To close with my discussion of Shakespeare's songs in light of Stephen Sondheim's discussion of the importance of clarity, simplicity and perfect rhyme in song lyrics (which can be found in the opening sections of his 201o book, Finishing the Hat), here's a link to the Songs page from Shakespeare Online: http://www.shakespeare-online.com/quotes/shakespearesongs.html. Give them a read and you'll wonder if Sondheim based his philosophy entirely on Shakespeare. (One could do worse.) And here's a link to a lovely setting, by John Wilson (onetime principal composer of the King's Men), of a song not found on the page above, from 4.1 of Measure for Measure and usually referred to as "Take, oh take those lips away": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65lozTGC0go&feature=related.

Here's another example of how the artistry displayed in the writing of Shakespeare's songs shows a great deal of overlap with the aesthetic theories of Stephen Sondheim, as presented in his 2010 book, Finishing the Hat: In the cleverly titled introductory section, "Rhyme and Its Reasons", he makes a case for the importance of rhyme in lyric writing, and a very specific type of rhyme, "true" or "perfect" rhyme, which he defines as: "two words or phrases whose final accented syllables sound alike except for the consonant sounds which precede them". He goes on to make a case against all of the types of rhyme that are known as "near" rhymes being used in writing songs for the theatre. He quotes another composer-lyricist, Craig Carnelia (best known for his work on the musicals, Working and Sweet Smell of Success), to summarize his case: "'True rhyming is a necessity in the theatre, as a guide for the ear to know what it has just heard. Our language is so complex and difficult, and there are so many similar words and sounds that mean different things, that it's confusing enough without using near rhymes that only acquaint the ear with a vowel... [A near rhyme is] not useful to the primary purpose of a lyric, which is to be heard, and it teaches the ear to not trust or to disregard a lyric, to not listen, to simply let the music wash over you.'"

Now, back to Shakespeare. In yesterday's post, I included Balthasar's song, from Much Ado About Nothing, as an example of another of Sondheim's principles: the importance of simplicity and clarity. But, amazingly, it works just as well as an example of the topic under discussion today. The song contains sixteen lines, with every one of them a part of a perfect rhyme.

Further to yesterday's post regarding the aesthetic principles that have guide Stephen Sondheim's approach to the writing of lyrics (which can be found in his 2010 book called Finishing the Hat), here is a telling quote that may shed some light on not only his own work but on some of the distinctive qualities of Shakespeare's songs, as well: "Poetry is an art of concision, lyrics of expansion. Poems depend on packed images, on resonance and juxtaposition, on density. Every reader absorbs a poem at his own pace, inflecting it with his own rhythms, stresses and tone. The tempo is dictated less by what the poet intends than by the reader's comprehension." (Before going further, I should mention that Sondheim includes a note regarding his decision to use the pronouns "his", "him", etc. to include both genders, "rather than hacking through a jungle of convoluted syntax...") The point of interest here is the fact that with a song, and particularly if it was written for the theatre, the music can't allow a listener to review and reconsider the words the way that poetry can, and therefore one of Sondheim's basic tenets is "Less is More."

OK, now have another look at the song from Love's Labour's Lost posted yesterday, and see if you find, as I do, that the simplicity and clarity that Sondheim values so highly were also thoroughly understood by Shakespeare. And here's more evidence, in the form of the song sung by Balthasar in act two, scene three of Much Ado About Nothing:

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever,

One foot in sea and one on shore,

To one thing constant never:

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,

Of dumps so dull and heavy;

The fraud of men was ever so,

Since summer first was leavy:

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

In Stephen Sondheim's excellent new book entitled, Finishing the Hat (2010), he delineates some of the aesthetic principles that guide his work. Some of these have to do with the differences between poetry and lyric writing, and over the next couple of posts I'm going to see if they apply to Shakespeare's songs, as well. My hunch is that they do, but we'll see. In any event, Shakespeare's songs are often considered as some of the most beautiful to have been written in the language, and I'm looking forward to seeing if I can learn something about the concepts that went into their composition by comparing them with Sondheim's approach. It'll take a bit of time, but I'll try to get it done in the next few days, if I can. In the meantime, for your consideration, here's the song that closes Love's Labour's Lost:

SPRING.

When daisies pied and violets blue

And lady-smocks all silver-white

And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue

Do paint the meadows with delight,

The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men; for thus sings he: Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear!

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws

And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,

When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,

And maidens bleach their summer smocks

The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men; for thus sings he: Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear!

WINTER.

When icicles hang by the wall

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail

And Tom bears logs into the hall

And milk comes frozen home in pail,

When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,

Then nightly sings the staring owl: Tu-whit;

Tu-who, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow

And coughing drowns the parson's saw

And birds sit brooding in the snow

And Marian's nose looks red and raw,

When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,

Then nightly sings the staring owl: Tu-whit;

Tu-who, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

In an interview I saw on television last night, Stephen Sondheim said some very interesting things in regard to his writing process, which is also apparently the subject matter of his new book, Finishing the Hat. One of the points that he made was that no one ever writes a great work for the theater on the first try, because it's only after having done one that the writer realizes the importance of the audience. As he put it, the writer soon learns that the audience is "the final collaborator". Of course, this made me realize (once again) that only a full-time theater professional could possibly have written Shakespeare's plays. They were written with actors and a stage not only in mind, but in use - not amidst tea and crumpets. Of course, one of the central characteristics of Shakespeare's plays is how well they work in front of an audience. And it becomes increasingly evident, as one spends more time with the works, that this was always one of his primary concerns - at least equal in importance with their poetic and philosophical content. (Historical accuracy was not nearly as important to him as these three.) Tomorrow: a comparison to another twentieth-century musician.