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Drinking straws and shaman melodies: a historical and analytical study of the taepyeongso Francis, Aaron 2008

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DRINKING STRAWS AND SHAMAN MELODIES: A HISTORICAL AND ANALYTICAL STUDY OF THE TAEPYEONGSO   by  Aaron Francis      A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF  MASTER OF ARTS   in   THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES   (Music)     THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA  (Vancouver)    August 2008   © Aaron Francis, 2008   ii ABSTRACT  This paper is about the taepyeongso (also known as hojoek, saenap, nallari), a Korean double-reed instrument closely related to the Chinese suona and a descendent of the Persian zurna. The instrument is examined from a number of perspectives: historical, theoretical, practical, and personal. For historians and musicologists, I compile core background information about the instrument from a variety of key sources; for amateur players and avid listeners, I attempt to provide new avenues for theoretical understanding and analytical inquiry. My own experience as a participant in learning the music in Korea serves as a backdrop to later analyses of melodic forms and structures from the taepyeongso “folk” repertoire. The repertoire may be divided into main three regional styles: neunggye (or gyeong-tori) in the central regions, sinawi in the southwest, and menari in the east. I examine each of these styles in relation to Korean theoretical perspectives on mode and melody. I then focus on gyeong-tori melodies, demonstrating through transcription and analysis of commercial recordings four characteristic approaches to variation and improvisation. In addition to musical analysis, I provide short biographies of important performers, a catalogue of performance contexts, and basic background to the instrument’s construction and playing technique.     iii TABLE OF CONTENTS  Abstract ...............................................................................................................ii Table of Contents...............................................................................................III list of figures ......................................................................................................iv Note on Romanization of Foreign Chapter 1: A Traveller’s Tale..............................................................................1 INTRODUCTION ....................................................................................................1 GOING TO KOREA................................................................................................7 WRITINGS ABOUT TAEPYEONGSO .......................................................................12 Chapter 2: The Instrument ...............................................................................17 INTRODUCTION ..................................................................................................17 HISTORY AND CONSTRUCTION............................................................................17 PLAYING THE INSTRUMENT.................................................................................21 MAKING A REED (SEO) ......................................................................................25 CONTEXTS ........................................................................................................27 PLAYERS...........................................................................................................31 Chapter 3: Modes and Melodies ......................................................................38 MODES, STYLES AND OTHER THEORETICAL CONSTRUCTS ...................................38 KEY TERMINOLOGY............................................................................................39 EARLY HISTORY OF MODES IN KOREA ................................................................42 MODES AND REGIONAL STYLES..........................................................................46 NOTATION .........................................................................................................50 THREE MODES ..................................................................................................54 NEUNGGYE GUTGEORI .......................................................................................55 SINAWI..............................................................................................................64 MENARI.............................................................................................................68 SUMMARY .........................................................................................................72 Chapter 4: Approaches to Melodic Variation in Gyeong-Tori Melodies.......74 THE REPERTOIRE ..............................................................................................74 VARIATION IN FIXED-FORM MELODIES: NEUNGGYE GUTGEORI..............................78 VARIATION IN NON-FIXED-FORM MELODIES I: NEUNGGYE JAJINMORI ....................85 VARIATION IN NON-FIXED-FORM MELODIES II: HEOTEUNTARYEONG......................89 VARIATION OF MELODIES IN VARIOUS JANGDAN: GILTARYEONG............................96 SUMMARY .........................................................................................................98 Chapter 5: Final Say .......................................................................................100 Bibliography ....................................................................................................105 Appendix: Korean Translation Of Abstract ..................................................110  iv LIST OF FIGURES  Figure 1: The Taepyeongso and Its Parts ................................................................18 Figure 2: Three Ways to Hold the Taepyeongso.......................................................22 Figure 3: Basic Taepyeongso Tuning Using Western Note Values .............................23 Figure 4: Basic Fingering System for Central Region Melodies ..................................24 Figure 5: Basic Fingering System for Southwestern Region Melodies.........................24 Figure 6: Galtae Reed (Left) and Plastic Reed (Right)...............................................25 Figure 7: The Taepyeongso Player’s Toolbox ..........................................................27 Figure 8: So And Hwang’s “Original” Pyeongjo (P) And Gyemyeonjo (G)....................45 Figure 9: Five Melodic Regions of Korea .................................................................47 Figure 10: Four Models of Gyeong-Tori ...................................................................49 Figure 11: Three Models Of Menari-Tori: .................................................................49 Figure 12: Three Models of Yukjabaegi-Tori.............................................................50 Figure 13: Taepyeongso Fingerings with Yuljabo Syllables........................................51 Figure 14a: A Conceptual Sample of Taepyeongso Notation: ....................................52 Figure 14b: Half-Beat Duration in Taepyeongso Notation: .........................................52 Figure 15a: Yuljabo with Staff Notation (Main Octave) ..............................................54 Figure 15b: Yuljabo with Staff Notation (Upper Octave).............................................54 Figure 16: Heo Yong-Eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong”, First Iteration.................................57 Figure 17: Formal Structure Of Heo Yong-Eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong”........................57 Figure 18: Melodic Data for Heo Yong-Eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong”.............................58 Figure 19: Toneset In Heo Yong-Eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” .....................................59 Figure 20a: Intervals in Heo Yong-Eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” ...................................60 Figure 20b: Adjusted Intervals in Heo Yong-Eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” .....................60 Figure 21: Comparison of Solfege Intervals with Adjusted Intervals in Heo Yong-Eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong”..............................................................................................61 Figure 22: Bak Jongseon’s “Taepyeongso Sinawi” (First 16 Cycles)...........................65 Figure 23: Tuning in Bak Jongseon’s “Taepyeongso Sinawi” .....................................66 Figure 24: Remembered Version Of Baetnorae ........................................................69 Figure 25: Menari’s Toneset ...................................................................................69 Figure 26: “Deep Sea” (From :51) ...........................................................................70 Figure 27: “Kwigok” (From 4:17) .............................................................................71  v Figure 27: Lee Jongdae, from “Taepyeongso And Samulnori” (First Iteration) .............80 Figure 28: Kim Chanseop, from “Dokjugok-Neunggye” (First Iteration) .......................81 Figure 29: Neunggye Gutgeori Metascore................................................................82 Figure 30: Introductory Phrase in Heo Yong-Eob’s Neunggye Jajinmori .....................86 Figure 31: First Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Neunggye Jajinmori...............................86 Figure 32: Second Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Neunggye Jajinmori ..........................87 Figure 33: Third Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Neunggye Jajinmori..............................87 Figure 34: Introductory Phrase of Seo Yongseok’s Neunggye Jajinmori .....................88 Figure 35: First Iteration of Seo Yongseok’s Neunggye Jajinmori ...............................89 Figure 36: Third Iteration of Seo Yongseok’s Neunggye Jajinmori..............................89 Figure 37: Introductory Phrase of Heo Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong .........................90 Figure 38: First Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong...................................91 Figure 39: Third Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong .................................91 Figure 40: Third Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong .................................92 Figure 41: Top-Level Taxonomic Categories for Heoteuntaryeong .............................93 Figure 42: Formal Organization of Heo Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong According To Taxonomic Categories ...........................................................................................93 Figure 43: Second-Level Taxonomic Categories for Heoteuntaryeong........................94 Figure 44: Four Ways of Creating a Typical Iteration of Heoteuntaryeong ...................93 Figure 45a: Kim Jeomseok’s “Gutgeori Giltaryeong” in Gutgeori Jangdan...................97 Figure 45b: Kim Jeomseok’s “Taryeongjo Giltaryeong” in Taryeong Jangdan..............97 Figure 45c: Kim Jeomseok’s “Jajinmori Giltaryeong” in Jajinmori Jangdan..................97 Figure 45d: Kim Jeomseok’s “Naerimgye Giltaryeong” in Naerimgye Jangdan ............97 Figure 45e: Kim Jeomseok’s “Hwimori Giltaryeong” in Hwimori Jangdan ....................97           vi NOTE ON ROMANIZATION OF FOREIGN TERMS  Romanization of Korean terms, including personal names, is in accordance with the Korean government’s Revision of the Romanization of Korea (available at  In accordance with academic convention, foreign terms are italicized, with the following exceptions:  a) Titles of individual commercially-produced recordings (i.e. tracks on a compact disc) are not italicized; instead, they are enclosed in quotation marks and first letters are capitalized. Example: “Neunggyetaryeong”.  b) Preferred names of particular melodies, and names of places, rituals/ceremonies, and individuals are neither italicized nor enclosed in quotation marks; first letters are capitalized. Examples: Neunggye Gutgeori, Gyeonggi province, Donghae-an Byeolsingut, Heo Yong-eop.  c) Romanization of Sino-Korean “solfege” syllables, as with western solfege syllables, are capitalized but not italicized. Example: Jung, La  1 CHAPTER 1: A TRAVELLER’S TALE  Introduction This paper is about, in a word, the taepyeongso, a Korean double-reed instrument closely related to the Chinese suona and a descendent of the Persian zurna. My scope is broad. I examine the instrument from a number of angles: historical, theoretical, practical, and personal.  My purposes are several: to provide the listener with new avenues by which to appreciate and explore the music; to provide would-be and amateur players, such as myself, with a theoretical basis of understanding the melodies and their variations; to gather together in one place for the benefit of future researchers basic information about the instrument currently dispersed in various sources; to contribute in a small but well-meaning way to the growing corpus of English- language writing about Korean music and to the more general (ethno-) musicological discourse; and, finally, to show appreciation, through this paper and my ongoing commitment to learning about Korean music, to the teachers and friends with whom I’ve had the opportunity to play and learn.  The paper consists of five sections. In this introduction, I describe my own experience learning the instrument, as well as my approach to the field of  2 musicology in general, and survey the sources which have contributed to this study. Chapter 2 covers the history and construction of the instrument, the contexts in which it is played, who the players are, and provides the reader with a basic how-to on playing the instrument. In the third and central chapter, I examine, through the somewhat blurry lens of Korean modal theory, three representative samples of taepyeongso playing from each of three main regional styles. Penultimately, I focus on a number of melodies from Gyeonggi province and surrounding regions, hoping to illuminate a few general characteristics of the style and how variations and alternative interpretations are constructed—in other words, I try to show how the music works. A short concluding chapter looks at the playing of east coast shaman ritualist Kim Seokchul, and includes some final thoughts.  This is not an ethnography. While this paper may be classified within the general category “ethnomusicology”—indeed, was written specifically to fulfill the requirements of an institutionally-based MA in Ethnomusicology—I have a basic disagreement with this prefix -ethno. True, the concepts it modifies are open- ended enough to allow multiple interpretations. Bruno Nettl, for example, lists five for ethnomusicology: “Ethnomusicology is (1) a full-fledged discipline; (2) a branch of musicology, or (3) of anthropology; (4) an interdisciplinary field; (5) the kind-of all-encompassing discipline that ‘musicology’ ought to be” (Nettl 2005, 5).   3 The uncomfortable reality is that the majority of North American and European universities are devoted exclusively or primarily to western “classical” music (to use the term by which European art music is most widely known), while the rest of the world’s musics are relegated to the margins of academic institutions. Classical music is art, while ethnomusic is anthropology, just as ethnoreligion is folklore/mythology, and ethnoartists artisans. Thus, while ethnomusicologists and other academics decry the human tragedy of colonization and its attendant de- legitimization of ethnocultures, university music departments, by marginalizing non-“classical” music, embrace—indeed embody—the colonialist ideal. Of course, music flowers in infinite variety—no institution can be expected to devote equal resources to each and every species and subspecies. But even a casual inspection of university music departments reveals an unmistakable bias: western classical music first, everything else second.  Having excluded experts in non-western musics from the academic establishment, academia lacks experts able to adequately transmit non-western musical knowledge and ability to succeeding generations. The maxim, “In the country of the blind the one-eyed man is king”, succinctly describes the current study of non-classical music in academic institutions. The status of expert, formalized by university-issued degrees, certificates, and teaching positions, is conferred on individuals who, removed from academia and placed in the context in which the music lives and grows, are revealed to be mere students. Meanwhile, our teachers are relegated to the role of informants—agents in our passage into  4 expert-hood. If we are to recognize the equality of non-western musics, we must also give equality of place to the experts of the field.  I wonder, when I return to Korea, how eager will I be to discuss with my teachers my “master”-y of their music? I try to convince myself that I am absolved of committing ethnomusicology by my sincere desire to learn and to love, but doubt remains. In any case, I proceed despite these misgivings.  In fact, I admire ethnomusicologists. Oxford-trained Kofi Agawu’s Representing African Music is a masterpiece of reasoning, the author the most articulate and compelling voice for the musically-marginalized that I have encountered. Steven Feld’s Sound and Sentiment opened my eyes to a new way of thinking and writing. I rejoiced to discover literature in English about the various types of music I have played and studied, including Korean music. At UBC, Michael Tenzer and Nathan Hesselink have constantly challenged me to rethink my own biases, and their considerable effort to giving a place to the experts—through residencies and guest appearances—is evidence of their commitment to providing greater opportunity to the excluded. This paper is, to a large extent, intended to answer a question I recall being posed by Michael Tenzer, namely: “If I was to play/compose this music, what would I need to know?”  The ongoing evolution of the field also is encouraging. The omniscient narrator of Enemy Way Music (1954), for example, gives way by the 1970s to the  5 participant-observer in Chernoff’s African Rhythm and African Sensibility (1981) and, more recently, to the highly sensitive and nuanced narrative of Beverley Diamond’s (et al) Visions of Sound (1995). In this latter work, the authors take great care to show respect towards the communities studied and individuals consulted: quotations, for example, are printed in bold print, are frequent and often lengthy, and are attributed to named individuals. Indigenous theory, also, is given precedence over proscribed non-indigenous theory: “it was most certainly the elders and consultants who worked with us on the project who were the major theorists, the philosophers” (6). In short, the field of ethnography is more sensitive to ethical issues like representation than ever before.  But this is not an ethnography. Frankly, I simply haven’t engaged in the type of field research required to produce one. While I have travelled to Korea on two occasions (in 2002-3 and 2007), spending a total of 16 months in the country, and took lessons on taepyeongso and other instruments during this time, my purpose was simply to learn to play the music. I did not conduct formal interviews and did not record the lessons. Especially during my first stay in 2002-2003, writing an ethnography was the farthest thing from my mind. Personally, I’ve always preferred music to anthropology.  For musical data, I primarily rely on transcriptions and analysis of published recordings. I chose to use commercially produced recordings—as opposed to field recordings—as my primary source for several reasons. First, they represent,  6 at least theoretically, an attempt on the part of the players to present to the public their best interpretation of a musical item. In other words, they are authoritative. Secondly, because they are publicly available, readers of this paper can verify my data. The public availability ensures accountability on my part. Finally, the opportunity to record in a studio is generally offered to only the most highly- respected masters, so I am assured to some extent that the recordings represent some of the best contemporary examples of taepyeongso playing.  I listened to approximately one hundred tracks featuring taepyeongso from approximately thirty-five CDs and DVDs. This represents a considerable proportion of the total number of recordings currently available—exactly how many have been produced would require more extensive research, but I rarely come across contemporary, commercial titles not represented in my collection. Almost all these recordings are of relatively recent origin, and none are pre-1960. Approximately twenty players are featured on these recordings—in some cases, the player is not listed—including nearly all significant living players (in the next chapter, I detail who some of these players are). All major regional styles are represented. The tracks range in length from one minute to over thirty minutes. Of these one hundred tracks, I applied to each a cursory analysis, and chose thirty for transcription and deeper analysis—although space and time limit how many I can discuss here.   7 Context and meaning are important. To play or understand any music well, we must understand the context in which it is played and the meanings and signifiers hidden within the music. The notion of “art for art’s sake” is a myth—no music is totally pure or completely divorced from the society which produces it. Understanding these contexts and meanings requires communication—we learn them from teachers and knowledgeable individuals. Therefore, wherever possible, I supplement musical analysis with information gathered from both written sources and oral communication.  Going to Korea I have travelled to and lived in Korea on two occasions, first in 2002-3 and again in 2007, for a total of sixteen months. I initially travelled to Korea simply for the sake of adventure. I had been employed as a director of a private Vancouver- based English as a Second Language institution. In this position, I had the opportunity to get to know many immigrants and international students from Korea and, having learned something about the country, decided to travel there and see for myself what it was like. Before departing, I learned to read and write hangeul (Korean script), and memorized a few useful expressions in Korean.  While still in Vancouver, one acquaintance presented me with a number of CDs, each featuring a different type Korean traditional (or neo-traditional) music, including pansori (solo story-singing with drum accompaniment), minyo (folksong), samulnori (percussion quartet), new compositions for gayageum  8 (Korean zither) by Hwang Byeong-Gi (whose evocative dreamscapes impressed me deeply), and samples from the court music repertoire. I had also heard that the village of Namwon in North Jeolla province was famous for traditional music, and so my plan was set, naïve as it was: I would travel to Namwon, find a job teaching English, and begin studying pansori and gayageum.  As it turned out, teaching opportunities in Namwon were limited, so I expanded my horizons and spent the next week travelling by bus and train throughout Korea seeking employment in non-urban areas, eventually accepting a job in Onyang, a mid-sized town in South Chungcheong province a couple of hours by train south of Seoul. A co-worker kindly helped me to locate a gayageum teacher who also, coincidentally, had pansori training, and we began negotiating lesson times and fees. A number of his students, mostly middle-aged women dressed in hanbok (traditional Korean upper-class dress) and with highly made-up faces, were in the studio at the time. The teacher patiently explained through our translator (my colleague) that I could not learn pansori at the beginning, that I would need to begin with minyo. I was disappointed but I acquiesced. He also stated that I would need to buy an instrument (approximately $1200CDN) and set out his lesson fees. His basic fee was approximately $250CDN per month for one weekly lesson. If I wanted to learn minyo as well as gayageum, the fee would be double, even if the amount of teaching time was the same. I told him that I thought this was unusual—I expected to pay by the hour, as is usual in Canada,  9 not by the topics covered—but he stood firm. By this time, I was rethinking my intentions, and told the teacher that I would think about it.  A couple of days later, the same colleague arranged a meeting for me with a local pungmul team, Soseum Pungmulgutpae. The members of the team were young—approximately my age (I was around 27 at the time)—and dressed in t- shirts and “lifestyle” hanbok pants (a modern and very comfortable form of the traditional hanbok for men). Lesson fees were $50 per month for the first two months and $25 after that. They had instruments for students to use, and I could come to the studio anytime to practice—they kept the keys in a basket beside the door. I had already witnessed pungmul at a festival, and was not particularly impressed—I ignorantly thought it looked easy and not musically interesting—but I liked the people I met in the studio and the price was right, so I decided to give it a try. Needless to say, I quickly overcame my initial impression of the music. For the next six years, I would continue to learn and practice pungmul and its more modern offspring samulnori, and this thesis is a direct result of that initial encounter.  When I returned to Korea in 2007, the first people I contacted were Kim Dongho and his partner Choi Gyeong-a, two long-term members of Soseum, and I spent most of the summer at the Soseum studio. I also was fortunate to spend many enjoyable occasions in 2007 eating, drinking and playing music with members of the Cheonan municipal pungmul team.  10 Back to 2002. I started out learning janggu, the Korean hourglass drum, but was also interested in melody, and asked my teachers—who were quickly becoming friends as well—what they would recommend. The leader of the group, Mr. Kang (actually, we called him hyeong—‘brother’—as he was the oldest among us), had just started learning taepyeongso, and suggested that I get one and that we could practice together after the regular classes. Dongho also put me in contact with a teacher in the neighbouring city of Cheonan who could give me lessons. Thus, I began travelling by intercity bus to Cheonan once a week to take lessons on taepyeongso and, later, piri (double-reed bamboo pipe).  With my ‘brother’, I practiced scales, breathing, and simple melodies such as “Baetnorae”, “Arirang”, and “Neunggye”. We would normally begin by playing long breaths on each of the main tones, slowly moving up and down the scale. While circular breathing is not a feature of taepyeongso playing, being able to play long melodic phrases in a single breath is considered a key skill. We would also practice vibrato, utilizing both stomach and lip muscles. Finally, we would practice melodies, sometimes—for my benefit—using western notation as a reference.  My teacher in Cheonan—whose name I’ve inexcusably forgotten—showed me how to make reeds out of plastic drinking straws using sandpaper and scissors (an important skill for any taepyeongso player), how to ornament and how to feel the melodies, and how to read Sino-Korean notation (often used to teach piri  11 pieces, less commonly for taepyeongso). My Korean was very limited, and neither my teacher nor the members of Soseum could speak much English, but we found ways to communicate what was necessary, as humans will. The teacher also emphasized breathing and vibrato, and he would demonstrate how tones could be played using various fingerings (more integral to piri than taepyeongso playing), with each fingering slightly altering the timbre. He also introduced the practice of ornamenting notes by very quickly ‘tapping’ the fingerhole before descending to a new note (more on this technique later).  When I returned in 2007, I again took lessons on taepyeongso, this time from a member of the Cheonan municipal pungmul team (again, I have to thank Dongho for introducing me to her), as well as from a junior instructor at the National Center for Korean Traditional Performing Arts (NCKTPA) in Seoul. In both instances, lessons focused on Neunggye Gutgeori—the most common “starting” piece for taepyeongso players—with an emphasis on ornamentation (especially vibrato and ‘tapping’), variation, and timing/feel. I had played the instrument somewhat regularly between visits to Korea but, in the absence of anybody to correct my mistakes, had developed numerous bad habits which needed correction. In addition, I was faced with learning new fingerings, as the two teachers I studied with in 2007 used different fingerings from each other and from the previous teacher in Cheonan (I will discuss this more in a later section).   12 Back in Vancouver again, I was fortunate to meet Kim Dongwon, an amateur but skilled musician who plays taepyeongso along with a number of other instruments. We have had the opportunity to collaborate and perform together, and he has helped me in a number of ways in preparing this thesis, for which I am very grateful.  Writings about Taepyeongso Written sources in English are scarce. There are no books, journal articles, dissertations, theses, or internet sites focusing exclusively on taepyeongso. The instrument is mentioned and discussed briefly in a number of books, such as those produced by the NCKTPA which introduce western readers to Korean music and culture. Nathan Hesselink’s Pungmul (2006) devotes a few paragraphs of background to the instrument, as does Keith Howard’s Korean Musical Instruments: A Practical Guide (1988). Lee Byong-Won’s Buddhist Music of Korea (1987) provides brief analyses of taepyeongso playing in Buddhist ceremonial music and dance, as well as some important details about the players. Maria Seo, in Hanyang Gut (2002), and Lee Yong-Shik in Shaman Ritual Music in Korea (2004), provide some context for taepyeongso playing in shaman rituals. Keith Howard has an interesting, although speculative, discussion on daechwita—royal processional music usually featuring two taepyeongso—in Bands, Songs and Shamanistic Rituals (1989), and further context for taepyeongso in court music is provided by Song Kyong-Rin in “Korean Musical Instruments” (in Survey of Korean Arts: Traditional Music, 1973). As indicated  13 earlier, one of my purposes in writing this paper is to gather together in one source the information relating to taepyeongso currently dispersed among diverse sources.  Mode and regional styles are of particular relevance to my topic, and a number of books and articles provide detailed discussion on these topics. Hwang Jun- yeon’s “Modes and Scales of Korean Music” (2005) provides an excellent overview, as does So Inhwa in “Aspects of Korean Melody” (in Theoretical Perspectives on Korean Traditional Music, 2002). Han [Hahn] Man-young provides an informative overview of modes used in folk music in the mis-titled chapter “The Mode of Folksongs in Eastern Korea” (in Kugak: Studies in Korean Traditional Music, 1990), while Lee Hye-Ku provides a detailed but largely incomprehensible discussion on the origins of modes in Chapters 4-6 of his Essays on Traditional Korean Music (translated by Robert Provine, 1981). One other useful source, this one focusing on the term jo, a complex but central term related to Korean modes, is Lee Kang-Sook’s “An Essay on Korean Modes” (1978), an article which also, incidentally, helps to clarify some of Lee Hye-Ku’s difficult-to-navigate descriptions.  Other important sources for written information in English are CD liner notes which, while not noteworthy for the quantity of detail, provide—often in charmingly imperfect English—key details rarely mentioned in other sources,  14 such as the origins of particular melodies, relationships between styles and players, and so on.  Korean-language materials, while not extensive, are certainly more substantial than English-language materials. Again, there are, to my knowledge, no full- length books or dissertations, but there are a small number of journal articles as well as several master’s theses devoted to the instrument. Noteworthy articles include Go Boyun’s overview of taepyeongso playing in pungmul “풍물놀이를 위한 태평소 지도반” (2002), and an interesting, although not especially relevant to my purpose, acoustical analysis of taepyeongso sound production by Byeon Jungbae, et al, entitled (in English) “Extraction of Characteristics Corresponding to Bell of Taepyeongso Based on Acoustical Analysis” (2007).  Master’s theses are both more numerous—an encouraging sign which points to more scholarship to come—and more directly relevant to my topic. The list includes: 불교 의식과 태평소에 관한 연구 [a study of Buddhist ritual and taepyeongso] by Jeong Namgeun (2001); 영산재에 연주되는 태평소 가락 분석 [analysis of taepyeongso melodies for yeongsanje] by Kim Wonseon (1999); 태평소 시나위 선율분석 연구:박종선류를 중심으로 [analysis of Bak Jongseon’s sinawi] by Bak Gyeonghyeon (2004); 태평소와 사물놀이를 위한 관현악;"푸리" [“puri” for taepyeongso and samulnori] by Hwang Uijong (1991); 한국 전통음악의 연구: 박범훈류 피리산조, 대풍류, 태평소시나위를 중심으로 [study of Korean  15 traditional music: connections between Bak Beomhun’s taepyeongso sinawi, piri sanjo, and daepungnyu] by Yu Gyeongsu (1998);대취타 변천과정에 대한 연구:태평소 선율을 중심으로 [study of the evolution of taepyeongso melody in daechwita] by Kang Yeonggeun (1998); 능게굿거리 선율 비교 분석 :지영희, 최경만 선율을 중심으로 [comparison of Choi Gyeongman’s and Ji Yeonghi’s neunggye gutgeori] by Kim Seongyeop (2005); and 동 서양의 겹 리드악기의 발전과 역사적 고찰 [development and history of double reed instruments in Korea and the west] by Kim Gi-nam (2004). I include this list primarily to indicate the breadth of scholarship that has been done and as a reference for other scholars. My current fluency in Korean limits how much of this research I am able to incorporate into this paper and, in some instances, access to these theses was restricted by the holding institutions.  An important, but somewhat problematic, source for information is “Daum” (, a Korean internet portal which allows users to create and moderate forums (or “gapae” [cafés]) on diverse topics. Access to these forums is limited to South Korean nationals as registration requires a national identification number. One of these forums is devoted entirely to taepyeongso, and contains a great deal of useful content, some created by forum participants, and some taken from copyrighted sources. A number of recordings and videos, as well as transcriptions in both Korean and western notation, can also be accessed through the forum. Original sources for the materials are often not mentioned, making citation in an academic paper such as this problematic.  16 Nevertheless, for amateur players, this is the primary source for information (outside of living teachers, of course). In Chapter 2 of this paper, I list key players and teachers of taepyeongso along with some background information, with much of the information being gleaned, with the help of my friend Kim Dongwon, from this forum. In Chapter 3, I translate and summarize two articles describing individual tones and their extra-musical associations written by Kim Seonghak, an amateur player and active contributor to the forum.  Liner notes, again, are not noteworthy for the quantity of details, but for the unique details not available through other sources.  Having described my own experience and approach, and listed the sources used in this paper, I turn now, finally, to the instrument itself and the players who play it.            17 CHAPTER 2: THE INSTRUMENT  Introduction In this chapter, I present a basic background to the instrument—information generally known to taepyeongso players, but which I present for the sake of readers less familiar with the instrument. The topics covered include the history, classification and construction of the instrument, the contexts in which the instrument is played, and the players who play them. I also provide a short description of how the instrument is played, so that the non-playing reader will be better able to understand and appreciate the more technical musical analyses presented in later chapters.  History and Construction Figure 1, below, shows what the instrument looks like and its constituent parts. There are seven fingerholes on the front, of which only the upper five are normally used, and one in the back, which the left thumb covers at all times. Various types of wood are used, including jujube (Howard 1995, 55), citron wood, and yellow mulberry wood (Yun 1998, 33). I have heard, anectodotally, that ebony taepyeongo are highly prized. Construction today is standardized, and most are imported from China, although one might imagine that in the past there must have been considerable variations in the construction. More expensive  18 instruments can usually be taken completely apart for cleaning or replacement, while with cheaper instruments, only the bell and tassel can be removed. Figure 1: The Taepyeongso and its Parts   As we will see in following chapters, naming can be problematic when discussing taepyeongso melodies. Likewise, the instrument itself is known by a number of names, including taepyeongso (Sino-Korean; ‘great peace pipe’), hojeok (Sino- Korean; ‘reed instrument of the Xianjiang people’), saenap/swenap (probably a transliteration of suona), and nallari/nalnari (pure Korean; onomatopoeic). The  19 term saenap was adopted as the official term for educational use by the National Centre for the Traditional Korean Arts (Yun 1998, 33), but is the least commonly encountered in my personal experience, and NCKTPA’s website ( now uses the term taepyeongso. The term nallari/nalnari tends to be associated with popular entertainment (especially pungmul), rather than ritual use. Because taepyeongso seems to be—at least in my experience— the term most widely recognized by non-playing Koreans, I have chosen to use it here, although any of the terms could have served equally well.  Under the Hornbostl-Sachs system of classification, taepyeongso would be designated 422.112: an oboe with a conical bore (Hornbostl and Sachs 1961, 27). Indigenous classification systems in Korea categorize instruments by use/origin and by material. Classification by materials—called pal eum, or “eight tones”—is based on Chinese classification theory, and was used as the basis of the oft- cited 1908 document Jeungbomunheonbigo (in So 2002, 41). In this document, taepyeongso is classified as bamboo, perhaps to reflect its similarity to piri, another double reed instrument. In later classifications based on pal eum, however, such as Kim Gisu’s Gugak Ipmun (1983), taepyeongso is sometimes reclassified as wood (So 2002, 47). The remaining six materials in this system are metal, silk, skin, stone, gourd, and clay (Howard 1995, 16).  ‘Classification by use’ derives from the Goryeosa (History of Goryeo, 1451) in which instruments were categorized according to whether they were used in a-ak  20 (ritual music of Chinese origin), tang-ak (secular music of Chinese origin), and/or sogak (indigenous music), with some instruments being included in more than one category. Meanwhile, in the Akhakgwebeom, the encyclopedic 1493 treatise on music, instruments are similarly classified under the categories a-ak, tang-ak, and hyang-ak (indigenous music), but here instruments are placed in only one category, suggesting an ‘origin’-based scheme rather than a ‘use’-based scheme. In this treatise, noteworthy for containing the earliest written mention of taepyeongso in Korea, taepyeongso appears—together with janggu, haegeum (spiked fiddle), ajaeng (bowed zither) and other instruments widely used in Korean folk traditions today—under tang-ak (Song 1973, 29).  The precise date of the instrument’s introduction to Korea is unknown. It seems to not have been included in the historically significant gift of instruments given to the Goryeo-era king Yejeong by the Sung emperor Hui-tsung in 1114, although similar instruments are mentioned, including “twenty oboes…with thin wooden tablets bound with gold and silver threads, red silk mattresses, and purple silk hyoppokcha” (in Song 1980, 145). As indicated, the earliest mention of taepyeongso is in the 1493 Akhakgwebeom. The alternative name hojeok— referring to the peoples of the Xianjiang region of Northwest China (Howard 1995, 54) where the instrument is believed to have been introduced during the third to fifth centuries (Ben 2002, 113)—suggests a possible route for the instrument’s introduction to Korea.   21 The common Chinese term for the instrument (suona) seems, like shennai of India and the Cambodian sralai, to be a transliteration of zurna, the Persian shawm. As suggested above, the Sino-Korean term ‘saenap’ is likely another variation of this term. In any case, similar instruments have travelled widely from their purported roots in Persia (see Dick 1984, 80-81)—to Cuba, where it is known as the trompeta china and is used in carnival festivities (; to Spain, where it is known as the dulzaina (Baines 1952, 9); to Kenya, where it is the bung’o or nzumari (Hyslop 1975, 44); to Croatia, where it is the sopila (; and so on. The instrument’s loud, wailing cry lends itself to outdoor, public occasions, and it tends to be accompanied—in Korea and elsewhere—by drums and other percussion instruments.  In North Korea, a new jang-saenap with oboe-like keys, a mellower sound, and an extended range has been developed. There is at least one CD available in the South of this instrument—Choi Yeongdeok’s Jang-saenap Dokju-kogjip—whose tracks include renditions of “Amazing Grace” and “Polovtsian Dances from Opera” (  Playing the Instrument The instrument is played by placing the lips completely over the reed, pressing them against the rim of the mouthpiece (dong-gu). The teachers I have had instructed me to not use the tongue to block the flow of air at any point when  22 playing, but other teachers may disagree. Hand positions and fingering methods definitely do vary by teacher. Figures 2a and 2b show two different ways of holding the instrument (basic position for melodies of the central region). When playing melodies of the southwest region, some players use a different fingering position, as in Figure 2c. Generally, only the upper five of the seven front holes are used. Occasionally, the hole immediately below is used, producing a tone which can alternatively be produced by adjusting the position of the lips and mouth. Figure 2: Three ways to Hold the Taepyeongso a.        b.             c.   23 In the following chapter, I look more closely at how melodies are represented— as notes on a western staff versus indigenous vocables (gu-eum), for instance. Here, it will suffice to give an approximate note value to each fingering position using the familiar western note names (since the thumb always covers the back hole, I do not show it here). Precise pitch depends on player and style and is affected by the reed, the instrument, and the embouchure. Figure 3: Basic Taepyeongso Tuning Using Western Note Values ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ○ ● ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ○ ● ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ Ab A B C D E F *G~A Darkened circles indicate covered holes.  The instrument is capable of covering two full octaves, but is normally confined to about a major tenth. Figure 4, below, shows a common fingering system for central region melodies, with the main register in black, the upper octave in blue, and outer extremes in red (L1 refers to left index finger, L2 to left middle, etc.). Note the differences in range and fingering for in southwestern region melodies shown in Figure 5.     24 Figure 4: Basic Fingering System for Central Region Melodies L1 L2 R1 R2 R3 R4 -- ● ● ● ● ● ● ○ ● ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ○ ● ● ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ● ● ● ○ ● ○ ○ ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○  A B C E F G B’ C’ E’ F’ G’ Black: main register; blue: upper octave; red: outer extremes. L1 = left index finger; L2 = left ring finger; R1 = right index finger, etc.. Figure 5: Basic Fingering System for Southwestern Region Melodies L1 L2 L3 R1 R2 R3 ● ● ● ● ● ● ○ ● ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ● ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ● ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○  Ab B *D~C E F A B’ D E’ F’ A’ *The so-called ‘breaking voice’—a sliding appoggiatura produced by adjusting the embouchure  While taking lessons, I frequently was taught different playing methods by different teachers. For example, I would learn one fingering system from one teacher, only to be told by the next that the system I had learned was “wrong”. With regards to taepyeongso specifically, the differences usually involved  25 fingering and ornamentation. Simply put, taepyeongso playing technique has not been standardized and one is likely to receive conflicting information from different teachers.  Making a Reed (seo) In the past, reeds were made of the stem of river reeds (galdae) hollowed out, repeatedly steamed and dried, sanded down and shaped, and bound at the bottom with thread to hold it firmly to the mouthpiece. Today, most players use pieces of plastic drinking straws. Figure 6: Galtae reed (left) and plastic reed (right)   To my knowledge, drinking straws are used for this purpose only in Korea. I have asked several teachers how the practice began, and it was explained that drinking straws reeds work and sound just as well—indeed, the sound is brighter and clearer—and are much easier to make. I haven’t been able to determine  26 when this practice started. Certainly, it is a lucky coincidence that the straws fit the instrument, a circumstance which has changed recently as drinking straw manufacturers have changed the width of the straws and most straws no longer fit. How taepyeongso players will respond to this unexpected challenge will be interesting to see. Some players prefer to use harder plastic, others look for softer plastic. The basic process is as follows:  1. Cut a piece of drinking straw to fit. The length depends on individual tastes— longer reeds make a lower sound and shorter reeds a higher sound. 2. Cut the corners off the top. 3. Flatten the reed in order to make two sharp edges. 4. Wrap a piece of fine grain sandpaper around the index finger or the instrument (to make a curved surface). 5. Gently sand the flat part of the straw. Count how many strokes you execute on each side to maintain consistency. Test and sand as needed. Generally, a softer, thinner reed will be easier to produce sounds initially, but a certain degree of firmness is required to hit higher notes and manipulate the sound fully.  A good reed, even one made of a drinking straw, is a prized possession, and making a good reed can be a time-consuming process which, in my case, frequently ends in failure (thereby diminishing my precious supply of “good” drinking straws).   27 Figure 7: The Taepyeongso Player’s Toolbox: scissors, fine sandpaper, reed case, extra straws   Contexts The contexts in which taepyeongso is used are limited by its high volume. One simply cannot play it softly. Thus, it is rarely used with voice or other melodic instruments, but frequently with drums, and almost always played outdoors. Below, I list the typical musical contexts in which taepyeongso is used in Korea.  Royal Processions (Daechwita) The Sino-Korean term chwita literally means ‘blowing and hitting’, while the prefix dae- means ‘great’. Daechwita was used in processions—for example—for the  28 “opening and closing of the gate to military headquarters” with a louder band (featuring taepyeongso) preceding the king and a softer one (featuring piri) following (Lee 1969, 3).  Confucian Ritual Taepyeongso is used only in three songs—“Somu”, “Punung” and “Yeonggwan” (Seo 2002, 206)—of the “Jeongdae-eop” [praise of the military accomplishments of Korean leaders] section performed by the courtyard ensemble during “Jongmyojerye-ak” (ritual music for Korean ancestors) (So 2002, 43).  Buddhist Ritual Taepyeongso is used to accompany ritual dance as part of the outdoor band— jorachi or gyeongnaechwi—together with a large gong, cymbals, a barrel drum and an optional long trumpet and a conch shell (Lee 1987, 35-37).  Shaman Ritual According to most sources, taepyeongso is not a central instrument in shaman ritual music. Maria Seo reports that taepyeongso is not a traditional part of Hanyang Gut (ritual) of Seoul and is used only in specific situations: “The instrument is often played when several gut are in progress simultaneously. The piri player often switches to taepyeongso, producing a louder sound so that his own group of ritual specialists can follow the music better” (2002, 130). Seo also mentions ssang hojeok (a pair hojeok, that is, taepyeongso) played  29 simultaneously (130), and the use of seven (!) taepyeongso played simultaneously during a portion of the ritual in which her informant walked on knife blades (179).  Lee Yong-Shik makes similar observations with regards to Hwanghae rituals: “The use of these instruments (piri and taepyeongso) is limited to large-scale public performances. Hwanghae shamans tend to avoid the use of these melodic instruments in ritual practice because they think that such use would revise the ritual to festive celebration” (Lee 2004, 60). Lee further points out that the taepyeongso is not included in the samhyeonyukgak chamber ensemble used to accompany both shaman rituals and court dances in Seoul and Gyeonggi province (61-62).  In the southwest, the taepyeongso is again an optional instrument in the sinawi ensemble of southwest region shaman ritual (Pratt 1987, 47; Lee 2004, 62). In the east, Taepyeongso was reintroduced into, and used frequently by, Kim Seokchul in Donghae-an Byeolsingut (east coast purification ritual), but has been discontinued since his passing.  In brief, taepyeongso is used more as an effect than a core instrument in shaman ritual music, a situation made possible by the fact that the professional musicians who accompany shaman rituals are multi-instrumentalists, able to easily switch from one instrument to another.  30 Pungmul and Associated Contexts The primary context in which taepyeongso is featured is during pungmul and other Namsadang (professional travelling entertainment troupe) activities, such as tightrope-walking and acrobatics. During my last visit to Korea, I witnessed the regular Saturday performance of Anseong Namsadang, during which taepyeongso was played almost continuously. Similarly, when I attended the 2007 national pungmul competition held annually in Jeongeup, taepyeongso was used by all but one group. There is considerable overlap in the repertoire used for pungmul-based taepyeongso playing with shamanist and Buddhist ritual taepyeongso playing—indeed, it is often the same musicians involved. In any case, the following two chapters are based largely on the pungmul repertoire.  Sanjo Taepyeongso Sanjo, developed primarily by Bang Taejin, is closely related to, and sometimes used synonymously with, Taepyeongso Sinawi, one of Kim Seokchul’s specialties. Both are virtuosic displays of playing southwestern-based melodies accompanied by janggu (hourglass drum) in a number of jangdan (rhythmic patterns). A more recent form of virtuosic display modeled largely on Taepyeongso Sanjo/Sinawi is the popular ‘Taepyeongso and Samulnori’ (percussion quartet) (there are several variations on the title: “Hojeok and Samul”, “Taepyeongso Sinawi”, etc.). Taepyeongso Sanjo/Sinawi always uses the southwestern melodic style, but ‘Taepyeongso and Samulnori’ on occasion uses other types.  31 New Music and Fusion Taepyeongso is used frequently on new music and fusion recordings. In these contexts, taepyeongso may play western melodies, newly-composed melodies, and/or traditional melodies. The primary uses of taepyeongso here may be categorized as follows:  1. as a replacement for western instruments (usually trumpet) in western music- based ensembles; 2. in combination with western instruments in neo-traditional ensembles; 3. as orchestral instruments in national music orchestras, such as the KBS Orchestra; 4. as one element in a fusion of more than one type of Korean music; 5. as a venue for experimental music.  Players Taepyeongso players are multi-instrumentalists, with taepyeongso often being a fifth or sixth instrument for many players. Lee Seng Gang, for example, is best known as a daegeum (flute with attached membrane) player, Bak Jongsan as an ajaeng (bowed zither) specialist, and Lee Jongdae as a piri (double reed pipe) virtuoso. Heo Yong-eop is a master of piri, daegeum and haegeum (spiked fiddle) in addition to taepyeongso. Nearly all taepyeongso players play piri, a function of the similarity between the two instruments.   32 As I discuss in the following chapter, there are three recognized regional styles of taepyeongso playing, each related closely to other forms of folk music of the three regions: gyeong-tori or neunggye (central region), sinawi (southwestern region), and menari (eastern region). Today, these are national styles—a pungmul group from a certain region may well feature taepyeongso melodies from another region. Individual players are often associated with a particular regional style—for example, Bak Jongseon with sinawi and Heo Yongeop with gyeong-tori styles—but most advanced players will have learned the common repertoire of all styles. Interestingly, no player is primarily associated with menari (eastern) melodies.  A number of players are associated with the Korean “Important Intangible Cultural Properties” system, but there are no designated properties specifically for taepyeongso melodies. Since a number of arts which may include taepyeongso are designated, a number of taepyeongso players are included as members of these asset teams—not always specifically as taepyeongso players, however. Kim Jeomseok, for example, is among the members of #104 (Seoul Saenam Gut), but not specifically as a taepyeongso player since he might play a number of instruments during the ritual.  A more important, but less formal, type of designation for taepyeongso players is that of sasa, ‘master’. Typically, at least in the past, an advanced student would be invited to live with his or her master for a number of years, performing  33 together with the master and assisting him or her in all aspects of life. At some point, the disciple (jaeja) would, in turn, be recognized as a master and take on his own disciples. Naturally, these masters played a number of instruments, and so a disciple could learn all of these instruments from a single teacher.  Alternatively, and more commonly today, players may be simply students of one or several masters, taking private lessons and living separately. The teacher I studied with in Seoul was a student of Choi Gyeongman, while the teacher from the Cheonan municipal pungmul team was a student of Heo Yong-eop. Below, I list some past and present taepyeongso masters. The list is not definitive—sasa is not a formal designation, after all—but it does include the best known players in Korea. I owe thanks to Kim Dongwon for the bulk of this information.  최인서 / Choi Inseo (1892-1978) ƒ The original holder of Important Intangible Cultural Property #46 (Piri Jeongak and Daechwita) ƒ Associated with gyeong-tori melodies ƒ Former NCKTPA instructor ƒ Disciple and successor of Im Wonsik; student of Bak O-sun from whom he learned to make his own instruments ƒ Students include Kim Taeseop, Jeong Jaeguk, Im Wonsik, Heo Yong-eop and Kim Jeomseok   34 방태근(진) / Bang Tegeun or Tejin (1901-?) ƒ Associated with sinawi melodies ƒ Disciples include Kim Seokchul, Song Boksan, Lee Seng-gang and Seo Yongseok  지영희 / Ji Yeonghui (1909-1980) ƒ Holder of Gyeonggi regional property for Gyeonggi Sinawi ƒ Associated with sinawi melodies ƒ Charter member of NCKTPA ƒ Co-founder of School of Korean Traditional Arts ƒ Master of Piri and Haegeum Sanjo ƒ Respected scholar and author of several influential publications  송복산 / Song Boksan (1911-1984) ƒ Original holder of Property #3 (Namsadang Nori) ƒ Associated with gyeong-tori melodies ƒ Primary taepyeongso player for Seoul Namsadang for over 20 years ƒ Disciple of Bang Taejin  김태섭 / Kim Taeseop (1922-1992) ƒ Original member of Property #1 (Rites for the Korean Ancestors) ƒ Associated with Confucian ritual music   35 김석출 / Kim Seokchul (1922-2005) ƒ Holder of Property #82-Ga (Donghaean Byeolsingut) ƒ Associated with Taepyeongso Sanjo/Sinawi and a unique improvisational style incorporating three regional styles ƒ Teachers include Yeom Sangtae, Kim Jaesu, Bang Taejin and his uncle Kim Beomsu  한일섭 / Han Ilseop (1929-1973) ƒ Associated with sinawi melodies, best known for Ajaeng Sanjo and pansori accompaniment ƒ Former teacher at School of Korean Traditional Arts and Chief Accompanist at Yeongseong Gukgeukdan (Traditional Arts Theatre) ƒ Student of Seong Wonmok and Lee Dongbaek  이생강 / Lee Seng-gang (1937-present) ƒ Holder of property #45 (Daegeum Sanjo) ƒ Associated with sinawi melodies, master of taepyeongso, daegeum and piri ƒ Teachers included Ji Yeonghui, Bang Taejin, Han Ilseop,  이성옥 / Lee Seok-ok (1938-present) ƒ Associated with sinawi melodies ƒ Disciple of Bang Tae-jin   36 김점석 / Kim Jeomseok (1939-present) ƒ Member of property #104 (Seoul Saenamgut) ƒ Associated with gyeong-tori melodies; master of taepyeongso, daegeum, danso (end-blown flute), piri, haegeum ƒ Has performed regularly with Heo Yong-eop  서용석 / Seo Yongseok (1940-present) ƒ Associated with sinawi and Buddhist ritual melodies ƒ Disciple of Bang Taejin  박종선 / Bak Jongseon (1941-present) ƒ Associated with sinawi melodies ƒ Best known for Ajaeng Sanjo; master of taepyeongso, daegeum, kayageum, ajaeng, janggu and buk (barrel drum) ƒ Disciple of Han Ilseop ƒ Former senior instructor at NCKTPA  정재국 / Jeong Jaeguk (1942-present) ƒ Holder of Property #46 (Piri Jeongak and Daechwita) ƒ Director of School of Traditional Korean Culture  김구해스님 Kim Guhe-seu-nim (born Kim Insik) (1943-present) ƒ Successor (junbo-yuja) to  Property #50 (Yeongsanjae)  37 ƒ Became Buddhist monk at age 16 ƒ Disciple of Song-am-seu-nim  허용업 / Heo Yong-eop (1947-present) ƒ Member of Gyeonggi regional Property #15 (Dodang Gut) ƒ Associated with gyeong-tori melodies; master of taepyeongso, piri, haegeum and daegeum ƒ Student of Choi Inseo, Lee Chungseon and Ji Yeonghi ƒ Participating member of Seoul Saenamgut (with Kim Jeomseok)  최경만 / Choi Gyeongman (1947) ƒ Associated with gyeong-tori melodies; master of piri and taepyeongso ƒ Instructor at NCKTPA ƒ Disciple of Ji Yeonghui  원장현 / Won Janghyeon (1950-present) ƒ Holder of Property #16 (Gomungo Sanjo) ƒ Master of taepyeongso, daegeum and gomungo ƒ Senior instructor at NCKTPA ƒ Student of Han Ilseob and Kim Dongjin ƒ Father of Won Woncheol   38 CHAPTER 3: MODES AND MELODIES  Modes, Styles and Other Theoretical Constructs It is commonly said that there are three regionally-based taepyeongso styles: neunggye (Gyeonggi province and surrounding regions, including Seoul), menari (eastern regions), and sinawi (southwestern regions). In relation to taepyeongso playing, these terms are on an equal taxonomic level—they each designate a general style associated with a particular region. Yet, these designations have additional connotations as well: sinawi is a complex term associated with shaman ritual music, particularly in the southwestern regions; menari, or menari-jo, is a theoretically-constructed mode in eastern folk music; and neunggye is, more precisely, the name of a particular melody for taepyeongso, one of many from the central region. Unlike the terms menari and sinawi, neunggye is used only in the context of taepyeongso playing. Interestingly, none of these terms have a common, everyday meaning—their origins are obscure.  In this chapter, I look at these three melodic styles in the context of the theoretical framework of Korean modes. Two additional regional styles, susimga- tori (in present-day North Korea) and Jeju Island melodies, I do not consider here for lack of information—I have simply not heard a taepyeongso melody from these areas.   39 Modes in Korea are a complicated subject, partly due to imprecise and overlapping terminology, and also due to the non-standardized nature of Korean folk music. Before looking at actual melodies, therefore, I provide an overview of theoretical thought on modes in Korea, and attempt to begin the process of disentangling the key terminology in use. Representing Korean melodies in notation can also be problematic—I provide some background to issues relating to notation in Korea, and make transparent some of the decisions I made in the process of transcribing and notating these melodies. First, let’s look at some of the key theoretical terminology.  Key Terminology Jo (-조) Jo is a ubiquitous Sino-Korean term (actually suffix) meaning something like ‘mode’ in English. The suffix can be affixed to both melodic types (i.e. gyemyeonjo and pyeongjo) and rhythmic patterns (i.e. jinyangjo). Jo also encompasses key (i.e. ujo vs pyeongjo) and mood (the emotive qualities of melodic types). In terms of genre, the suffix is closely associated with modes in court music, pansori and sanjo (another instance of jo—in this case meaning ‘mountain melodies’). Menari is frequently referred to as menarijo.      40 Tori (-토리) Tori, a pure Korean suffix, also denotes mode but emphasizes regional differences. Thus, gyeong-tori refers to the melodic mode of Gyeonggi province. In certain usages, -tori is synonymous with -jo (i.e. menaritori = menarijo).  Je (제) Je is another suffix referring to mode, this time associated especially with pansori (i.e. seopyeonje, dongpyeonje). Occasionally, like –tori, it is used to refer to regional melodic modes (i.e. gyeonggije = gyeonggitori).  Garak (가락) Garak refers to rhythm pattern or, less commonly, melody. Neunggye is often referred to as neunggye-garak.  Taryeong (타령) Among other things, taryeong is: a) The common name of a specific melody also referred to as heoteuntaryeong (will be examined in the following chapter); b) The name of a specific rhythmic pattern (often used to accompany the melody heoteuntaryeong); c) A suffix placed after the name of any song, especially songs of Gyeonggi province, meaning ‘melody’ (i.e. Neunggye-taryeong, Changbu-taryeong).   41 Jangdan (장단) Jangdan refers to rhythmic patterns and is sometimes synonymous with garak. Taepyeongso melodies and variations are sometimes named after jangdan (i.e. Gutgeori) or, more commonly, have a jangdan affixed to their name (i.e. Neunggye Jajinmori).  Neunggye (능계) Neunggye refers to either a particular taepyeongso melody, a set of taepyeongso melodies, or a generic category which encompasses all taepyeongso melodies from the central region.  In this paper, for the sake of consistency and clarity, I choose certain terms over others, while recognizing that other terms may be used. To refer to a regional melodic mode, I use –tori (i.e. gyeong-tori instead of gyeonggije, menari-tori instead of menarijo). When referring to modes in other contexts, I use –jo. When referring to individual melodies of Gyeonggi province, I use the suffix –taryeong (i.e. neunggyetaryeong instead of neunggyegarak). I reserve the use of the term neunggye for a particular melody, use the general term gyeong-tori to refer to modes of the central region, and use more specific names for other gyeong-tori melodies (i.e. Giltaryeong, Changbutaryeong, Heoteuntaryeong). When referring to rhythmic patterns, I use the term jangdan (i.e. gutgeori jangdan instead of gutgeori garak). When referring to the melody known as Taryeong, I use the  42 more specific name Heoteuntaryeong. When referring to the rhythm known as taryeong, I add the suffix jangdan (taryeong jangdan)  Early History of Modes in Korea As indicated already, mode in the Korean context is an extremely complex topic, and there is no clear, definitive approach to the subject. In order to maintain some clarity in my own narrative, I have chosen to rely on a few select sources. Two sources have been particularly useful: So Inhwa’s chapter entitled “Aspects of Korean Melody” in Theoretical Perspectives on Korean Traditional Music (2002), and Hwang Jun-yeon’s chapter entitled “The Modes and Scales of Korean Music” in Hanguk jeontongeumakui akjo (2005). I supplement these sources when needed, but much of the following discussion is derived from these two excellent sources.  The authors of the Akhakgwebeom discuss at length both Korean and Chinese modal theory, or at least Chinese theory as it was interpreted by the investigators at the time (see Provine 1974 for a good background to this). In this Chinese- influenced musical theory, the octave was divided into twelve tones based on the cycle of fifths. Using the Korean pronunciation of the Chinese characters, the twelve pitches (or yul) were named: Hwangjong (yellow bell; approximately Eb), Daeryo (greatest tube; E), Taeju (great frame; F), Hyeopjeong (pressed bell; Gb), Goseon (old, purified; G), Jungryeo (mean tube, Ab), Yubin (luxuriant vegetation, A), Imjong (forest bell; Bb), Ichik (equalizing rule; B), Namryeo (southern tube; C),  43 Muyeok (not determined; Db), and Eungjong (answering bell; D) (So 2002, 53) (bolded syllables are those in current usage in notation and oral mnemonics for taepyeongso).  The Akhakgwebeom also discusses the five anhemitonic pentatonic modes of Chinese musical theory—in Sino-Korean called kungjo, sangjo, gakjo, chijo and ujo—each consisting of five tones (Song 1980, 34). Each mode can have as its tonal centre (gung) any of the twelve tones, resulting in 60 (12X5) possible permutations, with some permutations preferred over others: “The [Imjeong] corresponds originally to the [chijo] which is one of the fundamental sounds of the universe. When the [Imjeong] tonal center is used in music, one gets the right musical relations between king and minister; all creatures on earth keep their tempers; four prosperous seasons happen; and there is always a favorable climate…in the ujo of our country, [Muyeok] is the tonal center…the mode cannot be used because the sound of the second degree, representing the minister, is improperly more substantial than the sound of the king. Our nation enjoys using this mode, but it is inappropriate” (Song 1980, 36).  In addition to these five Chinese modes, the Akhakgwebeom discusses a number of modes of Korean origin, including naksijo, ujo (not the Chinese ujo mode), pyeongjo, kyemyeonjo, harimjo, choejo, and dangmokjo. According to Lee Hye-Ku, the terms naksijo and ujo originally referred to the tonal centre of the mode rather than modes themselves (Lee 1981, 56), but this is speculative.  44 While in Chinese musical theory, modes can start on any of the twelve tones derived from the circle of fifths, for Korean modes there are only seven keys listed. Naksijo (lower) keys include those whose tonal centre is Hyeopjong, Jungryeo, Imjong, or Ichik/Namryeo, while ujo (higher) keys include those whose tonal centre is Ichik/Namryeo, Muyeok, Hwangjong, Daeryeo or Taeju. When pyeongjo is used to refer to key, it is synonymous with naksijo (So 2002, 94).  In some cases, the Korean modes apparently correspond to one of the five Chinese modes; specifically, pyeongjo is equated with chijo, and gyemyeonjo is equated with ujo (Song 1980, 38). Hwang Jun-yeon disputes this on the basis of a different placement of the gung (tonal centre): “More important than the fact that the Korean tonal system uses only five notes as opposed to the Chinese twelve tones is that, among the low notes to the high notes of the scale, the center note is the [gung], located in the middle of the scale…the placement of the [gung] not only proves the uniqueness of [pyeongjo] and [gyemyeonjo], but also displays the contrast between the Korean and Chinese music” (2005, 197).  So describes pyeongjo and gyemyeonjo as the “two main tonal systems of Korean music” (2002, 84), with ujo as a variant of pyeongjo. In Gagokkwollyu (1876), a nineteenth century treatise on gagok, moods are applied to these modes: pyeongjo is “deep and peaceful” or “upright and placid”, ujo is “high and valiant” or “transparent and magnificent”, and gyemyeonjo is “bitter and sad” or “sobbing and sad” (in So 2002, 85).  45 It is generally believed that pyeongjo, ujo, and gyemyeonjo have transformed over time and have been adapted to different musical genres and instruments in different ways by different players. Hwang, for example, notes that “originally, Yeongsanhoesang was a pentatonic [gyemyeonjo] scale of the Hwangjong [gung] but later changed to a tritonic [gyemyeonjo] and now has changed to become similar to [pyeongjo]” (2005, 203). Below, I reproduce for comparison So’s and Hwang’s conception of the “original” pyeongjo and gyemyeonjo, adding intervals (M2 = Major second, m3 = minor third) and arrows indicating gung. Figure 8: So and Hwang’s “Original” Pyeongjo (P) and Gyemyeonjo (G)  (So 2002, 85)   (Hwang 2005, 210) Arrows indicate gung.  While the gung is placed in different locations and the key is also different, an identical sequence of intervals ascends from gung, namely: M2/m3/M2/M2/m3 in pyeongjo and m3/M2/M2/m3/M2 in gyemyeonjo. The two modes may also to be seen as transformations of each other, with gyemyeonjo beginning on the second step of pyeongjo.   46 Later in this chapter, we will examine how these two modes relate to taepyeongso melodies, but first let us look at the theoretical literature on modes and melodies in Korean folk music.  Modes and Regional Styles So identifies five regional styles (see map below): central (gyeong-tori), northwest (susimga-tori or susimga-jo), eastern (menari-tori or menari-jo), southwest (yukjabaegi-tori or yukjabaegi-jo), and Jeju (2002, 89-91). Hwang names four, excluding Jeju but following similar geographical divisions (2005, 207-210), while Han [Hahn] Man-young in “The Mode of Folksongs in Eastern Korea” lists only three: north, centre and south (1990, 161).  Hwang identifies both gyeong-tori and susimga-tori with pyeongjo, but with a raised “Sang2” (two tones above gung). Similarly, menari-tori and yukjabaegi-tori are both identified as types of gyemyeonjo—a notion which, in my view, glosses over important differences between the two styles. Jeju melodies are not discussed (Hwang 2005, 207-210).  So, too, identifies gyeong-tori with pyeongjo, while also introducing ban-gyeong- tori, literally half-gyeong-tori, consisting of La, Do, Re, Mi Sol. She describes susimga-tori, meanwhile, as Re, Mi, Sol, La, Do—contradicting Hwang—with a wide vibrato on La. Menari-tori is described as Mi, Sol, La, Do Re, with Sol and La as passing tones. Yukjabaegi-tori is described as Mi, La, Si, with the lowest  47 tone, Mi, having a wide vibrato and La having no ornament. Further, there is a “breaking voice” or sliding appoggiatura beginning one or two half-steps above Si. Jeju styles are not discussed in detail (So 2002, 88-92). Figure 9: Five Melodic Regions of Korea: Northwest, Central, Southwest, Eastern, Jeju Island  Modified with permission from <> (See <> for license information)  Han, like So, describes gyeong-tori melodies as Sol, La, Do, Re, Mi, with all tones given “equal weight” and Mi sometimes replaced by a “flat fa” (185). Susimga-tori, called sodo by Han, is described as Re, La, Do with Mi and Sol as passing tones. Yukjabaegi-tori, also referred to as namdo by Han, is described  48 as Mi, La, Si, with the “breaking tone” above Si. In a different source, Hahn calls the three primary tones “trembling voice”, “level voice” and “breaking voice” (1973, 96). He also identifies this mode with gyemyeonjo. Menari-tori is described by Han as Mi, La, Do, with Sol as passing tone and Re as a “breaking tone”. Han further suggests that menari-tori, also, is “a kind of [gyemyeon] mode” (188). Jeju melodies are discussed in a later chapter by Han, but I will not discuss them here as they are not part of the taepyeongso repertoire (Han 1990, 185-189).  Below, I provide a visual summary of these various descriptions of the regional styles by these three authors using C as the lowest pitch and adding in ornamentation in cases where it is indicated by the authors.  I will refer again to these models later in order to compare them with my own analyses of taepyeongso melodies of each region. At the moment it is enough to note the general similarities between each (as well as the notable discrepancies).       49 Figure 10: Four Models of Gyeong-tori Hwang 2005, 207-210 So 2002, 88-92  So 2002, 88-92 (ban-gyeong-tori) Han 1990, 185-189  Figure 11: Three Models of Menari-tori: Hwang 2005, 207-210  So 2002, 88-92   Han 1990, 185-189    50 Figure 12: Three Models of Yukjabaegi-tori Hwang 2005, 207-210 So 2002, 88-92   Han 1990, 185-189    Notation A number of notation systems have been developed in Korea. Other sources discuss these systems in detail (Hahn [Han] 1973, 77-90; Lee 1981, 23-42; So 2002, 52-76). Here, I provide some background to the notation used most frequently for taepyeongso melodies (when notation is used at all; for the most part melodies and variations are memorized through repetition and imitation).  The notation is a combination of particular pitch indicators based on the previously discussed 12-tone Chinese system (called yuljabo or ‘letter notation’)— but with only six of the tones used—and mensural notation (jeongganbo). The mensural notation, popularly attributed to King Sejeong (Hahn [Han] 1973, 98), consists of columns of squares, with the number of squares  51 correlating to the number of beats in the jangdan (rhythmic pattern). The columns are read from top to bottom, then from right to left.  Each finger position of the taepyeongso is identified with one of the twelve pitches of the 12-tone Chinese system, with octaves sharing the same name. Figure 13: Taepyeongso Fingerings with Yuljabo Syllables ● ● ● ● ● ● ○ ● ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ○ ● ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ Jung Im Nam Mu Hwang Tae *Jung mean tube forest bell southern tube not determined yellow bell great frame mean tube 仲 林 南 無 黃 太 仲 A B C D E F G~A Western pitch designations are approximate *The prefix[亻] is used to mark upper octave pitches; in this case, *Jung is in the main register.  In this notation, the second character is dropped (i.e. Jungryeo becomes Jung). While these names originally indicated absolute pitches, when applied to folk music, the pitches become flexible and variable. Notes of the upper octave, while sharing the same names as those of the lower octave, have independent identities, and can’t be considered absolute octave equivalents—each note has its own role and characteristics. The syllables are used for both notational and mnemonic purposes (gu-eum). In notation for other instruments, such as piri, a number of other characters are used to indicate variations in fingerings and  52 ornamentation, but notation for taepyeongso tends to be basic, with only the main tones and octave markers (亻) provided.  Figure 14a provides a conceptual example of jeongganbo combined with yuljabo. The right-side column is played first in descending sequence, followed by the left side coloumn, with one pitch held for one subdivision of the jangdan (or beat of the jangdan, depending on how one interprets it). The hypothetical jangdan Figure 14a consists of six subdivisions. Figure 14a: A Conceptual Sample of Taepyeongso Notation:  亻林 林 亻仲 南 太 黃 黃 太 南 仲 林 亻林  Two characters can be placed in one square to indicate half-beat duration, as in Figure 14b. Figure 14b: Half-beat Duration in Taepyeongso Notation: 林 南  53  It must be emphasized that this notation, at least in reference to taepyeongso,  is used only as a pedagogical aid—one would never encounter a taepyeongso reading from notation in a performance context.  In this paper, I use western staff notation, primarily for the convenience of western readers (and myself as well). I am also convinced that western staff notation is able to represent with greater accuracy precise rhythmic and tonal values—although I am still forced to make arbitrary, yet fundamental, compromises. In any case, I include this background partly to illustrate how taepyeongso melodies are notated in the indigenous context and, more especially, to introduce the mnemonic Sino-Korean syllables used in this notation.  English-language writings on Korean folk melodies commonly use western solfege syllables to represent intervallic relationships. In my view, this is problematic insofar as these syllables presuppose a western tonal system. That is, “Do, Re” indicates not only a particular intervallic relationship, but also a hierarchical relationship based on western harmonic values—in other words, that Do is the tonic. As we will see, discovering the tonal centre of taepyeongso melodies is no simple matter, and importing a western harmonic framework into the discussion only confuses the matter further. Therefore, when referring to particular notes/fingerings, I retain the Sino-Korean syllables.   54 Furthermore, while I do use western staff notation, the notes are intended to represent the mnemonic syllables and associated fingerings as much as or more so than the actual pitches. That is, while one player’s Im may be close to B and another’s closer to Bb, I notate them both as B (except when there is a particular purpose served by representing the pitch more accurately, as when I compare particular players’ tuning in the following chapter). Actual tuning is extremely variable; my notation shows the fingering and its associated Sino-Korean designation, not necessarily the actual pitches. To make a long story short, then, I represent the following syllables/fingerings on the western staff as follows, unless specifically indicated otherwise: Figure 15a: Yuljabo with Staff Notation (Main Octave)  Figure 15b: Yuljabo with Staff Notation (Upper Octave)   Three Modes For the purposes of this analysis, I have chosen three somewhat representative recordings: to represent gyeong-tori, I chose Heo Yong-eop’s  55 “Neunggyetaryeong” (from Master Musician of the shaman and folk music: Heo Yong-Eop Solo Instrumental Album, 1996/2006); to represent sinawi, Bak Jongseon’s “Taepyeongso Sinawi” (from Park Jong Sun A-jeang Sanjo, 1994); and to represent menari-tori, “Kwigok”, featuring Won Woncheol on taepyeongso (from Kim Duk Soo’s Spirit of Nature, 2001).  My choices are subjective. In Heo Yong-eop’s case, I am attracted to the clarity and precision of his playing. In the case of Bak Jongseon, I was frequently referred to this recording as the best-known and most imitated rendition of Taepyeongso Sinawi. Because menari is the least often played of the three styles, there are fewer recordings to choose from—Won Woncheol’s rendition exemplifies the key characteristics of menari that I hope to illuminate here.  Neunggye Gutgeori As I have stated above, Neunggye Gutgeori and Neunggye Jajinmori are core melodies in the repertoire of gyeong-tori taepyeongso playing. The basic form of the Neunggye melody is played with gutgeori jangdan (a twelve-beat rhythmic pattern with ternary subdivisions played at a medium-slow tempo). While Neunggye Jajinmori has some basic similarities to Neunggye Gutgeori, it is not— or, at least, is not obviously—a variation of the gutgeori form of the melody. Another melody commonly referred to as Neunggye—Neunggye Hwimori—is better described as a form of Giltaryeong. Neunggye Gutgeori is closely related  56 to, and probably derived from, the shaman song Changbutaryeong and the folksong Taepyeongga.  In Figure 16, below, I provide a transcription of the first iteration of Heo Yong- eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong”, consisting of twelve cycles of gutgeori jangdan. Note the irregular but insistent alternation between eighth notes and triplets and the descent to Im at the end of each gutgeori cycle—two important characteristics of gyeong-tori taepyeongso playing.  Formal Analysis of Heo Yong-eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” The recording consists of 2 and 1/3 iterations of the melody, with a complete iteration lasting 12 cycles of gutgeori jangdan. These 12 cycles can be divided into three sections, each consisting of four cycles of gutgeori. The final two cycles in each section are a sort of refrain, repeated with variation in each section. A characteristic phrase occurs in the final six beats in cycles 1, 2, and 4 of each section, while a different characteristic phrase occurs in the final 6 beats of each cycle 3. It is in the first 6 beats of each cycle, therefore, that the most variation occurs.   57 Figure 16: Heo Yong-eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong”, First Iteration Upper and lower-case letters refer to sections discussed in the formal analysis below (‘r’ indicates refrain); arrows indicate cadential phrases (green indicates the primary cadential phrase, purple the secondary cadential phrase)  Figure 17: Formal structure of Heo Yong-eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” A B C a Refrain 1 b Refrain 2 c Refrain 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 i # ii # iii * iv # v # vi # vii * viii # ix # x # xi * xii # i’  ii’            viii’  ix’  x’ i  ii’’     #’ Row 1: Three main sections (four cycles of gutgeori each) Row 2: Phrase –refrain substructure of each section (two cycles of gutgeori) Row 3: 12 Gutgeori cycles Row 4: First iteration phrase-cadence substructure within phrase-refrain substructure (half cycle of gutgeori) Rows 5-6: Second and third iteration phrase-cadence substructure within phrase-refrain substructure (half cycle of gutgeori)   58 Form and Melody in Heo Yong-eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” Each main section begins on a successively lower pitch: A on Jung (notated G in the score), B on Hwang (E), and C on Nam (C). Each refrain, on the other hand, begins on a successively higher pitch: Refrain 1 on Im (B), Refrain 2 on Hwang, and Refrain 3 on upper Nam. Below, I categorize the starting pitches of each cycle as Low (Im or Nam), Middle (Hwang or Tae [F]), Middle-High (Jung) or High (upper register). I then categorize each phrase, excluding the characteristic phrases in the last 6 subdivisions of each cycle, as rising (/), descending (\), rising and descending (/\), descending and rising (\/), or (relatively) stable (-). Finally, I note the occurrence of upper register notes, either Im (↑), Nam (↑↑), or Hwang (↑↑↑). Figure 18: Melodic Data for Heo Yong-eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” Beginning Pitch Contour/ Upper Register Section Rhythmic Cycle 3 1/3 Iterations 1 MH MH MH - - - 2 M MH M /\  ↑↑ - /\  ↑↑ 3 L L L / / / A 4 M M M - - - 5 M M  - - 6 M M  \/ \/ 7 M M  /  ↑↑ /  ↑↑  B 8 M M  \ \ 9 L L  / / 10 L L  /  ↑ / 11 H H  /\  ↑↑↑ /\  ↑↑↑  C 12 M M  /\  ↑ /\  ↑  Using this data, we can make the following observations: ƒ Jung at the beginning of a phrase indicates the beginning of a new iteration of the melody;  59 ƒ Most phrases (7 of 12) begin in the middle of the lower register; three begin in the lower end of the lower register, and one begins in the upper register; ƒ The first cycle of each iteration is stable; cycles beginning with a lower pitch ascend; phrases beginning in the middle of the lower register may ascend, descend, or both; phrases beginning in the upper register ascend, then descend; ƒ Pitches in the upper register occur more frequently in the second half of the melody than in the first.  Pitches and Characteristics of Notes As I have stated, notes as notated on the staff do not represent actual pitches. I took a number of samples from throughout the recording to find upper and lower ranges for each note: Figure 19: Toneset in Heo Yong-eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” Name Im Nam Hwang Tae Jung Im’ Nam’ ‘Hwang Notated: B C E F G B C E Lowest sample: Highest sample:  Bb+10  C+30  C-10  Db-10  F-50  F-10  Gb-20  Gb-10  Ab-50  Ab+20  B  Db+20  Db-50  Db  F-10  F+10 Range: 220 cents 100 cents 40 cents 10 cents 70 cents 220 cents 50 cents 20 cents Numerals following the +/- sign indicate number of cents above or below the main note  Taking the mid-point of each given range, we can find approximate intervals between pitches:  60  Figure 20a: Intervals in Heo Yong-eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” Im - Nam 120 cents M2 (+20) Nam – Hwang 430 cents M3 (+30) Hwang - Tae 115 cents m2 (+15) Tae – Jung 200 cents M2 Jung – Im’ 425 cents M3 (+25) Im’ – Nam’ 65 cents m2 (-35) Nam’ – Hwang’ 425 cents M3 (+25)  Using only the lowest samples of each note, we come up with slightly different intervals: Figure 20b: Adjusted Intervals in Heo Yong-eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” Im – Nam 180 cents M2 (-20) Nam – Hwang 360 cents M3 (-40) Hwang - Tae 130 cents m2 (+30) Tae – Jung 170 cents M2 (-30) Jung – Im’ 350 cents m3 (+50) Im’ – Nam’ 250 cents m2 (-35) Nam’ – Hwang’ 440 cents M3 (+40)  As we can see, finding actual pitches and intervals is problematic. In particular, the heavy vibrato on Im skews the data. How do these intervals compare with written literature on gyeong-tori that we consulted earlier?  Since the three authors whose interpretations we have discussed do not identify their tones using the same terminology as I do (refer again to Figure 10), direct comparison is difficult (i.e., we don’t know if C/Sol is Im, Hwang or another tone). At this point, I must refer back to an early experience I had as a student learning taepyeongso. Among the learning materials I received while in Korea in 2002, I received one notated score of Neunggye Gutgeori with solfege syllables hand-  61 written below each note. In this score, Im was identified with Sol, Nam with La, Hwang with Do, and so on. I very much regret receiving this score because it became very difficult for me afterwards to not associate the pitches on the taepyeongso with the solfege and associated tonal system that I had grown up with. Thus, I constantly heard, and subsequently played, Neunggye Gutgeori as “Mi Mi - - Re Mi Re Do La Sol…(etc.)”. Indeed, overcoming this tonal disorientation is an ongoing challenge. In any case, as a result of this unfortunate occurrence, I am at least able to relate Sol with Im, and so on. Figure 21: Comparison of Solfege Intervals with Adjusted Intervals in Heo Yong- eop’s “Neunggyetaryeong” sol - la la - do do - re re - mi mi - sol sol - la la – do Im - Nam Nam - Hwang Hwang - Tae Tae - Jung Jung - Im Im - Nam Nam – Hwang m2 m3 m2 m2 or m3 m3 or m2 m2 m3 m2 (-20) m3 (-40) m2 (+30) m2 (-30) m3 (+50) m2 (-35) m3 (+40) sol – la (-20) la – do (+60) do – re (-70) re – mi (-30) mi – sol (+50) sol – la (+50) la – do (+140) Row 1: solfege provided by authors above Row 2: Sino-Korean syllables Row 3: Intervals based on solfege in row 1 Row 4: Intervals derived from my data (figure 20b) Row 5: Intervals in my data expressed as solfege with differential in cents between solfege intervals (Row 3) and intervals in my data (Row 4) in brackets  With the exception of the final interval, then, all of the differentials are 70 cents or less, suggesting that there is at least some relationship, however approximate, between published descriptions of gyeong-tori and the data I derived from Heo Yongeop’s “Neunggyetaryeong”.     62 Characteristics of Individual Tones Each tone in Neunggye gutgeori has unique characteristics: ƒ Im features heavy, regular vibrato; ƒ Lower Nam either slides down to Im or functions as a passing tone to Im or Hwang; ƒ Hwang, when held for at least two beat subdivisions, features heavy terminal vibrato; Hwang’s vibrato is more rhythmic and less tonal than Im’s vibrato. ƒ Tae is never held longer than a beat, and is primarily used as a passing tone between Hwang and Jung; ƒ Jung is used to mark the beginning of a new iteration of the melody, and as the high point of many descending patterns; ƒ Upper Nam is usually held without vibrato for over a beat; ƒ Upper Hwang appears in rare circumstances and is played without vibrato.  Kim Seunghak, a member of the Daum “Taepyeongso” cafe and an acquaintance of Kim Dongwon, has elaborated on the functions and associations of each individual note in neunggye, and I translate parts of his article here: Lower Im Lower Im and Hwang are both primary tones. While Hwang wants to move on quickly to another note, Im wants to prepare us for a new season. Im is associated with water and its colour is navy blue. It is like being submerged in water, as in a warm bath. It is comfortable—not dangerous—but we must approach it carefully, as if we were approaching an unmarried woman.  Lower Nam Lower Nam is not fixed, but always moving towards other sounds. Its colour is grey—not particularly attractive on it own but, in contrast, it allows other notes to stand out better. When playing Nam, the stomach  63 muscles must remain tense; otherwise, one might accidently produce upper Nam.  Lower Hwang Hwang, together with Im, is a primary tone. In the middle of a phrase, Hwang is brownish and bluish; at the end, it is like a sunset—orange and very hot.  Tae Tae is like the sun—it is proud and likes to show off. Its colour is bright yellow. When a person shows off too much, we begin to dislike that person. Therefore, Tae should be used sparingly.  Jung Jung is the sound of the older brother: thoughtful and respectable. Just like when we are in the company of older people we must be respectful, we must also be respectful towards Jung. Because of this, we can never feel too comfortable around Jung. Jung is associated with metal and the colour white. It is cold and dry. One shouldn’t apply vibrato to Jung.  High Im When you play high Im, you will want to leap into the air with excitement. Playing it is like Salpuri, like ritually opening a metaphysically blocked passage. But, like a drug, it is addictive and potentially dangerous, so must be used cautiously. Its colour is transparent blue. To play it properly, one needs a good reed.  High Nam Unlike lower Nam, upper Nam isn’t always moving, but it shouldn’t be held for too long. Because it is very high, one must keep the facial muscles relaxed and breathe properly; otherwise, one can get dizzy, faint, and eventually die. Upper Nam is like a swallow shooting downwards from the sky. Its colour is dark grey.  High Hwang High Hwang is like an orgasm, like space, like the border between life and death. When we play this, we understand the essence of life, while equally knowing death. Hwang requires self-control. Hwang’s colour is constantly changing. To play Hwang properly, one’s reed must not be too long.  (translated and summarized from “Taepyeongso eumgye iyagi pyeongjo (neunggye)”, nd.)   64 Sinawi Compared with Neunggye Gutgeori and other gyeong-tori melodies, sinawi features a much more free form of improvisation and, in terms of mood, tends to be associated with sorrow. According to Lee Bohyeong, the term sinawi is derived from sanoe or sanae, the religious folk music of the Shilla Dynasty (2002, 889). He further differentiates between several types of sinawi: “the original sinawi, which accompanied shaman chants and dances; the non-ritual sinawi, which was performed solo or in an ensemble; the transitional sinawi, which still maintained its improvisational style but was changing into sanjo with influence from the narrative vocal genre p’ansori; and finally the fixed sinawi, which had formal rhythmic and modal schemes and fixed melodic structure” (890). Taepyeongso sinawi would seem to fall somewhere between the second and last of these types—a solo, non-ritual form which frequently follows a fixed rhythmic progression. Melodies based on sinawi are also commonly used to accompany pungmul ensembles. As we will see, sinawi is easily identified through certain characteristic phrases.  In Figure 22 below, Phrases circled in red are cadential phrases featuring the so- called ‘breaking voice’ (D tied to C), performed by adjusting the embouchure rather than covering the Nam key on the instrument. A similar technique is employed with Hwang (to Mu) and Jung (to Tae). This continual ‘bending’ of pitches is a key characteristic of sinawi and a demonstration of the player’s skill.   65 In addition to slides and bends, vibrato plays an important role in sinawi. With the exception of Jung, all notes held for any duration receive vibrato. The terminal vibrato on Im is a particularly distinctive feature—in neunggye, vibrato on Im is regular and continuous.  In any case, between each red circle—excepting the two in cycle 14, which seem to be parts of a single extended phrase—we find either a blue circle or a green, indicating two types of phrase which lift the melody into the upper register. Together, these three phrases are the three most definable features of sinawi. Figure 22: Bak Jongseon’s “Taepyeongso Sinawi” (First 16 Cycles)   66 As suggested by the score, the tuning and fingering in sinawi are also somewhat different from gyeong-tori melodies. Jung, in particular, is tuned considerably higher. The substitution of Mu for Im shifts the key into a minor-sounding mode: Figure 23: Tuning in Bak Jongseon’s “Taepyeongso Sinawi” Name Im Nam Mu Hwang Tae Jung Im’ Mu’ Notated B C D E F A B’ D’ Average B-20 C-30 D E+30 F A+20 B-10 D  Revisiting our discussion from the first part of this chapter, let us recall how So and Han described yukjabaegi-tori: Yukjabaegi-tori is described as Mi, Si, La, with the lowest tone, Mi, having a wide vibrato and La having no ornament. Further, there is a “breaking voice” or sliding appoggiatura beginning one or two half-steps above Si (from p. 49, above)  Refering again to Figure 11, if the breaking tone is above Si (apparently represented as D/Eb/E on the diagrams above), then C would be the equivalent of Im in my notation. As noted, Im does receive heavy vibrato. The identification of La (Hwang or Tae?) as gung is not consistent with my transcription—in Bak’s “Taepyeongso Sinawi”, Im is clearly the most prominent pitch. Hwang and Tae also both receive vibrato by Bak, contradicting So’s statement that La is played straight. Also, if La and Hwang are the same thing, why is Tae notated as a bending note when it is one of the few that doesn’t bend in Bak’s playing? In short, the description of yukjabaegi-tori given by these three authors and my own transcription and analysis of Bak’s playing simply do not coincide. I do not suggest that sinawi is not similar to, or a form of, yukjabaegi-tori—only that the  67 current English-language descriptions do not provide adequate evidence to support the assertion.  As with Neunggye Gutgeori, Kim Seonghak writes in detail about each note and their musical function and extra-musical associations. Again, I summarize his ideas below:  General comments Neunggye is communal: individuality is controlled. Sinawi, on the other hand, represents personal expression. For example, neunggye is like being a little drunk—one enjoys oneself but remains in control. Sinawi is like being completely wasted and being able to express one’s emotion without any inhibition whatsoever.  Neunggye follows the jangdan closely, so it is more accessible to listeners. They think they understand it fully on the first listening and, even though their knowledge is superficial, they don’t feel the need to study it more closely. Sinawi, on the other hand, plays with the jangdan, and makes the jangdan get embarrassed.  Sometimes in sinawi, the player will produce a long sigh, and then suddenly yell out. The janggu player has to be careful to not get sucked in by the sinawi melody. Sinawi has a lot of charisma. It is not controlled by the jangdan, but at the same time is able to create a sort of harmony with the jangdan. It has the power to affect people deeply. Normally, sadness on its own is not enjoyable, but when expressed through sinawi, it can be experienced as a sort of happiness. Sinawi can make any emotion pleasurable.  The basic tones of sinawi are Im, Mu, Tae, upper Im, and upper Mu. Lower Jung and Hwang are like seasoning. While improvising, one can occasionally use upper Tae and upper Jung.  Im Both upper and lower Im are considered to be ‘eu-tteum-eum’ (tonic note). Usually upper Im functions as the main tonic and lower Im as the cadential tonic. Playing Im clearly in sinawi requires a softer and thinner reed than in neunggye. When approaching lower Im from above, one must calm oneself down emotionally.  68  Mu Although Mu occupies the second step ascending from lower Im—like Nam in neunggye—the functions of Mu and Nam are completely different. Lower Mu is like a rest stop on the highway—one is glad to arrive, but doesn’t want to stay too long. Lower Mu, when it mixes with Hwang and Tae, can produce a variety of emotional effects: excitement, sobbing, tenderness, and so on.  Tae Tae in sinawi is similar to Tae in neunggye: it is exciting and bright, but should be used sparingly. It can be used to turn a sad feeling into a joyful feeling.  Jung Jung in sinawi is a half-step higher than in neunggye. A common mistake for beginners is to not play Jung high enough. Jung in sinawi has a similar role to Nam in neunggye—as a bridge between two adjacent tones.  Upper Im Upper Im appears frequently as it is the tonic note. It is also in the middle, of the instrument’s range, so is central in that sense as well.  Upper Mu Upper Mu is like yelling, or like making a confession—an outpouring of total openness and honesty. It is a release of pure emotion. It gives limited pleasure, but it is honest and direct. Upper Mu is completely unlike upper Hwang in neunggye.  Upper Tae and Jung  These pitches are extremely rare. Making these high sounds is like making a diamond—it needs time, patience, and a good reed. High Jung is the highest sound that the taepyeongso can make, and is beyond the ability of most people.  (translated and summarized from “Taepyeongso eumgye iyagi gyemyeonjo (sinawi)”, nd.)  Menari Menari-tori is the least played of taepyeongso styles. As with neunggye, there are particular folksong-derived menari-tori melodies—most famously  69 Baetnorae—which can be played on taepyeongso but, like sinawi, menari is used more commonly as a melodic springboard for freer forms of improvisation.  In figure 24, below, I notate Baetnorae as I first learned it from my ‘brother’ Mr. Kang. Figure 24: Remembered Version of Baetnorae  Circled in red: menari’s characteristic descending phrase  Immediately, we notice a different toneset: Figure 25: Menari’s Toneset Name Nam Hwang Tae Jung Im’ Notated C E F G B’ *Average C+10 E+10 F+10 Ab+40 B-30 *Samples taken from “Deep sea” recording notated in Figure 26  Lower Im, so important in sinawi and neunggye, is here entirely absent, although upper Im does make a few appearances. Here, Nam and Tae are primary notes, with Hwang and Jung mainly acting as passing tones. Notice also menari’s primary characteristic phrase (circled in red)—it is by this phrase that menari-tori  70 melodies can be quickly recognized. Let us examine another short example before moving on to a more complex rendition of menari, this time from fusion ensemble Gongmyeong’s Deep Sea CD (2007), featuring Bak Seungwon on taepyeongso. Figure 26: “Deep Sea” (from :51)   In this rendition, we again see the characteristic phrase repeated throughout and the primary role of Nam. Interestingly, Jung seems to take the place of Tae in this version, with Tae playing a much more minimal role, and high Nam is entirely absent.  Below I notate a section of “Kwigok” (from Kim Duk Soo’s Spirit of Nature, 2001) played by Won Wancheol (taepyeongso) in dongsalpuri jangdan, a fast rhythm with eight beat-subdivisions (here, I group the eight subdivisions into three uneven beats of 3+3+2, a decision I made somewhat arbitrarily but which, after investigating other options, seemed to best fit the internal rhythms of the  71 taepyeongso melody). Here the melody shifts abruptly between long held notes and brief articulations of dense phrases. Again, lower Nam and Tae are prominent, with both receiving heavy vibrato, while high Im features a sliding appoggiatura at the end of sustained notes. Menari-tori’s identifying phrase is heard throughout. Figure 27: “Kwigok” (from 4:17)   72 Let us again return to our discussion from earlier in this chapter. Both So and Han describe menari-tori as consisting of Mi, Sol, La, Do Re, with Sol and La as passing tones (refer to Figure 12). If Mi is Nam, the authors’ descriptions seem to coincide fairly closely with my own analysis. Hwang points out the vibrato on Nam, and the sliding note on A natural would seem to be equivalent to the sliding appoggiatura on Jung. The important role of Tae (Sol) is also noted.  Summary We have examined various theoretical models of modes in Korea, and attempted to identify the three primary taepyeonso playing styles with these theoretical models—but with limited success. A key reason for the difficulty is, as I have indicated, varying terminologies—we simply cannot know if the author’s La is equivalent to my Hwang. Tuning and notation add further challenges. Furthermore, no two taepyeongso players use exactly the same tuning, and various tunings may occur within a single recording. Representing this variable tuning in a consistent yet accurate manner involves making compromises. Undoubtedly, the authors discussed in this chapter faced many of the same challenges as I did—thus, the difficulties are compounded as each new theoretical voice enters the discussion.  Naturally, we cannot expect the performers to be concerned with the difficulties faced by music theorists. What is “correct” is what passes from the mouth of the master. Indeed, if we theorists were able to influence the masters to standardize  73 their playing according to our models, the result, I believe, would be disastrous to the music. For me, what enthralls me and compels me to want to learn more is precisely the presence of the unknown and the unknowable—this enchanting mystery which permeates the music of the taepyeongso.                  74 CHAPTER 4: APPROACHES TO MELODIC VARIATION IN GYEONG-TORI MELODIES  The Repertoire In this chapter, I focus on the taepyeongso repertoire from Gyeonggi province and surrounding regions. Specifically, I look at four core melodies, each illustrating a different type of melodic variation. First, I return to Neunggye Gutgeori (discussed in Chapter 3), a relatively fixed-form melody, and observe how different players develop variation within this fixed form. Secondly, I look at Neunggye Jajinmori, a melody without a definite fixed form (that is, melodies may last as few as one jajinmori jangdan cycle or as many as eleven). Here, variation is inserted into the middle of the basic structure, thus increasing (or in some cases decreasing) the number of rhythmic cycles over which the melody plays. I then turn to Heoteuntaryeong, another non-fixed form in which variations are prefixed to the melody, again varying the number of rhythmic cycles over which one iteration of the melody is concluded. Finally, I look at Giltaryeong played in a number of different jangdan in order to demonstrate how a single melody may be adapted to various jangdan.  As in the previous chapter, I rely heavily on Heo Yong-eop’s renditions of melodies, again because the clarity and precision of his playing lends itself well  75 to transcription and analysis. Before turning to these melodies, I provide a brief overview of the entire gyeong-tori repertoire for taepyeongso.  Below, I give a provide a brief introduction and background to the following melodies: ƒ Neunggye Gutgeori ƒ Neunggye Jajinmori ƒ Giltaryeong/Cheonsubara ƒ Heotentaryeong ƒ Gutgeori ƒ Yeombul ƒ Daechwita ƒ Assorted minyo (folksong)-derived melodies  Neunggye Gutgeori As indicated, Neunggye Gutgeori is commonly employed as a beginning piece for new players. It shares basic melodic and formal characteristics with, and most likely is derived from, the folksong Taepyeongga and the related gyeonggi shaman song Changbutaryeong. It has a fixed form consisting of three main sections, although this form is sometimes varied. In general, neunggye melodies feature a descending contour.    76 Neunggye Jajinmori Neunggye Jajinmori shares some of the important characteristics of Neungye Gutgeori, such as descending melodic lines, a characteristic cadential phrase echoing that of Neunggye Gutgeori, consistent vibrato on Jung and Hwang, and an opening phrase emphasizing Jung. Unlike Neunggye Gutgeori, it does not have a fixed form—a melodic cycle may last for anywhere from one to eleven (or more, at least theoretically) rhythmic cycles. It is also not, to my knowledge, based on any folk song, but seems to be unique to taepyeongso performance. There are at least two basic types of Neunggye Jajinmori, which will be discussed below.  Giltaryeong/Cheonsubara Giltaryeong, or ‘road melody’, is a short, sixteen beat melody with a fixed form. It may be played with a variety of different jangdan. When played with hwimori jangdan, it is commonly referred to as “Neunggye Hwimori”, or simply “Hwimori”. Cheonsubara, a melody used by taepyeongso players to accompany Buddhist ceremonial dance, is essentially identical to Giltaryeong.  Heoteuntaryong Heoteun in its common usage means ‘wrongful’; thus, heoteuntaryeong means ‘wrongful melody’. This melody is distinct from other taepyeongso melodies of the gyeonggi region in having Tae, rather than Im or Hwang, as its primary tone. It  77 has a non-fixed form which can be adapted to a wide range of jangdan, and is a popular vehicle for relatively free improvisation.  Gutgeori This melody, known by its primary accompanying jangdan (even though it may also be adapted to jajinmori jangdan), is a fixed-form melody consisting, like Neunggye Gutgeori, of three main sections. Here, however, each section is two, rather than four (as in Neunggye Gutgeori), rhythmic cycles in duration. The melody is associated with shaman rituals, and is often performed together with a wind ensemble called samhyeonyukgak.  Yeombul/Heoncheonsu Yeombul or Yeombultaryeong [song of sutra], is primarily associated with Buddhist ritual music. It is also a part of the Yeongsanhoesang suite usually performed by a samhyeonyukgak ensemble. It is sometimes performed by ssang hojeok (two taepyeongso played simultaneously in approximate unison).  Daechwita As discussed, Daechwita was used to accompany state processions during the Joseon dynasty. It is frequently performed by ssang hojeok, has a fixed form and, unlike most taepyeongso melodies, is rarely played outside of the original context (that is, one is very unlikely to hear it used for pungmul accompaniment, for example).  78 Assorted Minyo-derived Melodies This category includes any number of folksong melodies which may be adapted for taepyeongso in an entertainment context. The most widely-played folksong on taepyeongso is undoubtedly Pungnyeonga, a ‘farming’ song which asks for a good harvest. Other melodies in this category include Cheonnyeonmanse, Han- gangsutaryeong, Taepyeongga, Yangsando, and Golpaetaryeong, among others.  Variation in Fixed-Form Melodies: Neunggye Gutgeori I have described Neunggye Gutgeori as a fixed-form melody, but hinted that not all players necessarily follow this fixed form. Kim Jeomseok’s rendition (“Taepyeongga”, on Instrumental Music of [Kim Jeomseok], nd.), for example, consists of two melodic iterations, each consisting of nine cycles of gutgeori jangdan. The first four rhythmic cycles mirror the first section of Heo’s “Neunggyetaryeong”, while the remaining five mirror Heo’s second section with one cycle inserted into the middle (a common technique as we will see when we look at Neunggye Jajinmori). The third section is omitted. Choi Inseo’s rendition of Neunggye Gutgeori (“Taepyeongso Neunggye”, on NCKTPA’s Korean Traditional Music, nd.), meanwhile, begins with Gutgeori (distinct from Neunggye Gutgeori; see above) before transforming into a variation of Neunggye Gutgeori mirroring Heo’s first section, repeated continually with variation. Lee Senggang’s Neunggye Gutgeori (“Dokmu-Gutgeori (Neunggye) [etc.]”, on Jeontongminsokmuyonggokjib (5)—Nongak, 1993) follows, with considerable melodic variation, the fixed form in its first iteration, but in the second iteration  79 inserts an entire section of new content. Choi Gyeongman (“Neunggyetaryeong, Jajinneunggyetaryeong” on [Choi Gyeongman’s] Pi-Ri Plays, nd.) also follows the fixed form for the first two iterations but, in the third, repeats the second section, lengthening this iteration by four rhythmic cycles. In short, there does not seem to be any ‘rule’ when it comes to the form of Neunggye Gutgeori—one is free to vary the form as one wishes.  On the other hand, the fixed form is the most commonly played form, and the one—at least in my experience—usually taught to beginners. Figures 27 and 28 show two iterations of Neunggye Gutgeori which follow this fixed form, the first by Lee Jongdae (“Taepyeongso and Samulnori”, on Art World of Lee Jong-dae’s Piri, 2003), and the second by Kim Chanseop (“Dokjugok-neunggye”, on Biseong, 1995).  Immediately, on the micro-level, we can see a quite different interpretation of the characteristic cadential phrase with Lee, like Heo, ending on the down beat of the ninth beat of each gutgeori cycle and Kim extending this cadential phrase by two sixteenth notes (refer to Figure 16 for Heo’s version). While it is not made particularly apparent in the transcription, the general phrasing is quite different between the three players: Heo’s style is smooth and regular, some might say (deceptively) simple and straightforward; Lee uses considerably more vibrato, and is less likely to stay ‘between the lines’, so to speak; Kim has the most unusual style of the three, more ‘jagged’ than Heo and, on a micro-level,  80 extremely complex rhythmically. The extremely nasal tone he produces is also unusual, most likely a function of his reed (almost certainly a galpae reed). Figure 27: Lee Jongdae, from “Taepyeongso and Samulnori” (First Iteration)  Each gutgeori cycle (4 beats with ternary subdivision) is contained within bold vertical lines—12 in total shown; A, B, C mark three main sections (four cycles of gutgeori jangdan each); a, b, c and v1, v2, and v3 show subsections within each main section (two cycles of gutgeori jangdan each).   81 Figure 28: Kim Chanseop, from “Dokjugok-neunggye” (First Iteration)   By combining these three scores into what I call a ‘meta-score’, we can more easily observe the characteristics of each phrase and section, and how much or little variation can be applied. The process is to first remove all note-stems and rhythmic values. I then use larger note heads to indicate notes played by all three players, and smaller note heads for all other notes. The notes are placed in approximate order of how they appear in the individual scores, but some liberties are taken. Green circles indicate passages with a high number of large noteheads, and red circles for a relative absence of larger noteheads.   82 Figure 29: Neunggye Gutgeori Metascore—Heo Yong-eop, Lee Jongdae, Kim Chanseob   Below, I give a phrase-by-phrase analysis of Neunggye Gutgeori based on the data presented in the preceding meta-score.  Section A Cycle One: ƒ First three subdivisions emphasize Jung (notated G on the staff); ƒ Ends with the primary cadential phrase.  83 Cycle Two: ƒ Begins by ascending to upper Im and Nam; ƒ Ends with main cadential phrase. Cycle Three: ƒ Descends to Im (B) in first three subdivisions; ƒ High degree of variation in the second group of three beats, although the range mostly falls within Hwang-Jung (E-G); ƒ Ends with alternate cadential phrase. Cycle Four: ƒ Has Hwang as its primary note, often with a heavy, terminal vibrato (not shown); ƒ Second group of three beats moves between Hwang and Jung; ends with main cadential phrase.  Section B Cycle One: ƒ Has Hwang and Tae as primary tones; ƒ Ends with main cadential phrase. Cycle Two: ƒ Has Hwang and tae as primary tones; ƒ Descends to Im in the second group of three beats; ƒ Ends with main cadential phrase. Cycle Three:  84 ƒ First three beats have Hwang as the primary tone; ƒ Second group of three beats is similar to first group of three beats in Section A, Cycle Two; ƒ Ends with alternate cadential phrase. Cycle Four: ƒ Similar to Cycle Four of Section A.  Section C Cycle One: ƒ Begins on Nam; ƒ Descends to Im before ascending to Hwang and Tae; ƒ Ends with main cadential phrase. Cycle Two: ƒ Begins on Nam and descends to Im before ascending to Hwang; ƒ High degree of variation in the second group of three beats; ƒ Ends with main cadential phrase. Cycle Three: ƒ May begin by either ascending to Hwang from Im, or ascending to upper Hwang (the highest commonly used pitch in gyeong-tori melodies); ƒ Second group of three beats features upper Im and Nam; ƒ Ends with alternate cadential phrase.   85 Cycle Four: ƒ Similar to Cycle Four of Sections A and B.  By merging into this meta-score additional iterations of Neunggye Gutgeori by the same or different players, we would be able to construct a more complete model, and uncover more nuanced information. Nevertheless, I believe the analysis above is an accurate description of the core characteristics of Neunggye Gutgeori, and provides some insight into how variation is used in a fixed form melody.  Variation in Non-Fixed-Form Melodies I: Neunggye Jajinmori Unlike Neunggye Gutgeori, in Neunggye Jajinmori—played in jajinmori jangdan (four beats long with ternary subdivision played at a medium tempo)—melodic variations vary considerably in length from iteration to iteration. The melody may be varied in a number of ways, but one basic technique is to insert new material into the middle of the melody. Below, I illustrate this technique using Heo’s rendition of Neunggye Jajinmori (from “Jajinmori, Hwimori, Pungnyeonga”, on Heo Yong-Eop Solo Instrumental Album, 2006).  The rendition begins with a short, three cycle introduction, a common approach to Neunggye Jajinmori:   86 Figure 30: Introductory Phrase in Heo Yong-Eob’s Neunggye Jajinmori  Notation shows three cycles of jajinmori jangdan; large circles indicate important beats (i.e. kung/deong on the janggu), smaller circles pick-ups to the important beats, and lines other accented subdivisions (i.e. tta on the janggu).  We see Hwang held for an extended period, and the introduction of a two-cycle cadential phrase at the end which, in its general descending contour, is similar to the cadential phrases used in Neunggye Gutgeori.  The first complete iteration of the melody is five cycles long (Figure 31, below). The first cycle, as in Neunggye Gutgeori, has Jung as its primary note. In the next two cycles, the melody ascends to the upper octave before descending to Im and, finally, returning Hwang. The iteration ends with the two-cycle cadential phrase. Figure 31: First Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Neunggye Jajinmori  Five cycles of jajinmori jangdan (labeled ‘a-e’)  The second complete iteration of the melody has a similar form to the first: the first cycle emphasizes Jung, the third Hwang, while in the second cycle Hwang  87 adds a new variation. As in the first iteration, this one is five cycles in duration and ends with the cadential phrase.  Figure 32: Second Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Neunggye Jajinmori  Phrases ‘d’ and ‘e’ are identical to phrases ‘d’ and ‘e’ in Figure 31.  In the next iteration (Figure 33, below), we see Heo inserting new material into the middle of the melody. We begin as we did in the first two iterations, but over the next six cycles (bracketed) Heo introduces new material featuring mostly notes of the upper octave. Note the similarity of the final three cycles of bracketed material to Section C, Cycle One of Heo’s Neunggye Gutgeori (see Figure 16)—this is a characteristic phrase in gyeong-tori melodies. This iteration ends with the familiar cadential phrase condensed into one cycle. Figure 33: Third Iteration of Heo Yong-Eop’s Neunggye Jajinmori  Bracketed cycles measures show inserted variations  88  An alternate form of Neunggye Jajinmori is presented by Seo Yongseok (from “Samulnoliwa Taepyeongso”, on Traditional Music of Korea, 2001). This version, like Heo’s, begins with a short introduction—in this case only one cycle long: Figure 34: Introductory Phrase of Seo Yongseok’s Neunggye Jajinmori  Notation shows one cycle of jajinmori jangdan  In the first complete iteration of the melody (Figure 35, below), we see many of the same characteristics that we saw in Heo’s version: the opening cycle has Jung as its primary pitch, the third cycle emphasizes Hwang, and there is the familiar two-cycle cadential phrase following the third cycle. Appended to this cadential phrase, however, is a short, transitional phrase—‘transitional’ because it is not clear whether it is the ending of one iteration or the beginning of a new one. In any case, it is this transitional phrase which characterizes this second type of Neunggye Jajinmori. Nearly every rendition of Neunggye Jajinmori one encounters will be of one of these two types.   89 Figure 35: First Iteration of Seo Yongseok’s Neunggye Jajinmori  Six cycles of jajinmori jangdan (labeled ‘a-f’); transitional phrase is labeled ‘f’  Seo’s second iteration of the melody is similar to the first and not notated here. The third, shown below (Figure 36), is again similar to Heo’s: it begins with the opening ‘Jung’ flourish, then inserts five cycles of new variations using mainly upper octave pitches, after which the melody picks up where it left off and continues to the cadential and ‘turnaround’ phrases. Figure 36: Third Iteration of Seo Yongseok’s Neunggye Jajinmori  Eleven cycles of jajinmori jangdan; five cycles of inserted variations occur between ‘a’’ and ‘c’; ‘c-f’ identical to ‘c-f’ in Figure 37, above.  Variation in Non-Fixed-Form Melodies II: Heoteuntaryeong Heotuentaryeong, or ‘wrongful melody’, provides us with another example of variation in non-fixed forms. Like Neunggye Jajinmori, iterations of the melody  90 may occur over a variable number of rhythmic cycles. In some renditions—for example, in Lee Jongdae’s “Taepyeongso and Samulnori” (on Art World of Lee Jong-dae’s Piri, 2003) and an unnamed player’s rendition in “Utdari Pungmulnoligut-garak” (on Kim Duk Soo Samulnori: Gyeoljeongpan, 1996)—it is not clear at all where one iteration begins and ends. Heoteuntaryeong seems to be a popular tune for more ‘free’ improvisation in the gyeong-tori repertoire—not unlike the sinawi and menari styles we saw in Chapter 3.  Here, I look at Heo Yong-Eop’s rendition (“Heoteuntaryeong”, on Heo Yong-Eop Solo Instrumental Album, 2006). The jangdan is taryeong jangdan, a four beat rhythmic pattern with ternary subdivision played at a medium tempo.  As in Neunngye Jajinmori, we again see a short introductory (or perhaps better described in this case as ‘transitional’) phrase, this time having Tae as its primary tone. At the end of the cycle, we are introduced to the identifying melodic and rhythmic motif of Heoteuntaryeong. Figure 37: Introductory Phrase of Heo-Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong  Notation shows one cycle of taryeong jangdan  The first two iterations of the melody (Figure 38, below, shows the first of these) are eight cycles of taryeong jangdan in duration.  91 Figure 38: First Iteration of Heo-Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong  Notation shows eight cycles of taryeong jangdan; lower case letters indicate similarities between each half-jangdan phrase; phrases f-i represent the cadential phrase. The next iteration (Figure 39, below) is introduced by one measure of new material which replaces the first four cycles in the previous iterations, thus reducing the total length of the iteration to five cycles of taryeong jangdan. Interestingly, the (e/d) and (e’/d) phrases shown in Figure 38 are reversed, which occurs—perhaps coincidentally—whenever an iteration occurs over an odd number of cycles. Again, this iteration ends with the familiar cadential phrase (f-i). Figure 39: Third Iteration of Heo-Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong   Phrases ‘j’ and ‘k’ represent new substituted variations; other phrases are identical to those in Figure 38  92  The next iteration (Figure 40, below) provides us with one more example of this method of substituting the opening measures with varying lengths of new material. Note again the similarity of the first two cycles of new material to variations in previously-discussed melodies. Figure 40: Third Iteration of Heo-Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong  Phrases l(l), m(m) and ‘n’ represent new substituted variations; the rest as above  By placing each half-jangdan phrase in Heo’s Heoteuntaryeong into a general taxonomy, we can observe a larger pattern emerging. At the top level of the taxonomy, I categorize phrases by their ending, as shown in Figure 41.  The entire recording consists of seven iterations of the melody. Using the taxonomic categories above, and colour coding identical or similar parts, we can render the piece as in Figure 42.    93 Figure 41: Top-Level Taxonomic Categories for Heoteuntaryeong Taxonomic Designation Phrase Ending A  B  C  (other)   D  Cadential Phrase  Figure 42: Formal Organization of Heo Yong-Eop’s Heoteuntaryeong According to Taxonomic Categories Iteration Taxonomic Designation Number of Phrases in Iteration 1 A A B B B B D 7 2 A A B B B B D 7 3 C B B D 4 4 C C B B B D 6 5 A A B B B B D 7 6 C B B B D 5 7 C C B B B D 6  We can clearly see two larger sections emerge (iterations 1-4 and 5-7), each with an introductory sequence or sequences (Iterations 1-2 and 5), a middle sequence (3 and 6), and a final sequence (4 and 7).  By extending this taxonomy, we can gain further insight into how each iteration is constructed:    94 Figure 43: Second-Level Taxonomic Categories for Heoteuntaryeong Top-Level Designation Second-Level Designation Phrasal Characteristics A  --  Begins in the lower octave or on a rest (rare) a Begins in the lower octave b Begins in the higher octave B c Begins on a rest a Holds on Tae b Holds on upper Im C c Holds on upper Nam  With these categories, we can begin to construct a set of rules for creating an iteration of Heoteuntaryeong (based on entire recording of Heo’s Heoteuntaryeong, only sections of which have been notated here):  1. An iteration can begin with A, Ca or Cb phrase 2. A is followed by Ba or Bc 3. Ba is followed by Bb or Bc 4. Bb is repeated (at least once) and is followed by D 5. Bc may repeat and is followed by Bb 6. Ca is followed by Bb 7. Cb is followed by Cc 8. Cc is followed by Ba  Based on these rules, then, there are four possible ways of creating a typical Heoteuntaryeong iteration:  95 Figure 44: Four Ways of Creating a Typical Iteration of Heoteuntaryeong  Letter designations are based on Figure 43, above.  For the sake of comparison, I applied this analytical methodology to Seo Yongseok’s rendition of Heoteuntaryeong. The phrases are similar to Heo’s and fit readily into my taxonomy, but with quite different results. In this case, using the top level taxonomy, the four phrases may be rendered: A A B B B A D A A B B B B A D C C B B A B D A A B B A D  This looks somewhat similar to one section of Heo’s Heoteuntaryeong, with the exception of the ‘A’ phrase preceding the cadential phrase in three of the four iterations (note also that Seo’s cadential phrase is only one cycle long).  Using the same criteria as above (Figure 43) for the second level of taxonomy, we come up with quite a different set of rules (those identical to Heo’s are bolded):  1. An iteration can begin with A or Cb phrase 2. A is followed by Ba except when leading to a cadence  96 3. Ba is followed by Bb, Bc or cadential phrase 4. Bb is followed by A or Ba 5. Bc is followed by A 6. There is no Ca 7. Cb is followed by Cc 8. Cc is followed by Ba  Since Seo’s method of constructing his iterations of the melody is somewhat less predictable than Heo’s—and we also have less data to work with—it is not helpful to diagram the ways of creating a typical iteration as we did with Heo. At the moment, it is enough to note the many similarities as well as key differences between how the two introduce variation in a non-fixed form melody.  Variation of Melodies in Various Jangdan: Giltaryeong Many, if not most taepyeongso melodies can be adapted to various rhythmic patterns. Of these, perhaps Giltaryeong/Cheonsubara is the most adaptable. In Figures 45a-e, below, I show the first iteration of Kim Jeomseok’s Giltaryeong (Tracks 4-8 of Instrumental Music of [Kim Jeomseok], nd.) in five different jangdan.  97 Figure 45a: Kim Jeomseok’s “Gutgeori Giltaryeong” in gutgeori jangdan  Figure 45b: Kim Jeomseok’s “Taryeongjo Giltaryeong” in taryeong jangdan  Figure 45c: Kim Jeomseok’s “Jajinmori Giltaryeong” in jajinmori jangdan  Figure 45d: Kim Jeomseok’s “Naerimgye Giltaryeong” in naerimgye jangdan  Figure 45e: Kim Jeomseok’s “Hwimori Giltaryeong” in hwimori jangdan    98 The melody is typically gyeong-tori. As in Neunggye Gutgeori and Jajinmori, Jung signals the beginning of the melody. Im is the lowest note in the melodies, and occurs with vibrato at important moments—usually the end of melodic phrases. Nam appears briefly and moves quickly to an adjacent note. Hwang, with Im, plays a key role at important moments. Tae enlivens the melody, executing quick-footed steps between Jung and Hwang. Ends of phrases share the descending contour of other gyeong-tori melodies.  There is a noticeable shift—reflected in the change in notation—between the slower rhythmic patterns gutgeori and taryeong , the medium-paced patterns jajinmori and naerimgae, and the fastest pattern hwimori. In the slower rhythms, Kim is free to embellish the melody—to play more notes, as it were—while in the medium-paced patterns, the melody is simplified in order to adapt to the higher speed. When the jangdan changes to hwimori, the melody shifts to half-time— extending the melody over eight rhythmic cycles rather than four—thus allowing the player more space to again ornament the melody. Of course, hwimori jangdan can be played extremely fast, once again reducing the players ability add ornamentation.  Summary Time and space have limited my ability to analyze other melodies in the gyeong- tori repertoire, and my lack of expertise limits my ability to analyze in greater depth the melodies I have chosen. Attempting to adequately describe the  99 complexity of the melodies in notation is yet another practical and theoretical mountain that I have only begun to climb. I have hoped to illustrate by example the main characteristics of gyeong-tori melodies and a few of the ways that variation is introduced, and to provide at least a glimpse of the deep fascination that these melodies offer.                    100 CHAPTER 5: FINAL SAY  In this paper, I have hoped to provide some new avenues for exploring and appreciating the music of the taepyeongso. In the course of this process, I have provided information, undertaken analyses, and offered opinions that no doubt I will come to rethink as I continue to learn. I hope, at least, that I have been able to impart a little of the love and fascination that I have for the instrument and Korean folk music in general.  If I have one regret, it is that I did not find a larger place in this paper for my favourite taepyeonso player of all: the late Kim Seokchul, former leader of Donghae-an Byeolsingut (east coast purification ritual). The main reason for this omission is, frankly, that I am intimidated by his playing and the prospect of attempting to notate it. When I hear a taepyeongso melody, I can usually identify it immediately as a gyeong-tori, menari, or sinawi melody. Furthermore, I can nearly always identify which specific melody it is, especially in the case of gyeong-tori melodies. This is not the case when I hear Kim Seokchul’s playing. At times, there are clear neunggye references, but a moment later I will recognize elements of either sinawi or menari, or both. His improvisational style is truly unique, and that he has no successor (as a taepyeongso player) is a great loss. In any case, in the future I hope to explore his playing in more detail, and in my playing to emulate at least a bit of his improvisational spirit (even if reaching his level of skill and knowledge is beyond the realm of possibility).  101  With this in mind, I would like to conclude this paper by looking at least briefly at one recorded example featuring Kim Seokchul’s taepyeongso, and relating the melodies to what we have learned in previous chapters about taepyeongso styles. The track discusses is “Chong“ from Donghae-an musok samul (1994). Below, I provide a running commentary of the recording. Note that the melody rarely stays within the limits of the jangdan—phrases begin and end at any point within the rhythmic cycle.  0:10  The taepyeongso enters playing the introductory phrase to Neunggye Jajinmori. 0:19  The first iteration of Neunggye Jajinmori begins; the transitional phrase appears at the end of the iteration. 0:36 The introductory phrase is repeated. 0:42 A new iteration begins, this time starting on Im/Nam rather than Jung; the transitional phrase appears at the end of the iteration. 0:54 A new iteration begins; note the similarity of the opening phrases to the identifying phrase of menari—it seems that we are gradually moving into menari. 1:02 Iterations begin to merge into each other; it is no longer clear where one begins and another ends.  102 1:15 A distinct shift in taepyeongso timbre occurs; either this is a different player or Kim changes to a different taepyeongso or reed; the introductory phrase of Neunggye Jajinmori is repeated. 1:24 A new iteration featuring upper register pitches begins; the transitional phrase appears at the end of the iteration. 1:54 A new iteration begins; the transitional phrase appears at the end of the iteration. 2:03 A new iteration begins, this time starting on Im/Nam rather than Jung; the transitional phrase appears at the end of the iteration. 2:57 Distinct menari phrases begin to appear within the general Neunggye Jajinmori framework. 3:40  Another distinct shift in taepyeongso timbre occurs; either this is a different player or Kim changes to a different taepyeongso or reed; Neunggye jajinmori is continued but transitional phrases no longer appear as regularly. 4:03 More menari-type phrases appear and continue to appear regularly until the end of the recording. 4:31  Another distinct shift in taepyeongso timbre occurs; melody can no longer be identified as clearly Neunggye jajinmori. 5:06 From this point on, the melody seems to have shifted completely into menari-tori, although elements of Neunggye Jajinmori continue to appear. 7:10 Melody shifts abruptly and definitively to sinawi. 8:08 Melody reverts to Neunggye Jajinmori with elements of menari inserted.  103 8:57 Another distinct shift in taepyeongso timbre occurs; recording ends with Neunggye Jajinmori.  This shifting between styles throughout a performance, while not common, is not unprecedented. At the national pungmul competition in Jeongeup that I witnessed in 2007, for example, one of the taepyeongso players alternated between gyeong-tori and sinawi melodies. In Seo Yongseok’s “Samulnoliwa Taepyeongso”, discussed briefly in Chapter 4, Seo shifts repeatedly between gyeong-tori, menari, and sinawi melodies. In this case, however, the different styles seem to have been recorded separately and later spliced together—at a couple of points, the spliced sections briefly overlap and two taepyeongso can be heard simultaneously. Kim Seokchul’s style is unique in that it blends, rather than alternates between, all three styles—it is a fusion rather than a medley.  Kim’s style is compelling also in its use of heavy vibrato and other ornamentation. Pitches are in constant motion, creating an extremely complex tonal soundscape. His tone quality, too, is constantly changing—one is reminded of Kim Seonghak’s description of sinawi presented in Chapter 3, which I reproduce in part again, and with which I conclude this paper: Neunggye is communal: individuality is controlled. Sinawi, on the other hand, represents personal expression. For example, neunggye is like being a little drunk—one enjoys oneself but remains in control. Sinawi is like being completely wasted and being able to express one’s emotion without any inhibition whatsoever…  Sometimes in sinawi, the player will produce a long sigh, and then suddenly yell out… Sinawi has a lot of charisma. It is not controlled by the  104 jangdan, but at the same time is able to create a sort of harmony with the jangdan. It has the power to affect people deeply. Normally, sadness on its own is not enjoyable, but when expressed through sinawi, it can be experienced as a sort of happiness. Sinawi can make any emotion pleasurable.  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A Study of Musical Instruments in Korean Traditional Music. Seoul: National Center for Korean Traditional Performing Arts, 1998.                        110 APPENDIX: KOREAN TRANSLATION OF ABSTRACT  The original English text of this translation appears on p. ii of this paper.  번역  이 논문은 태평소( ‘호적’, ‘새납’, ‘날나리’ 등으로 불리우는)에 관한 것이다. 태평소는 한국의 겹서 관악기로서 중국의 ‘쇠나’와 연관되어 있을 뿐 아니라, 그 유래를 페르시아의 ‘주나’ 로부터 추정한다. 이 논문에서 태평소는 역사적, 이론적, 실제적, 개인적 등 여러 관점에서 연구, 분석되었다. 본 저자는 역사학자, 음악연구가를 위해 태평소에 관한 다양한 자료 및 참고 출처를 정리해 놓았다. 그리고 비 전문 연주자나 열성적인 태평소 음악 청취자를 위해 이론적 이해와 분석적 접근에 관한 방법을 제시하려고 노력했다. 한국에서 국악을 접하고, 심취하여 배우는 과정에서 얻은 소중한 경험들은 태평소의 선율적 구분에 따른 구조와 형식을 이해, 분석하는데 큰 밑거름이 되었다. 이는 세 가지 지역적 특성으로 분류된다. 첫번째는 중부(서울,경기)지방의 능계(경기토리)이다. 두번째는 남도(전라도)지역의 시나위 이다. 마지막으로 동부지역(강원,경상도) 의 메나리가 그것이다. 저자는 각 지역적 태평소 음악유형을 국악의 음계와 선율 즉, 이론적 관점을 반영하여 조사,연구하였다. 그 이후 능계가락을 편곡하고 태평소 연주 음반에 담겨있는 네가지 독특한 변주와 즉흥연주를 설명 하는 등 ‘경기토리’에 중점을 두었다. 또한 태평소 음악분석에 덧붙여 중요한 연주가들의  111 생애 및 업적과 연주순서 목록 그리고 기본적인 악기구조와 연주법을 간략히 소개했다.  Translated by Kim Dongwon (김동원)


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