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TWO

The Dynamics of Rhythmic Form

The word “dynamic” can take on many different meanings in English. We often use it as an adjective to describe people. A person with a dynamic personality is someone who is full of energy and vitality. A dynamic person leaves a lasting impression on others; she is active, quick with ideas, and commands a presence. We also use the term to describe processes of change. A dynamic economy is one that bustles with activity. It has exhibited significant change, perhaps in moving from import-led to export-driven, or in the larger shift from an agricultural to an industrialized economy. While this does not preclude the inevitability of hiccups and downturns, a dynamic economy is more commonly associated with indications of further development and growth. Here, “dynamic” signals active change and progress. And along similar lines, in academic discourse, the term dynamic can also describe “a force that stimulates change within a system or a process.”¹

In music, there is a common usage for the term, which can either take the form of a noun or an adjective. Dynamics refer to the acoustic volume of a sound. Dynamic contrast in musical performance means performing at higher and lower levels of volume. Or, in other words, it is simply the contrast between loudness and softness. Composers incorporate dynamic markings in the score to indicate the desirable dynamic level for a passage. Dynamics are relative, rather than absolute designations for volume or amplitude. In standard notation for Western classical music, a marking of pianissimo followed by a fortississimo would instruct the performer to render passages in contrasting levels of amplitude—one passage played very softly and another delivered at an extremely loud volume.

Other fields also claim the word “dynamic.” In physics and classical mechanics, dynamics refer to the study of motion and the forces that produce it. In linguistics, dynamic verbs describe actions, whereas stative verbs describe a state of being. Sociologists and psychologists consider group dynamics to analyze social group behaviors and processes. And computer scientists deploy the term in relation to programming, systems, and web pages. While many more examples can be summoned, the point to draw out here is that there is a constellation of meanings for “dynamic.” The common ones include motion, change, action, energy, and volume in sound. Even despite the word’s multivalence, we know intuitively what dynamic does not mean. Dynamic does not mean static. Nor is it dull or monotonous.

I spend time parsing these different meanings because “dynamic” is a word that is commonly used to describe samul nori. First, it is a strikingly frequent descriptor found in books, CD liner notes, programs, newspaper articles, and concert reviews. It is also a word that many people have used when describing their own first encounters with a live samul nori performance. Third, as I explain in chapter 3, South Korea’s first national slogan—Dynamic Korea—became sonically linked to the genre in the early 2000s.² After many years of hearing this word in relation to samul nori in my interviews and conversations with fans and practitioners, I began to wonder: what is so dynamic about this percussion genre? And does this help us to understand how a musical genre from South Korea has come to be adopted and adapted by amateur musical communities around the world? In response to the latter query, this book answers in the affirmative. As for the first, my interpretation unfolds in this chapter.

AN INTRODUCTION TO “YŎNGNAM NONGAK” AND SAMUL NORI

Here I examine a popular samul nori composition called “Yŏngnam nongak” and show how this music is organized. In so doing, I also build the case for how the piece exhibits distinct qualities in its formal structure—qualities that have lent it to circulation or travel across boundaries. I develop an analytic based on “dynamism” and demonstrate that “Yŏngnam nongak” is an example of a dynamic rhythmic form. Other compositions in the samul nori repertory (while they are not the focus of this chapter) share these same formal properties. Rhythmic form, I argue, is central to the samul nori genre, and it is a dynamic rhythmic form that has been central to its mobility.

My attention to form is deliberate. But I do not intend to narrate a story in which form is the sole protagonist, acting alone. This is the farthest from the case. As we have previously learned, the Space Theater was the creative seedbed for the SamulNori project and their explorations of Korean rhythm. SamulNori’s process of arranging, rearranging, and recontextualizing rhythmic patterns from p’ungmul led to what eventually would become known as samul nori. Thus, the form that I will describe is interleaved with the musicians who first breathed life into it, and who performed it with such verve and kinetic energy. My formal analysis of “Yŏngnam nongak” takes into consideration the other important actors of the story—the SamulNori quartet and, in particular, Kim Duk Soo. In this sense, Dynamic Korea offers an opportunity to witness the pairing of two distinct methodologies that are not usually cast together—ethnography and formal analysis. I contend that there is much to learn from this conversation.

Before moving to the analysis, however, I provide some general background on “Yŏngnam nongak” and its significance in the context of global samul nori. I select this piece for analysis because it is very often the first samul nori composition that beginning students will learn to play as part of an ensemble. (I also return to this piece in chapter 5.) Unlike the “Sŏl changgo karak,” which is played exclusively on the changgo hourglass drums, “Yŏngnam nongak” is a representative composition that features the interplay of the four primary instruments of samul nori. SamulNori Hanullim’s self-published notation books designate “Yŏngnam nongak” as the first or the “fundamental” piece of the series (Samul-Nori Hanullim 2004). In SamulNori Hanullim’s pedagogical system, students must learn “Yŏngnam nongak” before advancing to the more complex pieces known as “Uttari p’ungmul” and “Honam udo nongak karak.” The composition provides challenges for the initiate (for example, memorizing the different rhythmic patterns and the sequential order, “feeling” the rhythmic groove, and learning to play as part of an ensemble), yet it is surprisingly surmountable with the proper instruction and adequate practice. In short, “Yŏngnam nongak” is accessible, and it is likely the most performed samul nori composition by amateur ensembles within and outside South Korea.

First, a note on instrumentation. To form a standard samul nori ensemble, four percussion instruments are needed: a double-headed hourglass drum (changgo), a barrel drum called puk, and two gongs—one large (ching) and one small (kkwaenggwari).³ As earlier mentioned, these are the core percussion instruments (played with sticks called ch’ae) that are also featured in p’ungmul. Each instrument in a samul nori ensemble has a different role to play in the musical texture. While a minimum of four musicians on the four different percussion instruments is required for a piece such as “Yŏngnam nongak,” instruments such as the changgo and puk can be performed by multiple players. In a group consisting of beginners and intermediates, for instance, students of various levels can select instruments according to one’s respective level and strengths. A beginner might opt to learn an instrument such as the puk, which plays more of a supporting role in the ensemble. And a beginning-level student with a good sense of rhythm could take on the ching. Although it has the least active part, the ching serves a critical role in the ensemble by punctuating the primary beats of the rhythmic cycles. Intermediates or beginners could perform on the changgo, which requires some technical proficiency and a capacity for memorizing different rhythmic patterns, known as karak. Of the four, the kkwaenggwari part is typically reserved for the designated leader or the person with the most training. The kkwaenggwari player must keep track of the number of beats in a designated karak, the number of repetitions of this pattern, and think ahead toward successive patterns.⁴ It is also the job of the lead kkwaenggwari player to provide cues to the other members; these cues signal the last iteration of a cycle and the start of the next one.

As one of the fundamentals of the samul nori repertory, “Yŏngnam nongak” includes features that make it fun and appealing for amateur enthusiasts. There is built-in rhythmic complexity, repetition, an acceleration in tempo toward the end, and the chance to bang away on drums and gongs. Once students are able to play their respective instruments, the process of learning to perform as a group can be a gratifying experience. Each instrument has an independent part (or a different way of rendering a karak) that must be learned separately. But when “Yŏngnam nongak” is played in ensemble formation, the changgo, puk, ching, and kkwaenggwari function together as part of a larger, interdependent unit. Progressing through the various rhythmic patterns, for instance, the four instruments weave into an almost polyphonic musical texture. This texture is not shaped by tonal counterpoint (as heard in conventional Western polyphony), but rather by the timbral sounds produced by four different instruments made of leather and metal. Perhaps this may be best described as a percussive polytimbral texture—where distinct percussive sounds interact in a way to produce varied timbral contours. Additionally, a rhythmic “groove” emerges when performers are able to fully synchronize their beats within a cycle.⁵ All these combined elements make for an exciting piece to learn and perform.

Thus far, I have been using the term “composition” or “piece” to categorize “Yŏngnam nongak.” While this is by no means incorrect, the terms “arrangement” and “adaptation” may be equally valid descriptors. In Korean, the words chaegusŏng (“reconfigure” or “restructure”) and chaech’angjo (“re-create”) are frequently used to describe the first musical explorations by the SamulNori quartet in 1978–1982.⁶ A more colloquial term, tcha’da (“to form or organize”), is also employed by musicians.

The first presentation of what eventually became known as “Yŏngnam nongak” was an arrangement of existing rhythmic patterns drawn from a specific region of South Korea. Yŏngnam (meaning “south of the mountain range”) is the former provincial name for the southeastern swath of the peninsula. It is bordered by the expansive T’aebaek Mountains to the north, the Sobaek Mountains to its west, and two disputed bodies of water—one to the east (East Sea / Sea of Japan) and one to the south (Korea Strait / Tsushima Strait). Present-day North and South Kyŏngsang Provinces constitute the Yŏngnam region (figure 2.1).⁷ Partly owing to its physical borders, Yŏngnam/Kyŏngsang is known for its colorful dialects (generally characterized by strong accents and dramatic fluctuations in intonation), cuisine, politics, culture, and, of course, music.

The rhythmic patterns featured in “Yŏngnam nongak” hail from a regional style of p’ungmul called Chinju Samch’ŏnp’o nongak. Although it has been associated with other labels, Chinju Samch’ŏnp’o nongak refers to both the name of a regional band and the representative style of p’ungmul performed in the Yŏngnam/Kyŏngsang region. The term nongak (literally, “farming music”) is sometimes used interchangeably with p’ungmul.⁸ Thus, Chinju Samch’ŏnp’o nongak is understood as the style of p’ungmul practiced in the southern cities of Chinju and Samch’ŏnp’o.

After performing their first arrangement of rhythms from South Korea’s central Uttari region, the two main percussionists (Kim Duk Soo and Kim Yong-bae) were encouraged to continue their experimental musical endeavors in the months following. Choi Jong Sil [Ch’oe Chongsil] and Ch’oe Chongsŏk, brothers from the southern port city of Samch’ŏnp’o, were then invited to join the quartet. They replaced Yi Chongdae and Ch’oe T’aehyŏn, who were trained in wind and string instruments, respectively.⁹ Raised as percussionists in the nongak tradition of their local town, the Choi [Ch’oe] brothers served as faithful guides for the next (ad)venture—an adaptation of Chinju Samch’ŏnp’o nongak for percussion quartet.¹⁰ The collaboration resulted in an arrangement entitled “Sibi-ch’a samsip-yuk karak” (twelve sections, thirty-six rhythmic patterns) that was premiered in April 1978, and then repeated on March 1, 1979, and renamed “Kyŏngsang nongak.”

Chinju Samch’ŏnp’o nongak is one of five regional styles of p’ungmul that have been designated as “Intangible Cultural Heritage” by the South Korean government.¹¹ This style of p’ungmul (also referred to as maegu kut) exhibits the historical residue of the role p’ungmul once held within the Korean military. Martial legacies can be witnessed in the retention of particular flags, a buglelike instrument called the napal, tasseled hats known as sangmo, and rhythmic patterns that were once used to marshal troops into choreographed formations. The rhythmic patterns are thought to be powerful and energetic, with a general tendency to accelerate and crescendo toward the conclusion of a section. Like other versions of p’ungmul, Chinju Samch’ŏnp’o nongak is performed outdoors, by a large number of musicians and dancers. Performances involve the playing of particular rhythmic patterns (karak), which are repeated as cycles for an indefinite number of times. Depending on the event, a performance can last for several hours. Despite this variability in terms of duration, there is a basic organizational structure to Chinju Samch’ŏnp’o nongak that features twelve sections with distinct rhythmic patterns, functions, and choreographies.

FIGURE 2.1 Map of provinces in South Korea. © Indos82 | Dreamstime.com

FIGURE 2.2 Minsogakhoe Sinawi program from March 1, 1979. Photograph courtesy of SamulNori Hanullim.

Section 1: Obangjin

Section 2: Ŏllimgut nori—tadŭraegi

Section 3: Pŏkku nori (Samch’ae tŏppaegi)

Section 4: Kil kunak

Section 5: Yŏngsan tadŭraegi

Section 6: Mŏt pŏkku nori

Section 7: Tŭngmajigut—tadŭraegi

Section 8: Anjŭn pŏkku nori—tadŭraegi

Section 9: Hohogut

Section 10: Kaein yŏngsan kut nori

Section 11: Pyŏlkut nori

Section 12: Hŏt’ŭngut (hyech’imgut)

It is this rhythmic repository that the quartet of musicians drew upon to create the seated arrangement of “Kyŏngsang nongak” in 1978. With the elder brother Cho’e Chŏngsok on the lead kkwaenggwari part, the younger Choi Jong Sil on ching, and Kim Yong-bae on puk and Kim Duk Soo on changgo, the quartet performed the arrangement again at the Space Theater on March 1, 1979 (figure 2.2).

The reverse side of the program (not pictured) identifies the different sections that appeared as part of the presentation of “Kyŏngsang nongak”:

Section 1: Ŏllimgut nori

Section 2: Kil kunak nori

Section 3: Pan kil kunak nori

Section 4: Tŏppaegi pŏkku nori

Section 5: Pan tadŭraegi

Section 6: Chajin ŏllim pŏkku nori

Section 7: Yŏngsan tadŭraegi

[NEW SECTION: PYŎLGŎRI TALGŎRI]

Section 8: Obangjin nori

Section 9: Kutkŏri nori

Section 10: Tŏppaegi nori

Section 11: Ssangjinp’uri (Hohogut)

Section 12: Samch’agut nori (Kaein nori)

Even for those without a working knowledge of Korean or an understanding of Korean rhythm, a cursory glance at table 2.1 reveals some similarities and many differences between the two columns. Taking into account that the sequential order has been reconfigured in column B, one notices that some sections are identical or nearly identical (e.g., yŏngsan tadŭraegi; ŏllimgut nori; kil kunak), whereas other sections bear only a passing resemblance to each other—a mere syllable or word are held in common. One of the most noticeable differences between the two is the inclusion of a new section, called pyŏlgŏri talgŏri, in column B. In the program, pyŏlgŏri talgŏri appears in parentheses, marked as separate from the rest of the sections. Ironically, this new additional element would later become one of the characteristic sections of the “Yŏngnam nongak” piece, in its global iterations.

TABLE 2.1 Comparison of the formal structure of p’ungmul (Chinju Samch’ŏnp’o nongak) and samul nori “Kyŏngsang nongak” versions