The Lament and Women's Expressive Techniques from Early Music to Today
What did Medieval vocal music sound like?
When we think of Medieval music, the first things that comes to mind are probably chants and sacred motets, and for good reason. The Catholic church was a powerhouse of musical activity. Religious people had access to education (musical and otherwise) and materials to keep record of the music that they incorporated into their everyday rituals. The descriptions we have about singers and singing are from this sacred, Western musical world. Isidore of Seville grew up in the church and wrote extensively on music in his book, Etymologies. He describes the ideal Medieval voice:
"Sweet voices are fine, full, clear, and high. Penetrating voices are those which can hold a note an unusually long time, in such a way that they continuously fill the entire area, like the sound of trumpets. A thin voice is one lacking in breath, as the voice of children or women or the sick. This is similar to strings, for the finest strings emit subtle, thin sounds.
In thick voices, as those of men, much breath is emitted at once, A sharp voice is high and thin, as we see in strings. A hard voice is one which emits sound violently, like thunder, or like the sound of an anvil whenever the hammer is struck against the hard iron. A harsh voice is a hoarse one, which is broken up by minute, dissimilar impulses. A blind voice is one which is choked off as soon as produced, and once silent cannot be prolonged, as is the case with crockery when struck.
A pretty (vinnola) voice is soft and flexible; it is so called from vinnus, a softly curling lock of hair. The perfect voice is high, sweet, and clear: high, to be adequate to the sublime; clear, to fill the ear; sweet, to soothe the minds of the hearers. If any one of these qualities is absent, the voice is not perfect."[1]
Notice how his description praises manliness and simplicity.
Here is another description of how sacred singers of the Middle Ages should sound. Summa musice, a Medieval treatise from around 1200, gives proper instructions and background to singing sacred chant:
"[Human music] will teach us to measure sounds with a judicious mind, and it adds words; no such thing is fitting to birds for they are taught to sing by Nature; they have no power of reason, whatever the sounds they sing. Thus the nightingale sings, thus the lark, the cock, the swallow and many others that I do not name but which may nonetheless be said to sing from the depths of their heart. Human [music] is more worthy than these because if accomplishes more; it teaches song with words and Reason is involved in that. He who sings badly does not care to follow Reason . . . [He who sings well] puts the organic register aside and discards the enharmonic; one is too dark and the other tears at the throat. Between these two there is gravis, acutus and peracutus, and it is this kind of music that fittingly follows its own modes (tonos). It is therefore deservedly called ‘diatonic’; correctly performed it can be pleasing to all."[2]
"Sweet voices are fine, full, clear, and high. Penetrating voices are those which can hold a note an unusually long time, in such a way that they continuously fill the entire area, like the sound of trumpets. A thin voice is one lacking in breath, as the voice of children or women or the sick. This is similar to strings, for the finest strings emit subtle, thin sounds.
In thick voices, as those of men, much breath is emitted at once, A sharp voice is high and thin, as we see in strings. A hard voice is one which emits sound violently, like thunder, or like the sound of an anvil whenever the hammer is struck against the hard iron. A harsh voice is a hoarse one, which is broken up by minute, dissimilar impulses. A blind voice is one which is choked off as soon as produced, and once silent cannot be prolonged, as is the case with crockery when struck.
A pretty (vinnola) voice is soft and flexible; it is so called from vinnus, a softly curling lock of hair. The perfect voice is high, sweet, and clear: high, to be adequate to the sublime; clear, to fill the ear; sweet, to soothe the minds of the hearers. If any one of these qualities is absent, the voice is not perfect."[1]
Notice how his description praises manliness and simplicity.
Here is another description of how sacred singers of the Middle Ages should sound. Summa musice, a Medieval treatise from around 1200, gives proper instructions and background to singing sacred chant:
"[Human music] will teach us to measure sounds with a judicious mind, and it adds words; no such thing is fitting to birds for they are taught to sing by Nature; they have no power of reason, whatever the sounds they sing. Thus the nightingale sings, thus the lark, the cock, the swallow and many others that I do not name but which may nonetheless be said to sing from the depths of their heart. Human [music] is more worthy than these because if accomplishes more; it teaches song with words and Reason is involved in that. He who sings badly does not care to follow Reason . . . [He who sings well] puts the organic register aside and discards the enharmonic; one is too dark and the other tears at the throat. Between these two there is gravis, acutus and peracutus, and it is this kind of music that fittingly follows its own modes (tonos). It is therefore deservedly called ‘diatonic’; correctly performed it can be pleasing to all."[2]
In this excerpt, music that is performed with “reason” is superior. They also prefer the vocalist to sing in the middle of their register.
The people writing about music in the Middle Ages also remarked on how singers should not sing. The author of Instituta patrum berates singers that do not follow the model of sweet singing. In The Cambridge Companion to Singing, Joseph Dyer explains:
"[I]ts author became quite exercised about certain kinds of vocalism that represented to him the abomination of qualities that should be cultivated by singers of sacred music. Some of these are basic flaws of vocal technique, but others are caricatures of the sounds he might have heard emanating from the throats of secular musicians. The author lumps together theatrical singing and chattering, ‘mountain’ (Alpine) voices, loud singing, hissing [lisping?], braying like a she-ass, growling or moaning like cattle, or (apparently worst of all!) singing with an effeminate voice."[3]
The people writing about music in the Middle Ages also remarked on how singers should not sing. The author of Instituta patrum berates singers that do not follow the model of sweet singing. In The Cambridge Companion to Singing, Joseph Dyer explains:
"[I]ts author became quite exercised about certain kinds of vocalism that represented to him the abomination of qualities that should be cultivated by singers of sacred music. Some of these are basic flaws of vocal technique, but others are caricatures of the sounds he might have heard emanating from the throats of secular musicians. The author lumps together theatrical singing and chattering, ‘mountain’ (Alpine) voices, loud singing, hissing [lisping?], braying like a she-ass, growling or moaning like cattle, or (apparently worst of all!) singing with an effeminate voice."[3]
This description is interesting for a couple of reasons. First, as Dyer mentions, the author may have been alluding to secular singing styles when describing the flaws of singers. If the church was trying to separate their music from vernacular songs and dances, we could come to the conclusion that they would mockingly write about vocal tones that were not of the learned, sweet, sanctified style.
Did people use sounds other than singing in their songs (what we would now consider extended techniques)?
While extended vocal techniques emerged in the twentieth century alongside extended instrumental techniques, many of them are natural vocalizations that people make on a day-to-day basis. For example, Sprechstimme (vocalizing between singing and speaking), coughing, sneezing, whispering, glissando (sliding between pitches), humming and using other nonsensical syllables, sighing, and inhaling are expressions that non-singers regularly use. These techniques were not actually developed like those for instruments; rather, they are incorporations of natural human sounds into written music. These natural vocalizations may have been a part of Medieval (and Ancient) vocal music. Timothy McGee claims that the vocal techniques of the Middle Ages were not the same as what we consider traditional vocal style:
"The technique involves the ability to sing with a clear (vibratoless) voice, rapid throat articulation and pulsation, slow, fast, and accelerating vibrato at variable intervals, and voice placement that alternates between a bright sound made in the front of the mouth and a dark tone from the throat. The sounds include fixed and sliding tones, diatonic and non-diatonic pitches, aspirated, gargled, and sibilant sounds, and both clear and covered tone qualities."[4]
Since there is no way of knowing for sure how music was performed in the Middle Ages, scholars such as McGee hypothesize about how singers performed. While we know that sacred music was intended to sound “sweet,” “clear,” and manly, the secular musicians could have been using the techniques that the author of Instituta patrum hated.
Perhaps “theatrical singing” could have been Sprechstimme, as actors often have a musical expression as they work. Could it have sounded something like this? (See Arnold Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, No. 8 below.)
"The technique involves the ability to sing with a clear (vibratoless) voice, rapid throat articulation and pulsation, slow, fast, and accelerating vibrato at variable intervals, and voice placement that alternates between a bright sound made in the front of the mouth and a dark tone from the throat. The sounds include fixed and sliding tones, diatonic and non-diatonic pitches, aspirated, gargled, and sibilant sounds, and both clear and covered tone qualities."[4]
Since there is no way of knowing for sure how music was performed in the Middle Ages, scholars such as McGee hypothesize about how singers performed. While we know that sacred music was intended to sound “sweet,” “clear,” and manly, the secular musicians could have been using the techniques that the author of Instituta patrum hated.
Perhaps “theatrical singing” could have been Sprechstimme, as actors often have a musical expression as they work. Could it have sounded something like this? (See Arnold Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, No. 8 below.)
“Chattering” may have been some sort of wavering, like a vocal trill or tremolo like in Nina Burmi sings Thumri.
“Mountain” voices may be in reference to yodeling, as this was an Alpine folk tradition way of singing. Listen to Jewel's example.
Was “hissing” a whisper-like timbre like this example by St. Vincent?
Who knows what “braying like a she-ass” was describing? Possibly vocal fry? (Listen to the beginning of Jim Mobberley's Vox Inhumana.)
Was “growling” perhaps a version of the tone used in some jazz vocal music as in Ella Fitzgerald's "How High is the Moon," or heavy metal growls as demonstrated by Melissa Cross?
“Moaning like cattle” could have perhaps been any sort of sliding between pitches. Was it like the scooping in Nina Simone's "Feeling Good" or full glissandos as heard in Patti LaBelle's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"?
What was the problem with the female voice?
Which brings us to the second interesting part of the Instituta patrum, the “effeminate voice.” While nuns of the Middle Ages were allowed to sing in their convents, the majority of sacred Medieval music was performed by men and boys in churches and monasteries. Writings and treatises on music assumed a male singer and warned against effeminate singing. There is no question that sexism was rampant in the Middle Ages, especially in the church, but why, in particular, were they concerned about women in regard to music? Were there examples of women’s songs that they had problems with?
Interestingly enough, there is one genre in particular that the church had problems with that had primarily female performers: the lament. Laments are ritualized songs that are performed for ceremonies of transition; they are for funerals, weddings, or sending off men to war. Although they are improvisatory, they are highly structured. They often have a descending line and include vocal techniques such as “sobbing, voiced inhalation, slow vibration of the vocal chords and falsetto,” as well as vocalizations between speech and song.[5] Not only is the lament traditionally performed by a woman, either a relative of the deceased or a professional lamentatrix, in European cultures, it is also typically a woman’s genre throughout the world: all over Asia, in the Middle East, Africa, and in the Indigenous Americas. Here are some examples that may be rooted in oral lament traditions.
Interestingly enough, there is one genre in particular that the church had problems with that had primarily female performers: the lament. Laments are ritualized songs that are performed for ceremonies of transition; they are for funerals, weddings, or sending off men to war. Although they are improvisatory, they are highly structured. They often have a descending line and include vocal techniques such as “sobbing, voiced inhalation, slow vibration of the vocal chords and falsetto,” as well as vocalizations between speech and song.[5] Not only is the lament traditionally performed by a woman, either a relative of the deceased or a professional lamentatrix, in European cultures, it is also typically a woman’s genre throughout the world: all over Asia, in the Middle East, Africa, and in the Indigenous Americas. Here are some examples that may be rooted in oral lament traditions.
While there are examples of liturgical laments that express Mary’s loss of her son (mostly after 1200), vernacular laments have a very long history.[6] “From the earliest days of Christianity, churchmen railed against the standard practice of elaborate mourning at funerals, hoping to make the Christian funeral a distinctive, un-pagan event. Only rejoicing at the prospect of eternal life was encouraged.”[7] This powerful female tradition rooted in paganism was an intense threat to Christianity, and the church was never successful in getting rid of the lament.[8] While most Medieval people could not afford to have a Christian burial, pagan burial traditions remained.[9] Just as people of the Middle Ages were upset about losing their old chant traditions during Charlemagne’s standardization, we can imagine that the pagans and newly converted Christians were not keen on throwing out their lament traditions..
Therefore, perhaps the author of Instituta patrum was not instructing against an effeminate tone, but rather to guard against anything relating to this highly expressive female-dominant genre. As we can see, the treatises of the time favored a pleasant, simple, clear voice oppose to the ‘wailing,’ improvisatory, expressive voice of the wife/mother/daughter or lamantatrix and her strong opposition to the church.[10] Unfortunately, as this tradition is not documented as early church music was, it is not often studied or learned about when examining Medieval music. However, because musicology of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has begun to question the white-male oriented canon, it is starting to emerge. The music of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has also changed. As we have seen in the videos, highly expressive vocal techniques are making their way back into music and have become common in art music of our time.
Therefore, perhaps the author of Instituta patrum was not instructing against an effeminate tone, but rather to guard against anything relating to this highly expressive female-dominant genre. As we can see, the treatises of the time favored a pleasant, simple, clear voice oppose to the ‘wailing,’ improvisatory, expressive voice of the wife/mother/daughter or lamantatrix and her strong opposition to the church.[10] Unfortunately, as this tradition is not documented as early church music was, it is not often studied or learned about when examining Medieval music. However, because musicology of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has begun to question the white-male oriented canon, it is starting to emerge. The music of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has also changed. As we have seen in the videos, highly expressive vocal techniques are making their way back into music and have become common in art music of our time.
Does 20th/21st century art music with extended vocal techniques relate to the Medieval lament tradition?
Sequenza III and Aria
There are a number of pieces from the latter half of the twentieth century that are well-known for their use of extended vocal techniques. Two of the most frequently performed and studied include Luciano Berio’s Sequenza III (1965) and John Cage’s Aria (1958).
There are a number of pieces from the latter half of the twentieth century that are well-known for their use of extended vocal techniques. Two of the most frequently performed and studied include Luciano Berio’s Sequenza III (1965) and John Cage’s Aria (1958).
In his collections of essays examining vocal works, Alternative Voices, the Hungarian-Canadian composer Istvan Anhalt describes Sequenza III as a “portrait” of a woman. The woman
"goes through a series of puzzling and disturbing vocal behaviors, making us wonder why she expresses herself in this manner and what she wants to convey to us. . . . Her changes of mood occur erratically and, at times, rapidly. We have no clues as to the psychic triggers that set off her vocal actions, and she seems to relate to no outside trigger at all. . . . As contrast follows contrast in her delivery we wonder what is taking place in her mind. .What are the sources of her anxiety? Whom is she fighting? From whom is she fleeing?[11]
Both this piece and Cage’s Aria have an erratic quality, in which the character may be perceived as unstable. Anhalt notes that Berio’s piece shows a woman with “a syndrome of psychic ailments that contains elements of schizophrenia.”[12] But perhaps this is another snapshot through the lens of a male-chauvinist way of thinking?
Wilson-Bokowiec also describes Berio’s piece as showing the audience a representation of a person, however it does not have sexist undertones, and Berio himself says, “in it I tried to assimilate many aspects of everyday vocal life, including trivial things like coughing, without losing intermediate levels –laughter becoming coloraturea virtuosity for instance – or indeed normal singing.”[13] As we see from the composer’s own words, Berio had no intention of calling her crazy. In Margot Glassett Murdoch’s PhD dissertation, she explains how Berio’s perceivably erratic changes were intentional and part of an underlying compositional structure.[14] Therefore, we must not assume that the changes were meant to show the mental state of Berio’s character. Instead, both Berio and Cage attempted to show off what the voice was capable of. Rather than expressing a deeper meaning or highlighting the meaning behind the text (both of which appear to be random words and sounds), the pieces are etudes that show off a wide range of vocal techniques.
So, despite their popularity, they do not really stem from the vocal traditions of the lament tradition discussed above. Instead of looking at pieces known for their extended techniques, it may be more useful to look at pieces that are purposefully expressive with supportive subtle extended techniques.
"goes through a series of puzzling and disturbing vocal behaviors, making us wonder why she expresses herself in this manner and what she wants to convey to us. . . . Her changes of mood occur erratically and, at times, rapidly. We have no clues as to the psychic triggers that set off her vocal actions, and she seems to relate to no outside trigger at all. . . . As contrast follows contrast in her delivery we wonder what is taking place in her mind. .What are the sources of her anxiety? Whom is she fighting? From whom is she fleeing?[11]
Both this piece and Cage’s Aria have an erratic quality, in which the character may be perceived as unstable. Anhalt notes that Berio’s piece shows a woman with “a syndrome of psychic ailments that contains elements of schizophrenia.”[12] But perhaps this is another snapshot through the lens of a male-chauvinist way of thinking?
Wilson-Bokowiec also describes Berio’s piece as showing the audience a representation of a person, however it does not have sexist undertones, and Berio himself says, “in it I tried to assimilate many aspects of everyday vocal life, including trivial things like coughing, without losing intermediate levels –laughter becoming coloraturea virtuosity for instance – or indeed normal singing.”[13] As we see from the composer’s own words, Berio had no intention of calling her crazy. In Margot Glassett Murdoch’s PhD dissertation, she explains how Berio’s perceivably erratic changes were intentional and part of an underlying compositional structure.[14] Therefore, we must not assume that the changes were meant to show the mental state of Berio’s character. Instead, both Berio and Cage attempted to show off what the voice was capable of. Rather than expressing a deeper meaning or highlighting the meaning behind the text (both of which appear to be random words and sounds), the pieces are etudes that show off a wide range of vocal techniques.
So, despite their popularity, they do not really stem from the vocal traditions of the lament tradition discussed above. Instead of looking at pieces known for their extended techniques, it may be more useful to look at pieces that are purposefully expressive with supportive subtle extended techniques.
L’Amour de loin
Kaija Saariaho has become known for her highly expressive works that often include extended techniques and electronics. Her opera L’Amour de loin (2000) received significant publicity in 2016 when it became the first opera written by a woman to be performed by the Metropolitan Opera in over one hundred years. While the extended techniques are not at the forefront as they are in Aria and Sequenza III, the work is directly influenced by Medieval music and has an entire plot of emotional material to support the vocal techniques. Pirkko Moisala describes it in Saariaho’s biography, “New sound qualities never appear in Saariaho’s works just for novelty’s sake or a peculiar effect.”[15]
Kaija Saariaho has become known for her highly expressive works that often include extended techniques and electronics. Her opera L’Amour de loin (2000) received significant publicity in 2016 when it became the first opera written by a woman to be performed by the Metropolitan Opera in over one hundred years. While the extended techniques are not at the forefront as they are in Aria and Sequenza III, the work is directly influenced by Medieval music and has an entire plot of emotional material to support the vocal techniques. Pirkko Moisala describes it in Saariaho’s biography, “New sound qualities never appear in Saariaho’s works just for novelty’s sake or a peculiar effect.”[15]
L’Amour de loin is based on the story of the troubadour, Jaufré Rudel. He sings about a woman who is far away whom he has never met but loves. The messenger, Pilgrim, tells the woman, Countess of Tripoli Clémence, of the troubadour and his songs for her. When Jaufré finds out that she now knows of his existence, he decides to travel to her. However, he becomes ill on his journey and dies in Clémence’s arms. Moisala declares that the music is reminiscent of the Orient and music of the Middle Ages “without compromising Saariaho’s idiom.”[16] She claims that the direct influences are few and far between and are “most obvious in the sonoric qualities created by perfect fifths and fourths played on the harps and in the melody sung by the baritone, which is slightly influenced by the fragmental original notation of Languan li jorn, a stanza by Jaufré Rudel.”[17] The word “loing,” in lines two and four is often linked to the word “amor,” which is the theme of the entire song.[18] This is also the theme of Saariaho’s entire opera.
Unlike the troubadour songs, we do not have specific examples from the laments of the Middle Ages, but the descriptions of laments could also be used to describe some of the music found in Saariaho’s opera, in particular, “Jamais d’amour je ne jouirai” from Act II, scene 2 and “J’espère encore” from Act V, scene 3.
The pilgrim sings “Jamais d’amour je ne jouirai” (“Never shall I know love”), as (s)he relays Jaufré’s music to Clémence. This music is found throughout, and although it is inspired by the troubadour tradition; it also acts as a foreboding lament that foreshadows the tragic ending.
The pilgrim sings “Jamais d’amour je ne jouirai” (“Never shall I know love”), as (s)he relays Jaufré’s music to Clémence. This music is found throughout, and although it is inspired by the troubadour tradition; it also acts as a foreboding lament that foreshadows the tragic ending.
There are several things in this excerpt that are consistent with the lament tradition. One is the small range. The pilgrim’s vocal part only encompasses one octave but the tessitura falls within a fifth. Laments often have a “narrow melodic range of a 5th or less, although some, beginning in a high or middle register, descend as much as an octave or more.”[19] Another includes the motive of a falling fourth. Western laments often use a variation of this motive to express grief. Here we can hear it on “jouirai” and “ne connais” at 0:14 and 0:44 respectively. Finally, Saariaho uses ornamentations and techniques to show expression. Sixteenth-note triplets and quintuplets, grace notes, trills, glissandos, and diminuendo al niente are written in the vocal line; the effect is perceived as sighing, sobbing, or loosing breath. The passage is labeled “sempre molto espressivo, passionate, dolce.”[20]
These elements may seem to fit in more closely to the baroque style; to me it seems reminiscent of Barbara Strozzi’s Lagrime mie, but perhaps Strozzi as a female composer seeking to move the affections, used elements of the lament tradition that had been passed down from Medieval times.
In the next example, “J’espère encore” (“Still I hope”), expression is used in both similar and different ways. This is Clémence’s lament. She is crying out to God wondering why he is cruel enough to allow Jaufré to die. Just as in the other example, glissandos are used regularly as well as diminuendo al niente. However, the range is expanded. At 1:28 she sings a B-flat5 that falls to a Sprechstimme D4.
http://umkc.naxosmusiclibrary.com.proxy.library.umkc.edu/stream.asp?s=51974%2Fumkcnml13%2Fqz2870%5F028
Later at 0:45 (in the following example), “J’avais cru en toi” (“I had faith in you”), the range extends from a G5 to a C-sharp4 in four short measures. Just as before, the glissando leads directly into a Sprechstimme “mon Dieu” (“my God”). This figure acts as a repeating motive throughout the scene.
http://umkc.naxosmusiclibrary.com.proxy.library.umkc.edu/stream.asp?s=51974%2Fumkcnml13%2Fqz2870%5F029
http://umkc.naxosmusiclibrary.com.proxy.library.umkc.edu/stream.asp?s=51974%2Fumkcnml13%2Fqz2870%5F028
Later at 0:45 (in the following example), “J’avais cru en toi” (“I had faith in you”), the range extends from a G5 to a C-sharp4 in four short measures. Just as before, the glissando leads directly into a Sprechstimme “mon Dieu” (“my God”). This figure acts as a repeating motive throughout the scene.
http://umkc.naxosmusiclibrary.com.proxy.library.umkc.edu/stream.asp?s=51974%2Fumkcnml13%2Fqz2870%5F029
Here the expanded range and glissando that encompasses a minor seventh to a change in vocal technique shows another side of the emotions that may have been a part of the lament tradition—anger. The section is labeled “Con forza, furioso” with trills and tremolos in the orchestra. To me it sounds like the “wailing” of a traditional lament.
Is this an evolution of the woman's lament genre?
While these vocal techniques are subtle in comparison to Berio’s Sequenza III or Cage’s Aria, Saariaho uses them in a way that would have been closer to the vocal techniques of the Middle Ages lament tradition. They are used as an expression of grief. While it is possible that Saariaho borrowed these elements from Medieval music, as we know it was part of her research on developing the opera as a whole, it is also possible that she was innately drawn to these techniques as a way to bring out the emotion necessary for the opera to be a success, just as the lamentatrix would have used her innate vocal expressions as a way to express sorrow.
Notes
[1] Isidore of Seville, “From the Etymologies, Book Three,” in Source Readings in Music History, edited by Oliver Strunk and Leo Treitler (New York: W. W. Norton, 1998), 152.
[2] Christopher Page, ed. And trans., The Summa Musice: A Thirteenth-Century Manuel for Singers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 65, lines 489-507.
[3] Joseph Dyer, “The Voice in the Middle Ages,” in The Cambridge Companion to Singing, John Potter, ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 171.
[4] Timothy J. McGee, The Sound of Medieval Song: Ornamentation and Vocal Style according to the Treatises (New York: Oxford, 1998), 119-20.
[5] James Porter, “Lament,” in Grove Music Online (Oxford University Press, 2001-), accessed October 3, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.proxy.library.umkc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/15902
[6] John Haines, Medieval Song in Romance Languages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 35.
[7] Ibid, 42.
[8] Ibid, 43.
[9] Ibid, 41.
[10] ‘Wailing’ is a term commonly used to describe the sound of the lament.
[11] Istvan Anhalt, Alternative Voices: Essays on Contemporary Vocal and Choral Composition (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 25.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Quoted in Julie Wilson-Bokowiec, “Future Voices of Digital Opera: Re-imagining the Diva,” International Journal of Performance Arts and Digital Media 8, No. 1 (2012): 85.
[14] Margot Glassett Murdoch, “Composing with Vocal Physiology: Extended Vocal Technique Categories and Berio’s Sequenza III” (PhD diss., University of Utah, 2011), 5.
[15] Pirkko Moisala, Kaija Saariaho (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2009), 80.
[16] Ibid, 98.
[17] Ibid.
[18] Samual N. Rosenberg, Margaret Switten and Gérard Le Vot, eds., Songs of the Troubadours and Trouvères: An Anthology of Poems and Melodies (New York: Garland Publishing, 1998), 54.
[19] James Porter, “Lament,” in Grove Music Online (Oxford University Press, 2001-), accessed October 3, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.proxy.library.umkc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/15902
[20] Kaija Saariaho, L’Amour de loin: Opera in Five Acts vocal score. (Suffolk: Chester Music, 2010), 87.
[2] Christopher Page, ed. And trans., The Summa Musice: A Thirteenth-Century Manuel for Singers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 65, lines 489-507.
[3] Joseph Dyer, “The Voice in the Middle Ages,” in The Cambridge Companion to Singing, John Potter, ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 171.
[4] Timothy J. McGee, The Sound of Medieval Song: Ornamentation and Vocal Style according to the Treatises (New York: Oxford, 1998), 119-20.
[5] James Porter, “Lament,” in Grove Music Online (Oxford University Press, 2001-), accessed October 3, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.proxy.library.umkc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/15902
[6] John Haines, Medieval Song in Romance Languages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 35.
[7] Ibid, 42.
[8] Ibid, 43.
[9] Ibid, 41.
[10] ‘Wailing’ is a term commonly used to describe the sound of the lament.
[11] Istvan Anhalt, Alternative Voices: Essays on Contemporary Vocal and Choral Composition (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 25.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Quoted in Julie Wilson-Bokowiec, “Future Voices of Digital Opera: Re-imagining the Diva,” International Journal of Performance Arts and Digital Media 8, No. 1 (2012): 85.
[14] Margot Glassett Murdoch, “Composing with Vocal Physiology: Extended Vocal Technique Categories and Berio’s Sequenza III” (PhD diss., University of Utah, 2011), 5.
[15] Pirkko Moisala, Kaija Saariaho (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2009), 80.
[16] Ibid, 98.
[17] Ibid.
[18] Samual N. Rosenberg, Margaret Switten and Gérard Le Vot, eds., Songs of the Troubadours and Trouvères: An Anthology of Poems and Melodies (New York: Garland Publishing, 1998), 54.
[19] James Porter, “Lament,” in Grove Music Online (Oxford University Press, 2001-), accessed October 3, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.proxy.library.umkc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/15902
[20] Kaija Saariaho, L’Amour de loin: Opera in Five Acts vocal score. (Suffolk: Chester Music, 2010), 87.