Body and Soul

Six months into my biography project. If you’re new, or just not paying attention, I have decided to dedicate this year to the study of biographies (and autobiographies) or musicians and dancers. Why musicians and dancers? The simplest answer is these are the two topics that have always kept my full attention. Ballet, specifically, fascinates me with its aesthetic, grace, precision, and discipline. The finest dancers possess strength, musicality and astounding control. 

I was fortunate to study ballet while pursuing a dance minor at college. I enjoyed the jazz and modern classes, but always took more ballet classes than was strictly necessary. The feeling of executing a perfect pirouette or moving through an extended adagio combination without losing your balance is absolutely thrilling. I managed to progress enough to try some work en pointe, which is every bit as challenging as it appears to be. After a nearly 10 year lay-off, I have finally returned to a ballet studio. It is so difficult, but I love every minute of it.

At the end of last year I read Apollo’s Angels: A History of Ballet, by Jennifer Homans. This well-researched book chronicles ballet through its beginning in 17^th century France, its move through Italy, its subsequent grip on Russia, all before launching itself upon the world. Because so much of the history of ballet is tied to aristocracy and politics, I wound up learning more about European history than I ever did in history class. 

My biographies started with the sublime Dame Margot Fonteyn and has, up to now, taken me through the lives of Maria Tallchief, Jacques D’Amboise, Suzanne Farrell, George Balanchine, and Gelsey Kirkland (whose autobiography I have now read three times). Not surprisingly, they all dance through each others’ books, as they ballet world is rather small. The composers who write through this world include Stravinsky, Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Debussy, among many others.

The musician side of this project is, for better or for worse, heavily weighted in the jazz genre. My jazz foundation began when I was a kid, just starting to notice this thing called jazz. One of my first long reports in school was one of the history of jazz (I also did a report on the history of ballet). I learned about jazz’s beginnings in New Orleans (the history of which is only just now beginning to be clarified) and how it made its way to Chicago and Kansas City and then to New York as it spread itself throughout the nation and the world. Since that initial research, and forevermore, New Orleans has held a special place in my heart as the birthplace of such an intriguing art form. So perhaps it may have been a bit cloying to start the musician side of this project with Terry Teachout’s Pops. Considering Louis Armstrong’s influence on so many musicians since he picked up a horn, it just made sense to me to start the project this way. Following Louis, I have read my way through the lives (and times) of Artie Shaw, Lawrence Welk, Benny Goodman, Charlie Parker, and Woody Herman.

Biographies are brilliant ways to learn history, as no one lives in a vacuum. I have also found them to be a great source of inspiration. The great musicians and dancers are great for a reason. They have talent, certainly, but they also possess ideas, grit, determination, and absolute dedication to their craft. These are qualities that should be acknowledged, admired, and held up as an example of what an individual can accomplish.

Looking forward to the rest of the year, I notice that female musicians are under-represented, so I will be on the lookout for some good women. In the stack of books, though, are the lives of Vaslav Nijinsky, Bob Fosse, Miles Davis, Count Basie, Dizzy Gillespie, the Dorsey brothers, and Lionel Hampton. 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do.

You read it here first! Probably.

Interview with a Bass Flute

A Music Zombie Exclusive!

Recently, Music Zombie had the chance to meet a Bass Flute.  After some bargaining, and maybe just a little bit of blackmail, the Bass agreed to an interview.  What follows is the transcript of that interview.

Music Zombie:  Thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me.  It's not everyday that I get the chance to meet such an unusual instrument.

Bass Flute:  Well, I am not that unusual.  But I suppose that I don't make as many appearances in bands and orchestras as my higher-pitched relatives.  They like to be heard, I guess.  I prefer to just support the low end of the section.  Occasionally, I will take solos, but because I am hard to hear at times, I often need extra amplification from those nerdy sound-crew people.  And, well, you know how they can be...they're all "Can you move closer to the microphone?"-this and "can you play any louder?"-that.  Sheesh...

MZ:  Still, you make an interesting sound.  You really add something extra to flute choirs.  More depth to the sound, certainly.

BF:  I suppose.  Did you know that I read the same music as C flutes, but the sound I produce is a full octave lower?  Sort of the opposite direction that a piccolo will take.  You know those piccolos like to shriek above the music a full octave higher than the flute.  Haha!  Squeaky little things!

MZ:  Isn't it true, though, that you share some things in common with the piccolo, in terms of construction?

BF:  Well, yes.  Oftentimes, we are made without the extra keys as the foot joint (or completely missing the foot joint, as in the piccolo's case) and I lack trill keys.  I don't suppose folks have any interest in hearing basses trill. 

MZ:  Say, what is the funny foot thing you've got there near your left hand key section?

BF:  My crutch?  Well, I'm glad you noticed! Because my tube is so large, and I am quite a bit heavier than the small flutes, this crutch allows my player a more comfortable hand position.  Here, give it a try.  You will notice that it feels more stable when your left hand has more support.

MZ:  You're right!  That feels pretty comfy!  I did notice that your keys aren't really that much farther apart than on a regular flute, but the hands are more spaced apart. That means that your tube is much longer than a regular flute...but that is to be expected for a low-sounding instrument...care to elaborate?

BF:   Exactly!  Longer tubes equal lower tones.  Again, compare me to the high-sounding, short-tubed piccolo!  However, because my tube is so long, my head joint is usually built with a crook in it.  This brings the hand closer to the player.  This wasn't always the case.  The great instrument designer, Theobald Boehm, made a straight model.  It is reported to have great tone and power, but is really hard to hang on to while playing.  So, most of us nowadays are given curves.

MZ:  Fascinating!  One more thing I couldn't help but notice--your lip plate has a wall on it!  Tell me about that!

BF:  Oh that?  That little wall on my embouchure plate makes me a bit easier to produce a reliable tone.  Because flute players need to create their own back pressure, and I require so much air to play, adding a bit of built in resistance makes me speak better.  What can I say?  I guess I like to play hard-to-get!

MZ:  Well, thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me!  My readers will be delighted to hear what you had to say, and you've certainly taught me a lot!

BF:  You're welcome, I guess.  I guess I'll go back to my case now and take a nap.  Please, no more pictures.

"I SAID NO MORE PICTURES!!"

♫ On the 4th day...

...of Christmas, my Zombie gave to me: ♪

4/4 time
3 Pips and Gladys
2 Live Crew
and Tom Waits in a treeeeee!

4/4, or common, time means that there are 4 beats to a measure and the quarter note is the beat.

It's easiest to reinterpret the lower number in a time signature as a fraction: 1/4 => quarter => quarter note.

A quarter note.  Observe the filled in head and stem.  The stem may go up or down.

I promise that I'll learn some sort of Photoshop or drawing program someday.  For now, though, you get my low-tech drawings.  Zombies can only do so much at one time.  Braaaaaaaaainsss...

 When placed into a measure (which is really just a way to organize the sound into a readable, easily comprehensible format) you get something like this:

More low-tech music notations.

You will remember that "beat" is the pulse that you would tap your foot to.  Rhythm is the interesting stuff that happens over the beat.  Note (hehe) that there are 4 quarter notes inside this measure.  Four beats of music, with the quarter as the beat.  Tadaaa! 4/4 time!

There are other time signatures, but the formula to figure them out is always the same.  The top number (which can be anything, really) tells you how many beats are supposed to be in a single measure.  The bottom number can only be one of a few numbers (because there are is a set amount of kinds of notes).  So, with this in mind, we know that the time signature of 7/16 would result in 7 beats within a measure, with sixteenth notes as the beat.  We also know that music in this kind of time signature would be annoying, at best, and would be impossible to march to.

Off the Shelf: Ella Fitzgerald

The CD plucked off the shelf this week is another cheap disc I picked up during my high school days:  Ella Fitzgerald: Flying Home.  It is a compilation of recordings of the great jazz singer.  The liner notes are lacking (that is, there aren't any) so I had to do a bit of fact-checking.  The second track on the disc is a song that is now virtually owned by Fitzgerald: How High the Moon (it is also one of about three songs that I've ever done the karoake thing to.  Tee hee.)  There is a story behind the scat-singing on that track, but as I haven't found a documented source of that story yet, I can't tell you whether it's true or not.  The story goes like this:  During a concert, performing said song, Ella forgets the lyrics, and so makes them up.  However, other accounts tell me that she didn't forget the words, but instead uses the tune as a way of forging and refining her style to integrate into the bepop scene (she in fact, quotes several bars of Charlie Parker's Ornithology, a song that shares the chord progression with How High the Moon).  Ella fully embraced the bebop movement.

The nonsense syllables are called "scatting," and are similar to the non-lexical vocables that we learned about with Mr. Trololo (see the post about Trolololo-ing).  It is a technique that requires the singer to impersonate musical instruments.  Fitzgerald happened to be very good at this, and she used it extensively in her later recordings.

She had a consistently successful career as a jazz singer, her lovely voice contributing to recordings of covers of songs by Cole Porter, the Gershwins, Johnny Mercer, Irving Berlin, Rodgers and Hart, and Duke Ellington.  She worked a lot with Louis Armstrong, recording several albums with him.  On the 3rd track of my cheap CD is Basin Street Blues, she does an impersonation of Armstrong's distinctive singing voice.  He sings with her on A Foggy Day and Moonlight in Vermont, and you can hear his trumpet skillfully navigating the changes on several other tracks.

I suspect the recordings of Oh Lady Be Good and How High the Moon are the famous 1947 versions, and the Flying Home track was recorded in 1945.  My personal favourites are Angel Eyes and Lullaby of Birdland, two songs that always made me dream of becoming a jazz singer (Peggy Lee has had the same effect on me).  But I can't scat sing.  At least not with the ease, inventiveness, and grace of Ella.  In 1987, she was presented with the much-deserved National Medal of Arts, and a few years later France awarded her their Commander of Arts and Letters award.

Ella Fitzgerald left this world on June 15, 1996.  She was 79 years old.

Blue moon of Kentucky

Getting psyched for my impending Kentucky trip.  I will be attending the 2-day Jamey Aebersold Improvisation seminar at the University of Louisville.  This will be my first road trip South (well, if you don't count the trip to Florida that I took with my high school band.  Riding in a charter bus for 22 hours doesn't really count as a road trip for me.)

In preparation for my trip, I've looked into some well-known musicians from the state of Kentucky.  It's no surprise that many country, Christian, and gospel singers hail from Kentucky: Steven Curtis Chapman, Achy Breaky Hearted Billy Ray Cyrus, Loretta Lynn (the coal miner's daughter), Naomi Judd, Wynonna Judd, and Ricky Scaggs.  Kentucky is home to a rich history of folk and country music, and it's just a hop and a skip away from another major music hub: Nashville, TN.  From Rosine, KY comes "The Father of Bluegrass Music" Bill Monroe.  According to his website, he invented, labelled, and propelled bluegrass style into modern America.  Through the inception of his band, the Blue Grass Boys, he defined the bluegrass tradition with close harmonies, instrumental virtuosity, and driving tempos. 

In Monroe's own words: "To me, bluegrass is really THE country music.  It was meant for country people."  With that quote, it's easy to wander off into the murky depths of country and folk music history, in an attempt to come up with an intellectual definition of "country" music.  [Here we go, down the rabbit hole.]  What is country music?  As opposed to pop music?  Or blues?  How is modern country music different from modern pop music (leaving out hip-hop for the moment)?  Same instruments, some of them even electrified.  Same themes in lyrics, same chord progressions.  All that's different is style and a bit of twang.  Throw in a lap steel guitar, a twangy voice and a violin solo and any tune can become a country tune.  Or is it really that easy?  Probably not. 

The difference comes from the history, I think.  The tradition that has been passed down from one musician to the next.  In some parts of the country, folk musicians took a turn onto the path of blues and then ragtime and then, eventually, Tin Pan Alley.  Jazz musicians rely on traditions too, but are usually trying to break out them; constantly moving towards new sounds.  In other parts of the country, like in the South, the music and musicians retained that unique identity.  Of course it evolved, but it stayed closer to its roots.  Therefore, Bluegrass is country music with lots of caffeine.

That's the way I see it, anyway. 

A bluegrass band is traditionally a small string orchestra, with guitars, banjos, perhaps a mandolin, a violin or two, and a bass to keep it all grounded.  Like jazz, it is a uniquely American art-form.  Also, like jazz, there is an element of improvisation: band members will trade blazing solos over choruses of folk tunes.  Rounding the corner, to make the full circle, jazz vibraphonist Lionel Hampton was born in Louisville, though he considered Birmingham, Alabama is home.  And, how could I leave out Boots Randolph, saxophonist extraordinaire (Yakety Sax).  He was born in Paducah, and was part of the "Nashville sound" for most of his career.

Now I know what music to pack for the drive.

Trololololoooo

Music doesn't usually make its way into meme-hood.  For the uninitiated, a meme is an idea or item that is spread throughout culture through repetition, much like the biological transmission of genetic material (think "viral" videos).  The dancing banana/Peanut Butter Jelly Time meme is the first musical one that comes to mind (and one of the first true Internet memes).  The other major music meme that comes to mind is the Trololo guy.  If you've ever been "Rickrolled," that's another example of a meme.

The Trololo guy is really Eduard Khil, a popular Soviet singer of the 1960s and 70s, gained worldwide stardom several years ago when a video of him singing nonsense syllables over a chirpy melody hit the YouTubes.  The melody Khil is singing is the tune of a song called I Am Glad, 'Cause I'm Finally Returning Back Home.  The song was written by Arkady Ostrovsky, with sentimental lyrics about a cowboy riding across the prairie, thinking about his sweetheart.  These lyrics, apparently, irked the Soviet censors, so Khil removed the lyrics and sang trololos over it. The technical term for this kind of lyric is a "non-lexical vocable".  In jazz music, we call it "scat singing," and several other cultures use this type of singing in some form.  Other common types of non-lexical vocable-ing include a capella singing, beatboxing, and doo-wop.

Mr. Khil died on June 4 of this year, at age 77.  He was largely unaware of his Western popularity, remarking that he "never earned a kopeck" from his sudden fame.  He will now be remembered for his rich, baritone voice and radiant, infectious smile.

Trolololololololololo trololololooooooo!!

Call me!

I love big band music.  You know this.  Unfortunately, there are a few tunes are played (and requested) to death.  The anthems, like In the Mood, come to mind.  Another popular song that is oft-requested is Pennsylvania 6-5000.  The song was written by Jerry Gray and Carl Sigman and released in 1940.  The song is a typical fox-trot beat, with opportunities for the band to shout "Pennsylvania six-five-thousand!"

Ever wondered what it means?  I didn't really give it too much thought (there are a lot of songs out there with inconsequential names) until I read about the history of telephones and telephone numbers.  "Pennsylvania 6-5000" is the old telephone exchange system number for the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York City.  Telephone numbers have letters on them, as you will have noticed.  The letters were originally placed there for the call exchange system that was used when telephones first came into normal use.  Under the old system, with the old rotary dials, the first two letters of the address were used as part of the phone number.  P and E are 7 and 3, making the phone number 736-5000.  This system was eventually phased out (sometime around the 1970s) as more locations made the system too complex and the letters are now more of a mnemonic aid.

The phone number became a smash hit because the Glenn Miller Orchestra (and many other big bands of that era) played at the Cafe Rouge Ballroom in the Hotel Pennsylvania, and the phone number was the inspiration for the tune.  There are more lyrics for the song, but the only one that anyone ever seems to know is the refrain, "PENNSYLVANIA 6-5-0-0-0!"

A couple of other phone number songs:   

Beechwood 4-5789 by The Marvelettes (1962)
Jenny (867-5309) by Tommy Tutone (1982)

Not to be confused with calling the operator:  Operator --Mary Wells and Brenda Holloway, written by Smokey Robinson  (1965)

Superbone!!

I just learned about an instrument called a Superbone.  A Superbone is a hybrid valve and slide trombone.  It has the traditional slide mechanism of normal trombones, plus the valve mechanism like a trumpet.  I've heard of valve trombones, but those trombones are more like big, low trumpets.

The TR 395 Superbone was developed in the 1970s by the Holton company in collaboration with jazz monster-trumpeter Maynard Ferguson, and other companies made similar instruments.  It wasn't the first of its kind though.  A "Valide" trombone (valve + slide) was invented by jazz trombonist Brad Gowans, who played one with from the 1920s through the 1950s, even while with the Jimmy Dorsey band.  Duke Ellington's trombonist, Juan Tizol, used a valve/slide hybrid bone after joining Ellington's band in 1929.

What makes the Superbone unique from the previous designs is its fully functional, 7-position slide, the three-valve mechanism positioned alongside, and a slide lock.  The valves are gripped with the left hand, supporting the instrument and leaving the right hand free to operate the slide.

On a related note, there is also something called a Firebird, also developed by Ferguson.  The Firebird the trumpet counterpart to the Superbone.  It is a trumpet (valves and all) with up to a 4-position slide mechanism.  The valves can be gripped by either the right or the left hand, leaving the other hand free to operate the slide.  On some models, the bell is bent upward at a 20 degree angle to allow room to move the slide.

The brass world is even weirder than we thought.   ;-)

LIGHTS!!

I have a quick tidbit today.  Not strictly music, but I thought it was interesting...

Have you ever heard the phrase "in the limelight"?  Have you ever wondered what it means?  The spot light isn't lime coloured.  The phrase comes from the mid-1800s, when a British engineer and inventor, Sir Goldsworthy Gurney, put into the practical use the phenomenon of burning hunks of lime.  Lime is a calcium based material, formally called calcium oxide or calcium hydroxide.  Anyway, when you get a really hot flame, fueled by alcohol and oxygen, you can burn a small piece of lime.  The result is an intense, white light. 

The light source was used, predictably, in lighthouses, but also, because the beam could be narrowed and focused, in theaters.  Hence, if you were in the limelight, you were some sort of star, worthy of being lit up by a bright beam.  Unfortunately, burning lime is also hazardous, as it caused a lot of fires.  According to a report published in 1899, nearly ten thousand people were killed in theater fires in Britain in the nineteenth century.



Much thanks to Bill Bryson and his wonderful new book, At Home: A Short History of Private Life, for shining the light (ahem) on this fascinating nibble.

Like notes on the staff...

...these are the tales of music publishing.  Reading about the histories of some music publishers (and several other music trade entities) is like reading the storyline for a daytime TV drama.  A lot of switching of partners, spiteful actions, petty disagreements, betrayal, love, lust.  Well, maybe less of the last two.

Boosey & Hawkes, for example, was formed in 1930, as a result of a merger of two established British music publishers.  Music publishers are like the middlemen between the artist and the adoring fans.  Composers sell the rights of their music to a publisher, who produces and sells the intellectual property (the sheet music).  This has a side effect of stirring up copyright issues.  As I've mentioned, copyright law is full of twists, turns, and traps (watch out!), that can all result in some fairly serious fines.  But let's not discuss law right now. 

Leslie Boosey and Ralph Hawkes were rival music company owners.  Rather than fight against one another, they decided to join forces.  Thus, Boosey & Hawkes.  To make a long, convoluted story short, the two men had different interests.  Boosey was interested in not just publishing, but in instrument manufacturing.  Hawkes thought instrument making was dull, and actually wanted to buy out the publishing side of the business and manage it from New York.  Ralph Hawkes died in 1950, however, and his portion of the company was taken over by his rather irresponsible brother, Geoffrey.  Geoffrey spent most of his money on mouth organs and ovens, both of which failed.  Geoffrey died of leukemia in 1961.

The surviving Boosey (ha ha, that sounds funny!) had support throughout these difficult years from his managing director, Ernst Roth.  Allegedly, the composer Benjamin Britten had a hand in tearing apart the two businessmen.  In the early 1960s, Roth forced Boosey's sons out of the company, and barred his youngest son from joining.  Boosey, to his credit, realized Britten's value and agreed to divide the company into two parts, publishing and instrument manufacture.  Unfortunately, Britten prevented Boosey from being chairperson of the music publishing board that was formed at Britten's request.  This was humiliating for Boosey.

Britten later got Boosey & Hawkes to hire Donald Mitchell to scout out new talent.  This made Roth angry, who felt that Britten had too much control over Boosey.  Roth fired Mitchell.  Mitchell later went to the Faber and Faber book publishing company and set up Faber Music, with the help of Britten.

Boosey & Hawkes claims to be the largest classical music publishing house world-wide.  Its catalog includes major 20-century composers, including Stravinsky, Copland, Bartok, Britten, Strauss, Prokofieff, and Rachmaninoff. 

And you thought a story about a publishing company would be boring.

Infomercial

Hi.  I'm Hyacinth Throttlebottom.  I'm here today to talk to you about pronunciation.  Specifically, how to properly pronounce composer's names.

Do you feel inadequate in symphonic situations?  Does your inability to pronounce composer's names cause you undue embarrassment?  Do you ever wish that you could feel confident and knowledgeable with other concertgoers?  Does it seem like you are the only one mispronouncing Brahms, Handel and Liszt?  Well, stop worrying!  I'm here to help.  With my five week at home course, you will gain all of the experience needed to speak intelligently and confidently with the orchestral population.

In week one you will learn that not all composers were American or English.  Many of them were from other countries, and therefore, their language tells us how to pronounce their names.  For example, Richard Strauss was German, so we can't just call him Rich, he's 'Reeckart Schtrouss'.  Similarly, the French composers Frederick Chopin and Claude Debussy require some French pronunciation.  Hence:  'Freederick Showpan' and 'Clawd Dubyusseee'.  To make matters worse, even English or American composers have names that are often descended from the Old World, making them at times a bit confusing.  I mean, really!  Who hasn't been ashamed at their lack of pronunciation power when talking about the music of John Corigliano?  ('Core-lee-ahno')

This is why Hukt on Fonix doesn't work!  The word phonetic isn't, and dialect and language have specific and contrasting rules!

In the subsequent weeks of the 5 week course, we go on a tour of world, composer style.  We will see why Mozart is pronounced 'Moat-zart', Beethoven is 'Bait-oh-ven', Richard Wagner is 'Reeckart Vahgner', Hector Berlioz is 'Hektor Bear-lee-ohz' and the always baffling Antonin Dvorak is 'Antonin DVOR-zhahk'.

But that's not all!  Call now and I'll include your very own "Guide to Pronouncing the Great Works of Art by the Great Sometimes-Hard-to Properly-Pronounce Composers"!  This invaluable resource will take you through many great works, including Verdi's Aida, an enormous operatic masterpiece with a short name: 'Eye-EE-Duh'.

Call now and I'll throw in this adorable plush Igor Stravinsky (Eegore Strawveenski)!  He's
just "Rite for Spring"!!  HAHAHA!!!  Don't delay, call today!!

A-caroling we will go

After years of resisting, I have broken down and picked up a Christmas carol book to play on the piano.  The years of resistance is largely due to my relative inability to play the piano well, but I've been practicing a lot lately, and so can now play some easy arrangements well enough.  I was playing through some tunes and got to thinking, when and where were the first carols sung or played?

It is probably worth mentioning that Christmas is built around a pagan holiday celebrating the winter solstice and that Jesus was probably born sometime in the spring.  Because the Christian religion appropriated the solstice holiday, the first Christmastime hymn with a Christian focus appeared in 4th century Rome.  The hymns were in the traditional Latin and were basically theological doctrines.  A Parisian monk named Adam of St. Victor began to derive music from popular songs in the 12th century, and these are a little closer to the modern Christmas carol. 

"Wassailing" was a tradition that began with songs that were meant to be sung by groups of people (and also probably has some pagan background; wassail is an Anglo-Saxon toast for "be thou hale" or "be in good health.")  The group of singers would go from home to home singing carols.

The "golden age" of caroling is believed to have been between the 15th and 16th century in England, and the word carol is of medieval origin that meant a dance song or circle song with singing.  Most of these songs had a verse and refrain form.  Remarkably, caroling fell out of fashion for about 200 years, experiencing a revival of sorts in the 18th century, where most of the carols we know today come from.

Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail too!

Rockets and steamrollers

I've been jotting down notes about things I'd like to write about.  If I don't, I'll forget the idea.  These are just a few of the things I've been thinking about this week:

--J. S. Bach, Douglas Hofstadter, and The Art of Fugue and The Goldberg Variations.

--Glenn Gould

--the Mannheim school/Mannheim style

--opus numbers and cataloguing systems for the works of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, and Haydn.

--music theory history

--Beethoven's symphonies

The only one I'm prepared to talk about right now is the Mannheim school.  I'm sure you've heard of the popular music group Mannheim Steamroller.  The group takes their name from an interesting and important source.  The Mannheim school, of Germany, was influential in the 18th century, and was responsible for the eventual changes in style of the symphonic work of Haydn and Mozart (who in turn influenced everyone else).  The style of symphonic development that the school promoted entails soloistic use of woodwinds, prominent melodic lines, slow moving harmonies, and dramatic dynamic shifts.  This last thing is where the modern group takes its names.  In large scale symphonic works, extended crescendo passages were used, referred to as a Walze, or "roller" (now referred to as a steamroller).  The Mannheim symphonies were highly regarded for their technical precision and large ensemble size (up to about this time in music history, most ensembles weren't very big, not like the modern symphony, which employs between 35-50 musicians). 

Interestingly, Grove Music Online tells me that some of these stylistic innovations were actually originated  from earlier Italian schools and Italian operas (Italian operatic repertoire were used in the Mannheim school).

There is also something called a Mannheim rocket, which is made up of an ascending triad (three notes) theme in equal note lengths, a "sigh", and something called a Bebung, which is a trembling effect, created by a rapid shaking of a finger on a string, or a key on a clavichord.

Now you know.

By any other name...

Lots of musicians change their name for the biz...

Arthur Jacob Arshawsky = Artie Shaw

Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart = Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart  (who, incidentally, never actually went by the name of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart)
Frances Ethel Gumm = Judy Garland

Woodrow Charles Thomas Herman = Woody Herman

Reginald Dwight = Elton John

Gordon Sumner = Sting

Marvin Aday = Meat Loaf

Robert Zimmerman = Bob Dylan

Virginia Hensley = Patsy Cline

Stefani Germanotta = Lady Gaga

Adventures in instrument naming

The French horn is not French. It's German.  (And, most horn players will refer to their instruments as simply the horn.)

The English horn is not a horn and it is actually French.  The name comes from a corruption of the original name of cor anglais.  Cor anglais actually is French for English horn (to further confuse matters) but the shape of the instrument reminded people of the "angelic horns" in religious paintings of the Middle Ages.  Engellisches Horn gave way to English horn and, for lack of a better alternative, the name stuck.  Well, they probably could have come up with a more original name, but I suppose they had other things to do.

The clarinet is named for the range it plays in (the clarion register) of a trumpet at the time of its development.

"Oboe" comes from the French hautbois, which means "high wood." 
In French, paperclips are called "trombones" (but that, admittedly, has nothing to do with how the instrument was named.  I just find that funny.  :)  "Trombone" comes from the Italian tromba, meaning trumpet and -one, which means large.  => Large trumpet.

Saxophones are named after their inventor, Belgian instrument designer Adolphe Sax.

Sousaphones are named for John Phillip Sousa (the March King) who helped with the design of a marching tuba.

String basses aren't just big violins.  They actually come from a different family of instruments known as gambas.  They are also tuned differently, in fourths instead of fifths like the violin, viola, and cello.