UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI
Date:______
I, ______, hereby submit this work as part of the requirements for the degree of: in:
It is entitled:
This work and its defense approved by:
Chair: ______
A Play of Style: Comparing and Contrasting Neoclassicism in Selected Piano Solo Repertoire in the 1920s
A Doctoral Document Submitted to the
Division of Graduate Studies and Research of the University of Cincinnati
In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirement for the Degree of
Doctoral of Musical Arts
In the Division of Keyboard Studies of the College-Conservatory of Music
May 22, 2006
by
Sha Wang 222 West McMillan Street, Apartment 4 Cincinnati, Ohio 45219
B.M. Chapman University, 2002 M.M. University of Cincinnati, 2004
Advisor: David C. Berry, Ph.D
Reader: Frank Weinstock, Professor
Reader: Robert Zierolf, Ph. D
Abstract
The 1920s was the golden age of a style of composition often called neoclassicism, which
was represented by the works of such composers as Igor Stravinsky, Paul Hindemith, and Sergei
Prokofiev. Neoclassicism is often associated with an attitude against nineteenth-century
Romanticism, which frequently employed lush orchestration, chromatic harmony, and extra-
musical associations. Many works of the 1920s adopted an opposing style; however, neoclassical
works of the time, while sharing many common features with one another, also embraced differences in musical language, such that neo-tonal as well as some expressionistic and serial works fit the term.
This document focuses on a sampling of the solo-piano repertoire from this era by some
German and French composers. These works are often underappreciated by concert pianists, for they do not necessarily display virtuosic or technical brilliance. However, through my detailed analyses, I hope to encourage musicians and audiences to give a fresh look at these works and to appreciate their unique qualities and artistry.
©Copyright 2006, Sha Wang
All Rights Reserved
Acknowledgment
I would like to acknowledge significant professors and mentors who made this document possible. I would like to express my deepest and most sincere gratitude to Document Committee Chair, Dr. David C. Berry, Committee members
Prof. Frank Weinstock and Dr. Robert Zierolf for their endless efforts and help through years of mentoring and guidance. A special dedication to Mr. Harmon
Wilkinson, my long-time sponsor and friend, for he showed me the real way of living a meaningful life. Finally, inexpressible gratitude to my amazing parents,
Shangjie Wang and Yuanchao Liu, whose bravery and unconditional love are the very reason for everything I have achieved. My gratitude also goes to Nadine
Wilkinson, Richard Sisley, Mary Liu, Karen Knecht, and many others I fail to mention.
Table of Content
Prologue
Page
Chapter 1: From Cocteau’s “Every-Day” Music to Stravinsky’s Neoclassicism 2
Act I – Two Russians in Paris
Chapter 2: Sonata 1924 by Stravinsky and Sonata No. 5 by Prokofiev 10
Chapter 3: Sing and Dance with Serenade in A and Divertissiment 21
Act II – And There Were the Germans
Chapter 4: Dance with the Past? Schönberg’s Walzer 31
Chapter 5: Schönberg’s Suite, Op. 25 and Hindemith’s 1922 Suite für Klavier 42
Act III – Contratanti Finale
Chapter 6: Style without Boarders 52
Bibliography 56 2
Prologue
Chapter 1: From Cocteau’s “Every-Day” Music to Stravinsky’s Neoclassicism
The musical style called “neoclassical” traces its origin to the turn of the twentieth century. As the curtain drew to a close on the nineteenth century musical stage, the European music scene was still overwhelmed by the after effects of late nineteenth-century Romanticism.
From Berlioz and Liszt, to Wagner and Mahler, the words “grand” and “virtuosic” exerted dominance. As traditional tonality was pushed to the limit, the personal egos of composers, who were continuing the legacy of their national music and liberating it from foreign influence, led to eclectic compositional styles in the twentieth century. In reaction to the dense textures, tremendous orchestral force, and intense chromaticism that emerged in the previous century, some French artists stood apart with a return to order and a “New Simplicity.”1
According to the French poet Jean Cocteau, the work of French composer Erik Satie
(1866-1925) provided an ideal example of this new simplicity. Cocteau remarked that Satie had
“cleared, simplified, and stripped rhythm naked.” Being “sick to death of flabbiness, fluidity, superfluity, frills, and all the modern sleights-of-hand,” he had “voluntarily abstained in order to remain simple, clear, and luminous.”2 Here Cocteau describes the very essence of the “New
Spirit” or “New Simplicity” in early twentieth-century Parisian artistic circles. In Cocteau’s collected essays, A Call to Order, he observed that “Satie teaches what, in our age, is the greatest audacity, simplicity [....] Enough of clouds, waves, aquariums, waterspirits, and nocturnal scents;
1 Scott Messing, Neoclassicism in Music: From the Genesis of the Concept through the Schoenberg/Stravinsky Polemic (Michigan: U.M.I Research Press, 1988), 77. 2 Ibid. 3
what we need is a music of the earth, every-day music.”3 A work that exemplifies this new style is the ballet Parade. This collaboration of Sergey Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes, Cocteau’s story,
Pablo Picasso’s setting, and Leonid Massine’s choreography, presented audiences with an every-
day street scene featuring entertainers, acrobats, and popular music. This “new spirit” also
excited a young group of composers, who came to be known as “Les Six”: Tailleferre, Milhaud,
Honegger, Durey, Poulenc, and Auric. Though their compositional directions differed from each
other, the common approach in their music is “light in tough, direct in approach, and free of the
pretensions of the concert hall.”4
In Germany the Wagnerians were still triumphant; the heroism of Richard Strauss’s music was still receiving applause. However, the emergence of a new style was well documented in novelist Thomas Mann’s essay in 1911:
But I think about the masterpiece of the twentieth century and something occurs to me that differs very importantly and, as I believe very favorably from Wagnerism – something that appears logical, structural, and clear; something that is equally austere and serene; something not from so petty a will as his, but from a fresher, nobler, and healthier spirituality; something which finds its greatness not in the Baroque or colossal, nor its beauty in frenzy – a new classicism, it seems to me, must come.5
This anti-expressionist inclination is also described as “neue Sachlichkeit” (new objectivity),
which was adopted not only in music but also in other artistic disciplines.6
As the golden age of Neoclassicism began to dawn after the First World War, the
simultaneous rise of the Second Viennese School of Schönberg, Webern, and Berg seemed to
separate them from the rest of European composers. Their innovative use of serialism is often
considered revolutionary. However, one should not erect rigid barriers between the Second
3 Robert Morgan, Twentieth-Century Music (New York: Norton & Company, 1991), 159. 4 Morgen, Twentieth-Century Music, 162. 5 Messing, Neoclassicism, 63. 6 Arnold Whittall, New Grove Dictionary, 2nd edition online. s.v. “Neo-classicism,” available at http://www.grovemusic.com, accessed on 5 January 2006.
4
Viennese School and the Parisian composers, between Serialism and Neoclassicism, and
between those working in German and French regions. Though of seemingly opposing
compositional styles, such composers as Schönberg and Hindemith both returned to order,
balance, and structure – to some the most essential musical elements of the Classical Era. The
common ground shared by such different composers lays in their connection to the past and the return to traditions.
In spite of occasional tensions among composers, Stravinsky later stated that “We
[himself, Schönberg, Webern, and Berg] all explored and discovered new music in the twenties, of course, but we attached it to the very tradition we were so busily outgrowing a decade before.”7 Indeed, Stravinsky’s unique Neoclassical style did not start with Pulcinella (1919-20),
a work that overtly borrowed from eighteenth-century musical sources. As early as his
collaborations with Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes, the modernistic use of Russian folk music and
dances already foreshowed his later musical style. Les noces (1917-21), the piece that is often used to mark the end his Russian period, is saturated with neoclassic elements, such as the reduced texture and the reuse of the peasant’s dances. In fact, the inheritance of Russian
nationalism was combined with a vernacular-oriented compositional approach in later works
such as Piano Rag-Music (1919) and Ebony Concerto (1945).
The Germans were even more greatly connected to the past. Schönberg saw himself as the successor of Beethoven, Brahms, and Mahler. As he commented on his own harmony treatise, his new way of organizing pitches was as much evolutionary as any other chromatic harmonic development:
My Harmonielehre did not speak very much about “atonality” and other prohibited subjects but almost exclusively about the technique and harmony of
7 Igor Stravinsky and Robert Craft, Conversation with Igor Stravinsky (NY: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1959), 145. 5
our predecessors, wherein I happened to appear even stricter and more conservative than other contemporary theorists. But just because I was so true to our predecessors, I was able to show that modern harmony was not developed by an irresponsible fool, but that it was the very logical development of the harmony and technique of the masters. 8
His idea of “ensuring the supremacy of German music for the next hundred years” was rooted not only in the novelty of serialism, but also in the balance between the old and the new. Such examples can be found in the combination of serialism and Baroque dances in Piano Suite, Op.
25 (1921-23) and the use of sonata form in the first movement of the Wind Quintet, Op.26
(1923-24).
If the continuation of nationalism, symphonic traditions, and genres are reminiscent of past musical attributes, a unique “remaking” of the past is what defines each composer’s personal style. With Stravinsky’s Pulcinella (1919-20) and Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony
(1916-17), overt reuse and distortion of baroque and classical compositional styles is not so different from that of the post-modern period a half-century later. What foregrounds the “neo” part of neoclassicism is the return to tonality (or the use of “neo-tonality”) and traditional forms that are guided by aspects other than traditional tonal organizations.
Thus, the differences between the Germanic and French composers are undermined by “a more fundamental unity: a common preoccupation with older music and shared musical means for expressing it.”9 As Joseph N. Straus has written, despite an apparent neoclassical-progressive dualism, “We are becoming increasingly aware of the common structures that underlie the obvious stylistic diversity of the music of these five composers [Stravinsky, Bartok, Schönberg,
8 Joseph Straus, Remarking the Past (Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1990), 3. 9 Straus, Remaking the past, 2. 6
Webern, and Berg]. They share both a preoccupation with the musical past and strategies for
coming to terms with it.”10
Now that we recognize this fundamental unity, we can take a further step and examine
the different strategies through which neoclassical styles have been realized. In general, musical
elements such as form, genre, tonality, and style—along with the musical styles of specific
composers—were juxtaposed with modernistic compositional techniques, thus creating a new
style of composition. To cite a few specific examples: Musical forms and genres, such as
symphony, sonata, and suite, were often reemployed by composers, in combination with
modernistic compositional technique, as in Stravinsky’s Symphony in Three Movements (1945)
and Sonata 1924. Baroque dances, such as “Sarabande” and “Gigue,” are redefined in a whole
new fashion in Schönberg’s Piano Suite, Op.25. Tonality is often suggested, but distorted in a
modernistic way. For example, tonal centers, rather than true tonics, are present in Stravinsky’s
Symphony in C and Serenade in A; and bitonality, a superimposition of two independent tonal
centers, can be found in Hindemith’s 1922 Suite für Klavier. Musical styles from specific periods
can be used in reconnecting with the past as well. Stravinsky’s Dumbarton Oaks (1938) looks
back to the Baroque concerto grosso; his Symphony of Psalms (1930) uses Latin text and combines Renaissance biblical resources and Beethovenian symphonic texture (orchestra and voice). For these same reasons, Prokofiev’s First Symphony is called the Classical Symphony.
This neo-stylistic compositional approach was carried even further when Stravinsky started recalling musical styles of specific composers, such as eighteenth-century composer Pergolesi in
Pulcinella (1919-20) and Mozart’s Così fan tutti in the opera Rake’s Progress (1951).11
10 Ibid., 3. 11 Straus, Remaking the Past, 5 7
Because neoclassical compositions attempt to return to the simplicity, balance, and order
of a bygone era, some might question their artistic creativity and integrity. In other words, is neoclassical music simply a historical and stylistic throwback? In the article “Neoclassicism and
Its Definitions,” Pieter van den Toorn raised the question of organicism in the neoclassic repertoire.12 Steven Cahn, in Variations in Manifold Time, also pointed out the struggle that artist
and writers face in dealing with “the nature of historical consciousness and the effects of
historical consciousness upon creative vitality.”13 In the process of assimilating of the past,
where does integrity and originality fit in? The answer has not been a consistent one. In the
polemic titled “Schönberg is dead,” published in 1951, Pierre Boulez attacked music by
Stravinsky and Schönberg and pronounced their music dead, for they both wrote in a “dead”
musical form (sonata). A half-century later, however, following the rise of the “new consonance”
in the 1970s, the innate creativity and integrity of music that “remakes” the past was generally
agreed upon.
In sum, neoclassical compositions are neither simple nor retrospective. The ingenuity and
novelty of these works lie in their modernistic treatment of past materials. The purpose of this
document is to acknowledge and demonstrate further the uniqueness and modernism of
neoclassical compositions, taking examples from the piano repertoire.
Neoclassical piano pieces have encountered greater resistance than neoclassical
compositions for other instruments. Comparing to neoclassical symphonic or chamber
compositions, the piano works are often studied but less frequently—or even rarely—
programmed on public concerts. The reasons are both historical and personal. The piano, as a
12 Pieter Van den Toorn, “Neoclassicism and Its Definitions” Music Theory in Concept and Practice (NY: University of Rochester Press, 1997). 13 Steven Cahn, Variations in Manifold Time: Historical Consciousness in the Music and Writing of Arnold Schoenberg, Ph. D. diss. (NY: University of New York, Stony Brook, 1996). 8
solo instrument, became a device for virtuosic display in the nineteenth century. Beethoven,
Chopin, Liszt, and other Romantic composers increased the difficulties and virtuosity of piano
playing. Though prominent in chamber music, the piano became especially popular as a solo
instrument, and those who mastered the instrument were worshiped as celebrities. This
circumstance prompted the second reason for the unpopularity of neoclassical piano works: pianists’ egos. Pianists dream of becoming the next Liszt, Rubinstein, and Horowitz; and frankly, some believe that playing Stravinsky’s Serenade will not get you there. With Liszt,
Rachmaninoff, and other composers’ virtuosic music to choose from, it is not surprising why
neoclassical piano works have been relegated by many concert pianists.
Accordingly, one goal of this document is to raise the awareness of pianists and
musicians. Although these works may not display certain technical aspects of pianism, their
musical and historical value should not be underestimated. More broadly, the goal of this
document is further to examine works from the neoclassical piano repertory in terms of unique
approaches to neoclassical writing and how they are related to each other in the employment of
previous styles and genres. Through the analysis of six piano compositions by four composers, I
aim to trace their common language as well as to define their unique attributes so that they may
be better understood and appreciated (which may perhaps lead to their being more frequently
performed and heard in concerts).
The composers that will be examined in the document are Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971),
who lived in Paris during this era and became the leading feature in this new compositional style;
Sergey Prokofiev (1891-1953), a Russian composer, who spent some time in the United States
before moving to Paris in 1923; Arnold Schönberg (1874-1951), a Viennese composer who saw
himself as a direct successor of Beethoven and Brahms; and Paul Hindemith (1895-1963), the 9
enfant terrible of the 1920s in Germany whose avant-garde style was replaced by his new theory
of composition, demonstrated in his Unterweisung im Tonsatz in the 1930s.14 The compositions to be analyzed in detail are Serenade in A (1925) and Sonata 1924 by Stravinsky; Sonata No. 5
(1923) and Divertissiment (1925/1938) by Prokofiev; Walzer, Op. 23 No. 5 (1923) and Suite for
Piano, Op. 25 (1925) by Schönberg; and 1922 Suite für Klavier, Op. 26 by Hindemith. All six works are associated through a common underpinning. They all use some of the most common traditional musical elements, whether form, tonality, or style. However, their individualities lay in the unique “remaking” of these elements, thereby demonstrating different types of neo- classicism.
Unlike with serial music or traditional tonal music, there are no standardized analytical protocols for analyzing neoclassical compositions. Therefore, a combination of set theory, twelve-tone methodologies, Schenker-oriented graphs, and traditional analytical tools will be used in facilitating the discussion. As the title suggests, the discourse will be structured like a play: as the present prologue draws to a close, three acts will follow Act I, “Two Russians in
Paris”; Act II, “And Then There Were the Germans”; and Act III, “Concertante Finale,” which will conclude this document and further point out the necessity of giving these great works the theoretical and musical attention they deserve.
14 Morgan, Twentieth-Century Music, 222. 10
Act I – Two Russians in Paris
Chapter 2: Sonata 1924 by Stravinsky and Sonata No. 5 by Prokofiev
Sonata, as a genre, originated in the canzona at the end of the High Renaissance and the beginning of the early Baroque. Sonata da chiesa (sonata for the church) and Sonata da camera
(sonata for the chamber) have formal designs that are appropriate for its particular functions. It
was not until the Classical Era that the genre evolved into what we often refer to today as “sonata
form,” or “sonata-allegro form.” Developed in part by C.P.E. Bach and highly elevated by
Haydn and Mozart, sonata form gradually evolved into a design that became a blueprint for
composers over the next 250 years. Almost all great composers thereafter (Beethoven, Schubert,
Brahms, Liszt, and others) sought their identities by trying to compose the best sonatas. Because
of its long tradition and much standardized formal design, sonatas in the twentieth century
prompted an artistic struggle in being original and respecting the past. This highly favored genre
naturally became popular for neoclassical composers in the 1920s. Two sonatas will be analyzed
in this document: Sonata 1924 by Stravinsky and Sonata No. 5 by Prokofiev. Both works are
quintessentially neoclassic and embrace the sonata genre in many ways, such as through thematic
and tonal design. However, before looking further into the similarities and differences between
these two works, we have to acknowledge the formal and tonal blueprint of this genre in the
Classical Era.
A traditional sonata normally consists of three movements: fast-slow-fast. The first
movement is often labeled “allegro” and thus is often called “sonata-allegro form.” Example 2.1
shows the blueprint for the first movement of a traditional three-movement sonata. The three
11
essential parts of the movement are the exposition, development, and recapitulation. The tonic is
expected to be established in the primary theme at the beginning of the movement. A transition
will effect modulation to a closely related key, often the dominant in major keys and the relative
major in minor keys; this will lead to the medial cadence (MC), which is often a half cadence in
the new key. The secondary theme is in the new key and is usually more lyrical and melodic. The
exposition ends with a closing theme reinforcing the new key after a perfect authentic cadence
(PAC) in the new key, called the Essential Expositional Cadence (EEC). The development may
have a full rotation of the materials from the exposition. However, it is not uncommon to have
just fragments from the exposition. A variety of keys are expected in the development. A re-
transition, often signaled by the use of a long dominant pedal point, leads the piece back to the
recapitulation in tonic. The thematic materials in the recapitulation correspond to those of the
exposition, except that all themes are expected to stay in tonic. Instead of an Essential
Expositional Cadence (EEC), it is an Essential Structural Cadence (ESC) at the end of the
secondary theme. A coda, consisting of previous thematic materials, is often attached at the end
of the movement.1
Example 2.1
A traditional sonata-allegro movement:
Exposition: (Introduction) Primary theme Transition Secondary theme Closing theme :║
I or i MC V or III EEC in V or III
Development : Re-transition Full rotation of P and S, or fragments from the Exposition, in a variety of keys. V/ I or i
1 These terminologies in analyzing sonata form are developed and generally acknowledged as a collaborative work by Hepokoski and Darcy.
12
Example 2.1 (continued)
Recapitulation: Coda Primary theme Transition (no modulation) Secondary theme Closing theme I or i MC I or i ESC I or i I or i
The second and third movements have several possible formal designs. The middle
movement can be in a slow sonata-allegro form, with or without a development. It may also be in
the form of theme and variations. Such is often the case in the sonatas by Haydn. The last
movement can be in a faster sonata-allegro form, just like the first movement. It also can be in a
rondo form or a combination the of two: sonata-rondo.
Sonata 1924 by Stravinsky has a close relationship to these traditions, not only in its
thematic designs, but also in its tonal organizations. On the broader level, the piece has three movements: fast-slow-fast. Movement I is in sonata-allegro form; the second movement is in A-
B-A ternary form; the last movement is a neo-Baroque two-part invention. Each of the three movements has a tonal center of C, A-flat, and E. This third relationship naturally reminds us of works by Beethoven or Brahms. It is also evident on a local level within each movement.
Example 2.2 shows the formal design of movements I and II. The C-a relationship in the exposition of the first movement and the E-flat in the false recapitulation establish a symmetrical third around the pitch center C. This kind of symmetrical third is often found among Germanic composers in the Romantic era. Such is case in the first movement of Brahms’s Third Symphony.
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Example 2.2
a. Movement I from Sonata 1924
Introduction (mm.1-12) Exposition (13-40) Primary theme Transition Secondary theme 13-21 22-31 32-40 Pitch center: C-C C HC in a a
Development (41-90) False Recap.(91-135) True Recapitulation (136-158) Primary theme Secondary theme 136-46 147-59 a-B-E/c#-A b-Eb-d-Eb-E-g C G/g
Introduction as coda (159-170) C
b. Movement II
A B A (mm.1-12) (mm. 13-39) (mm. 40-51)
a a’ b b’ a a’ (highly varied) 1-6 7-12 13-26 27-39 40-44 45-51 Pitch center: A-flat C A-flat
In addition to the traditional aspects, there are modernistic aspects that earn it a “neo-
classical” label. In Sonata 1924 this label is evoked by tonal ambiguity, which is created in large
part by contrapuntal linear displacements and treatment of ornaments.
By contrapuntal linear displacement I mean that each melodic line might be suitable for strict contrapuntal combination, but by realigning (or “misaligning”) the lines dissonances are created. This aspect is especially effective at cadential points. The following example demonstrates this type of displacement, taken from m. 158 of the first movement.
14
Example 2.3 Linear displacement at cadential point in Movement I (m. 158):
Voice-leading scheme: The “corrected” version: Stravinsky’s version:
At the left is a hypothetical voice-leading model that moves from E-flat minor to tonicize C minor. In the middle is an elaboration with arpeggiations for the left hand and octave displacement for the right hand. At the right is Stravinsky's version, in which the top and bottom lines are stretched apart horizontally, creating contrapuntal displacement. This device is expanded in the last movement. As shown in Example 2.4, at mm. 19-20 the displacement is created by setting the left-hand music as an augmentation of the right. This pattern continues in the following seven measures, producing a mensuration canon.
Example 2.4 A mensuration canon in Movement III (mm. 19-25):
The ratio between the left hand and the right hand is 2:1, except in m. 23 where the ratio becomes 1:1 in order for the left hand to catch up with the right hand. Although the dissonances are present, this neo-baroque use of canon suggests a Bachian quality. However, the ingenuity of
Stravinsky is in not using this contrapuntal displacement alone, but instead combining it with conventional counterpoint practice. For example, in the first movement, a rather conventional voice exchange can be found at mm. 32-33 between G and E, prolonging the E-minor harmony.
15
This integration of traditional and modernistic uses of counterpoint reflects, from a different angle, Stravinsky’s neo-classicism.
Another unique aspect of the Sonata’s neo-classicism is ornamentation and quasi- improvisational passages. Both compositional devices are typical of the Baroque Era. Stravinsky borrowed these elements and refashioned them to create a neo-Baroque style. As example 2.5a shows, the tremolo in m.14 of the first movement displaces the B an octave lower than the C: what should have been a minor-second trill becomes a minor ninth. This octave displacement is even more evident in the second movement. As example 2.5b illustrates, the high B natural grace note would have been, in a traditional manner, set in a lower octave as a lower neighbor note to
C. This octave displacement, however, prepares for the arrival of B-flat one beat later as part of the G-diminished triad.
Example 2.5 Ornaments with octave displacements in Movement I:
a. b.
The use of improvisational passages in the second movement is quite unconventional as well. In traditional tonal music, improvisations are often erected upon established supporting harmonies. In other words, the improvised voice is often some type of diminution of the supporting harmonic progression. In Stravinsky’s Sonata, however, we see a disjunction of the harmonies in the bass and the improvisational voice. For example, in the second movement the bass clearly outlines a C-major sixth triad, while the right hand plays diminutions outlining first
G-major then F-major triads. A similar example can be found in m. 10 of the same movement, where the left hand outlines a G-major sixth triad and the right hand suggests a D-major triad.
16
Such superimpositions, however, are not unsystematic. They are usually fifth-related tonal centers and often share at least one common tone.
To summarize, the traditional aspect of Sonata 1924 lays in its rather conventional use of sonata form; its modernistic aspects are conveyed through contrapuntal linear displacements and treatments of ornaments and improvisational passages.
Sonata No. 5 by Prokofiev, on the other hand, embodies a different set of characteristics.
Also written in the 1920s, it consists of three movements: Allegro tranquillo, Andantino, and Un poco allegretto. From the tempo markings of each movement, we can already notice the uniqueness of this work. It is among Prokofiev’s few sonatas that are light in character and devoid of his bombastic, percussive nature. Without any Baroque canon or invention,
Prokofiev’s approach to form and tonality is somewhat bold and direct. His idea of reusing the past is best shown in his treatment of form, motives, and harmony.
Prokofiev stayed rather faithful to the traditional sonata-allegro form. However, his style of composition is epitomized by the modernistic twists he added to the form. Example 2.6 shows the thematic organization of the exposition. Without looking at the score, this formal plan could well describe a sonata by Mozart or Haydn. The clear delineation of the sections with appropriate cadences and key areas puts it in the category of a very traditional sonata form. In the a’ section, the repetition of the opening phrase at a higher octave resembles a feature of sonatas for piano and violin by Mozart. Here the modernistic twists are related more to harmonic events. A signature moment happens in mm. 6-7, where the tonal center abruptly shifts to E-flat and, through whole-tone parallel-octave chords, back to C. What should have been E minor (iii/C) is transposed a half step down to E-flat. This sudden shock to the tonal scheme is further reinforced by the whole passage. The tonal confusion is escalated in m. 8 with the use of F-sharp, and
17 before anyone can realize what is happening, the return of the opening of material “snaps” the listener back into the world of C major. Example 2.8 shows the whole passage, which leads to the return of the opening phrase (a’).
Example 2.6
Exposition: A (Primary Thematic Area) B (Secondary Thematic Area)
a a’ tr. b b’ c c’ k 1 9 17 24 25 35 46 51 57 (MC) (EEC) Tonal center: C e a
Example 2.7. m. 7 of Mov. I
In the development we can see that Prokofiev’s treatment of tonality is anything but conventional. Example 2.8 shows the tonal outline of the first part of the development. The focus here is obvious the use of tritone. After the “expected” tonal centers in the exposition, the ambiguity between E and B-flat is exploited and escalates through the tonal center exchanges between the hands, shown in Example 2.9.
Example 2.8
Development:
18
Example 2.9
This emphasis on the tritone is carried out on a larger formal level. The tonal centers of the three movements are C-G-flat-C. The second movement, which is a 3/8 waltz-like dance, creates a broader tritone relationship with the outer movements. This use of dissonances counterbalances the diatonic tonal plan in the exposition and other internal sections.
Like Stravinsky, Prokofiev also experimented with compositional devices of the past, such as motivic augmentation and inversion, as well as harmonic prolongation. As shown in
Example 2.8, the opening sixteenth note motive appears in augmentation at the beginning of the development. Moreover, it is inverted melodically at mm. 89 and 90. Harmonically, a kind of prolongation—similar to that of Sonata 1924—can be found in this work. Example 2.10a shows the beginning of the B section and example 2.10b and c show how tonal center E is prolonged by each hand.
Example 2.10a Beginning of B section, prolonging tonal center E 55 5 5 5 5
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Example 2.10b (left hand) 2.10c (right hand)
The E is prolonged by its diatonic and chromatic neighbor notes and finally resolves to A in the
C section, which leads to the EEC at m. 56. This cadence in A resembles those in Stravinsky’s
Serenade in A, which will be discussed in the next chapter. Comparing the cadence from the end of “Rondoletto,” the third movement of Serenade, and the EEC from Prokofiev’s Fifth sonata, this following example shows similarities in their voice leading and the very essence of cadencing in a neo-classical manner. In other words, the sense of cadence is not achieved by a conventional harmonic progression, such as V-I, through various voice-leadings directed toward pitch A. The tension built by the chromatic neighbor tones and dissonant intervals resulting from the superimposition of these notes is released and resolved once the pitch A finally arrives.
Example 2.11
Cadence from Rondoletto EEC from Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 5
To summarize, the neoclassical aspects of Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 5 are achieved in ways similar to those used by Stravinsky. By infusing traditional sonata form with modernistic treatments there is a balance between the old and the new. From a motivic standpoint, reoccurring rhythmic and melodic motives and their variation, such as through augmentation and
20
inversion, resemble Stravinsky’s practice, discussed earlier. From a harmonic standpoint,
Prokofiev’s unique juxtaposition of pure diatonic passages from different keys is truly
extraordinary. He successfully combined the traditional tonal plan and the modernistic elements
within the realm of sonata form. All of the above displays his unique approach to neo-classicism.
Some similarities can be found between the two composers. Both revisited one of the
most common genres from the previous eras; both experimented with the structure of the form;
and both employed their own harmonic language. These works were the product of a historical
era in which the idea of revisiting the past became a way of justifying an anti-Romantic approach
to composition. However, it is not accurate to say these works do not convey emotions. Instead,
they embody a sense of lightness, and this detachment from the overwhelming Romanticism of the nineteenth century makes the music more approachable. As Satie stated, it is everyday music.
21
Chapter 3: Sing and Dance with Serenade in A and Divertissiment
Whereas works titled “sonata” indicate a relationship to the history of absolute music, the
titles of Stravinsky’s Serenade in A (1925) and Prokofiev’s Divertissiment (1925/1938) suggest
historical use of dance forms, tonal centers, and genres such as nocturnes and rondos. Both
compositions are in the form of a suite: Serenade consists of Hymn, Romanza, Rondoletto, and
Cadenza Finale; Divertissiment consists of Divertissiment, Nocturne, Danse, and Epilogue.
Stravinsky’s neo-classicism in Serenade can be interpreted through tonal axes on
different hierarchical levels, voice leading, and treatment of texture. The title Serenade in A, like
Symphony in C, cannot be interpreted in a conventional tonal fashion. Pitch-class “A” indicates
the gravitational pitch center of the piece; it is treated as an axis surrounded by other temporary
pitch centers. In fact, the tonal organization of the piece can be seen as a series of
destabilizations of A: a refuting of the expectation of “in A” prompted by the title. The sense of
being “in A” is established by pitches centering on A as an axis on the local level, the global
(formal) level, and at cadential points.
On the local level, a characteristic harmonic attribute is the ambiguity resulting from
what Joseph Straus has called a “tonal axis.” 1 Such an axis consists of overlapping major and minor triads (in this case, F-A-C and A-C-E). Among other attributes, pieces with a tonal axis embody a sense of harmonic duality, as sometimes one triad exerts dominance and sometimes the other does. Example 3.1 shows the opening chord of the Serenade. Although all of the notes of the F-major triad are present, the A is tripled and occupies the highest and lowest positions.
Thus, through chord voicing, the root F is destabilized, and A is more strongly suggested. At
1 Joseph Straus, “Stravinsky’s Tonal Axis,” Journal of Music Theory, Vol. 26, No. 2 (Autumn, 1982): 261- 90. 22 other times, the full A-minor triad is prominent. At the end of the opening section, the F-major and A-minor chords occur simultaneously, creating a “seventh chord” about an overlapped third:
F-A-C-E. Thus, the tonal axis is achieved by the sharing of two notes between two independent triads.
Example 1. The opening chord of Serenade, demonstrating the F/A tonal ambiguity:
On a formal level, A is often polarized by pitches that are related to it by fifth, third, and second (or combinations thereof). As shown in Example 3.2, the opening of the “Hymn” leans toward pitch A, but is also pulled toward F by the use of B-flat. This is later mirrored by the hint of C at m. 22, where the C6/4 is introduced. Therefore, a pair of symmetrical thirds centering on
A exemplify the composer’s use of tonal axis. Similarly, example 3.3 demonstrates another case, where an A-B, A-G relationship is presented in the “Rondoletto”: from mm. 31-43 the melodic sequence in the right hand clearly shows the A-axis.
Example 3.2 Pitch center A, polarized by symmetrical intervals:
23
Example 3.3 Tonal axis (A-B/A-G) shown through melodic sequences in the “Rondoletto,” (mm. 31-43):
a. q = 92 b.
c.
The cadence is perhaps the most important element in establishing a key area in tonal practice. Thus we should not be surprised to find the tonal axis demonstrated here as well. Of the four cadences at the ends of the four movements, only the last one ends with a sounding A. The first three movements all end with the A pressed down silently: by striking other notes, its string vibrates. Example 3.4 shows the reduction of three cadences. The first-ending cadence is dominated by the F triad. Though ending on pitch A, the overlapping of F and A triads creates a tonal ambiguity. The second cadence leaves the A ringing over the G-major triad, which fuses the G triad and overtones from the ringing A. The third one is rather peculiar. The A is approached quite conventionally by its upper (B) and lower (G/G-sharp) neighbors. However, it is never played out; it is as if the three notes just disappear, leaving the A ringing quietly in the distance.
Example 3.4 Reduction of the endings from the first three movements of the Serenade: a. Hymn b. Romanza c. Rondoletto
* Diamond shaped note heads are to be pressed down without striking the strings. 24
The interior cadences are ambiguous as well. Example 3.5 shows a “half cadence” at mm.
28-29 in the first movement, landing on E, first with Em6/3 and then with CM6/4. These kinds of
interior (half) cadences, along with the final cadences at the end of each movement, reflect the same axes demonstrated throughout the movements, which further destabilize pitch center A.
Example 3.5 Ambiguous “half” cadence on E in the “Hymn,” (mm. 28-29):
The treatment of voice leading in the Serenade embodies both conventional ideas and modernistic trends; the use of traditional neighbor tones along with the rather modernistic use of a tetrachord gives the audience a sense of “something old, something new.” The piece works extensively with one of the most traditional musical elements, neighbor tones. They are used on both larger and more local levels. Both correspond with each other. In “Hymn,” the neighbor note B-flat not only functions as an embellishment of A, but also acts as the “steering wheel,” driving toward F major. But this is juxtaposed against the double neighbor notes B and B-flat for the left hand. Thus the use of both notes balances the tension between A and F. This use of double neighbor notes is more evident in the second movement. The A-G-sharp relationship at the opening of the movement is then transformed to A-G at the end of the introduction, where the
G becomes the pitch center for the next section in contrast with the A in the previous section. So the A-G relationship is transformed onto a much larger formal scale. A more modernistic approach in voice leading is the use of the descending tetrachord, A-G-F-E, which ties the movements together as a unifying element. Starting off with the “tonic” and ending on the
“dominant” note, this tetrachord is a tonal cliché used in a modernistic way. Example 3.6 shows 25 the uses of the tetrachord in different movements. The A-minor sounding tetrachord is transformed into A major in the second movement (A-G-sharp-F-sharp-E). In the third movement the descent begins as if transposed on E (as opposed to ending on E): E-D-C-B.
However, it continues downward to A, so the goal is reversed: the “dominant” note now proceeds back to the “tonic.”
Example 3.6 The uses of the descending tetrachord in each movement:
Movement I.
Movement II
Movement III
Stravinsky’s music from his earlier Russian-period is known for abrupt changes in texture, overlapping textures, and combinations of different textures. Such juxtaposition, stratification, and superimposition are seen in the first movement. The changes in textures delineate the movement into three sections. In spite of the obvious changes in texture, the rhythmic connections between sections are also evident. In section II, the quarter note followed
by an eighth note can be associated with the opening melody. The dotted-quarter notes followed by three eighth notes at the beginning of section III come from the left hand music in section II, and the sixteenth-note accompaniment comes from the beginning of the piece. Thus section III is a synthesis of sections I and II. 26
A more conventional aspect of texture in the Serenade is the use of parallel thirds and
sixths. The functions of this parallelism are to prolong a harmony through register transfer; and
to circle around a structurally prominent interval. For example, in the first movement, the
parallel sixths m. 30ff transfer the left hand from a rather high register down to a lower register
at m. 36. Similarly, the parallel thirds at mm. 18 and 46 clearly fill the registral gap between the
As. In contrast, the thirds in mm. 13, 20, and 48-49 are neighbor dyads embellishing the main dyads. The last movement is saturated with parallels. It contains all the conventional functions of
parallelism; moreover, it is reminiscent of Debussy’s planing, outlining particular pitch
collections.
In summary, the four movements of the Serenade exhibit some of the expected
characteristics of Stravinsky’s neo-classicism. “In A” does not really refer to the key of A, but
instead it means that A is a tonal axis on both broader and local levels as well as at cadential
points. The piece is a process of destabilizing A by superimposition and juxtaposition of tonal
ambiguities. While the voice leading includes some common tonal elements, such as neighbor
motion, modernistic approaches, such as the use of the tetrachord, unify the movements. The
Stravinskian juxtaposition and superimposition of texture are prominent in determining formal
sections. The parallelism of thirds and sixths is used in traditional ways, such as register transfer,
as well as in modernistic way, recalling Debussy. To put it another way, Stravinsky took
elements that are common in tonal music and reorganized them, as if taking a given alphabet and
using its characters to fashion new words in a language of his own: his unique brand of neo-
classicism.
Divertissiment, Nocturne, Danse, and Epilogue make up Prokofiev’s piano suite
Divertissiment. Originally written as an orchestra work, the composer arranged it for piano solo. 27
Written around the same time as Stravinsky’s Serenade, Divertissiment, as a suite, has some
characteristics similar to Serenade. It also uses traditional genres, such as Nocturne and Danse,
traditional forms, such as rondo, and tonal/pitch centers as well as the overall style of a neo-
classical suite.
What makes Prokofiev’s work unique is how each element is executed. Whether it is
done traditionally or modernistically, the abruptness of every change is the very essence of his neo-classicism. Sudden changes in harmony, form, and/or dynamics are shocking yet there is no time for one to absorb the shock before the work’s “pre-shock” normality resumes.
The harmonic surprises result from sudden shifts in tonal/pitch centers as well as from the resuming the original one. Often these changes happen within a very short amount of time. Thus, they create a sense of disorientation and confusion; yet somehow, some way, the music returns to where it started. For example, in the opening of the Nocturne, though the overall form of the movement is a modified rondo, shown in example 3.7, the A section comprises two phrases that can be labeled as a parallel period.
Example 3.7 ┌─────────Modified Rondo──────────┐ A B C A’ B’ A’’ a a’ a a’ a a’ mm. 1 9 18 26 36 46 56 65 73 Macro tonal centers: d C d d a b A d d C d
The first phrase has eight measures with two symmetrical semi-phrases. The first semi-phrase
(first four measures) has a tonal center of D, or somewhat D minor-ish. However, the second semi-phrase is saturated with accidentals and shifts from D to first B-flat, then E-flat, then C- sharp, then A, and finally back to D, all within three and a half measures. All of the shifts occur 28
on the beat and, in addition to the already ambiguous tonal center, all “tonic” chords appear in
their first inversion, a relatively unstable position for any diatonic harmony. The music then
perpetually moves on with the return of the opening material in C, thus the ambiguity is suddenly
lifted. Though only lasting for two measures, the pitch center C seems so much stronger and
more prominent after the ambiguity in the previous three measures. It is the rescue rope that the
listeners grab on to after being disoriented and lost in a stream of tonalities. Example 3.8 shows
the reduction of tonal shifts from mm. 5-9.
Example 3.8 Harmonic Reduction of mm. 5-9 of the Nocturne:
Similar examples can be found at the very beginning of the Divertissement. Within the first ten
measures, the music sails through seven tonal centers, none of which lasts more than two
measures, and very few of the “tonic” triads are in root position.
The abrupt shifts in form also contribute to Prokofiev’s unique style. The formal structure of “Danse” best illustrates this point. The composer first presented a rather lengthy A section and what appears to be a B section. However, in the B section, we begin to see fragments of the A section inserted into the bigger picture. The recurrences of these fragments are unprepared and unresolved. They often last for a few measures then the music returns to the continuation of the
B section. Just as the listeners get used to the idea of this interruption, the music sneaks back to the middle of A section, and before we notice it, the music has made a complete return to the A section. The reoccurrence of the previous material is no longer a fragmented insertion, but 29
instead a recapitulation. Example 3.9 shows the layout of the movement. The motives labeled in
red are from the A section and those in blue are from the B section. The diagram clearly shows
the interruption of the current section and the insertion of the fragments.
Example 3.9
A B A
Motives: a a b b c b c a a a b a b a a Æ a+b c a c a mm. 1 8 13 21 25 30 41 47 54 62 68 74 76 82 84 98 108 115 117 126 (crux)
Thus, Prokofiev successfully infused the traditional A-B-A form with numerous motivic surprises. Along with the sudden shifts in tonal centers, the music keeps the listeners’ attention and makes them constantly wonder, “What’s next”? Needless to say, the dynamic contrasts only add another dimension to Prokofiev’s changes. They are like the sound effects on a roller coaster, a perfect finishing touch to his unique style.
When dealing with Prokofiev’s music, one cannot ignore one of most prominent characteristics of his style of composition: the constant presence of rhythmic pulses. In all four movements, regardless of their character, tempo, or nature, the rhythmic pulses provide a common element that ties them together. The eighth-note staccato and ostinato in
Divertissement, the running sixteenth-notes in Nocturne, the march-like ostinato in Danse, and
the constant eighth-note accompaniment in Epilogue are reminiscent of so many other works by
Prokofiev, who is undeniably one of the most impressive ballet composers of all time.
In summary, Stravinsky’s Serenade and Prokofiev’s Divertissement owe much of their
brilliance to traditional dance genres. Both being prominent ballet composers, they brought their
fascination for dances into these purely instrumental works. Ambiguity and surprises seem to be 30 the key to both composers’ styles. Whether it is harmonic duality, sudden tonal shifts, the superimposition of textures, or the juxtaposition of different motives, what matters is their impeccable ability to re-use the past, respecting traditions while being truthful to their own compositional styles. It is a balance every composer seeks to achieve. These composers—two of the most influential Russian composers of the twentieth century—found their voices in the midst of German Expressionism and French anti-Romanticism. In Paris, the city that nurtured generations of artists, they found their voices.
31
Act II – And There Were the Germans
Chapter 4: Dance with the Past? Schönberg’s Walzer
While the atmosphere of neoclassicism was present in France, the group of composers
known as the Second Viennese School responded to compositional changes in their own unique
ways. The group, consisting of Arnold Schönberg (1874-1951), Anton Webern (1883-1945), and
Alban Berg (1885-1935) is known for its connection with Expressionism, which originated in the visual arts and literature. Musical works such as Erwartung (1909), Pierrot Lunaire (1912),
Wozzeck (1917-22), and Lulu (1929-35) form a strong contrast with French Impressionistic style.
In addition, the desire for new ways of organizing pitches outside traditional tonality set the
Austro-Germans even further away from the French composers. However, no new innovation is immune from traditions and history. Despite using free atonal and 12-tone compositional
devices, many pieces by these composers inherited—in a variety of ways—some of the most
fundamental compositional traditions of prior periods, such as form, genre, and structure. In this
chapter, I will focus on Schönberg’s Walzer, Op. 23, No. 5; and in the next Chapter his Suite,
Op. 25.
Unlike the other pieces in Op. 23 by Arnold Schoenberg, No. 5 is a character piece titled
“Walzer.” It resembles the traditional waltz in its triple meter, lightness, and waltz-like rhythmic
patterns. It employs 12-tone technique and works extensively with its subset structures. Only one
form of the row, P1, is used throughout the piece, excepting the fact that R1P appears twice in the coda section. Because of this redundancy, each repetition of the row is treated individually in its texture, character, and phrasing for the purpose of variations. Despite being a 12-tone piece, it reconnects with nineteenth-century compositional devices in many different ways, such as the 32
use of antecedent and consequent phrases, motivic variations, persistent appearances of triadic
sonorities, and fifth relations that penetrate a centricity of F/C. The audibility of these musical
features tightens the structure of the piece and overcomes what some might interpret as the
composition’s abstract mathematical aspects. It constantly reminds us: it is simply a waltz.
The piece has an arch form of ABCB’A’ and coda (Example 4.1). The last section
directly corresponds to section I, functioning as a recapitulation.1 Section II carries over some
rhythmic variations from section I. Made entirely of a chain of sequential passages and is
recalled in section IV. Section III is the most different of all. It has a quasi-contrapuntal passage
punctuated by the first note of the row, C-sharp, and is followed by a re-transition back to the
recapitulation. The coda recalls the opening of the piece and ends with an ambiguous V-I gesture
in D. The analysis below is done first by section; afterward I will examine the relationships
between sections.
Example 4.1 ______Arch form______│ ┌------┐ │ A (section I) B (II) C (III) B’ (IV) A’ (V) Coda mm.1-28 29-43 44-67 68-73 74-99 100-13
The opening of “Walzer” not only presents the row in the right hand, but also articulates it in three segments. It sets the tone for the phrase structure of the piece. The row is made of two unordered pitch class sets. The prime form of the hexachord is 6-9 (012357). This hexachord is self-complementary, meaning that the remaining six pitches belong to the same set family.2
1 Kathryn Bailey, “Composing with Tones” A Musical Analysis of Schoenberg’s Op. 23 Pieces for Piano (London: Royal Musical Association, 2001), 104. 2 Josephs N. Straus, Introduction to Post-Tonal Theory (New Jersey: Upper Saddle River, 2000), 39-44. 33
Consequently, the second hexachord has the same prime form and is T11I [6 7 8 9 E 1] Æ [T 0 2
3 4 5] (Example 4.2).
Example 4.2 ┌------T11I ------┐ [678E1] [T02345] ┌------┐ ┌------┐ C# A B G G# F# A# D E D# C F 1 9 E 7 8 6 T 2 4 3 0 5 └------┘ └------┘ └------┘ (0246) (0248) (0125)
This relationship is no coincidence. Example 4.3 shows the number of common tones [6 7 8 E 1]
3 under inversions. This index vector tells us that, except T11I, inversions at all other levels have one or more common tones. Thus, in order to complete the 12-tone row, T11I is the only qualified
form of the set.
Example 4.3 a. b.
6 7 8 e 1 n = 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 T E 6 │ 0 1 2 5 7 Index Vector: 3 2 4 2 1 2 2 4 2 2 1 0 7 │ 1 2 3 6 8 8 │ 2 3 4 7 9 e │ 5 6 7 t 0 1 │ 7 8 9 0 2
The row also creates three tetrachords (0246), (0248), and (0125) (Example 4.2). The first two
are whole-tone collections. According to their index vectors, common tones are only preserved
when n is an even number. Therefore, their subsets, such as (024) and (048), also share no common tones under any odd numbered inversions. In my opinion, Schoenberg deliberately
3 Ibid., 74-76. 34
avoided preserving common tones for these p-space subsets, either the whole collection, or the
augmented triadic collection.4 Different forms of the sets are related by odd number level of transposition or inversions, shown in Example 4.4.
Example 4.4 mm.1-4
Musically, the phrasing is not restricted or compromised by fixation of the row. Mm. 1-4
and 5-7 form a pair of antecedent and consequent phrases. They both start with the similar
contour segment (Example 4.5).5 CSEGs (13420) and (03421) are set to the same rhythmic pattern and therefore create an explicit connection between two phrases. In addition to contour
segments, resemblance between phrases is also achieved by using the same interval classes. For
example, m. 14 starts with F-sharp-D-E <+8, +2>, just like the opening (C-sharp-A-B). They are
related by T7, again, an odd-number transposition. Instead of falling a major seventh (in m. 2), E-
flat-F in m. 15 leaps a minor seventh down. The CSEG (201) in m. 2 is then answered by the left hand in m. 15 and therefore creates the second variation of the original melody. Mm. 19-21 demonstrate another possibility of transforming the melody. It is the inversion of the melodic contour. Instead of ascending it starts with a descending line and vice-versa. Mm. 22-28, with a typical waltz rhythmic gesture , leads the music into the next section with a
quasi-sequential passage.
4 Robert Morris, Composition with Pitch-Classes: A Theory of Compositional Design (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987). 5 Straus, Introduction to Post-Tonal Theory, 87-89. 35
Example 4.5
a. mm. 1-4 b. mm. 5-7
antecedent consequent
c. mm. 14-15 d. mm. 19-21 antecedent consequent
The B section is the most sequential of all. Not only does it contain a similar period, it is
also full of fourth/fifth and triadic relations. Example 4 shows the relationship between the
antecedent and consequent phrases. The C-sharp-F-sharp in the right hand is then echoed a half
step down by C-F. This “parallel” fifth suggests a significant contrast with the previous section,
which emphasizes less patterned large leaps. Yet, the opening <+8> is immediately recalled in
the left hand at m. 35. A more obvious resemblance follows in m. 37, which has the exact
ordered pitches of mm. 1-2 (Example 4.6). However, fourth/fifth dyad persuades. M. 38, in the
left-hand music, consists of a chain of this typical common practice musical gestures: C-G, A-
flat-E-flat, and F-C. (Example 4.7)
36
Example 4.6
mm. 29-34
antecedent consequent
Example 4.7 mm. 35-38 mm.1-2
According to Kathryn Bailey, section C functions as the “Trio demanded by the Waltz and the development needed for the sonata form.”6 It has two sub-sections, a rather static one in four-voice counterpoint and a more agitated section that preserves more elements from the A section.
Mm. 44-56 contains four notes per measure in different voices, and thus cycles through the row every four measures. The first note of the row C-sharp (D-flat) is heard on the downbeat of m. 44, 48, 52, and 56. Each time it is accompanied by a C/F in the counter voices. In contrast with the rest of piece, all the voices in this section move in mostly stepwise motion. As mentioned earlier regarding the use of p-space, the chromatic collection (012) is used throughout
6 Bailey, Composing with Tones, 114. 37 this passage. This idea of set variation is derived from the bass voice in the opening measure of the piece, D-E-E-flat, which also has a prime form of (012). Example 4.8 shows the relationship between the each form of the set in the top voice at m.44. Notice that the transposition levels are odd numbers and there are no common tones between each form of the set. This set-based passage is quickly interrupted by a daring descending line in the top voice, which outlines a major-minor seventh chord in m. 58 (A-F-sharp-D-sharp-B).
Example 4.8 a. mm. 44-57 b.
0 E T 1 2 3 7 9 (8) [TE0] T3[TE0]=[123] T9[TE0]=[789] (alto)
The second sub-section of C starts at m. 61. It resumes the large leaps and the waltz rhythms used earlier in the piece.
Mm. 68-73 is the B’ section. Two main elements it preserves from the B section are the sequences and the fourth/fifth. The repetition of the row occurs very two measures starting with
C-sharp. Instead of C-sharp-F-sharp (m. 29), the composer chose C-sharp-G-sharp. It is still echoed by C-F in the left hand this time. Mm.70-73 demonstrate a rhythmic sequential passage leading back to the recapitulation. What makes this retransition so interesting is that for the first time after the opening the row is stated in a single melodic line preparing for the return of A. Not only are the pitches clearly presented, so are the melodic contours of the motives. Example 4.9 shows the variations of motives of the opening theme in mm. 70-72.
38
Example 4.9 m.1 m. 70
m. 4 m. 71-2
In m. 74 the Molto pesante (fortissimo) marks the return of A, i.e., the recapitulation. The resemblances between the A and A’ sections are so striking that they can almost be mapped onto one another.
By comparing and contrasting mm. 1 and 74, we can see that in addition to the rhythmic similarities m. 74 also preserves the <+8> between C-sharp and A, and the idea of <-4> between
B and G. The only difference is that they are lined up vertically as chords. The left hand also remains a CSEG of (102) in m. 74, as it is in m. 1. The set (048) is present in the left-hand music as [26T], as marked in the example. The two A sections also correspond with each other in terms of phrasing. The first consequent phrase starts at m. 5 with an E pedal, followed by an augmented triad for the right hand. The consequent phrase starting as m. 77 is almost identical to the first one, except it is in a much lower register and the augmented triad is in root position.
Mm. 6 and 79 are very much like a repeat with a “8va…….” written below. Another major 39
corresponding point is at m. 85, which matches m. 14 in the A section. Both measures refer back
to the opening idea <+8, +2>.7
Starting in mm. 89/18, the relationship between the two sections becomes what may be
described as “correspondence in contrary motion.” The following example shows that, although
the same pitch classes are presented in the same order, the collections in A’ are in contrary
motion from the first section. As a result, the ordered pitch-class intervals from two sections are
complementary. A similar case is toward the end of the section, at m. 96, which matches m. 26.
Clearly, the first A section pushes to a climatic point by moving <+8, +8> in the bass line,
whereas the A’ section achieves the climax by moving in the opposite direction. Instead of
emphasizing on the opening idea of piece <+8>, it outlines two triad ideas, C-G-E in the alto and
E-C-sharp-G-sharp in the bass. Again, we find a typical twentieth century technique wedded
with common-practice traditions.
Example 4.10
Anacrusis to m. 18: +8, +2, -4, +1, -2, +4
Anacrusis to m. 89: -4, -10, +8, -11, +10, -8
The Coda section starting at m. 100 is the only exact repetition of the opening measure.
Like many typical codas, the main idea of the piece is presented again as the final conclusion.
The C-sharp -A idea is repeated very two measures, always with the C-sharp as the bass note,
(m. 100, 103, 104, and 106). The piece concludes with a three-measure tremolo of C-sharp and A in the right hand. The chord is then transferred to the lower register for the right hand at m. 112
and finally, in the bass line, forming an A9 chord resolving to a D6 without the fifth. This quasi
7 Ibid. 40
V-I motion is another fifth relation that has been evident throughout the piece. The pitch-interval
8, for the last time, is presented in the final chord.
Through the analysis of each section and a comparison of corresponding sections, we can
see that the invariant motive and variations happen at two levels. On the smaller level, the
opening motive <+8, +2> and the use of p-space sets are preserved either explicitly, such as in
many antecedent and consequent phrases, or implicitly, such as in the foreshadowing of certain
sets between voices. On a broader level, the motive and phrase structures correspond between
sections such as A and A’, and B and B’. By switching hands and using complementary pitch
class intervals, variations are also created.
As mentioned earlier, some traditional common-practice elements are wedded with 12-
tone techniques. In addition to triadic sonorities, the most prominent and effective use of this
method is the C-F at the end of the tone row. It not only concludes the row, but also functions as
a cadence. In fact, this fifth relationship plays a significant role in punctuating the major sections.
The following example shows how C-F cadences occur in each section, either melodically or
harmonically.
Example 4.11
Ending of A: Ending of B:
Ending of C: Ending of B’:
41
Example 4.11 (continued)
Ending of A’:
In conclusion, Op. 23, No. 5 is a 12-tone piece based on a single form of a row. However, the overall formal structure and musical ideas are based on motives and their variations. The pitch class intervals <+8, +2> with the waltz-like rhythms marks the beginning of most phrases and sections. These invariants, including the persistent use of particular sets, hold the piece together. Yet, exact repetition only happens once at the beginning of the coda. Every recurrence of musical elements is altered in some ways, which creates the variations. Some traditional musical aspects are combined with this twentieth century piece, such as augmented triads, and most importantly, the fifth relationship. Because of the C-F dyad punctuating most sections, one might say that C/F plays a centric role in the piece.
42
Chapter 5: Schönberg’s Suite, Op. 25 and Hindemith’s 1922 Klaviersuite
Although seemingly different in many musical respects, Schönberg’s Suite, Op. 25 and
Hindemith’s 1922 Suite für Klavier parallel one another by revisiting the genre of the suite. The
history of suites can be traced back to the Renaissance. They consist of instrumental dances that are
paired in contrasting meters, tempi, and characters. The height of the suite’s popularity occurred
during the Baroque era, when instrumental music was elevated to stand with vocal genres, which
had dominated the musical circles during the Medieval and Renaissance. A few hundred years later,
in the hands of Schönberg and Hindemith, the suite became a way of being connected to the past,
while every musical element demonstrates the composers’ progressiveness.
In 1923, Schönberg finished Suite for Piano, Op. 25, after composing the Prelude and part of
the Intermezzo two years earlier.1 Considering himself as the successor of a line of great Germanic composers, Schönberg had no desire to separate himself from nineteenth century Romanticism, but instead put great effort into continuing the Beethoven-Brahms-Mahler legacy and claiming to reassure the dominant position of German music for the next 100 years. Here Schönberg chose a
Neo-Baroque approach in the setting of the suite. Consisting of six movements—Präludium,
Gavotte, Menuett and Trio, Musette, and Gigue—his suite is based on a single tone row and was the first major 12-tone work of Schönberg’s to experiment with different possibilities of mutating the tone row. Let us examine the tone row itself, for it is responsible for creating some the most striking qualities of the piece.
As shown in Example 5.1, the tone row consists of three tetrachords. The first two tetrachords end with the tritone. Thus the inversion of the tritone maps onto itself and creates two
1Ethan Haimo, “The Evolution of the Twelve-tone Method,” The Arnold Schoenberg Companion (Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1998), 117. 43
common tones. Moreover, when the tetrachord is transposed by a tritone (T6), it also creates two
common tones. Therefore, the extensive use of the tritone, one of the most dissonant intervals,
brings out the modernistic aspect of the piece. However, Schönberg’s attempt to stay with the past
cannot be more overt than in his encoding the name “BACH” in the last tetrachord. H-C-A-B, the
retrograde of BACH, is not only spelled as the last part of the tone row but is also emphasized in the dance. As shown in Example 5.2, the last four notes of the row are accented and given a dynamic mark sf and f, after a quiet opening p and pp in the other voices.
Example 5.1
Original and Inversion Original and Transposition
Example 5.2 mm. 1-3 from Präludium
44
In addition to spelling the name of the great German composer, Schönberg’s traditional treatment of form and motivic connections should no doubt be credited to eighteenth and nineteenth century compositional styles. Best shown in the Menuett, the use of rounded binary form, the typical triple meter of the minuet, antecedent and consequent phrases, along with the tightly organized motive connections represent the very essence of Schönberg’s neo-classicism.
Rounded binary form is one of the most common forms used in dances, especially in
Minuets. The form is somewhat modified, hence the lack of traditional tonality. However, the delineation of the sections is clearly marked by the return of the motivic materials as well as the row forms. Example 5.3a shows a breakdown of the form; example 5.3b shows the motivic connection between the sections. The rhythmic motive circled in each excerpt is varied and transformed throughout the movement. In addition, the large leap by the left hand (also circled in the first excerpt) becomes another prominent motivic gesture that is permuted throughout the movement.
Example 5.3a
A :║ B(A’) A’ Coda mm.1-11 12-16 17-26 27-33
P4 (opening motive with rhythmic retrograde) P4 (re-voicing)
Example 5.3b
45
Example 5.3b (continued)
The Menuett retains the tradition triple meter and, moreover, some of the most typical rhythmic patterns of the minuet. For example, the pattern can found in mm. 5, 6, 9,
10 (modified), and 21. The emphasis on the second beat becomes a significant rhythmic characteristic. Although it is a serial work, this metric/rhythmic connection gives the listener a sense of familiarity and, to some listeners perhaps, a greater sense of accessibility.
This sense of familiarity is further reinforced by antecedent and consequent phrase structure.
Often paired in symmetrical fashion, the rhythmic and melodic gestures successfully evoke the traditional phrase structure, despite the absence of traditional harmonic progression and cadential points. For example, the A section of the movement is made up of four two-measure phrases and a three-measure phrase. They can be paired as 2+2, 2+2, 3. The first two pairs, due to their melodic gesture and tempo indication (rit… tempo), can be seen as an antecedent and consequent period.
Thus, without the guidance of traditional tonality, Schönberg was able to recall the nature of the Baroque dances by using traditional forms, rhythmic patterns, motivic connections, and phrase structure. The suite remains faithful to the very nature of a Baroque suite to the extent that even the order of the dances follows historical tradition.
Schönberg retained the names and characters of Baroque dances, but Hindemith took dances from popular culture and transformed them into a 1920s “Germanic” suite. Suite 1922 46
consists of Marsch, Shimmy, Nachtstück, Boston, and Ragtime. Whereas Marsch and Nachtstück
trace their origins to much more traditional genres, Shimmy, Boston, and Ragtime come from
American vernacular sources.
Shimmy is a dance of American origins that enjoyed its popularity in the 1910s and early
1920s. First documented in Spencer William’s song “Shim-me-Sha-Wabble,” Shimmy was associated with the African-American nightclub culture. It soon made its way onto Broadway and into vaudeville acts. Tin Pan Alley created songs, such as A.J. Prion’s “I Wish I Could Shimmy
Like My Sister Kate” and Irving Berlin’s “You Cannot Make Your Shimmy Shake on Tea.” In the late 1910s the dance was associated with the new jazz music.2 However, as Rebecca Bryant stated,
“although widely performed as an exhibition dance by female performers, the shimmy also appeared as a social dance in the USA and Europe during the 1920s as a variation of the foxtrot or one-step,” which explains Hindemith’s familiarity with the dance.3
Boston, as a slow ballroom dance, is often related to the waltz. It originated in the United
States during the 1870s and enjoyed popularity in the early 1900s in England; it regained its
position after World War I, especially in “Germany as the ‘English Waltz’ with sentimental
melodies, and as a ‘hesitation’ waltz with frequent suppressions of beats or whole bars in the
accompaniment.”4 “Unlike the waltz (with three steps to a bar) or the valse à deux temps (with two steps to a bar in a minim-crotchet rhythm), the Boston’s steps were of equal duration, three in two
bars, accompanied by a hemiola ostinato; the tempo was about 44 bars per minutes.”5 During the
European revival of the Boston in the 1920s, it was transformed in compositions such as
2 Rebecca Bryant, New Grove Dictionary, 2nd edition Online. s.v. “Shimmy” available at http://www.grovemusic.com, accessed on 15 March, 2006. 3 Ibid. 4 New Grove Dictionary, 2nd edition Online. s.v. “Boston” available at http://www.grovemusic.com, accessed on 15 March, 2006. 5 Ibid. 47
Hindemith’s suite, Ervin Schulhoff’s Esquisses de jazz (1927) and Conrad Beck’s Zwei Tansztücke
(1929).6
Ragtime, a much more popular genre in American culture disseminated by composer Scott
Joplin and others, became a fascinating form of exoticism among European composers. The reasons
for this fascination are explained by Gunther Schuller in his essay “Jazz and Musical Exoticism.”7
One, syncopation in classical music, apart from being relatively rare […] was of a different sort from that found in Negro Ragtime; and two, the ragging in the melodies and tunes of Ragtime in irregular syncopation was juxtaposed with the inexorably regular underlying oom-pah accompaniments. It was this contrast between the regular and the irregular—many saw it as more than a contrast, indeed a contradiction, a kind of musical oxymoron—displayed not successively but simultaneously, that captivated people.8
Thus, it is not a surprise to see Ragtime in works by Hindemith, Stravinsky, and other European
composers.
These dances, in the hands of Hindemith, are infused with the quality of jazz or blues, yet
none of them ever became real jazz. Instead, the jazz quality is often evoked through the use of
blue notes, such as the flat third and seventh, and the syncopation of rhythmic patterns. However,
these elements are superimposed and juxtaposed with Hindemith’s dissonances, motivic
development, and the dense and heavy textures that bear the trademark of the great German
tradition. Below I will focus on the last movement of the suite, Ragtime. For many composers in
Europe at the time, an acquaintance with the genre was due to the circulation of manuscripts,
scores, or piano rolls. The “swinging” quality that is often put in force by the performers was not
always conveyed to the European musicians. Moreover, this sort of vernacular Rubato seems to
6 Ibid. 7 E. Douglas Bomberger, “European Perceptions of Ragtime Hindemith and Stravinsky,” Jazz and The Germans (Hillsdale, NY: Pendragon Press, 2002), 83-84. 8 Ibid. 48 contradict the rhythmic fascination of the European composers, as Hindemith deliberately requested in his 1922 Suite für Klavier.
Nimm keine Rücksichten auf das, was Du in der Kalvierstunde gelernt hast / Überlege nicht lange, ob Du Dis mit dem vierten oder sechsten Finger anschlagen muβt / Spiele diese Stück sehr wild, aber stets sehr stramm im Rhythmus, wie eine Maschine / Betrachte hier das Klavier als eine interessante Art Schlagzeug und handele dementsprechend. 9
[Pay no attention to what you have learned in piano lessons. Don’t think long about whether to play D sharp with the fourth or the sixth finger. Play this piece very wildly, but always very strictly in rhythm, like a machine. Think of the keyboard as an interesting form of percussion instrument and act accordingly.] 10
This “strict” approach to the genre, along with the treatment of form, motivic development, harmonic language, and dynamics resulted in Hindemith’s neoclassic Germanic Ragtime.
The form of the Ragtime is that of a traditional one as shown in Example 5.1. Like most traditional ragtime, Hindemith’s movements remind us of the traditional rondo form, and furthermore, Refrains (A sections) are never altered in any aspect, such as texture, ornamentation, and melodic diminution, as they normally are in a conventional rondo. The return of the A sections, thus, are often mere repetitions of the previous material, which in itself is a protest against traditions.
The avoidance of being “compositionally sophisticated” becomes a modernistic approach and highlights the “Neo” part of Neoclassicism.
Example. 5.1
Introduction A break A break A break Retran. mm. 1-3 4-12 13-18 19-29 30-42 43-50 51-79 80-83
// Introduction A Coda 84-87 88-92 93-120
9 Paul Hindemith, 1922: Suite für Klavier, Op. 26 (Mainz, Schott, 1922), 19. 10 E. Douglas Bomberger, “European Perceptions of Ragtime Hindemith and Stravinsky,” 90. 49
This modernistic approach to the refrain, however, is accompanied by an extremely tightened motivic organization. Within the first measure of the A section, three motives are presented, which are permuted, transformed, and combined to make up the entire movement. Example 5.2 illustrates the three motives derived from the first measure of the A section.
Motive 1 is characterized by the melodic interval of minor seconds and is first given in the introduction with the descending quartal harmonies. Following the traditional stylistic conventions of ragtime, the sixteenth note anacrusis to the next measure becomes Motive 2, which carries the
“short-short-long” rhythmic feature. Motive 3 features a descending leap of an augmented fifth <-8>, as well as a “short-long” rhythmic figure that often lands on a weak beat and is carried over to the next measure. All three motives are presented and reinforced through melodic sequences, such as in mm. 4-7 and 9-12. The “plays” of the motives are best shown in the “break” sections. For example, in the second break, mm. 30ff, Motive 2 is superimposed with motives 1 and 3 for the right hand and creates a rhythmic sequence that leads back to the A section at m. 42. Moreover, the beginning of the first break section appears to be an infusion of Motives 2 and 3. Whereas the rhythmic feature of
Motive 2 is present, the pitches for the right hand are those from Motive 3, shown in Example 5.3.
Example 5.2
Motive 1 (as it first appeared in the intro): Motive 2: Motive 3:
50
Example 5.2 (continued)
Three motives from m. 4 of the Ragtime:
Example 5.3. Right hand of measure 13:
This highly tightened motivic organization is accompanied by another trademark of the great
Germanic tradition: the dense texture, and a Hindemith signature: the use of dissonances, especially, poly-harmonies. Two intervals are used extensively throughout the movement: seconds and sevenths. These two intervals, belonging to the same interval class, are considered dissonances in traditional tonal harmony. As shown in Example 5.2, the movement opens with a descending melody that is saturated with minor seconds. Vertically, the chordal sonority is based on the interval of a seventh. The addition of D-sharp (fourth above the bass), not only creates a quartal harmony, but
also highlights the relationship between the inner voice and the outer. Thus, a melodic illusion is created between A-D-sharp-A. The only other dissonance besides the second and seventh is presented: the tritone. 51
Hindemith’s brilliance is due to not just superimposing and juxtaposing these dissonances, but to creating a diatonic illusion by employing traditional scales that often serve as linking passages between sections and phrases. For example, m. 8, which bridges two four-bar phrases, includes an ascending C-major scale (all white keys) and a descending pentatonic scale (all black keys). This modernistic use of diatonic and exotic scales highlights Hindemith neoclassicism.
In conclusion, Hindemith’s approach to the ragtime genre was to borrow elements of the genre, and reset them in his personal harmonic language as well as with other stylistic preferences.
Thus, the finished product is something unconventional and refreshing. The dynamics throughout the movement range from f to fff with one exception of p before the final return of the refrain. The bombastic character and strict tempo indication are a reaction against nineteenth century
Romanticism. In this aspect, Hindemith stood along a similar line with Stravinsky and other modernistic composers from the 1920s. In contrast, what seems to be overtly aggressive in
Schönberg’s music has to yield to his self-identification as a successor to the great nineteenth century traditions.
52
Act III – Contratanti Finale
Chapter 6: Style without Boarders
Two Russian composers influenced by the currents in Paris, which was the capital of arts
in the early part of the twentieth century and two Germanic composers trying to live up to their
own great heritage and line of impeccable ancestors: what do they have in common? Was there
something in the air in the 1920s? The answer is both simple and complex.
Let us first look at two pieces by Hindemith and Stravinsky, 1922 Suite für Klavier and
Serenade in A. In the 1920s European music circle, when composers like Schönberg were seeking ways of organizing pitches such that every note was equal, composers like Hindemith and Stravinsky revisited the idea of tonality and came up with their own solution: tonal cliché.
Neither used tonality in traditional fashion; however, both discovered a way of reinventing the major/minor system. The outcome is what we see in these two pieces: Stravinsky’s tonal ambiguity/duality and Hindemith’s polytonality/modality. Both compositional devices involve the presence of two or more tonal tendencies. Whereas Stravinsky achieved it by superimposing thirds and creating overlapping triadic implications, Hindemith took advantage of heavy textures and juxtaposed two diatonic key areas. Example 6.1 shows one comparison between two excerpts from the composers.
53
Example 6.1
The opening chord of Serenade, demonstrating the F/A tonal ambiguity:
Mm. 32-33 from Marsch, 1922 Suite für Klavier:
Thus, the implication of tonal centers is achieved in somewhat different ways.
Stravinsky’s and Hindemith’s common interests do not stop at tonal clichés. Their
fascination with dances and popular culture is also shown in their works. Ragtime, a favorite
genre among European composers, inspired three pieces by Stravinsky (Piano Ragtime, Ragtime
for Eleven Instruments and Ragtime from the Soldier’s Tale) and one by Hindemith in the 1922
Suite für Klavier. It became only more fascinating when the two composers landed on American soil and made their career-changing debut on the east and west coasts of the United States.
Dance music was immensely popular among this group of composers, as evidenced by the Waltzer and Klaviersuite, Op. 25 by Schönberg, Boston and Shimmy by Hindemith, second movement from Stravinsky’s Sonata 1924 and Danse by Prokofiev. These dances are from 54
different eras, different cultures, and for different occasions. Yet they are all connected on the
common ground of neoclassicism.
It is interesting that Stravinsky, Hindemith, and Prokofiev all revisited one type of music,
evening music, in Serenade, Nachtstück, and Nocturne. This raises the question: why evening
music? Was it because of the Expressionistic movement at the time? Maybe it was the one genre
that could easily escape the lush Romanticism. When thinking about evening music, one cannot
help but reflect upon a great line of works that includes Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, the
slow movement from Brahms’s Piano Sonata No.3, and the rich collection of Chopin’s
Nocturnes. Did neo-classical composers have those forerunners in mind when they composed these works? Or were they merely evoking the nature of night music? To answer the question, let
us examine details of the evening music by Hindemith and Prokofiev.
“Nachtstück” is the center movement of Hindemith’s 1922 Suite für Klavier. Upon hearing the score, one composer’s name jumps readily to my mind: Palestrina. This neo-
Renaissance approach to polyphony is quite a surprise, for most evening music is of a secular nature, and the kind of Renaissance polyphony evoked by Hindemith is of sacred kind. The slow moving bass line and quasi-imitation between the top voices resemble a Renaissance motet or mass. This interest in early music is further carried out in his Piano Concerto, in which a quasi - sixteenth century polyphony can also be found.
In contrast, in Prokofiev’s Nocturne we hear a resemblance to the later night music. The clear presence of melody and accompaniment and the overall piano atmosphere can be traced back to evening music during the nineteenth century. The tempo marking here is Larghetto (non troppo lento.) The dynamics throughout the piece are mostly p and pp with a couple of rare 55
appearances of mf. Combined with the harmonic dissonances and rhythmic underpinning
(mentioned in previous chapters), it is truly a transcendental moment.
Looking back upon all the composers and pieces I have analyzed, I cannot help but
wonder: what would our musical world be like had we not had this so called neoclassical period?
However one might venture to answer the question, my study has prompted me to treasure these
pieces more than ever before.
A return to simplicity. This direct and perhaps even naïve goal created a generation of
composers whose works are anything but simple and whose neoclassical outcome is a pleasant
surprise. “In the process of assimilation to the past, where does the integrity and originality fit
in”? This is a question that was raised in the first chapter. Caught up in the midst of Boulez and
Schönberg, answering the question with any definitiveness perhaps seemed unlikely. However,
after five chapters of analysis and comparison, the answer is much clearer. The composers of this
study—Schönberg, Hindemith, Prokofiev, and Stravinsky—never questioned their originality in
the process of revisiting the past. Originality is in the very being of a great composer. Who has not revisited traditions? Beethoven? Brahms? Mahler? Each of these was also, in some sense, a
“neo-” composer (neo-traditionalists perhaps?). Tradition is something to be passed on with honor and respect and is also something that needs to be challenged and revitalized. So the answer to our questions are now easy. Integrity? Absolutely. Originality? Definitely.
56
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