This book may not be written by me. But it's there for anyone to do it if you have the impulse. I may be in a place to write it, but I'm in no hurry and I may not last long enough. The book I'm thinking of is on the impact of the idea of a deciphering key for the te'amim. Think the Mind of the Maker and communicating with ancient designers of musical notation. Creator to creator -- Performance to performance -- Energy to energy -- i.e. trinity and incarnation. You could even provide probabilities. Why did those engineers put a golden CD in the Voyager?
Oh well, this is a blog -- not a book. But there is a lot of data in it. My tags are fair but limited, but the search blog is comprehensive -- if a little too much at times.
Suzanne Haïk-Vantoura and I are not entirely in agreement about the interpretation and resolution of ornaments. She, for instance, allows her musical judgment to let an ornament just be a dip or a rise on a single note. Maybe. She also (sometimes) allows for placement of the accent to make a difference. Also maybe. Some aspects of design are more highly prone to copying error than others.
Here's her appendix note on Lamentations 1:1.
|
| From The Music of the Bible Revealed |
She and I disagree here. Her musical intuitions on a note by note basis are not programmable, at least by me.
I programmed my interpretation of the Unicode so my e-brain is not always fully attuned to the nuances of placement in a sign or identity of shape in the 2 cases where signs are the same above and below the text. This may be an error in my thinking and programming. Unicode, (see the coding here) even though deficient in managing little short strokes like silluq, has been more careful in distinguishing Geresh from Geresh Muqdam and Pashta from Qadma than I have been in my programming.
The above is slightly unreadable and somewhat out of its context - i.e. lacking in explanation. But this brief chapter is totally comprehensible - please let me know if you disagree. Especially if you would like to collaborate on a book. Anyway, at the time of pushing the publish button, I am still quite alive -- if more silent than usual.
