Yes, I figured out that the answer was $96 right after I posted my last blog entry, but your way is a lot more logical than how I went about it. Cameron, I need to got your email address so we can talk. Oh, and the dream I had about a cross-dressing Cameron was about a different Cameron, FYI.
A few days ago I felt like being random, so I asked one of my favorite authors on fanfiction.net if I could borrow her Erik for an afternoon to help me with my music theory homework. She agreed, and I wrote a sketch about it. Plus, it actually helped me remember everything. So now whenever I think about direct octaves, I'm going to imagine Erik getting really mad at me.
I want you all to read it, but I doubt any of you would go to it if I linked it, so I'll just paste the whole thing in. Just a note, the Emily in the sketch refers to the Emily that I borrowed Erik from, not myself.
Saturday. Such a wonderful day, Saturday. It was just another Saturday, a day filled with homework and chores. Fun, fun. Except that it actually wasn’t. Because this Saturday was different. Erik’s coming over!
I completely cleaned my room. I threw all of my sister’s stuff out of it, and vacuumed. Everything was going to be perfect for Erik’s arrival. But I couldn’t figure out whether or not I should cover up the mirror on my closet door, and if so, how.
I wasn’t quite sure what time Erik was coming over, so I decided to start on my geography homework. I had to read one of Jules Ferry’s speeches on French imperialism in the late 1800’s and answer a few questions about it. I was halfway through answering the questions when a voice behind me says, “What a freak. He’s saying ‘superior races’ have a duty to wipe out all the ‘inferior races’?”
Of course, I totally freaked out. I was surprised someone was in my room because I thought I was alone, and then to hear this absolutely amazing voice right in my ear was an experience I’ll never forget. I spun around in my chair so quickly that I hit my arm on my desk and fell out of my chair. Then I saw him. Erik. The Angel of Music. In the flesh. In my bedroom. That fact that we were still in my bedroom disproved the notion of me having died and gone to Heaven.
I was in shock. I stared at his intelligent green eyes, and his sensuous mouth, his thin but well-muscled frame, his hands. I used to fantasize about Erik’s hands because they were supposedly so amazing, but that adjective doesn’t do them justice. His fingers are abnormally long and thin, bony jointed, and pale skinned. But what he can do with those hands! Make the most exquisite music, build the sturdiest building, pull the funniest prank on Carlotta, or hold a pencil and write my music theory homework for me.
I’d love to make this account extremely romantic and say that I fainted and he picked me up and put me on my bed, tenderly caring for my scraped elbow, but that didn’t happen. Unfortunately. What really happened is that I blushed so much I was certain I had turned purple. Erik ignored me and went to pick up the paper with Jules Ferry’s speech on it. He skimmed the page, flipping it to the back. “The audacity of it all…” he muttered.
His lips moved. It may not sound like all that, but trust me, it was. I don’t know what I wanted to do more: make him speak again, or just kiss him. Luckily for him, I managed to restrain myself by reminding myself that Emily would kill me if I even thought about such things.
I picked myself up off the floor, running my finger through my hair to make sure it looked okay. I realize now how stupid that was, for Erik is the last person in Heaven or on Earth to judge anyone on their appearance. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t quite think straight. Erik finished reading, and he turned to look at me. I was lucky my knees didn’t give out.
Then he spoke again. “Marin School of the Arts presents ‘Hamlet’?” he asked as his visible eyebrow rose.
I was extremely confused. Then I realize he was reading off of my sweatshirt. “Oh. Yeah,” I replied, looking at my sweatshirt. “It’s my school play. I saw it last night.”
Erik lost interest in the subject and turned back to have one last penetrating look at the copy of Jules Ferry’s speech. He then put it down and picked up the red folder on my desk. “What’s this?” he asked.
“That’s my band folder.”
“Oh yeah. You need help on your theory homework,” Erik remembered.
“Yeah,” I said, pulling out my theory homework. “Here it says that parallel 5th and octaves are bad, but then on this page it says they’re okay.”
Erik took the packet and began reading, “‘The reason Examples 5-11a and 5-11b are unacceptable in the tonal style is that they contain parallel 5ths and 8ves. Although such parallels regained acceptance in the twentieth century, composers of tonal music generally followed the convention, dating from around 1450, of avoiding parallel 5ths and 8ves as well as their octave equivalents, such as 12th and unisons. Note that this does not rule out the duplication of a line at the 8ve, which was common in orchestral writing. The reason for avoiding parallel 5ths and 8ves has to do with the nature of counterpoint. The P8 and P5 are the most stable of intervals, and to link two voices through parallel motion at such intervals interferes with their independence much more than would parallel motion at 3rds or 6ths.’” He thought about what he just read and said, “Well, that makes sense to me. Do you have any questions so far?”
“If parallel 5ths and 8ves are acceptable today, why am I learning this?” I asked.
“Because they still sound bad, even if they are generally acceptable today,” Erik answered patiently. “Shall I continue?”
I nodded.
“‘We can deduce a rule of parallel motion: objectionable parallels result when two parts that are separated by a P5 or a P8, or by their octave equivalents, move to new pitch classes that are separated by the same interval.’”
“So objectionable parallels are bad?” I asked.
“Yes, hence the name objectionable parallels,” Erik answered.
I blushed again, but Erik didn’t notice because he began reading again. “‘If you apply this rule to the three parts of Example 5-12, you will find that all of them are acceptable. In Example 5-12a, the soprano and tenor do not move to new pitch classes, whereas in Example 5-12b, the 5ths do not occur between the same pair of parts. Finally, the parallel 4ths in Example 5-12c are allowed, even thought a P4 is the inversion of a P5.’”
Erik read a lot more, but I kind of lost interest in what he was saying because I was still stunned by his appearance in my bedroom.
Time passed. I don’t know how much time passed because I was slightly in a daze from the sound of his voice. I snapped out of it when Erik touched my hand. I looked at him. He said, “Are you paying attention? Are you even listening to me?”
I didn’t move. Erik was touching my hand. I sensed he was getting annoyed with me, so I pretended I didn’t care. “Yes, of course I’m listening.”
“Then what did I just say?”
“You asked me if I was listening to you.”
Erik sighed and I lost my breath for a moment. He let go of my hand and turned back to the paper. “Here’s a review section. ‘What do we mean by the focal point of a melody?’”
“The highest note,” I answered.
Erik picked up a pencil and wrote down the answer.
“‘What scale degree is the strongest tendency in tonal music?’”
“7th chords always lead to 1st chords.”
“Good. ‘In a four-voice texture, adjacent upper parts should be kept within what interval?”
“An octave.”
“‘Under what circumstances are unequal 5ths unacceptable?’”
“What are unequal 5ths?” I asked, confused.
“Weren’t you paying attention?” Erik scolded as he flipped back to the page about unequal 5ths. “Unequal 5ths is when the music goes from a P5 interval to a tri-tone, or vice-versa.”
“Okay…” I muttered, still very confused.
“It says here that unequal fifths are acceptable unless they involve a °5-P5 between the bass and another voice,” Erik answered for me.
“Oh, I get it…” I lied.
“Then you better get this last one right,” Erik said. “‘What are direct octaves?’”
I had no idea. I shifted uncomfortably, “What are you going to do if I get it wrong?” I asked, feeling very small.
“I’m going to get very frustrated with you,” Erik answered, tapping his fingers impatiently.
“You’re not going to leave, are you?”
Erik grumbled, “Emily will get mad at me if I don’t help you finish, so no, I won’t leave.”
I felt a lot better, even though I still didn’t know the answer. In fact, I couldn’t even remember what the question was. I sat down on my bed. “I forgot the word,” I said quietly.
“Direct octaves,” Erik repeated, looking at me with a cold gaze.
I couldn’t meet his gaze. Looking away, I said, “I don’t know.”
Erik threw the pencil down, “Weren’t you paying attention? Everything in this packet is perfectly clear! I read the whole thing to you! Why didn’t you stop me if you didn’t understand something?”
I felt like crying. Erik, my idol, the Angel of Music, whom I had dreamt about so many times and been obsessed with ever since I first heard of Phantom of the Opera, was mad at me. My whole life seemed pointless. I wanted to curl up into a little ball and die. Okay, maybe I’m overreacting. But I did feel like crying.
What was I supposed to say to him? Proclaim my love for him and tell him I couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying because I was so madly in love I couldn’t concentrate on anything when he was so near? No, I couldn’t say that. He’s got a girlfriend already.
“I don’t know,” I said again.
Erik muttered something.
“I do not have ADD!” I exclaimed, indignant.
“…Yeah,” Erik said sarcastically.
“So are you going to tell me the answer?” I asked timidly.
“No. Since you weren’t paying attention, you’re going to read the entire packet over and then answer the question. Then we’ll move on,” Erik instructed.
“But that’s like, over ten pages!” I complained.
“Hey, if I read it, then you can read it too,” Erik shot back, throwing the packet at me.
Sulkily, I took the packet and scooted to the other end of my bed, away from Erik. I tried to ignore him and read the packet as quickly as I could, but I didn’t comprehend anything that I was reading.
Erik got up and looked around my room for the first time. “Wow, you sure like cats,” he muttered, looking at my collage of 593 pictures of cats spanning across two walls.
I pretended to be mad at him and said, “Shhh, I’m reading.”
Erik ignored me and walked over to my bookcase. He scanned the titles and papers on various shelves, getting a sense of what my interests were. “Cats, science fiction, architecture, music, and Phantom of the Opera,” he listed the most common themes of my bookcase.
“That’s great, but I’m trying to read,” I said.
Erik was quiet for a few minutes as he flipped through some floor plans I sketched. Then he became bored and walked over to me. To tell the truth, my room is very small. He didn’t really walk, more like he just pivoted and he was on the other side of the room.
The stood next to me, watching me read. I couldn’t focus, so I looked up at him. He was bored. He took the packet from me and flipped to the page about direct 5ths and octaves. Then he pointed to the paragraph with the definition. I read aloud, “‘Direct 5th or 8ve results when the outer parts move in the same direction into a P5 or P8, with a leap in the soprano part.”
Erik nodded and brought the packet to my desk so he could write the answer down. “Okay. Now it says, ‘Label the chords in the excerpt below with roman numerals. Then label any examples of parallelism that you can find.’”
I got up and leaned over Erik’s shoulder so I could see the excerpt of which I was supposed to label the chords.
“So what’s this one?” Erik asked, pointing with the pencil to the first chord.
I looked at the notes. “Um, G, so that’s I.”
“Good. Keep going,” Erik said.
We went through all the chords and circled the parallels before moving on to the next exercise. The next exercise was to find and label various errors in the music. It was tough, but I kind of understood and we suffered through it without getting mad at each other again. Finally, we finished the work and got to the last page. It was a summary of the chapter. Erik made me read it because he was afraid I wouldn’t understand it if he read it. I wanted him to read it because his voice was so beautiful. We compromised and agreed that Erik would read it to me and then he’d quiz me a little.
“‘Chords in tonal music are produced by the motions of individual musical lines, and the manipulation of these lines is called voice leading or part writing. A closely related term is counterpoint, which refers to…’” Erik’s voice washed over me, and I fell into a phantasmagoric state. Unfortunately, summaries are quite succinct, and Erik was finished reading after a few minutes.
I snapped out of the trance caused by Erik’s voice and thanked him for helping me, “Thanks so much, Erik! I bet now I’ll be the best in my class.” But then I realized I already was. “Erm, I’ll be so good, I’ll have to move up a class or two.”
Erik tried shrug off the praise, but I could tell that he was pleased by my words. “Do I get a hug?” Erik asked.
I don’t know if my reaction was to faint or to throw myself on him. Instead, I returned his hug nonchalantly and took in his famous spicy scent. I guess I hugged him too long because he kind of pulled me off of himself. Nevertheless, he smiled at me. I think for sure I fainted at this time, because the next I remember is lying on my bed with a red rose in my hands.
I hope you liekd it! ttyl!
