You will never again fail to write impeccable melodies and flawless four-part harmonies.
How to Compose a Perfect Chorale by the Progressive Deformation of a Pulse
Being an astonishingly simple (and apparently infallible) seven-step method, of Baroque four-voice composition, requiring no knowledge of music beyond the understanding of a triad, and requiring no musical skill beyond the ability to play one pitch on any midi-keyboard while slowly reciting any fragment of the 1611 King James Psalter; a lesson demonstrated in approximately two minutes and thirty seconds (of audio, with midi and Ableton files included); a method developed, tested, and proved for two decades in the Improvisational Choir of the Reformed Puritan Church, and now published in the public domain, for the edification of all the rest of my musical friends, and whomsoever they want to share it with.
by Pastor Francis Alexander Hammer, Soli Deo Gloria
First, an iambic (or otherwise metrical and poetic) holy text must be performed on the root of the key, at half the speed of ordinary speech. “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want,” repeated twice, will serve our purpose perfectly (as will also any fragment of the 1611 Original King James Psalter, which you shall choose for your own compositions, hereafter).
Now, diatonically and within the bounds of one octave, deform the pulse into a melody, using only stepwise motion and intervals not exceeding a fifth. Make your final note, “do,” preceded by “sol,” “re,” or “ti.”
Next, simply add a parallel fourth, sixth, and octave beneath every note of your melody.
Now, likewise deform the bassline, from parallel into contrary and oblique motion against the above three voices, vertically limiting your choices to the above three tones, and horizontally never exceeding a jump of a fifth. Make your final note, “do,” or “sol.”
Drop the bassline one octave.
For further variety and richness, likewise deform the parallel motion of either or both of the inner two voices, wherever and however you please, only make sure the arbitrary result is always a full triad with only one voice doubled.
Now lift the bassline back up one octave, allowing the arbitrary unisons that shall appear (quite comfortably) in the lower registers. Your chorale is now complete and impeccable, even according to the highest historic standards of four-part harmony and basso continuo.
With Love and Wishing You a Happy New Year,
Alex
PS
While my former treatise, Paradisus, is intended for the lifelong training of the most dedicated and ambitious composers, and may take several years of drilling and improvisational play adequately to result in thoroughly amazing and groundbreaking compositions, my above treatise is especially written for the training even of small children, how they may attain instantaneous and impeccable results, which meet the full requirements of the strictest schools of harmony, and which defy the notion that melody is a thing of rare genius, a skill which cannot be quantified or taught.
Whereas if you simply recite aloud from the Psalms at about half the speed of ordinary speech, while using the natural accents of the syllables, and hitting “do,” on your keyboard, and then deform that pulse comfortably and diatonically, making your final note, “do,” (preferably preceded by “sol,” “re,” or, “ti,” or even ,"la,") you certainly will not fail to satisfy the highest standards of melody and of cantus firmus. I know it sounds like I am describing a miracle, but this process is entirely canny and perfectly natural, and I have never seen it fail, in over twenty-two years of leading a full choir and congregation, of constant vocal improvisors.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you that every Sunday morning, for over two decades, each non-infant member of my congregation takes his or her turn fearlessly, in front of everyone else in the church, singing a cappella spontaneous solo-improvisations, of perfect classical melody, even without the need for the first step of this method, and without the need for a keyboard!
They each simply glance at the next Psalm-verse, and on the spot, compose a perfect melody, connecting it to the improvisation of the last verse, which was sung by the person standing next to them, in their duo, trio, quartet, or other small-group. We do this for up to two hours some Sunday mornings, just preceding the ministry of the Word and Sacraments (yes, Reformed Puritan services are very long, generally lasting all day, and including at least one intermission and an evening meal). The spontaneous melodic inventions, of even the least skilled of these musical laymen (none of my congregation are professionals) only once in a blue moon requires my intervention and correction, and that is generally only on account of the failure of their inward ear to remember where “do” is, since we never use any instruments in our ordinary worship besides the human voice. (Not that we are doctrinally against the use of instruments in worship, but we have learned that we have far more fun in their absence, and cover far more new ground by the avoidance not only of instruments but also of any written notes. In twenty two years, we have never sung the same melody twice.)
Again, I know this is remarkable in the extreme, but the phenomenon is real, and I strongly urge you—and your church, if you have one—to give through-composed improvisational solo a cappella psalmody a try. You will probably amaze yourself. In fact, I will be very surprised if you do not amaze yourself. We generally start the morning with a Baroque improvisation and end with a holler-song or jazz improvisation, which two genres require both liberties and restrictions added to the above process, about which I have not yet written any treatise, for now it just happens naturally, by imitation of the pastor, in call and response.
The reason why this manner of composition works so easily and so well is that the perfect lyric always does all the heavy lifting for the composer. In Paradisus I call such melodic poetry, “the fifth device,” and though this device is not “primitive,” as are the other four (see Paradisus), its mastery is equal in importance, if not paramount, for any composer’s skillset.
Now in this above latest treatise of mine, I have explained how, by the simple addition and methodical deformation of three parallel pitches beneath such a melody, you will certainly compose an impeccable chorale. This also I have tested in small groups at church, and it works, though it may consume a few hours for the novice-composer to complete his or her first full-sized hymn, whether through-composed directly from David, or with repetitions of metrical rearrangements of those verses (which takes much more time, and a mastery of Elizabethan English which only the aptest of my congregation have attained to over the past several years.)
We all hope and pray that you will learn and love this method which has brought us so much joy and musical power over the years, and that this time-tested process will be a life-changing blessing, both to you and to everyone with whom you feel inclined to share it. (Like, for instance, the entire faculty of Berklee, and every single Live Piano Avenger you know. Really, it would be a shame to keep this from any of your musical friends, don’t you agree?) Be sure to let me know how it works for you, and do not be shy about contacting me for help, especially if anything is unclear. I will rewrite this treatise in a heartbeat, in order to overcome any failing in the process which you might discover.
Also, the more advanced and learned practitioner of the above (so far infallible) default method of chorale composition will very soon be able to assign multiple notes to a single syllable, and also to stretch and squeeze the time of the melody beyond the half-speed of ordinary speech, and also spontaneously to modulate to other keys, and then back again to the home key. Such modulation is most easily achieved by first hitting any one of the five non-diatonic tones in your home key, then hitting the tone just one half-step above it, which will cause that above half-step to sound as the new root—we call this method, “pinching a ‘do,’” and unless we are doing jazz or be-bop, we mostly sharp the “fa,” in order to go to the five, or sharp the “sol,” in order to go to the relative harmonic minor, in our improvisational a cappella singing.
Lastly, just in case anyone is wondering how, in my above composition, I “got away with” direct motion into a perfect consonance (of a unison), it is simply by maintaining the contrary motion of the left and right hand. That is how Bach did it too, and it is believed that he taught his students this technique from the basso continuo (or figured bass, or thoroughbass) methods of Friedrich Niedt, which I have also trimmed and assimilated in my former treatise, Paradisus.
Let’s all keep on learning and teaching! It is my honor to be the messenger of anything useful to my fellowman and especially to my musical friends. 😊
All related media can be found in this Dropbox link: https://www.dropbox.com/sh/yyk472t84dil0d6/AABuuzAZraqiIo28xD9SYjhHa?dl=0
