Ut, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La by Peter Philips
As some of you know, the origin of the solfege syllables is to be found in Guido d'Arezzo's observation (ca. 1200) that the first note of each of the six phrases of the chant 'Ut queant laxis' (a hymn in honor of St. John the Baptist) is a step higher than the first note of the previous phrase.
Guido developed a system we now call solmization based upon this observation.
The first syllables of each phrase--ut-re-mi-fa-sol-la--were used as mnemonics for the notes in the chant.
See the attachment 'Hymn-Ut queant laxis' to get a clear idea of this.
In Guido's teaching system, the mnemonic association of each tone with its unique syllable helped students of the time (as of ours) to 'pre-hear' each note as they sight-read a piece of music.
The entire six-note scale was referred to as the 'gamma ut', from the letter name of the first note (G='gamma' in Greek, the language of music theory at the time) plus its solmization syllable ('ut'). 'Gamma ut' was eventually elided to 'gamut', a word which now of course has various meanings in addition to its musical signification of an entire scale.
How did 'ut' become 'do', you ask? Well, the 17th-century composer and theorist Giovanni Battist Doni made that change because 'ut' was the only syllable beginning with a vowel; and also supposedly because he felt that 'do'
was more open and singable.
And you ask further, perhaps: 'Where, oh where is 'ti' in all this?' Hmmm...well...it's complicated. Let me just say that the original conception of the scale did not privilege the octave. Scales had six notes; when you wanted expand a given song above or below the one you were using, you had to mutate, that is, transpose the six-note scale up or down as needed.
The need for a note 'ti' (originally called 'si', by the way) originated later with the development of the octave-based scales
we use today.
Finally, you ask, head throbbing: 'What the heck does all this have to do with today's madrigal?' Ah, I was just yearning for you to ask that question. In 1596, the English composer Peter Philips published 'Il primo libro dei madrigali a 6 voci', in Antwerp. This wonderful book of Italian madrigals by the cosmopolitan Philips featured luxuriously-scored madrigals based upon texts by many of the best-known Italian poets, including 'Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la', by Angelo Grillo (1557-1629), who published under the pen-name Livio Celiano.
Celiano's protagonist draws a parallel between the musical scale, out of which comes all musical sweetness, and his lover, in whose face he descries all beauty. Not only does the poem include this touching conceit, but it also includes the scale (the gamut!) in both ascending and descending forms, the latter representing an enthusiastic choir of henchpeople called upon to sing the lady's praises. Naturally, Peter Philips has a field day with this.
I'm attaching the score and Cinzia's pronunciation recording, along with two recordings: Circa 1600's performance from our May, 2017 production 'On the Power of Music'; and a lovely instrumental performance from a collection of Philips' madrigals and motets by Cappella Mediterranea.
I hope that you enjoy these recordings, and that some of you take on the challenge (and joy!) of singing your part with them. I also hope that your day runs the gamut from great to wonderful to optimal to supreme.
As some of you know, the origin of the solfege syllables is to be found in Guido d'Arezzo's observation (ca. 1200) that the first note of each of the six phrases of the chant 'Ut queant laxis' (a hymn in honor of St. John the Baptist) is a step higher than the first note of the previous phrase.
Guido developed a system we now call solmization based upon this observation.
The first syllables of each phrase--ut-re-mi-fa-sol-la--were used as mnemonics for the notes in the chant.
See the attachment 'Hymn-Ut queant laxis' to get a clear idea of this.
In Guido's teaching system, the mnemonic association of each tone with its unique syllable helped students of the time (as of ours) to 'pre-hear' each note as they sight-read a piece of music.
The entire six-note scale was referred to as the 'gamma ut', from the letter name of the first note (G='gamma' in Greek, the language of music theory at the time) plus its solmization syllable ('ut'). 'Gamma ut' was eventually elided to 'gamut', a word which now of course has various meanings in addition to its musical signification of an entire scale.
How did 'ut' become 'do', you ask? Well, the 17th-century composer and theorist Giovanni Battist Doni made that change because 'ut' was the only syllable beginning with a vowel; and also supposedly because he felt that 'do'
was more open and singable.
And you ask further, perhaps: 'Where, oh where is 'ti' in all this?' Hmmm...well...it's complicated. Let me just say that the original conception of the scale did not privilege the octave. Scales had six notes; when you wanted expand a given song above or below the one you were using, you had to mutate, that is, transpose the six-note scale up or down as needed.
The need for a note 'ti' (originally called 'si', by the way) originated later with the development of the octave-based scales
we use today.
Finally, you ask, head throbbing: 'What the heck does all this have to do with today's madrigal?' Ah, I was just yearning for you to ask that question. In 1596, the English composer Peter Philips published 'Il primo libro dei madrigali a 6 voci', in Antwerp. This wonderful book of Italian madrigals by the cosmopolitan Philips featured luxuriously-scored madrigals based upon texts by many of the best-known Italian poets, including 'Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la', by Angelo Grillo (1557-1629), who published under the pen-name Livio Celiano.
Celiano's protagonist draws a parallel between the musical scale, out of which comes all musical sweetness, and his lover, in whose face he descries all beauty. Not only does the poem include this touching conceit, but it also includes the scale (the gamut!) in both ascending and descending forms, the latter representing an enthusiastic choir of henchpeople called upon to sing the lady's praises. Naturally, Peter Philips has a field day with this.
I'm attaching the score and Cinzia's pronunciation recording, along with two recordings: Circa 1600's performance from our May, 2017 production 'On the Power of Music'; and a lovely instrumental performance from a collection of Philips' madrigals and motets by Cappella Mediterranea.
I hope that you enjoy these recordings, and that some of you take on the challenge (and joy!) of singing your part with them. I also hope that your day runs the gamut from great to wonderful to optimal to supreme.