

‘Pontius Pilate’s egghead became an unexpected-sex symbol.... Women tear his hat off and kiss his bald pate’. (Hufvudstadsbladet 760801: 6).

‘Women in particular seem to seek Telly out, although there are some who consider him the most unlikely sex symbol since Henry Kissinger. “He is manly and earthy”, says Shumi Ryu, a young Tokyo woman. And another Tokyo woman puts it more bluntly: “whatever he is doing, the mood is sexy”’ (Newsweek 760816: 39).

There are obvious contradictions in the presentation and reception of Kojak as a personality. These may be summed up in three main pairs of opposites:

1. Non-violent thinker and pleasant, friendly person « a strong, hard man of action; no nonsense.

2. Smartly dressed in expensive suit and coat « policeman on a lieutenant’s salary, ‘streetwise’, a user of slang.

3. Realistic, authentic, ordinary « superhuman, unrealistic, always victorious.

Moreover, Kojak’s sex appeal is probably full of contradictions if we consider the ‘brute-force’ executioner archetype described in VS1 and might make an interesting subject for further research. However, we cannot at this stage undertake a more detailed discussion of the manifestly paradoxical presentation and reception of Kojak as a personality. For the time being we will therefore content ourselves with the mere registration of these contradictory personal characteristics. They should be borne in mind when we come to describe the relationship of musical to paramusical meaning towards the end of this dissertation.

8.6.2 Kojak’s environment

Although not so contradictory as his personality, Kojak’s environment is nevertheless depicted from several paradoxical angles. In the visual sequences (see chapter 7) New York, devoid of human beings apart from Kojak, was presented from the air in radiant sunlight (VS2), in dramatic wide-angle perspective (VS3), from ground level at a distance in sunlight (VS4) and as dark and exciting, perhaps even threatening (VS5). In the Kojak episodes following the titles, the sets are often filled with people, cars and bustling activity, much of the shooting being actually done on location in New York (Newsweek 760816: 38). In the original pilot film and in the episode from which our video recording is taken, we are shown members both of the privileged capitalist class and of New York’s lumpenproletariat: we are shown both luxury apartments and ghettoes, riches and poverty. We are also shown the run-down police precinct headquarters and introduced to the rough and ready behavioural patterns of cops and street people. However, there seems to be some confusion and ambiguity in the way these environmental and social contrasts are portrayed: despite an ostensibly ‘realistic’ approach, obscure value judgements are either inferred by means of such Kojakian statements as ‘New York, you’re bankrupt but you’re beautiful’, through the visual poetry of camera angles, distances and lighting (as in the title sequences), or through the totality of the plot formula in which the fictitious version of the realities of socioeconomic injustice and misery serve primarily as an obligatory, picturesque backdrop for Kojak’s straight, streetwise, heroic and compassionate actions of mercy.

We do not, however, intend to discuss these aspects of Kojak’s relationship to his environment by comparing them to the relationship of real individuals to similar environments. Instead we shall summarise the ambiguous manner of presenting crime in New York (Kojak’s environment) as something simultaneously negative (bewildering, unpredictable, threatening – hence undesirable) and positive (exciting, challenging – hence desirable). The presentation is also inconsistent in terms of viewing angle (p.O.V.), and the paradoxical state of affairs is further symbolised in the visual message of the title sequences by the juxtaposition of sunny skyscrapers (VSs 1, 2, 3, 6) against ‘New York in the dark’ (VSs 1, 5, 7, VS4 – Kojak frame).

8.7 Conclusions

After this additional discussion of paramusical message connected either directly with the title music under analysis or generally immanent in the stories following it on each occasion it is presented, we may summarise some of our findings in the following four contradictions:

1. [a] Kojak’s environment is threatening (negative).

[b] Kojak’s environment is exciting (positive).

2. [a] Kojak’s clothing is high class and expensive.

[b] Kojak is an underpaid policeman whose name, jargon and behavioural norms correspond poorly with those of the leisured classes.

3. [a] Kojak is a non-violent, thinking type: he is friendly, benevolent, understanding and compassionate.

[b] Kojak is a hard, strong man of action who cuts red tape and by-passes the law. He looks like the archetypal executioner or well-tailored hired killer. There is more violence in the Kojak series than in many other police dramas.

4. [a] Kojak is always involved in dangerous situations. He is portrayed realistically in an authentic environment with authentic behavioural norms.

[b] Kojak is always victorious at the end of every episode. He is a superhuman, unrealistic, deified and mythical hero figure.

It would obviously be impossible to reflect all of these contradictory and often highly concrete paramusical characteristics in fifty seconds of title music. However, from our analysis of individual musematic meaning (chapter 6) it seems likely that certain affective aspects of the contradictions enumerated above will be emphasised at the expense of others. It will therefore be interesting to see what the role of the signature theme will be when we have determined which affective parts of the various contradictions are reflected in the music. Still, before we proceed to this task it is necessary to discuss the syntagmatic significance of the Kojak theme, both musically and visually, in order to ascertain in which way the order and amount of musical and visual material presented determines the relative importance of the individual codal archetypes in a processual context.

 

 

 

a)

9 The Significance of Syntagmatic Structure

9.1 Theory

So far we have directed our attention towards the interpretation of individual musemes and museme stacks by means of interobjective comparison and hypothetical substitution. Although we have already mentioned certain processual aspects of visual message (§7) we have yet to put most musemes in some kind of syntagmatic perspective and to describe their relative importance and function as parts of the total structure of the whole analysis object.

9.1.1 Congeneric and extrageneric analysis

We have previously argued that not only traditional techniques of musical analysis but also the formalist approach of certain music semioticians have both tended to concentrate on congeneric (ethic, non-referential, intradisciplinary) aspects of musical expression at the expense of extrageneric (ethic, referential, hermeneutic, intradisciplinary) aspects (see §§2.1.6, 3.1, 3.2.4). We also argued that the neglect of extrageneric interpretation could be seen as a sort of music expert’s vocational disorder whose main symptoms were: (i) the inability or lack of will to associate items of musical code to extramusical phenomena; (ii) an adhesion to musical notation as the only viable form of stored music and source for analysis (see §2.1.6); (iii) a fixation on certain parameters of musical expression, mostly syntagmatic rather than paradigmatic aspects, since the former seem to be more important in art music than in popular music, coupled with some degree of nonchalance towards the latter, relatively unimportant (or ignored) in the analysis of art music, but extremely important in popular music. The basis of our criticism of these formalist tendencies in musical analysis is, in other words, that they seem to disregard the possibility of correspondence between musical signifier and signified. Such a stance leads in effect to the dismissal of the idea of musical discourse as a system of communication. Neglect or negation of relationships between musical signifier and signified amounts by definition to a neglect or negation of relationships between musical discourse and anything outside it. To put it shortly: if an item of musical code means something (i.e. represents more than just its own objective occurrence in the material world, its signifier), then an important part of a music analyst’s work should be directed towards finding out what it means (i.e. what it represents apart from its own physical occurrence, what it signifies, its signified). Conversely, if music involves no signification, no relationship to anything outside itself, and if it contains no musemes, then it can communicate nothing.

It should be clear by now that we regard music as a communicative system containing signifiers representing extragenerically explicable (but not explicit) signifieds and that this two-way system of rapports de signification can exhibit varying degrees of complexity and ambiguity. This is why the main part of this thesis has concentrated upon the discussion of relationships between individual items of musical code (musemes) as signifiers of a comparatively independent character (i.e. they can occur elsewhere in similar guise and circumstance in music) and their respective signifieds (i.e. their respective ‘meanings’ or specific areas of extrageneric connotation connected with and corresponding to the occurrence of their individual signifiers). This elemental, musematic level of analysis is, we have contended, all too frequently overlooked and the extrageneric type of analysis carried out so far may be seen as an attempt to redress the balance to some extent. However, extrageneric analysis is, as we shall see, only one side of the matter.

It seems logical to assume that congeneric aspects of musical discourse, concerned with syntagmatic features of musical discourse, will be dealing with passages and sections containing musematic permutations which in proportion to increasing duration will become more and more exclusively applicable to only one particular piece of music — a process incompatible with the techniques of comparative interpretation we have presented here, unless these are applied first. Admittedly, parallels of syntagmatic signification may be drawn at the abstract level of total formal construction (A-A-B, A-B-A, etc.) but at intermediate levels, i.e. almost anywhere between museme and musical work (MW) it would seem that permutations of precisely defined musemes and their combined affective meaning will be more or less unique for each particular piece of music. This observation is supported by the fact that we have found a number of musemes in our IOCM which were practically identical to those in our AO while no such degree of resemblance was found in larger musematic combinations.

It should be clear that we have so far exclusively dealt with units of musical meaning containable and expressible within the limits of what we shall call ‘present time’ (see §9.1.2, p.291). Obviously, there is no room here to go into any detail about the various psychological, philosophical and musicological theories about the properties of musical time. We shall therefore take the liberty of referring the reader to existing literature on this subject: Brelet (1949), Lissa (1965, 1969), Anselm (1973) etc. For similar reasons we find it necessary to omit a discussion of the multitude of approaches towards the understanding of musical form and its perceptual concomitants, such as recognition, expectation, redundancy and saturation; even a discussion of semiological models applied to syntagmatic aspects of musical discourse is also beyond the scope of this dissertation. However, although we have contended that formal (syntagmatic, constructional, congeneric) aspects of analysis have been given unwarranted pride of place in traditional musicology at the expense of the treatment of music as a communicative codal system containing comparatively independent items of musical code (IMCs) — all of which presupposes emphasis on paradigmatic, emic and extrageneric analysis —, we do not maintain in any way that congeneric and intramusical organisation plays some sort of subordinate part in the expression of musical meaning. On the contrary it is of paramount importance if we are to understand the total message of any particular musical work, since different constructions and permutations in the presentation of musical material will exert radical influence upon the relative importance of individual musemes and thereby be able to modify their meaning to varying degrees when presented as component parts of a syntagmatic construction. In other words, the state of opposition which seems to exist between extrageneric and congeneric approaches to understanding music would appear to be academic and non-antagonistic. We consider extrageneric and congeneric methods of tackling the analysis of musical ‘meaning’ to be complementary, not contradictory.

9.1.2 Present time and passing time

As stated above, we have no intention of treating the complicated issue of musical time and its perception in any detail in this thesis. However, we should at least present some sort of working definition of two terms which we shall be using: these are the concepts present time and passing time. This in turn requires a short introductory explanation.

The linear mode of time perception as unidimensional movement from the infinitely past to the infinitely future via the objectively non-existent present (an abstract, infinitesimal point on the abstract and infinitely long one-dimensional time axis) can to a certain extent be seen as a historical consequence of increased literacy and the advent of printing. Reading, writing and printing as material phenomena present ideas as unidimensional trains of thought and processes, i.e. from left to right in Western culture, from right to left in Semitic script and vertically in the case of East Asian ideograms. Some writers see in this phenomenon an explanation of the current epistemological dualism between, on the one hand, unidimensional ‘objective’, cognitive rationalism (as expressed in such models as past ® present ® future, beginning ® middle ® end, thesis ® antithesis ® synthesis) and what, on the other hand, might be called multi-dimensional, ‘subjective’ or intuitive types of thought. This latter half of the epistemological dualism can be exemplified by reference to visual art in pre-literate society where emphasis does not necessarily have to be placed on ‘objective’ representation by means of ‘realistic’ perspective, ‘correct’ proportions, etc., but allows the coding of social, ethical, sensual, and emotional elements to determine the actual formation of the concrete communicative material in its physical, objective state. The prevalent academic tradition in the West (in whose spirit, paradoxically, this thesis has been written) appears to favour the positivist, rationalist half of the epistemological dualism and seems sometimes ill equipped to deal with the analysis of objects of communication which are not and cannot be coded or decoded along the one-dimensional time axis. Apart from adding a new perspective to our critique of exclusive congeneric formalism and unbridled hermeneutics, both one-sided and partisan in their approach to music, the notion of this epistemological dualism can also lead to a better understanding of musical time and its effects on the perception of musical message.

It has already been pointed out that we have so far exclusively dealt with aspects of musical expression containable within the limits of ‘present time’. By present time in music we mean part or whole of a musical statement which ‘objectively’ occupies a certain length of passing time, but which can be experienced and is often perceived as an integral entity, a musical object outside the flow of time and perceived not in terms of duration (i.e. lasting from point a to point b), but as ‘now’, without reference to the passing of time outside the music.

In chapter three (§3.2.1) we drew parallels between the notion of a film frame and basic elements of musical meaning as minimal items of expression ‘objectively’ occupying fractions of a second in duration but simultaneously being independent ‘stills’ of frozen movement and therefore objects of communication concretising present time. However, we do not need to resort to such small elements of musical expression occupying minuscule durations in order to exemplify what we mean by present time in music. Just as our concept of museme stacks can be regarded as exemplifying the ‘now’, ‘all at once’, ‘present time’ as well as individual musemes or elemental museme components (see §4.2.4), an MP is also, according to our working definition, containable within the present-time experience in music. Our assumption is, in other words, that the present-time or ‘now’ experience of musical perception is limited as an objective duration of up to about ten seconds. In the case of MPs, present time (generally speaking an ‘objective’ duration of, on average, between two and eight seconds) may be compared to the duration of a normal, simple, spoken sentence without lengthy subordinate clauses, or to the duration of a normal exhalation, i.e. the physical time limit for the duration of a spoken sentence or a musical phrase when sung or performed on a wind instrument. Obviously, there is no precisely definable limit for this notion of present time, but just as it would be improbable to connect the perception of such a spoken statement as ‘I hope this thesis will soon be finished’ to the space of time required to effectuate its statement (about three seconds), we hold it equally unlikely that the statement of the first melodic phrase of the Kojak theme will be experienced with reference to the passing time occupied by its performance (5.4 seconds). Instead we shall assume it to be experienced as a unit containable within present time when it occurs in its context of the total flow of music of which it is part.

None of the argument above refutes the tenet that the order in which component parts of musical message are presented is instrumental in determining musical meaning. Even if an MP (musical phrase) is containable within the present-time experience of musical perception it is still a compound syntagmatic unit of musical code. We shall therefore, in the rest of our analysis, distinguish between museme strings containable within present time and, on the other hand, units of musical expression occupying longer durations than those containable within the limits of present-time experience in music. This means that the latter category of units of musical expression, i.e. all discretisable sections of music higher up the hierarchy of syntagmatic complexity, will be connected to passing time and be contingent on their intra-objective musical ‘past’ and ‘future’, whereas MPs, when treated as isolated phenomena outside their context as components of an MS (musical section) or MW (musical work), will not possess properties of intra-objective musical ‘past’ and ‘future’. This distinction may seem academic since it is clearly impossible to treat MPs in isolation from their congeneric or intra-objective context. However, this division of musematic processes into those containable and not containable within the limits of present-time perception in music is a necessary step in the analytical process because you cannot discuss the affective message of an MS or MW if their constituent components are not properly understood.

We shall therefore now proceed to analyse the musical phrases of the Kojak theme, treating them initially as individual, independent museme strings containable within the present time experience, thereafter as component parts in the passing time experience.

9.2 The interpretation of musical phrases

(present-time perception)

We shall base our interpretation of affect in musical phrases on two models, one of which is an adaptation of the sort of tree diagram used in Chomskian linguistics, the other a product of a more home-grown character. It is beyond the scope of this thesis to present a critical discussion of existing literature on the application of modern linguistics in general and transformational grammar in particular to the epistemology of music. However, we are in agreement with Lerdahl & Jackendoff (1977), Keiler (1978) and Stoïanova (1978) who have pointed to the fact that models constructed to visualise the content and semantic functions of verbal language cannot be transplanted without considerable modification to the understanding of music. Nevertheless, there is no reason to assume that the use of tree diagrams visualising generative aspects of communication are the sole property of the discipline of linguistics and we intend to present a model which will help clarify the congeneric function of musemes inside individual melodic phrases. Such a model will, of course, only be able to account for one horizontal strand of music at a time and we shall be using a model based on the ideas presented in connection with the interpretation of affective paradigms when dealing with museme stacks (see §6.4, figures 12 - 14, p.223).

We shall present our model for the syntagmatic interpretation of melodic phrases by looking at the first 3 bars of Mozart’s G minor symphony (K.550, ex. 184). We shall work from the basic premise that a musical phrase consists of at least two musemes which through their consecutive position will be related to each other, as shown in figure 35.

Fig. 35 Deep structure of melodic phrases

Ex. 184. Mozart: Symphony no. 40 in G minor (K550), first melodic phrase (surface structure)

Our hypothesis is that most musical phrases can be boiled down to two elements, each consisting of one or two musemes, in a ‘deep structure’: the initial and terminal motifs (‘IM’ and ‘TM’ in fig. 35). Whatever is transmitted in the surface structure depends on what transformations the deep structure is subjected to. This means neither that transformations are carried out by the composer or performer in any particular order, nor that ‘deep structures’ actually exist at any conscious level of thought; this model of presenting the generation of melodic phrases should instead be regarded as a theoretical construct for purposes of analysis and understanding, not for describing actual processes behind the practical invention and production of musical ideas. According to the diagram above (fig. 35) and the generative analysis of example 184 (fig. 36), the first transformation of deep structure involves the choice of pitch idea and accentual direction. The basic questions are: what is the most important pitch in the IM and TM? Do these pitches occur at the beginning or at the end of their respective motif? Are they approached in any way from below, above or from the same pitch level? Do they lead upwards, downwards or to the same pitch? As far as example 174 is concerned, it will be seen that the IM is a slight downward movement from a non-accent (È) to an accent (—) on d4: . The TM on the other hand () consists of an upward movement from an accentuated d4 to a non-accent higher than the non-accent of the IM. This gives the basic TM . Depending on the musical heritage of the transmitter and the cultural sphere of the audience, the musical message to be communicated then undergoes transformation through choice of melodic vocabulary: in this case the (harmonic) scale of G minor. This specifies the pitches of the IM to e$ and d, those of the TM to d and b$. After this, other transformations take place. An accentual emphasis by anticipation in the IM could have resulted in such figures as and many others.

However, the nature of the tonal language and the type of musical message to be communicated lead to the choice of version (c) as more suitable than figures which resemble a march (a) or rock music (b). In most MPs, some part of the material must be expanded in some way. One of the most common ways of expanding an IM or TM is by repetition. In the European musical tradition at least, double repetition of one motif (triple occurrence) and single statement of the other (single occurrence) seems to be a common solution, possibly because of tendencies to subjugate the presentation of musical ideas to groups of equal duration adding up to multiples of four (quadratic periodicity). Thus an MP consisting of three motifs of equal duration and including one repetition only, such as , may be considered less common than MPs consisting of four motifs (including deletions by assimilation of consecutive accents) — .

Fig. 36. Generative analysis of first melodic phrase in Mozart's 40th symphony (K550)

This type of double repetition can occur in both IM and TM. Its propulsive character, already discussed (§6.2.3), can direct movement towards the TM, as in the Mozart example or in the first melodic phrase of the Kojak theme when the transformation takes place in the IM. It can also lead towards either the final note of the phrase or into the subsequent phrase if the propulsive double repetition is placed in the TM. In other words, any motif appearing after a double repetition, i.e. when the time for its third repetition arrives (its fourth occurrence), is accentuated because a chain of repetitions is broken. Strictly speaking, the transformation of the initial motif in the Mozart example will give us:. However, the final accent of a È — motif may be elided with the initial accent of a — È motif. Such a transformation can be called deletion by assimilation or elision (‘Ø’ = zero). This transformation begins to make the melodic phrase a little more like its surface structure: .

Accents may then be emphasised in a number of ways: anticipation has already been mentioned. The most common way of emphasising accents, however, would seem to be by prolongation, that is to say by increasing the duration of the tone on which the accent occurs in relation to the non-accents in the same motif. Such prolongation seems often to be effectuated by abbreviating the time values of non-accents. Such abbreviation is carried out in the Mozart example in two ways: the non-accents of the IM are shortened to half the length of the accent while the non-accent in the TM is shortened by means of phrasing conventions.

After this transformation of accentual emphasis we have distributed the accents of the musical phrase at equidistant intervals from each other along the unidimensional axis of passing time. This metrication process, including the choice of tempo and size of equal durations between main accents, is influenced by such considerations as lyrics, simultaneous extramusical movement and, in the absence of these factors, by the norms of the musical culture to which the MW belongs.

In the case of our demonstration example (fig. 36) this transformation results in the three-bar phrase . Now, this three bar phrase does not conform to standard periodic norms, so one might imagine extending the phrase to make it fill four bars instead . This extension might be a good idea in a responsorial passage or genre (it is, for example, common practice in blues). However, the three bar phrase can also be reduced in length to make it fill two bars. In this case we shall have to delete an equal number of rests at both ends of the phrase, thus: .

After this the only remaining transformations are those of instrumentation, phrasing, interpretation, dynamics, etc. This will lead to an establishment of the musical surface structure cited in figure 36 (p. 295) and in example 184 (p. 294).

A generative analysis of the second, third and fourth melodic phrases in the same symphony will show similar transformations of new pitch ideas. These pitch ideas and their transformation to surface structure can in turn be seen as the result of two new types of transformation: rhythmic repetition or isorhythmic symmetry and symmetry of pitch direction or melodic contour. These two processes combine to create what might be called sequential transformation. However, the demonstration of our model for analysis of the syntagmatic significance of musical phrases presented above should provide enough information about our modus operandi. We shall therefore now proceed to analyse the musical phrases of the Kojak theme, attempting to show the function and relative importance of musemes and their affect as syntagmatic phenomena inside the limits of present time perception. We shall be using the type of tree diagram presented above and the model discussed earlier in this thesis (pp.185-186, 223) which visualises the relation of melody (figure) to accompaniment (background, environment).

9.2.1 Musical phrase 1 [b.1-5]

We have on previous occasions commented on the ambiguity in MP1 as to whether the melodic figure is in the horn or bass part. Assuming the majority of melodic material in MP1 to be found in the bass part, since the dotted crochet figure m1b4 (b.2,4) is a direct transposition of m1b1 and m1b2 (both obvious melodic motifs), but regarding the initial horn whoop (m1a2) to be also of a melodic character, the syntagmatic pattern of MP1 can be generated from MP2 as shown in fig. 37.

Fig. 37. Transformation of Kojak theme MP2 into MP1

The melodic musemes of MP2 were found to possess the following affective properties: m1a1(a) — call to attention and action; strong movement upwards and outwards; virile, energetic, heroic (see §6.2.1-2); m1b1 — undulating, swaying, emphasising consonance; strong, confident; preparing for and leading for what comes afterwards (§6.2.3); m1c1(a) — fanfare, strength, breadth, boldness, martial, masculine, individual, heroic (§6.2. 4).

As may be seen in figure 37, m1a1(a) has been both transposed up a perfect fourth and had its upbeat lengthened to become m1a2 as it appears in MP1. We may assume that this heightening and lengthening of the museme puts it in stronger relief than in MP2. Its increased audibility through increased intensity of pitch and duration, together with its position as the initial motif of the whole piece, moreover in middle pitch range, may be considered as important points contributing to increase its intrinsic affect as m1a2 in relation to m1a1(a).

Museme1b1, on the other hand, has undergone more radical transformations to become m1b4 in MP1. It (m1b1) has: (i) changed instruments; (ii) been transposed down a twelfth, thereby altering its relation to tonic root position from fifth to prime; (iii) changed phrasing and interpretation from legato e cantabile to staccato e pesante; (iv) become a single instead of double repetition; (v) lost m1a1 as its upbeat figure, as in MP2, and is preceded instead by m4a (a$-g). These transformations from MP2 to MP1 alter the affect of m1b1 from undulating, swaying, calm, confident, etc. (legato, consonant) to jerky (staccato) and heavy (pesante). It is also possible that movement away from the tonic root ($VII®I (1) = b$®c), absent in m1b1 in MP2, may make for a slight increase in the communication of an atmosphere of unrest in comparison with the V®I bass figures found as downbeat emphasisers (m2e5a, m2e5c) in bars 6-7, 9-10, 12-13, 18-19 and 20-21.

Museme 1c is conspicuous by its absence in MP1. Admittedly, m1a1a can be derived from m1c1 by means of transposition, syncopation and slight intervallic adjustment as shown in figure 37, but the somewhat ‘threatening, energetic, aggressive, intense excitement of m2a1 (see §6.1.1.) is, as we have seen, effectively far removed from the ‘fanfare, strength, breadth, heroism’, etc. of m1c. Let us now discuss the syntagmatic meaning of these musemes.

In fig. 37 (p. 297) we saw how the downbeat accent of m1a2 (b.2:1) is elided into the first beat of m1b4 and how the first note of m2a1 coincides with that of m1b4. This elision of last with first notes and coincidence of first notes in two consecutive musemes are two ways of making continuous melodic flow, and may be interpreted as a means of leading the movement of one museme and its affective direction into the subsequent museme, with its own movement and affective direction. This directional process is emphasised by the use of repetition (m1b4 in MP1) which delays and thereby underlines continuation into the subsequent museme (m2a1). As far as MP1 is concerned we may therefore state that m1 (m1a2) leads into m2 (m1b4) which in turn, through repetition, delays and pinpoints m3 (m2a1, see §6.2.3). This gives us the following affective interpretation in verbal form.

MP1: m1(m1a2): a strong call to attention and action, a virile, energetic, heroic, strong movement upwards and outwards into

MP1: m2 (m1b4): jerky, unrestful energy propels the action into

MP1: m3 (m2a1): somewhat threatening, energetic, aggressive, intense excitement in a large North American city and its underworld and subculture.

However, this is only part of the picture. We have yet to put this order of melodic events into its environment of accompaniment and to comment upon the repetition of the phrase (b.4-5 are the same as b.2-3 while bar 1 differs). The accompaniment consists exclusively of short, quick ostinati (m2b1, m2f1) and is therefore constant throughout the whole MP. The repetition (without upbeat) of the whole phrase as two 2-bar periods is standard introductory vamp procedure (‘repeat until ready’), generally based on repetitions of accompanying ostinati divisible into periodic units of either two or four bars prior to the entry of the main melodic line. The introductory character of MP1 is emphasised by the fact that what we have defined as ‘melodic material’ in this context is not primarily performed by a typical melody instrument but by the bass parts.

We may summarise the affect of MP1 as follows (fig.38b):

Fig. 38. Relationship of figure to ground (melodic to accompanying parts) in MP1.

As a continuous sentence in verbal form, our affective interpretation of MP1 might read as follows:

A strong, energetic, heroic, bold call to attention and action upwards and outwards into jerky, energetic unrest and the uneasy, aggressive, somewhat threatening excitement of what appears to be a large North American city and its subculture, makes itself heard through, is in harmony with and then rumbles beneath general, constantly bustling activity, uneasy, agitated and insistent, but positive, pleasant, vibrant, shimmering and luminous. The movement here seems to lead onwards, introducing something.

There are obvious objections to such a verbal summary of affect. The main objections seem to be:

1. The mood, the atmosphere, the feeling, etc., conveyed in the music are not present in this clumsy sentence.

2. The same words could have been the basis for a different piece of music.

3. The summary took nearly thirty seconds to read whereas the music it was supposed to interpret took eight seconds to perform. The summary is therefore inefficient, inaccurate and non-aesthetic.

These objections are all quite sound but miss the point. We are not trying to reproduce musical message as verbal message — a vain and fruitless task — but to explain it. Perhaps we could try a more poetical rendering, such as:

Look out! You’ve been warned,

Bad guys of Brooklyn and Bronx,

Your knives, needles and fixes

Transfixing steel, plate glass and

Chrome Chevvies speeding, dazzling

Razzamataz through neon traffic

To meet..... [end of MP1]

[Start of MP2]... the man!

This version might be considered a slightly more adequate verbal rendition of the affect of MP1. However, it explains nothing. Similarly, the argument stating that the words of our affective summary could have been the basis for quite different music is also irrelevant since we are not trying to reproduce music in words. Just as the sentence ‘Göteborg is a cold, dark, damp and dull city’ might lead one individual to construct the metaphor ‘Göteborg is one long Sunday evening in December’ and another to state ‘Göteborg is a dank concrete catacomb’, it would seem absurd to claim that the original sentence was an incorrect interpretation of either of the two subsequent metaphors on the grounds that it could be expressed otherwise in more than one different way.

The final point to be made in response to our rhetorical objections to verbal summaries of musical affect is as follows: music is a medium best suited to the communication of intrinsically musical ideas. Any attempt to transpose musical ideas into verbal language is to a certain extent doomed to fail and will, at best, result in a highly inefficient and unpoetic type of communication. Indeed, the whole of this thesis bears witness to this fact because it took over two years to write these three hundred pages about a mere fifty seconds of music. However, we repeat that our aim is not to reproduce musical affect in words, solely to present methods which can lead to a greater intellectual understanding of musical communication.

9.2.2 Musical phrase 2 [b.6-8]

Our generative method of schematising the syntagmatic significance of musemes within the confines of present-time experience will be clearer from the following analysis of the melodic line in MP2 (fig. 39, p.302). The main advantage of this method is that one may visualise the affective nature of each individual museme and its role in the context of one MP. Thus we may observe, for example, that the order in which the transformed musemes occur is of prime importance for the affective meaning of the whole phrase. Obviously, permutations such as

or , will result in phrases that make musical nonsense (see example 185), not only due to several intervallic anomalies (b$4 - g2, b$4 - g3 - g2) and the need for minim rests at both ends of the phrase to mark its limits, but also because the propulsive double repetition leads the musical momentum forward into nothing.

Ex. 185 MP1’s musemes in nonsensical order

It might have been wiser to suggest a version similar to that shown as ex. 186a.

However, even example 186a conveys an affective message quite different to that of the original for the following reasons: (i) the propulsive double repetition is still part of the TM instead of the IM; (ii) the basic order of pitch ideas has been changed from to .

If we were to maintain the original pitch idea and accentual direction but change the order of transformations, letting the first pitch idea be formed by the fanfare motif and the third pitch idea by the whoop, then we might have come up with something resembling example b. Verbalisation of the affective message of example b, based on the results of the analysis in chapter 6, might run as follows:

martial, masculine, individual heroic fanfare rises to a calm, confident, strong, undulating movement towards a virile call to attention and action.

This interpretation differs little from that of the original melodic line in MP2:

a virile call to attention and action, moving upwards and outwards into a strong, calm, confident, undulating movement emphasising consonance, propels us into a martial, masculine, individualist, heroic fanfare of strength, breadth and boldness.

From this discussion it seems reasonable to conclude that pitch idea, accentual direction and repetition are important factors in the syntax of MP2; their location in the flow of the phrase appears to be instrumental in determining its total affective meaning to a large extent.

Fig. 39. Generative analysis of first full melodic line of the Kojak theme

The interpretation above is, of course, only part of the affective message of MP2 since we have yet to put the melody (figure, individual) in relation to its accompaniment (environment, surroundings). Whereas there was some doubt as to whether the horn, the bass or both were conveyors of melodic material in MP1, there seems to be no ambiguity about the melodic dominance of the horn part in MP2. There are three main factors supporting this observation

1. The horn is playing at a singable pitch (see §2.6, §6.2). Other instruments are either playing at too high (woodwind, Moog) or too low (bass) a pitch.

2. The horn in playing a fortissimo, legato cantabile phrase consisting of three main consecutive, continuous (elided) musemes. Other parts are playing either sporadic stabs (e.g. woodwind), short ostinati or reiterated notes (trombone, violin, Moog) or short staccato figures (bass).

3. The horn part occupies twelve beats of uninterrupted melodic presentation whereas the bass part’s quasi-melodic motif m1a1 only occupies six beats (one 4/4 bar plus two overlapping beats).

Fig. 40. MP2: relationship melody (figure) to accompaniment (ground)

Fig. 41. Transformation of MP2’s TM (b. 6-7) into MP3’s TM (b. 10-11)

A continuation of the periodic pattern established in MP1 might be expected to result in the rendition of MP2 shown as example 187.

Ex. 187 MP2 repeated

However, instead of this equal, balanced dialogue between horn and bass, one of the bass part’s 4/4 bars is deleted [(a) ®] and the bass part assumes the subordinate role of emphasising downbeat accents (È —) in the horn part, the uninterrupted melodic flow allowing no holes to be filled [(b) ®]. In this context it should be noted that the duple/quadruple bar periodicity of MP1 (standard ‘vamp until ready’ pattern) has now been replaced by triple bar periodicity, an abbreviation from the normal pattern of 4 × 4/4 = 16 beats to the less common 3 × 4/4 = 12 beats. An abbreviation of periodic pattern after so short a time as one ‘normal’ 4 × 4/4 period (just about sufficient for establishing a pattern of periodic expectation) would seem to increase the general intensity of MP2 in comparison to MP1, not least because MP2 presents more musical material than MP1 in 75% of the time.

Apart from these novelties in MP2 (the relation of figure to ground, change in periodicity), we should also mention the entry of the woodwind stabs (b2/m2c1), adding to the generally jerky and unpredictable affect of the accompanying environment, together with the driving, modern 3 + 3 + 2/8 = 4/4 ‘pop backing’ (m2d) provided by trombones and electric guitar 1. Using our previously presented models (fig. 39, p.302, and fig. 40, p.303, see §6.4) we shall summarise the affective message of MP2 as follows:

The same call upwards and outwards to attention and action that started the piece now reappears in a quicker, less intense form and continues itself this time into strong, confident swaying motion which propels itself onwards into something masculine, martial, broad, individual, heroic and fanfare-like. This multiple gesture stands out in bold relief against the same bustling activity and shimmering luminosity of the large North American city atmosphere we already heard (in MP1, but now more full of driving movement and punctuated by unexpected jerks). Our active, confident, heroic figure has the upper hand in a dialogue between itself and the intense, energetic, aggressive and somewhat threatening excitement of the apparently urban, sub-cultural aspects of the environment

9.2.3 Musical phrase 3

MP3 is a direct repetition of MP2 except for the end of the TM in the horn and bass parts. As can be seen in figure 41 (p. 303), the last two notes of the melody line rise to c4, leading the melodic development on towards a higher pitch. The final quaver of the bass part anticipates the new tonic root of MP4 (E$). We shall therefore assume the affect of MP3, taken as an isolated phrase, otherwise out of context, to be the same as that of MP2 apart from the extra lift given to the TM, making the fanfare figure m1c1b even broader and more heroic than that of MP2 (m1c1a).

9.2.4 Musical phrase 4 [b.12-14]

Fig. 42. Transformation of MP2 into MP4

Figure 42 shows how the first two of MP4’s three bars are a repetition of MP2’s and MP3’s first two bars (b.6-7 or 9-10), except that the upbeat whoop (m1a1) is absent in MP4 and the whole phrase has been transposed en masse up a minor third. We have already discussed this kind of harmonic change (§§6.3, 6.5.3) but should observe that when such a general harmonic lift of previously stated musical material occurs without preparatory modulation, it often has the effect of raising the intensity of presentation, catching the listener’s attention by repeating the same musical ideas at a ‘new height’, in a ‘new light’ or from a ‘new angle’. However, while the first two bars of MP4 constitute as a transposed repetition of previously stated material, its third bar (b.14) presents a number of novelties. Although these novelties can be interpreted as contextual preparations for or anticipations of MP5 (b.15-17), they nevertheless exert influence on the affective meaning of MP4. As can be seen in figure 42, the bass part’s share of melodic activity in the phrase is now one beat more than in MPs 2 and 3, as it anticipates the 3+3+2+2 quaver groupings of MP5. Such addition of new motivic material after a section of repetition and consolidation of musical ideas (MP2®3®4) can be considered as a point of interest in any musical process and will probably draw the listener’s attention to the part or parts in which such deviation from previously established musical patterns takes place. Bearing in mind our earlier descriptions of bass motifs (§6.1.1) and our comments on additive rhythm (§6.5), we may assume that towards the end of MP4 an element of increasing unrest and possible threat is added to the music. Otherwise the relationship between melody (figure) and accompaniment (ground) is identical to that in MP2 and MP3. We shall therefore summarise the affective message of MP4 as follows:

With heightened intensity, but without any call to action and attention, the same masculine, martial, broad, heroic fanfare figure, prepared once again and propelled into action by the same swaying, confident motion, stands out in equally bold relief to an equally intensified environment consisting of the same bustling activity and shimmering luminosity of a large North American city atmosphere, full of driving movement and punctuated by unexpected jerks. The active, confident, heroic figure still has the upper hand in the continuing dialogue between itself and the intense, energetic, aggressive and somewhat threatening excitement of the urban subcultural aspects of the environment, but these aspects start to play a more active part as the motion continues onwards and upwards.

9.2.5 Musical phrase 5 [b.15-17]

Fig. 43. Generative analysis of MP5

The contrasting function of MP5 has been commented on in some detail earlier in this thesis (§6.5). The principle point of divergence from preceding musical material can be clearly seen in figure 43. The most conspicuous difference between MPs l through 4 and MP5 would appear to be the fact that all transformations of repetition take place in the TM. Whereas the melodic line (horn) has only two beats of motivic material at its disposal the accompanying parts now occupy all five beats in all three of MP5’s 5/4 bars (including overlaps). We should also mention the disappearance of m2b with its ‘shimmering luminosity’ and the change in other accompanying parts from a state of relative perceptible imprecision (especially m2c, m2d, m2f) to audible precision (m3b is played marcato). Moreover, the relationship between musical figure and ground, unambiguous in MP2, 3 and 4 (i.e. three consecutive 3 × 4/4 phrases with the general affect of a heroic horn part thrown into relief by an exciting and slightly ‘threatening’ accompaniment) has become ambiguous again, as in MP1. It is even tempting to say that melody and accompaniment change places in MP5, but such a statement is only correct in a limited sense. Indeed, while it is true that the accompanying parts are more active and have much greater room for presentation of their repetitive motif than the horn part, it is, however, hardly likely, in such a short piece as the Kojak theme, for the part (voice) identified after half the piece as the obvious conveyor of the melodic line to be totally abandoned. The reason is that any new part (voice) replacing the melodic role of the horn would not have enough time to establish its new role as main musical figure when the melodic line was previously identified with a completely different instrument. Besides, it is doubtful whether m3b can be considered as melodic material. It is more fruitful to compare the ‘turning of tables’ in MP5 to a change of linguistic mood from active to passive: the subject (figure, melodic line) retains the same identity as before while the agent’s identity changes. Thus, while John is subject in both sentences ‘John hit Peter’ and ‘John was hit by Peter’, the identity of the agent differs. Similarly, while the horn part in MPs 2 through 5 is constantly melodic subject (figure, individual), it is more active, dominant, etc. only in MPs 2 through 4, becoming passive in MP5 while the accompaniment at that point changes from relative passivity to become the main musical ‘agent’.

The relationship of musical figure to ground in MP5 is shown in figure 44 and may be summarised in sentence form as follows:

something strong, individual but strained is now dominated by, more passive than, more static than, subordinate to and yet in harmony with unrest, unpredictability, threat, danger, excitement, urgency in the environment which is now more unstable, less certain and without its shimmering luminosity.

Fig. 44. MP5: relationship of melody (figure) to accompaniment (ground)

9.2.6 Musical phrases 6-7 [b.18-21]

Fig. 45. Transformation of MPs 2-4 into MPs 6-7

MP6 and MP7 are an abbreviated recapitulation of MPs 2-4. From having occupied 24 of the 39 beats constituting the original MS (MPs 2-4, b.6-14) in the exposition, the full statement of the original horn melody in C in the recapitulation (MP6) now occupies only 7 beats while the recapitulation of MP4 in MP7 shows a decrease from 15 to 8 beats. There are a number of important points of syntagmatic significance that warrant some comment.

9.2.6.1 Shortened recapitulation

The exposition of the main theme is reduced in extent in its recapitulation from a total of 39 beats to a total of 15 beats (0.385 of the original length or a 160% decrease). This does not mean to say that the recapitulation is of less importance than the exposition, nor that it occupies less subjective time from the listener’s point of view, despite the fact that its objective duration is drastically curtailed. Admittedly, the feasibility of such a hypothesis cannot be proved, but we should mention circumstantial evidence which seems to support the viability of this observation on musical perception. There are three main aspects to this evidence.

1. It is general practice in A-B-A forms to repeat the first A (exposition) but not the second (recapitulation). This results in the well-known A-A-B-A structure of sonata form, minuets (+ trio) and 32-bar jazz standards, where the recapitulation occupies half the duration of the exposition.

2. Even shorter recapitulations, almost to the extent of one single chord representing as much as a complete, previously stated musical section, may recall musical ideas and moods occupying far greater space and time than the objective duration of the reprise in its ‘part-for-whole-reminder’ form.

3. The principle of ‘part-for-whole’ may also be seen in the everyday use of proper names referring to people, places and incidents whose characteristics have been learnt over varying lengths of time but which can all be concentrated to an infinitesimal point in present time when referred to in an apposite manner at a later stage. We shall therefore assume the abbreviated recapitulation in MP6-7 to be a consummate reprise of the musical ideas stated in MP2-4. However this recapitulation is also varied and cannot therefore be considered solely as a simple abbreviated reprise.

9.2.6.2 Quicker rise of general pitch

Whereas the full statement of the main theme in the exposition occupied 62% of the total MS when played in C (MP 2-3) and 38% when played in E$, the proportions became 47% for C (MP6) and 53% for E$ (MP7) in the recapitulation. This means that despite the overall abbreviation of duration in the recapitulation, the amount of time occupied by the higher of the two tonalities (E$, MP7) is proportionately greater in the recapitulation and brings forward the general rise in pitch and intensity to an earlier point than in the exposition (see fig. 44, p.307).

9.2.6.3 Other recap novelties

A number of other novelties occur in MPs 6 and 7 which were not present in MPs 2 through 4. Three of these are: (1) the variation in harmony from Cm11 (b.6) to C11 (b.18), (2) the fuller range of sonorities occupied by the accompanying strings and (3) the deletion of both occurrences of bass museme 2a.

(1) C11, really a B$ major triad over c in the bass, is the only chord in the A section (exposition/recapitulation) of this A-B-A piece which bears much resemblance to traditional tertial sonority or which diverges from the generally quartal character of the rest of the A section’s harmony. As such it seems to lend b.18 a slightly ‘warmer’ atmosphere than bars 1-14 and 19-28. However, we have only loose grounds for this statement and any possible increase of ‘warmth’ might just as well be attributed to recap novelty (2) — the fuller pitch range of sonorities occupied by the accompanying strings. These have been transformed from m2f1 and m2f2 to m2f3 and rise sequentially from bar 18 to reach a climax with the reprise of the introduction as a coda at b.22. Finally, we should note (3) the deletion of both occurrences of bass museme 2a and its ‘aggressive, threatening’ affect from MPs 2-3: m2a occurs nowhere in the reprise of MPs 6-7 and is replaced by the downbeat emphasis figure m2e5 (with variants) which has neither contrasting nor filler function in relation to the melody (there are no melodic holes to fill in). Instead it accompanies and underlines main points of reference and accent in the melodic line.

Using figure 45, the discussion above, and models visualising the relationship of musical figure to ground, we may summarise the message of MP6-7 as follows:

The heightened unrest, unpredictability, threat, danger and excitement seem to disappear. The driving movement still continues as it has done up to this point and the temporarily passive figure now regains its previously masculine, martial, broad, individual and heroic guise. It is prepared, propelled and launched as before, by the same, quick, virile, call to attention upwards and outwards into confident motion, standing out in bold relief against the same generally agitated, unrestful, bustling activity and shimmering luminosity of the large North American city, whose energetic excitement is still punctuated by unexpected jerks but which no longer seems as threatening as before it gained the upper hand (in MP5), appearing even somewhat warmer and richer than before (MP6).

This state of affairs, relationship of moods and its driving movement soon rises to a higher general level of intensity, leading onwards, outwards and upwards as before (MPs 2-4) as if to return to yet another outburst of unrest, unpredictability, threat and danger (MP7).

9.2.7 Musical phrases 8-9 [b.22-28]

Figure 46, p.311, shows how MP8-9 are related to and can be generated from MP1 by means of the following ten transformations.

1. Recapitulation of m1a2 (whoop c3-c4), transformed by accentual prolongation (abbreviation of non-accent) into m2a1b.

2. Double repetition of m1a1b, leading to final melodic accent of piece (b.26:1).

3. Transformation of the syncopated, ‘aggressive, threatening, urgent, sub-cultural’ bass figure m2a1 into m1c2, a transposed version (down a twelfth) of the heroic horn fanfare figure m1c1 (and variants).

4. The extension of the final accent in the TM of the last MP into a ‘phrase’ or ‘motif’ of finality (FM), consisting partly of totally new musical material (m4b, i.e. cresc. al ff. in trombone, timpani, traps, bass and brass instruments, i.e. . These elements have the dual function (see §6.1.3.4) of marking finality of overture and of generating sufficient excitement to carry the listener’s interest over the double bar into the ensuing story (see §4.1.2).

Fig. 46. Transformation of MP1 into MPs 8-9

5. An alteration of chordal structure from C7sus4 (c-f-g-b$) to Cno3,add9 (c-d-g), a completely thirdless combination, slightly ‘sparser’, ‘barer’, possibly more ‘strained’ than the slight more tertial C7sus4, Cm11, etc.

6. The ‘uneasy’ trill m2f1 (vln.) is replaced by the violins doubling the horn museme ma1b chordally at the octave, fifth and ninth.

7. The woodwind no longer play their ‘jerky stabs’ but also double the horn museme 1a1b in the same way as the violins (see above, no. 6).

8. Violin, viola, cello and electric guitar 2 all double the horn museme 1a1b as in nos. 6 & 7 above.

9. The bass line, played by double bass, electric bass, tuba, piano, electric guitar 1 in MP1 is now also played by the timpani in MP8.

10. In MP8 trombones (m2d1) and electric guitar l (m2d2) continue to play their pop figures from MPs 2-4 and MPs 6-7, adding driving movement towards the final chord which was not present in the link between MPs1 and 2.

In terms of affective message, these variations mean, in short, that:

1. There is in MP8 more of the ‘strong, energetic, bold call to action and attention upwards and outwards’ than in MP1 (three consecutive high c-s and two consecutive octave whoops, doubled by many other instruments). This means there is less space in MPs 8-9 than in MP1 for bass fillers.

2. The ‘aggressive threat’ (m2a) and ‘jerky unpredictability’ (m2c) in the environment disappears and is substituted by musemes which either underline the affect of m1a (see 1, above) or imitate that of m1c (heroic fanfare).

3. The general character of the environment becomes slightly ‘sparser’, ‘barer’, possibly ‘more strained’ and increases in intensity at the very end of the piece with its dual function (MP9) of ‘marking finality’ and ‘bridge’.

On the basis of the discussion above and using the figure showing the relationship between musical figure and musical ground (figure 47), we may summarise the affective message of MP8-9 as follows.

The strong, energetic, bold, heroic calls upwards and outwards, now stronger and more frequent than before dominate and have the final word in a dialogue with the heavy, jerky, previously threatening part of the environment, but which now reflects the heroic nature of the ‘individual’. Both these ideas are in harmony with and can be discerned through and above the slightly more exciting but less jerky, less unpredictable big city environment and its vibrant shimmer and stress. All of this moves forward (MP8), dissolving into a mood in which the vibrant shimmer and stress remain, but all other movement seems to cease, apart from an element of threat which finishes the piece but which at the same time seems to be ushering in new excitement and danger.

Fig. 47. MPs 8-9: relationship of musical figure to ground

9.2.8 Summary of affective meaning

(of musical phrases in the Kojak theme)

[MP1] A strong, energetic, heroic, bold call to attention and action upwards and outwards into jerky, energetic unrest and the uneasy, aggressive, somewhat threatening excitement of what appears to be a large North American city and its subculture | makes itself heard through, is in harmony with and then rumbles beneath | general, constantly bustling activity, uneasy (m2f1), agitated and insistent, but positive, pleasant, vibrant, shimmering and luminous. This movement leads onwards.

[MP2] The same call to attention and action upwards and outwards that started the piece now re-appears in a quicker, less intense form and continues this time itself into strong, confident, swaying motion which propels itself into something masculine, martial, broad, individual, heroic and fanfare-like, all of which stands out in bold relief against the same constantly bustling activity and shimmering luminosity of the large North American city atmosphere (this time more full of driving movement and punctuated by unexpected jerks); our active, confident, heroic figure has now the upper hand in a dialogue between itself and the intense, energetic, somewhat threatening excitement of the apparently urban, sub-cultural aspects of the environment.

[MP3] This state of affairs and relationship of moods continues and becomes clearer; the fanfare-like heroism mentioned above seems even broader and bolder than before, leading the movement onwards and upwards.

[MP4] Yes, with heightened intensity (but without a new call to attention and action) the same masculine, broad, martial, heroic fanfare figure, prepared and propelled into movement by the same swaying, confident motion as before, stands out in equally bold relief against an equally intensified environment which still consists of the same bustling activity and shimmering luminosity of a large North American city atmosphere, full of driving movement and punctuated by unexpected jerks. The active, confident, heroic figure still has the upper hand in the continuing dialogue between itself and the intense, energetic, aggressive and somewhat threatening excitement of the urban sub-cultural aspects of the environment. These ‘threatening’ aspects start to play a more active part as the motion continues.

[MP5] Indeed, this ‘threatening’ part of the environment ushers in an unexpected turn of events: at an even higher level of intensity (first C-g, then E$-b$, now F-c) our previously heroic figure, still strong and intense, now becomes strained and passive, leaving room to allow itself to be constrained and dominated by (more passive, more static than, subordinate to) and yet in harmony with a sudden outburst of increased unrest, unpredictability, threat, danger and excitement in the environment which now seems to be generally less stable and without its shimmering luminosity.

[MP6] However, this heightened unrest, unpredictability, threat, danger, excitement, urgency and uncertainty then seem to decrease again, almost disappear. The driving movement still continues as it has done up to this point and the temporarily passive figure now recurs in its originally masculine, martial, broad, bold, individual and heroic guise. It is prepared, propelled and launched, as before, by the same, quick, virile call to attention and action upwards and outwards into confident motion, standing out in bold relief against the original, generally agitated, unrestful, bustling activity and shimmering luminosity of the large North American city, whose energetic excitement is still punctuated by unexpected jerks, but which no longer seems so threatening as before it gained the upper hand (in MP5), appearing even slightly ‘warmer’ than before.

[MP7] This state of affairs, relationship of moods and its driving movement rises almost straight away to a higher general level of intensity, leading onwards, upwards and outwards as before (MP2-4) as if to return to yet another outburst of unrest, unpredictability, threat and danger.

[MP8] However, just at the point where a second outburst of threat and danger might be expected, the movement and its rising intensity lead us right back to the strong, energetic, bold, heroic calls, thereby restating the initial idea of the whole piece. These calls, stronger and more frequent than before, dominate, have the final word in a dialogue with the heavy, jerky, previously threatening part of the environment which now reflects the heroic nature of the ‘individual’. Both these ideas (the heroic calls and the imitation of the fanfare) are in harmony with and can be discerned through and above the slightly more exciting but less jerky big city environment and its vibrant shimmer and stress. All of this moves forward to a final call to attention and action.

[MP9] At this point everything dissolves into a mood in which the vibrant shimmer and stress remain, but in which all other movement appears to cease apart from the introduction of a new element of threat, which not only rounds off and finishes the processes described above, but which also seems to be ushering in new excitement and danger.

Having discussed musical signification in each of the Kojak theme’s nine phrases it is now time to approach the dynamic of processes throughout the piece.

b)

Ex. 186 a

P Tagg: Kojak – 50 Seconds of TV Music (1999-2000 edition) — E:\M55\KOJAK\Kchp9a.fm 13-01-03

Ex. 186 b

 

Fig. 51 (cont’d) Main points of simultaneous processual development (b)

9 The Significance of Syntagmatic Structure

9.3 Processual interpretation

In the preceding section we sought to interpret the affective meaning of the individual MPs of the Kojak theme, using the notion of present time perception in music as a factor limiting the duration of musical flow under analysis. In this section we shall attempt to interpret the affective significance of the total complex of processes in the piece.

As stated in the introduction to the previous section (§9.1.2), there is no precisely definable limit for the notion of ‘present time’, and the reader will no doubt have observed that our summary of affective meaning in musical phrases (§9.2.8) did not only consist of separate descriptions of isolated segments of music but also contained references both to preceding musical material and to expected continuations. We may thus state that we were unable to avoid intratextual, processual, syntactic and intra-objective aspects of musical meaning in the preceding section. It now seems necessary to systematise the processual aspects of our AO and to be more stringent about the relation of MPs and MSs to each other. These ‘horizontal’ relations, expressed in the Summary of Affective Meaning in MPs (§9.2.8) in terms of conjunctions and adverbial phrases, such as ‘once again’, ‘now’, ‘this time’, ‘however’, ‘yes, with increased intensity’, ‘instead’, ‘for the second time’, ‘as before’, ‘while’, ‘finally’, etc., should be discussed in greater detail.

Fig. 48 Division of the Kojak theme into musical sections

We shall start by presenting all audible musical processes as one-dimensional movement or development and continue to discuss their simultaneous development as contradictory, parallel or complementary processes, specifying points of change of direction and goals of direction. However, before we proceed to this task, we should present our basic hypothesis about the total construction of the piece (see fig. 48). Bars 1-5 (MP1) we shall call either Introduction or A11. Bars 6-8 (MP2) we shall refer to as A21 (A2 being those parts of the piece containing full melodic statement in C), b. 9-11 (MP3) as A22. Bars 12-14 (MP4) will be called A31 (A3 being those parts of the piece containing full melodic statement in E$). Bars 14-17 (MP5) will be referred to as 'B' (the contrasting section). Bars18-19 (MP6) become A23, b.20-21 (MP6) A32 and b.22-28 (MP8-9) A12, a sort of coda recalling the Introduction (A11). This division of the AO into MSs is more clearly expressed in figure 48 (p.315).

9.3.1 Affective constants

9.3.1.1 Musical constants

Before accounting for the intra-objective changes (variables) along the various parameters of musical expression in the AO, it seems wise to list the musical constants (non-variables), or, rather, those parameters of musical expression which after constituting the process from musical silence into MP1 then remain constant for the rest of the piece. There are six such constants: [1] pulse; [2] general level of dynamics; [3] instrumental technique and phrasing; [4] acoustics and electromusical treatment; [5] consonant relationship of melodic line to underlying harmony; [6] main compositional technique, in this case dualism between figure and ground or between melody and accompaniment.

We may regard these constants as a sort of framework within which the musical variables of the piece develop their own processes. These constants have the dual function of establishing the basis of musical language in which the piece is conceived and of providing the piece with a certain amount of constant, invariable affective meaning within the framework of the same musical language, a sort of affective backcloth, so to speak. Most individual aspects of musical code have already been commented upon while a few have yet to be discussed. We may therefore the dual function of the musical constants in the Kojak theme as follows.

1. Pulse. q =134 is equivalent to the description Allegro or Allegro Assai. Allegro (=lively) may be considered an apt affective adjective describing this pulse rate because of its connection with various bodily rhythms, such as fast heart beats, hurried walking, etc. The music of our AO may therefore be considered as basically fast and lively, an affective aspect underlined by the preponderance of time values shorter than the duration of one crotchet and of those requiring such short time values to be subsequently played by the performing musicians or experienced by the listener.

2. Dynamics. The general level of dynamics is either forte or fortissimo

(= strong or very strong). This consistently high volume level, demanding more energy from the players (or from their equipment) may be regarded as contributory to the generally intense and energetic affect of the piece.

3. Instrumental technique and phrasing. Although phrasing and technique obviously differ between instrumental parts in the piece, each individual part retains the same basic manner of phrasing and instrumental technique throughout the entire AO. The affective significance of these aspects has been commented upon in some detail earlier in this dissertation.

4. The acoustics and electromusical treatment connected with our AO have been mentioned in passing. Judging from the reverberation after the final chord of the piece it seems probable that a considerable amount of studio reverb has been added to the recording, resulting in a spatial effect best described as ‘large’, ‘broad’, ‘wide’, ‘full’, etc.

5. The constantly consonant relation of melodic line to underlying harmony may be seen as effectively modifying the general speed, energy, strength, space and modernity of the piece in a positive direction. Our hypothetical substitutions have underlined the feasibility of this observation: the musical figure (individual) is in consonant (‘harmonious’) relation to its/his ground (environment), despite changes in other aspects of the figure/ground relationship, such as thematic dominance, dynamics.

6. The basic compositional technique (melody/accompaniment dualism) is, as we have already mentioned, a question of musical world view in which the main dialectic contradiction is to be found in the relation between a melody/figure/individual/ego and its, or his/her, accompaniment/ground/environment (see §9.3.4.3.2, p.347, ff.). We should also mention in this context that the basic musical language of the piece is a mixture of three main elements: (i) neo-classical or late jazz harmony (see §6.3.); (ii) instrumentation from traditional art music, big band and pop genres; (iii) melodic traits from pop styles, neoclassicism and impressionism. The choice of musical language is, in accordance with arguments presented earlier (§6.3), instrumental in the representation of affect specifying time (modern), place (probably a large US-American city) and degree of worldly sophistication.

As may be gathered from this summary and from the earlier analysis of some of these aspects of musical communication, the overall mood of the Kojak theme is that of an individual surrounded by an environment of excitement, modernity and energy. This conclusion seems to tally quite well with our expectations of which general traits we might anticipate the music to exhibit before we started on our analysis in connection with the discussion of ‘the story’ (§5.3.2.).

9.3.1.2 Visual constants

Speed of presentation is also a visual constant. No visual sequence (VS) lasts for more than 8 seconds, the average duration being about 5½". Now, 5½ seconds is not a rapid cutting rate compared to that found in action sequences, in advertising and in pop videos, but it may be considered above the average editing tempo in filming as a whole. Moreover, movement inside each VS in our AO may be regarded as intense and rapid, especially that of the sweep-in patterns.

The visual composition technique used in the title sequences under analysis is a figure/ground construction analogous to that found in the music. Although this relationship between Kojak and his environment is temporarily absent from the screen during the first three seconds of VS6a (before the name ‘Kojak’ becomes discernible at beat 86), it is nevertheless the basis of visual expression in the AO.

Fig. 49. Table of main processes in the Kojak theme ———— [music] ————

 

 

 

Fig. 49 (cont’d). Table of processes in the Kojak theme —————— [visual]

 

9.3.2 Affective variables

Having accounted for constant parameters of expression we shall now discuss the affective variables of the Kojak theme. They are presented in tabulated form in figure 49 (pp. 318-319). As the reader will be able to see from that diagram, there are both parallel and contrapuntal (staggered, delayed, contrary) developments to be taken into account in the following discussion.

9.3.2.1 The main points of processual change

9.3.2.1.1 From MPs 2-4 to MP5

The most striking point in figure 49 seems to be the parallel processes during MPs 2 through 5 along the majority of musical parameters, to wit: (1) mean melodic pitch, (5) harmonic centre, (6) harmonic rhythm, (7) periodicity, (9-12) accompanying instruments. One visual parameter traces the same development: no.17, camera distance to Kojak’s environment.

Using the results of our analysis (§§6-7), we could interpret these parallel developments as follows: the degree of strain, energy and excitement generated by the melodic figure (mean melodic pitch) increases in intensity, not only in correspondence with the rising degree of urgency, unpredictability, threat and danger generated by the accompaniment (environment) but also in relation to the gradual ‘closing in’ of the New York environment (decrease of camera distance). If we add to these parallel processes the simultaneous contradictory developments traced by decreases (a) in the amount of melodic material (parameter 2 in figure 49) and (b) in the amount of light found in both musical and visual environments (parameters 8, 22) as we proceed from MP/VS4 into MP/VS5, it should be clear that the increase in (c) the degree of strain, energy and excitement generated by the musical figure (parameter 1), (d) the degree of urgency, unpredictability, threat and danger in the musical environment (parameters 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12) and (e) the degree of visual proximity to the environment all lead into a new affective state in where figure/individual becomes strained and constrained, dominated by a threatening environment, both musically and visually. This point has been stressed earlier (§§6.5, 7.2.5.1), but is clarified to a greater degree by this discussion from a processual point-of-view.

9.3.2.1.2 MP5-MP6, VS5a-5b

The second point to be observed in figure 49 is the simultaneous and parallel progression in the change from MP5 to MP6, marking a decrease in intensity along parameters 1, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12 (i.e. mean melodic pitch, harmonic centre, most accompanying instruments). This decrease occurs at the same time as an increase in the intensity of parameter no. 2 (amount of melodic material) and parameter 14 (first occurrence of written message on the screen), and marks a process in the opposite direction to that described in §9.3.2.1.1, above. Instead of the figure/individual becoming more strained and dominated as the ground/environment becomes closer, darker, more threatening, etc., the musical figure now re-assumes dominance over ground at a calmer, more confident level while its environment both loses its threatening affect and regains its luminosity. This environmental development takes place about three seconds later in the visual flow (VS5b-6a).

9.3.2.1.3 MP6-7 - MP8

The third striking point in figure 49 is the simultaneous rise in intensity during MPs 6 and 7 along all musical parameters except nos. 6 and 7 (with their decreasing degree of unpredictability in terms of periodicity and harmonic rhythm) and the delayed rise (of skyscrapers from dark to light, from low to high, from ‘no Kojak’ to ‘KOJAK’ – see §7.2.6.1) along almost all visual parameters during VSs 6a-6b. This section of the AO marks a reprise of the rise in intensity described in §9.3.2.1.1. However, not only is the musical recapitulation of A2 - A3 (see §9.2.6) an abbreviated version of the exposition A2 - A3: it is also both varied in itself and leads to a totally different conclusion to that of the exposition, i.e. to MP8 instead of to MP5. This development is schematised in figure 50.

Fig. 50. [A21 ® A22 ® A31 ® B] in relation to [A23 ® A32 ® A12]

Figure 50 can be interpreted as follows. Whereas the increase in intensity in the exposition of A2 - A3 led to a closer proximity of and dominance by the threatening (dark) environment together with a corresponding development into passivity and subordination on the part of the figure, the development in the recapitulation A23 - A32 differs on a number of counts.

1. The musical environment is no longer in conflict with the musical figure and even ends up imitating it (m2a ® m1c; m2c and m2f ® m1a).

2. The visual environment does not progress from light to dark but from extreme dark to light (parameters 22-23, fig. 49).

3. The musical environment does not end up by losing its ‘vibrant luminosity’: it is retained instead.

4. The visual environment does not lose its ordered rectangularity: it is retained.

5. The complexity of periodicity and harmonic rhythm does not increase: it decreases.

6. The musical figure does not lose ‘acoustic territory’ to the musical environment but ends up with the environment underlining, imitating and emphasising its restatement of the piece’s initial calls to attention and action.

9.3.2.1.4 MPs 8-9 to end, VSs 6b-7 to end

As can be seen in figure 49, there is a decrease in material presented along all parameters of visual code in the last few seconds of the AO (VS7’s sweep-out to total darkness). This sweep-out is accompanied by a simultaneous natural decrease in practically all parameters of musical expression (dying long notes or notes held without crescendo). There is no such decrease in the trombone and bass parts performing their ‘musemes of finality of overture’ (see §6.1.3.4). These accompanying (‘environmental’) parts, previously identified as conveyors of affect described in terms of jerkiness, threat, modernity, the subculture of a large US-American city, etc., now increase in intensity as the rest of the communicated message decreases both musically and visually, thereby leading the attention of the listener/viewer from the interaction of figure/individual and ground/environment towards a concentration on environment alone. The plausibility of this interpretation of the process is borne out by the fact that Kojak does not appear again on the screen until twelve minutes after the start of the episode (Hedeback, 1975:4).

9.3.2.1.5 MP/VS1 - MP/VS2

The final main simultaneous process to be commented on in figure 49 concerns the first change: from MP/VS1 to MP/VS2. It is interesting to note that the processes traced along the various parameters of visual and musical expression at this point do not take the same general direction: there is no general trend of unanimous increase or decrease of intensity. Instead, the amount of melodic material presented (parameter no. 2) increases simultaneously with the decrease in intensity in mean melodic pitch. The woodwind stabs and driving pop rhythm are introduced for the first time (i.e. they increase in intensity from zero) simultaneously with the decrease in the space allotted to the most ‘threatening’ of bass figures (m2a1). At the same time we find a decrease both in the size of Kojak in relation to his visual environment and in the proximity of his visual environment to coincide with an increase in the visual environment’s luminosity. These processes can be interpreted as changing the initial ambiguity of relation between figure and ground (both musical and visual) in MP/VS1 into the clear establishment of a figure/ground relationship in which, visually speaking, the figure continues to be the focal point while the ground becomes more distinct, and in which, musically speaking, the figure occupies more ‘acoustic space’ than the ground. In other words, while we are presented with an overwhelming visual figure against a dark, enclosed, indistinct visual background and a short musical figure against a long, active musical environment (disparity of musical and visual figure/ground relation) in MP/VS1, we have progressed in MP/VS2 to a situation in which the visual figure becomes the less overwhelming central point in a light, distinct, open visual background and an extensive musical figure is heard in relief against a less prominent and generally lighter but more exciting musical environment. A clear and balanced congruent relationship between both musical and visual figure and their respective environments is established in favour of the general dominance of both figures over their backgrounds. This point is discussed in greater detail below (§9.3.3).

9.3.2.1.6 Conclusions

As the reader will notice, the main simultaneous processes we have registered thus far all correspond to points of change from one MS to another in accordance with the division of the Kojak theme presented in figure 48 (p.315). These main processes may be summarised as follows:

1. (§9.3.2.1.5) [MP/VS1-2]: from ambiguity to clarity about the relationship of figure to ground;

2. (§9.3.2.1.1.) [(MP/VS2-4) - (MP/VS5)]: from increasing dominance of figure over ground to dominance of ground of figure;

3. (§9.3.2.1.2) [MPs 5-6/VSs 5a-5b]: from congruity to disparity of visual to musical figure/ground relationship;

4. (§9.3.2.1.3) [(MPs 6-7) - (MP8) / (VS5b-6a) - (VS6b)]: from disparity to congruity of musical to visual figure/ground relationship; from increasing general dominance to extreme dominance of figure over ground;

5. (§9.3.2.1.4) [(MPs 8-9) - (End) / (VSs 6b-7) - (End)]: from extreme dominance of figure over ground to disappearance of figure and increase in visual and musical environmental threat.

Aspects of disparity and congruity between musical and visual message have been mentioned in this section. This matter requires further discussion.

9.3.3 Disparity and congruity between musical and visual affective processes

If we now replace certain key words from our analysis of musical and visual message with the musical and visual material of the AO we may establish a model (figure 51) schematising the relation between the affective message of music and picture at the main points of simultaneous development. We have grouped items of visual and musical message in pairs in order to simplify the task of discerning where there is contradiction and agreement between the two. A first glance at figure 51 reveals two obvious points: [1] there is an increase in congruity between the affective message of music from very small in MP/VS1 via greater in MP/VS2 to large in MP/VS3, MP/VS4 and MP5/VS5a; [2] the congruity between affective message of sound and vision is extremely small in MP6/VS5b (due to the 3 second delay in the start of new visual processes). It then increases somewhat in MP7/VS6a to become considerable in MP5/VS6b and large in MP9/VS7. We may thus speak of two main processes in this context, both progressing from a general state of disparity between the affective message of music and picture to a general state of congruity between the two. Let us look at these two processes in a little more detail.

9.3.3.1 Parameters of consistent affective congruity of visual and musical message

Before discussing the processes to and from congruity between visual and musical affect we should make a brief account of points of consistent congruity between the two. In figure 51 we can see that the relatively consistent points of affective congruency are those between (1) musical male individual and visual male individual (except in MP7/ VS6) and (2) the degree of danger/threat in music and the degree of darkness in the visual environment (except in MP6/VS5b). There are, on the other hand, no equally consistent points of affective disparity between music and picture. We may instead proceed to trace the development of the two main processes of increasing affective congruency which we briefly mentioned in §9.3.3 (p.323).

9.3.3.2 The first main process from affective disparity to affective congruity of musical and visual message [from MP/VS1 to MP5/VS5a]

The contradiction between m1a (active, heroic horn call in MP1) and the static, mysterious executioner archetype in VS1, retained () in MP/VS2 is changed () in MP/VS3 in that the visual Kojak ceases to be static and mysterious: he talks and is portrayed in a well-lit environment. Whether or not Kojak is at that point (VS3) still the visual archetype of an executioner is another matter. However, the heroic nature of his action in VS4 (see §7.2.4.) seems to change this stereotype and the parallel change from m1a+m1b+m1c (MPs 2 through 4) into m3a (MP5), along with the increasingly active visual Kojak (from static/thinking to talking to running [VSs 1 through 4]), followed by his reversion to a non-active state (static/ listening [MP5]), underlines the increasing affective congruity between the horn melody and the visual representation of Kojak. This correspondence would seem to have been well established by the time music and picture reach MP5.

The contradiction between the disappearance of m1a1 (MP1) into the musical environment and the overwhelming dominance of the visual appearance of Kojak in VS1 is done away with in MP/VS2, thanks partly to the change () in melodic presentation from disappearance into environment to continuation into confident motion and heroic fanfare (m1b - m1c), partly in a modification () of visual message from Kojak’s overwhelming dominance over environment (VS1) to a smaller degree of dominance from the position of his frame in the middle of the sunny Manhattan panorama. He is still ‘too big’ in relation to this view but is less dominating than before. This balance of upper hand in musical dialogue between figure and ground on the one hand and, on the other hand, the visual fixation on Kojak as centre point in relation to environment is retained as a congruent relationship throughout MP/VS2, MP/VS3, MP/VS4, arriving once again in a state of contradiction in MP5/VS5a similar to that in MP/VS1, i.e. musical figure disappears into musical environment while visual figure is still proportionately ‘too big’ for the visual environment.

Fig. 51. Main points of simultaneous processual development in the Kojak theme (a)

The third and final point to be made in this account of the first main process from affective disparity to congruity concerns the musical and visual ground or ‘environment’. Disregarding for a moment the affective musical constants ‘North American sub-culture, metropolitan excitement, stress (tempo, speed of Moog figure m2b), the initial disparity between, on the one hand, the large, light and comparatively open affective character of the music and (b) the dark, enclosed visual environment (MP/VS1) is already done away with in MP/VS2 with the change () of visual environment to ‘sunlit panorama’. This congruity is maintained throughout MP/VS3-4, undergoing a parallel change () to musically urgent/insistent/ threatening and visually dark/mysterious/dangerous in MP5/VS5a: disparity between degrees of musical and visual luminosity is replaced by a longer state of congruity between the two. However, we should also point out that the state of contradiction in MP/VS1 between the musical constant ‘stress’, ‘bustling activity’ (tempo, m2b, etc.) and the visual variable ‘still’, ‘static’ is only one side of the coin: whereas the visual representation of Kojak himself may be more or less motionless in VSs 1, 2 and 3 and his environment totally devoid of concretely visible motion throughout the first half of the AO, the sweep-in pattern is, on the other hand and as already stated, anything but motionless.

Fig. 51 (cont’d) Main points of simultaneous processual development (c)

We may summarise the first main complex of processes in the Kojak theme and their development from affective disparity to congruity of musical and visual message as follows.

1. Consistent congruity may be established between the existence of a ‘male individual’ aspect of musical message and the visible appearance of a male individual on the screen. This congruity will be treated at this stage as technical rather than affective and it is qualified by the increasing congruity between the affective nature of musical and visual figure.

2. The musical/visual male individual (figure) is related to a musical/visual environment (ground). The affective nature of this relationship acquires an increasing degree of congruity before returning to a state of semi-disparity.

3. The musical and visual environments show an increasing degree of congruity:

We may therefore state that by the time listeners/viewers have reached the end of MP5/VS5a (31.3" into the piece or 63% of its length), they will be able to have established the following three relationships: (i) between musical and visual figure; (ii) between the relationship of musical figure to musical ground; (iii) between musical ground and visual ground. The contradiction which existed initially between the visual archetype of the executioner or hired killer and the musical archetypes of heroic male activity will probably have been ‘unlearned’ for the purposes of this AO by the time 63% of the piece has been presented. This is the first of our three dual processes of identification. The other two consist of (a) establishing the feeling of an environment which is at once both pleasant (light, open, thrilling) and unpleasant (dark, enclosed, threatening) by presenting it first as both negative and positive, thereafter as primarily positive and finally as primarily negative, and (b) establishing the relationship of figure/individual to ground/environment by presenting it in a similar affective order, i.e. first simultaneously as both, thereafter as mainly dominated by figure and finally as mainly dominated by ground.

Basing our argument on the assumption that there are three simultaneous combinations of two given affective states (which we shall call ‘positive’ [+] and ‘negative’ [–]) and that these three combinations are (1) + –, (2) + + and (3) – –, it will be clear that all three combinations have been catered for in the simultaneous presentation of affective states of figure, ground and the relation between the two in the first seventeen bars of the Kojak theme. We have seen music+ with picture–, music+ with picture+ and, finally, music– with picture–.

We shall therefore conclude that patterns of identification will have been established by these processes which in general lead (A) from an ambiguity and comparative confusion concerning the affective evaluation of our male figure to his establishment as a hero, thence to his presentation as a subjugated individual; (B) from an ambiguity concerning his relation to his surroundings to his mastery of the environment, thence to his mastery by the environment; (C) from ambiguity concerning the nature of the environment to its appearance as light, open and in the main exciting in a positive fashion (thrilling), thence to its presentation as a mainly dark, enclosed, negatively exciting (threatening) milieu.

We shall now proceed to discuss the main processes of the recapitulation section and coda in a similar way in order to discover what the total affective development of the Kojak theme will be.

9.3.3.3 The second main process from affective disparity to affective congruity of musical and visual message

[from MP6/VS5b to MP9/VS7]

9.3.3.3.1 Figure

One of the most notable traits in the latter half of figure 51 seems to be the disappearance of visual figure in VS6 (MP7). It should be remembered that this disappearance is partly the result of the addition of verbal message ‘Tally Savalas as’... which continues in the form of the skyscraper sweep-in (see §7.2.6.1). These skyscrapers rise majestically, finally spelling out the name KOJAK with great mythical symbolism (see §8.4.1) and superimposing themselves on the same Kojak profile as was shown in VS1. This is the only point (VS6/ MP7) in the whole piece where there is disparity between visual and musical message as far as the existence of figure/ground relationship is concerned. The music continues to be based on such a relationship, the male figure (now identified with the male individual shown on the TV screen) clearly dominating his musical environment, while the visible male individual now disappears altogether. This disparity may be regarded as contributory to a certain amount of temporary perceptual confusion, initiated originally in the staggering of visual message three seconds behind musical message in the extension of VS5a into its frozen ‘still’ form with superimposed text at the same time as MP6 starts its varied reprise of A2 - A3 (MPs 2-4 as MPs 6-7). This confusion, lasting only a few seconds (see §§7.2.5.2, 7.2.6.1.), is only partial: the heroic musical male individual, now identified with various shots of Kojak (see §9.3.3.2), accompanies the rise of the five skyscrapers (visual environment) as the musical environment rises together with its individual at the intensified pitch over the E$ chord. This leads towards an expected reprise of the next logical step — musical and visual environment dominating musical and visual figure. The absence of visual figure in this process might appear at first sight to be preparing for a reprise of such a development. However, the uncontested supremacy of musical figure over musical environment clearly maintains the presence of an identifiable male individual in command of his surroundings and the visual appearance of the name KOJAK on top of the skyscrapers and its subsequent superimposition on, and resultant identification with, the visual figure Kojak confirm the feasibility of the mythical interpretation we gave to this process. In other words, the real individual (figure) Telly Savalas is shown to represent (‘Telly Savalas AS’) an environment of glittering skyscrapers (a visually euphemised reality becoming fictitious); this mythologised environment then becomes the fictitious name and person Kojak. Confusion is thus created in that both the real person Telly Savalas and the realistically portrayed environment (a threatened, subjugated individual in a dark and dangerous large US-American city) become the fictitious environment of blazing, rising, toppling skyscrapers. Concurrently, the fictitious male at the start of the title sequences, later identified as the real person Telly Savalas, now re-emerges not as a real person in the real environment but as the fictitious name and person Kojak in an equally fictitious environment. What we have here, in other words, is a reification of real individual into idealised material environment and a personalisation of idealised material environment into a fictitious individual, a visual confusion of what is figure and what is ground. However, previously established congruity between musical and visual figure and ground can hardly be expected to disappear altogether when a temporary disparity of so short a duration takes place. The complementary development visual reification of individual/personalisation of environment results in a sort of affective equation between the two in which, to put it tersely, the observer identifies the male individual by his environment and the environment by the individual it identifies. This mythical type of equation is by no means uncommon in bourgeois culture. Expressible in the context of the Kojak theme by such statements as ‘Kojak’ (the character or Kojak the programme) is New York’ (symbolised by the skyscrapers) or ‘New York is Kojak’, this ‘equation’ is simultaneously underlined by the coinciding dominance of heroic, male musical figure over temporary, previously threatening environment, now subdued and controlled.

Finally, the disparity between presence of musical figure and apparent absence of visual figure in MP7/VS6a is adjusted. In MP8-9/VS6b-7, the heroic horn call from MP1 returns, but does not disappear directly into its environment as before. Instead high c (c4) is repeated three times in succession and has the upper hand in its dialogue with the bass part (the most ‘threatening’ part of the musical environment), which now actually imitates the musical figure. Even the musical environment and musical figure appear to be ‘at one’ to the advantage of the figure, which also has the final word. Due to this and other processes of ‘heroification’, ‘deification’ and ‘mythologisation’ described elsewhere in this book, Kojak’s visually negative archetype (threatening executioner or hired killer), probably ‘unlearned’ by the middle of the piece, should be totally dispersed by the second main complex of processes we have been describing here. There now seems to be no disparity between the musically heroic, active male individual and the visually mystified, static male individual who even seems to end the title sequences with a slight smile on his lips. Both the musical and the visual male individual disappear simultaneously into the final increasing intensity of the approaching environmental danger in the musical environment and the total darkness of the visual environment.

9.3.3.3.2 Ground

As we saw above, in the second half of the Kojak theme visual figure became visual ground; in turn this visual ground recreated the visual figure while musical figure maintained its previously presented clear relationship to musical ground. In discussing these points we have of course touched an some important points in the development of the relationship between musical and visual ground in MP6-9/VS5b-7. As stated before, there is delay, not only between the start of the second main musical process and the start of the second main visual process (MP6 and VS6), but also inside the second visual process itself in that a verbal (written, semantic) process starts (‘Telly Savalas as...’) before the first visual process has finished (VS5a/5b). These staggered starts of the main set of second visual processes cause not only apparent confusion as regards the disparity of musical to visual figure but also, though to a lesser degree, the relation of musical to visual ground. The complete disparity in MP6/VS5b of (a) very little danger and threat in the musical environment and threat in the ‘held’ shot of Manhattan by night in the visual environment and of (b) a large, luminous, open, ‘warmer’ musical environment together with a mysterious, dark, dangerous visual environment is, however, soon rectified: in MP7/VS6a there seems to be total congruity between the affective presentation of musical and visual ground due solely to changes in visual parameters from ‘dark Manhattan by night, mysterious, dangerous’, etc. to ‘light, skyscrapers, Manhattan by day, rising, luminous, upwards’. However, much of the ‘positive’ affect in this change of visual message seems to be channelled into or directed towards the bright name KOJAK in MP8/VS6b; this is because, in MP9/VS7, Kojak resumes his initially overwhelming visual domination of the dark, enclosed room constituting his original and final environment. At the same time (from MP7/VS6a to MP8/VS6b, thence to MP9/VS7) the musical environment maintains its basic affective character of ‘large, luminous, open, little or no danger’, etc., the only two alterations being (1) a minor modification from ‘little danger/threat’ to ‘conquered and controlled’ environment, (2) the final increase of environmental threat in the last two bars of the piece and (3) the disappearance of the affective attribute ‘warm’ (see §9.2.6.3). Admittedly, these alterations in a generally ‘negative’ direction take place within in the same time span as the generally ‘negative’ affective direction taken by the visual processes described above. However, the musical modifications are neither so numerous nor so radical as the visual changes; nor do they actually coincide with them. We may therefore speak of increasing disparity between the affective processes of the musical and visual ground after MP6/VS5b (as from MP7/VS6), with the exception of the final congruity between increased environmental threat in music connected to the final visual sweep-out to total darkness. Indeed, it almost seems plausible to interpret this passage as creating more confusion about the affective nature of the environment (musical and visual) than of the figure. This is partly because the combined musical and visual environment at its ‘brightest’, most ‘open’ stage of development (start of MP7 to start of MP8, VS6a) turned visually into Kojak (the figure) whereas the figure turned into environment before the start of this musical and visual ‘rise’, just after the presentation of the most threatening part of the piece. In other words, whereas the visual environment in rising and brightening became Kojak as a visual figure, the visual figure — the foregrounded but mythical skyscrapers — did not continue as environment. It is in this way that we argue about ‘light’ from the environment being channelled over from the environment into the figure in the join between MP7 and MP8 (VS6a-6b). This process is underlined by absence of ‘threat’ and ‘danger’ in the musical environment at this point and the extreme domination of musical figure over ground.

These two sets of processes in the second section (after 'B') of the Kojak theme may be summarised as follows.

Fig. 52. Musical and visual processes – figure/individual/melody

The main conclusions to be drawn from this discussion are as follows.

1. There is increasing congruity between visual and musical message in the recapitulation section of our AO, i.e. from affective disparity to congruity in the presentation of the figure/individual.

Fig. 53. Musical and visual processes – ground/environment/accompaniment

2. After a development from disparity of affective message to congruity in the presentation of the ground in the recapitulation, a new state of disparity is re-introduced. Only in the last two bars of the piece is congruity of affective message re-asserted, i.e. from affective disparity to congruity to disparity [to congruity].

9.3.3.3.3 Relation of figure to ground, summary and discussion

We will now sum up the verbal interpretations of affect found in the main processes between disparity and congruity of musical and visual message in the Kojak theme. There are two main sets of processes, the first culminating in MP/VS5, the second starting in a staggered fashion in MP6/VS5b-VS6a (figures 49, 51). Taken together, these processes can be presented in general affective terms as follows.

A male individual, at the same time active and motionless, heroic and threatening, disappears into and yet overwhelms a dark, mysterious, enclosed environment which, at the same time, is full of light – exciting, large and open, probably associable with the subculture of a large, modern North American metropolis. Figure and ground are both ambiguous.

The same male individual becomes more active and heroic, also confident and martial, yet friendly and less frightening; he also appears as the central point of reference in a generally clear, exciting, sunny, light, bustling, modern New York. Figure and ground are both clear.

Now he becomes strained and constrained, passive and dominated by a New York environment which has turned into something more threatening, dangerous, dark, enclosed and worrying. Figure and ground have both changed character congruously and are both clear.

Once again he becomes at the same time active and motionless, hero and vanquished, dominating and dominated with a name and with no name in a New York which is both light and dark, exciting and threatening, open and closed. Figure and ground are both ambiguous).

He then becomes even more active, heroic and masculine than before; and yet he seems to disappear at the same time, turning into majestic skyscrapers bathing in sunlight, rising majestically towards the sky as he continues in his absence to dominate the exciting, bright, large, open, bustling New York environment. The figure/individual’s character is ambiguous, the ground/environment’s clear.

After this the glistening skyscrapers spell the name of this active, virile hero in the sky and then place the name over his profile which now dominates the dark, enclosed and threatening room which is at the same time the bright, exciting, large, open, bustling US-American metropolis which echoes his name again (figure still clear, ground still ambiguous).

Finally he disappears heroically into this affectively paradoxical environment, dark and yet light, threatening yet exciting, enclosed yet open as its negative aspects increase in intensity.

As we may gather from this summary and the discussion preceding it, music plays an extremely important part in conveying the affective message of our AO. Using Osgood’s division of affective adjectives into the three categories evaluation, potency and activity (Osgood et al., 1975), we may observe that while aspects of ‘potency’ and ‘activity’ are to be found in both musical and visual message as regards the presentation of the figure/male individual (Kojak) in the exposition of the Kojak theme, it is primarily the music which conveys definite affective evaluation of the figure. Without musemes 1a, 1b and 1c and their consonant relation to musical environment there would be no real ‘hero’ Kojak in these title sequences. This is not only true of the first main set of processes (b.1-17) but also, as we have seen, of the musical recapitulation (b.18, ff.) in which the reification of the visual figure as environmental material was accompanied by the same, even more predominantly positive heroic musical affect as in the first presentation of the figure in the initial exposition. Moreover, it is doubtful whether the paradoxically threatening/exhilarating, dark/bright, open/enclosed nature of the environment would have come across with such force.

There may be parts of this argumentation which can appear speculative first sight. Such an impression might be explained by the fact that we have based parts of this discussion on certain assumptions about aesthetic perception which we will now proceed to treat in a little more detail before presenting our final conclusions about the total affective meaning of the Kojak theme.

9.3.4 Centripetal and centrifugal processes

So far, most interpretative models presented in this thesis have been one- or two-dimensional. They have followed the epistemological pattern of explaining the musical and visual processes in relation to the ‘absolute’ scale of passing time from left to right, although we have also introduced semi-verbal score reading techniques where the reader must not only follow developments along successive horizontals from left to right, starting at the top of the page and going down, but also successive verticals from top to bottom of the page, preceding from left to right. Not even these two dimensional models (® and ¯) are capable of visualising the multidimensionality of musical and visual expression. The problem was also exemplified by difficulties in tracing the development of processual complexes expressing changing stages of one intricate relationship to another. We will not pursue this matter further here: we just wish to draw attention to this problem of musical analysis and suggest one final set of interpretative models which may help towards understanding the multidimensionality of musical and visual expression in our AO.

We argued earlier (§9.1.2.) that the rationalist half of the ‘epistemological dualism’ (‘objectivity’ and ‘rationalism’), with its tendency to systematise processual phenomena as chains of events along a one-dimensional time axis, was not always ideally suited to the understanding of musical discourse and its (often understood as) intrinsically ‘subjective’, ‘intuitive’, ‘emotional’, ‘irrational’, ‘illusive’ type of communication. Leaving aside questions of right and left cerebral hemispheres and the possibilities of neuropsychological ‘divisions of labour’ in the brain, it would, paradoxically enough, seem logical to assume that ‘objective representation’ and rationalist thought will not be capable of explaining more than certain limited areas of the social, ethical, sensual and emotional communicative experience. In other words: how, one may wonder, is social, ethical, sensual and affective experience at a ‘non-objective’ level expressed in a socio-culturally definable system of affective (‘non-intellectual’) sonic code contained within measurable duration? Part of this problem can be solved, it would seem, by the kind of musematic analysis we presented earlier (§6) and in our interpretation of MPs (§9.2). However, when we leave this extrageneric stage of reasoning about correspondence between individual IMCs as independent units and plunge into the interpretation of the intrinsically non-verbal congeneric organisation of extragenerically delimitable items of affective meaning, we are faced with the thankless task of expressing something in words which defies expression in any other form than that in which it is already expressed. However, in our final attempt at tackling the problem of extramusical interpretation of music accompanying moving pictures we shall take the liberty of presenting a set of ‘irrational’ models which do not express musical (and moving visual) processes along the unidimensional time axis but place them in relation to ‘subjective’, ‘intuitive’, ostensibly illogical points of affective reference, tracing their development in relation to these given states or complexes of affective reference.

Basing these ideas on the hypothesis that the first discernible museme string containable within the “present time” perceptual experience in music, (by previous definition a complex affective state), is the first reference point in the musical process, we may construct a number of models for the Kojak theme where the first such reference point/affective state will be placed as central/focal reference point/affective state in a succession of concentric circles of varying size and distance from this point. The areas of affective meaning (determined by changes in musical material) which differ from this central reference point (which we shall also refer to as focal point, fulcrum, ‘home’, etc.) are presented as orbits around this point at various distances, increasing in accordance with their degree of affective disparity (musical divergence) from the fulcrum.

Thus, instead of the central point of a MW being its ‘objectively’ chronological centre we shall regard its centre as the ‘subjectively’ experiential focal point of the same MW, referring to musical processes as perceptible, communicable phenomena (musicf) in this context rather than as idealised Dining an sich (musicu) in some way independent of the communication process. This epistemological paradox can be illustrated by taking the typically centripetal A-B-A form of a classical sonata movement or the A-A-B-A form of a minuet/scherzo + trio or of a 32-bar jazz standard. Placing these basically A-B-A forms alone a one-dimensional time axis (figure 54) we find 'B' — the contrasting section furthest away from the ‘home’ key, at the greatest affective distance from the basic thematic reference point of the piece, etc. — to be its chronologically centre (fig. 54).

Fig. 54. A-B-A form on a one-dimensional time axis.

However, if we place 'A' (home key, thematic reference point, etc.) at the centre of the same type of MW, we will find the ‘objective’ chronological centre to be its affective periphery (see fig. 55).

Fig. 55. A-B-A form: its concentric aspect

Taking into account the fact that musical processes progress from certain affective states to others, we may then trace the general development of a simplified A-B-A form as shown in figure 56.

Fig. 56. A-B-A form: its basically centripetal process

Centripetality is characteristic of processual structuring in much western music produced since 1600 (Maróthy 1974: 11-21). Visualised as a cardioid, the music starts ‘at home’ ('A', an affective state or point of reference to which the listener can relate) and proceeds into the ‘outside world’ (affective state or states in varying degrees of contrast to ‘home’). The music then ends up returning ‘home’. Generally centrifugal forms, on the other hand, are rare in western music. We may cite Eisler’s Solidaritätslied as an example of such an exception in that the last phrase of the final refrain (at the words ‘Wessen Strasse ist die Strasse? Wessen Welt ist die Welt?’), although musically and verbally a process resulting from the dialectical juxtaposition of ideas in the preceding verses (V) and refrains (R), actually turns the preceding processes in a new direction. Assuming the chronological construction of the piece to be R1®V1, R2®V2, R3®V3, R4®V4, R5®V5, R6, and remembering that R1®V1 through R5®V5 are musically the same but that R6 differs importantly from the previous refrains, we may interpret the affective processual construction of the piece as follows:

Fig. 57. Eisler's Solidaritätslied as centripetal process ending centrifugally

We shall now review all processes, both visual and musical, in the Kojak theme, determine to what extent they are centripetal or centrifugal and discuss their significance from this viewpoint.

9.3.4.1 Centripetal and centrifugal musical processes in the Kojak theme

9.3.4.1.1 Melodic pitch of figure [1]

Pitch is determined here on a scale ranging from ‘urgent’/ high/‘strained’ (c4) to ‘less urgent’/lower/‘less strained’ (g3 - b$4 as intermediate stage on bipolar scale).

Fig. 58. §9.3.4.1.1 chronologically

Fig. 59. §9.3.4.1.1 as double centripetal process

9.3.4.1.2 Amount of melodic material [2]

Using the scale from a - m1a only to b - m1a+m1b+m1c and g - m3a, the chronological presentation of melodic material is: a [m1a] ® b [m1a+m1b+m1c] ® g [m3a] ® b [m1a+m1b+m1c] ® a [m1a] ® a [m1a].

Fig. 60. §9.3.4.1.2 as double centripetal process

9.3.4.1.3 Relation of main melodic tone to tonic root [3]

The relation of main melodic tone to tonic root is presented in the following simple order: octave ® fifth ® octave.

Fig. 61. §9.3.4.1.3 as single centripetal process

9.3.4.1.4 Type of harmony [4]

The chronological order of harmonic idiom is a - [quartal/neo-classical/modal] ® (b - [tertial/quasi-chromatic] ® (a - [quartal/neo-classical/modal]

Fig. 62. §9.3.4.1.4 as single centripetal process

9.3.4.1.5 Harmonic centre [5]

Chronologically the harmonic centre rises from C to E$ to F. It then reverts briefly to C, rises again to E$ and finishes again on C.

Fig. 63. §9.3.4.1.5 as double centripetal process

9.3.4.1.6 Harmonic rhythm [6]

Harmonic rhythm runs on a scale from slow through less slow to fast. The chronological order of events is shown in table 3.

Table 3 Order of changes in harmonic rhythm

a slow > 20 beats per chord

b less slow 13 beats per chord

d fast 1½ beats per chord

g quite fast 7-8 beats per chord

a slow > 20 beats per chord

 

Fig. 64. §9.3.4.1.6 as successive single centripetal process

9.3.4.1.7 Periodicity [7]

Periodicity changes on a scale from regular to irregular. The order of events is shown in table 4.

Table 4 Changes in periodicity

a regular 4 × 4/4

b less regular 3 × 4/4

g irregular [2 × 4/4] + [1 × 5/4]

d more irregular 3 × 10/8

g irregular [1 × 3/4] + [2 × 4/4] + [1 × 6/4]

a regular 4 × 4/4

 

Fig. 65. §9.3.4.1.7 as successive centripetal process

9.3.4.1.8 Moog ostinato [8]

Chronologically this strand of the music goes from a - luminosity to b - no luminosity and a - back to luminosity.

Fig. 66. §9.3.4.1.8 as single centripetal process

9.3.4.1.9 Woodwind [9]

The woodwind parts run on a scale ranging between a - ‘no jerky jabs’, b - jerky jabs’ and g - ‘urgent danger’. The chronological order of events is a - ‘no jerky jabs’, b - ‘jerky jabs’ increasing in intensity to g - ‘urgent danger’, back to b - ‘jerky jabs’ increasing in intensity and ending with a - ‘no jerky jabs’.

Fig. 67. §9.3.4.1.9 as a double centripetal process

9.3.4.1.10 Violins [10]

Violins run from a - ‘muffled unrest’ into b - increase of that ‘muffled unrest’ into g - ‘urgent danger’, then into d - a ‘full, warm pad’ and ending with e - imitations of the horn’s ‘whoops’.

Fig. 68. §9.3.4.1.10 as a centrifugal process

9.3.4.1.11 Trombones [11]

Trombones, together with electric guitar 1, play material in the following order: a - nothing, b - driving pop rhythm, g - driving pop rhythm with increased intensity, d - urgent danger, b - driving pop rhythm followed again by g - driving pop rhythm with increased intensity and, finally, e - approaching danger.

Fig. 69. §9.3.4.1.11 as double centripetal, double centrifugal process

9.3.4.1.12 Bass line [12]

The bass line’s material ranges from ‘no danger’ to ‘great danger’. The order of events is a - danger, b - less danger, g - great danger, d - no danger (twice), e - approaching danger.

Fig. 70. §9.3.4.1.12 as single centrifugal process

9.3.4.1.13 Dominance of musical figure over ground [13]

The scale of this parameter stretches from dominating via ambiguous to dominated. The order of events is a - ambiguous, b - figure dominates, g - ground dominates, b - figure dominates, a - ambiguous.

Fig. 71. §9.3.4.1.13 as centripetal process

9.3.4.2 Centripetal and centrifugal visual processes in the Kojak theme

9.3.4.2.1 The sweep-in’s point of origin [14a]

The sweep-in starts from different points in the following sequence: a - top right, b - top left, g - bottom left, d - bottom middle, a - top right.

Fig. 72. §9.3.4.2.1 as a centripetal process

This temporal centripetality also applies spatially to the path of these points of origin on the TV screen (fig. 73).

Fig. 73. 9.3.4.2.1as centripetal process on screen

9.3.4.2.2 The sweep-in pattern’s point of destination [14b]

The sweep-in pattern aims for the following points in the following order: a - middle, b - bottom right, g - bottom left, a - middle.

Fig. 74. §9.3.4.2.2 as a centripetal process

The process is also literally centripetal in relation to the TV screen (fig. 75).

Fig. 75. §9.3.4.2.2 as centripetal process on screen

9.3.4.2.3 Shape and direction of sweep-in pattern [14c]

The following is the order in which sweep-in patterns are presented:

a) b) g) d) e) a) .

Fig. 76. §9.3.4.2.3 as a centripetal process

9.3.4.2.4 Presence of text [14d]

Text does not appear on screen until ‘Telly Savalas as’… Then it disappears for a few seconds to appear on top of the skyscrapers as they topple. Text is thus present or absent in the following sequence: a - absent, b - present, a - absent, b - present, a - absent.

Fig. 77. §9.3.4.2.4 as a centripetal process

9.3.4.2.5 Position of Kojak frame on screen[15]

During the title sequences the Kojak frame occupies the following positions in the following order: a - whole screen, b - middle, g - top right, d - bottom centre, e - left centre, b - middle, a - whole screen.

Fig. 78. §9.3.4.2.5 as a centripetal process

This centripetal process also works literally on the TV screen (fig. 79).

Fig. 79. 9.3.4.2.5 as a centripetal process on screen

9.3.4.2.6 Camera distance to Kojak [16]

The distances from which Kojak is viewed in the title sequences under discussion are presented in the following order: a - absent then VCU, b - CU, g - CS, d - MS, g - CS, a - absent, b - CU, a - VCU then absent.

Fig. 80. §9.3.4.2.6 as centripetal process

9.3.4.2.7 Camera distance to background / environment [17]

Camera distances to the background in these Kojak title sequences proceed as follows: a - CS/absent, b - VLS, g - LS, d - MLS, g - LS, a - CS, b - VLS, g - LS, d - MLS, g - LS, a - CS/absent.639

Fig. 81. §9.3.4.2.7 as centripetal process

9.3.4.2.8 Kojak’s direction of action/movement [18]

The sequence of directions pursued by Kojak during the title sequences as he looks at, talks to, or runs towards someone or something is as follows:

Fig. 82. §9.3.4.2.8 as single centripetal process

9.3.4.2.9 Number of strips in sweep-in pattern [19]

The number of strips changes chronologically as follows: a - 3, b - 4, b - 4, g- 5, a - 3.

Fig. 83. §9.3.4.2.9 as centripetal process

9.3.4.2.10 Sweep-in speed [20]

The sweep-in patterns’ speed, measured in centimetres per second on the author’s TV in 1979, varies according to the following sequence: 20, 30, 50, 30 [0, 30, 0], 20.

Fig. 84. §9.3.4.2.10 as centripetal process

9.3.4.2.11 Kojak’s actions [21]

Chronologically, Kojak’s actions are presented in the following order: a - more or less motionless (turning head, thinking), b - slightly active (talking), g - very active (running, shooting), a - more or less motionless again, g - very active (as skyscrapers), a - more or less motionless (as before).

Fig. 85. §9.3.4.2.11 as centripetal process

9.3.4.2.12 Luminosity of visual environment [22]

The visual environment starts as a - black, goes to b - quite dark, then to g - light, back to b - quite dark and a - black, repeating the sequence g b a before ending.

Fig. 86. §9.3.4.2.12 as centripetal process

9.3.4.2.13 Luminosity of Kojak frame [23]

The Kojak frame starts off as the complete screen and is a - quite dark with sharp contrast. This dark screen is zoomed out centre screen. The Kojak frame is then b - quite light, g - even lighter, a - dark again, g - light again, then a - as at the start.

Fig. 87. §9.3.4.2.13 as centripetal process

9.3.4.2.14 Relation of visual figure to ground

The basic order of events for this parameter is: a - n.a./absent, b - figure dominates, g - figure still central but less overwhelming, a - n.a./absent, b - figure dominates, a - n.a./absent.

Fig. 88. §9.3.4.2.14 as double centripetal process

9.3.4.2.15 Sweep-in / sweep-out

All but the last of the Kojak title sequences are swept in. The last one is swept out. This makes for the order a a a a a b, a centrifugal process.

Fig. 89. §9.3.4.2.15 as centrifugal process

 

9.3.4.3 The interpretation of centripetal and centrifugal processes

As can be seen in figures 58-89 above, the vast majority of individual processes in the Kojak theme are centripetal. Of course, the points in time at which these various processes spin off from their central point or return to it do not necessarily coincide. However, combined simultaneous development of different individual processes (be it effectively contradictory or complementary) has already been discussed in some detail (§9.3.3.) and may also be extrapolated from a perusal of figures 49 and 51. Nevertheless, with further simplification we may divide our processes into the following groups.

9.3.4.3.1 Single centripetal processes

Table 5 Single centripetal processes

no. Parameter Polarities

(a) moving away from ‘home’ as from MP2 / VS2 and returning in MPs 8-9 / VSs 6b-7

3 relation of main melodic tone to tonic root octave … fifth

9 woodwind jabs … no jabs

14a sweep-in pattern’s point of origin top right … elsewhere

15 Kojak’s position on TV screen middle … elsewhere

14c sweep-in pattern form … other

17 camera distance to environment near … far

18 Kojak’s direction of action ® … other

19 no. strips in sweep-in pattern 3 … >3

(b) away from ‘home’ in MP5 / VS5a and returning in MP6 / VS5b - MPs7-8 / VS6

4 type of harmony quartal/modal … tertial/chromatic

6 harmonic rhythm fast … slow

7 periodicity regular … irregular

8 luminosity (moog audible) yes … no

14b sweep-in pattern’s destination point centre … other

 

These two sets of single, non-simultaneous centripetal processes should be seen not only as complementing each other by virtue of the delay between the recapitulation of musical message and the start of the second visual process, but also contributory towards the generally double centripetal processual character of the AO.

9.3.4.3.2 Double centripetal processes

Table 6 Double centripetal processes

no. Parameter Polarities

(a) first return in MP/VS5, second return in MPs 7-8 / VSs 6b-7

1 melodic pitch high … low

2 amount of melodic material little … much

13 domination of musical figure of ground unclear … clear

16 camera distance to Kojak close … less close

21 Kojak’s degree of action little … much

22 luminosity of visual environment little … much

(b) first return in MP6/VSs 5b-6, second return in MPs 8-9 / VSs 6b-7

5 harmonic centre C … not C

23 luminosity of Kojak frame dark … light

24 relation of visual figure to visual environment from absence to dominance and vice versa … focal point

 

From the summary above it should be clear that of 25 processes 21 have a centripetal tendency. Only four processes (three musical — nos. 10, 11, 12 — and one visual — 25) are basically centrifugal. Apart from the totally centrifugal process traced by the accompanying string parts, which was not easily audible on the original recording used in our analysis, we should account for the combined centripetal and centrifugal process followed in the trombone and bass parts.

The trombones proceed from silence (Ø) to a modern, driving ‘pop’ rhythm (see §6.1.3.1.) whence they go on to mark the ‘urgent’, ‘dangerous’, ‘unpredictable’ museme 3b. After reverting to their driving pop rhythm, they finish off the last bar of the piece with their crescendo and its loud major ninth (see §6.1.3.4.), leading the musical movement across the final double bar into the action of whichever episode is to follow.

The bass part642 also finishes in a similar centrifugal fashion but has no real centripetal tendency comparable to that of the trombone part. This is due to the fact that the recapitulation of other musical material, with its constant melodic flow, does not allow the bass time (‘acoustic space’) to find its jerkiest figure — m2b (§6.1.1). Although space for presentation of m2b is available in MP8, the bass plays the triplet figure m1c instead, the most ‘heroic’ of the three melodic musemes (§6.2.4). In this way the bass part, along with other aspects of musical and visual environment (violins, woodwind, skyscrapers) has, so ‘become’ the individual, presenting material which no longer can be identified as standing in affective contradiction to the melodic line, but rather underlining, emulating, imitating it.

There is an additional centrifugal process to be accounted for: the change from sweep-ins to sweep-out. We have described the ‘meander’ pattern of VS1-2 in terms of a question mark, ‘puzzle’, ‘maze’, ‘volution’, etc. (§7.2.1). After its ‘straightening out’ in VS6a it is finally wiped out, retracted, removed in VS7 (§7.2.7), a process from ‘problems’ to ‘solving problems’ and, finally, to ‘no problems’.

If we now gather all twenty-five parameters of expression together with their simplified affective interpretations on one page (figure 90), we may be able to understand something of the total affective process of our AO. We may drew a number of conclusions from this table and from the argumentation preceding it.

9.3.4.3.3 Conclusions

Fig. 90. Table of simultaneity of centripetal and centrifugal processes

1. [MUSICALLY] the main heroic calls to action (m1a1b, m1a2), the lack of unpredictable jabs (m2c) and the octave relationship of the main melodic tone in each MP all coincide with [VISUALLY] the image of the enclosed room, its ‘puzzle’ sweep-in and masking pattern, a small number (3) of visual strips and the extreme close-up of Kojak looking towards the right of the TV screen. We interpret this comparative lack of unpredictability in the musical environment and the total consonant (octave) relationship of musical figure to ground as emphasising the alpha and omega of visual message and its main reference point: extreme proximity to the male individual Kojak looking confidently forward despite an atmosphere of mystery and ‘problems’. Movement away from and back to this state occurs at the very beginning and very end of the piece (hence the ‘alpha and the omega’).

2. [MUSICALLY] the stable, less dangerous and luminous metropolitan aspects of the musical environment coincide with [VISUALLY] the centre of the TV screen as the main point of destination in the sweep-in pattern. This would seem to underline the idea of light and positive aspects of environmental excitement as a central point in our AO. Movement away from this state occurs only in the middle of the piece whence it returns to its starting point.

3. [MUSICALLY] the height/intensity of melodic pitch, the comparative lack of melodic material and the ambiguous relation of musical figure to ground coincide with [VISUALLY] lack of action by the figure in a dark environment. It seems that the degree of ‘strain’ and urgency expressed by the individual corresponds to his passivity and the presence of great threat. Movement away and back to this affective state occurs on two occasions in the Kojak theme.

4. [MUSICALLY] one of the aspects in the musical environment expressing intensity and unpredictability (rise of harmonic centre) coincides with [VISUALLY] the dominance of Kojak by his environment. We interpret this increase of intensity in the portrayal of Kojak’s environment as instrumental in the affective representation of Kojak’s subjection to the environment. Conversely, whereas C®E$®F (increased intensity of harmonic environment) leads to visual and musical subjection of figure to ground, the process F®C®E$® C leads back to domination of environment by individual. The original affective state described here is gradually reversed once, partially regained and seemingly on the way towards a new reversal (also rising visual environment in addition to rising harmonic intensity the second time). However, the process is not completed and returns for the second time to its original affective state: Kojak’s mastery of environment.

From this summary we might have concluded that the Kojak theme is no more than a collection of centripetal processes constituting a standard A-B-A form, bringing the listener comfortably back home to square one after a short but exciting ‘trip’. This notion is only true in part because of: (1) the non-coincidence of changes in processes belonging to different groups in the four sets of simultaneous centripetal processes described above (fig. 90); (2) the existence of non-centripetal processes (parameter nos. 10, 11, 12, 25); (3) the fact that the objective repetition of a musical process may never be considered as an affective repeat of its first statement,644 especially after the occurrence of intervening contrasting material between the two statements of the same subordinate process.

It would be tautologous to say that recapitulations require that different musical material be presented between the first and second (or between second and third etc.) statements of the same musical material. However, with the Kojak theme, although we may find recapitulation of individual IMCs there is in fact no reprise of any complete PMC in our AO. We will need to look slightly closer at this paradox between, on the one hand, a piece based on centripetal structure, ‘returning home’, i.e. objectively finishing in a similar material state to that in which it started (musicu and pictureu) and yet not ‘returning home’ completely, i.e. ending in a different affective state to that in which it started (musical processf and visual processf).

Let us try to clarify this paradox with the aid of some more important points in the Kojak theme. Using the assumption, presented earlier, that the permutation a®b®a does not equal permutation a®a®b, we argue that the perceptible affective properties of the second ‘a’ in each of these two processes differ, depending on whether it is a contiguous reiteration of the first ‘a’, leading into something new (e.g. ‘b’), or a reprise or recap of the first ‘a’ occurring after the presentation of something different to ‘a’ (e.g. ‘b’). In the Kojak theme the octave whoop of the first bar may be ‘objectively’ well-nigh identical to the octave whoops of b.23-26, but it does not necessarily carry identical affective meaning. There are four main reasons for this: (1) its development into a fully fledged heroic melodic line for 18 seconds (36% of the complete AO); (2) its temporary domination by the threatening musical environment for 6.7 seconds (13% of the piece); (3) its re-emergence as a fully fledged heroic melody for 8.7 more seconds (another 17½% of the whole piece and 30% of the AO left to go); (4) its identification with a strong visual figure — in fact the only one — shown simultaneously on the screen and this male individual’s mythical, superhuman relationship to his environment. None of these four aspects of the octave whoop were ‘known in advance’ in MP/VS1. They are ‘known’ in MP8 / VSs 6b-7. It would thus seem that both the ‘objective’ chronological A-B-A form or our ‘irrational’ centripetal structures visualising this process as regards the octave whoop may be considered insufficient.(We shall be dealing further with this problem in the next section). Let us look at the fourth of these points a little closer.

We have already treated the mythologisation of the visual figure Kojak in some detail (§8.4) and commented that it is underlined by the way in which certain parts of the musical environment also change their nature into material identified as peculiar to the figure, not the ground (bass, woodwind, accompanying strings, etc.). Two factors are important here: (1) the transformation of visual figure into a majestically rising visual environment which re-transforms itself into Kojak, first as a name, then as a figure; (2) the transfiguration of important, previously ‘hostile’ parts of the musical environment into the musical figure. These two factors will radically alter, through both musical and visual means, the listener’s/viewer’s affective attitude towards (a) figure, (b) ground and (c) the relation between the two.

In other words, neither musical nor visual Kojak, nor his environment, nor the relationship between the two are perceptually the same at the beginning and end of the piece, despite ‘objective’ appearances to the contrary. Because of the various processes enumerated on several occasions above, we find Kojak at the end of the piece to be without the negative affective traits associable with him at the outset. Moreover, his relation to environment has progressed (via various intervening stages) from ambiguous to dominant in favour of Kojak while his environment seems to preserve its effectively ambiguous character of light and yet dark, exhilarating and yet threatening.

We will therefore conclude that the general centripetal process we have described does not bring the listener back to the initial affective state at point(s) of reprise, but provides points of reference in the musical and visual material which will allow the viewer/listener to recognise the ‘objective’ reprise actually as a reprise; i.e. a restatement of the same material but with new and intra-objectively learned affective attributes.

Having discussed the generally centripetal processual character of the Kojak theme we shall now proceed to the final section of this thesis in which we intend to treat this centripetality not only in its congeneric function but as a perceptual pattern in itself.

9.3.4.3.4 The interpretation of centripetal and centrifugal processes as perceptual patterns per se

Let us revert for a moment to the paradox between the chronologically ‘objective’ central position of the contrasting 'B' section of a piece, its affective periphery (see fig. 54, 55) in A-B-A form and the chronologically ‘objective’ peripheral position of the 'A' section of the same piece (its affective centre point, home, basis, fulcrum, etc.). How, one may wonder, do transmitter and receiver of musical message deal with this basic contradiction between the flow of time and the flow of music?

A piece of music must start somewhere. In the popular music tradition of Western capitalist society a piece may start in a number of ways, e.g. with a direct statement of melodic figure in relation to its accompaniment, as an introduction without clearly defined figure or as a parlando rubato passage without clearly defined enivironment. The second of the three alternatives above seems most applicable to the start of the Kojak theme. Now, we mentioned earlier that one of the most common traits of popular music was the clear division of musical expression into affective message conveyed by (a) the melody, (b) the accompaniment and (c) the relation between the two. In accordance with Maróthy (1974: 19) we shall assume this convention of structuring musical expression to correspond to current modes whereby individuals in bourgeois culture learns to relate to their social, cultural and material environment. It would seem that one of the most salient features of the bourgeois ethic is monocentricity, i.e. the tendency to stress the relationship of the individual ego and its immediate intimate environment to the rest of existence at the expense of the following relationships: (a) between the ego and groups in society; (b) between various groups in society; (c) between various groups in society and the material world; (d) between societies; (e) between societies and the material world. An outlook which embraces many types of relationships (such as that between the individual and his environment together with the other types of relation enumerated above) may be called polycentric and is unusual in the culture of capitalist societies. The monocentric (egocentric) view, on the other hand, has been prevalent in our culture since the rise of the bourgeoisie and can be found in Western art music since the rise of monody in the late sixteenth century and since the advent of the picture-frame stage and monocentric perspective in drama and painting (Maróthy 1974:19). It is our contention that the Kojak theme also expresses such a view of the world.

In our AO the listener will probably hear the musical figure disappearing into the musical ground in MP1 at the same time as he sees the visual figure emerging from the visual ground (VS1). In this double process (and in the immediately subsequent MPs/VSs) it appears that a monocentric mode of visual and musical perception of the relationship between individual and environment is established which corresponds to the prevalent Weltanschauung of the majority of individual viewers in capitalist industrialised society. This view of the world in music and moving picture is also highly relevant to the singularly privatised act of watching television. It is therefore important in so short a work as the Kojak theme that the listener should be given an initial reference point in the music which corresponds as much as possible in its congeneric world view to that of the majority of listeners in their day-to-day existence. Thus, the initially ambiguous relation of musical figure to musical ground, where figure/individual/ego disappears into (almost seems to be swallowed up by) a hostile environment (‘ground’) outside the individual viewing subject, seems to correspond well to the monocentric affective relationship of many individuals in contemporary capitalist society to their own environment — a musical expression of alienation and powerlessness, so to speak.

This probable correspondence of monocentricity inside and outside the MW may be one of the more important aspects of significance in the generally centripetal processual pattern of the Kojak theme. Not only is the monocentric view of the world presented both musically and visually in the first MP/VS as initial extrageneric reference paint for the listener/viewer, centripetal monocentric processes also dominate the whole piece, referring congenerically back to the initial extrageneric reference point described above. These centripetal monocentric processes, accounted for in the preceding section (§9.3.4.3.1-3), all trace cardioids of varying complexity around our initial point of reference, leading their development back to this starting point, the point of transfer on the part of the listener from his/her position in ‘the flow of time’ into his position in the ‘flow of music’. This point of transfer is in other words a point of musical departure. This notion of ‘transfer’ may be schematised as in figure 91.

Fig. 91. Points of transfer from chronological time to musical time

In figure 91, passing time (outside the music and moving picture) is represented by the line P-Q. The ‘objective’ duration of the AO is represented the two points of ‘transfer’ Y and W, separated by fifty seconds along the unidimensional time axis P-Q. The flow of music is represented by the circle A-B-A in figure 91a. (R-V-R-V..... R6, see fig. 57, p.337); it is not expressed as a straight line in order to mark the fact that it is experienceable as a process in time which differs from the flow of time outside the MW. As we have already seen, the listener/viewer is transferred out of musical flow into chronological flow at the same point as he/she entered it musically (at A). In other words: while Y and W are different points in chronological time (separated by fifty seconds in the case of the Kojak theme), 'A' remains objectively the same as 'A' in the music. Listeners/viewers are ‘picked up’ at point Y in time whence they make a ‘transfer of entry’ to 'A' in the music which travels via 'B' before reaching 'A' again, at which point listeners/viewers make a ‘transfer of exit’, being ‘dropped off’ at the same point in the music but transferring to point W on the chronological time axis. Their musical ‘pick-up’ and ‘dropping off’ points are one and the same; they are returned ‘in tact’ to where they were before entering the musical flow.

However, as we have seen, although musical point A (home) at chronological point W (MP8-9/ VS7) is objectively similar to musical point A at chronological point Y (MP1/VS1), the congeneric affective significance of these two points in their syntactic context are not the same in that the initial ambiguity of figure (executioner/hired killer or hero?) and his relation to the intra-objective environment (dominant or dominated?) is dispersed during the course of the title sequences (A/Y®B® A/W) and replaced by a more certain representation of the figure as a hero and in control of his intra-objective environment. Thus the point of transfer/entry into the music (Y/A) — point of correspondence between affective extra-objective and intra-objective monocentricity — is not only used as a means of bridging the gap between the flow of time and the flow of music: it also reinforces and consolidates the generally prevailing monocentric Weltanschauung of individuals in bourgeois culture by presenting this outlook as a process which starts ‘realistically’, (i.e. the individual insufficient and yet overwhelming, dominated by and yet the dominant feature in a partly threatening, partly exhilarating Umweld), but which ends up ‘mythically’ (i.e. the individual unmistakably positive, potent, master of his environment). In this manner the viewer/listener may well return to the extrageneric world with affective monocentricity entrenched even deeper into the preconscious.

The musical and visual centripetal monocentricity we have attempted to describe here, together with its mythologisation and deification of figure in relation to ground (§8.4), may also be regarded as complementing the course of events in the various episodes following the signature. As we saw earlier (§5.3.2), the individual TV policeman ‘must be the hero... he must emerge victorious over the forces of evil... Unfortunately that isn’t always true in real life’. This type of poetic license or misrepresentation of reality, depending on how you view the matter, demands a good deal of mystification and mythical symbolism to convey such messages. As we have seen (§§7.2.6.1, 8.2, 8.4.1, 8.6), paradoxes, contradictions and inconsistencies are from uncommon in Kojak. As Horowitz (1977: 10) points out:

‘During recent years, four murders have been committed in my neighbourhood. None of the perpetrators were brought before justice. But at home on my television the police are 100% successful.’

In the original Kojak film (The Marcus Nelson Murders), our hero actually failed to protect an innocent black teenager who became a victim of blind justice, whereas the Kojak of the mass-produced television series ‘prevents murders left, right and centre’ (ibid.). In The Marcus Nelson Murders Kojak directed his aggression towards the systematised misuse of power, but in the mass-produced television series Kojak ‘reflects our anger but gives us no concrete context for our frustrations: his aggressiveness is general and diffuse - sexy’ (ibid.).

The ‘desocialisation’ of Kojak became even more untenable after the second television series when Savalas started to dictate programme content to a greater degree. This led to the resignation of Abby Mann, the show’s script writer, and to an even greater fixation on Kojak the individual rather than on his environment. These historical aspects of tendencies towards increasing monocentricity in the actual production of the series may well have its roots in the initial fallacy of presenting collective, social problems (crime, municipal bankruptcy, class contradictions, injustice, corruption, misery, unemployment, etc.) either as a picturesque, quasi-realistic, exciting backdrop for the actions of the hero or as non-collective, desocialised phenomena soluble by non-collective, individual action by one man. This obvious fallacy is underlined by the centripetal affective monocentricity of the Kojak theme itself. It is also emphasised by the function of our AO in connection with the episodes following it.

Taking into consideration the fact that the title music we have sought to analyse in this thesis is also performed in abbreviated form after each episode (b.5-16, b.26-28) we may regard its structure as centripetal (monocentric) both in itself and in relation to the episodes it preceded and followed.

Fig. 92. The Kojak theme’s centripetality in connection with ‘the story (episode)

Since the point of transfer into and out of the main title (before the episode) leads in and out of a process which is both intra-objectively centripetal (monocentric) and to a lesser extent affectively centrifugal (Kojak is not the same in MP1 as in MP8-9, appearances notwithstanding), it gives the viewer/listener an effectively conceptual starting point for the whole episode which follows. The story will then also progress from a state of ‘realistic’ uncertainty, ambiguity and threat (‘so much evil in the world’ and the obligatory murder before the first commercial break) to certainty about the phenomenal ability of ‘good’ in the form of one strong man to vanquish ‘evil’, or, as Savalas himself would have it, ‘My television police are 100% successful’ (cited by Horowitz, 1977: 10). This is a process from uncertainty about the real ability of an individual to cope as a ‘loner’ in an often hostile environment to certainty about the fictitious ability of a ‘loner’ in the same environment.

After the monocentrically fixated episode the abbreviated musical/visual centripetal processes of our AO are repeated, depositing the viewer/listener at the same point of mutual transfer in and out of the listening/viewing experience. It does not seem far-fetched to suggest that the viewer/listener has not only been ‘entertained’ in general terms but also been reinforced in a monocentric view of the world. Had the title sequences and the subsequent episode traced a more centrifugal type of process, perhaps listeners/viewers would have had to find their own way back from the intra-objective (musical/cinematographic) to the extra-objective world. For example, if the general intra-objective process had from the same point of transfer/entry taken a course towards a totally different goal (as in fig. 92b), let us say to an affective state without monocentric figure/ground dualism or to as many defeats of the individual by a hostile environment, or to a collective solution of the problem, then listeners/viewers might find the prevailing bourgeois monocentric view of the world questioned, challenged, perhaps weakened instead of consolidated or reinforced. The role of music in the main titles to Kojak should be clear in this context and discussion presented earlier in this thesis.

9.3.5 Conclusions

We will conclude this chapter by summarising some of the ideas presented about the interpretation of musical processes in our AO.

The visual and musical affective constants of the piece were found to create an overall mood of excitement, speed, modernity and energy in which a male individual was presented in relation to a dramatic, ambiguous (threatening yet exhilarating) North American metropolitan (New York) environment. Within this basic affective framework we found a number of musical and visual processes (affective variables) which pinpointed a division of the piece into specified areas of affective consistency. Varying degrees of congruity and disparity of musical and visual affect were found in these specified areas, building two main sets of processes:

1. (a) from ambiguity to certainty about the heroic nature of the male individual (mostly a musically determined process) and (b) from ambiguity to certainty about his domination of the figure/ground relationship thence to certainty about his domination by the ground;

2. (a) from certainty about the domination of figure by ground via ambiguity to a domination of environment by the male individual (a combined visual and musical process) and (b) from ambiguity to certainty about the heroic nature of the individual, a sort of reprise of m1a (above) but varied in that the individual is mythically deified by means of visual and musical emphasis and reconstruction of the individual by the environment.

Of twenty-five visual and musical processes, twenty-one were found to have a centripetal character whereas four took a centrifugal direction. Of these four centrifugal processes one (accompanying strings) was hardly perceptible while the other three were found to have two main functions: (1) to underline the general developments from ambiguity to certainty mentioned above and (2) to mark the end of the piece and to generate sufficient environmental excitement to carry affective interest over the double bar into the subsequent episodic action (dual function of finality of overture: end and bridge). The remaining twenty-one processes were found to constitute various groups of simultaneous affective development and can be interpreted as underlining the main processual complexes described above (i.e. from ambiguity to certainty about the heroic nature of the male individual and from ambiguity to certainty about the degree of control exerted by the male individual over his environment).

Finally we argued that the generally centripetal pattern of processes found in the Kojak theme may be connected to the prevailing monocentric Weltanschauung of many individuals in bourgeois culture and may be considered as instrumental in reinforcing this view of the world in preparation for the mythical presentation of collective problems (in Kojak’s case ‘Crime’) as though soluble by individual action in the subsequent episodic action.

 

10 CONCLUSIONS

This epilogue is divided into three parts. We shall firstly present a résumé of the most important conclusions drawn from our analysis of the Kojak theme in itself after which we shall summarise some critical problems posed by the methods we have used, finally suggesting areas of further research into this field of study.

10.1 The Kojak theme

1. The Kojak theme is main title for the first TV series Kojak, produced in 1973 by Universal City Studios.

2. Kojak was probably produced primarily for sale to commercial TV networks in the USA. Its broadcast (one episode) at peak viewing time could give the TV network buying the show between $30 000 and $70 000 in profit margin.

3. The Kojak theme preceded the 17 episodes in the first series and was heard by at least 100 000 000 people in over 70 different nations.

4. The Kojak theme was written by Mr William Leon (Billy) Goldenberg, Hollywood film music composer with classical schooling in composition.

5. It is written in a mixture of typically art music and popular music genres.

6. It has a typically popular music function.

7. Its general extrageneric functions are those of reveille, affective preparation and mnemonic identification.

8. It is scored for 4 flutes, 4 French Horns, 4 B$ trumpets, 3 trombones, Tuba, Xylophone, Timpani (5), Traps, Piano, Harp, 2 electric guitars, Electric Bass, Moog Sequencer, 3 violin parts (12 musicians?), violas (4?), cellos (4) and double basses (4?).[=? 50 musicians?].

9. Of the instrumental parts mentioned above the following were readily audible on our recording: horns, trombones, timpani, electric bass and moog.

10. It is in ABA form

11. lt contains 12 main audible musemes (plus variants).

12. Its basic compositional technique is melody/ accompaniment (figure/ground, individual/environment).

13. Its accompaniment consists of musemes expressing:

a) the atmosphere of a large American city, its subculture and aspects of unrest, unquiet, threat, danger and jerky, jabbing unpredictability.

b) general, constant, bustling activity, agitated and insistent but positive, shimmering and luminous (bright).

14. Its melody, played on heroic French horns a 4, consists of musemes expressing:

a) calls to attention and action upwards, onwards and outwards, virile and energetic.

b) strong, swaying, confident motion which propels the action into

c) the broad, bold confidence of virile, heroic, martial action.

15. Its harmonic language consists of musemes expressing positive modernity but perhaps also a slightly cold environment.

16. Its visual message is complementary to its musical message. The visual message is

a) based on the compositional technique figure/ground.

b) Its figure becomes heroic, superhuman.

c) Its ground is both dark and light, threatening and yet exhilarating.

17. The name Kojak is characterisable as non-WASP, Americanised with an affective/associational sphere of hardness, power and possibly modernity.

18. The Kojak theme consists basically of the development of a relationship between figure and ground. The male individual starts off as an ambiguously heroic and villainous figure on an unclear footing with-an effectively equally ambiguous environment. He is soon to become a clearly heroic figure who dominates his positive/negative and consistently exciting, bustling environment for some time before it in turn dominates him, increasing the threatening side of this bustling excitement. After this the male individual then dominates his ambiguous environment. He re-emerges from his situation as underdog to conquer the environmental threat and to be hailed by his environment as its master In the last three seconds of the piece the intensity of the hostile aspects of the environment increase once again.

19. The development described above is a combined visual (cinematographic) and musical process.

20. The Kojak theme betrays and reinforces a basically monocentric view of the world thanks to its centripetal structure and its affective emphasis of the fallacy that the negative experience of a hostile Umweld can be overcome by individual action only.

10.2 Practical application of analytical method

As author of this dissertation, I am also steeped in the monocentric Weltanschauung of bourgeois culture. I will therefore attempt to ‘deposit’ readers at the point where they ‘entered’ this thesis, using standard, centripetal ABA form.

The object was to ‘present methods of analysing the affective content of popular music and to raise certain questions of musical aesthetics involved in the performance and reception of popular music’. I undertook a detailed analysis of the Kojak theme (u, f) in order to demonstrate the analysis method to its full.

Judging from the time it took to write this thesis, measurable in years rather than in terms of the hours it probably took to produce the actual AO, the analysis methods seem clumsy and inefficient to say the least: what took fifty seconds to receive in its original non-verbal state probably took the reader a number of days or perhaps even weeks to ‘receive’ in its analysed form. Such time perspective makes the chronological proportions of Sterne’s Tristram Shandy or Joyce’s Ulysses (the time taken to write the books in relation to the time taken for the action in the books to take place) seem quite reasonable. How, readers may well wonder, can the methods presented here be used in music education, in the discussion of cultural policy and in other fields of practical application set out in our pragmatic point-de-départ if they mean that 49.7 seconds of music takes two and a half year to analyse. This objection is perfectly legitimate and calls for some explanations.

If we were to analyse or explain in cognitive, rationalist verbal terms what exactly happens in another type of non-verbal communication, for example when someone strokes the cheek of a loved one and looks longingly into his/her eyes, we would find ourselves up against a similar problem. Everyone who has experienced such a situation will, when involved, automatically feel and respond to a whole complex of biological, social, cultural, psychological and neurological signs and stimuli, all necessary to the communication of this gesture and its immanent meaning. Lots of ‘things’ will ‘happen’ to the individuals involved in this act of non-verbal communication which might occupy the duration of two or three seconds while at the same time sparking off affective reactions based possibly on childhood experience, future expectations, feelings of life, death, existence, eternity, etc., not to mention all the physiological aspects involved.

The analysis of musical message is problematic in a similar way to the analysis of the caress just described. It is difficult to explain music in rational terms, a point made on several occasions in this thesis. Nevertheless, whereas it may seem rather pointless to give a rational, scientific account of what happens when the cheek of a loved one is caressed, since this type of non-verbal communication takes place between individuals and is without direct societal consequences, the explanation and analysis of the affective message of popular music is on the other hand a necessary task due to its simultaneously ‘private’ (psychological, individual reactions) and ‘public’ (socio-economic, cultural, ideological aspects) character. Nor should the analysis of the Kojak theme presented in this thesis be merely seen as a single study of an isolated musical work. Instead it is intended to serve as a manifestation of the theoretical rationale of our method. The presentation of this logical basis of method is also a complex undertaking.

Assuming the normal approach to music to be non-verbal, ‘intuitive’, ‘subjective’, etc., the epistemology of music must seek to bridge gaps between this type of emotive, affective experience and the prevailing tradition of one-sided rationalism in the academic world. It is therefore no surprise to find a large number of methodological stumbling blocks in this epistemological confrontation. These stumbling blocks are particularly noticeable in the part of this thesis dealing with the interpretation of congeneric aspects of musical meaning where the rationalist approach becomes totally insufficient, leading to a collection of contradictions when faced with the task of explaining such ‘objective’ paradoxes as those between ‘objective time’ and intersubjectively observed (and therefore equally ‘objective’) ‘musical time’ or between ‘chronological centre and periphery’ and ‘affective centre and periphery’. However, our method seems less problematic in connection with musematic analysis.

We should also point out that the degree of rational argument used in this thesis, although unavoidable and necessary at this stage of research, must be considered as only partially relevant in the practical educational fields of application we mentioned in chapter one. It is our opinion that awareness (at a conscious, even cognitive level) about how popular music influences the listener and different groups of listeners can be more efficiently created by a lesser degree of verbal, cognitive reasoning than that used in this thesis and a greater degree of non-verbal information in the form of effectively complementary and contradictory juxtapositions of message. The possibilities of using movement, vision, drama, clothing, facial expression, associative thought, etc. as metalanguages for musical expression should also be examined in greater detail. In other words, due to the inherently affective nature of musical discourse, its epistemology must be based on the registration of listener reactions. This presupposes both affective and rational mental activity and these should be seen as complementing, not contradicting each other.

10.3 Further research

The original title of this thesis was Kojak – 50 sekunders TV-musik: en pilotprojekt i popular-musikalisk affectanalys (Tagg 1978). A pilot project is by definition a preparatory or introductory guide, an experimental study. This is why we have subtitled the English version towards the analysis of affect in popular music. It should be obvious that such inchoate research must be followed up: it is not complete.

We have attempted to present workable models for the analysis of affect in popular music which have yet to be tested (‘verified’, ‘falsified’) by social science method. The difficulties of constructing reliable tests of affective reactions in the popular music listening situation have already been mentioned. This is one important problem to overcome in future research. Some of our hypotheses (mostly on the congeneric level) have yet to be developed into workable models for future testing. Moreover, we have yet to develop adequate educational forms for the non-academic presentation of the ideas propounded in this thesis. This is probably the most important part of future research.

These three main points are included in the author’s research plan for 1979-1981 and it is hoped that a number of problems raised in this thesis may reach a greater degree of clarification in the near future.

 

 

 

(Göteborg and Lancaster, 1977-1979).

 

(Scanned, retyped, edited in Liverpool, 1998-2000).

 

P Tagg: Kojak – 50 Seconds of TV Music (1999-2000 edition) — E:\M55\KOJAK\Kjconl.fm 13-01-03

 

Bibliography

Abbreviations

ABF = Arbetarnas Bildningsförbund (Swedish Workers’ Education Association)

GMH = Musikhögskolan i Göteborg (College of Music)

GMV = Musikvetenskapliga institutionen vid Göteborgs universitet (Department of Musicology)

IRASM = The International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music

SOU = Statens offentliga utredningar (Swedish government white papers)

UE = Universal Edition (Vienna)

 

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— (1974). ‘The Wild One’. In Limbacher (1974): 120-122.

Stikvoort, F; Stikvoort, J; Goethart, J (eds.) (1972). Popkatalogus - Popzamelwerk 3. Komplete 1963-72 uitgave met 3500 LP’s. Delft: Popzamelwerk.

Stockmann, Doris (1970). ‘Musik als kommunikative System: informations- und zeichentheoretische Aspekte inbesondere bei der Forschung mündlich tradierter Musik’. Deutsches Jahrbuch der Musikwissenschaft für 1969. Leipzig.

Stöhr, Richard (c.1910). Formenlehre der Musick. Frankfurt-am-Main/Leipzig: Hofmeister.

—(1917). Musikalische Formenlehre. Leipzig.

Stoïanova, Ivanka (1978). Geste - texte - musique. Paris: Ugé.

Straarup, Ole (1977). ‘Muzak’. Sohlmans Musiklexikon, 2: 669-70.

Stravinsky, Igor (1960). Poetics of Music. New York: Vintage.

— ; Craft, Robert (1959). Conversations with Igor Stravinsky. London: Faber; New York: Doubleday.

Strunk, Oliver (ed). (1952). Source Readings in Music History. London: Faber.

Sundberg, Johann (1972). ‘Naturvetenskaplig metodik i musikforskning’. Svensk tidskrift för musikforskning, 54: 103-114.

— (1974). ‘Musikvetenskap, semiotik och neurpsykologi’. Svensk tidskrift för musikforskning, 56/1:

59-60.

— (1976). ‘Generativ Musikteori’. Sohlmans Musiklexikon, 3: 91-92.

Sundin, Bertil (1977). Barnets musikaliska värld. Lund: Liber Läromedel.

Sundström E. ; Stenkvist, L. (1977). ‘Korngold’. Sohlmans Musiklexikon, 4:172.

Svensktoppen 1962-1974. (1975). Vara: Dominique Muzic-Club.

Sveriges Radios Årsbok (= Yearbook of Swedish Broadcasting) [for the period of 1958-1977]. Stockholm: Sveriges Radio.

Sveriges Radios Publikundersökningar (=Radio & TV audience research in Sweden). See Publik och Programmforskning.

Tagg, Philip (1966). ‘Pop Music as a Possible Means of Education in Secondary Schools’. Manchester: Department of Education. Unpublished dissertation.

— (1972). Lite om den nordindiska klassiska musikens teori och praxis. Göteborg: SÄMUS/GMH.

—(1973). Sentimentalitet i 1800-talets Musikspråk (= Sentimentality in the musical langage of the 19th Century) GMH. unpub. mimeo

— (1975). Pop i örat. Stockholm: Sveriges Radio/UTR Prod. Nr. 5924.

—(1977a). Förslag till Checklista vid Musikanalys (= Suggested Check list for Musical Analysis) GMV: unpub. mimeo.

— (1977b). Populärmusik och medierna. Stockholm: ABF.

—(1978). ‘Kojak- 50 sekunders musik i svensk TV. Ett pilotstudium i populärmusikalisk affekt analys’. GMV.

— (1984). Understanding ‘Time Sense’. Tvärspel Festskrift till Jan Ling. Göteborg: Skrifter från Musikvetenskapliga institutionen, 9: 21-43.

— (1994). ‘From refrain to rave: the decline of figure and the rise of ground’. Popular Music, 13/2: 209-222.

— (2000a). Fernando the Flute (2nd edition). New York: Mass Media Music Scholars’ Press.

— ; Clarida, Robert (2000). Ten Little Title Tunes. New York: Mass Media Musicologists’ Press.

— ; Malm, Krister; Tegen, Martin; Silén, Lars (1979). ‘Popmusik’. Sohlmans musiklexikon, 5: 90-100.

— ; Malmström, Dan; Silén, Lars (1975). ‘Country and Western’. Sohlmans musiklexikon, 2: 141-144.

Tarasti, Eero (1978). Myth and Music - A Semiotic Approach to the Aesthetics of Music, especially that of Wagner, Sibelius and Stravinsky. Helsinki: Suomen Musiikkitieteellinen Seura.

Teiner, Manfred (1974). ‘The Influence of the Mass Media on Children between the Age’. In Bontinck (1974): 192-197.

Thorgerson, Storm and Dean, Roger (eds.) (1974). The Album Cover Album. Limpsfield (GB): Dragons World Book.

Thorsén, Stig-Magnus (1976a). ‘Två sätt att använda musik under arbetet” (=Two Ways of Using Music while you Work). Ny Dag nr. 83 (1976-11-03/4)

— (1976b). ‘Vad Menas Med Kommersiell Musik?’ (= What is meant by Commerical Music?)

— (1977a). ‘Musiken i en Pingstförsamling -en arbetsrapport om musikverksamheten. delrapport i Samhällsinriktad Musikvetenskap II. ’ (= Music in a Pentecostal Congregation- report no. 2 in Socially Applied Musicology). GMV, Jan 1977. Unpubl. mimeo.

—(1977b). För musiken i tiden. Laborationer i svensk musik. Stockholm: Sveriges Radio UTB.

Thoveron, Gabriel (1974). ‘Leisure Time Behaviour and Cultural Attitude of the Youth: International research’. In Bontinck (1974): 226-229.

Tio-i-topp: uppslagsverk med samtliga artister och melodier, 1961-1974 (1975). Vara: Dominique Muzic-Club, Längjum.

Tiomkin, Dimitri (1974). ‘Composing for Films’. In Limbacher (1974): 55-61.

Tjäder, P A (ed.) (1975). Klasskamp och kultur. Göteborg: Arbetarkultur.

Tunstall, Jeremy (1977). The Media are American. London: Constable.

Valkman, Otto (1974). ‘Some Methodological Aspects of Preferences in Pop Music’. In Bontinck (1974): 33-43.

Varis, Tapio (1975). The Impact of Transnational Corporations on Communication. Tampere Peace Research Institute Reports, 10.

Veckans Affärer. (1975). 751120:19-26. ‘Marknadskriget Vinnare 1975: Imprten och Lyxvarorna’; ‘Vinnare: vin och kassetter’. (= Winners in 1975 market War: Imprt and Luxury goods, especially wine and cassettes).

Vega, Carlos (1966). ‘“Mesomusic”. An essay on the music of the masses’. Ethnomusicology, 10.

Vitanyi, Ivan (1974). ‘The Musical and Social Influence of Beat Music in Hungary’.

In Bontinck (1974): 69-79.

Vulliamy, Graham; Lee, Ed (1976). Pop Music in School. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Vulliamy, Graham (1977). ‘Music as a Case Study in the “New Sociology of Education”’. Whose Music? A Sociology of Musical Languages, pp. 201-232, ed. J Shepherd et al. London: Latimer.

Wale, Michael (1972). Voxpop. Profiles of the Pop Process. London: Harrap.

Wallner, Bo. (1957). Det musikaliska formstudiet. Stockholm: Nordiska Musikförlaget.

— (1973). Musiksvenska (= Musical Swedish). Stockholm: Accent/ Rikskonserter.

Walton, William (1974). ‘Music for Shakespearean Films’. In Limbacher (1974): 129-131.

Warner Brothers (1973). The Music Department (booklet accompanying the 2 triple albums 50 Years of Film Music and 50 years of Film). Burbank: Warner Bros.

Warren, Roland L. (1972). ‘The Nazi Use of Music as an Instrument of Social Control’. In Denisoff & Peterson (1972): 72-78.

Wedin, Lage (1969). ‘Dimension Analysis of the Perception of Musical Style’. Scandinavian Journal of Psychology, 1969.

—(1972) . ‘Multidimensional Scaling of Emotional Expression in Music’. Svensk Tidskrift för Musikforskning, 54. Stockholm: : 115-131.

Wertheimer, Max (1925). Experimentelle Studien über das Sehen von Bewegung. Erlangen.

Wessman, Maria (1977). ‘Schabloner i Popmusik - en analys av Elton John’s dubbel LP Yellow Brick Road. GMH: unpubl. mimeo.

Westrup, J A (1946). Purcell. London: Dent.

Whitburn, Joel (ed.) (1972a). Top Pop Records 1955-1970. Detroit: Gale Research.

— (1972b) (ed.). Top Country and Western Records, 1949-1971. Menemonee Falls (WI): Record Research.

— (1973a) (ed.). Top LP’s 1945-1972. Menomonee Falls (WI): Record Research.

— (1973b) (ed.). Top Pop Records 1945-1972. Menomonee Falls (WI): Record Research.

— (1973c) (ed.). Top Pop Records 1940-1955. Menomonee Falls (WI): Record Research.

Whitcomb, Ian (1972). After the Ball. London: Penguin.

Wicke, Peter (1978). “Licht in das Dunkel” - Popumusik in der Analyse. Beiträge zur Musikwissenschaft, 20/1: 3-15.

Wiik, Max (ed). (1973). Memory Lane. Ragtime, Jazz, Foxtrot and other Popular Music Covers. London: Studio International.

Wilder, Alec (1972). American Popular Song. New York: Oxford University Press.

Williams, Raymond (1974). Television - Technology and Cultural Form. London: Fontana.

Williams, Richard (1974). Out of his Head - the Sound of Phil Spector. London: Abacus.

Willis, Paul (1974). ‘Youth Groups in Birmingham and their Specific Relation to Pop Music’.

In Bontinck (1974): 108-113.

Winkler, Max (1974). ‘The Origins of Film Music’. In Limbacher (1974): 15-24.

Wolf, William (1974). ‘Facing the Music: why Movie Scores are usually so Awful’.

In Limbacher (1974): 51-54.

Young, Percy (1947). Handel. London: Dent.

Zoltai, Dénes (1970). Ethos und Affekt. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag.

Zuckerkandl, Victor (1969). Sound and Symbol. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

List of Musical References

 

This list enumerates references to any musical or audiovisual work, mediated in any way (e.g. score, sheet music, sound recording, video recording, radio broadcast, TV broadcast, film on public release, public performance), which is either mentioned in the main text of this book, or which has functioned as background repertoire for purposes of interobjetive comparison (see §5).

 

Abbreviations

8 = music credit

B&H = Boosey & Hawkes

C20 Fox = Twentieth Century Fox

FMAKB = Filmmusik (Musik-Aktuell Klangbeispiele), q.v.

GHFTVT = Golden Hour of Favourite TV Themes, q.v.

GWFTC = Great Western Film Themes Collection, q.v.

n.d. = no date, i.e. year of publication/composition/first performance, etc. not known

SvTV1/2 = Sveriges Television ( Swedish TV, channel 1 or 2)

SRP1/2/3 = Sveriges Radio, Program 1/2/3 (Swedish Radio, channel 1, 2 or 3)

TGH78= Television’s Greatest Hits from the 70s and 80s, q.v.

TGHLC = Television’s Greatest Hits In Living Color, q.v.

TGHV1 = Television’s Greatest Hits, Volume 1, q.v.

TGHV2 = Television’s Greatest Hits, Volume 2, q.v.

TLOT = Themes Like Old Times, q.v.

UA = United Artists

UE = Universal Edition

 

 

Listing

 

Abba (1975). Abba’s Greatest Hits: Epic 69218.

Adam, L; Strouse, C (n.d.). ‘Those Were The Days’, TV theme for ‘All in the Family’. On GHFTVT.

Addison, John (1963). ‘Tom Jones’ - Main Title. Twenty Original Soundtracks, Vol 2: Yesterday Gold YDG 74640 (1989). Underscore on UA 3376/6376 (1963).

Alexander Nevsky (Eisenstein, 1938). 8Prokofiev.

Allington-Barnard, Charlotte: see Claribel

Anderson, Leroy (1954). ‘The Typewriter’. Family Fun with Familiar Music, RCA Victor LM 2549 (1961, Boston Pops Orchestra). Also as recorded by Leroy Anderson and Orchestra on Decca DL 9799 (1954), Decca DL 8865 (1959), Decca / Ace of Hearts AH 118 and Coral COPS 4699 (1972), as well as by: Allen Hanlon (guitar), Golden Crest CR 3012 (1957); Werner Mller und sein Orchester, London SP 44057 (1966) and Decca SLK 16855 (1969); [3] The Eastman Rochester Pops Orchestra, Mercury MG 50043 (1958); [4] The Pops Concert Orchestra, Brunswick OE 9357 (1958); [5] Kurt Wege & Orchstra, MGM 4075 (1962).

Andersson, Lena (1971). Är det konstigt att man längtar bort från stan? Off-air Svensktoppen, SRP3.

The Andros Targets (CBS TV 1977-78). Episode ‘Hett Uppslag’ off-air SvTV1 (1977).

Angerer, Paul (1946). Musica pro Organo. Vienna: UE.

Anka, Paul (1959). Lonely Boy: ABC Paramount P 211 or Paramount 10022.

Apu Sansar/The World of Apu (Satyajit Ray, 1959). 8Ravi Shankar.

Arlen, Howard (1933). ‘It’s Only A Paper Moon’. On GHFTVT.

— (1939). ‘Over The Rainbow’. The Wizard of Oz. New York: T B Harms.

Ashley, Clarence ‘Tom’ (n.d.). ‘The Coo-Coo Bird’. The Folk Box: Folkways. Re-issued on Rounder 40029 (1992).

Axt, William; Mendoza, David (1926). ‘Don Juan’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

Bach, Johann Sebastian (1721). Brandenburg Concerto no. 3 in G, BWV 1048. Paris: Heugel H 31421 (n.d.).

— (1722). Das Wohltemperiertes Klavier Band I. Leipzig: Breitkopf und Härtel (n.d.).

— (1724). Passion according to Saint John. London: Novello (1929). Also as Johannes-Passion, Vienna: Wiener Philharmonischer Verlag AG no. 101.

— (1729). Passion according to Saint Matthew. London: Novello no. 15454 (1938). Also as Matthäus-Passion, autograph MS by Hans Grischkat (1929), reprinted/reedited by Hans Grischkat, London, Zürich, New York: Eulenburg (1961).

— (1729). Orgelbüchlein (vol. XV of J S Bach’s Organ Works). London: Novello (1957).

— (1744). Das Wohltemperiertes Klavier Band II. Leipzig: Breitkopf und Härtel (n.d.).

Bacharach, Burt (1969). ‘Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head’. Movie Memories: Music For Pleasure MFP 50438 (1975). Also on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid: A&M 4227 (1969).

Background Music for Home Movies. Folkways FX 6111 (1965).

Band, The (1968). ‘The Weight’. Music from Big Pink: Capitol ST 2955. Also on The Band Anthology Vol. 1: Capitol CDP 7 48419 2 (1990).

Barry, John (1964). The Ipcress File: Columbia 2493/9293.

— (1966) ‘Born Free’. Title theme on Les plus celèbres musiques de film: MGM 2624 011 (1979). Entire soundtrack on MGM 4368.

— (1968). ‘The Dove’. Title theme on Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976).

— (1969). See Midnight Cowboy.

— (1975). The Best of Bond (original soundtracks): UA UAS 29021. Themes and extracts from Dr No (1962), From Russia With Love (1963), Goldfinger (1964), Thunderball (1965).

Bartók, Béla (1909). String Quartet 1, op.7. Milan: Edizioni Suvini Zerboni (1954).

— (1917). String Quartet 2, op.17. London: B&H (1939).

— (1927). String Quartet 3. Vienna: UE (1929).

— (1923). Dance Suite. London: B&H (1939).

— (1928). String Quartet 4. Vienna: UE (1929).

— (1934). String Quartet 5. Vienna: UE (1936).

— (1936). Music for Strings, Percussion & Celesta. Vienna: UE (1937).

— (1938). Violin Concerto no. 2. London: B&H (1941).

— (1939). String Quartet 6. London: B&H (1941).

— (1940). Mikrokosmos, vols. V-VI. London: B&H.

— (1943). Concerto for Orchestra. London: B&H (1946).

Bassey, Shirley (1965). Goldfinger (Barry): UA 790.

Beatles, The (1962). With the Beatles: Parlophone PCS 3045.

— (1964). Beatles for Sale: Parlophone PCS 3062.

— (1965). Rubber Soul: Parlophone PCS 3075.

— (1966). Revolver: Parlophone PCS 7009.

— (1967a). Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band: Parlophone PCS 7027.

— (1967b). Magical Mystery Tour: Capitol SMAL 2835.

— (1969). Abbey Road: Parlophone PCS 7088.

Bee-Gees, The (1977). Stayin’ Alive. Saturday Night Fever. Paramount Video VHR 4666 (1998). Soundtrack album RSO RS 2-4001 (1977).

Beethoven, Ludwig van (1804). Symphony no. 3 in Eb Major (Eroica). London: Eulenburg 405 (n.d.).

— (1808). Symphony no.5 in C Minor, op.67. Paris: Heugel, H 31411 (n.d.).

Ben Hur (Wyler, 1959). MGM, 8Rózsa.

Bennett, Richard Rodney (1963). Billy Liar: Atco 170.

Berlioz, Hector (1830). Symphonie fantastique. New York: W W Norton (1971).

— (1839). Roméo et Juliette, op.17. Karlsruhe: Eulenburg (1900).

— (1840). Grande symphonie funèbre et triomphale. Kassel: Bärenreiter/Eulenburg no. 8622 (n.d.).

— (1862). La prise de Troie. New York: Kalmus no. 515 (n.d.).

— (1863). Les Troyens à Carthage. New York: Kalmus no. 516 (n.d.).

Bernstein, Elmer (1956). The Ten Commandments (Overture). Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976). Also on Twenty Original Soundtracks, Vol 3: Yesterday Gold YDG 74641 (1989).

— (1964). The Carpetbaggers (main theme). Ava S-45.

— (1966). The Magnificent Seven. I Magnifici 7 - “The Return of the 7”. Liberty 3C 054-83185 (Italy).

— (1968). The Scalphunters. On GWFTC.

Bernstein, Leonard (1954). On The Waterfront: Columbia Tristar VHS CVR 30017 (1995). Original LP Columbia 5651/6251.

— (1957). West Side Story (Vocal Score). New York: Chappell. Soundtrack of original Broadway version on Columbia 2070 (1961).

Bilk, Acker (1961). Stranger On The Shore: Columbia DB 4750.

Billy Liar (John Schlesinger, 1963). 8Bennett, R R.

Blakey, Art (1961). Les liaisons dangereuses (soundtrack): Epic 16022.

Blood Sweat and Tears (1969). Blood Sweat and Tears (second album): CBS CS 63504 (UK); Columbia CS 9720 (US).

Blow Up (Antonioni, 1966). MGM. 8Hancock, Herbie.

Bolling, Claude (19970). Borsalino. Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976).

Borodin, Alexander Porfiryovich (1880). On the Steppes of Central Asia. London: Eulenburg EE 4405 (n.d.).

Brazil 66 with Sergio Mendes (1969). ‘The Wichita Lineman’ (Campbell). Ve-Me-Le. A&M 4236; also as single A&M 1132.

Brecker Brothers, The (1975). Some Skunk Funk.The Brecker Brothers: Arista AL 4037.

The Brides of Fu-Manchu (Fu Manchu Films, 1966). 8Johnny Douglas.

Britten, Benjamin (1936). Night Mail: GPO Pictures. Off-air recording from Danish TV (1978).

— (1961). War Requiem. London: B&H (1962).

Brooks, Mel (1977). ‘Springtime For Hitler’. The Producers: Embassy Pictures. Off-air recording, TV3 (Scandinavia, 16 October 1988).

The Brothers (BBC TV 1972). Off-air SRTV1.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (C20 Fox 1969). 8Bacharach.

Byrd, William (1591). ‘The Battle’ (nos. 28-39: ‘The March of the Foot’, ‘The March of the Horse’, ‘The Trumpets’ and ‘The Battle Joined’. Elizabeth Rogers Hir Virginall Booke. New York: Dover (1975).

Byrds, The (1969). ‘Wasn’t Born To Follow’. The Notorious Byrd Brothers: Columbia CS 9575; also featured in Easy Rider, q.v.

Calchakis, Los (1968). ‘El condor pasa’. La flûte indienne: Barclay Panache 920014. Also on Simon & Garfunkel (1970).

Cale, J J (1976). ‘Cocaine’. Troubadour: Mercury 810 001-2.

Camp on Blood Island (Hammer Films 1958). 8Gerard Schurmann.

Campbell, Glen (1968). The Wichita Lineman. Capitol 2302.

Cannon (1970). CBS TV/Quinn Martin. Off-air SRTV1 (1973). 8John C Parker.

Casablanca (1942). Warner Brothers. MGM/UA Home Video PES 99217 (1992). 8Steiner.

Chamberlain, Richard (1962). Dr Kildare Theme (‘Three Stars Will Shine Tonight’): MGM 1160.

Chopin, Frédéric (1839). Marche funèbre from Sonata no. 2 in B$ minor, op.35 . Home Series of the Great Masters, 5 (ed. E Haywood). London: Keith Prowse (1938).

Claribel (n.d.). ‘I Cannot Sing The Old Songs’. Selected Songs for Ladies’ Voices. London: George Newnes (c. 1920).

Clayton, Merrie (1975). Keep Your Eye On The Sparrow (Baretta’s Theme): Ode 66110.

Coates, Eric (1972). ‘The Forsyte Saga’ (‘Elizabeth Tudor’ from ‘The Three Elizabeths Suite’). The World of TV Themes, q.v.

Cobine, Al (arr., 1977). Dr Hekyl and Mr Jive. Lebanon (IN): Studio P/R Inc. S 7705.

Coltrane, John (1962). ‘Tungee’ and ‘Miles Mood’. Coltrane: Impulse S-21.

— (1968). Meditations: Impulse S-A-9110.

— (n.d.). Love Supreme: Impulse S-77.

Cooper, Alice (1972-3). ‘Under My Wheels’ (1972); ‘School’s Out’ (1972); ‘No More Mr Nice Guy’ (1973). All on Alice Cooper’s Greatest Hits: Warner Brothers W 2803 (1974).

Congregational Praise. London: Independent Press (1950).

Copland, Aaron (1941). Billy The Kid Ballet Suite. London: B&H, no. 16725 (1942). Also on Copland, Ives, Rachmaninov Orchestral Works. Vox Box 11 5844 2 (1993).

Cul-de-Sac (Polanski, 1965). Compton-Tekli. 8Krysztof Komeda.

Curtis, King. Memphis Soul Stew: Atco 6511 (1967).

Dankworth, Johnny (1961). Saturday Night and Sunday Morning: London 44020.

— (1965). Darling (soundtrack): Epic 24195/26195 (1965).

Darby, Ken. See Newman & Darby.

Davis, Colin (n.d.). ‘The World At War’ (Thames TV). On Hatch (1974).

Davis, Miles (1957). Ascenseur pour l’échaffaud: Fontana 135 (UK) and Fontana 600213 (France). Theme also on Twenty Original Soundtracks, Vol 3: Yesterday Gold YDG 74641 (1989).

— (1959). ‘So What’. Kind of Blue: Columbia CL 1355 (UK) and CBS 8163 (US). Also as transcribed by Per-Gunnar Alldahl and Carl-Axel & Monika Dominique in Jazzprojektet: Musikhögskolan i Stockholm (1971).

— (1970). Bitches Brew: CBS 64010.

Davis (Jr.), Sammy (1975). Baretta (Keep Your Eye on the Shadow): 20th Century S 64010/64011 (US).

Dawn (featuring Tony Orlando) (1973). Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree: Bell 45318 (US).

Debussy, Claude (1899). Trois Nocturnes. London: Eulenburg EE 6323 (n.d.). Also on CBS Masterworks MDK 44645 (1983).

— (1901). Pour Le Piano. Paris: Jobert.

— (1902). Pelléas et Mélisande (vocal score). Paris: Durand 6953 (1907).

— (1905). La mer. Paris: Durand. Also as recorded on CBS Masterworks MDK 44645 (1983) and CBS Odyssey MBK 44804 (1988).

— (1910). Préludes, 1. Paris: Durand.

Deep Purple (1975). Come Taste the Band: Warner Brothers PR 2895.

Deutsch, Adolf (1940-41). Extracts from ‘Castle on the Hudson’ (1940), ‘High Sierra’ (1941), ‘The Maltese Falcon’ (1941). Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

The Devils (Ken Russell, 1971). Ken Russell/R H Solo/Warner. 8Peter Maxwell-Davies; medieval music arr. 8David Munrow)

Dial M For Murder (Hitchcock, 1954). 8Tiomkin.

Doctor No (T Young, 1962). Eon/MGM/UA. Video MGM/UA PES 99210 (1992). 8 Barry, J; Norman, M.

Doctor Zhivago (David Lean, 1965). MGM. 8Jarre, M (1965).

Dorsey, Tommy (and Orchestra) (1958). Tea for Two Cha-Cha: Decca 30704 (US).

Easy Rider (Hoppper, 1969). Pando/Raybert. Soundtrack album on ABC ABCL 5005 (1969). Steppenwolf: ‘The Pusher’ and ‘Born To Be Wild’; The Holy Modal Rounders: ‘If You Want To Be A Bird’; The Fraternity of Man: ‘Don’t Bogart Me’; Jimi Hendrix: ‘If Six Was Nine’; The Electric Prunes: ‘Kyrie Eleison Mardi Gras’; Roger McGuinn: ‘It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)’ and ‘Ballad Of Easy Rider’; The Byrds: ‘Wasn’t Born To Follow’; Smith: ‘The Weight’.

Eddy, Duane (1962). The Ballad of Palladin (R Boone; S Rolfe; J Western): RCA 8047 / RCA 1300.

Edwards, Michael & Green, Bud (1937). Once In A While. New York: Mills Music.

Ellis, Don (1971). The New Don Ellis Band Goes Underground: CBS 63680.

Elgar, Edward (1932). ‘Nimrod’, no. 9 of The Enigma Variations, op.36, arranged for organ by W H Harris. London: Novello (n.d.)

Engström, Bengt Olof and Cederlöf, Egil (eds., 1970). Vi gör musik. Stockholm: Ehrlingförlagen.

Faith, Percy and his Orchestra (1960). Theme from A Summer Place (M Steiner): Columbia 41490 (US) and on LP Bouquet, Columbia 8124 (US). Also extract from film on Fifty Years of Film, Warner 3XX 2737 (1973).

— (1962). ‘The Virginian’. Covered on GHFTVT.

Falla, Manuel de (1919). The Miller’s Dance (farruca from El sombrero de tres picos). London: William Hansen/J & W Chester. Also as recorded on Viva España! the Music of Spain: Naxos 8550174 (1988).

Farnaby, Giles (c.1600). Seventeen Pieces (ed. T Dart). London: Stainer and Bell (1957).

The FBI (1965-1973). Warner TV/Quinn Martin. 8Kaper.

Fifty Years of Film: Warner 3XX 2737 (1973).

Fifty Years of Film Music: Warner 3XX 2736 (1973).

Filmmusik (Musik Aktuell-Klangbeispiele). Bärenreiter Musicaphon BM 30 SL 5104/05, ed. H-C Schmidt (1982).

Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, volumes I & II, ed. J A Fuller-Maintland and B Squire. New York: Dover (1963). Facsimile of original Breitkopf und Härtel edition (Leipzig, 1899).

Flatt, Lester & Scruggs, Earl (1968). Foggy Mountain Breakdown – Theme from Bonny and Clyde: Mercury 72739 (US).

La flûte indienne (1968). Barclay Panache 920014.

FMAKB. See Filmmusik (Musik-Aktuell Klangbeispiele).

Folkets Sångbok (1946). Stockholm: Arbetarkultur.

Folk och rackare (1978). Rackarspel. YTF 50241 (1978). See also Ulf & Karin.

Forsell, Yngve (and orchestra) (1973). Så gick det till när farfar var ung. Off-air Svensktoppen, SRP3.

Franklin, Aretha (1968). Since You’ve Been Gone. Atlantic 2486 (US).

Friedhofer, Hugo (1961). ‘One Eyed Jacks’. On GWFTC

— & Newman, Alfred (1953). Extract from ‘Hondo’. Fifty Years of Film: Warner 3XX 2737 (1973)

Frontiere, Dominic (1968). ‘Hang 'em High’. GWFTC.

Gershwin, George (1935). Porgy and Bess. New York: Chappell.

— (1938). I Was Doing All Right. New York: G Gershwin Publishing Co.

GHFTVT. See Golden Hour of Favourite TV Themes.

Gibbons, Orlando (c.1612). See, the Word Is Incarnate. London: Stainer and Bell (1925).

Gibbons, Steve (and band) (1976). Any Road Up: Polydor 2383 381.

— (1977). Rollin’ On: Polydor 2383 433.

Gilberto, Astrud & João with Stan Getz (1964). The Girl from Ipanema (A C Jobim): Verve 10323.

The Go-Between (Losey, 1971). Columbia/John Heyman/MGM-EMI/Norman Priggen. 8Michel Legrand.

Gold, Ernest (1960). Exodus (main theme): UA 3122/6122, 3123/6123, 3303/6603. Also on Twenty Original Soundtracks, Vol 2: Yesterday Gold YDG 74640 AAD (1989).

Golden Hour of Favourite TV Themes (1976): Golden Hour GH 845. All covers by One Hundred and One Strings. [1] Arlen/Rose: ‘It’s Only A Paper Moon’. [2] P Faith: ‘The Virginian’ (1962). [3] W Goldenberg: ‘Kojak’ Theme (1974). [4] I Hayes: ‘Shaft’. [5] Q Jones: ‘Ironside’.[6] B Kaper: The ‘F.B.I.’ Theme (1965). [7] A Khachaturian: ‘Onedin Line’ Theme (1974). [8] R Koury: ‘Gunsmoke’ (1955). [9] Evans/Livingston: ‘Bonanza’ (1959). [10] H Mancini: ‘The Pink Panther’ (1963). [11] J Mandell: ‘M.A.S.H.’ (1972). [12] D Rose: ‘High Chaparral’ (1967) and [13] ‘Little House On The Prarie’ (1974). [14] M Stevens: ‘Hawaii 5-0’ (1963). [15] J Strauss (Jr): ‘The Strauss Family’ (‘Acceleration Waltz’) (1973). [16] Adam/Strouse: ‘All In The Family’ (‘Those Were The Days’) (1971). [17] P F Webster: ‘Peyton Place’ (‘Wonderful Season Of Love’) (1964). [18] Boone/Rolfe: ‘Ballad Of Paladin’ (1972).

Goldenberg, William ‘Billy’ (1973a). Kojak (Main Theme). Orchestral arrangement number one. Photocopy of manuscript shelved as Universal City Studios Production no. 39000. Melville (NY): Duchess Music Corporation. Used in the main analysis section of this dissertation.

— (1973b). ‘Kojak’ (Main Theme). Inaccurate cover of Goldenberg (1973a) on GHFTVT.

— (1974). Kojak (Main Theme). Orchestral arr. no. 2. Universal City Production no. 40400. Melville (NY): Duchess Music Corporation. As recorded on TGH78 and as covered on The Cult Files: Silva Screen FILMXCD 184 (1996). Also as inaccurately covered by Ray Martin and his Orchestra on Top TV Themes: Decca TAB 18 (1981).

— (1975). Kojak (Main Title). Piano arrangement of 1974 version. Melville (NY): Duchess Music Corporation.

Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton, 1964). UA. 8Barry, J.

Goldsmith, Jerry (1967). ‘Hour of the Gun’. On GWFTC.

— (1974). Love theme from ‘Chinatown’. Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976).

The Graduate (Mike Nichols, 1967). Polygram Video 084 254 3 (1985). See Simon & Garfunkel.

Graham Central Station (1974). Release Yourself: Warner Brothers BS 2814.

Grainer, Ron (1958). Maigret Theme and Other Themes from the Famous TV Series: London LL 3281 (1960).

— (1962). ‘Dr Who’ (arr. Delia Derbyshire and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop). BBC Space Themes. BBC REH 324 (1978).

— (1967). To Sir With Love (soundtrack only): Fontana 27569/67569 (1967).

Great Western Film Themes Collection (n.d.) UA UAD 60079/80 (double album). [1] E Bernstein: ‘The Magnificent Seven’ (1962). [2] J Moross: ‘The Big Country’ (1958) [3] E Bernstein: ‘The Scalphunters’ (1968). [4] H Friedhofer: ‘One Eyed Jacks’ (1961). [5] D Tiomkin: ‘High Noon’ (1952). [6] N Hefti: ‘Duel at Diablo’ (1966). [7] M David: ‘The Way West’ (1967) [film score otherwise by Andre Previn]. [8] A North: ‘The Wonderful Country’ (1959). [9] J Goldsmith: ‘Hour of the Gun’ (1967). [10] D Tiomkin: ‘The Unforgiven’ (1960). [11] P F Webster/D Tiomkin: ‘The Alamo’ (1960). [12] F De Vol: ‘McClintock’ (1968). [13] E Morricàone: ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’ (Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo) (1966). [14] A Newman/K Darby: ‘How The West Was Won’ (1963). [15] E Morricone: ‘The Big Gundown’ (La resa dei conti) (1968). [16] D Frontiere: ‘Hang 'em High’ (1968). [17] S Manne: ‘Young Billy Young’ (1969). [18] E Morricone: ‘A Fistful of Dollars’ (Per un pugno di dollari) (1964) and [19] ‘For a Few Dollars More’ (Per qualche dollari in più) (1965). [20] A North: ‘The Misfits’ (1961). [21] E Bernstein/D Black/J Newton: ‘True Grit’ (1969). [22] E Morricone: ‘Navajo Joe’ (1967) and [23] ‘A Professional Gun’ (Il mercenario) [24] J Livingston/R Evans/V Young: ‘The Streets of Laredo’ (1949).

Green, Johnny & Heyman, Edward (1931). Out Of Nowhere. New York: T B Harms.

Grieg, Edvard (1868). Piano Concerto in A Minor, first movement – theme for ‘A Song Of Norway’ (1970). Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976).

Gunsmoke (1955-1975). CBS TV. 8Koury.

Guthrie, Arlo (1969). Alice’s Rock and Roll Restaurant: Reprise 0877.

GWFTC. See Great Western Film Themes Collection.

Hadjidakis, Manos (1959). Never on Sunday (Pote th Kuriakh): UA 5070.

Hageman, Richard (1939). ‘Stagecoach’.Polygram Video 083 504 3 (1991).

Hamlisch, Marvin (1974). The Entertainer (S Joplin): MCA 40174. Also on The Sting (soundtrack), MCA 390 and on The Entertainer, MCA 2114.

— (1977). The Spy who Loved Me: UA 3C054-993.

Hancock, Herbie (1966). Blow Up: Hollywood Collection, Vol. 12, CBS 70285.

— (1974). Head Hunters: CBS S 65928. Also as CD Columbia 471239 2 (1992).

Händel, Georg Friedrich (1733). Extracts from Orlando cited by P Young (1947: 135, ff.).

— (1741). The Messiah (ed. E Prout). London: Novello (1902).

— (1749). ‘Arrival of the Queen of Sheba’ from Solomon (organ arr. by E W Maynard). London: Oxford University Press (1930).

Hatch, Tony (1967). ‘The Champions’ (TV theme). On Hit the Road to Themeland (Hatch 1974).

Hatch, Tony [and orchestra] (1974). Hit the Road to Themeland (1974). Pye NSPL 41029. All titles by Hatch except where otherwise stated. [1] Eye Level (J Trombey). [2] The World At War (C Davis). [3] Song From M.A.S.H. (J Mandell). [4] Hadleigh. [5] Best In Football. [6] You’re A Star (Macaulay). [7] Serenade Of Love. [8] The Champions. [9] Midweek (J Scott). [10] Romeo And Juliet (Rota). [11] The Odd Couple (Hefti). [12] Crossroads. [13] Emmerdale Farm. [14] Man Alive. [15] Memories Of Summer. [16] Sportsnight.

Haydn, F Josef (1781). Symphony no. 73 in D Major (La chasse). London: Eulenburg EE 511 (n.d.).

Hayes, Isaac (1971). Theme from ‘Shaft’. Stax S45 (1971). Also as Enterprise 9038 (US) and on Shaft: Enterprise 5002 (US). Extraits de la bande originale du film on Stax DR 2025069. Final chord stabs used in 1970s for Swedish TV sports show Sportnytt.

Hefti, Neal (1965). Batman: RCA Victor 47-8755.

— (1970). ‘The Odd Couple’. TGHV2.

— (1966). ‘Duel at Diablo’. GWFTC.

Hendrix, Jimi (1967). ‘Red House’. Are You Experienced? Track 612-001/Track (Polydor) 2407004 (UK), Reprise RS 6261 (US).

— (1968). Axis Bold As Love: Track 613-003 - Polydor POL 813 572-2.

— (1970). ‘Star Spangled Banner’. Rainbow Bridge: Reprise K 44159.

High Noon (Fred Zinnemann, 1952). Criterion/Republic/UA. See Tiomkin.

Hindemith, Paul (1933). Mathis der Mahler. Mainz: Schott (1934); also as recorded on DGG 2530 246 and as 1962 recording by Berliner Philharmoniker on EMI CDM 7 69242 2 (1988).

— (1937). Sonate II pro Organo. London: Schott.

— (1942). Ludus Tonalis. London: Schott.

Hollywood, Hollywood: om våld (Nils-Petter Sundgren & Paul Bang-Hansen, 1977). Documentary, Sveriges TV1, production no. SR 70-76/2239.

Holy Modal Rounders, The (1969). ‘If You Want To Be A Bird’. Easy Rider: ABC ABCL 5005.

How The West Was Won (film) (John Ford et al., 1963). MGM. 8Newman, A & Darby, K.

How The West Was Won a.k.a. The MacAhans (TV) (1976-77). NBC/MGM. 8Immel.

Hubbard, Freddie (1970). Red Clay: CTI 6001.

Immel, Jerold (1976). How the West was Won (main theme). NBC/MGM TV (1976), recorded off air from SvTV1, autumn 1978.

In the Heat of the Night (Norman Jewison, 1967). UA. 8Quincy Jones.

The Ipcress File (S J Furie, 1964). Rank / Steven / Lowndes (Harry Saltzman). 8Barry (1964).

I Wanna Live! (Robert Wise, 1958). Figaro/UA. See Mandell (1958).

Jarre, Maurice (1963). Lawrence of Arabia. Pye ORL 8241.

— (1965). Dr Zhivago: MGM 6, MGM 242.

Jobim, A-C (1964). The Girl from Ipanema. As performed by A & J Gilberto with S Getz on Verve 10323.

Joel, Billy (1974). The Entertainer (S Joplin): Columbia 10064 (US). Also on Streetlife Serenade: Columbia 33146.

Joplin, Scott (1902). The Entertainer Rag. As performed by Marvin Hamlisch on The Entertainer (MCA 40174, 1974), or on the Billy Joel album Streetlife Serenade (Columbia 33146, 1974). See also Rifkin (1974).

Kaper, Bronislau (1965). The F.B.I. Theme. Covered on GHFTVT.

— (1967). ‘The Way West’. On GWFTC.

Kaun, Bernhard (1936). Extract fr. ‘The Petrified Forest’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

Kenton, Stan (and band) (1971). Stan Kenton and his Orchestra Live at Brigham University. Creative World Inc., Quadrophonic.

Kern, Jerome (1914). They Didn’t Believe Me. New York: T B Harms Co.

— (1936). The Way You Look Tonight. New York: T B Harms Co.

Khachaturian, Aram (1956). Adagio of Spartacus & Phrygia from ballet Spartacus, used as theme for TV series ‘The Onedin Line’. The World of TV Themes, q.v.

The King and I (Sidney J Furie, 1956). Walter Lang/C20 Fox. 8Alfred Newman, Ken Darby, Richard Rodgers.

King, Carole (1974). ‘I Feel The Earthy Move’. Tapestry: Ode 88006 (US) and A&M AMLS 996 (UK); also as single (b/w ‘It’s Too Late’) on Ode 66015 (US).

— (1974). Jazzman: Ode 66101; also as arranged by Gary Anderson in the Woody Herman series, and as recorded on LP King Cobra: Fantasy F 9499 (1976).

King Crimson (1981). Discipline. Warner Brothers 3429.

King Kong (Merien C Cooper & Ernest B Schoedsack, 1933). RKO, off-air Super Channel Dec. 1987. See Steiner, M (1933).

Kodály, Zoltán (1962). Bicinia Hungarica. London: Boosey and Hawkes. 1st publ. 1941.

Kojak (1973-77). TV CBS/Universal. Underscore by John Cacavas; title theme, see Goldenberg. Episode ‘Deliver Us Some Evil’ recorded off-air, SvTV1 (1975-11-01).

Korngold, Erich Wolfgang (1935). ‘Captain Blood’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1938). ‘The Adventures Of Robin Hood’. Fifty Years of Film Music, q.v.

— (1940). The Sea Hawk: RCA Stereo LSC-3330 (1972).

— (1942). ‘King’s Row’. Fifty Years of Film Music, q.v.

Koury, Rex (1955). ‘Gunsmoke’. Covered on GHFTVT. Radio version on TLOT vol.1, q.v.

Lai, Francis (1966). Un homme et une femme: BIEM AZ EP 1035.

— (1970). ‘Love Story’. Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976); also on All Creatures Great and Small; Rampage RAMP 1 (1978).

Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean, 1963). Sam Spiegel/David Lean/Columbia Pictures. See Jarre, M.

Legrand, Michel (1966). Les parapluies de Cherbourg: Philips 77233 (France).

— (1971). ‘Summer of '42’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

Ligeti, György (1961): ‘Atmosphères’. 2001: MGM (1968); MGM/UA Home Video SMV 10002 (1989).

Liszt, Ferenc (1849). ‘Tasso’; Leipizig: Breitkopf & Härtel no. 26540; also as recorded on Liszt - Symphonic Poems; Naxos 8550487 (1991).

Livingston, Jay & Evans, Ray (1959). ‘Bonanza’. TGHV1; also covered on GHFTVT.

Love Story (1970). See Lai, F (1970).

Lulu (1967). To Sir With Love: Epic 5-10187 (US).

Lyngstad, Annifrid (1975). Frida ensam: Polar Pols 165. SR (1975)

Lynyrd Skynyrd (1973-6). ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ (1973), ‘Gimme Three Steps’ (1973), ‘Free Bird’ (1973), ‘Whiskey Rock-a-Roller (1976): The Essential Lynyrd Skynyrd: MCA MCD 11807 (1998).

Macaulay, T (1973). ‘New Faces’ (theme). Hit the Road to Themeland (see Hatch 1974).

Magdeburgarna (1977). Klöverstua (K & T Gärdestad). Off-air from ‘Svensktoppen’, SRP3.

The Magnificent Seven. (John Sturges, 1962). MGM/UA. Video MGM/UA SO 51563 (1993). Soundtrack, see Bernstein, E.

Mahavishnu Orchestra, The (1973). Birds of Fire: CBS 65321.

Mahler, Gustav (1911). Das Lied von der Erde. Vienna: UE (1912); also as recorded on Philips 432 279-2 (1975/1991).

A Man and a Woman. See Lai (1966).

Mancini, Henry (1962). ‘Days of Wine and Roses’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1964). The Pink Panther: UA 3376/6736. Theme also as covered on GHFTVT.

— (1971). ‘Cade’s County’. Covered on GHFTVT.

— (1972). Theme from ‘M*A*S*H’ (‘Suicide Is Painless’). TGH78; also as covered on GHFTVT and Hatch (1974).

Manne, Shelley (1969). ‘Young Billy Young’. On GWFTC.

Marzials, Theo (n.d.). ‘Twickenham Ferry’. Parlour Song Book (ed. M Turner): 58. London: Pan (1972).

McCloud (1971). TVM/NBC’s Mystery Movies series; off-air SRTV (1973). 8David Shire.

McGuinn, Roger (1969). ‘Ballad Of Easy Rider’ and ‘It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)’ (Dylan). Easy Rider: ABC ABCL 5005 (1969)

The Men (Zinnemann, 1950). Columbia. 8Dimitri Tiomkin.

Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Felix (1843). Wedding March from A Midsummer Night’s Dream (arr. for organ by C W Pearce). London: Paxton (n.d.).

Mendoza, David (1926). See Axt and Mendoza (1926).

The Methodist Hymnbook (‘for the use of choirs’) (1933). London: Methodist Publishing House.

Midnight Cowboy (1969). UA 7198 or 6731 (music by John Barry, Harry Nilsson, etc.).

Monteverdi, Claudio (1624). Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda. London: Oxford University Press. Also as recorded on Harmonia Mundi 190986 (1976).

Morgan! A Suitable Case for Treatment (Karel Reisz, 1966). Cinema 5. 8Johnny Dankworth.

Moross, Jerome (1958) ‘The Big Country’. On GWFTC.

Morricone, Ennio (1964). For a Fistful of Dollars/Per un pugno di dollari: Jolly Films/UA (1964), Warner Home Video (1987). Theme also on soundtrack album RCA Victor 1135 (1966), on Morricone – The Legendary Italian Westerns (RCA ND 90526, 1990), on Ennio Morricone - Film Hits (RCA ND 70091, 1988), on Ennio Morricone – For A Few Dollars More / Fistful of Dollars (RCA ND 70391, 1988), and as covered on GWFTC.

— (1965). ‘For A Few Dollars More’/‘Per qualche dollari in più’. On Film Favourites - Ennio Morricone: RCA HY 1007 (1975); on Ennio Morricone - Film Hits: RCA ND 70091 (1988); on For A Few Dollars More/Fistful of Dollars: RCA ND 70391 (1988); on Morricone – The Legendary Italian Westerns: RCA ND 90526 (1990).

— (1966). The Good, the Bad and the Ugly/Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo): Produzioni Europee Associates (1966), Warner Home Video MGM/UA PES 99225 (1987). Soundtrack album on UA UAS 5172 (1967). Theme also on Ennio Morricone Film Music 1966-1987: Virgin CDVD 2516 (1987), on Morricone – The Legendary Italian Westerns: RCA ND 90526 (1990), and as covered on GWFTC.

— (1967a). ‘The Big Gundown’/‘La resa dei conti’. For A Few Dollars More/Fistful of Dollars: RCA ND 70391 (1988). Also as covered by John Zorn et al. on The Big Gundown: Icon/Nonesuch 979 139-1 (France, 1986), and on GWFTC.

— (1967b). ‘A Professional Gun’/‘Il mercenario’: I Western di Ennio Morricone, vol.2: RCA NL 33066 (1978). Also as covered on GWFTC.

— (1967c). ‘Navajo Joe’. Covered on GWFTC.

— (1976). Novecento: Produzione Europee Associate, distr. UA, off-air from SvTV2 (1987). Soundtrack album on RCA TBL 1-1221 (1976).

Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus (1785). Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major K467 (The ‘Elvira Madigan’). London: Eulenburg (1934). Also as recorded on Philips 6527 147 (1982).

— (1786). Le nozze di Figaro K492. Leipzig: Edition Breitkopf (1986) (Klavierauszug von H Levi).

— (1787). ‘Eine kleine Nachtmusik’ (Serenade in G major for 2 Violins, Viola, Violoncello and Bass, K525). London, Mainz, Zürich, New York: Eulenburg (n.d.).

— (1788). Symphony no. 40 in G Minor, K550. London: Eulenburg (1930). Also as recorded on CBS Masterworks: MDK 44649 (1981). First movement also as Lufthansa advert on 25 TV Commercial Classics: ASV Digital QS 6137 (1994).

— (1791). Overture to The Magic Flute, K620. London: B&H (n.d.).

— (1782-91). Overtures to ‘L’impressario’, K486 (1786); ‘Le nozze di Figaro’, K492 (1786); ‘Die Entführung aus dem Serail’, K384 (1782); ‘Die Zauberflöte’, K620 (1791). All on Mozart/Rossini Overtures: Richesse Classique, Muridisc RC 820 (F) (n.d.).

Movie Masters. ABC ABCL 5205 (1976). Includes: Rota: ‘The Godfather’ theme (1972); Berlin/Riddle: The ‘Great Gatsby’ theme – ‘What I’ll Do’ (1972); Hefti/Cahn: ‘The Odd Couple’ (1968); Goldsmith: Love theme from ‘Chinatown’ (1974); C Bolling: ‘Borsalino’ (1970); F Loewe: ‘Wandrin’ Star’ from ‘Paint Your Wagon’; F: Lai: Theme from ‘Love Story’ (1970); Theodorakis: ‘Serpico’ (1973); E Grieg: ‘Song Of Norway’; E: Bernstein: ‘The Ten Commandments’ (1956); J Barry: ‘The Dove’ (1968); Steppenwolf: ‘Born To Be Wild’ from ‘Easy Rider’ (1968); Four Tops: ‘Are You Man Enough?’ from ‘Shaft In Africa’; Rota: ‘The Godfather II’ - ‘The Immigrant’ (1974).

Mulligan, Gerry (1958). Barbara’s Theme. I Wanna Live! UA 4005/5005 and 3122/6122.

Mundy, John (c.1600). Fantasia (‘Faire Weather’, ‘Lightning’, ‘Calme Weather’, ‘A Cleare Day’). Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, I, pp. 23-26. New York: Dover (1963).

Mussorgsky, Modest (1863). Night on a Bare Mountain, arr. by N A Rimsky-Korsakov (first performed 1886). London: Eulenburg EE 6125 (n.d.). Also as recorded [1] on Rostropovitch Conducts: EMI ASD 3421 (1978); [2] on Pictures at an Exhibition: Naxos 8550051 (1987); [3] as advert for Maxell tapes on 25 TV Commercial Classics: ASV Digital QS 6137 (1994).

— (1872). Boris Godunov (ed. I Iordan, M Ippolitov). Moscow: State Music Publishers (1959).

— (1874). Pictures at an Exhibition. [1] Piano version as Tableaux d’une exposition (ed. A Kreutz). Mainz: Edition Schott 525 (n.d.). [2] As orchestrated by Ravel (1929) and recorded by [a] USSR Radio and TV Symphony Orchestra on Melodiya C 10-08975-6 (1977) and [b] by the Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra on Naxos 8550051 (1987).

— (1875-77). Songs and Dances of Death. New York: International Music Company (1951).

— (1879). ‘Darling Savishna’. Romances et chansons. Leipzig: Nouvelle édition M P Balaïeff (1898).

Newman, Alfred & Darby, Ken (1962). ‘How The West Was Won’. On Les plus celèbres musiques de film: MGM 2624 011 (1979); and on Twenty Original Soundtracks, Vol 2: Yesterday Gold YDG 74640 (1989). Also as covered on GWFTC.

New Seekers, The (1971). I’d Like To Teach The World To Sing (In Perfect Harmony): Polydor 2058 184

Night Mail (Herbert Smith, Harry Watt, Basil Wright, 1936). British Lion for GPO Films. 8Britten.

Nilsson, Harry (1969). See Midnight Cowboy.

Norman, Monty (1962). ‘Dr No’ – main titles (the ‘James Bond Theme’). In Dr No: MGM / UA Home Video PES 99210 (1992). On The Best of Bond: UA UAS 29021 (1975) and on Il terzo uomo e altri celebri film: RCA Cinematre NL 43890 (n.d.).

North, Alex (1951). A Streetcar Named Desire. Charles K Feldman / Elia Kazan. Main theme on Fifty Years of Film Music, q.v.

— (1967). Extract from ‘Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?’ on FMAKB; and on Fifty Years of Film Music, q.v.

Offenbach, Jacques (c.1880). ‘La lettre de Périchole’. In Knepler: Musikgeschichte des 19. Jahunderts, II: Berlin (1961), pp. 20-27.

Oldfield, Mike (1973). Tubular Bells: Virgin V 2001.

On The Waterfront (Elia Kazan, 1954). See Bernstein, L.

Parker, John C (1971). ‘Cannon’. TGHLC.

The Parlour Song Book (1972) (ed M R Turner). London: Pan.

Paul and Paula (1962). Hey Paula: Philips 40084 (US), Philips 304012 (UK). Also on Oldies but Goodies, Vol.4: Success 2120 (1988).

Petterson, Siv (1974). Det måste finnas någon värld. SRP3 Svensktoppen (1974-08-04).

Phillips, Walter A (n.d.). ‘A Son Of The Desert Am I’. The Parlour Song Book. London: Pan (1972).

Pickett, Wilson (1967). Stag-O-Lee. Atlantic 2448.

Pink Floyd (1969). ‘Heart Beat, Pig Meat’, ‘Crumbling Land’, ‘Come In No.15, Your Time Is Up’, ‘Brother Mary’, ‘Mickey’s Tune’. Zabriskie Point: MGM (dir. Antonioni1969). Sountrack re-issue Rhino 72462 (1997).

— (1973). The Dark Side of the Moon: Harvest SHVL 804; CD reissue EMI 7243 8 29752 2 9 (1994).

— (1975). Wish You Were Here: Harvest SHVL 814.

Platters, The (1955). Only You: Mercury 70633 (US), Mercury MTR 117 (UK). Also on Oldies but Goodies, Vol.4: Success 2120 (1988).

Porter, Cole (1929). What Is This Thing Called Love? New York: T B Harms.

— (1932). Night And Day. New York: T B Harms.

— (1934). I Get A Kick Out Of You. New York: T B Harms.

— (1936). I’ve Got You Under My Skin. New York: T B Harms.

— (1941). Everything I Love. New York: T B Harms.

Post, Mike (1974). ‘The Rockford Files’. On Post (1982).

— (1977). ‘Richie Brockelman, Private Eye’ a.k.a. ‘School’s Out’ (1977). On Post (1982).

— (1982). Television Theme Songs - Mike Post: Elektra K52372 (1982).

Pote thn Kuriakh/Never on a Sunday (Jules Dassin, 1959). 8Hadjidakis, M.

Prado, Perez ‘Prez’ (1959). Patricia: RCA Victor 47-7245, LP Prez: RCA Victor 1556. Also on Perez ‘Prez’ Prado, King of Mambo: RCA ND 90424 (1989).

The Producers (Mel Brooks, 1978). Columbia/Embassy Pictures/Brooks; off-air SvTV3 (October 16 1988). 8Brooks; underscore John Morris.

Prokofiev, Sergei (1936). Peter and the Wolf. London: B&H (1942). Also as recorded by the Amsterdam Concertgebouw Orchestra on Philips 6599 436 (1974).

— (1938). Alexander Nevsky. Mosfilm, Hendring Video - Russian Classics, restored Moscow 1986. Soundtrack album: Melodiya S 40010. Cue ‘Battle on the Ice’ on FMAKB.

— (1942). Ivan Grozny - Muzyka k kinofilmu, op.116. Melodiya 33C-01321,2,3,4 (c.1983).

Ravel, Maurice (1911). Daphnis et Chloë, 1e série. Paris: Durand.

Reichert, James (n.d.). ‘Heroic Endeavour’. Recorded Music for Film, Radio and TV. B&H SBH 3045

— (1913). Daphnis et Chloë, 2e série. Paris: Durand.

Repulsion (Polanski, 1965). Royal Films International. 8Chico Hamilton.

Respighi, Ottorino (1916). The Fountains of Rome. Milan: Ricordi. Also as recorded on I pini di Roma / Le fontane di Roma: CBS Odyssey MBK 44961 (1973).

— (1924). The Pines of Rome. Milan: Ricordi. Also as recorded on I pini di Roma / Le fontane di Roma: CBS Odyssey MBK 44961 (1973).

— (1927). Prelude from ‘The Birds’, theme for UK TV show ‘Going For A Song’ (1971). The World of TV Themes, q.v.

Richie Brockelman, Private Eye (1977). NBC/Universal. 8Post, M.

Rifkin, Joshua. Piano Rags by Scott Joplin: Nonesuch 73026 (1974).

Righteous Brothers, The (1964). You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling: Philles 124, London HLU 9943. Also on Sixties Beat: Dino Entertainment DINCD 42 (1992), and on Number Ones of the Sixties: Music for Pleasure EMI 077778975120/CD PR 111 (1993).

Ritter, Tex (1952). Do Not Foresake Me O My Darling. See Tiomkin (1952).

The Rockford Files (1974). Universal/Cherokee/Public Arts. 8Post, M.

Rodgers, Richard (1934). Blue Moon. New York: Robbins. Also in Tin Pan Alley (1975: 140).

— (1938). You’ve Cast Your Shadow On The Sea. New York: Chappell.

Rolling Stones, The (1968a). ‘Street Fighting Man’. Beggar’s Banquet: Decca SKL 4955. Also on Hot Rocks 1964-1971: Abkco London 844 475-2 (1996).

— (1968b). ‘Jumping Jack Flash’. Through The Past Darkly: Decca SKL 5019; Get Yer Ya Yas Out: Decca SKL 5065; Gimme Shelter: Decca SKL 5101. Also on Hot Rocks 1964-1971: Abkco London 844 475-2 (1996).

— (1971). ‘Brown Sugar’. Sticky Fingers, Rolling Stones 59100. Also on Hot Rocks 1964-1971: Abkco London 844 475-2 (1996).

Rollins, Sonny (1966). Alfie (soundtrack): Impulse S 9111.

Rose, David (1959). ‘Bonanza’ (NBC TV title theme). TGHV2.

— (1967). ‘The High Chaparral’. TGHLC.

— (1974). ‘Little House On The Prairie’. TGH78

Rosenmann, Leonard (1955). ‘Rebel without a Cause’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

Rossini, Giacchino (1812-1829). Rossini Overtures: RCA Gold Seal AGL 1-5210 (1959/1983).

— (1812). La scala di seta. London: Eulenburg 3799.

— (1813). L’italiana in Algieri. London: Eulenburg 3797.

— (1816). Il barbiere di Seviglia. London: Eulenburg 686.

— (1817). La gazza ladra. London: Eulenburg 686.

— (1829). William Tell. London: Eulenburg 616. Also as theme from ‘The Lone Ranger’ (ABC TV, 1949) on [1] Themes Like Old Times Vol. 1, q.v; [2] TGHV1.

Rota, Nino (1968). ‘Romeo And Juliet’. Covered on Hit the Road to Themeland (see Hatch 1974).

— (1972). ‘The Godfather’, main theme. Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976), and on FMAKB.

— (1974). ‘The Immigrant’ from ‘The Godfather Part II’ on Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976).

— (1978). La dolce vita e altri celebri film di Fellini: Cinematre/RCA NL 33204.

Rózsa, Miklós (1968). ‘The Green Berets’ (extract). Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1968). Extracts from soundtrack of Julius Caesar. Mavell et al. The Technique of Film Music, London: Focal Press (1975: 128-138).

Såsom i en spegel/Through a Glass Darkly. (Bergman, 1961). Svensk Filmindustri. 8J S Bach: Suite no.2 in D minor for solo cello.

Saturday Night Fever (1977). Paramount VHR 4666 (1998). Original soundtrack: RSO RS 2-4001.

Sawtell, Paul (1953). Underscore extract (‘dumb Injuns’) from Paramount film Arrowhead. Off-air SvTV1 (Sept. 1988).

Scarlatti, Domenico (1742-6). 29 Sonatas, ed. T F Dunhill. London: Augener (1917).

Schubert, Franz (1823). ‘Das Wandern’, ‘Wohin?’, ‘Danksagung an den Bach’, ‘Der Jäger’. Die schöne Müllerin, op.25. London, New York, Frankfurt: C F Peters (n.d.). Also as recorded by Julius Patzak on Pilz Acanta 442115-2 (1988).

— (1828). ‘Aufenthalt’, ‘Abschied’, ‘Die Taubenpost’. Schwanengesang. London, New York, Frankfurt: C F Peters (n.d.). Also as recorded by Julius Patzak on Pilz Acanta 442115-2 (1988).

— (1814-1828). ‘Erlkönig’ (1814), ‘Gretschen am Spinnrade’ (1814), ‘An die Musik’ (1816), ‘Ganymed’ (1816). Ausgewälte Lieder. London, New York, Frankfurt: C F Peters (n.d.). Also as recorded by Julius Patzak on Pilz Acanta 442115-2 (1988).

— (1827). ‘Einsamkeit’, ‘Die Post’, ‘Der stürmische Morgen’, ‘Mut!’, ‘Der Leiermann’. Winterreise op.89. London, New York, Frankfurt: C F Peters (n.d.). Also as recorded by Julius Patzak on Pilz Acanta 442115-2 (1988).

Schumann, Robert (1840). ‘Du bist wie eine Blume’. Myrten, op.25. Schumann Lieder, Band I. Leipzig: Edition Peters (n.d.). Also as ‘Thou art a Lovely Flower’: The Home Series of the Great Masters, 2 (ed. E Haywood). London: Keith Prowse (1931).

Scott, J (1972). Midweek (theme tune). Hit the Road to Themeland (see Hatch 1974).

Scott of the Antarctic (Charles Frend, 1948). Ealing/Eagle-Lion. 8Ralph Vaughan Williams.

Séance on a Wet Afternoon (Bryan Forbes, 1964). Rank. 8John Barry.

Selected Songs for Ladies’ Voices. London: George Newnes (c.1920).

The Servant (Losey, 1963). Landau. 8Johnny Dankworth.

The Seven Samurai (Kurasawa, 1965). Toho Studios. 8Fumio Hayasaka.

Shadows, The (1960a). Apache: Columbia DB 4484. Also on The Shadows 20 Golden Greats: EMI CDP 7 46243 2 (1977) and on Shadows in the Sixties: Music For Pleasure CDB 7 92765 2 (1989).

— (1960b). Man of Mystery b/w The Stranger: Columbia DB-4520. Also on The Shadows 20 Golden Greats: EMI CDP 7 46243 2 (1977) and on Shadows in the Sixties: Music For Pleasure (EMI) CDB 7 92765 2 (1989).

— (1961). FBI b/w Midnight: Columbia DB-4580.

Shaft (Gordon Pooles, 1971). MGM. See Hayes, I.

Shankar, Ravi (1968). Chappaqua (soundtrack): Columbia 3230 (1968).

Sibelius, Jean (1892). Kullervo, Choral Symphony, op.7. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel (1962).

— (1893). Intermezzo from the Karelia Suite, op.11: title music for ‘This Week’ (London Symphony Orchestra, 1971). The World of TV Themes: Decca SPA 217 (1972)

— (1898). Symphony no. 1 in E Minor, op.39. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel VEB 3325 (n.d.).

— (1905). ‘The Castle Gate’ from Pelleas & Melisande, suite for small orchestra, op.46 (Berlin: Robert Lienau Verlag): theme for ‘The Sky at Night’. BBC Space Themes: BBC REH 324 (1978).

Silver Convention (1977). Telegram. West German Eurovision entry, April 1977, off-air SRP3.

Simon, Paul & Garfunkel, Art (1967). The Graduate. Avco Embassy. Polygram Video 084 254 3 (1985). Soundtrack on CBS S 70042.

— (1970). Bridge Over Troubled Water: CBS 63699 (1970)

Sinding, Christian (n.d.). Frühlingsrauschen, op.32, no.3. Frankfurt-am-Main: Edition Peters no. 8486.

Det sjunde inseglet/The Seventh Seal (Bergman, 1956). Svensk Filmindustri. 8Erik Nordgren; medieval music arr. Sixten Ehrling.

Soul Clan (1968). Soul Meeting. Atlantic 2530 (Soul Clan = Solomon Burke, Arthur Conley, Don Covay, Ben E King, Joe Tex).

Sportnytt (1974). Swedish TV sports show: final stabs from Theme from ‘Shaft’ (see Hayes 1971).

Sousa, Jean-Philippe (n.d.). ‘Liberty Bell’, title theme for ‘Monty Python’s Flying Circus’ (1969-1974). On [1] The World of TV Themes: Decca SPA 217 (1972), [2] Top TV Themes: Decca TAB 18 (1981), [3] TGHV2.

Stagecoach (John Ford, 1939). Polygram Video 083 504 3 (1991). 8Hageman.

Steeleye Span (1970). ‘The Blacksmith’, ‘The Fisherman’s Wife’, ‘Lowlands of Holland’. Hark! the Village Wait: Crest 22.

— (1971). ‘Cold, Haily, Windy Night’ and ‘The Female Drummer’. Please to See the King: Crest 8.

— (1974). ‘Seven Hundred Elves’ and ‘Thomas The Rhymer’. Now We are Six: Chrysalis CHR 1053.

Steiner, Max (1933). King Kong. RKO; off-air Super Channel (1987). Also on Polygram Video (1992).

— (1939). Gone with the Wind. Selznick International Pictures. Also on MGM/UA Home Video PES 50284 (1989). Soundtrack album: RCA GL 43440 (1974).

— (1942). ‘They Died With Their Boots On’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1942). Casablanca. Remastered on MGM/UA Home Video PES 99217 (1992). Audio extracts on Fifty Years of Film, q.v. Soundtrack album: Casablanca and other Classic Film Scores for Humphrey Bogart: RCA ARL1-0422 (1974).

— (1942). Now Voyager - The Classic Film Scores of Max Steiner. RCA Red Seal SER 5695 (1973).

— (1944). ‘Arsenic and Old Lace’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1945). ‘Mildred Pierce’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1946). ‘The Big Sleep’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1948). ‘The Treasure of the Sierra Madre’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1949). ‘White Heat’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1950). ‘Glass Menagerie’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

Steppenwolf (1969). ‘The Pusher’ and ‘Born To Be Wild’. Easy Rider: ABC ABCL 5005. ‘Born To Be Wild’ also on Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976).

Stevens, Mort (1963). ‘Hawaii 5-0’ (TV theme). On [1] This is Cult Fiction: Virgin VTCD 59 PM 527 (1995); [2] The Cult Files: Silva Screen FILMXCD 184 (1996); [3] TGHV1. Covered [1] by 101 Strings on GHFTVT; [2] by Ray Martin and his Orchestra on Top TV Themes; Decca TAB 18 (1981); [3] by The Ventures on The Ventures - Apache: Success/Pickwick P 510/16135 (1993).

Sting (1993). Ten Summoner’s Tales. A&M 70 (1993).

Stivell, Alan (1974). Chemins de terre: Fontana 9279 038.

Strauss (Jr.), Johann (1867). An der schönen blauen Donau (‘Blue Danube’), op.314 (ed. V Keldorfer). London: Eulenburg (1930). Also as recorded by the Philadelphia Orchestra under Ormandy on Strauss Waltzes: CBS Odyssey MBK 44892 (1979).

— (n.d.). ‘Acceleration Waltz’ – TV theme for ‘The Strauss Family’ (1973). On GHFTVT.

Strauss, Richard (1889). Don Juan (Tondichtung), op.20. Vienna: Universal. Also as recorded by Concertgebouw Orchestra on Philips 420 521-2 (1973/1974)

— (1896). Also sprach Zarathustra, op.30. London: Eulenburg EE 3506 (1932). Also [1] as recorded by Concertgebouw Orchestra on Philips 420 521-2 (1973/1974); [2] as introduction to ‘2001: A Space Oddyssey’ on BBC Space Themes: BBC REH 324 (1978); as on The Cult Files: Silva Screen FILMXCD 184 (1996).

— (1898). Ein Heldenleben, op.40. London: Eulenburg 98. Also as performed by Herbert Blomstedt and Sveriges Radios Symfoniorkester: off-air SRP2 (1978-12-07).

— (1910). Orchesterstudien für Horn aus den symphonischen Werken (ed. E Wipperich). Vienna: UE.

— (1915). Eine Alpensymphonie. Leipzig: Verlag F E C Leuckart.

— (1943). Orchestral Studies from Operas and Symphonic Poems: 214 passage for the Horn in F (ed. E Wipperich). London & New York: B&H No. 8979, 42 pp.

Stravinsky, Igor (1911). Pétrouchka. London: B&H.

— (1913). The Rite of Spring. London: B&H (1947).

— (1915). L’oiseau de feu: symphonic suite (1945) based on Diaghilev ballet version (1911). New York: Leeds Music (1947).

— (1927). Oedipus Rex (vocal score). New York: B&H 16692 (1950).

— (1930). Symphonie de Psaumes. London: B&H (1948).

Strouse, Charles. ‘Those Were The Days’, theme for ‘All In The Family’ (1971): on TGH78. Also covered on GHFTVT.

— (1967). ‘Bonnie And Clyde’. Fifty Years of Film: Warner 3XX 2737 (1973)

Tagg, Philip (1979). Samtal (signature theme). SRP1.

Tchaikovsky, Pyotr Ilyich (1878). Piano Concerto no.1 in B$ Minor, op.23. Tchaikovsky/Rachmaninoff Klavierkonzert: Fontana S 700 185 (BRD) (c.1969). Also on Big Concerto Movie Themes: Music For Pleasure MFP 4261 (1972); and as signature to ‘The Mercury Theatre On The Air’ on TLOT vol 2: Viva V-36020.

Television’s Greatest Hits from the 70s and 80s. TeeVee Toons TVT 1300 CD (1990).

Television’s Greatest Hits In Living Color. TVT Records 0022742 CIN (1996).

Television’s Greatest Hits Volume 1: from the 50s and 60s. TVT Records TVT 1100 CD (1986).

Television’s Greatest Hits Vol 2. Silva Screen FILMCD 034 (1986).

TGH78. See Television’s Greatest Hits from the 70s and 80s.

TGHLC. See Television’s Greatest Hits In Living Color.

TGHV1. See Television’s Greatest Hits, Volume 1.

TGHV2. See Television’s Greatest Hits, Volume 2.

Themes Like Old Times, Vol 1 (n.d.). Viva V-36018. Signature extracts from: Singin’ Sam; The Mysterious Traveller; The Jimmy Durante Show; The Falcon; X Minus One; The House Of Mystery; Fibber McGee And Molly; Valiant Lady; Amons 'n' Andy (Rinso); Suspense; Town Hall Tonight; Manhattan Serenade; Where The Blue Of The Night (Bing Crosby – ‘Philco Radio Time’); The Tom Mix Ralston Straight Shooters; Life Can Be Beautiful; Lux Radio Theatre; Boston Blackie; The Answer Man; Uncle Don; The Guiding Light; Can You Top This?; Tom Corbett, Space Cadet; Vic & Sade; Mark Trail (Guardian Of The Forests); Major Bowes’ Original Amateur Hour; Here’s Morgan; The Aldrich Family; True Detective Mysteries; Stella Dallas; Myrt And Marge; The Charlie McCarthy Show; Grand Central Station; The Whistler; Against The Storm; The Eddie Cantor Show; Pabst blue beer; Chandu The Magician; Lights Out; Melody Ranch (Gene Autry); The Shadow; Backstage Wife; Mr District Attorney; Tarzan; One Man’s Family; Dr Kildare; Nick Carter, Master Detective; Hop Harrigan (America’s Ace of Airways); It Pays To Be Ignorant; Pepper Young’s Family; I Love A Mystery; The Marlin Hurt & Beulah Show; The Pepsodent Show; The Bob Hope Show (Pepsodent); The Bill Stern Sports Newsreel (Colgate); The Phil Harris - Alice Faye Show; Gangbusters; Philip Morris Playhouse; Funiculi funicula - Lorenzo Jones; Superman (Kellogg’s Pep); The Lone Ranger (Rossini); Captain Midnight (Ovaltine); National Barn Dance; Gunsmoke (Koury); The Witch’s Tale; Double Or Nothing; The Green Hornet (Rimsky-Korsakov); Benny Goodman’s Swing School (Benny Goodman, ‘The New Music of Youth’, Camel); A Helping Hand; Richard Diamond, Private Eye; Ma Perkins (Oxydol - mother of airwaves); Michael Shayne, Private Detective; The Joe Penner Show; The Ed Wynn Show (Texaco); Bulldog Drummond; Over There (G Cohan, F Sinatra; Lucky Strike’s “Your Hit Parade”; Red Ryder; Big Sister (R..I..N..S..O); Maxwell House Coffee Time; The Taystee Breadwinner; Right To Happiness; The Lucky Strike Program; Terry And The Pirates In the Orient; Eversharp blades; Jack Armstrong, The All-American Boy (Wheaties); The Coke Club; Young Dr Malone; Duffy’s Tavern (Bristol Mayer); The F.B.I. in Peace And War; The Lum ‘n’ Abner Show; Cream Of Wheat; The Hardy Family; The Firstnighter Program.

Themes Like Old Times, vol 2 (n.d.). Viva V-36020. Signature extracts from: Inner Sanctum Mysteries; The Lifebuoy Program (Al Jolson); The Adventures of Sam Spade, Detective; Dr I.Q., the Mental Banker; The Vaughn De Leath Show; The Thin Man; The Fat Man; The Canary Pet Show; The March Of Time; Just Plain Bill; Buck Rogers in the 25th Century; Escape; The Goldbergs; Young Widder Brown; Brave Tomorrow; John’s Other Wife; Manhattan Merry-Go-Round; Dick Tracy; The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet; Life With Luigi; The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes; The Shadow Of Fu Manchu; Believe It Or Not; Whispering Jack Smith; Hoofbeats, Starring Buck Jones (Grape Nuts); The Romance Of Helen Trent; Bold Venture (with Bogart & Bacall); Counterspy; Chamber Music Society of Lower Basin Street; My Friend Irma; The Adventures Of The Saint; The Spike Jones Show (Coca Cola); The Mercury Theatre On The Air (Tchaikovsky’s Piano concerto in B$ minor); This Life Is Mine; Bobby Benson And the B-Bar-B Riders; Hal Kemp On The Air For Griffin; Tennessee Jed; Campana Serenade (Dick Powell); The Mollé Mystery Theatre; Coast To Coast On A Bus; This Is Nora Drake; The Raleigh & Kool Cigarette Program (Tommy Dorsey); Sergeant Preston Of The Yukon and his wonder dog King; The Jergen’s Journal (Walter Winchell); The Strange Romance Of Evelyn Winters; Jimmy Fiddler In Hollywood; Chick Carter, Boy Detective; Front Page Farrell; Gabriel Heatter’s News Of The World; The Adventures Of Archie Andrews; Kaltenborn Edits The News; The Hermit’s Cave; David Harum; The Buster Brown Gang; Songs By Sinatra; Stagedoor Canteen; The Norge Kitchen Committee; The Magic Detective; Mandrake The Magician; Official Detective; Blondie; Lassie; Wild Bill Elliott; Fitch Bandwagon; Information Please; Adventures of Jungle Jim; The Air Adventures of Jimmy Allen; Linda’s First Love; The Carters Of Elm Street (‘Tears For Souvenirs’); The Second Mrs Burton; The Brighter Day (Händel’s ‘Largo’); Dr Christian (The Vaseline Program); The Adventures Of Frank Merriwell; The Armour Star Jester; The Black Hood; The Black Castle; Ted Lewis, High-Hatted Tragedian Of Song; The Woody Herman Show; Scatergood Baines; Kay Fairchild, Stepmother; Crime Does Not Pay; The Adventures Of Philip Marlowe; Murder At Midnight; The Abbott & Costello Show; When A Girl Marries; The Road For Life; The Great Gildersleeve; The Red Skelton Program; Troman Harper, Rumor Detective; Straight Arrow.

Theodorakis, Mikis (1964). Zorba the Greek: Fontana 6499 689 (n.d.).

— (1968). Z - He Lives: Reggane/ONCIC (Costa Gavras, 1968). Arrow Video 007 (n.d.). Original soundtrack on Columbia 3370. Main theme to gelasto paidi also on FMAKB.

— (1973). ‘Serpico’ (theme). Movie Masters: ABC ABCL 5205 (1976).

This Sporting Life (Lindsay Anderson, 1963). Continental. 8Roberto Gerhard.

Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines (K Annakin, 1964). C20 Fox. 8Ron Goodwin.

Tiomkin, Dimitri (1952). Do Not Foresake Me O My Darling (Theme from High Noon). Sung by Tex Ritter on Capitol 2120 (US). Also on The Western World of Dimitri Tiomkin: Unicorn-Kanchana Digital DKP 9002 (1980)

— (1954a). ‘The High and the Mighty’ (main theme). Fifty Years of Film Music, q.v. Also as covered by The Shadows on Dance with the Shadows: Columbia SCX 3511 (Italy c.1964).

— (1954b). Murder scene from ‘Dial M for Murder’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1954c). Title music for ‘Land of the Pharaohs’. Fifty Years of Film Music, q.v.

— (1956). Extract from ‘Giant’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1958). Extract from ‘The Old Man and the Sea’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1960). Theme from ‘The Unforgiven’. Covered on GWFTC.

TLOT. See Themes Like Old Times.

Tom Jones (Tony Richardson, 1963). 8See Addison.

Tommy Elfs (1974). Det finns en stad långt bort i fjärran. Off-air from Svensktoppen, SRP3.

Turner, Ike & Tina (1966). River Deep Mountain High (Greenwich/Barry/Spector): London HLU 100466. Also as Philles 131 (US) and on LP HAU 8298 (UK).

Turner, Michael R (ed., 1972). The Parlour Song Book. London: Pan.

Twitty, Conway (1958). It’s Only Make Believe: MGM 12677.

2001. (Kubrick, 1968). MGM. MGM/UA Home Video SMV 10002 (1989). Original soundtrack MGM S 13. 8Ligeti (1961), 8R Strauss (1895); 8J Strauss (Jr) (1867).

Tyner, McCoy (1964). Today and Tomorrow: Impulse S A-63.

Tystnaden/The Silence (Bergman, 1963). Svensk Filmindustri. 8J S Bach’s Goldberg Variations.

Ulf & Karin (1974). Med rötter i medeltiden. Sonet SLP-2049.

— (1976). Folk och Rackare. YTF 50240.

— (1978). See Folk och rackare.

Vanilla Fudge (1968a). The Beat Goes On: Atco SD 33 237 (US).

— (1968b). You Just Keep Me Hangin’ On: Atco 6590 (US). Also on Vanilla Fudge: Atco 224 (US), Atlantic SD 33224 (UK).

Vargtimmen/Hour of the Wolf (Bergman, 1968). Svensk Filmindustri. 8Lars-Johan Werle.

Vaughan Williams, Ralph (1925). The Lark Ascending. London: Oxford University Press.

Ventures, The (1960). Walk Don’t Run. Dolton 25 (US). Also on The Ventures - Apache: Success/Pickwick P 510/16135CD (1993).

Vikingarna (1974). För 70 år sen. Off-air from Svensktoppen, SRP3.

Vivaldi, Antonio (1725). ‘Autumn’ from ‘The Four Seasons’ op.8 no.3 (RV293), theme for ‘Casanova’ (Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra, Karl Münchinger) (1958). The World of TV Themes, q.v.

Vol, Frank De (1962). Extract from ‘Whatever Happened To Baby Jane’: Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1963). ‘McClintock’ (main title and ‘Catherine’ theme). Covered on GWFTC.

Wagner, Richard (1856a). Die Walküre. Mainz: Schott 27002a (n.d.). Also as recorded by Pierre Boulez and the Orchester der Bayreuther Festspiele on Philips 6769 071 (1981).

— (1856b). Walkürenritt/Ride of the Valkyries/La chevauchée des Walkyries/Cavalcata delle Walkirie. Paris: Hegel 31546 (n.d.). Also [1] as recorded by Stokowski and the London Symphony Orchestra on The Ride of the Valkyries: Decca Weekend Classics 421 020-2 (1966/1988); [2] as used in ‘Apocalypse Now’ (1979) on FMAKB; [3] as ‘Rivolta nell’harem’ in 8½ (Fellini, 1962): Cinematre/RCA (Italia) NL 33210 (n.d.); [4] in advert for Peugeot 306 on ITV and Channel 4 (Spring 1994).

— (1862). Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. Vollständige Klavier-Auszug (ed. Karl Klindworth). Vienna/Leipzig: UEUE (n.d.).

— (1871a). Siegfried. Leipzig: Edition Peters – Der Ring des Nibelungen: Bühnenfestspiel in einem Vorabend und drei Tagen. Teil 3 - Zweiter Tag (Klavierauszug von Felix Mottl).

— (1871b). Siegfried Idyl. London: B&H (n.d.).

Walton, William (1952). Belshazzar’s Feast. London: Oxford University Press.

Warner Brothers (1973). See Fifty Years of Film and Fifty Years of Film Music: Warner 3XX 2736-7.

Waxman, Franz (1945). Extract from ‘God is my Co-Pilot’. Fifty Years of Film, q.v.

— (1957). ‘Sayonara’ (titles). Fifty Years of Film Music: Warner 3XX 2736 (1973)

— (1959). ‘The Nun’s Story’. Fifty Years of Film Music, q.v.

Western, J; Boone, R; Rolfe, S (1962). The Ballad of Palladin. As recorded by Duane Eddy on RCA 8047 / RCA 1300. Also as covered on GHFTVT.

Whitcomb, Ian (ed.) (1975). Tin Pan Alley - A Pictorial History (1919-1939). New York: Paddington Press; London: Wildwood House.

Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf (Mike Nichols, 1966). Warner Brothers. 8North, A.

Wilbye, John (1609). Sweet Honey-Sucking Bees. London: Stainer and Bell (1921). Also as recorded by the Purcell Consort of Voices on Turnabout 34202 S (1967).

Wings (1974). Live And Let Die (McCartney): Apple 1863. Also on Live and Let Die: UA 045.

Wipperich, Emil (ed.) (1910). Orchesterstudien für Horn aus den symphonischen Werken von Richard Strauss. Vienna: UE.

— (1943). Orchestral Studies from Operas and Symphonic Poems by Richard Strauss. London & New York: B&H 8979.

The World of TV Themes (1972). Decca SPA 217 (1972). Includes: Khachaturian: The Onedin Line – Adagio of Spartacus & Phrygia from ‘Spartacus’ (1956); Vaughan-Williams: A Family At War – first movement from sixth symphony (1950, rec. 1971); Blue Sky Boys: Magpie (1971); Respigi: Going For A Song – prelude from ‘The Birds’ (1924, rec. 1971); Sibelius: The Sky At Night – ‘At The Castle Gate’ from ‘Pelleas & Melisande (1905, rec. 1971); Les Sans Nom: Personal Cinema – ‘Corazon’ (1971); Prokofiev: The Flaxton Boys – finale from Symphony no. 1 (rec. 1960); Coates: The Forsyte Saga – ‘Elizabeth Tudor’ from The Three Elizabeths Suite; Webster: Peyton Place; Sibelius: This Week – Intermezzo from the Karelia Suite, op.11 (1893, rec. 1971); Vivaldi: Casanova – ‘Autumn’ from ‘The Four Seasons’, op.8 no.3, RV293 (1725, rec. 1958); Sousa: Monty Python’s Flying Circus – ‘Liberty Bell’.

Z (Costa Gavras, 1968). France/Algeria/Reggane/ONCIC. Arrow Video 007 (n.d.). 8Theodorakis, M.

Zabriskie Point (Antonioni, 1969). MGM/Trianon. Sountrack re-issue Rhino 72462 (1997). ([1]-[5] by Pink Floyd, q.v.) [1] Heart Beat, Pig Meat; [2] Crumbling Land; [3] Come In No.15, Your Time Is Up; [4] Brother Mary; [5] Mickey’s Tune; [6] Grateful Dead: Dark Star; [7] Patti Page: Tennessee Waltz; [8] The Youngbloods: Sugar Babe; [9] Jerry Garcia: Love Scene; [10] R Holcomb: I Wish I Were A Single Girl Again; [11] John Fahey: Dance Of Death.

Abbreviations and

Special Terms

§ chapter or heading number, e.g. §4.2.1 = chapter 4, section 2, subsection 1.

8 music by (in LMR).

ABF Arbetarnas bildningsförbund (Swedish Workers’ Education Association).

AO analysis object, i.e. the piece of music under analysis.

arr. arranged by, arranger, arrangement.

b bar number, e.g. b4 = bar number four.

B&H Boosey & Hawkes.

BRD Bundesrepublik Deutschland, former West Germany.

bs bass.

bsn bassoon.

bt beat number (in a bar).

b/w backed with. b&w black and white.

c. approximately, e.g. c1970 = around 1970.

C20 Fox Twentieth Century Fox.

cbs contrabasso, i.e. double bass.

Chron. Chronicles (Old Testament).

ccr contact copy reproduction (of stills from Kojak titles).

cor. corno, i.e. horn; cor. a 4: four French horns playing in unison.

dbs double bass.

DDR Deutsche Demokratische Republik, former East Germany.

dept. department.

Deut. Deutoronomy (Bible).

dr. drums, drumkit.

elbs. electric bass.

elgt. electric guitar.

Ex. book of Exodus (Bible).

ex. example number (exx. = examples).

extrageneric adj. outside or not belonging to the discourse of the symbolic system under discussion.

extramusical adj. extrageneric (q.v.) in relation to music; cf. paramusical.

extraopus adj. outside or not belonging to the piece of music under discussion.

fl. flute(s)see LMR.

FM final motif or final musemesee LMR.

FMAKB Filmmusik (Musik-Aktuell Klangbeispiele), see LMR.

FT final transcript of the Kojak theme.

GHFTVT Golden Hour of Favourite TV Themes, see LMR.

GMH Musikhögskolan i Göteborg (College of Music).

GMV Musikvetenskapliga institutionen, Göteborgs universitet (Dept. of Musicology).

gt. guitar (acoustic).

GWFTC Great Western Film Themes Collection, see LMR.

Hebr. Epistle of St. Paul to the Hebrews (Bible).

HS Hypothetical Substitution.

hypothetical substitution: commutation of one musical element or parameter of expression for another.

hz. herz.

IMC Item of Musical Code

IOCM InterObjective Comparison Material.

interobjective comparison material: extracts/motifs/soundbytes from pieces of music other than the analysis object which bear sonic resemblance to part or parts of the analysis object.

intramusical: intrinsic to a particular musical discourse.

intraopus adj. within a piece of music.

IRASM = The International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music.

Is. book of Isaiah (Bible).

KT The Kojak theme.

KTFC Kojak theme, final transcript.

LMR List of Musical References, p. 374, ff.

m museme, e.g. m2b2 = museme 2b, variant 2, see fig. 8, p. 148.

Matt. Gospel according to St. Matthew.

MoR middle-of-the-road.

museme minimal unit of musical meaning, see §4.1.

n.d. year of publication/composition/first performance, etc. not known.

ob. oboe.

OMUS Organisationskommittén för Högre Musikutbildning i Sverige (Swedish state committe for the reform of music in higher education).

OOFS Original orchestral full score of the Kojak theme.

paramusical adj. alongside the music, i.e. semiotically related to a particular musical discourse without being structurally intrinsic to that discourse.

PMFC paramusical field of connotation.

prod. produced by, producer, production.

Ps. book of Psalms (Bible).

publ. publication,. published (1publ. = first published by)

quartal (of dyads, triads, tetrads, etc.) based on superimposed fourths, cf. tertial.

rec. recording, recorded by.

repr. reprint(ed), reproduction.

Rev. Revelation of St. John (Bible).

Sam. book of Samuel (Bible).

SÄMUS Särskild Ämnesutbildning i Musik, special teacher training programme in music at GMH.

sax. saxophone.

SOU Statens offentliga utredningar (Swedish government white papers).

SvTV1/2 Sveriges Television ( Swedish TV, channel 1 or 2).

SRP1/2/3 Sveriges Radio, Program 1/2/3 (Swedish Radio, channel 1, 2 or 3).

TGH78 Television’s Greatest Hits from the 70s and 80s, see LMR.

sync synchronise(d), synchronisation.

tb. tone beat.

tertial (of dyads, triads, tetrads, etc.) based on superimposed thirds, cf. quartal.

TGHLC Television’s Greatest Hits In Living Color, see LMR.

TGHV1 Television’s Greatest Hits, Volume 1, see LMR.

TGHV2 Television’s Greatest Hits, Volume 2, see LMR.

timp. timpani.

TLOT Themes Like Old Times, see LMR.

trb. trombone(s).

trp. trumpet(s).

UA United Artists.

UE Universal Edition.

vla. viola(s).

vlc. (violon)cello/celli

vln. violin(s).

vol. volume.

VS visual sequence in the Kojak titles, e.g. VS1 = visual sequence no.1.

ww. woodwind.

Other appendices

Abbreviation of dates

Dates are written according to European standards, either as yyyy-mm-dd, or sometimes, if in the twentieth century, simply as yymmdd. Thus, the 22nd of February 1977 may appear as either 1977-02-22 or as 770222. North Americans should observe that both 780311 and 1978-03-11 both designate March 11 1978, not November 3 1978!

Abbreviation of

pitch references

Absolute pitch references are arranged in octaves (see diagram ®), each spanning upwards from an a$ to a g# (e.g. a$4 = g#3). The piano’s lowest note a (27.5 Hz) initiates ‘octave zero’, the next a above that (55 Hz) ‘octave one’, and so on until reaching ‘octave 7’ where a sounds at 3520 Hz. For example, ‘a4’ refers to standard concert pitch a at 440 Hz., a major sixth above middle c.

A note on Bartók’s use of

quartal harmony

Bartók often surrounds his tonal centre with quartal sonorities positioned a minor third above and a minor third below (at a tritone’s distance from each other), thereafter at a tritone above and below the tonal centre (at an octave’s distance from each other — see Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta, Bulgarian dance no. 6 from Microcosmos VI, the Violin Concerto, etc. For further information and analysis, see Lendvai (1971: 35-89). The example of Bartókian harmony presented below, from the Second Piano Concerto’s second movement, shows bitonal ‘thirdless’ shifts to the minor third above or below the tonal centre at several points. Ignoring the dominantal and subdominantal acoustic extremities of the first chord (its f and e), we find the following simplified chord progression at the points in the music marked with Greek letters.

As can be seen from the example above, most harmonic shifts in this Bartók extract go from a 1-2-5 or 1-4-5 chord to a 1-2-5 or 1-4-5 chord situated a minor third away. If, as with this example, the piece is in C (neither major nor minor), it will be possible to hear different sounding quartal chords only on E$, F#/G$ and A because the constituent notes of quartal chords on C (e.g. 1-[2]-4-5-[$7]) are also contained in the same sort of chords based on F, G (sometimes also D and B$). This gives us a string of three possible ‘modulation destinations’ from C, or a set of four basic quartal sonorities for every note of the twelve-tone scale. However, it is possible to modulate to the other two strings of chords — [1] C#, E, G, B$ and [2] D F A$/G#, B8) by letting the fourth or fifth in a 1-2-5 or 1-4-5 chord become the centre of the next chord. Thus we may modulate from C1-4-5 to A$1-4-5 by treating C1-4-5 and F1-2-5 as the same basic sonority. As can be seen in the harmonic schema below, there are several points of modulation, but the main type of harmonic change is from quartal chord up a minor third to next quartal chord, as in the Kojak theme.

The harmonic changes of the Bartók example are:

C ® E$ ® C ® E$ ® C ® G$=C# ® E=B ® D ® F ® B=F# ®

C ® E$=B$ ® B$=F ® A$=E$ ® G$ [=D$ ® F$ ® D$ =G$] ® C

The rise of a minor third in a miner key (e.g. Cm®E$m) seems to be a harmonic rarity in European art music, though such changes may be found in Vaughan Williams’ Five English Folk Songs, Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis, etc., whereas the rise from tonic minor with initial tièrce de Picardie to the major triad of the flat mediant is extremely common not only in Elizabethan music (e.g. Dowland’s The King of Denmark’s Galiard, Farnaby’s Farnabye’s Dreame, Weelkes’ Hark All ye Lovely Saints Above, etc., but also in rock music (e.g. Booker T & The MGs’ Green Onions, Grateful Dead’s One More Saturday Night, Alice Cooper’s Under My Wheels, etc.).

[For a shorter and more systematic run-down of this kind of harmonic idiom, see ‘Harmony’ in Encyclopedia of Popular Music of the World (Mansell, forthcoming).]

 

Biblical substantiation of

symbolic parallels drawn in Chapter 8

[This appendix consists mainly of footnotes 826-840 in the original 1979 edition and relates to §8.4.]

 

1. Seeing God/Kojak. bl°pomen går êrti di'§sÒptrou §n afinigmati, Rev. 22:4. Matt. 5:8 – makãrioi ofl kayaro‹ tª kard¤a ˜ti aÈto¤ tÚn yeÚn ˆcontai. See also Ps.27:8; Is.45:19; Deut:4.29; Ps.102:3.

2. Power of God/Kojak moving in the heavens. See also Is.1:2, Psalms 3:5, 14:2, 33:13-14, 80:15, 102:19, 138:6, 130:1. Note also the following passages: ‘And there shall be signs in the sun and in the moon and in the starts… and they shall see the son of man coming in a cloud in great glory to judge’… Behold, he cometh with the clouds and every eye shall see him’ — ka‹ þfyhsan aÈto›w gl«ssai …se‹ purow, ka‹ ¢kaston aÈt«n, ka‹ ¢plÆsyan pãntew pneÊmatow èg¤ou (Acts 2:3-4); ka‹ ¶sontai shme›a §n ðli“ ka‹ selÆn½ ka‹ êstroiw... ka‹ tÒte ˆcontai tÒn uflon toË ényrÝpou §rxÒmenon §n nef°l½ metå dunãmevw ka‹ dÒjhw poll×w (Luke 21:25-27). ÖIdoÁ ¶rxetai metå t«n nefel«n ka‹ ˆcetai aÈtÚn pçw ÙfyalmÚw (Rev. 1:7).

3. Power of God/Kojak to move the earth. ‘He looketh on the earth and it trembleth’ (Ps.104:32); ‘He sendeth forth his commandment upon earth: his word runneth very swiftly’ (Ps.147:15). ‘Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hath spoken’ (Is.1:2); ‘And Elijah took his mantle and wrapped it together and smote the waters, and they were divided hither and thither, so they went over on dry ground’ (2 Kings 2:9). See also Ex.14:21, Is.53-12, 40:3, Matth.3:3. See also Psalms 8:1; 19:1; 36:6; 83:19; 89:6-9; 92:1-9; 97:5; 99:2; 103: 11-12,19.104: 1-2; 108:6; 148:1,13; Is.31:5; Is.40:12 ff; Joel 2:29-30; Acts 2:3-4. For religious fire symbolism in particular, see notions of purgatory referred to in footnote 524, p.272. Most citations found using Encyclopaedia Biblica (1903).

4. God/Kojak as rising power of fire. One possible interpretation of the skyscraper sequence is that the very weight of Kojak’s name causes the skyscrapers to topple towards the camera. This notion corresponds well with passages like ‘The hills melted like wax at the presence of the Lord (Ps.97:5); ‘The mountains skipped like rams and the hills like little lambs’ (Ps.114:4); ‘Tremble, thou earth, at the presence of the Lord’ (Ps.114:7). Such passages also bear clear resemblance to parts of disaster movies like The Towering Inferno and Earthquake. For even more biblical fire as power and glory, see the ascension (Acts 1:9), Elijah’s rendezvous with chariots of fire (2 Kings 2:11); the Lord on Mt. Sinai (Ex.3:2, 24:17), etc., as in ‘For the Lord thy God is a consuming fire, even a jealous God (Deut.4:24), and in Deut.9:3; Hebr.19:29; Sam.22:9. See Is.40:12, ff. for omnipresence of the Holy Spirit.

5. God/Kojak as a rock. References to God as a rock are also numerous, e.g. Psalms 2:6; 18:12; 28:1; 46:8; 31:4; 62:3,4; 46:8; 91:2; 94:22; 144:1-2. See also Is.26:4; 2 Sam.7:13; 1 Chron.17:12, 22:10.

6. Power and mystery of God’s/Kojak’s name. The mysticism of signs, signatures, names, words and their relation to the universe is also part of biblical symbolism, for example ‘In the beginning was the word’ (John 1:1 – §n t¼ érxª ²n € lÒgow). Note also the praising not of the Lord as such but the magnification of his ‘name’ and its connection with creation, for example ‘For ever, Lord, thy word is settled in heaven’ (Ps.119:89) and ‘By the word of the Lord were the heavens made; and all the host of them by the breath of his mouth’ (Ps.119:89); not to mention the famous ‘writing on the wall’ (Daniel 5:25-31).

7. God/Kojak as problem solver. A suitable biblical parallel to the labyrinth/puzzle sweep-in pattern might be (addressed to Kojak/God) ‘Pull me out of the net that they have laid privily for me’ (Ps.31:4).

8. God/Kojak as omnipotent. Important parallels to Kojak’s omnipotence — and to his forename, Theocrates — are ‘ÖEgý efimi tÚ êlfa ka‹ to vmega, l°gei KÊriow € YeÒw, € Ãn € ²n € §rxÒmenow, € Pankrãtvr’ (Rev.1:8).

 

INDEX

Important headwords are shown in this print, names of music examples in this print, and names artists or composers whose works are cited as music examples in this print.

A

A section (Kojak theme) 222-228

A&M 219

A-B-A form 150, 347, 351

A-B-A form in adverts 303

unidimensional, circular, centripetal 334

Abba 31

Abbey Road 79

abbreviation(s)

dates 389

list of 387-388

pitch references 389

in recapitulation 306-307

Aboriginals 272

‘above’ in music 310

absolutism

medieval church 52

musicological 53, 54, 57, 59

accentuation 294, 300

accentual diffusion 300, 309

accentual direction 292, 293, 299, 300

accentual distribution 293, 300, 303

accentual emphasis 293

accentual prolongation 293, 300, 308, 309

of initial upbeat 295

accompaniment

accompanying musemes 150-184

miscellaneous 181-184

defined in relation to melody 186

relation to visual environment 322

strings parts 99

visual and musical 255

See also Melody/accompaniment dualism

accordion 131

acid rock 98

Ack hör du lille Erik 216

acoustic space/territory 165, 320

acoustics 104, 105, 314, 315

action 189, 190, 198, 200, 222, 228, 256

active v. passive voice 305

Acts of the Apostles 274

additive rhythm 229-234, 256, 261

See also Metre

Adorno, T W 64, 289

Adventures in Paradise (theme from) 93

Adventures in the Orient 220

Adventures of Frank Merriwell 207

Adventures of Robin Hood 88

Adventures of Sherlock Holmes 198

advertising 92, 103

beer in A-B-A form 303

breaks 85, 128

music in 26, 90

radio and/or TV 94, 95, 122, 127

revenue from 122

Aeneas 163, 164

Aero Dynamics 92

aesthetics

absolute 53, 54, 57, 59

Adorno/Hegel 64

aesthetic superiority 32

affect 45-50, 51

affectif 48

affection 45, 48

affective meaning: universals of 75

affective constants 314-316

affective variables 318-321

affective verbal response to music 76

Affektenlehre 45, 46, 47, 51-54

analysis of: general problems 100-120

definitions 45-50

emotion and 48-49

etymology 48

‘law of’ 49, 50

musical term 49-50

psychological term 48-49

Theory of 45, 45-47

undifferentiated 49

universals of affective meaning 75

African-American genres 42, 43

Aftonbladet 72, 284, 352

aggression/aggressive 222, 228, 252, 255, 263, 283

violence 179, 229-234

excessive in Kojak 283

glorification of in music 232

agitation 182, 222, 228, 263

agogic 151, 233

ahistoricity (of musicology) 53

aim of dissertation 25

Air Adventures of Jimmy Allen 207

airplay 43

Aktuellt 235

Alberich (Ring) 226

Albion Country Band 216

Alcuin 51

aleatory music 54

Alexander’s Ragtime Band 42

Alfie 96

Alfvén, H 96

Alice’s Restaurant 96

All in the Family 155

All This and Heaven Too 87, 207

Allah 272

Alldahl, P G 113

allegro con brio 55

Almighty 273

Alpensymphonie 188, 192, 205

Alpert, H 219

Alpha and Omega 273

Also sprach Zarathustra 96, 97, 98

alteration: See Harmony, Hypothetical subst.

Älvefärd 216

amateurs 33, 35

Amazon Warriors, The 257

ambiguity of musical and verbal message 250

ambitus: See Pitch

America(n): See United States of America

amplification 104

An die Musik 199

anabasis 52

analysis

art music/subjective 55-57

bar-by-bar commentary 55

basic units of expression 106-110

checklists for 102-106

formalism 55-57

interpretative method 110-119

lack of in popular music studies 77, 78

musematic 147-237

musical and visual 316-354

popular music analysis approaches 51-81

popular music research and 78-80

pragmatic background to 58-59

rock music 77

syntagmatic 287-354

theory and method

affect analysis 83-120

basic units of musical expression 106-110

centripetal/centrifugal models 332-354

checklists for analysis 102-106

choice of analysis object 100-101

communication model 69

conclusions of method discussion 80-81

congeneric/extrageneric 287-289

criteria for choice of object 100-101

further applications of 356-358

interpretative method 110-119

method, terms, procedure 106-120

visual 241-268, 271-277

Anatomy of a Murder (1959) 96

Ancient Greece and Rome 220

Anderson, L 169

Andersson, O 41

Andrews, E 244

Andros Targets, The 130, 235, 236, 247, 248

anger 179, 273

Angerer, P 213, 214

Angier, R P 48

animated film 95, 124

Anka, P 208

announcer (TV) 244

Anselm, E 288

Der Anstieg 205

Anthony, M 33

anti-bureaucratic 284

anticipation 293, 301

Anti-Dühring 54

anti-formalism 57

anti-heroes 247

anxiety 161

Apache 153

Apel, W 186

apocalypse 78

apotheosis 176, 179

approaching 179

Apu Sansar 98

Arbetet 72

archaism 215

archetypes

genre connotations 98

visual 243

archivism (musicological) 53

Are You Experienced? 44

aristocracy 39

Aristotle 51

Aristoxenos 51

Arlen, H 64. Over The Rainbow 199

armies 246

Arne, T A 41

Arnold, M 89

arpeggios 165

Arrival of the Queen of Sheba 168

Arsenic and Old Lace 88

‘Art for Art’s sake’ 59

art music 37, 53, 54

Adorno on 64

definitions 30-36

dilemma of 27

in films 87, 91

institutionalisation of 54

main traits 35-36

notation and 39-41

social hegemony and 36

theme tunes and 96

As Time Goes By 88

ASCAP/BMI war 42

Ascenseur pour l'Échaffaud 96

ascent into heaven 273, 274, 275

asceticism 247

Ashley, C 215

Assafiev, B 62-64, 115

assimilation

deletion by 293, 300

post-contextual v. anticipatory 308

post-contextual 309

associational procedure 144-145

asymmetric rhythm 229-234, 261

At The Castle Gate (Sibelius) 96, 183

atonality 89, 210, 230, 234, 237

Atmosphères 96

attack 104

Attaignant, P 39

attention 198, 200, 222, 228

audibility of musemes/recording 305, 313

audience for Kojak series 125-127

audiovisual learning process: music and moving image 88, 89, 91, 99

Aufbruch zur jagd 189

augmented fifths 200

Augustine, St 51

autonomy (aesthetics) 45, 54, 57, 59, 61, 85

of musical structure as relative 61

See also Absolutism, musicological

axiomatic triangle: art, folk, popular music 30-36

Axt, W and Mendoza, D 87, 228

B

B section (Kojak theme) 228-239

syntagmatic significance of 237

babbling 173, 178, 179

Bach, J S 19, 32, 40, 55, 62, 96, 167, 179

Johnannes-Passion (opening) 173

Matthäus-passion (Vorhang im Tempel) 165

Bachmann, F 62, 78

backbeat 151-152

background music

Background Music for Home Movies 92, 169

film and TV 85-92

Muzak 83-85

Baggaley, J 68

baguettes d’éponge 164

Baines, A 187, 188, 189

baldness 245, 246, 247, 252, 254, 258, 263, 267, 268, 284-285

sexuality and 247

Bältet 216

Band, The 96

Bandiera rossa 115

bankrupt 262

barbarism 230

Barber of Seville 183

Baretta 93, 128, 129, 131, 154, 218, 247

baroque era 45-47, 51, 52, 53

Barron, K 216

Barry, J 96, 131, 157, 199, 200

James Bond Theme 131, 200

Barthes, R 65, 287

Bartók, B 19, 36, 41, 89, 209, 214, 215, 220, 230, 307, 389-390

String Quartet 2, 3rd movement 214

Piano Concerto 2, 2nd movement 389

Basie, Count 64

bass 222, 316, 339, 345

acoustic bass 153

electric 152, 153, 154

figures and function 105

motifs 150-157

slap bass 153

static 156

syncopation becomes triplet figure 345

bathing beauties 219

Batman 246, 247

battle music 232. See also Fight

The Battle 232

Bauhaus style 54

Bax, A 89

BBC Radio 3 32

The Beat Goes On 77

Beatles, The 79, 115, 249

Beaud 27, 37

bebop 113, 116

Because (Beatles) 79

Becce, G 86, 157

bedroom disco 154

Bee-Gees: Staying Alive (hook) 152

Beethoven, L van 56, 62, 96, 232

Eroica Symphony 190

Fifth Symphony 192

behaviour

behaviourism 75

Kojak’s 269-271, 282-286

norms of 103

Bellman, C M 30

Ben Casey (theme) 93

Ben Hur 265

Benestad, F 54, 57, 60

Bengtsson, I 41, 55, 67-68, 106, 111-112, 114, 118, 158, 185, 186, 291

Benjaminson, W 18

Bennett, R R 89

Berendt, J E 79

Berger, D G 39

Berger, J 249

Berger, S 18

Bergman, I 96

Berio, L 89

Berkeley, L 89

Berlin 350

Berlioz, H 162, 163, 164, 167, 168, 173, 179, 180, 205, 228, 231, 232, 234

The Berlioz Syndrome 87

La prise de Troie 163

Le combat de Ceste 231

Roméo et Juliette 159

Les troyens à Carthage 164

Bernstein, E 96, 158, 198, 217, 228

Bernstein, L 65, 108, 159, 179-80, 233, 275

West Side Story fight music 167, 233

Berry, Chuck 208

Bertolucci, B 19

Bible, The 165, 264, 265, 271-277, 390-391

bibliography 359-371

Big Apple, The 262

big band 37, 43, 151, 181

Big Ben 94

‘big’ See under Open spaces

Bilk, A 198

Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home? 42

Billy Liar 96

Billy The Kid Suite 155

biographies 77

bird calls 178

Birds of Fire 216

Bitches Brew 215

bitterness 179

bitter-sweet 161

Björnberg, Alf 18, 204

The Black Angel 216

‘black music’ 37

Blacking, J 34

Blackleg Miner 216

black-out 245

blasphemy 116

Blaukopf, K 30

Blest Pair of Sirens 41

Blom, E 46, 47

Blomberg, G 58

Blood Sweat and Tears 113, 216

Blue Danube Waltz 36, 96

Blue Moon 31

Blue Shield/United Medical Services 84

blues 37, 42, 79

electric 111

blues harp 43

Blümel 189

blurring 165

BMI/ASCAP war 42

Bob Hope Show 198, 207

Bodell, B 18

Boethius 51

Bogart, H 195

Bohlin, F 39

Bold Venture 198

bold(ness) 210, 222, 251, 252, 254, 258, 296, 297, 299, 302, 304, 308, 310, 311, 312

Bolinger, D 108

Bonanza 154, 155, 171, 207

Bonny and Clyde, Theme from 93

Bontinck, I 26, 77

boogie 204

Booker T and the MGs 44, 390

bookshops 79

boom 173

Boosey & Hawkes 92, 198

bored 162

Borg, C 77

Boris Godunov 200

Born Free 96

Born to be Wild 98

Borodin, A P 155, 200, 212, 213

On the Steppes of Central Asia (start) 155

In the Forest/ Sleeping Princess 213

Bosch, H 246

bossa nova 218, 219

Boulanger, N 90

bouncers 247

Bourdieu, P 37

bourgeoisie 54, 63

bowing 104

Boye, H 72

BPI 72

Brackenjagd 189

Brandenburg Concerto 55

brass 181, 222

Brave Tomorrow 207

bravery 227, 258

BRD 78

breadth 251, 252, 254, 258, 263

Brecker Brothers 216

Brelet, G 288

Bret, G 55

The Brides of Fu-Manchu 246

bridges (musical) 85, 122, 268

bright activity 169

Brighton 31

Brinner, Y 247, 270

Britten, B 88, 89, 171, 173, 182

broad shoulders 246

Broadcasting Yearbook of America 37, 121, 122

broadsides 30, 33, 40

Brocklehurst 25

brook 161, 173, 179

Brookmeyer, Bob 216

brooks 163

Brooks, Bill 15, 18, 50, 212

Brooks, Mel: Springtime for Hitler 199

Brossard, S de 46

The Brothers (BBC TV) 154, 155, 197, 205

Brown Jr., O 181

Brown Sugar 44

Brünnhilde 225

brutality 246, 247

brute 252, 254

brute force 254, 258, 268, 285

See also Aggression

Buddha’s Fire sermon and Enlightenment 272

building blocks (musical) terminology 106-110

Bull, J 189

bull’s head 246

Bulova Watch Co. 84

Bunker, E 128, 284, 352

Burial (Grablegung) 214

Burke, S 152

burlesque 40

burning: See Fire

business 70-73, 77, 122-125

capital circulation in record business 71

economy 101

ethical contradictions in music 72

Kojak 121

music business 70-73

sales

Kojak, international 125

music product statistics 27

teleproduct 122

sheet music 31

turnover 54

‘bust their chops’ 283

bustling 169, 222, 228, 251, 252, 254, 263, 266, 324, 331, 332

bygone days 131

Byrd, W 19, 39, 189, 232

C

Cacavas, J 89, 95, 123

cacccia 188

Cade’s County 217

Caine Mutiny 88

Cale, J J 218

California 98

Call to the Hunt 189

calm 251

Calpurnia 167

Calvacoressi 200, 213

CAM 92

camera angle/distance 103, 245, 285

changes of 261

distance 252, 253, 317, 318

Kojak 245, 267

close-up 245, 267

to background 341

to Kojak 341

from below 267

head-on 259

motion towards 256, 257, 264

wide-angle perspective 253, 254, 273, 285

Camp on Blood Island 246

Campbell, G 236

Canada: music education in 26

Candé, R de 86, 91

Cannon 95, 129, 131, 247, 248

cantabile 296

cantometrics 41

capitalism 15, 29, 30, 39, 52, 54, 70, 71

capital circulation in record business 71

ethics (lack of) in music business 72

prerequisite for popular music 30

See also Business

Captain Blood 88

‘Car’ soft drinks 315

Carlsson, A 18, 20, 44

Caroll, G 33

Carr, V 96

Casablanca 88

Cascades, The 173

Cassandra 163

Cassirer, P 18

Castro, F 19

catalysts in development of popular music 29

catharsis 128

La cathédrale engloutie 213

Cavalli 189

Cavallius, G 18, 243, 257

Cecilianism 40

Cedars of Lebanon 273

censorship 272

central perspective 265

central point

A in A-B-A form 333-335

Kojak as 247, 253, 264, 267, 268, 273, 321, 322, 331, 343, 349

in the periphery as 253

centripetal/centrifugal processes

centrifugality 16, 332-354

centripetality 16, 332-354

centripetal monocentric processes 350

centripetal processes 332-354

centripetality 16

sweep-in 248

interpretation 344-354

musical 335-339

perceptual patterns per se 349

visual 339-343

Ceremonial Entrance 92

cha-cha-cha 116

Chamberlain, R 93

Chameleon 151

The Champions (theme) 198, 207, 208

Chandu the Magician 220

Chaplin, C 245

Chappell, W 31, 41

chariots of fire 274, 391

Charlton, O 19

chart hyping 72

Charters, S 79

chase scene 258

chastise 179

checklists 102-106

acoustics 105

comments on 105-106

dynamics 105

general aspects of musical communication 102-103

instruments 104

melodic aspects 104

musical considerations 104-106

paramusical considerations 102-104

paramusical cultural expression 103-104

studio recording 105

temporal aspects of music 104

tonality and texture 104-105

Chemins de terre 216

Chicago blues 43

Chingpaw 272

Chomskian linguistics: 291-309

Chomsky, N 291

Chopin, F 19

chorale harmonisation 217

chorale preludes 93

chord: See Harmony

Chorebus 163

chorus effects: See Sound treatment

The Christians 220

chromaticism 231

Chronicles (Book of) 274, 390, 391

chronological v. musical time 351

Cicero 48

circulation of capital 71

city: See Urban

Claribel 199

Clarida, Bob 217, 235

clarinet: connotations of sound of 113

class

bourgeoisie 54

changing dynamic of 71

difference 54, 285

high quality 220

musical representation of 98

musical taste 40

origins of ‘new left’ 63

classical music (European): See Art music

clatter 173

Clayton, M 93, 154, 218

Clear the Road 189

Cleopatra Jones (theme from) 93

Clerk, K 96

click track 124, 243

Clockwork Orange 96

Close Encounters of the Third Kind 89

close-up: See Camera distance

clothing 103, 270-271, 273

suits, smart dressing 283

Cobine, Al 181

Coca Cola 131, 328

Cocaine 218

coda function 309

codal incompetence/interference 70, 102-103

coffee table on TV 244, 245

Cohn, N 77

coins 246

cold 179, 220, 222

Cold, Haily, Windy Night 216

Collection Drama (Gabriel-Marie) 86

collective v. private/individual 269-270, 352

The Collector 90

Collins, K 15

Coltrane, J 215

Columbo 91, 128, 247

Le Combat de Ceste 231, 232

Combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda 232

Come in Number 51, Your Time is Up 96

comedy 127, 154

commercial(s): See Advertising, Business

commercialism 70

commodity

classical music in film as 87

commodity fetishism 63

marketing classical music 220

musical 70, 71, 72

communication. See also Semiotics

communicative behaviour 49

general aspects of musical 102-103

model (music analysis) 67-70

Bengtsson 68

Eco 67

Tagg 69

process in popular music 70-81

Kojak theme 121-146

situation

Kojak 126-132

communism 15

commutation: See Hypothetical substitution

comparison

interobjective 112-114

intersubjective 112

compass 104

compassion 285

competition (laws of) 54

completion (musical) 50

composer 47, 54

Composing for the Films 87

composition technique 105, 314, 315

visual 316

compression 44, 105

concentric model

A-B-A form 334

visual 256

Concerto for Orchestra (Bartók) 209, 214

concrete jungle 254, 273

condescending 271

condottiaires 246

confident/confidence 210, 222, 228, 251, 252, 254, 258, 263, 295, 296, 299, 302, 304, 308, 311, 318, 320, 322, 331, 347

confusion 179

musematic meaning 113

congeneric v. extrageneric analysis 16, 287-289

congruity of musical and visual processes 321-332

Conley, A 152

conservativism in music industry 71

consonance

internal, external 169

Moog ostinato 166-168

constants

musical 314-315

visual 315-316

constitutio temperamenti 46

consultants 144-145

contested reiteration 165

continuation (musical) 50

continuity: visual 254

contour: melodic 104

contradictions

Kojak’s personality 285

Kojak’s relation to environment 285-286

musical and visual message 250

conversation

Kojak in 252, 254, 255, 258

The Coo-Coo Bird 215

Cooke, D 55, 65, 198, 209

cool jazz 98

Coon, C 71, 77

Cooper, Alice 44, 270, 390

Cooper, Gary 270

Copland, A 89, 155, 200, 315

On the Open Prairie (Billy the Kid) 155

cops 284, 285

cor anglais 99

Corea, C 215, 216, 220

Corinthians, Letter to the 27

coronation of Boris Godunov 200

Coronation Street 154

correspondence

musical and paramusical symbols 99

music/visual 258. See also Visual/musical etc.

corridor 256

costs of producing Kojak 121

counterpoint 105

Counterspy 198, 206

Country music (USA) 32, 37, 42, 272

countryside 177, 179

Covay, D 152

cover versions 31

covers of sheet music 42

crackling fires 173

Craddock, Professor 246

credits 94, 95. See also Titles

Creed (Nicene) 273

crescendo 268

crime/criminality 129, 249, 258

Crime Does Not Pay 207

critical theory 64

Cross Index Guide (library music) 92

cross-cultural universals of affective meaning 75

Crossroads 154, 155

crowd(s) 160, 163, 169, 172, 179, 180

Cruise, D A 108

Crumbling Land 96

Cuba 37

Cul-de-sac (Polanski) 246

cultural commodity 72

Curtis, King: Memphis Soul Stew 152

cyclosis 46

cymbal 164, 165

cynical 283

Czerny, P 25, 62, 77

D

Dagens Nyheter 72, 125, 127, 283, 284

Dahlhaus, C 54

Dahlqvist, R 18, 189

Dance Suite (Bartók) 36, 214

Dancing In The Street 153

Dandy 96

danger: See under Threat

Daniel (book of) 274, 391

Daniélou, A 51

Danish bacon: music for advert 90

Dankworth, A 79

Daphnis et Chloë 165, 166, 174, 175, 176, 179, 180

dapper 283

Dare, Dan 246

Darin, Bobby 208

dark(ness) 173, 182, 250, 251, 254, 256, 258, 260, 285, 318, 322, 324, 326, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 343, 345, 347, 349

low pitch 17 3

Darling Savishna 213

dart 179

Dart, T 40

dates: abbreviation of 389

Davis, A 19

Davis, C 72, 77

Davis, M 64, 96, 216

So What 215

Davis Jr., S 154, 218

DDR 78

Kulturcentrum 18

Fernsehen 32

death 161, 163, 179

Death in Venice 96

Debussy, C 169, 179, 180, 207, 212, 213

La cathédrale engloutie 213

Fêtes (opening) from 3 nocturnes 169

Mélisande’s doubt (Pelléas et Mélisande) 159

Sarabande (Pour le piano) 213

Decapitation of St James 257

Deep Purple 218

deep structure 291-309

definitions

affect 45-50

art music 30-36

filler 266

folk music 30-36

genres 78

hypothetical substitution 114-117

intonation 62-64

IOCM 112-114

morpheme 107

museme 106-108

museme stack 108-109

museme string 109-110

music’s stage in communication process 118

notational centricity 41

phenomenology 60

popular music 29-45

popular music (negative) 34

deification 352. See also God

delay (digital/tape) 44, 105

See also Sound treatment

Delerue, G 90

deletion (in generative models)

by assimilation 293, 300

non-accent at same pitch 300

Deliver Us Some Evil (Kojak episode) 128

Dellinger, R 127

demographics 37, 92, 125, 126

demoniac 225

demonstration

central perspective view of 266

Les demoiselles de Rochefort 90

Denisoff, R S 63, 72, 77

Department of Music, Göteborg 80

Departure for Italy 164

depressed 162

descent from heaven 273, 274, 275

design (graphic) 103

despair 163, 179

Desperado 270

destiny 163, 179

Destrempes, J 18, 19, 145

desultory 222, 231, 252, 255, 263

desyncopation 309

detective 167

music 100

stories 127-132

Deuteronomy (book of) 272, 274, 390, 391

deviation (musical) 50

devil(s) 166, 179, 246

dew 179

Dewey, J 48

diagonals 253, 254, 257

Dial ‘M’ For Murder 88

Dick Van Dyke Show 155

Diderot, D 52, 53

Dido & Aeneas 189

digital delay 105

dignity 115, 116

Dillon, Mat 195

diminished: See Harmony

dimness 258

direction(ality)

Kojak in relation to sweep-ins 260

Kojak’s on-screen action 342

of visual action 317

of time 347

dirty 98

Dirty Harry 328

disaster movies 274, 391

disciplined battle 232. See also Battle

disco music 152

bedroom disco 154

Disney, W 96

disorder 231, 234

disruption, geometrical 261

dissonance 231

Moog ostinato 166-168

distance 275

between music and audience 105

distension of horizontals 261

Distler, H 213, 214

distortion (fuzz) 44, 98, 104, 116

visuals 261

Divertimento for Strings (Bartók) 214

Dives and Lazarus 30

divine: See God

division of labour 35

composing title and underscore 96

prerequisite for popular music 30

title music/underscore composing 95

Dixon, E 96

Dixon, R M W 42, 71, 77

Dr Hekyl and Mr Jive 181

Dr Kildare Theme 93, 198, 207

Dr No 129, 131, 200, 246

title sequences 95

Dr Zhivago 90

documentaries 32

dodecaphony 54

Doderer 232

dogmatism 52, 53, 63, 64

Dolan, R E 60, 90, 91, 95, 174, 315, 220

Dombkowski, D 88

dominance

accompaniment over melody 305

relative of figure/ground 315, 318, 319, 321, 322, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 339, 343, 345, 347, 348, 350, 351, 354

Dominique, C A 113

Don Juan (film 1926) 87, 207

Don Juan (Strauss) 192, 205

Don’t Throw Your Love Away 113

Donnington, R 227

door 256

dotted crotchet figure 201-205

double repetition: See Propulsive repetition

double tracking: See Sound treatment

doubt 179

Dowland, J 44, 390

Down Among The Sheltering Palms 42

Drach, M 96

Dragos 246, 247

driving the action 128, 259, 273, 284

drone 155

drop-off point (musical/chronological time) 351

drugs 98, 284

drum(s)

roll 183

snare 205

talking 93

Das DT Liederbuch 334

Du bist wie eine Blume 199

Du gamla, du fria 115

dualism

figure/ground, melody/accompaniment 252

melody accompaniment 250

dubbing 105

Duchess Music Corporation 20, 124, 133, 135, 137, 138, 139, 140, 142

Duck, S 68

Dufay, G 52

Dulay, A 86

Dumbarton Oaks 214

durability 265, 266

duration 104, 243

title tunes 98

dynamics 105, 300, 314

E

The Eagle (comic) 246

earthquake 164, 172, 179

East of Eden 90

Eastwood, C 328

easy listening 32, 76, 219

Easy Rider 90, 96, 98

ecclesiastical institutionalism 52

echo 105

eclecticism (title themes): See Title music

Eco, U 67

economy: See Business

Eddie Cantor Show 207

Edefors, Å 18

Eden, Garden of 246

Édition Montparnasse 92

editions of this book (differences between) 15

Edström, O 18, 145

education (music) 25-28, 33

Canada 26

Sweden and Germany 25-26

United Kingdom, USA, USSR 26

egghead (evil) 246

Egypt 220

Ehnmark, E 272

Eintritt in der Wald 187, 188

Eisler, H 19, 64, 87, 334, 335

Eldenius, M 18, 80, 204

electric: See Bass, Blues, Guitar

Electric Prunes, The 96

electroencephalogram 75

electromusical treatment: See Sound treatment

electronic music 89

Electronics 101

Elektra Grammofon AB 27

Elijah 274, 390

elision (in generative analysis) 300

deletion by 294

musemes of 107

Elizabeth Rogers Hir Virginall Booke 232

Ellery Queen 89, 128

Ellington, Duke 64, 96

Ellis, D: Higher (bass riff) 151

Elvén, T 19

Elvesson, H 20

Elvira Madigan 96, 97, 98

Emerson, Lake and Palmer 36

emic-etic approach 67, 289

Emmerdale Farm 99, 154

emotion 45-48

affect and 48-49

description of musical 55-57

emphasis: See Accentuation

Empire State Building 253, 254, 274

empirical sociology 74

enclosed 320, 324, 326, 327, 329, 331, 332, 347

Encyclopaedia Biblica 274, 390

Encyclopaedia of Popular Music of the World 216

encyclopaedists 46, 47, 52

energy/energetic 155, 189, 190, 198, 200, 222, 227, 228, 250, 251, 254, 255, 258, 263, 268, 295, 296, 297, 302, 304, 308, 310, 311, 312, 314, 315, 318, 354

Engdahl, G 19, 113

Engels, F 54

Engman, G 125

Enter Laughing 96

The Entertainer Rag 96, 97

envelope 104

environment 253

dominates foreground figure 262

Kojak’s 285-286

visual and musical 255

epistemology

dualism in Western culture 289, 333

of music 66, 357

epizeuxis 46

Eppstein, H 46, 47, 58

equalising: See Sound treatment

Erdmann, B 73, 74

Eriksson, B 18, 63

Erlkönig 161, 171, 179, 217

Eroica Symphony 190

eschatalogical Protestantism 271, 272

Eskilstuna 27

Essays on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections 46

E.T. 89

eternal 39, 98, 193, 200, 220, 272

ethics 72, 287

ethnocentricity 58, 64

etic-emic approach 67, 289

euphoria 83

Eurovision Song Contest 31, 235

evaluation, potency and activity (Osgood) 250, 332

evergreens 43

Everybody’s Doin’ It Now 42

Everything I Love 207

evil 161, 246

excitement/exciting 189, 190, 198, 222, 226, 228, 231, 234, 236, 239, 260, 261, 285, 296, 297, 302, 304, 305, 308, 310, 311, 312, 315, 318, 321, 323, 327, 331, 332, 347, 352, 354

exclamatio 46

executioner 246, 247, 250, 252, 254, 258, 261, 268, 285, 322, 326, 329, 351

exegesis 16, 57, 79

exhilarating 332, 349, 352, 354

Exodus (book of) 265, 266, 273, 274, 390

exoticism 214, 230

expectation 179, 308

musical 50, 288

‘experts’ (informants) 144-145

Expressen 72

expressionism 61

external consonance 169

extrageneric 16, 287-289, 333, 387

See also Analysis

extramusical 15, 387

extraopus 387

eye 179, 245, 247, 248, 252, 259, 261, 263, 268, 390

visual stylisation of 249, 251

F

Fabbri, F 15

Faith, P 88, 155, 198, 217

Fall of the Roman Empire 88

Falla, M de 214

Farruca (Sombrero de 3 picos) 214

falling fifths 162

falsification: See Hypothetical substitution

hypothetical substitution as means of 114-5

A Family at War 96

family drama/soaps 130, 131

fanfare 92, 195, 197, 205, 206, 208, 209, 210, 222, 226, 227, 232, 237, 296, 299, 302, 303, 304, 308, 310, 311, 312, 322

See also Triplet figure

Fantasia (Disney) 96

Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis 390

Farnaby, G 36, 44, 189

Farnabye’s Dreame 44, 390

Farruca 214

fashion 219

fatalism 55

capitalism and 72

FBI (Shadows) 153

FBI (TV) 196, 205, 197

FBI Story (film) 88

fear 179, 232

feminine ending 299

Fender Stratocaster 153, 190

festivity 169

Fêtes (Debussy) 169

feudalism 29, 30, 39, 52, 53, 54

Feurich, H-J 78

fifths 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 200, 211, 212, 215, 216, 220

fight 172, 179, 231, 233. See also Aggression

figure

figurae pricipales 52

musical and visual processes 327-329

relation music/image 322

figure/ground dualism 250, 252, 349

monocentricity 350

relation music/image 258, 325-332

See also Melody/accompaniment dualism

La fille aux cheveux de laine 213

filler 266

film

business 88

industry 87

music 26

classical music arranged for 87

functions of 85, 86

underscore 85-91

filtering 105

final transcription 140-142

finality 268, 354

finale 209

extension of 309

marker of 308

of overture 182-183, 320, 345, 354

finance capitalism 15

fire 160, 163, 167, 173, 178, 179, 180, 227

ablaze 273

and damnation 272

pillar of 266, 273

symbolism of 274, 390

Fire Boy 246

Firebird Suite 179, 180

Fistful of Dollars 198

Fitzwilliam Virginal Book 40, 41, 189

Five English Folk Songs 390

flanging: See Sound treatment

Flatt and Scruggs 131

The Flaxton Boys 96

The Flight of the Bumble Bee 167

flute 87

Flying Dutchman’s motif 194

focal point: See Centre point

folk music

definitions 30-36

ethnic aspect of 37

main traits 34-35

notation and 41-42

Folk och rackare 216

Folkways 215

Fonagy, I 108

Fontana di Trevi al meriggio 179

fonts (in title sequences) 94

football results (TV broadcast of) 236

forest: See Woodland

form 104

connotations of musical 117

fixation on in conventional music ‘analysis’ 56

Kojak theme 150, 313-354

meaning of in Kojak theme 313-354

totality not equal to sum of parts 118-119

visual symmetry of 253

formalism 16, 45, 53, 54, 63, 287

C20 musicology 59-62

music analysis 55-57

music semiotics and 65

format: See also Radio

sound carriers and notation 38

Fornäs, J 18, 64, 71

forte/fortissimo 314

fountain 176, 177, 179

Four Seasons 96

fourths 211, 212, 215, 216, 220

frame

borders crossed by visual action 257

luminosity of Kojak’s 343

picture continuing outside 257

screen position of Kojak’s 341

speed in Kojak titles243

speed of in films 60

Francès, R 75, 165, 173, 176, 187

Frankfurt-am-Main 64

Franklin, A: Since You've Been Gone 151

‘free’ enterprise/market 34, 36, 54, 70, 72, 126

freedom of expression 54

French accordion 131

French Connection 96

French horn: See Horn

French impressionism 207, 212, 220

French overture 204

Den Frieden, Dem Freiheit 32

Friedhofer, H 88, 174, 198

friendly 271

Friendly Persuasion 88

fright 163, 179

Fripp, R 216

Frith, S 77

Frobe, G 246

Frontiere, D 198

Frostensson, C 74

Frühlingsrauschen 219

Fu Man Chu 246

Führer durch den Konsertsaal 58

fulcrum: See Centre point

‘functional’ music 83-85

functions of title music 93-97, 126, 130

funeral marches 176

Funeral March of the Revolutionaries 115

funk 150-157, 218, 219

further research 358

Furuhammar, L 71

fuzz: See Distortion

G

Gabriel-Marie 86

Gallen-Kallela, A 194

gallop 160, 161, 163, 179, 188, 225, 227

galvanometers 75

gang fights 232

Garcia, J 96

Garfield, H 18, 124

Garfunkel, A 96

Garvin, R 33

Gates of Kiev 209

gateway 256

gating 105

Gayane Ballet Suite 96

gaze (Kojak’s) 249, 252, 268

GDR: See DDR

Geistliche Konzert (Distler) 214

generative analysis

Kojak melodic line (1) 300

grammar 118

music models 291-309

Gengis Khan 246

genres

musical categorisation 74

relative popularity in Sweden 27

typology of in popular music 32-45

Gentle Giant 32

Gerhard, R 89

Germany, music education in 25, 26

Gershwin, G 64, 172, 179, 207, 233

Porgy and Bess: Impending fight 172,

actual fight 233

Gerstenburg, W 57

gestalt psychology 60

gestures (Kojak’s) 271

Gevaert (Belgian musicologist) 188

ghetto 130, 285

Gibbons, S 218

Gigant (comic) 246, 265

Gillett, C 42

Glamour Girl 219

Glanzelius, I 18

glass 226, 264

gleaming 264

Glebov 200

glissando 104

glisten/glitter: See Shimmer

glorification of Kojak’s name 273-5

Gnistan 64

The Go-Between 90

God 39

Allah 272

Buddha 272

divine power 271

divine wrath and retribution 271-272

Kojak as 272-275

God Save the Queen 115, 116

Gold, E 228

Goldberg Variations 32, 96

Goldenberg, W 95, 123, 125, 137, 138, 139, 140, 144, 179

biography (short) of 123

Kojak theme 137-142

final transcription 140-142

unavailability of 123

Goldfinger 129, 246, 270

Gone with the Wind 88

Goodrich, J 42, 71, 77

goody v. baddy 258

Göransson, T 18, 95

gospel music 272

Göteborg 27, 44, 115, 144, 291, 298, 350

Handels och Sjöfartstiding 72

Universitetsbibliotek 18

University 80, 243

Grablegung 214

The Graduate 90, 96

Graham, L: Rap on Mr Writer (bass riff) 151

Grain Belt Beer 303

Grainer, R: Maigret Theme 131

gramophone 31, 40, 41, 42, 43

grandiose 92, 176

Grandstand (BBC) 236

The Grapes of Wrath 272

graphic design 103

Grateful Dead 44, 96, 390

Grave-Müller, L 18

Graves, R 246

Gravesen, F 73, 74

The Great Dictator, The 245

Greece 130

Greek

bible quote 272, 273, 274, 390-392

meander patterns 248

The Green Hornet 167

Green Onions 44, 390

Greenwich mean time pips 94

Gregorian plainchant 39, 214

Gretschen am Spinnrade 161, 179

ground

dominates figure 261

musical and visual processes 329-331

relation music/image 322

visual and musical 255

See also Melody/accompaniment dualism

growl 173

Guback, T 88

guerilla warfare 232

Guido d’Arezzo 51

Guinness, A 125

guitar (electric) 44, 98, 99

Gunfight at OK Coral 88

Guns of Navarone 88

Gunsmoke 95, 154, 195, 205, 217

gushing 177, 179

Guthrie, A 96

H

Hackzell & Kask 193, 194, 199, 226, 227

Hadjidakis, M 96

Hahn, C 18

hairlessness: See Bald

Halévy 189

Hall, C-A 18

Hall, L 18

Hallin, M 18

Halvsju 244

Hamilton, C 97

Hamlisch, M 96

Hamm, C 25

Hammer Films 246

Hammond, J (Sr.) 42

Hammond organ 36

Hancock, H 151, 220

bass from Chameleon (Head Hunters) 151

Händel, G F 40, 113, 115, 167, 168, 179, 180, 231

Aria from The Passion 160

The Messiah: But who may abide 160; He was despiséd 113

Solomon: Arrival of the Queen of Sheba 168

Orlando: mad scene 231

Hang ’em High 198

Hank’s Opener 152

Hanser-Strecker, P 78

Hanslick, E 53, 54, 60, 62

happy 179

Haralambos, M 37, 71, 77, 154, 272

hard-sounding name 247

Hardy, P 216

Hark! All ye Lovely Saints Above 44, 390

Hark! The Herald Angels Sing 116

Hark! The Village Wait 216

Harlem 218

Harman, A 39, 45, 47, 51, 213

harmony 47, 104, 105, 222

chorale harmonisation 217

chords

alteration of 105

diminished fifths 167, 200

diminished sevenths 162, 163

eleventh 211, 212, 219, 263, 307

flat mediant (triad of) 44

minor add nine 157, 161

minor major seven 99, 100

minor major nine 157

minor eleven 263

seventh chords 99, 100, 162, 163, 219

shuttle chords 234

submediant (triad of) 44

suspension 113, 309

thirteenth (two meanings) 113

triad of leading note 44

harmonic centre 318, 336

harmonic idiom 105, 211-221, 316, 336

harmonic rhythm 105, 316, 318, 319, 320, 337, 344

in horror situations 200

modal/rock 44

quartal 113, 307, 211-221, 309, 388, 389-390

rise in pitch of 267

tertial 105, 309, 388

Harris, R 108

Hartwich-Wiechell, D 44, 78, 79, 216

Haslum, B 77

hat (Kojak’s) 254, 256

Hatch, T 72, 99, 131, 154, 155, 207, 228, 235

The Champions 207

Sportsnight 154, 235

Haug, W F 63

Haupttema des Mannes 192

Hawaii 5-0 198, 207

Haydn, J 189

Hayes, I 154, 218, 235

Shaft 154, 235

He was despiséd 113

Head Hunters 151

Heart Beat, Pig Meat 96

Hearts of Oak 41

heat 179, 275

heaviness 173

Hebrews, Letter to 274, 390, 391

Hedeback, C O 101, 129, 132

Hedeback, L 320

Heilbut, T 272

Heinichen, J D 46

Hejjaz mode 116

Ein Heldenleben 187, 192, 194, 205

hell 179

Hell Is For Heroes 90

Hellqvist, P-A 27, 77

Helmer, A 18

helmet 247,247

Helms, S 72, 77, 78

Helsingborg 27

Hemphill, P 272

Hendrix, J 44, 96, 116

solo in Red House (Are You Experienced) 44

Henry V 232

Hergé 246

hermeneutics 16, 61, 62, 65, 66, 67, 73, 74, 75, 78, 79, 80, 287

hermeneutic intuition 110-112

hermeneutics of music 57-59

hermeneutisches Wörterbuch 52

Hermitage Church (Padova) 257

hero/heroic/heroism 114, 128, 129, 145, 157, 163, 189, 190, 192, 193, 194, 196, 197, 198, 200, 207, 209, 210, 222, 225, 227, 228, 247, 250, 251, 252, 254, 258, 262, 263, 266, 273, 285, 295, 296, 297, 299, 302, 303, 304, 305, 308, 310, 311, 312, 322, 326, 327, 328, 329, 331, 332, 345, 347, 348, 351, 352, 354

French horn 187, ff.

Heroic Endeavour 198

heroine 87, 162

hero-mythical 190

Herr Olof och Havsfrun 216

Hess, R 78

heterogeneity of TV audience 127

heterometre 230, 231

heterophony 105

The Hidden Persuaders 61

high and low pitch: concepts reversed 173

The High and the Mighty 88

High Chaparral 95, 207, 217

High Noon 88, 270

High Sierra 92

Higher (D Ellis) 151

Hindemith, P 89, 179, 180, 183, 215

Mathis der Mahler

finale 209

Grablegung 214

Versuchung des heiligen Antonius166

hired killers 270-271

Hiroshima mon amour 90

Hirsch, P M 72

historical parenthesis (standard musicology) 57

historicism 53

History of Art 101

Hitler, A 245

Hjalmarsson, U 18

Hjort Anders 80

Hoffman, D 284

Hoffman, H P 25, 62, 77

holism: interdisciplinary approach 102

Hollies 33

Holly, Buddy 173

Hollywood 87, 88, 91

Hollywood, Hollywood 121, 127, 128, 284

Holm, Bertil 20

Holman, Bill 216

Holmes, Sherlock 154

Un homme et une femme 234

homogeneity of target group 37

homophony 52, 105

Honegger, A 88, 89, 90, 171

honour 247

hoods 246

hope 179

horn 19, 114, 186-191

call 87, 193, 194, 222, 226, 250, 322, 328

signals 188, 189, 192

whoop 145, 191-200

Horn, D 15

Hornbostel, E M von 41

Horowitz, J 352, 353

horror 157, 232

harmony for 200

horses 161, 163, 171, 188, 195, 224

The Hot Rock 96

Houston, T 154

How the West was Won 220

film 196, 234

TV 197, 270

howlygettum 128

HS: See Hypothetical substitution

Hubbard, F 216, 220

Red Clay (riff) 216

Hubig, C 53, 54, 55, 58

Huddersfield Choral Society 40

Hugill, A 15

hum 173

Humanistiska samhällsvetenskapliga

forskningsrådet 20, 73

Hungary 26

The Hunt’s Up 189

hunting horn 188, 189, 192

Hupfeld, H 88

hurry 169, 231

Hutcheson, F 46, 48

Hylands hörna 244

hymns 217

hypostasis 46

hypothetical substitution 16, 114-117, 387

Berlioz’ ‘Combat de Ceste’ in 6/8 232

demonstration/explanation of 109

Kojak theme

as 16th century polyphony 217

as bossa nova 219

as funk 219

as heavy rock 218

as a hymn 217

as jig, pastorale, milksop, jazz 208

as romantic pop ballad 218

B section as asymmetrical/ terror 238

B section as Un homme et une femme 235

B section’s 5/4 replaced by 4/4 238

B section’s chords altered 238

bass 156-157

bass line legato e piano 157

bass line too dissonant 157

bass line too syncopated 157

chords in B section 234

Cm7 instead of Cm11 219

continue A section processes into B 238

horn part 190, 191

MP1 as syntactical nonsense 110

MP1 museme stack elements altered 109

museme 1, 7 versions 108

museme 2b as ‘atonal’ 167

museme 2b over wide pitch range 174

museme 2b played two octaves lower 172

museme 2b spread over wide pitch range (2) in all string parts 177

octave whoop 198-200

propulsive repetition 202-203

semiquaver ostinato in bass 172

substitution of basic pulse but retention of tremolando surface rate 171

tertial for quartal harmony 217

triplet figure’s ‘atonalisation’ 210

triplet figure’s pitch profile 210

triplet speed 208

with gallop ostinati 171

with oompah bass 156

with pedal point 156

lyrics: hypothetical substitution of 116

Swedish national anthem (8 versions) 115

I

I Cannot Sing the Old Songs 199

I Feel The Earth Move 151

I Get a Kick Out Of You 207

I Want To Live 98, 99

I Was Doin’ Alright 207

I’m In The Mood For Loving 207

I’ve Got You Under My Skin 207

Ibert, J 89

Ida Sweet As Apple Cider 42

ideology 45

The Iliad 272

IMC: See Item of musical code

‘imitation of nature’ 46

Immel, J 197, 228

How The West Was Won (TV) 197

impatience 163, 179

impending 172, 179. See also Murder, Threat

implacable 161, 163

impletion 300

important 98

improvisation 43

In Cold Blood 89, 96

In the Forest 213

In the Heat of the Night 96

inaccessibility 245, 272, 275

inaudible musemes 182

incarnation (Christ) 273, 274, 275

incompetence (codal) 102

Indian music (Northern) in film 98

individual 222, 228, 246, 250, 251, 252, 255, 258, 260, 263, 266

male 252

individualism 269-270

industrialisation 29, 30, 31, 33

industry: See Business

infidelity 179

Information Theory 66, 101

Ingarden, R 59

Ingelf, S 18, 113, 216

initial

hypotheses 110-112

melodic interval 115

motif 292, 294

musemes 292, 293, 294, 299, 300

opening (start) 92

upbeat accentuated 295

injustice 285

innuendo 245

insecurity 179

insinuation 245

insistent 222

instability, visual 261

instant jeopardy 127

Institut für Sozialforschung 64

institutionalisation of art music 54

instrumental music 52, 57

instrumentation 295, 300, 305, 308, 309, 314

instruments 104

perceived characteristics of 47

intangibility 245, 272, 275

intense 222

interdisciplinarity 62, 63, 66, 77

necessity of 123

need for 27

research problems with 101-102

interference (codal) 102

internal consonance 169

internalised experiences 49

Internationale 115

interobjective comparison: See IOCM

interpretation 295, 300

interpretative music analysis 110-119

intersubjectivity 58, 59, 112

extent of method in this work 112

intersubjective comparison 112

musical ‘experts’ 114

intervallic relationship melody to tonic root 115

Inti Illimani 116

intonation 103, 108

Intonation Theory 62-64, 115

intradisciplinarity 287

intramusical 388

intraopus 388

introvert 245

intuition 357

hermeneutic 110-112

‘invisible’ music 86, 89, 97, 98, 127

IOC[M] (interobjective comparison [material]) 16, 112-114, 144-145, 388

relation to IMCs, PMCs 241, 242

The Ipcress File 157, 246

Ironside 89, 130, 247

Isaiah 273, 274, 390

isometre, asymmetrical 261

Italy 177

Item of Musical Code 16, 44, 50, 112, 117, 241-2, 250, 287-9, 291, 314, 333, 348, 388

relation to IOCM, PMFCs 241-2

See also Museme

 

J

Jackendoff, R 288, 291

Jahn, O 55

James Bond Theme 131, 199, 200

James, decapitation of St. 257

Jameson, J 153

Jansson, R 80

Japan 246

Jargy, S 51

Jarre, M 90

Jaubert, M 87

jaunty 156

jazz 37, 79, 98

big band 181

in film (music) 89, 158

standards 208, 306, 307, 334

title themes 96

Jazz Messengers 96

jazz-rock 220

jeans 218

Jeanson G 159

Jefferson Airplane 63

Jelinek, H 86

Jericho (battle of) 274

jerky 161, 182, 222, 230, 296, 297, 302, 309, 310, 311, 345

Jersild, M 31, 40

Jerusalem 41

Jesus: walking on the water 256

jig 208

Jigsaw 96

Jimmy Durante Show 198

jingles 95, 303

Job (book of) 247, 274, 390

Joel, Billy 96

Johannes-Passion 172, 173, 179

John, St.

Gospel according to 273, 274, 391

See also Revelation of St John

John and Andy 96

Jokela, M 88

Jolivet, A 225

Jones, L 77

Jones, Q 89, 96

Joplin, S 96, 97

Josefsson, G 18, 19, 145

journalism in popular music studies 78

Joyce, J 356

joyless 162

Judas Maccabeus 115

juddering 236

judgement 274, 275

judgement day 272

Julian, J 151

Julius Caesar 167, 172, 179, 220

jumping 160

Just One Look 33

justice 275, 285

K

Kabalevsky, D B 89

Kalmar, B 181

Kandinsky, W 54

Kaper, B 197, 198, 228

FBI (TV theme) 197

Karbušicky, V 73

Karelia Suite 96

Karlstad 27

Karshner, R 72, 77, 92, 128

Kauer, F 232

Kauffman, P 33

Kaye, Cl 151

Kazan, E 90

Keep Your Eye On The Sparrow 93, 154

Keese, P 83

Keil, C 37, 71

Keiler, A 291

Kellogg’s Pep Breakfast 196

Kempers, G 18

Kempers, M 18, 252

Kenton, S: Hank’s Opener (bass riff) 152

Kern, J 207

Kettlewell, D 18

key (musical) 115

Key, H W 84

Khan, Gengis 246

Khatchaturian, A 96

Khoi-San 272

Kind of Blue x 215

Kinderszenen 55

The King and I 247

King Arthur (Purcell) 179

King Crimson 216

King Kong 88, 254

The King of Denmark’s Galiard 44, 390

King, B B 64

King, B E 152

King, Carole 181, 216

I Feel The Earth Move (bass motif) 151

The King’s Hunt 189

King’s Row 87

Kingfish 216

Kingpin 216

Kings (book of) 273, 274, 390

Kinobibliothek 86, 157

Kircher, A 46, 52

Kissinger, H 285

Kjell, E 18

Kjellin, A 91

Kjellmer, G 20

eine kleine Nachtmusik 32, x 201

Kneif, T 57, 58, 59, 64, 78, 112

Knepler, G 57, 62, 113

Kodály, Z 41, 151, 212

KOIL Omaha 303

Komeda, K 89

Korak (Son of Tarzan) 257

Korngold, E W 87, 88, 207, 228, 234

Koury, R 195, 217

Gunsmoke (theme) 195

KPM Recorded Music Library 92

Kress, G 108

Kretzschmar, H 57-59, 64, 112, 289

Krokslätts Daghem 18

Kronberg, M 18, 19

Kroyer, T 55

Kubrick 96, 98

Kuhle Wampe 334

Kuhnau, J 47, 287

Kullervo 153

Kullervo goes to Battle (music) 194

Kullervo goes to Battle (picture) 194

Kullervo Symphony 193, 194

Kurth, E 59

Kvällsöppet 235

L

labour movement rousers 115

labyrinth 248, 251, 268, 274, 391

Lai, F 96, 162, 218, 234

Un homme et une femme (theme) 234

Laing, D 216

lambs 274, 391

Land of the Pharaohs 220

Lander, Bob 19, 144

landscape music 207

Lang, P H 45, 46, 47, 58

Langer, S 59, 60

la-pentatonicism: See Pentatonic

large space: See Open space

Läroplan för Grundskolan 26

Larsson, E-K 18

Larsson, T 72, 80

Larsson-Josefsson, A-M 18, 145

LaRue, J 55, 288

last trumpet, the 274

Latinos (USA) 219

Lauritzen, M 18

law enforcement 249

‘law of affect’ 49, 50

Lawrence of Arabia 90

Lazin’ Along 219

leading note

harmonic 229

triad of 44

leaves, rustling 173

Lebanon, Cedars of 273

Lee, E 77, 79

Leech, C 225

Leeds Music 19

Leeuwen, T van 108, 186, 222

legato 296

Legrand, M 90, 96, 218

Leipzig 58

Leningrad, Siege of 63

Lennon, J 19

Lerdahl, F 288, 291

Lesche, C 68, 75, 111

Lever du jour 166, 174

Lewis, G (and the Playboys) 173

Lewis, J L 208

Leyman, J 18, 144

Les liaisons dangereuses (1960) 96

liberation of the ego 53, 54

liberté, egalité, fraternité 54

Liberty Bell 155

library music 91-92, 188, 198

clichés 91

mood categories 92

Lied von der Erde 193, 200, 209

Life of Emile Zola 88

Lifebuoy Program 198

Ligeti, G 96

light: See Luminosity

light activity 169

light music 32, 64

lighting 103

Liljestam, L 18, 80

Lilla Kersti Stalledräng 216

Limbacher, J 86, 88, 90, 85, 96

limiting 105

Lindgren, G 18, 145

Lindsay, P H 289

Ling, J 18, 19, 51, 54, 63, 64, 67, 71, 73, 74, 80, 145

linguistics

application of models to music 291

relation to music semiotics 65, 66

Linke, N 78

Lissa, Z 85, 89, 217, 222, 288

functions of film music 85, 86

listening situation 143

Liszt, F 87, 193, 200, 205

Tasso, first theme (major variant) 193

literacy 30

literature

intrinsic difference from music 333

The Little House on the Prairie 131, 154, 155

Little Matching Red Record 63

Litynski, M 18, 20, 62

Live and Let Die 95, 96, 97

lively 314

Lloyd, A L 30, 31, 33, 37, 40, 115

location shots 285

lo-fi mixing: AM radio, TV 132

Loge (Ring) 226, 227

logotype

musical 95

name Kojak as 265

superpower names 265

Lohengrin 36

Lomax, A 41, 42

The Lone Ranger 96, 171, 198, 207

Loss, J 93

Loth to Depart 36

Lothar 246

loudness 105

love 179

Love For Rent 151

love motifs 199

Love Story 162

love story 130

Love Supreme 215

The Lowlands of Holland 216

The Lucy Show 155

Lukács, G 63

Luke (gospel according to) 266, 274, 390

Lully, J-B 189

luminosity 168, 169, 173, 176, 178-180, 182, 183, 222, 228, 245, 250, 251-2, 255, 258, 259, 260, 261, 266, 267, 271-5, 285, 318, 319, 321, 323, 326, 327, 329, 330, 331, 332, 343-5, 347, 349

and high pitch 173

in the Kojak frame 343

in the visual environment 343

lightness to darkness 261

Lundberg, C 80

Lupin, A 154

Lussi Lilla 216

luxury 219, 285

Lynyrd Skynyrd 218

lyrics: hypothetical substitution of 116

M

Mabey, R 25

Macahan, Zeb 196

MacCurdy, J T 48

machines 163, 203

MacPherson, C S 55

mad scene (Händel’s Orlando) 231

madrigals 52

Magdics, K 108

The Magnificent Seven 217, 247, 270

Mahavagga 272

Mahavishnu Orchestra 32, 216, 220

Mahler, G 86, 193, 198, 200, 209

Maigret (theme) 93, 128, 131, 154, 245

majestic 327, 331, 348

Major Mood Music Library 85, 92, 219

major ninth 183

male: See Masculine

Malle, L 96

Malm, K 27, 33

Malm, W P 51

Malmström, D 42

Malone, W C 42, 71, 77, 272

A Man For All Seasons 90

The Man from UNCLE 129

Man of Mystery 153

The Man with the Golden Arm 89, 158

Mancini, H 95, 217

Mandell, J 96, 98

Mander, M 77

Mandrake 246

Manfred Mann 216

Manhattan: See New York

Mann, A 125, 284, 352

Manvell et al. 95, 167, 172, 220

Maoris 272

march 156, 188

See also Funeral march, Martial

The March of Time 198

Marcia for post horn and orchestra 189

Marcus, G 63

The Marcus Nelson Murders 352

Maria Marten, Ballad of 30

marijuana 63

Mark, St. (Gospel according to) 256

Mark Trail (radio theme) 196, 205

marker of finality 308

market scene 169

marketing of Muzak 84

Maronn, E 78

Maróthy, J 115, 62, 186, 334, 349, 350

The Marriage of Figaro 183

La marseillaise 115

Martha and the Vandellas 153, 216

martial 205, 207, 209, 210, 222, 228, 251, 252, 254, 258, 296, 299, 302, 304, 308, 311

Martin y Coll, Fray Antonio 232

Marx, G 19

Marx, K 19

Marxism and musicology 62-64

masculine/masculinity/male/virile 210, 228, 247, 251, 258, 296, 299, 302, 304, 308, 311, 331

male individual 322, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 331, 332, 347, 348, 354

male-dominated areas of activity 222

virile/virility 87, 189, 190, 192, 198, 200, 210, 222, 226, 228, 247, 250-254, 258, 261, 263, 295, 296, 299, 308, 311, 332

masking pattern 257

rectangular 253

See also Sweep pattern

Masman, Rev Msgnr F J 83

mass distribution 34

mass media

storing parameters of musical expression 38

studying music in the 25-28

mass production 30, 31, 34, 53

Massenet, J 87

Mathis der Mahler 166, 179, 180, 183, 209, 214

Matthäus-Passion 165, 179

Mattheson, J 47, 52, 58

Matthew, St. (Gospel according to) 273, 274, 390

Maxwell-Davis, P 89

maze 248, 346

MCA 121, 123

McCaldin, D 19

McCartney, P 96

McCloud 130, 247

McDonald, C 206

McDougall’s flour, music for advert 90

McLaughlin, John 216, 220

McLuhan, M 289

meander patterns 248

mechanical 162, 170, 171

Med rötter i medeltiden 216

medals 246

Media Studies 101

Mekon, The 246

melancholic 162

Mélisande 162

Mellers, W 39, 45, 47, 51, 55, 65, 79, 213

melody 47, 104

contour 104, 115

disappearance of 261

Kojak ‘as’ melodic line 262

melodic 345

musematic analysis 185-210

relation to tonic root 316

relation to visual figure 255, 322

relation to underlying harmony 315

tonal relation to tonic root 336

phrases 107

generative analysis of 291-312

summary of meaning 311-312

pitch 318, 335

vocabulary 104, 300, 316, 335

melody/accompaniment dualism 150, 185-186, 222, 223, 239, 250, 252, 295, 297, 301, 302, 305, 310, 314, 315, 322, 349, 350

B section 237

paradigmatic model 223

visual/musical relationship 258, 262

relation to visual figure/ground 325-332

Meltzer, R 77

Memphis Soul Stew 152

Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, F 40, 208

Mendoza, D 87

Menotti, G C 89

‘mentality’ (researcher’s) 110-112

Menzel, H 78

mercenaries 246

Mercury Theatre of the Air 32, 96

mesomúsica 33

The Messiah 40, 113, 179, 180

metalanguage for music 66

Metamorphoses (Ovid) 246

metaphors 275

and music 298

use of in novels 307

method 83-120, 132-146

initial hypotheses 110-112

popular music analysis 51-81

practical application of 356-358

Methodist Church 36

Methodist Hymn Book 116

metre 104

5/8 metre 231

5/4 metre 229-234, 256, 261, 303, 305

metrication 294, 300

6/8 metre 232

10/8 metre 229-234, 256, 261, 303

metronome 314

metropolis/metropolitan: See Urban

Meyer, E H 62

Meyer, L B 48, 49, 50, 61, 62, 158, 288

Meyer, R 155, 197

mickey-mousing 89

Microkosmos 389

microphone 104

middle ages 220

MIDI 90, 91

Midnight Cowboy 90, 96

Midsommarvaka 96

Mike Andros: See Andros Targets

Miles Mood 215

Milhaud, D 88, 89

military 232

military music 188

milksop 207, 208

Mille, C B de 78, 265

Miller’s Dance 214

Millner, A 47

mimesis 46

minor

chords: See Harmony

key 113, 131

meaning of major and minor 113

ninths 163, 167

pentatonic 153

seconds 167

third, transposition up 257

Minotaur 246

mirroring 46

Miss Fine 216

Mississippi Power & Light Co. 84

mixing, lo-fi 132

mixolydian 196

mixolydian shuttle 195

Miyako 216

mnemonic identification (function of title music) 96-97, 127

MNW 64

modality 99, 195, 216

modern/modernity 98, 153, 154, 155, 156, 170, 181, 220, 221, 222, 228, 251, 252, 254, 263, 266, 315, 320, 354

Moles, A 288

monarchy 39

monasteries 39

Monk, T 96

mono sound on TV 132

monocentricity 350, 351, 352, 353

monody 105

Monteverdi, C 163, 179, 232

Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda 158

Montez, C 219

Monty Python’s Flying Circus 155

mood categories (library music) 92

Moog sequencer 158, 222, 301, 338

ostinato 158-180

pitch 171-178

moon, signs in 266

moonlight 87

Moonlight Serenade 207

Moon River 116

MoR 37

Mörén, A 19, 23

Morgan, A Suitable Case for Treatment (1966) 96

Mormons 270

morning 179, 324

Moross, J 217, 228

morpheme 107, 113

Morricone, E 90, 198, 217

Morse, D 71

Moser, H J 185

Moses 265

motion 103

continuous in sound 61

perception of 60

movement (part of musical work) 117, 118

motivation for choosing the Kojak theme 100-101

motor bike 98

Motown 153

mountains 272, 274, 391

film music 87

Movietone News 265

Mozart W A 32, 55, 96, 97, 98, 111, 113, 167, 183, 189, 201

Eine kleine Nachtmusik, K525 201

Symphony in G minor, K550 292-295

Mr District Attorney 207

Mühe, H 25, 27, 62, 78, 79, 185, 186, 222

Mülbauer, P 78

multidimensional scaling 76

multidirectional sweep-in 265

multi-tracking 105

mumble 173

München disco 235

‘munication’ 103

murder 99, 172, 179

murmur 87, 173

Murphy, D 18

museme(s) 50, 61

definition 106-108

inaudible 182

initial 292, 293, 294, 299, 300

melodic 185-210

permutations of 118-119, 299

meaning of 147-238

confusion of 112-114

confusion major and minor 113

stacks 15, 50

analysis of (model) 223

commutation of components in 109

definition 108-109

Kojak theme A section 222-228

Kojak theme B section 228-239

relation to IOCM, IMCs 241, 242

strings 15, 50

definition 109-110

significance of 117-119

table of 148-149

terminal 292, 293, 294, 299-303, 305, 308

music analysis: See Analysis

music and image: See Visual

disparity and congruity between processes 321-332

relation between 255, 258

symbiosis 98

music business: See Business

music education: See Education

music industry: See Business

music printing: See Printing

music semiotics: See Semiotics

Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta 89, 389

music hall 40

‘music of the masses’ 30

music to picture 124

Musica Enchiriadis 51

música populár 33

Musica pro Organa (Angerer) 214

musical code: See Semiotics

musical communication: See Communication

musical constants 314-315

musical ‘experts’ 114

musical form: See Form

musical hermeneutics: See Hermeneutics

musical literacy 31

musical nonsense (order of musemes) 299

musical phrases 117, 118

analysis of 291-312

correspondence with visual sequences 244

musical processes: See Processes

musical section 117, 118

Musical Suggestions (Dulay) 86

musical/rhetorical figures 47

musicology 101

‘autonomous’ aesthetics 54, 57, 59

ahistorical 53

archivism 53

conventional type as historical parenthesis 57

ethnocentricity 58

formalist in 20th century 59-62

historical traditions 51-59

marxism and 62-64

normative-generalising 53

popular music and 51-81

role in neuropsychological research 76

role of in study of mass media 26

twentieth century 59-70

unwilling to study popular music 78

Musikakademiens Bibliotek 19

musikalisch-rhetorische Figuren 46

Musikens Makt 64, 72, 265

musique populaire 33

Musique pour l’image 92

Mussolini, B 245

Mussorgsky, M 36, 200, 209, 212, 213, 214

Boris Godunov: Coronation 200

Darling Savishna 213

The Old Castle (Pictures at an Exhibition) 213

Musurgia universalis 46

mutes 104

Mutual Broadcasting Company 206

Muzak 26, 32, 72, 83-85, 219, 349

effects of 84

in hospitals 83

in schools 83

marketing 84

stimulus progression 84

US Army 84

Muzo, Mr 84

My Three Sons (theme) 93

mysterious/mystery 166, 179, 182, 245, 250, 258, 322, 324, 329, 331

mysticism 52, 391

myth(s)

Barthes and 65

of capitalism 72

Kojak titles as 262-268, 271-277

the mythical-heroic 187

mythification/mythologisation 352

N

Nå Skruva fiolen 30

Nacksving 64

Nalen (jazz club, Stockholm) 113

name

God’s 273

glorification of Kojak’s 273-275

Kojak 271, 273, 274, 278-281

Kojak as skyscrapers 264

Kojak from horizon in central perspective 266

magnification of 275

napalm 245

Narmour, E 288

narrative, Kojak series 127-132

national anthems 41, 115

Native Americans 220

Nattiez, J J 65, 66, 75, 114, 289

natural science method 74-75

Naylor, K N 19

Nelson, O 216

Nelsson-Tagg, M 19

neoclassicism 54, 213, 214, 215

‘Neo-Marxism’ 63

nervous(ness) 179, 228

Netherlands: polyphony 52

Das Neu-Eröffnete Orchestre 47, 58

neuropsychology 74-75, 289

Never on a Sunday 96

Le neveu de Rameau 52

‘New Left’ 63

The New Sa-Hoo 189

New York 84, 154, 226, 244, 245, 248, 249, 251, 252, 254, 256, 260, 262, 264, 284, 285, 318, 328, 331, 354

Battery 256

Bronx, Brooklyn 298

Liberty Island 256

Manhattan 187, 226, 251, 253, 260, 262, 264, 322, 329

New York Times Film Review 90

Newman, A 220, 228, 234

How The West Was Won (film theme) 196

Newman, E 55

news music: See under Urgency

Newsweek 72, 121, 125, 127, 247, 262

Nicene Creed 273

Niebelungen 225

Niedingen 224, 225

night 179, 256, 260, 262, 324

Night Mail 171

nightmare 167, 179

Nilsson, H 96

Nilsson, L 85

Nimmo, D 155

Noble, R 88

Les Noces 214

Nocturne (Ravel) 175

Nocturnes (Debussy) 179, 180

Fêtes 169

non-coincidence between parameters of musical and visual expression 348

‘non-musical noises’ 85

no-nonsense 284

‘non-referential’ aesthetics 45

non-semantic sounds 103

nonsensical order of musemes 299

noonday 179

Nordenstreng, K 75

Norlén, H 71, 90

Norman, D A 289

Norman, M 157, 200

James Bond Theme 131, 200

Norman, N 131

North America(n) 222, 227, 228, 251, 252, 323, 331, 354

North, A 198

nostalgia 71

notation

art music and 36, 39-41

folk music and 41-42

limitations of 144

popular music and 42-45

notational centricity 38-45, 59

notational literacy 31

problems in popular music 43-45

specific to tonal idiom 40

style specificity of 44

nouveau riche 219

novels, metaphors in 307

Now Voyager 87

Now We Are Six 216

Nowhere To Run 216

Le nozze di Teti e Pelso 189

Nylöf, G 71, 73

Nyström, A-S 18

O

O tysta ensamhet 80

object of dissertation 25

‘objective’ analysis

problems with 111-112

objective representation

problems of in dealing with music 333

objective v. subjective 289

obscurity 173, 250

octave numbering 389

octave portamento 145, 191-200. See also Whoop

octivider 104

octoechos 51

Odd Man Out 172

Oddjob 246, 270

Ode to Joy 115

Odo of Cluny 51

The Odyssey 272

Oedipus Rex 179, 214

offbeat (in bass) 151

Offenbach, J: B$13 in Lettre de Périchole 113

Official Detective x 205, 206

Ogden, C K 48

L’oiseau feu 161, 180

Oktober label 64

The Old Castle 213

The Old Man and the Sea 88

Old Testament 265, 271-277

Oliver, P 42, 77, 79

Olofsson, S 19

Olshausen, U 78

Olympic Games 115

Omaha 303

omnipotence 284, 391

omnipresence 275

OMUS 26

On Bredon Hill 155

Once In A While 207

The Onedin Line 96

One Eyed Jacks 198, 207

One More Saturday Night 44, 390

one, two, three, go! 201-203

Only You 77

On n’enterre pas le Dimanche 96

On The Open Prairie 155

On the Steppes of Central Asia 155

ontology of music 59

OOFS 135

oom-pah 156

open 321, 324, 326, 327, 329, 331, 332

open spaces 92, 155, 195, 200

Big Country 217

big sky atmosphere 92

big space 179

opening: See Initial

oral transmission 35, 41

orchestra: size and type in Kojak theme 123

organ 98

orientalism 220

Orlando (Händel) 231

ornamentation 41

Orrey, L 47, 287

orthogonality, lack of 260

Osgood, C E 75, 250, 332

Oskarshamn 27

Ossiach 75

‘oui’, compared with ‘we(e)’ 113

Out of Nowhere 207

The Over Forties 155

Over The Rainbow 199

overlap, musical/visual 263

overpowering 98

Overton, H 123

overture 94

overtures 93, 183

Overture to WIlliam Tell 202

Ovid 246

oxytonicism 115

Oyez! 93

P

Pacific 2-3-1 171

Pack, G 152

Packard, V 61

Padova 257

Page, M 19, 145, 191

pain 179

Palestrina 40, 52, 113, 167, 217

Palmer, R 33, 40

Palmer, T 25, 32, 42, 77

panning 44, 105, 186

pantomime 40

parades 188, 232

paradigmatic museme compound:

See Museme stack

paradigmatic v. syntagmatic 287, 289, 292

paralinguistics 103

parallel processes 318

parallelogram 259, 261, 262

parameters of expression 102-106

musical 31, 45, 56, 78, 314, 316, 104-106

checklist 104-106

storable in which media 38

relative importance in creating sense of solemnity and dignity 115-117

relevance to Mozart or electric blues 111

non-coincidence of 348

paramusical: checklist 102-104

processes in the Kojak theme 313-354

visual expression 317

paramusical 51, 52, 53, 55, 59, 61, 79, 89, 91, 97, 101, 115

checklist of parameters 102-104

correspondence with music 99

fields of connotation (PMFC) 15, 388

Les parapluies de Cherbourg 90

Paris Conservatory 90

parlando rubato 307

Parker, J C: Cannon (TV theme) 129

Parry, C H H 41

part-for-whole-reminder in recapitulation 307

passing time, directionality of 347

passion 179

Passion (Händel) 179

passive 260, 319, 331, 347

Kojak as 259, 263

voice v. active voice 305

pastoral landscape music 207

pathology of privacy 269

Patricia (1958) 116

patriotic songs 41

pattering 173, 180

Paul and Paula 208

Paulhan, F 48

Pawley, M 269, 350

The Pawnbroker 96

Payne, D 33

peace 155

Pearsall, R 40, 54

La peau douce 90

pedal point 155, 156

Peer, R 42

Pelleas & Melisande (Sibelius) 96, 162, 179, 183

Penderecki, K 89

pendulum movement 203-205

pendulum speeds 204

penis 247

penny ballads 40

Penny Lane 115

Le penseur (Rodin) 271

pentatonic(icism) 178, 195, 213

backbeat accentuations 152

minor in bass 151

minor 151-153, 212, 315

la-pentatonicism 212, 315

syncopated bass figures 152

Pentecostalism 80

Pepys, S 31

perception: See also Reception

centripetal/centrifugal patterns 349

rhythm in image and music 98

La perception de la musique (Francès) 75

Périchole 113

periodicity 104, 316, 318, 319, 320, 337, 344

periodic joins 151

permutation

musematic 348

of musemes 118-119, 299

perpetuum mobile 157, 158, 161, 169, 181

personality (Kojak’s) 250, 282-285

perspective, wide angle 253

pessimism 55

Peter (Saint) 39

Peter and the Wolf 187, 190, 199

Peterson, R A 39, 77

Pétrouchka 169, 170, 178, 179, 180, 214

Petrucci, O dei 39

phallic symbol 251

phasing 44, 104, 105

phenomenology 60

Philips (Eindhoven) 83

Funktionell Musik 84

philosophy 101

phoneme 108

phonogram: replaces sheet music 31

photography 103

photos of Kojak title sequences 146

phrasing 104, 295, 300, 314

phrenetic 161

Piano Concerto 2 (Bartók) 214, 389-390

Piano concerto in B$ minor (Tchaikovsky) 32

Pickett, W: Stagger Lee (bass riff) 151

pick-up point

from chronological to musical time 351

picture frame: See Frame

picture to music 124

Pictures at an Exhibition 36, 209, 213

Pieper, J 126

piercing 179

Pilate, Pontius 284

pillar of fire 266, 274

pilot film 285

Pink Floyd 32, 44, 96

The Pink Panther (title sequences) 95

Piston, W 187

pitch

ambitus 104

general rise in Kojak melody 258

high=bright, low=dark 173

idea 292, 295, 299, 300

melody 316

moog ostinato 171-178

non-standard 41

rise in harmonic 267

range 104, 296, 301, 310, 323

tremolandi 174-178

references 389

register 104

pizzeria music 85

pizzicato 104

plagiarism in TV music 89

plastic arts, intrinsic difference from music 333

Plato 51

Platters, The 77

Plattlangarna 64

Pleasance, D 246

Please to See the King 216

plectrum 104

plot formula 127

detective 129

PMC: See Museme stack

Poetics (Aristotle) 51

Poetry in Motion 33

point of transfer 353

between music and ’not music’ 351

Poland 130

police 157

sirens 211

Police Woman 130

Politics (Aristitle) 51

politics of music studies 25-28

polycentricity 350

polyphony 52, 105

Netherlands 52

polyrhythm in music for fighting 233, 237

Pontius Pilate 284

pop music

pop classics 32

pop music in film 96

popular music

Adorno on 64

analysis of

background and theory 51-81

conclusions of method discussion 80-81

examples 78-80

general problems 100-120

interpretative method 110-119

method, terms, procedure 106-120

sociology 73

theory and method 83-120

definition of 29-45

general characteristics of 36-38

genre typology of 32-45

historical position of 29-31

mediation of 70-81

musicology and 51-81

notation and 42-45

study of 25-28, 77-80

lack of musical discussion in 77, 78

summary of properties of 33-34

Popular Music (Cambridge University Press) 15

Popular Music of the Olden Time 41

popularity (musical) 30

Porcile, F 86, 87, 88, 89, 90

Porgy and Bess 172, 179, 233

pornography of violence 272

portamento 104

Porter, C 64, 207

positive 222

positivism 45, 74

post haste 189

post horn 188, 189, 192

Die Post (Schubert) 188, 189

Pote th kuriakh 96

potency, evaluation and activity 250

Pour le piano 213

P.O.V. (point of view) 285

from below 245, 246, 249, 267, 271, 275

from above 275, 273

poverty 285

power 246, 251, 261, 264, 265, 266, 271

Prado, P 116

pragmatic background to music analysis 58-59

precinct headquarters 285

premonition, 179

preparatory function 93, 94, 127, 130, 248

present time: See Time

Presley, E 208

Prez, J des 52

Price, V 196

‘primitive’ society 34

Princess d’Ékide 189

printing

as one-dimensional phenomenon 289

music printing 39, 40

La prise de Troie 162, 163, 168, 179, 180, 231

Pritchard, W P 214

private v. collective 269-270

problem solving

visual stylisation of 248-249

procedure

analytical 106-120

sound recording 132

processes

analysis of 313-354

centripetal and centrifugal 332-354

centripetal and monocentric 350

changing patterns of (main points) 318-321

congruity between musical and visual 322

disparity and congruity between musical and visual 321-332

from A into B section 237

interpretation of 313-354

rising pitch 237

rising rate of harmonic change 237

rising rhythmic density 237

rising tension 237

main points in 318-321

museme strings constituent parts of 117-119

simultaneity music/image 323-325

table of in Kojak theme 316-318

visual sequences 1-4 258

producers

and consumers 35

of Kojak 125

product identification through music 95

production

costs 121

Kojak 121

TV 127

professionals

art music 35

popular music 33

profile

Kojak’s 245, 249, 252, 268

portraits 246

profits 54

in TV programming 122

ProgramETT 244

programming for TV 121-122

progressive

music movement in Sweden 80

rock 32, 38

Prokofiev, S 88, 89, 96, 187, 190, 199, 228

Peter and the Wolf 187

Proletären 64

proletarian hymns 115

prolongation as accentuation 300

Propp, V 68

propulsion 222

propulsive repetition 201-203, 222, 293, 294, 296, 299, 300, 308, 309

Protestantism, eschatalogical 272

The Proud Ones (theme) 93

Psalms (book of) 248, 272, 273, 274, 390, 391

pseudo-differences of detective plots 130

pseudo-habanera 156

psychological term: affect 48-49

psychology 101

psychophysical measurement 75

publicity spots 122

Publik och programforskning 37

publishing (sheet music) 33, 39, 40, 42, 43

fall of 42

hegemony of 31

Puccini, G 87

pulse 104, 314

punch-ups 232

punk rock 113

Purcell, H 19, 179, 189

Frost scene from King Arthur 160

purgatory 274, 390

The Pusher 98

puzzle 248, 251, 268, 274, 391

Python, Monty: See Monty Python

Q

quartal harmony 105, 166, 169-170, 178, 181, 200, 211-221, 267, 307, 388, 389-390

Bartók 389-390

classical 212-215

definition 211-212

jazz and rock 215-216

Kojak theme 216-221

Queen of Sheba (Arrival of) 168

La querelle des bouffons 53

question mark 249, 251, 268, 346

quivering, quaking and shivering 160, 171, 180

R

Rabe, J 159

Rachmaninov, S 87

Rackarpel 216

radio 42

formats 37

relative broadcast time of genres 27

statistics of genres on 37

Rainbow Bridge 116

rain 173, 174, 180

Raining in My Heart 173

ram’s horn 274

Rameau, J-P 45

Rameau’s Nephew 52

Rander, T 25, 72, 77

random presentation of skyscraper frames 264

range: See Pitch range

Rap On Mr Writer 151

Rapée, E 200

Rapf, M 125

rationalism 52

in academe 357

Rauhe, H 78, 79

Ravel, M 165, 166, 174, 175, 176, 179, 180, 213

Daphnis et Chloë: Nocturne and Sunrise 175

Rawsthorne, A 89

Ray, Satyajit 98

ready, steady, go! See Propulsive repetition

realism 284, 285

film 89

in European soaps 91

visual notions of 289

visual degrees of 260

visual/relative 263

Rebel Without a Cause 90

Rebscher, G 79

recapitulation 263, 267, 273, 348, 349

abbreviation of initial material 306-307

reception

audience for Kojak theme 125-127

reception tests 75, 112, 114

methodological problems with 76-77

record business/industry: See Business (music)

recording 31, 35, 39, 40, 42, 43, 44, 45

blues, Country music (US) 42

blues, folk music 42

graphic (of e.g. folk music) 41

Kojak titles 132, 146

Peer, Lomax, Hammond 42

See also Sound treatment, Studio

rectangularity 248, 253, 261, 320

lack of 260

Red Clay 216

Red House 44

Red Mole 63

Red Ryder 198, 207

red tape, Kojak’s avoidance of 284

redundancy (musical) 288

referentialism/referentiality 52, 53, 54, 57, 59, 61, 62, 287

register: See Pitch 104

Reichert, J: Heroic Endeavour 198

reification 63

reiteration 348

contested, uncontested 165

relative autonomy: See Autonomy

relaxation (musical) 50

Release Yourself 151

religion 98. See also Bible, Myth

religious symbolism 266, 271-277

visual sequences 248

repeat until ready 297

repetition

propulsive: See Propulsive repetition

v. variation 302

reprise 348, 349

Republic (PolhV) 51

Repulsion 97

research

further 358

method problems 124, 125

Respighi, O 176, 177, 179, 228

Fontana di Trevi al meriggio 176

Pini preso una catacomba 177

respondents 75

responsorial passages 294

resurrection 274

Reti, R 55, 288

Return of the Jedi 89

reveille function (title music) 93, 94, 96, 97, 127, 130, 196, 198, 245

Revelation (of St John) 272, 273, 274, 390

reverb(eration) 44, 105, 144, 165, 168, 315, 323

‘revolutionary left’ 63, 64

revolver 256

Das Rheingold 226

Rhodes, John 169

rhythm (See also Metre)

harmonic: See Harmony

in advertising and titles 95

motifs 104

relative symmetry 229-234

texture 104

visual and musical 98

Rhythm Heritage 93, 218, 154

Rhythm of the Rain 173

Richard Diamond Private Eye 198, 207

riches 285

Riddarstolpe, E 72, 80

Ride of the Valkyrie 225

Rifkin, J 96

Rig Veda 39, 272

right top: eye catching position of 252

Righteous Brothers, The: You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling (bass filler) 152

RILM 78, 79

Rimsky-Korsakov, N 167, 186, 187, 200

Der Ring der Niebelungen 193, 194, 199

ring modulator 104

rippling 165, 180

rise to power 271

Rite of Spring 182, 230, 234

Ritter, T 88

river 87

River Deep, Mountain High 152

RKO 88

Road To Nowhere 216

Robertson, A 51

Robertson, J R 19

Robin Hood

character 87

film 207, 234

rock (stone) 272

as solid, stable 273, 275, 391

rock music

analysis of 77

clichés notated 43

drumming 98

in film 96

harmony 44

‘irrationality’ of 77

‘rock-is-revolution’ 63

The Rockford Files 130, 247

Röda Kapellet 116, 157

Rodgers, R 79

Rodin, R F A 271

Rödluvan 64

Rolander, J 73, 80

Rolling Stones, The 44, 63, 77, 96, 218, 249

Rollins, Sonny 96

Roman alphabet

unsuitable for Russian and Vietnamese 44

Roméo et Juliette (Berlioz) 159, 179

Romeo and Juliet 275

Rose, D 155

Rosengren, F 19, 145

Rosenman, L 90

Rossini, G 32, 96, 183, 202

Overture to William Tell 202

Rostock 58

Rota, N 90, 131, 162, 218

Royal Scot 171

Rózsa, M 167, 172, 179, 220, 228

Underscore from Julius Caesar 167, 172

Ruby, H 181

ruisellement 173

Rule Britannia 41

The Rumble 233

rumbling 164, 173

running 160, 257, 258, 271

Kojak towards camera 256

rural(ity) 99, 130

rural economy 30

rural-urban split in music 219

Russell, T 77

Russia

folk song 213

nationalist composers 212

rustling 173, 180

Ruwet, N 65, 289

S

Sachs, K 41, 188

Le sacre du printemps (Sacrificial Dance) 230

sadness 179

The Saint

radio theme 196

TV show 245

St. John, St. Matthew etc. See John, Matthew etc.

St. Petersburg 88, 169

Saint-Saëns, C 88

sales: See Business

salpinx 274

saltus duriusculus 46

Salzer, F 105, 288

Sam Fox Moving Picture Music 86

Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs 33

Samba Gon’ Gether 216

SAM-distribution 64

Samla Mammas Manna 80

Samson 247

Samudio, D 33

Samuel (book of) 274, 390, 391

SÄMUS 115, 27, 8