From plainchant to post-romanticism, harmony exists in virtually all forms of music except unison folk singing. However, the richness, subtlety and power of harmony to move the soul and mind remain a closed subject to most people. Shrouded in mystery and technical complexity that conquers even some classically trained musicians, it appears that only a few hundred exceptional composers had real grasp of the subject.
Certainly in the classroom, at school or in universities and music colleges, there are trained, intelligent music teachers and professors who know the subject of harmony inside out. But when it comes to possessing the ability to utilise the thousands of harmonic nuances and techniques required to produce outstanding music, it is a different matter. And there is a vast difference between understanding how Mahler spun his own personal universe of sound, and being able to do so oneself. The measure of the true master is one not merely of memory and understanding, of knowledge and competence. The true master brings forth innovation out of convention, solid method from disobedience. The master is a maker of laws, an explorer of possibilities and a pioneer of boundaries. Yet, as master, the principles of order and meaning are retained. Only a master can forge new methods and tread new ground, whilst remaining true to the honour and integrity of the subject.
In short, the master works within his subject’s acceptable universe, but succeeds in extending that universe further. The technician, in the meantime, achieves nothing new but does so in an acceptable and skilled manner. And the one who has not studied the subject remains outside the subject’s acceptable universe, not knowing the way in.
The roots of harmony are, perhaps, psychological and most certainly lost in antiquity. But its purpose and significance are clear to anyone who attempts to listen only to melody lines for any appreciable length of time. After a few moments the ear and mind become closed; there is just so much a melody line can achieve without rambling repetitively and in an aimless fashion. It is no accident that the most complex and lengthy compositions are set out for combinations of instruments, whilst unaccompanied instruments end up with terser repertoire. Even the educated musical ear does not care to listen to twenty minutes of unaccompanied sound from a single source. A fact that undoubtedly contributes to the reluctance of all but the most determined beginners to complete sufficient amounts of practice time on their chosen instrument. Unless it is an instrument such as the piano that, by providing its own harmony, acts like several instruments.
Harmony, therefore, relieves the monotony of melody, providing far more musical substance than even complex melodic writing can. And the more complex and ingenious the harmony is, the more interesting the music becomes. Harmonic variety and development take the composer’s ideas to places that no melody line could have, allowing greater range of expression and creative logic. And – if correctly paired with the melodic material – more extraordinary richness and amplitude of sound and invention are delivered by harmonic engagements, than would otherwise have been possible.
I stated that the roots of harmony are possibly psychological and lost in antiquity. Let me clarify this. When humans made their first tentative explorations in music (whenever that was, since nobody knows exactly), all they had available were voices and implements that could be hit. Singing and percussion are thus music in its most basic, simple and naive manifestation. The earliest songs were without form or refinement, accompanied only by non-pitched noises from a drum or stick. As humanity grew out of this ignorance, voice gave rise to melody – a strand of differently pitched sounds arranged in a pleasing and cohesive pattern. The accompanying percussive instruments developed into an array of tools that made different sounds and could be struck, hit or tapped in patterns too; rhythm was born.
With the concept of melody at his disposal, mankind discovered that certain objects could also produce pitched sounds like the human voice; hollowed out bones or wooden sticks, sinews of various lengths stretched across a frame, animal shells and reed grasses. Even early man listened to the world around him and heard natural melodies interweaving with one another. Gradually people who had sung individually began to sing collectively. They discovered that certain combinations of sounds were good, certain combinations evoked particular emotions and sensations whilst others were not pleasant. And these early pioneers in music, standing on the shores of a vast ocean of sonic potential, found out that if they varied the size of the musical instruments they created they could play them in the various ranges of the human voice. The bigger the sounding area, the lower the pitch.
Rhythmic elements became inextricably linked with the human race’s fondness for melodic pattern; the poetry of sound required its own unique metre. In order to make sense out of a string of pitched notes, some had to be shorter than others, an underlying pulse was necessary and certain pulses in the metre demanded clearer emphasis than others. Harmony became the layering of these elements into a texture allowing personal input from each musician, yet producing accord between them.