To Banish the Earworm: "If We Were Married" by Shaina Taub (1/8/25)

An ear with three arrows containing identical music pointing at it

Last night, somewhat to my morning chagrin, I taught “If we were married” from Shaina Taub’s Suffs (2022) in my Women and Music class. I’d seen the whole musical in the Fall, and this jaunty hit about gender discrimination in marriage back in the 1910s stuck with me. Our classroom take-away: music in good hands can function effectively as feminist critique. However, I had an additional personal take-away: bits of the song have been stuck in my head all morning.

The song is sung in alternation, Dudley leading and Doris providing a gender-informed counter-perspective to each of his observations. It’s a familiar set-up, one most of us would recognize as informing the structure of Stephen Sondheim / Leonard Bernstein’s “America” from West Side Story. In each song, we swing from one perspective to another at a lively clip. Bernstein’s perspective juxtaposes Rosalia’s nostalgia for Puerto Rico with Anita’s tart rejoinders:

WEST SIDE STORY (Broadway lyrics)

ROSALIA: I'll drive a Buick through San Juan.
ANITA: If there's a road you can drive on.
ROSALIA: I'll give my cousins a free ride.
ANITA: How you get all of them inside?

(This is reframed as a dialog of women vs men in both of the film versions, but the song is well worth a re-listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoQEddtFN3Q )

In comparison with Bernstein, Taub’s exchange between Dudley and Doris gives each character more extended space to elaborate on their perspective. She builds an antecedent-spun-out-consequent phrase pair instead of a single phrase each like the West Side Story number:

SUFFS

• DUDLEY: If we were married / I'd promise to cherish you just as a gentleman should
• DORIS: If we were married / I'd promise to forfeit my legal autonomy <syncop> for good
• DUDLEY: If we were married / We'd buy our own acre of land for our own little house
• DORIS: If we were married / Our possessions and property would solely belong to the masculine spouse
• BOTH: If we were married (if we were married) / If we were married

Cherish or forfeit: the gendered nature of the marriage divide is laid out clearly in Taub’s narrative, and the clever rhyming of house with its imagined future of belonging “to the masculine spouse” sets the groundwork of the song firmly into the space of feminist advocacy. Doris is, after all, secretary for the suffragist organization, and so grounded in the bureaucratic and legal realities of women’s (absence of) rights.

But while Bernstein’s “America” breaks into the famous hemiola ( 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1 & 2 & 3 &), Taub uses a different strategy to enliven her narrative. Having already spun out the consequent clause into two units, the second strophe breaks down in the fourth line, as Doris’s iteration of women’s legal and economic oppression refuses to fit to the planned structure. 

• DUDLEY: If we were married / We'd fill out our family, and life would be simply sublime
• DORIS: If we were married / I'd sure have your children, 'cause <syncop> contraception's a federal crime
• DUDLEY: If we were married / We'd save up a nest egg to cushion us later in life
• DORIS: If we were married / My earnings would be in your name / And I couldn't control my own spending / Or open a bank account, or sign a contract, or hire a lawyer / Because economically speaking / I die by becoming your wife
• <PAUSE>
• BOTH: If we were married (if we were married) / If we were married

How does that work? Doris’s frustration with inequality is made manifest by insistent and extended repetition. Instead of an antecedent and two consequent phrases (b1 and b2), we get stuck on b1, which is itself made up of a three note rising motive – for a total of fifteen statements, instead of three!

DORIS: 

•   a    If we were married /
• b1    My earnings would be in your name /
• 2 And I couldn't control my own spending /
• 3 Or open a bank account,
• 4 or sign a contract,
• 5 or hire a lawyer /
• 6 Because economically speaking /
• b2    I die by becoming your wife

We had already known to listen to Doris as the “interesting” partner. She uses syncopation – pausing where we were expecting sound, and then delivering some kind of “kicker” clause. I’d be giving up my rights, she says. For good. It’s a clever rhythmic framing.

The second half of the song has a contrasting segment in which Doris muses about how women buy into the patriarchal system: “Daughters are taught to aspire to a system / Expressly designed to keep 'em under control.” She bemoans the legality of domestic violence within marriage – a situation which surprises Dudley (and in the story line helps to awaken him to the need for the suffrage movement, moving him toward a role of advocacy), asking the kicker: “Can you believe it is 1916 / And all of these things are still actually true?”

Questioning patriarchal systems is serious stuff, but set here to a boppy tune with swing overtones. The humor helps to frame the lesson in ways that the protagonists (and the audience) can hear the disconnect of romance and reality, and recognize for themselves the injustice of that very disconnect.

Why am I writing about it? Because after hearing it, it totally got stuck in my head, particularly the repeated “if” clauses (“if we were married…”) and also Doris’s rolling extension of the second stanza. Both those parts invoke underlying and ongoing worries I have about historical echoes, since injustices from 1916 have uncomfortable resonances with the present day. 

But also, and perhaps more importantly, the tune is just plain sing-songy – simple, approachable, and repetitive without being boring. And it swings. In short, the front part of the song can definitely be classed as earworm worthy!

And now, having paid “If we were married” close attention (yes, brain, okay, we can spend time with it), now I’m going to go put on some Hildegard, and settle into my administrative duties for a while.

Happy listening. May your earworms be pleasant teases for you, just as this one has been for me!

 

Why Sound? (9/30/24)

While my current book project on Thalbach nuns centers on the question of sound and ceremony, my fascination with sound and soundscapes also helped to get me through the duties of my administrative years. As I pondered systematizing my thoughts, I toyed with several strategies (and blog titles, for that matter), and settled on Silences and Sounds as an overarching theme for the topics I want to engage with over the next long while. Today’s post explores sound as a critical element in my way of being in the world.

Why wallow in sound?

• Because I’m a musicologist; sound is my operational focus
  
• Because making sense of senses is a fundamental human activity 
• For the resolutions of jangling discords into bliss, like in this Corelli example from Op. 3 No. 1

Corelli, Op 3 No. 1...

• (If the clip won't launch, you can find it at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mrg3uPORvV8, 1:09-1:31)

Other reasons I'm interested in sound:

• Because … noise, and beauty, and the serenity made manifest in an adagio
• Because I get unutterably curious about representing one sense in another medium. I write ekphrastic poetry, for instance, turning image or melody into the flow of words.

 

On one side, a photo of a gull; on the other, an imagistic poem about gulls feeding after a storm

• Because the outdoors has its own array of noises: crickets, early morning birds, wind through the trees
• Because there is a seasonality to sound, one that I’d like to ponder on some more

An ear and a cupped hand to capture sound

• Because back in the day after a particularly nasty virus, I transmogrified from having super-acute hearing to subpar acoustical detection skills. Surgery helped, but I still sometimes ache for that loss. As a result I think a lot about how one relates to the presence and absence of such stimuli and about the way sound impacts how we perceive the world.

• Because Beethoven’s Heiligenstadt testament touches my soul even though the writing is raw and the human deeply flawed 
• (IYKYK. If you don’t know, here’s a translation [CW suicidal ideation]:https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Heiligenstadt_Testament) 
  
• Because sound persists in memory, shaping and governing the stories we tell ourselves about being our truest selves. 

What are the critically important elements of sound in your life?

Introduction (9/29/24)

 

Buch der Kunst, dadurch der weltlich Mensch mag geistlich werden (Augsburg : Johann Bämler, 1491.08.23), München, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, 4 Inc.c.a. 827, https://www.digitale-sammlungen.de/view/bsb00013341?page=42%2C43 (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

As a monastic historian of the late Middle Ages and early modern eras, I have a natural interest in sound. I come from musicology and am researching historical soundscapes – the world of song and instrument, but also the world of noise and of aural/oral symbols. I ask how that acoustical and symbolic realm shaped people’s lives. 

Wordsworth captures something important, I think when he describes “beauty born of murmuring sound,”* and beauty is part of what I seek to understand. Music making and music enjoyment drew me into questions about the past. I may be a lapsed french horn player, but I can still enjoy a good Mahler horn lick, or the sweet-sounding cornetti in a Monteverdi production, or the singing of chant in a deeply resonant cloister hall.

But fascinating too is the press of activities with their less-ordered noises. We can ask with Shakespeare, “What stir is this? What tumult’s in the heavens? / Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?”** and think on the arrival of Joan of Arc in the context of Henry VI Pt 1. Shakespeare here treats sound as a marker of beginnings and endings (and sections and segments, for that matter). Other forces too announce themselves through the audible: the complexities of the bustling marketplace, the thunk of a closing door, or the tolling of bells.

Eco-acoustical experiences also hold meaning – sometimes external, sometimes self-generated. I’ve often considered the huffing outrage of a disturbed deer on my pre-dawn walk, or indulged myself with the soothing amorphousness of the sound-cloud (shhhhhhHhhhhHhhh) associated with waterfalls, or the dramatic crack and hiss of summer storms. Sound shapes our experiences, both indoors and outdoors. I’m curious about how people tried to organize and understand that sensory experience in the context of both their daily and their ritual lives. Silence too has its place in this realm, suggesting the quiet peace of a morning walk or the sudden absence of sound in a cleverly syncopated passage in a Haydn symphony, or the conscious decision to let words drift away in favor of some inner insight.

The question of sound and ceremony drives my current book project, which is centered on the women’s convent of Thalbach in Bregenz on the shore of Lake Constance. Thalbach was founded in 1346 as a household of “devoted sisters” (like nuns but without formal vows), and in the very late 16^th century became Franciscan Tertiaries when the bishop demanded it. I’m investigating their active involvement in civic ceremonies. For instance, they are often called on to sing at families’ gravesides and to “walk over the graves” in procession. Thus, they make a nice case study for looking at the three-way intersection of music and sound, identity, and social context. After all, women performing collectively in the 15^th century, supported by their fellow townsfolk. How cool is that?

I live on a hobby farm (Fish! Chickens! 12-foot weeds!) with my husband Tom. We have successfully homeschooled our three children through to their college days and now delight in their post-collegiate adventures and identities. I’m a lark, which does help with getting writing done. So does the coffee, which is one of the delights of life. I read, as much and as often as I can, and occasionally more than that. I’m hoping to use this blog to motivate my own focused reading (and writing) practice as I get ready for more sustained writing of chapters, conference papers, and books.

Given the blog’s function as an expansion-of-perspective tool, what do YOU think I should be reading – on sound, on silence, on monastic life, on life’s meaning?

* Wordsworth, “Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45559/three-years-she-grew

** The arrival of Joan of Arc, Shakespeare, Henry VI part 1, I.4 https://www.folger.edu/explore/shakespeares-works/henry-vi-part-1/read/1/4/