A “Farewell” to His Past: Krzysztof Penderecki's Clarinet Quartet And

A “FAREWELL” TO HIS PAST:

KRZYSZTOF PENDERECKI’S CLARINET QUARTET AND SEXTET

A document submitted to

The Graduate School of the University of Cincinnati

in partial fulfillment of the

requirements for the degree of

DOCTOR OF MUSICAL ARTS

in the Performance Studies Division

of the College-Conservatory of Music

2012

Peter L. Cain

B.M., Vanderbilt University, 2007

M.M., University of Minnesota, 2009

Abstract

Krzysztof Penderecki’s turn in the last three decades to a more approachable style

can be seen most clearly in his chamber music. Although larger works like his Credo and

Seven Gates of Jerusalem have received more recent attention, Penderecki himself points

to chamber music as his most fertile area of innovation. This document compares the

Clarinet Quartet and Sextet to his other recent works, both chamber and large-scale. It

uses motivic and intervallic analysis to expose the underlying structure of the works, and

then compares the compositional fabric of these two pieces to other recent chamber

works. It also situates these works within the larger picture of Penderecki’s later output and argues that the Clarinet Quartet is a key work that marks a turning point in his later

“synthesis” period.

iii

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Introduction ...... 1 Chapter 2: Background ...... 5 Biography ...... 5 Compositional Periods ...... 8 The Idea of Synthesis ...... 11 Dramatic/Sacred Works ...... 13 Influences ...... 14 Conclusion ...... 16 Chapter 3: Clarinet Quartet ...... 17 Sources ...... 17 Background ...... 18 Recordings/arrangements ...... 22 Interesting Aspects ...... 22 Form ...... 23 Motives ...... 25 Implied Keys ...... 32 Limited Intervallic Palette ...... 36 Conclusion ...... 40 Chapter 4: Sextet ...... 41 Background ...... 41 Episodic Aspects ...... 43 Form ...... 49 Melodic motives ...... 54 Intervallic Limits ...... 64 Rhythmic motives ...... 65 Tonal Implications...... 69 Comparisons with the Quartet ...... 70 Conclusions ...... 73 Chapter 5: Works of the “Synthesis” period ...... 74 v

The Idea of Synthesis ...... 74 Overarching Penderecki Characteristics ...... 76 Form ...... 78 Motives ...... 81 Intervals ...... 84 Other Compositional Characteristics Unique to the Synthesis Period ...... 85 Chamber Music in the Synthesis period ...... 90 Major Pieces of the Synthesis Period ...... 93 Placing Clarinet/Chamber Works in context of Penderecki’s Late Period ...... 95 Conclusions ...... 96 Chapter 6: Conclusion ...... 98 Bibliography ...... 100 Appendix A: Discography ...... 105

List of Figures

Figure 3.1: Similarities between the Schubert Quintet and the Clarinet Quartet ...... 21

Figure 3.2: Clarinet Quartet, first movement, mm. 1–6, with motives highlighted (initial entrances only) ...... 26

Figure 3.3: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 34–37 ...... 27

Figure 3.4: Clarinet Quartet, first movement, mm. 16–20, clarinet and viola ...... 27

Figure 3.5: Various uses of the oscillating semitone motive in the Clarinet Quartet ...... 29

Figure 3.6: Clarinet Quartet, various “bouncing” motives ...... 31

Figure 3.7: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 17–20, the R motive ...... 32

Figure 3.8: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 1–8, with G# minor highlighted ...33

Figure 3.9: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 12–14, Clarinet (in A ) plays ‘A’ motive to reinforce key of F with violin ...... 33

Figure 3.10: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 41–52, the A (i8) motive, reinforcing F...... 35

Figure 3.11: Clarinet Quartet, first movement, mm. 1–11. Arrows point out the only non-ic 1,3, or 6 intervals ...... 37

Figure 3.12: Clarinet Quartet, third movement, mm. 1–6, variations on the D motive ....38

Figure 3.13: Clarinet Quartet, first movement, mm. 12–19 ...... 39

Figure 4.1: Sextet, second movement, opening ...... 45

Figure 4.2: Sextet, first movement, mm. 10–15, 24–32, the initial melody and its inversion in violin and clarinet ...... 47

Figure 4.3: Sextet, first movement, mm. 73–74, one of many chaotic passages ...... 48

Figure 4.4: An outline of the first movement with possible sonata-form areas superimposed ...... 50

Figure 4.5: Outline of the second movement ...... 53

Figure 4.6: Sextet, first movement, mm. 10–19, with motives outlined ...... 55 vii

Figure 4.7: Sextet, first movement, different uses of the A motive ...... 55

Figure 4.8: Sextet, first movement, mm. 55–65, with motives marked ...... 56

Figure 4.9: Sextet, first movement, mm. 31–42, alternation between A and B material ...58

Figure 4.10: Sextet, first movement, main motives ...... 59

Figure 4.11: Variations on the R motive ...... 62

Figure 4.12: Sextet, second movement, the two versions of the Horn motive ...... 63

Figure 4.13: Sextet, first movement, the evolving eighth-note bass ostinato ...... 66

Figure 4.14: Sextet, second movement, recurring ostinati ...... 68

Figure 4.15: Comparison of i9 motives ...... 72

Figure 5.1: Chamber Music works since 1985 ...... 91

Figure 5.2: Selected Major Works since 1985 ...... 95

Chapter 1: Introduction

Krzysztof Penderecki (b. 1933) is an enigma of a composer. After bursting onto

the scene as the avant-garde’s enfant terrible in 1959, he briefly composed works that

stretched the limits of music as it was then known. Works like Threnody for the Victims

of Hiroshima (1961), Fluorescences (1962), and his first two string quartets (1960, 1968)

used experimental notation and compositional devices like tone clusters and extended

techniques to create a sound world not previously heard, termed by many “sonorism.” As

Aaron Johnson points out, this three-year span is virtually the only compositional period

of Penderecki that most textbooks and music history classes cover.1

Yet it is what Penderecki did after this period that is perhaps more intriguing.

Sensing that he could no longer keep pushing the envelope and writing music “against” everything that had come before, Penderecki consciously took a step back and began incorporating earlier styles of music.2 He did not quite begin writing in imitation of

earlier eras; rather, he incorporated formal and (occasionally) tonal ideas into the sound

aesthetic with which he had experimented during his avant-garde period (1959–1962).

After almost two decades of sampling ideas from the Renaissance through the Romantic

periods, Penderecki’s music began to stabilize into a compositional language of his own,

one that he has described as a “synthesis” of all that has come before it: a synthesis of

1 Aaron Johnson, “An analysis of selected traditional and non-traditional elements of harmony in Credo by Krzysztof Penderecki” (DMA diss., Louisiana State University and Agricultural & Mechancial College, 2004), 104–5.

2 Richard Dufallo, Trackings (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 346.

centuries of musical ideas, of all the ideas of the twentieth century, and of all the different

styles in which he has composed.3

This period of synthesis, beginning in the mid-1980s, has many compositional

hallmarks that will be addressed in this paper. Chief among them is a restriction of

intervallic content to the interval classes 1, 3, and 6, as well as the use of a few important

motives that Penderecki uses in many of his late works. These aspects serve to unify and formally organize works that initially seem quite episodic on the surface-level.

The synthesis period is also notable for its shift in Penderecki’s focus: instead of composing exclusively large-scale dramatic and religious works, he has also expanded into writing more absolute music, producing much more symphonic and chamber music.

Indeed, Penderecki has written that he returned to chamber music for the clarity and simplicity of reduced voices, a sort of laboratory in which to reduce music to its essence and seek the “synthesis” of its most essential elements.4 Yet despite Penderecki’s stated belief in the significance of chamber music, very little attention has been paid to these pieces. Most of the extensive literature on Penderecki’s music focuses on his avant-garde

period, and although more is now being written about his most recent period, many of

these studies focus on his large-scale works like the Credo (1998) and the Seven Gates of

Jerusalem (1996). Although these works are mostly in his new synthesis style, they still

retain some of the characteristics of his earlier, overly dramatic religious works. To truly

explore Penderecki’s late style at its most bare, one must look at his chamber music. This

3 Robert Schwarz, “First a Firebrand, Then a Romantic. Now What?” New York Times, October 20, 1996, sec. 2, 33.

4 Krzysztof Penderecki, Labyrinth of Time: Five Addresses for the End of the Century (Chapel Hill: Hinshaw Music, 1998), 18–19.

3 document will focus on two of the most important pieces of Penderecki’s late chamber music: the Clarinet Quartet (1993) and the Sextet (2000).

Chapter 2 gives a brief biographical overview of Penderecki’s life and his compositional periods. It discusses the scholarly views of his career thus far, the major genres in which he has composed, and the influences on his work.

Chapter 3 addresses the Clarinet Quartet, a work that has already begun to enter the repertoire. It looks at the background of the work and the few secondary sources already available about the piece. It then analyzes the piece based on its form, motives, intervals, and implied keys.

Chapter 4 looks at the newer Sextet in a similar manner to the Quartet. It analyzes how the form, motives, and intervallic content of the piece work in a unifying manner to overcome the initially episodic nature of the work. It also briefly compares the

Sextet to the Quartet.

Chapter 5 looks at the late synthesis period as a whole and places the Clarinet

Quartet and the Sextet in the context of the other works from this period. It argues that the Quartet in particular is a seminal work in terms of a turning point in Penderecki’s synthesis compositional style. It then summarizes the compositional aspects unique to

Penderecki’s late works, as well as how they affect the three areas examined in Chapters

3 and 4: form, motives, and intervals. Finally, it looks at Penderecki’s other chamber and large-scale works from this period and compares them to the two clarinet works.

Despite Penderecki’s traditional focus on larger works, his recent compositional trend has included a shift towards writing more chamber music. I believe a study of these 4 two important chamber works is sorely needed to put them in the context of his larger, more frequently studied works. 5

Chapter 2: Background

Biography

Krzysztof Penderecki was born in 1933 in Dębica, a small town in southern

Poland near Kraków.5 Krzysztof was the middle of three children. His father was a lawyer who, along with Krzysztof’s uncles, was an amateur violinist, so there was always music in the house. As a child Penderecki experienced both the horrors of World War II and the culturally oppressive Communist rule of Poland. He was also raised as an extremely pious Catholic; indeed, his mother initially wanted him to be a priest.6 Cindy

Bylander sees these contrasting characteristics of his childhood represented in some of the abiding themes in his music: a strong sense of morality, a passion for justice, and an interest in theology.7 Others have pointed to the dualisms constant throughout his music as possibly coming from such a childhood: good vs. evil, darkness vs. light, sacred vs. profane.8

Penderecki was an accomplished violinist in his youth and studied violin for two semesters at Kraków’s Intermediate School of Music before deciding to switch solely to

5 Penderecki’s biography has been treated in numerous sources; most sources seem to draw either on the multitude of interviews with the composer or his main biography: Wolfram Schwinger, Krzysztof Penderecki: His Life and Work, trans. William Mann (London: Schott, 1989), originally published as Penderecki: Begegnungen, Lebensdaten, Werkkommentare (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags- Anstalt, 1979).

6 Bernard Jacobson, A Polish Renaissance (London: Phaidon, 1996), 133.

7 Cindy Bylander, “Krzysztof Penderecki,” in Music of the Twentieth-Century Avant-Garde: A Biocritical Sourcebook, ed. Larry Sitsky (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2002), 373.

8 Mieczysław Tomaszewski, Krzysztof Penderecki and his music: four essays (Kraków: Akademia Muzyczna w Krakowie, 2003), 11, 27.

composition.9 Once he switched, his first composition teacher was Franciszek

Skołyszewski. He next enrolled at the State Academy of Music, where he studied with

Artur Malawski and Stanisław Wiechowicz.10 Penderecki would later say that these

teachers were very conservative in their teaching, but provided him a good background in

counterpoint and other traditional compositional techniques.11 Even if his teachers had been more forward-thinking, very few Modernist developments were known in the early

1950s before the Iron Curtain began to loosen.

The limited number of outside musical influences in Poland makes it easy to trace when Penderecki first heard certain styles. It seems clear that Penderecki had encountered very little contemporary music before 1956. In this year, after a loosening of

Polish government supression, the Warsaw Autumn Festival was founded to promote new music. The 1956 festival featured Stravinsky, Honegger, and Schoenberg;

Penderecki later said that this is the first time he had heard of Le sacre du printemps.12

The 1958 Warsaw Autumn festival featured even more modernist music: Webern,

Boulez, Berio, Nono, and Stockhausen. Penderecki remembers this vividly, and even remembers the scores that Nono brought with him and left with Penderecki to study:

Schoenberg’s Five Orchestral Pieces, op. 15, Boulez’s Improvisations sur Mallarmé,

Webern’s Five Pieces for Orchestra, and Nono’s Il Canto di Spezzo and Coro di

9 Wolfram Schwinger, “The Changes in the Four Decades: The Stylistic Paths of Krzysztof Penderecki,” Studies in Penderecki I (1998): 65.

10 Ray Robinson, Krzysztof Penderecki: A Guide to his Works (Princeton: Prestige Publications, 1983), 2.

11 Dufallo, 341.

12 Bylander, Sourcebook, 374; Dufallo, 341.

Didone.13 These scores had a profound impact on Penderecki. Several of his student

works written in 1958–59 show signs of specific pieces; for instance, Strophes has been

called a mixture of Nono and Boulez’s Improvisations sur Mallarmé.14

After graduation in 1958 Penderecki immediately started teaching at the State

Academy, as well as composing and teaching theology at a local seminary. 15 His career got an immediate boost the next year, when the Second Competition for Young

Composers awarded three prizes in a blind competition instead of its normal two. When the composers of the pieces were revealed, Penderecki had written all three works:

Strophes, Emanations, and Psalms of David. The prize for the winner included two months’ study in Italy (where he again met Nono), performances of the works at the 1959

Warsaw Autumn Festival, and a performance of these works at the Darmstadt festival.16

Although the Darmstadt festival was, for many composers, the place where they

interacted with other avant-garde composers and found their musical voice, Penderecki

never even attended or had contact with the festival (or the West) until he was already

having his works performed there and many of his avant-garde approaches were already

set. One must always judge Penderecki’s quotes based on who he feels his harshest

critics are at the time of the interview. However, his quote about Darmstadt makes

13 Bylander, Sourcebook, 374.

14 Schwinger, “Changes,” 68.

15 Robinson, A Guide to his Works, 3.

16 Schwinger, Penderecki, 20.

musical sense when asked why he never had much contact with the festival, even after he

had been there: “They were interested in dots, whereas I was interested in lines.”17

Compositional Periods

Many Penderecki scholars have tried to assign style periods to the composer’s

work, as could be expected for any artist that changes styles so radically throughout his

career. Indeed, the initial volume of the Studies in Penderecki journal dedicates its first

four chapters to leading scholars attempting to separate the composer’s output into

identifiable periods, often after pointing out the problems with making such a strict

assignation.18 Such difficulties include the fact that the time periods have “blurry edges” and overlap in ways that are not strictly chronological, as well as the fact that

Penderecki’s pieces are occasionally so eclectic as to defy categorization.19 It is also more useful to sometimes look at the agenda of the person doing the categorizing: different scholars have assigned different styles and time spans to fit with their analyses.20 Indeed, Johnson points out that Penderecki himself has claimed at different

times to have had three different periods, then two different periods, and now, one

17 Regina Chłopicka, “Stylistic Phases in the Work of Krzysztof Penderecki,” Studies in Penderecki I (1998): 52.

18 Studies in Penderecki I (1998), Robinson and Chłopicka, eds., 13–82. Robinson finds three main periods, each with two subperiods, Tomaszewski finds six style periods, Chłopicka finds seven, and Schwinger finds only four.

19 Ray Robinson, “Penderecki’s Musical Pilgimage,” Studies in Penderecki I (1998): 35; Johnson, 111.

20 Andrzej Chłopecki, analyzing Ubu Rex, manages to separate his time periods assigning one to each of his four operas, coming up with periods completely different from anybody else. “At the cabinet of crooked mirrors, or, Ubu rex in Penderecki's ouevre,” in The Music of Krzysztof Penderecki: poetics and reception / studies, essays and materials, ed. Mieczysław Tomaszewski (Kraków: Akademia Muzyczna w Krakowie, 1996), 21.

continuous style with different “wrappings.”21 Nevertheless, it is useful to assign broad descriptors as a way of quickly covering Penderecki’s long career.

Wolfram Schwinger calls Penderecki’s initial three-year period of avant-garde experiments “Explosion.”22 These pieces were known for unconventional sounds and

notation, as well as effects like tone clusters and glissandi—what would later become

known as sonorism. This period was also extremely short: most of the scholars argue that

it lasted only three years until 1962, after the composition of Flourescences (1961–1962).

After Fluorescences, Penderecki claimed that he realized that there was no way to go forward in terms of pushing the avant-garde envelope, and he consciously took a step back from the brink. He studied Renaissance counterpoint and the Flemish masters

Ockeghem and Obrecht, whose styles he says can clearly be seen in his Stabat Mater

(1962). 23 His work in the 1960s–70s reflected a newfound love of the Renaissance and

Baroque compositional techniques (he mentions counterpoint, harmony, and

orchestration), which he traced back to his conservative compositional training.24 These techniques also helped him write in longer forms.25 His shift was not a complete one,

however. For the most part Penderecki did not try to compose in a style that was an exact

imitation of these composers. Rather, he used their organizing techniques like polyphony

to try to bring some sense to the new compositional language he had just discovered, or

21 Johnson, 111; “The Seminar Meeting with Penderecki,” in The Music of Krzysztof Penderecki: Poetics and Reception, ed. Mieczysław Tomaszewski (Kraków: Akademia Muzyczna, 1995), 122.

22 Schwinger, “Changes,” 69.

23 Dufallo, 346.

24 Bernard Holland, “Penderecki is retrogressing now—on purpose,” New York Times, January 12, 1986, Section 2, p. 25.

25 Dufallo, 346.

perhaps, to give the harmonies he had unleashed a “purpose.”26 Penderecki kept using the

sounds he had discovered earlier, but what set him apart from the avant-garde was that, in his view, he “put the elements under control, and made them obey the requirements of expression.”27

In the mid-1970s Penderecki took a step even further away from his initial

revolution, embracing what even he has, at times, called neo-Romanticism. He has since declared that the label has no meaning, and prefers terms like “lyrical” to describe such characteristics.28 Pieces from this period have lush melodies, neotonality, and expressive

romantic gestures, while still not losing Penderecki’s lessons on counterpoint from the

Renaissance and Baroque.29 Commentators pointed out that unlike George Rochberg or

David Del Tredici, Penderecki never lost his feverish expressionistic moods, or his

interest in sound colors; instead, he simply added tonal implications to his avant-garde style.30 Penderecki has also traced his experiments in these earlier traditions to his

burgeoning career as a conductor, which attuned him to the realities of actually

performing music and brought him in contact with an ever-broader repertoire by other

composers.31

26 Mieczysław Tomaszewski, “Penderecki’s Dialogues and Games with Time and Place on Earth,” Studies in Penderecki I (1998): 21.

27 Tomaszewski, “Dialogues,” 18.

28 Izabella Grzenkowicz, “Conversations with Krzysztof Penderecki,” Polish Music 12, no. 3 (1977), 27; Dufallo, 350.

29 Tomaszewski, “Dialogues,” 23.

30 Robert Schwarz, “Penderecki: Violin Concerto and Cello Concerto No. 2,” Musical America 108, no. 3 (July 1988), 80.

31 Dufallo, 350. 11

Penderecki entered his most recent period in the 1980s, one which he says is

based on a “synthesis” of all his previous compositional elements. He has always said

that he is searching for a “universal language” with which to relate to his audiences,

which is why he kept changing techniques until he found one.32 It seems that in this

synthesis period he has finally found what he sees as this universal language.33

Interestingly, in Tomaszewski’s 2003 revision of the essay that was originally published

in Studies I (1998), he breaks up the synthesis period into two parts: 1985–1993 he labels

as “Threshold of a New Synthesis: The Phase of the Black Mask,” while 1994–2003 he

calls “Second Wind: Phase of the Credo.”34 This division is right around the time of the

composition of the String Trio and Clarinet Quartet. In fact, even more so than the

String Trio, the Clarinet Quartet is a key piece that marks a turning point in his late

period from his initial “threshold” into his full-fledged synthesis style. As I will argue in

Chapter 6, it is one of the first significant chamber works that Penderecki has written, and it best embodies the style characteristics of his late period.

The Idea of Synthesis

For Penderecki, the idea of synthesis allows him to claim that he was always composing in the same style: “The ‘wrapping’ is now different, but the content has remained the same.”35 He argues that he is combining an entire century of compositional

32 Grzenkowicz, 25.

33 A detailed analysis of the compositional aspects of this synthesis language is in Chapter 6.

34 Tomaszewski, Essays, 98.

35 “The Seminar Meeting,” 122.

progress, just as Mahler did at the end of the previous century.36 At other times he has said his synthesis of many styles is similar to his multiethnic background of several eastern European nationalities.37

Although he has changed styles several times while searching for this universal

language, there does seem to be some after-the-fact justification to finally settling on a style that synthesizes earlier compositional periods. Johnson points out that he had previously championed the fact that he was changing styles each time he tried something new, especially when he was fighting to justify himself to avant-garde critics.38 For

instance, in the 1960s and 70s, he distanced himself from the avant-garde, saying that

most of them “had no talent, and went with the prevailing winds,” even denying that

there was such thing as a Polish School of composers and sonorism.39 Although he never disowned the specific avant-garde works that made him famous, he seemed to view his

sudden break with it as an actual break, unlike now where he claims to be combining the

best from every period, including his sonoristic days.

Although detailed compositional aspects of this language will be discussed in

Chapter 6, this synthesis period has been summed up in a few different ways.

Mieczysław Tomaszewski writes that after the “outward stretching” of his neo-Romantic

period, this new period features more succinct works, with a reduction of excess: he

“wanted to depart from the monumentality [of neo-Romanticism].”40 For Schwinger, this

36 Penderecki, Labyrinth, 77.

37 Penderecki, Labyrinth, 17.

38 Johnson, 111.

39 Grzenkowicz, 29.

40 Tomaszewski, “Dialogues,” 26. 13

synthesis reinserts functional sound to the “luxuriant sound-ideals” of the neo-Romantic

period.41

Dramatic/Sacred Works

Penderecki has produced a vast output of works and it would be remiss not to

mention two major areas of his composition, sacred works and operas. As mentioned

previously, he was raised as a devout Catholic, and this stayed with him throughout his

life. The Psalms of David was one of his student works, and the St. Luke Passion (1965)

was one of the major first pieces in his non-avant-garde style. Other major works have

included the Polish Requiem (1984), the Seven Gates of Jerusalem (Symphony #7)

(1996), and the Credo (1998). Indeed, Penderecki might not be wrong in claiming that he

has written more sacred music than any other composer of the twentieth century besides

Messaien.42 This focus on sacred works during the Cold War allowed Penderecki to

subtly protest a Communist government while not overtly crossing the line. This is

especially true in the sacred works like Lacrimosa (1980), dedicated to the Solidarity

movement, or the Te Deum, dedicated to the ascension of the Polish Pope John Paul II to

the papacy (1980).43

Penderecki has also written four major operas in his career, often on the subjects of good and evil, lightness and darkness: The Devils of Loudun (1969), Paradise Lost

(1975), The Black Mask (1984), and Ubu Rex (1991). Interestingly, despite occasional statements from critics that all of his instrumental works are as similarly dramatic as the

41 Schwinger, “Changes,” 77.

42 Penderecki, Labyrinth, 89.

43 Bylander, Biobibliography, 10–12

sacred and dramatic works, Penderecki denies this. He argues that his non-opera music is seen as dramatic only by Polish critics because Poland has no comparative late nineteenth-century symphonic tradition to compare it to.44 At other times, however he

has argued that Slavic music has always been more dramatic and personal than other

traditions, and that his compositions are that way because of his nationality.45

Influences

Despite having disowned the avant-garde movement’s approach to music,

Penderecki is adamant when defending his claim to having invented some elements of sonorism.46 When it comes to the rest of his music, however, he is surprisingly open

about the composers on whose works he is drawing. Indeed, in different periods of his

compositional development, Penderecki has pointed to different composers as being his

chief influences.

Early influences on Penderecki are obvious ones based on his education and

whose scores he had access to, as previously discussed. These include Bartók,

Stravinsky, Schoenberg, and Webern. Indeed, some scholars have traced some of

Penderecki’s pieces back to specific pieces he encountered, such as Strophes being

influenced by the score of Boulez’s Improvisations sur Mallarmé that Nono brought in

1958.47 Wolfram Schwinger has also traced student works like Emanations to Webern’s

44 “The Seminar Meeting,” 122.

45 Dubinsky, “Penderecki at the Beinecke Library.” Colloquium: Music, worship, arts. III (2006): Inculturation—Genealogies, meanings, and musical dynamics. New Haven: Yale Institute of Sacred Music, 2006.

46 Dufallo, 343–44.

47 Schwinger, “Changes,” 68.

brand of serialism, or Psalms of David to Stravinsky’s rhythmic and chordal elements and

Schoenberg’s linear and structural characteristics.48 Others have seen influences as

varied as Honegger, Orff, Prokofiev, and Hindemith in his student works.49 Perhaps

most relevant to Penderecki’s later works, including the Clarinet Quartet and Sextet,

Schwinger finds certain elements of Bartók present as early as his Sonata for Violin

(1953) that have remained Penderecki trademarks to this day: Major/minor mode

mixture, mixed meters, and “melodic writing and arabesque-like spinning-out

[Fortspinnung] of the thematic ideas.”50

Once Penderecki began shifting styles and trying to find a language other than sonorism, he began mentioning other composers in interviews. In his mid-1960s look back to the Renaissance and Baroque, he told an interviewer than his influences were, in order:

1) Bach, Berlioz, and Tchaikowsky 2) Bartók and Stravinsky 3) Ockeghem, Obrecht, and Josquin.51

Later, in his neo-Romantic phase, he listed Bruckner, Mahler, Wagner, Strauss, and

Sibelius, pointing out once that Bruckner and Sibelius were called “conservative and

academic” in their own era also, a criticism to which he could relate at the time.52 He

later recanted this, after finding his synthesis style, and said that Bruckner and Mahler

were only a “fad” in his interests, although the composers like Bartók and Stravinsky

48 Schwinger, “Changes,” 67.

49 Tomaszewski, “Dialogues,” 14; Schwinger, “Changes,” 66.

50 Schwinger, “Changes,” 66.

51 Boguslaw Maciejewski, Twelve Polish Composers (United Kingdom: Allegro Croydon, 1976), 168.

52 Holland, 25; Grzenkowicz, 13.

were permanent influences.53 It is important to note that very few of these influences are

exact mimicry; rather, they can be seen in certain compositional aspects that Penderecki

includes in his pieces. The influences are “not in the notes, but in certain gestures and

virtuoso passages.”54

Conclusion

Penderecki’s biography is important to an understanding of his works because he

is so rooted in the time and place of his upbringing. His early years as a devout Catholic

in a war-torn and repressed Poland is essential to understanding the recurring themes in his works, his flair for the dramatic, and his penchant for reaching back to the traditional elements of musical composition. Even though his fame and a loosening of Communist rules kept him from dealing with government interference during his adult life, he points to the environment of his childhood and student years as continuing to be influential on his compositions.

53 Dubinsky, “Penderecki at the Beinecke Library.”

54 Schwarz, “Firebrand,” 33. 17

Chapter 3: Clarinet Quartet

Penderecki’s Quartet for Clarinet and String Trio was commissioned by the

Schleswig-Holstein Music Festival and premiered on August 13, 1993 in Lübeck. It is

dedicated to Åke Holmquist, and was premiered by Sharon Kam, Christoph Poppen, Kim

Kashkashian, and Boris Pergamenschikov.55 This same group played the piece again on

November 23 as part of a gala concert celebrating Penderecki’s sixtieth birthday. Both a

CD and DVD recording exist of this concert, including a documentary-like introduction

to the Quartet interviewing Penderecki and the musicians on the DVD. While there is no recording of the premiere concert, it was supposedly well received. Pergamenschikov states that it was so popular the entire piece had to be repeated as an encore.56

Sources

There are several sources relating to the Quartet that are useful in studying it:

a. An interview with Penderecki about the Quartet on the Sony DVD of the

composer’s gala birthday concert.57

b. A transcript of a seminar meeting at a conference celebrating his 60th birthday,

where several Penderecki scholars interview the composer about the Quartet

specifically and his music in the early 1990s in general.58

55 Krzysztof Penderecki, Quartett für Klarinette und Streichtrio (Mainz: Schott, 1993).

56 Krzysztof Penderecki, Penderecki: A Celebration, DVD, Sharon Kam et al. (Chatsworth, CA: RM Arts, Dist. by Image Entertainment, 2002).

57 Penderecki, Penderecki: A Celebration.

58 “The Seminar Meeting with Penderecki,” in The Music of Krzysztof Penderecki: Poetics and Reception, ed. Mieczysław Tomaszewski (Kraków: Akademia Muzyczna, 1995), 119–26.

c. An article in The Clarinet by Peter Stoll in which he mostly relates his

experiences playing the piece for Penderecki, but includes some useful errata

and other performance tips.59

d. An article by Allmuth Behrendt attempting to place the Quartet and

Penderecki’s other chamber works into the context of his career.60

Unfortunately for the lay clarinetist, the two most useful of these to understanding the

Quartet are the Behrendt and the seminar meeting, one in German and the other in a relatively rare book. The following summary will attempt to compile most of what is written about the piece, and highlight any points not commonly seen in liner notes and reviews. Chapter 6 will address the comments from these sources that are more generally about his philosophies on composing and chamber music.

Background

Penderecki’s Clarinet Quartet was written at a time when his synthesis period was coalescing into a more consistent, coherent style. Although he had been composing in this style for almost a decade, the works were more sporadic in style, and he had not yet turned to consistently writing chamber music. He addresses what the movement titled

“Abschied” is a farewell to, and says this:

59 Peter Stoll, “Penderecki...By Penderecki!” The Clarinet 37, no. 4 (September 2010): 56–60. Stoll gives several performance tips relayed to him by Penderecki, among the most interesting is Penderecki’s suggestion that there be a “quasi attacca” between the first and second movements—making the entire piece continuous. He also cites two misprints that Penderecki confirmed as errors: that the graces notes in mvt. II, m. 207 should be G# and A like the previous two measures, and the second Db in mvt. IV, m. 46 should be a C. Finally, he confirms that mvt. I, m. 9 is correct as printed, with a repeated Db on the downbeat.

60 Allmuth Behrendt, “‘Der unterbrochene Gedanke?’ Krzysztof Pendereckis Klarinettenquartett und seine Kammermusik nach 1980” [‘The Interrupted Thought?’ Krzysztof Penderecki’s Clarinet Quartet and his Chamber Music after 1980,] in Jeder Nach Seiner Fasson: Musikalische Neuansätze heute, ed. Ulrike Liedtke (Saarbrücken: Pfau-Verlag, 1997), 105–119. Much of Behrendt’s analysis of this aspect will be addressed in ch. 6. 19

A question should be asked: a farewell to what? Maybe to some kind of music, yet not necessarily the final farewell. There have been periods of time in my life when I would become interested in one type of music and then I would return to some other type. Recently, this mischievous goblin which has been always present somewhere in my music and my personality has calmed down, giving way to lyricism and concentration. The time has come to retreat into privacy again, to leave the turmoil.61

This implies that the Quartet is not only important as a milestone in terms of a turn to

chamber music and the creation of a unique piece, but is also important as a turning point

in Penderecki’s career, perhaps a final retirement from his previous wilder compositions.

Penderecki’s Clarinet Quartet was inspired by a performance of the Schubert

String Quintet that left a deep impression on him. He clarifies in the seminar meeting

and the DVD that this inspiration was in mood only, not in any specific formal or

compositional aspects. However, when pushed by the panel he admits that having

movements like a serenade, scherzo, and Abschied also point to Vienna, as does the use

of ostinati in the fourth movement.62 Indeed, Wolfram Schwinger argues that the restless

second cello part in the Schubert quintet, along with the unison violin and cello playing

the melody, are mirrored in the opening of the fourth movement of the Penderecki

(Figure 3.1).63 Others have pointed to other Viennese composers that the Quartet brings

to mind: Schoenberg for the third movement serenade, and Berg for the atmospheric outer movements.64 The liner notes to the Rascher Saxophone Quartet’s recording of the

61 “The Seminar Meeting,” 119.

62 “The Seminar Meeting,” 119–23.

63 Wolfram Schwinger, Liner Notes, Penderecki: Chamber Music, Ensemble Villa Musica, MDG 304 0917, 1999.

64 Tadeusz Zieliński, “The Penderecki Controversy,” Studies in Penderecki II (2003): 39; Tomasz Jeż, Liner Notes, Penderecki: String Quartets, String Trio, Clarinet Quartet, DAFÔ String Quartet, DUX 0770, 2010.

piece state that although Penderecki was inspired by the Schubert performance at the

Evian festival, he wrote the piece for such a specific instrumentation because he had

already been commissioned by the Schleswig-Holstein festival.65 This seems to be at

least somewhat at odds with what Penderecki says in the DVD interview:

And this performance gripped me to such an extent that I immediately started to write something similar, but for myself. There were many drafts. The whole piece took a long time. I wasn’t even sure whether to use the clarinet or another instrument. In my drafts there were also ideas for an octet, which I will write later.66

Penderecki states that the quartet was originally planned to be a seven-movement piece, which is why the four movements are of such unbalanced length.67 He also states

in the documentary that “there are clarinet quintets and so on, but I don’t think there’s a

‘clarinet quartet’ as such.”68 While it is true that the clarinet quintets (and trios) of

composers like Mozart, Brahms, and Weber are the most standard chamber music pieces

involving clarinet and strings in the repertoire, it is not true that a quartet for clarinet and

string trio had never existed. Crussel wrote at least three such quartets, and Krommer at

least six.69 However, it is hard to argue that these are part of the standard repertoire, or that Penderecki had likely even heard of them. They are certainly not as well-known as

Penderecki’s Quartet has become in the short time since it was written.

65 Rascher Saxophone Quartet, Europe, BIS-CD 1153, 2001.

66 Penderecki, Penderecki: A Celebration.

67 “The Seminar Meeting,” 119.

68 Penderecki, Penderecki: A Celebration.

69 See, for instance, Dieter Klocker, Krommer: Clarinet Quartets, CPO 999141–2, 1993; or Laszlo Horvath, Crusell: Clarinet Quartets Nos. 1–3, Hungaroton HCD 32570, 2009.

Figure 3.1: Similarities between the Schubert Quintet and the Clarinet Quartet

Schubert: String Quintet in C D. 956, Second movement, mm. 29–32

Penderecki: Clarinet Quartet, Fourth movement, mm. 1–4

Penderecki QUARTETT © 1993 Schott Music GmbH & Co. KG All rights reserved Used by permission of European American Music Distributors Company, sole U.S. and Canadian agent for Schott Music GmbH & Co. KG 22

Recordings/arrangements

As of this writing there have been at least nine recordings made of the Quartet, indicating that the piece has already begun to enter the standard chamber music repertoire for the clarinet.70 Penderecki almost immediately arranged the piece as a clarinet

“concerto” with string orchestra, called the Sinfonietta No. 2 and premiered by Paul

Meyer on July 13, 1994 with Penderecki conducting the Sinfonia Varsovia.71 So far,

however, only one recording has been made of this version, by Sharon Kam in 2000.72

An examination of the score shows very few differences from the original quartet

version. The second violins play in unison with the first violins most of the time on the

original violin part, splitting off from the first violins only to either drop out or play down an octave. The string bass plays the Bb in the opening movement, thus eliminating the need for a scordatura cello. The Clarinet Quartet was also arranged for and recorded by the Rascher Saxophone Quartet, at the suggestion of Penderecki himself.73

Interesting Aspects

The cello in the first movement plays a Bb pedal tone with an “ossia” part marked

down an octave, making it a whole step below the lowest string on standard tuning. It

appears that the “optional” version is the one the composer wants however—the low Bb is used in both the gala concert and most other recordings. Indeed, the review of the premiere says that the cellist had a second cello onstage to use, rather than retuning

70 See Appendix A: Discography.

71 Bylander, Biobibliography, 40.

72 Sharon Kam, Sharon Kam meets Krzysztof Penderecki, Hamburg: Teldec, 2000.

73 Raschèr Saxophone Quartet, Europe, Åkersberga, Sweden: BIS, 2001.

between movements, or attempting to play the rest of the piece with a tuned-down C string.74 Penderecki’s similar interest in sound can be seen in his selection of the A

clarinet for the outer, slow movements, and the Bb clarinet for the inner movements.

Although this might be seen as incidental, he explicitly states that he did so because of

the darker tone-color of the A clarinet.75

Form

As mentioned above, the Quartet is split into four movements, each with a

somewhat “Viennese” title that might be seen in Schubert. The movements are

I. Notturno, II. Scherzo, III. Serenade, and IV. Abschied [Farewell]. Despite this outward

appearance of being a four-movement work, it is easiest to observe its form by looking at

the piece as a whole. The second, third, and fourth movements are continuous (attacca),

and Peter Stoll’s account of his performance with Penderecki states that the composer

even requested the second movement to be played “quasi attacca” after the first, making

the entire piece sound like one movement.76

The cornerstone of the piece is the eight-minute fourth movement, which is as

long as the other movements combined. It is also the movement from which most of the

motivic material is taken (or, conversely, it combines motivic material from the previous

three movements). The slow first and fourth movements serve to form a slow “frame”

74 Lutz Lesle, “Feuerfarben und Wassertöne. Polnische Novitäten beim Schleswig-Holstein Musik Festival,” Das Orchester 42, no. 4 (1994): 27.

75 “The Seminar Meeting,” 120.

76 Stoll, 60

around the piece, while the inner movements are brief and light enough to have been

called “intermezzi.”77

With the exception of the second movement scherzo, which mostly retains its generically expected form, each of the first three movements is quite brief, and avoids a traditional formal structure. The first movement opens with an extended clarinet solo,

followed by a section of polyphony between the clarinet and viola. By the time the cello

enters (m. 20), the movement is already starting to come to a close, using increasingly

simpler rhythmic and melodic figures and motives that signal the arrival of Bb minor in a

tonic sense. The second movement begins with a strict unison pattern that builds up to a

climax before disintegrating into stretto and leading to a more humorous middle section.

The main unison theme returns, and after another climax descends into stretto figures that

lead directly to the third movement, held over by a solitary B in the viola. The third

movement is equally brief, and uses similar motivic material to the second movement.

An opening statement introduces a theme we have not heard before, which is interrupted

by an accelerando of chromatic chaos (mm. 9–16), seeming to come from the second

movement. The theme returns again (m. 17), this time marked capriccioso, but is again

overtaken by an accelerando to a climax, with stretto figures similar to those in the

second movement (mm. 29–37). The viola emerges with a solo and the other instruments

make brief interjections, but the movement has essentially lost purpose, and segues into

the fourth movement, again with a B, held in the cello this time.

Although the Abschied is the most significant movement of the piece, it too

avoids a standard form in favor of spinning out melodies. The opening sixteen measures

77 Behrendt, 112; Wolfram Schwinger, Liner Notes, Penderecki: Chamber Works, Eduard Brunner, Deutsches String Trio, CPO 999 730–2, 2000. 25

are highly reminiscent of the first movement in affect, but actually use the motives from

the second and third movements. A new section follows with ethereal chords (m. 17),

which accompany a clarinet melody that leads up to the violin cadenza (m. 33). The

cadenza flows into what seems like a recapitulation of sorts with the violin and clarinet in

polyphony. However, this return recalls the first movement in motivic and intervallic

content, and not the opening of the fourth movement. As with the first movement, the

ending gradually coalesces around a cello pedal tone, in this case F. This lasts for almost

half the movement, with the motives continuing to tonicize F and give the constant feeling of drawing to a close (or perhaps, saying Farewell?).

Motives

Almost all of the motives used in the Quartet are based on three primary intervals: the semitone (i1), the minor third (i3), and its inversion, the major sixth (i9). The opening cadenza-like clarinet solo in the first movement provides examples of several of the motives heard throughout the piece (Figure 3.2). The initial i3 that oscillates between its two pitches is a key motive in both slow movements. The opening phrase is built in an additive sense, always returning to the initial D-F i3 before continuing on to state more of the phrase each time. This opening statement also introduces the idea of a large ascending leap (i6, i9, or i11) followed by a descent of a semitone, here called ‘A’ because it acts as an appoggiatura both in contour and in tonal implications. Although

Penderecki breaks up this potential repetitiveness by switching octaves, the pitch class relations remain the same.

Figure 3.2: Clarinet Quartet, first movement, mm. 1–6, with motives highlighted (initial entrances only)

Indeed, the idea of a leap followed by a downward semitone is so strong that when Penderecki returns to this material in the final movement (m.34) most of the pitches and even some of the intervals are completely different, but it feels like a return to the first movement’s opening (Figure 3.3). For instance, the clarinet approaches the i3 motive from the top instead of the bottom, and then only leaps an i9 instead of an i11. It is as if the recapitulation is simply recalling earlier ideas instead of reproducing them.

Figure 3.3: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 34–37

One similar example of this motive is notable because of its exception to the limited interval collection used throughout the piece. The viola plays the A motive in mm. 16–17 of the first movement, and the clarinet echoes one measure later (Figure 3.4).

Although it remains an ascending leap followed by a descending semitone, the leap is a minor sixth (i8) instead of the expected i9. This has the effect of reinforcing a momentary feeling of E major/minor: the E leaps up to a C before resolving down to a B.

Figure 3.4: Clarinet Quartet, first movement, mm. 16–20, clarinet and viola

The motive of an oscillating semitone is also used to great effect throughout the piece (Figure 3.5). First introduced in the viola in the first movement (m. 21), it is used to help confirm the “key” of Bb by constantly returning to the fifth scale degree above the cello’s Bb pedal. The second movement uses this motive almost exclusively at the beginning. The D-Eb repetition is broken up only by leaps of the usual interval classes that then chromatically descend back to the baseline D-Eb ostinato. In this case

Penderecki uses the duple-feel of the dyad to constantly shift the feel of the meter, sometimes returning to the D to make a feeling of 3/4, and at other times creating hemiolas and other 2/4 figures. This motive is also used at the opening of the fourth movement: the clarinet and viola play only the oscillating semitone for the first eleven measures of the movement. What makes this motive unique is its ability to tonicize either the lower note or the upper note. In Figure 3.5a it returns to the lower note, the F, while in Figure 3.5c it returns to the higher note, holding out the Ab.

Figure 3.5: Various uses of the oscillating semitone motive in the Clarinet Quartet

a) Viola, first movement, mm. 20–24

b) Strings, second movement, mm. 1–8

c) Clarinet and Viola, fourth movement, mm. 1–4

The second and third movements also share several related motives, shown in

Figure 3.6. These motives are combined and used in various ways but they share common aspects, including prominently featuring the rising i9 interval and almost always repeating many of the pitches, as if they were bouncing. The most significant of these is the D motive (Figure 3.6c, d), which returns again in the opening of the fourth movement. It is also notable that the middle section of the scherzo (Figure 3.6a, b) features much of the material that will be used in the Serenade (Figure 3.6c), two historically quite different genres. This is yet further evidence that the Quartet is better viewed as one long single movement work.

One final motive is used in the fourth movement which is not seen anywhere else in the piece. At the arrival of the second section in m. 17 the strings sustain ethereal chords while the clarinet plays a melody that eventually dissolves into an oscillating semitone (Figure 3.7). The beginning of the melody, however, features the clarinet line wrapping around itself, with the contour segment <3201>. This motive is unique for using a rising semitone instead of only descending ones; it is also the ‘R’ motive that is used throughout the Sextet, written six years later.78

78 See Chapter 4. 31

Figure 3.6: Clarinet Quartet, second and third movements, various “bouncing” motives

a) Second movement, mm. 112–113:

b) Second movement, mm. 120–121:

c) Third movement, mm. 1–3:

d) Fourth movement, mm. 1–4, violin and cello:

Figure 3.7: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 17–20, the R motive

Implied Keys

Although Penderecki’s Quartet is neither tonal in a functionally harmonic sense, nor in terms of using only diatonic chords non-functionally, the piece does have general key areas implied in several places. Often these key areas are reinforced by pedal tones or by the motives themselves. For instance, the first movement’s opening motive of the oscillating i3 implies the root and third of a minor key, in this case d minor. Similarly, the pedal tone of Bb at the end of the movement is joined by the oscillating semitone in the viola returning to the open fifth above it to hint at Bb major/minor (mm. 21ff).

The other slow movement, the fourth, has even more implied keys. The two motives used in the opening both have long notes that when combined create a sense of g# minor (Figure 3.8). In this case the semitone motive reinforces its upper note, and the

D motive is followed by a descending semitone, turning its ending into the A motive.

Indeed, the A motive is often used to tonicize a key by making it sound like the resolution is the fifth of a new key area. For instance, a few measures later the clarinet and violin join together to create a feeling of F major/minor (mm. 13–14) (Figure 3.9).

Figure 3.8: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 1–8, with G# minor highlighted

Figure 3.9: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 12–14, Clarinet (in A ) plays ‘A’ motive to reinforce key of F with violin

Penderecki also uses other methods to imply key areas, including repeated or held

chords, as he does in the second section in the fourth movement (m. 17). Here the strings

all hold the root and fifth of C major/minor. Five measures later, the viola and cello play

a repeated b minor triad, with a sixteenth-eighth-sixteenth ostinato, a key which the clarinet seems to be in also (and decidedly not the cello). Similarly, the violin and viola move with the clarinet to Bb major in m. 26, again without the cello.

The end of the fourth movement, like the first movement, gradually comes around to being in one key area and then reinforces it repeatedly, in this case F minor (and

eventually major) instead of Bb minor. As with the first movement, the cello introduces a

long pedal well before the end of the movement. The violin repeatedly plays the

oscillating semitone motive that reinforces F, as well as a new motive of three ordered

semitones rising up to F repeated twice.79 Even the clarinet plays a motive not before

heard, which begins with the descending semitone and then drops a perfect fifth (Figure

3.10). This is almost like an out-of-order version of the A (i8) seen in Figure 3.3.

Indeed, this figure of the falling fifth is seen throughout the last 20 measures, as if to

make sure the listener understands the established key, perhaps it is even the motive

saying “Farewell” as the movement is called.

79 This will be used in the Sextet as the ‘A’ motive, see Chapter 4. 35

Figure 3.10: Clarinet Quartet, fourth movement, mm. 41-52, the A (i8) motive, reinforcing F

With the exception of the two repeated ostinato triads in mm. 22–27 of the fourth

movement, it is notable that key areas are never implied with actual triads. Instead, they are implied by motives outlining a root and fifth, or a root and minor third. This is perhaps because the limited intervallic content allows Penderecki to easily have the root

and third of a minor key with an i3, but not to do the same with a major third. Similarly,

the root and fifth are either introduced as pedals, or (more rarely), as an i8 or i9 with a

few descending semitones down to the fifth of the key. These appoggiatura approaches

retain enough of the initial pitch to give the feel of a leap of a perfect fifth. There is not

an equally suitable approach to a major third, however. The limited intervallic palette

refuses to allow an i5 leap followed by a descending semitone, and although there are

many i6 leaps followed by a string of descending semitones, these do not have the same

tonicizing effect when they reach the major third. Thus, most of the keys implied in the

piece are minor keys, or at most neutral open fifths, which are never imbued with the

major third to complete a major triad.

Limited Intervallic Palette

Even beyond the use of unifying motives, Penderecki’s use of a limited number of

intervals further serves to unify the piece, especially in sections where motives are not

immediately apparent. Indeed, the majority of the intervals in the entire piece belong to

interval classes 1 (i1, i11), 3 (i3, i9), or 6 (the tritone). For instance, in the initial eleven

measures of the first movement the only intervals not in interval classes 1, 3, or 6, are the five intervals shown in Figure 3.11, and the first four examples can be seen as a

“retaking” of the phrase, and not as functional intervals, with the last one butting up against the bottom of the clarinet’s range. Once the viola enters in counterpoint there is a 37

slight loosening of the intervallic content, but the vast majority of the intervals remain in

these classes.

Figure 3.11: Clarinet Quartet, first movement, mm. 1–11. Arrows point out the only non-ic 1,3, or 6 intervals

This limited intervallic palette has the dual effect of making the movements sound

harmonically similar even if they do not share identical pitches, and also of permitting

flexibility in motives that might otherwise not be allowed. That is, if all interval classes

were used freely, a large leap followed by a descending semitone would less effective,

but since the leaps are virtually guaranteed to be a member of ic 1, 3, or 6, the motive

remains recognizable even if Penderecki slightly alters it.

Penderecki’s use of the D motive demonstrates this. As seen most clearly in the violin and cello in the fourth movement, the motive involves a descending minor third, 38

followed by two rising major sixths, the second a semitone lower than the first (-3, 9, -10,

9) (Figure 3.6d). Ignoring the first note, this motive is at its barest the two i9s, which can

also be seen as two voices each descending a semitone, interspersed within each other. In

set class notation, this set of (0134) is also two semitones a minor third apart, or two

minor thirds a semitone apart (that is, 0134 or 0314).

The instances of the D motive found in the third movement are not identical,

however. Its first use, in the clarinet in m. 2–3, shows the same motive (Figure 3.12).

However, when the violin introduces it in m. 5–6, it is now a variation of the motive. The

rising i9 followed by the falling i10 remain, but now there is an added drop of a semitone before the next rising i9. This destroys the chain of semitones in the upper voices and turns it into a chain of whole steps. However, the line still sounds familiar because of the similar intervallic makeup, even though the motive is not quite the same and the pitches

(and set classes) used end up being vastly different.

Figure 3.12: Clarinet Quartet, third movement, mm. 1–6, variations on the D motive

Penderecki uses these few interval classes even when he is not using motives.

Indeed, by following the pattern of generally rising leaps of i3, i6, i9, and i11, and descending by any number of semitones, Penderecki’s melodies can meander while still sounding similar to what has come before. The polyphony between the clarinet and viola in the first movement demonstrate this: there are recognizable motives, like a string of

‘A’ motives in the clarinet, yet also unrecognizable figures that still sound similar to the motives (Figure 3.13). Thus, Penderecki varies the melodic content of this piece by slightly altering the actual motives while retaining an intervallic language that still creates a familiar sound world.

Figure 3.13: Clarinet Quartet, first movement, mm. 12–19.

Conclusion

Penderecki’s Quartet is a four-movement work that is best viewed as one large

movement. A few key motives are introduced in the first three movements and then

combined in the fourth movement, which acts as the cornerstone for the whole piece.

These motives are primarily based on the intervals i1, i3, and i9, and their octave

displacements. Indeed, Penderecki limits his intervallic vocabulary to these interval

classes, causing the entire piece to inhabit his unique sound without having to solely use

the motives themselves. Despite the non-traditional harmonic vocabulary used in

Penderecki’s compositions, the piece in many places implies key areas, and the pervading sense of minor keys contributes to the melancholy of the piece. 41

Chapter 4: Sextet

Background

Penderecki’s Sextet for Clarinet, Horn, String Trio, and Piano was written for a

commission by the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde [Society of Music Lovers] in Vienna.

It was premiered at the society’s hall, the Musikverein on June 7, 2000. When Dorota

Kryspin-Seifert interviewed Penderecki about the piece in late March of 2000,

Penderecki was just beginning to write the piece; therefore, it is safe to assume the

majority of the Sextet was written in March-May of 2000.80 Penderecki says in the

interview that the inspiration for the Sextet came directly from the Quartet, and that the

earliest ideas for the Sextet were for a second Quartet. So, even though the Sextet has the

same unique instrumentation as, for instance, the Dohnanyi Sextet, Penderecki claims that

his piece grew out of his previous chamber music works, and not a commission to write a piece for this specific instrumentation. However, one of the two recordings so far has paired the two pieces for obvious reasons.81

Penderecki also admits in Kryspin-Seifert’s interview that, as with many of his

pieces, he was writing with specific musicians in mind.82 Indeed, the introduction to the interview states that he waived his usual fee because he was writing for such close

80 Dorota Kryspin-Seifert, “Krzysztof Penderecki: Sextett,” Österreichische Musikzeitschrift 55, no. 5 (2000): 28–30.

81 Compare, for example, an earlier interview where Penderecki remarks that his next chamber work will be an Octet for Schubert’s unique instrumentation. “I have been asked to write it as Schubert’s Octet lasts for fifty minutes and the musicians need a second piece (with identical cast) in order to fill the programme.” As of this writing, such a piece has not yet been written. “The Seminar Meeting,” 126.

82 Kryspin-Seifert, 28. 42

friends.83 At the time of this interview in March of 2000, the ensemble was to consist of

Maxim Vengerov, Yuri Bashmet, Mstislav Rostropovich, Paul Meyer, Radovan

Vlatkovic, and Krystian Zimerman. However, the program for the concert notes that

Zimerman and Vengerov had withdrawn on short notice, and would be replaced by Julian

Rachlin and Dmitri Alexeev.84 The score published by Schott reflects this change and

lists Rachlin and Alexeev as part of the ensemble that premiered it.85 This is notable

because of Penderecki’s previously mentioned preference for writing with specific

musicians in mind. In this case the piece was never performed by the musicians envisioned by Penderecki.

A unique aspect of the Sextet is the extended horn solo from offstage (da lontano) in the second movement, from mm. 1–150. This was clearly an early idea in the compositional process, because Penderecki mentions this in his interview with Kryspin-

Seifert, even though he had not even determined the number of movements the piece would have at that point.86 The video of the premiere shows what a challenge this effect

is in a piece of chamber music.87 In the rehearsal segments of the documentary,

Vlatkovic has a conductor offstage to help him stay with the group. Even during the

concert, he stays where he can directly see the entire onstage group, and the group

appears to move more than usual, to give him visual cues to follow. The premiere

83 Ibid., 28.

84 The Musikverein-Concert Programs, “7 June 2000,” http://www.musikverein.at/konzerte/konzertProgramm.asp?idx=553 (accessed December 14, 2011).

85 Krzysztof Penderecki, Sextett für Klarinette, Horn, Streichtrio und Klavier (Mainz: Schott, 2001).

86 Kryspin-Seifert, 28.

87 Krzysztof Penderecki, “Sextet: World Premiere by Rostropovich and Friends.” Distributed by Reiner Moritz Associates, 2000. Online video file. http://www.classicaltv.com/v819/rostropovich-and- friends-pendereckis-sextet (accessed on December 14, 2011). 43

concert seemed to be warmly received and the group gave the first movement again as an

encore.

Even though it lasts thirty minutes, the Sextet is made up of just two movements:

a ten-minute Allegro moderato and a twenty-minute Larghetto. Each of these movements

is comprised of a series of musical episodes that initially seem to be unrelated. These

episodes vary in affect from slow and ethereal to chaotic and even humorous, causing the

listener to at first perceive a lack of overall structure. Yet despite this seemingly

schizophrenic character, there are still organizing parameters in the piece. Only a small

number of motives are used throughout the piece and most of them are based on interval

classes 1, 3, and 6. These intervals and motives cut across the episodic disjunctions to

serve as a unifying and formally organizing force in Penderecki’s Sextet.

Episodic Aspects

There are several aspects of the Sextet that cause it to sound episodic and disjointed. Key among them is Penderecki’s ever-changing texture and instrumentation.

Throughout the opening of the first movement the instruments are treated as separate families; indeed, there are less than ten tutti measures out of the first 97. The strings, piano, and winds are used as three distinct groups, with one or two groups playing at a time. Indeed, one of the biggest arrival points in the first movement (Allegro Molto, m.

97) is perceived as such not only because of its forceful driving nature, but also because of the entrance of all six instruments after nineteen measures of solo piano. Penderecki uses these sudden instrumentation changes throughout the movement to signal formal junctures and create the feeling of often-changing characters: new sections (mm. 283,

319, and 372) often emerge from a limited number of instruments into a sudden tutti. 44

This use of varying instrumentation holds true in the second movement as well.

The opening section (labeled R because of its ritornello function) features instruments playing the R theme in turn: first the solo viola, then the violin and cello, then all three strings, in strict unison, set off in alternation with the piano (See Figure 4.1). Because of this extended dialogue, the forceful entrance of the winds (m. 20) marks a clear formal juncture.

In addition to alternating instrumentation, Penderecki also varies the texture, whether he is using a single melody with accompaniment or writing polyphony. For instance, the opening melody of the first movement is almost immediately played against itself in inversion (Figure 4.2). At other times Penderecki uses polyphony to simply create a mass of sound, having each instrument act independently and often employing cross-rhythms to essentially create chaos (Figure 4.3).

Figure 4.1 (continued)

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Figure 4.2: Sextet, first movement, mm. 10–15, 24–32, the initial melody and its inversion in violin and clarinet

a) Clarinet, mm. 10–15:

b) Clarinet and violin, mm. 24–30:

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Figure 4.3: Sextet, first movement, mm. 73–74, one of many chaotic passages

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One final way in which Penderecki makes the piece feel unsettled is with his use of different characters in each episode. The piece often switches from mood to mood quite rapidly by changing tempo, rhythmic motion, or by articulation and style directions.

For instance, the middle section of the first movement moves from driving eighth notes, marked upbow and pesante, (mm. 198–210) to a poco sostenuto with ethereal harmonics and a much different affect (m. 218). A scherzando (m. 230) and another sostenuto (m.

240) are followed by a bolero (m. 245), and later, after the recapitulation and more pesante eighths, a humorous capriccioso (m. 354). These rapid changes in character create a disorientation that belies the fact that the motives and harmonic palette are so closely unified. Even the stasis of the slow second movement is broken up by occasional periods of chaos. Indeed, the lack of such a chaotic episode between the Adagio (m. 200) and the final return of R (m. 249) helps create such a definitive stasis at the end.

Form

The form of the first movement can in some ways be seen as a loose version of sonata form (Figure 4.4). After an extended introduction, which presents several related motives, there is a clear transition to a section marked Allegro Molto (m. 97), which features several new melodic and rhythmic motives. Notably, this “expositional” section returns in m. 283 mostly intact: the motives reappear in the same order as before, and a few of the motives reappear in m. 372, in what could be seen as a coda. These facts point toward a standard sonata form movement. 50

There are several problematic features with a sonata form view, however. The section that should contain the development actually addresses the expositional material very infrequently. Indeed, a new motive is introduced in m. 158, which is returned to throughout the remainder movement. This motive, called ‘R’ in Figure 4.4, will later become one of the main motives in the second movement. Although the introduction of a new motive in the development is not unheard of, its appearance in m. 158 sets off a string of miniature episodes in the middle of the first movement, where the A/B motives from the introduction, the P/S motives from the “exposition” and the R motive itself are presented in alternation. The most significant of these sections is a “quasi bolero” (m.

245) that exclusively uses R material exclusively. Throughout this middle section these three motivic families are never used simultaneously, only in sections that are set off from one another. Further muddying the sonata form view, a “capriccioso” section appears after the recapitulation, adding humor into the movement and finally having the

A/B motives appear at the same time as the R motive, while still keeping them separate from the sonata form motives. Only in the Vivace section at m. 372 does the sonata form section finally combine with the other material. In all, the sonata form material actually takes up less than half of the measures in the movement. It is almost as if the sonata form material is interrupting the motivic development of the A/B and R motives, rather than the opposite. Indeed, even though the movement ends with a Vivace coda that includes the sonata material, it still reverts back to solely A material for the final 14 measures of the movement.

The form of the second movement is even more difficult to ascertain than the first

(See Figure 4.5). After an extended treatment of the R motive, a tranquillo section 52 provides the first episode. This descends into chaos that leads to a return of the R motive, causing one to speculate that the movement will consist of episodes in alternation with the ritornello R. This trend does not hold up, however. The ritornello only returns for one statement—two measures—after the second episode, and an extended tranquillo section reappears, which persists despite interruptions of the R motive and the chaos that previously derailed it. The ritornello motive does return a final time before the fourth episode, which is similar to the second, but after that a true R motive does not appear again until the end. Instead, there is a capriccioso section that again treats the R motive to humorous parodies, as in the first movement. This is followed by a lengthy Adagio episode in which the cello rhapsodizes on the horn motives and the S2 semitone motive from the first movement, and only then a return to the R motive which ends the piece.

Thus the second movement essentially has three types of episodes: a medium paced R section, a slower tranquillo affect, and a chaotic, animato episode. These are interrupted by a humorous capriccioso section before the cello emerges to treat both the tranquillo and larghetto sections to a slower and slower morendo over the last 80 measures of the movement.

Melodic motives

Penderecki uses numerous motives throughout the Sextet that seem distinct at first

glance. However, closer investigation reveals unifying features that make the motives

much more interrelated than first appears. This can be seen quite clearly in the opening

ninety-six measures. The clarinet melody in mm. 9–20 is made up of two motives that

are reworked throughout the section and are seen throughout the piece (Figure 4.6). One

of the most significant motives is labeled ‘A’, consisting of three (or more) unidirectional

semitones, either ascending or descending. Although the A motive first appears as

descending in m. 10, it is most often seen in its ascending form. As Figure 4.7 shows, the

motive can be simply repeated on the same pitches, creating a static pitch area, or the

initial pitches can move in the opposite direction from the motive, creating even larger

scale versions of the same motive.

The other important motive in the initial melody is the series of leaping minor

15ths in mm. 17–18. These bouncing leaps that return to the initial note are heard

throughout the piece, usually outlining jumps of interval class 3. Indeed, these are related

to the motive seen in m. 33 and labeled ‘B’ in Figure 4.10. As Figure 4.8 shows, much of the introductory section consists of material based on these two motives.

Figure 4.6: Sextet, first movement, mm. 10–19, with motives outlined

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Figure 4.7: Sextet, first movement, different uses of the A motive

a) A as static pitches, m. 256:

b) A moving downward, m. 71:

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Figure 4.8: Sextet, first movement, mm. 55–65, with motives marked

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In a broader sense, Motives A and B can also be seen to represent Penderecki’s two main interval classes at their most basic. Motive A, associated with ic 1, usually comes in sets of cardinality three or higher, while Motive B, associated with ic 3, usually comes in sets of cardinality two or multiples thereof. Motive A’s rhythms are usually either equal (as in m. 10) or of two equal short notes plus a longer note, meaning the three notes sound as if they are equal until the final one is held longer (m. 59). Motive B’s rhythms tend to have unequal and dotted rhythms. Finally, Motive A is almost always seen as i1, not as larger leaps such as i11 or i13, whereas Motive B favors leaps of i9 or i15 over small leaps of i3. Although the motives themselves are varied throughout the piece, it is usually clear which of the two families of motives a certain instance is referencing. Indeed, Figure 4.9 shows how these motives can be used opposite of each other, with the melodies switching between the two motives within the space of a measure (mm. 31–43).

The motives of the sonata part of the first movement are less melodically derived than the motives from the introduction, but are more rhythmically distinct. As Figure

4.10 shows, the first two P motives are notable not for specific pitches, but for either driving sixteenth notes on a single pitch or repeated fast triplet figures. Only the motive in m. 122, marked P3, is back related; it has the semitone descent of A, the rising major sixths of B, and concludes with the A motive. The two S motives consist of either bouncing leaps of interval class 3, similar to the B motive, or, in the case of S2, two notes a semitone apart oscillating back and forth.

Figure 4.9: Sextet, first movement, mm. 31–42, alternation between A and B material

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Figure 4.10: Sextet, first movement, main motives

Motive A, m. 9:

Motive B, m. 32:

Motive P1, m. 97:

Motive P2, m. 106:

Motive P3, m. 122:

Figure 4.10 (continued)

Motives S1 and S2, m. 133:

Motive S3, m. 133:

Motive R, m. 249:

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The motive that is shared the most between the two movements, the R motive, is most often used in the second movement. However, the motive itself is constantly varied, making it difficult to point to a definitive example. The initial statement in the first movement (m. 249) shows many of the defining characteristics: a descending semitone, followed by two or more rising semitones at progressively lower pitches

(Figure 4.11). A second defining characteristic is a short-long rhythm of the semitones.

Beyond that, however, the motive is constantly changing. Although the example in m.

249 clearly outlines the A motive in the principal notes, this does not hold true for all appearances of the motive. For instance, the opening of the second movement has the sixth note a full tone below the fourth one, and the counterstatement returns the long notes to the A motive, but no longer uses a semitone between each of the dyads. At a minimum, however, the most basic form of the R motive seems to consist of at least the first four notes belonging to set class (0123), with the contour segment of <3201>.

Figure 4.11: Variations on the R motive

a) Violin, first movement, m. 249:

b) Viola, second movement, m. 1:

c) Violin (cello 8vb), second movement, m. 5:

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Although the second movement takes twice as long to perform as the first

movement, it makes use of much less melodic material. Besides the R motive, there are

only a few distinct motives. The horn introduces a motive in mm. 22–38 that is used in

two distinct ways (Figure 4.12). The motive, which consists of three large leaps in the

same direction (usually ascending), outlines a minor 9th with one note in the middle, before either resolving down to the octave (H2), or moving up to the second “scale degree” to prolong the melody (H1). Although the middle note is usually eight semitones above the first note, as in the first half of Figure 4.12, it is also sometimes appears as seven semitones above the first note, as it does in the second half of the example. This version of the H motive is especially powerful because of its sense of a resolved dissonance: in m. 98 it essentially outlines the root and fifth of a B major/minor chord.

Figure 4.12: Sextet, second movement, the two versions of the Horn motive

H1, Horn, m. 26 H2, horn, m. 98

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Besides the use of S2, the oscillating semitone, in the Adagio at m. 200, there are

few recurring motives in the rest of the movement. The extended horn section in Episode

3 makes liberal use of the H1 and H2 motives, but often melodically meanders. The

section around m. 99 is especially notable for its intervallic content. The horn melody 64 uses many perfect intervals and whole steps (!), creating a sound world that is unlike anything heard thus far. The extremely slow ending to the second movement is unified more by rhythmic ostinati than melodic motives like the first movement.

Intervallic Limits

One underlying way that Penderecki creates unity between seemingly unrelated episodes is through his limited intervallic palette. Not only do the A and B motives seem to represent interval classes 1 and 3, but as can be seen from the list of motives in Figure

3, the majority of Penderecki’s other melodies use mostly intervals from interval classes

1, 3, and to a lesser extent, 6. The few times that he does depart from these classes can be seen as incidental occurrences that are necessary to combine the main motives. For instance, the P3 motive seen in Figure 3 contains two descending i10s at the beginning, but these are side effects of having a string of ascending i9s (the B motive) descending by semitone. The i9s are clearly the more important intervals because of their rhythmic and registral emphasis on the upper notes. Similarly, the descending perfect fourth from the

C to the G merely sets up a semitone anacrusis to the A motive.

Penderecki’s melodies are not the only aspects of the piece to use these few interval classes. Indeed, the polyphony, the “chaos” sections, and most of the other parts of the piece also use these intervals exclusively. The few exceptions are worth noting: homophonic sections near the ends of movements or in the tranquillo of the second movement, where open intervals sometimes ring out, and the previously mentioned episode at m. 99 of the second movement, where the horn deviates into using other interval classes. 65

Rhythmic motives

Penderecki uses rhythmic cells as unifying features to pull together sections that

are melodically disparate. Sometimes these cells are used as motives, and sometimes

strung together as underlying ostinati. Many of the rhythmic motives in the first

movement were discussed previously. The two P motives are more rhythmically than

melodically defined. The initial one consists of four, eight, or more repeated sixteenth

notes on a single pitch, and the P2 motive consists of triplet sixteenth notes, often strung

together (see Figure 4.10). Similarly, the S3 motive of repeated pesante eighth notes in

3/8 time is more of a rhythmic motive than a melodic one.

There are other rhythmic figures, used as ostinati, that reappear throughout the

piece. The very opening of the piece begins with an ominous piano ostinato: repeated

Ab’s on every beat. Not only does this ostinato occur throughout the introduction, it also

reappears in other places in the movement. The eighth notes, now on F, are used as the

bass of the quasi un bolero section, except they are re-appropriated as a humorous

ostinato instead of an ominous one (Figure 4.13). This re-appropriation is especially humorous as the section continues and the ostinato begins to incorporate triplets also.

While this is quite a standard bolero rhythm, it is also a combination of the opening ostinato and the P2 motive. Both of these ostinati, seen previously in quite serious ways, are now combined in a humorous and completely different musical style. The original eighth note ostinato returns one final time in the coda (m. 402), back in its original, ominous form.

Figure 4.13: Sextet, first movement, the evolving eighth-note bass ostinato

Piano, mm. 1–5:

Piano left hand, mm. 256–259, 271–273:

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The use of ostinati is even more prevalent in the second movement. This slow,

discursive movement could be even more at risk of slowing into oblivion were it not for the occasional rhythmic ostinato to keep the pace moving, if still slowly. One rhythmic cell used throughout is the sixteenth-eighth-sixteenth first seen in m. 5. Even at this slow tempo, the rhythm helps propel the piece slightly forward. Interestingly, this motive does

not seem to have one specific purpose when it is used; it is often used near or along with

the R motive, but not exclusively. For instance, after being the first accompaniment

heard to the R motive, in m.5, it is used extensively underneath the H motives in the first

episode. Later uses (mm. 148, 239, and 262) tend to signify a return to R, or at least that

affect, but the ostinato is not always used quite in the same way.

Other ostinati in the movement are not used consistently throughout, but tend to

have a few similar characteristics (Figure 4.14). All are unobtrusive at such a slow tempo but they create a sense of rhythmic drive, either through dotted figures or syncopations.

They are all on a single repeated pitch, except for the ostinato in m. 112, which descends a whole step but always returns. Finally, these ostinati are used only in the slow sections where there is a need to keep at least some form of pulse. Although they are similar to the first movement ostinati in creating a sense of drive, the second movement figures are used only in slow sections, not in the fast chaotic sections that intermittently punctuate the second movement.

Figure 4.14: Sextet, second movement, recurring ostinati

mm. 5, 22, 148, 240, 262:

m. 112:

m. 200:

m. 222:

m. 249:

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Tonal Implications

As in the Clarinet Quartet, the Sextet has occasional periods in which there is a tonal center established by various means. These are most often established by the use of an ostinato or a pedal point. For instance, in the first movement, the opening section establishes Ab as a tonal center with the repeated eighth note ostinato; similarly, the P theme does the same with the repeated Ds of P1 and P2. Unlike the Quartet, however, most of the motives in the Sextet do not immediately lend themselves to tonal implications. It is almost as if between the two pieces Penderecki perfected the art of composing a more tonally ambiguous motive.

In both movements of the Sextet there are occasional tonal centers, but, as in most of Penderecki’s late music, they do not seem to play an organizing role in the formal structure. Rather, like the pitches that appear to momentarily pop out in a role of importance from his intervallic manipulations, the tonal centers move from one to the next in a seemingly random fashion. In the first movement, many of the motives do retain their initial key throughout the movement. The Introductory material often appears in Ab, as it is for the first 96 measures, and the “sonata form” material is in D in the

“exposition,” the “recapitulation,” and when it appears in the middle section at m. 165.

Beyond that, however, the episodes seem to take the tonal center of each part where they will. Contra Pierre Barbier, I do not find evidence for an “arch form” of Ab-D-E-D-Ab in the tonal outline of the movement.88 This view ignores significant sections of atonality

and more than momentary lapses into other keys, such as a well-established F minor in

the bolero section (mm. 245–283), and the tonally slippery capriccioso section in m. 354.

88 Pierre Barbier, Liner notes, Penderecki: Piano Sextet, Michel Lethiec, Prazák Quartet, Praga 250 202, 2005. 70

It also assigns the key of E to the entire middle section, which travels through many different keys as it goes between different motives, and never really establishes E at all.

At most, any tonal structure in the first movement is a byproduct of the formally organizing motives, and not a cause of formal organization. Similarly, the second movement establishes key centers for individual episodes, but they do not play an organizing role in the movement.

Comparisons with the Quartet

The Clarinet Quartet and Sextet share many similarities. Both are multi- movement works that use motives to unify the movements into a more coherent whole.

These motives are used across a variety of different tempi and characters, and are usually made up of the three interval classes seeing throughout both pieces: ic’s 1, 3, and 6. Both pieces show Penderecki’s life-long interest with unique and precise sounds. Neither the cello tuned down a pitch in the first movement of the Quartet nor the offstage horn in the

Sextet are avant-garde in the sense of his Threnody, yet both are somewhat novel for a

“standard” piece of chamber music. Finally, the pieces share a similar mood of melancholy.

1. Form

Although both of the pieces are sectional in form, the Sextet is more organized in

a traditional sense. Both pieces have motives that return in later sections of the

piece. But compared to the Quartet, the first movement of the Sextet is almost

classical in form: entire sections return in clearly recognizable orders and ways.

Both works are seemingly episodic but are unified by motives. In the Sextet these

episodes are contained within two mostly independent movements, while in the 71

Quartet the motives serve to unify the four “episodes” (movements) into a single

whole.

2. Motives/Invervals

There are several motives that are shared between the pieces. The oscillating

semitone is an obvious motive that Penderecki uses in both pieces to great effect.

The R motive, seen in the second movement of the Quartet, is used throughout

the Sextet. Indeed, it appears in the Quartet in the tranquillo section of the fourth

movement, a section that sounds strikingly similar to the tranquillo sections in the

second movement of the Sextet.

Even motives that are not identical between the pieces share striking

similarities. For instance, the B motive in the Sextet highlights the i9 leap. This

is similar to the A (i9) motive used in the Quartet (Figure 4.15). These

similarities arise from the fact that the pieces share the same limited interval

classes. Both pieces use ic’s 1, 3, and 6 for the vast majority of their melodic

intervals, only straying from them in unique sections: the tonal-sounding endings

of the first and fourth movements of the Quartet, and the beautiful horn episode in

the second movement of the Sextet.

Figure 4.15: Comparison of i9 motives

Clarinet Quartet: ‘A’ motive: Sextet: ‘B’ motive:

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3. General Affect/Impressions

The two pieces are similar in their overall impressions on the audience. Although

the Quartet is perhaps lighter in retrospect, it still ends with a weighty slow

movement that leaves a feeling of melancholy. The Sextet ends in a similar

manner, with a slow movement that takes up two-thirds of the entire piece.

Indeed, when the first and last movements of the Quartet are combined, they also

take up a similar proportion of that piece.

Both pieces also exhibit a predilection for the occasional light moment,

although the Sextet does this especially often. The middle movements of the 73

Quartet have been described as practically light “intermezzi” in between the slow

movements.89 The Sextet has episodes that are not only light, but even humorous.

One difference bears note: as mentioned in the Quartet chapter, the

Quartet’s movements have names that have historical implications to the listener,

and it avoids metronome markings. The Sextet does not name the movements,

instead using only Italian tempo words and also metronome markings. In this

regard the Quartet is unique and the Sextet fits in with almost all of Penderecki’s

other late works: only rarely does Penderecki give titles to movements.

Conclusions

The melodic and rhythmic motives that carry throughout Penderecki’s Sextet are unifying features that help define the form of the work. Despite seeming initially episodic, the piece uses a limited number of motives in a variety of different styles. The use of so few motives helps to keep the listener from being overwhelmed, and keeps the piece musically coherent despite its outward unruliness. Overall, the Quartet and Sextet are quite similar in their intervallic and motivic makeup, and in their surface-level use of episodes. However, the Sextet is a weightier piece, both in length and in musical statements.

89 Wolfram Schwinger, Liner Notes, Penderecki: Chamber Works, Eduard Brunner, Deutsches String Trio, CPO 999 730–2, 2000. 74

Chapter 5: Works of the “Synthesis” period

As Penderecki’s late period has continued there have been a variety of ideas put

forward about his new compositional style and the meaning of his term “synthesis.” This

chapter will discuss the compositional aspects that have remained the same throughout

Penderecki’s career, as well as those which are unique to his late period. Several of the

works written in the early 1990s, especially the Clarinet Quartet, mark a turning point in

his late “synthesis” period. This chapter will especially address three aspects analyzed in

the chapters on the Clarinet Quartet and Sextet: Form, Motives, and Intervals. Finally, it

will compare the two pieces to the rest of his late chamber works, and to his larger-scale late works.

The Idea of Synthesis

In a series of speeches published in 1998, Penderecki gives us a view of his thoughts on the role of the artist in society and on his idea of synthesis as a compositional idea.90 Penderecki no longer sees the development of music as a linear progression.

Having taken a step back from the avant-garde, he justifies his experimentation with older influences in several ways. For Penderecki, an artist’s development is best viewed as a labyrinth, not a straight line.91 As Tadeusz Zieliński writes, Penderecki creates

“music that is stylistically new (because it is his own) but rooted in certain past aesthetic

examples, especially those of late-Romanticism, and that is quite different to what other

90 Krzysztof Penderecki, Labyrinth of Time: Five Addresses for the End of the Century (Chapel Hill: Hinshaw Music, 1998).

91 Krzysztof Penderecki, “My Iliad and Odyssey,” Studies in Penderecki I (1998): 10.

composers are writing.”92 Zieliński argues that this turn to the past is what causes such discomfort in critics and other champions of the avant-garde.

Penderecki’s other justification for leaving the avant-garde is his idea that his compositional style is a form of synthesis of past developments. According to

Penderecki:

Each past age has left behind its own recognizable language. Bach or Mozart knew for whom they were writing, and knew that they would be understood. The contemporary artist, despite his longing for universality, is fragmented and alienated.93

In this view, Penderecki takes on the role of combining all of the developments of the

twentieth century into a coherent form, much as he argues that Mahler did at the turn of

the previous century.

So many new things have been discovered in the 20th century that now, at the end of the century, we need some kind of synthesis, some musical language which will allow us just to write music. We live in a decadent time, because in the arts there is absolutely nothing new happening. It's not a period of discovery. It's no longer possible to find something which will shock other people, because everything has already been done.94

This approach allows Penderecki to both justify his past compositional shifts, and also to

claim the mantle of reaching out to audiences. Indeed, approachability is one of his key

responses to accusations of leaving the avant-garde: in a 1977 interview he argued that he was writing for the present day, not for some imaginary future when the music might be accepted, as other composers were doing. 95

92 Zieliński, 30.

93 Penderecki, Labyrinth, 17.

94 Schwarz, “Firebrand,” 33.

95 Grzenkowicz, 14. 76

Overarching Penderecki Characteristics

Unsurprisingly, much has been written about the precise meaning of Penderecki’s

claims to “synthesis,” and his changing compositional styles. Is Penderecki really

accurate in claiming that the “wrapping” has changed, but the core values remain the

same?96 Scholars have found specific characteristics that they believe carry throughout his different style periods. Some have noted the dramaturgy related to the creation of tension and release in works from every period. Tomaszewski has called it “bordering on

the expressionistic,” while Strozewski has written that “Penderecki’s ouvre is an

immense musical realization of dialectics…stretched between extremes.”97 For Adrian

Thomas, overarching characteristics include a concentration on line, not harmony, a

forceful sound varied with a contemplative one, a confident but anxious attitude, and the

dialectic of the sacred and the profane.98 Indeed, the focus on lines and polyphony has

been noted by many scholars, including Jarzębska and Robinson.99 Robinson points out

other characteristics he finds in all periods:

1. Sonority: an interest in the colors of voices 2. Meter-tempo-rhythm devices 3. Free atonality, with a focus on i1 and i6 intervals 4. Clustered vertical events 5. Closed form focusing on the creation of tension and release 6. Extramusical aspects (until the end of the Cold War)100

96 “The Seminar Meeting,” 122.

97 Mieczysław Tomaszewski, “Listening to Penderecki,” Studies in Penderecki II (2003): 22, 25.

98 Adrian Thomas, Polish Music since Szymanowski (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 260.

99 Alicja Jarzębska, “Chaconne in memoria del Giovanni Paolo II and Penderecki's search for a universal musical language,” Musica Iagellonica 4 (2007), 179; Robinson, “Pilgrimage,” 45–47.

100 Robinson, “Pilgrimage,” 45–47.

Others see more differences, as his outward style has shifted over his career.

Chłopicka points out that many characteristics of Penderecki’s style have changed in her

view, including the sound material, interval structure, polyphonic texture, melodic and

harmonic structures, and metro-rhythmic structure.101 Chłopicka and Tomaszewski

agree, however, that his late “synthesis” is a combination of Penderecki’s earlier styles, as if he were drawing specific elements from each of his different compositional periods and pasting them together. In works like the Credo this might be true, because there are sonoristic sections and sound effects reminiscent of Penderecki’s avant-garde period.

However, this approach does not fit the absolute chamber music as well.

Jarzębska’s conception of Penderecki’s synthesis is different from Robinson’s and

Chłopicka’s: it has more to do with how Penderecki combines characteristics from previous eras of music history, not previous compositional periods in his career. For instance, Jarzębska finds influences of Baroque polyphony in Penderecki’s “simultaneous musical actions and variational repetition of pitch structures,” elements of Classical form, including proportionality in duration of segments, and recapitulativity and symmetry in arrangement of segments, and Romantic influences in the expressive melodies treated as a theme and modified.102 Although Jarzębska was writing about the Chaconne in memoria del Giovanni Paolo II (2005), this view of synthesis also fits with what is seen

in the Clarinet Quartet and Sextet. These pieces contain older forms and styles and do

not still use sonoristic elements, unlike some of Penderecki’s other later pieces. It is as if

this approach to synthesis views it as a melting pot, rather than a patchwork quilt. This

101 Chłopicka, “Phases,” 53.

102 Jarzębska, 181.

78 fits with Penderecki’s quote that “synthesis cannot depend on the mechanical connecting of elements, but must rather be a homogenous alloy resulting from a unifying experience.103

Form

Form has always been an integral part of Penderecki’s compositional style. Even the avant-garde pieces that relied on graphic notation were always painstakingly designed and the indeterminacy of pitches was allowed only within quite defined formal sections:

I never begin a piece without first planning it in every formal detail, juxtaposing various blocks which diverge from and converge to a central line which is the fundamental thread of my creativity. These blocks of thematic or sonic content are arranged in various sequences which interact on each other and play both a dominant and subsidiary role in my structural schemes…104

Indeed, at other times he has been even more explicit about his beliefs regarding the creation of new forms:

I think that new form cannot be created. A number of forms have been around since the beginnings of music—and all attempts at their destruction have been futile.105 and:

I reject the present fashionable blurring and disintegration of the structure of a work.106

This is not to say that Penderecki sticks to textbook examples of classical forms. On the contrary, Zieliński argues that “even though gestures like building tension, climaxes, and adagios seem neo-Romantic,” the large-scale forms Penderecki uses would be foreign to

103 Penderecki, Labyrinth, 17.

104 Ates Orga, “Krzysztof Penderecki,” Music and Musicians 22, no.3 (October, 1973): 40.

105 Tomaszewski, “Listening,” 24.

106 Penderecki, “Iliad,” 11. 79

Wagner.107 Similarly, Tomaszewski writes that Penderecki’s idea of universal form

merely means the use of general ideas like “refrain and reprise, modification and

development, stratification and stretto.”108

Many of Penderecki’s recent works have used a one-movement form, combining

disparate sections into a single movement. Ray Robinson argues that these works are

often formally organized around the creation of tension and release.109 For instance, the

Cello Concerto No. 2 (1982) is in a one movement form, like many of Penderecki’s later

works, and is bookended by an Andante at the beginning and a Lento at the end, just like

the Clarinet Quartet. Writing about the one-movement Violin Concerto No. 1 (1976–77),

Schwinger relates the piece to Bartók’s Third String Quartet, which also uses the

principle of “varied development,” although on a much smaller scale. Schwinger’s

description of “organic growth from motive to motive, developed out of a single cell,

constantly recalls Bartók’s technique of metamorphosis,” and indeed, this method could

describe many of Penderecki’s later works.110

Penderecki is certainly not the first composer to use one-movement forms. Allen

Winold points out that many earlier composers used one-movement or attacca forms, including Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto, and Beethoven’s String Quartet op. 131.111

Indeed, Penderecki himself has remarked that the similar concept of bringing back

themes from different movements at the end is seen in pieces like Beethoven’s Eroica or

107 Zieliński, 37.

108 Tomaszewski, Essays, 15.

109 Robinson, “Pilgrimage,” 46.

110 Schwinger, “Changes,” 76.

111 Allen Winold, “Violin Concerto No. 2: A Descriptive Analysis,” Studies in Penderecki I (1998): 85.

Dvorak’s Symphony #9.112 However, Penderecki is unique in using it in a majority of his

late-period pieces.

Despite these Romantic and Modernist influences, Penderecki also uses Baroque and Classical forms, fitting them into his one-movement syntheses. His predilection for polyphony extends to the use of fugues and other contrapuntal devices in many of his

works.113 Similarly, he uses such Classical ideas as sectional forms, scherzos, sonata

elements, and arch form in his String Trio, delineating formal junctures by tempo and

timbre as much as musical context.114 Regina Chłopicka has noted that Penderecki’s

music since the early 1990s has returned to the “balance” and “proportions” of classical

form. As in the Clarinet Quartet, the Flute Concerto (1992) takes the traditional fast-

slow-fast movement order and reverses it, bookending the piece with a pair of slow

movements. Both pieces also have sections of recitative contrasted against counterpoint

but still unified by motives.115 Similarly, Ehrlich points out that in the cello work Per

Slava (1986) each movement progresses from stability to tension, and she describes the

small dimensions of the piece as linked by motivic development, while the large

dimensions are “delineated by changes in tempo, articulation, and dynamic.”116 Both of

those descriptions would be apt for either of the clarinet works.

112 “The Seminar Meeting,” 120–21.

113 Jarzębska, 180.

114 Chłopicka, 60; Ray Robinson, “String Trio and Sinfonietta,” Studies in Penderecki I (1998): 101.

115 Anna Oberc, “Concerto per flauto ed orchestra da camera,” in The Music of Krzysztof Penderecki: poetics and reception, edited by Mieczysław Tomaszewski (Kraków: Akademia Muzyczna w Krakowie, 1996), 67.

116 Janina Ehrlich, “On Krzysztof Penderecki: with special emphasis on notation and style, an historical overview of the relationship between notation and style, Penderecki’s place in the avant garde, the origins of his works for solo cello, and, an analysis of the works for solo cello” (DMA diss., University of Iowa, 1995), 119. 81

There are many similar characteristics between the String Trio and the Clarinet

Quartet. Anna Oberc points out that the Trio also uses contrasting textures between repeated loud chords and quasi-improvisatory solos. Its vivo sections feature a constant

forward drive, a repetitiveness with uniform rhythm, and minor seconds. The slow

sections are characterized by “slow emergence” rather than true development.117 All of

these features can be seen in both of the clarinet works.

Motives

Motives are obviously an important part of Penderecki studies. Ehrlich argues

that Penderecki’s use of motives is important for three reasons:

1. By adding rhythmic elements, a composer can affect the forward motion of

the piece

2. Because of their identifiable profile, the redundancy created by motives

increases the composer’s control of the piece and affects the form

3. Motives lend themselves to contrapuntal manipulation.118

Jarzębska points out that Penderecki specifically varies the repetitiveness of motives by

changing octaves, instrumentation/tone, and articulation instructions.119

Several different commentators have pointed out that many of Penderecki’s solo

and chamber works from the mid-1990s are remarkably similar to the later parts of his

opera Ubu Rex (1990–91). Works influenced have included the String Trio, the Flute

117 Tomaszewski, Poetics, 58–59.

118 Ehrlich, 96–97.

119 Jarzębska, 184–85.

Concerto, and the Clarinet Quartet.120 To a certain extent, however, it is difficult to trace

which motives originated in which piece. This is not because Penderecki is completely unoriginal, but rather because his compositional and intervallic language is so restricted

that he almost can’t help but reuse motives. As Oberc writes,

In no way can we blame the composer for this repetitiveness. In this respect, Penderecki seems to model his music on the classics, who in their consecutive works always tried to retain at least certain harmonic links or the formal structure. The repetition of motives, even when it seems to verge on obsession, is an important step towards the development of the composer’s new musical language.121

Nevertheless, it is useful to catalogue shared motives among Penderecki’s late works.

As in the Clarinet Quartet, the String Trio’s two main motives are the oscillating

i1 and i3.122 Penderecki himself admits that certain viola “motions” in the quartet are

similar to the Symphony #4 (1989).123 Szwarcman points out that even the Seven Gates of

Jerusalem (1996) uses similar motives to the Clarinet Quartet, Flute Concerto,

Symphony #3 (1988–95), and the Sanctus from the Requiem (rev. 1993) so it is not always the smaller pieces stealing from an earlier larger piece.124 Similarly, Penderecki’s

Cello Divertimento (1994) shares many motives and movement names with the Clarinet

Quartet, to the extent that it sometimes seems to be almost a solo cello version of the

same piece.

120 Chłopicka, 60; Oberc, 67.

121 Oberc, 67.

122 Winold, 107.

123 “The Seminar Meeting,” 119.

124 Dorota Szwarcman, “Penderecki podsumowuje 3000 lat,” Ruch muzyczny 51, no. 4 (February 23, 1997): 8.

The Credo uses a plethora of motives that are similar to the Clarinet Quartet and

Sextet. The motive of a falling semitone dyad is seen throughout the work and has been

called the most important motive of the piece.125 One motive Penderecki uses throughout the Credo is the B-A-C-H motive used throughout history. While this motive, made up of two semitone dyads, is never used in the clarinet works, the Credo uses it in

counterpoint with a motive that is used in both: the R motive seen especially prominently

in the Sextet.126

Another motive used in the Credo is seen in the earlier Clarinet Quartet: that of

the b6-5-1 (refer to Figure 3.10). This motive is used even more prominently in the

Credo. Johnson notes that it is seen both melodically and in the bass line; in the context

of defining tonal centers, as chordal roots, or as a melodic motive independent of the

harmony. He even finds large-scale key-area progressions outlining this motive.127

Meder traces a large number of motives throughout the Credo, and finds several variations on what he calls the “arpeggio motive.”128 One of these variations is identical

to the motive from the Sextet I called H2 in Chapter 4 (Figure 4.12). Indeed, this motive

must not only be a prominent one in Penderecki’s mind, but one that is associated with

the horn specifically. In the Credo it appears as a horn duet between on-stage and off-

stage horns, and Meder also finds this motive in the Seven Gates of Jerusalem, again in a

125 Daniel Kramlich, “Compositional Issues in Setting the Credo Text: A Study of three recent works by Pärt, Kramlich, and Penderecki” (DMA diss., University of Houston, 2003), 92; Johnson, 152.

126 Meder, 80–81.

127 Johnson, 127.

128 Meder, 86.

horn duet, as well as in the Luzerner Fanfare (1998), and the Concerto Grosso for Three

Cellos (2000–2001).129

Intervals

Perhaps the real reason that Penderecki reuses motives so often is because of the

limited intervallic palette that he employs. As seen in both of the clarinet works,

Penderecki strongly favors the interval classes 1, 3, and 6. Indeed, most of the motives

found in all of Penderecki’s pieces are based on these three interval classes. Zieliński

argues that this is the primary difference between Penderecki and most other composers,

especially post-Wagnerians. Penderecki’s language is not strictly atonal or serial; rather, it uses the chromatic scale as its stepping off point, but allows a hierarchy of pitches that have a varied significance. Zieliński argues that this hierarchy is created not by a pitch’s

place in the scale or pitch collection, but is determined by the motives and where they

end up “landing.” In Zieliński’s view, the main motives are formed by leaps of a sixth,

whereas the semitone movements are not motives themselves, but rather simply basic

building blocks of melodic movement.130

Although interval classes 1 and 6 have always been present in Penderecki’s

works, it seems that the inclusion of ic 3 is a more recent, or at least a more sporadic development. For instance, Scott Murphy bases his entire “Model of Melodic

Expectation for some Neo-Romantic Music of Penderecki” on two basic premises, one of which he calls ic 1/6 concentration.131 This characteristic may have been true for the

129 Meder, 92, 115.

130 Zieliński, 36–37.

131 Scott Murphy, “A Model of Melodic Expectation for some Neo-Romantic music of Penderecki,” Perspectives of New Music 45, no. 1 (Winter 2007): 184–222. 85

neo-Romantic music of the 1970s, but it is no longer the case in Penderecki’s synthesis

period.

Penderecki does occasionally use other intervals. The Credo, for instance, is much more consonant than many of his instrumental works. Triads are used throughout the voice leading (necessarily involving an i4), and the i8 is also a key interval.132

Nevertheless, Adrian Thomas argues that ic’s 1, 3, and 6 “symbolise the essence of

Penderecki’s new harmonic and melodic language.”133

Other Compositional Characteristics Unique to the Synthesis Period

Besides form, motives, and intervals, there are a number of other compositional aspects of Penderecki’s later style period that have been noted by different scholars.

These include:

1. Reduction of means, a more intimate tone, and a general quietening

Especially in the chamber works of the 1990s, scholars have noted a different

character in the tone of Penderecki’s music. As discussed in his quote about the

Quartet in Chapter 3, he seems to have said a “Farewell” to consistently aggressive

music and become more introspective. Bylander has called the tone of these chamber

works “lighter,” but it is more personal also.134 Zieliński calls it an “economy of

sound,” and also notes the “moderation of the external gesture,” essentially backing

132 Randall Meder, “A study of Krzysztof Penderecki's Credo: How it exemplifies his compositional style at the end of the 20th century” (DMA diss., University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, 2006), 60; Ray Robinson, “Penderecki’s Credo in America,” Studies in Penderecki II (2003): 329.

133 Thomas, 242.

134 Bylander, Biobibliography, 11–12.

off from the neo-Romantic experiments.135 Chłopicka has called it a “reduction of

musical means,” as well as a “quietening” and noted the “personal (almost intimate)

lyrical tone.”136 Tomaszewski has perhaps put it best, using the adjectives “hushed,

intimate, introspective, melancholic, and nostalgic” to describe Penderecki’s chamber

music of the recent period.137 Indeed, Zieliński argues that the Clarinet Quartet

represents the peak of this limiting of means: the smallest chamber group, with the

quietest intentions.138 Tomaszewski describes the String Trio and Clarinet Quartet as

being the pinnacle of the economic use of means. He calls both pieces very

expressive and full of “reflection, lyricism, life, and beauty.”139 His similar

description of the Flute Concerto also uses adjectives applicable to the Clarinet

Quartet: classical, nostalgic, reflective, open, and airy.140 This characteristic, so

crucial to Penderecki’s late style, reaches its maturation with the Clarinet Quartet,

making this piece a turning point in his late style period.

2. More traditional pitch centers than in previous periods

These tonal areas are reinforced in a variety of ways. Penderecki’s recent music has a

predilection for pedal points that sometimes last for significant portions of the

movement: in the case of the Third Symphony, the entire first movement has an F

135 Zieliński, 39.

136 Chłopicka, 62.

137 Tomaszewski, Poetics, 68.

138 Zieliński, 38–39.

139 Tomaszewski, “Dialogues,” 28–29.

140 Tomaszewski, “Dialogues,” 28.

pedal point. Similar pedal points are also seen in the Clarinet Quartet and the Seven

Gates of Jerusalem.141 Penderecki also implies pitch centers through his use of open

fifths, as seen in the Sextet. Other pieces that use the open fifth, especially to end a

movement, include two movements of the Third Symphony, two movements of the

Seven Gates, the Luzerner Fanfare, and the end of the Concerto Grosso for Three

Cellos.142 Indeed, every movement of the Credo ends on an open fifth, except the

first and last movements, which end on triads.143 Ray Robinson argues that this use

of open fifths is used in alternation with sections favoring i1s, i11s and i13s is one of

the cornerstones to Penderecki’s late compositional style.144 Traditional harmonies

are especially prevalent in the Credo. In this piece Johnson finds modes and scales

used, as well as many nonfunctional triads and other tertian harmonies that seem to be

used much more than in his intervallically limited instrumental works. Johnson also

points out Penderecki’s favoring of Major/minor dualities, in juxtaposition and

simultaneously, something seen in the Quartet especially.145

3. Episodic aspects and texture alternation

Penderecki’s works often shift suddenly between episodes of quite different

character; this is not unique to the Sextet. Indeed, Penderecki has a few characteristic

141 Meder, 108–9.

142 Ibid., 109.

143 Kramlich, 98.

144 Robinson, “Pilgrimage,” 42.

145 Johnson, 129ff.

episodes that recur in several pieces. For instance, both the Quartet and Sextet have

capriccioso sections; similarly, the Credo has a march funebre like the Sextet.146

Adrian Thomas quotes Andrzej Chłopecki writing about this episodic nature of

Penderecki’s large-scale, one-movement works:

The carousel of main motives, melodic illustrations, harmonic progressions, rhythmic figures and textural shapes keeps turning in successive variants…in a bravura exchange of arguments and ripostes, statements and negations.147

Thomas speculates that the episodic nature of Penderecki’s works is precisely

because of his limited intervallic content

A major cause is that his pervasive melodic-harmonic language is so intervallically restrictive and plainly repetitive that no amount of rhythmic, articulatory or even contrapuntal variation, nor occasional textural or thematic cross-references, can shape the large span of a musical argument in a conventionally dramatic manner. Instead, this essentially lyrical music is reliant on its localised affectivity.148

Elsewhere, Thomas finds similarities between the Viola Concerto, String Trio, and

Clarinet Quartet, noting a “stiffening of rhythmic joints” in fast sections contrasted

with a flexibility in the slower sections.149

4. Perceived slowing down of time in the slow sections

Similar to the limiting of means, this is perhaps where the references to Schubert’s

later chamber music are most apparent. The musicologist Irene Mamczarz calls this

146 Meder, 74.

147 Thomas, 242.

148 Thomas, 242–43.

149 Thomas, 246.

“slowed-down time” and defines it as the “diminished number of musical events in a

given musical space.”150

5. Occasional uses of previous sonoristic elements

Some of Penderecki’s more recent synthesis works do still contain aspects of

Penderecki’s avant-garde experiments. For instance, the Credo contains glissandi,

suspensions of time, tone clusters, and graphic notation.151 The chamber works shy

away from these for a more absolute music feel; none of them has overtly sonoristic

elements.

6. The “Penderecki” chord

Although it is never completely present in the Quartet or Sextet, many of

Penderecki’s later works contain a signature chord, which contains a major/minor

triad with an added tritone (for example, C, Eb, E, F#, G). The Quartet and Sextet

only have the major/minor triad at most. When asked about this chord, Penderecki

confirmed it as one of his favorite sonorities.152 Adrian Thomas has an interesting

spin on this idea, noting that in several places there is a C# added below this chord,

making it two diminished triads spaced a semitone apart.153 Either way, this chord

contains an abundance of Penderecki’s favorite intervals. Indeed, the interval vector

for Thomas’ version of the chord (013467) confirms this: 324222. The interval

150 “The Seminar Meeting,” 123.

151 Johnson, 154.

152 “The Seminar Meeting,” 121.

153 Thomas, 242. 90

classes 1 and 3 are the two intervals with the most occurrences in the Penderecki

chord.

7. An interest in stage directions/overall presentation

Perhaps because of the dramatic nature of his works, Penderecki has always been

interested in the actual presentation of his works. This is seen in his works from all

periods. For instance, in the Credo there is a duet between an onstage horn and an

offstage horn, similar to the offstage horn in the Sextet. Similarly, the scores for the

St. Luke Passion and the Seven Gates of Jerusalem also require specific spatial

arrangements.154

Chamber Music in the Synthesis period

In recent years Penderecki has increased his chamber music output; indeed, most of his chamber music works have been written since 1980 (Figure 5.1). When asked,

Penderecki claims that chamber music is his favorite type of composition: “Every five or seven years I take a sabbatical, and write music that I really like, which is chamber music.”155 Elsewhere, he argues that chamber music is the pinnacle of his synthesis style.

Today…I seek my artistic ideal in claritas. I am returning to chamber music, for I realize that more can be said in a hushed voice condensed in the sound of three or four instruments. That escape into musical privacy is its own sort of answer to our fin de siècle.156

154 Meder, 14.

155 Dubinsky, “Penderecki at the Beinecke Library.”

156 Penderecki, Labyrinth, 18.

Indeed, Penderecki has even said that chamber music is the true test of a composer, the genre on which to judge all composers: “If one has nothing to say, you can hear it [in chamber music].”157

Figure 5.1: Chamber Music works since 1985158

Per Slava, cello, 1985–86, 6’ Prelude for Clarinet, 1987, 2’ Der Unterbrochene Gedanke, string quartet, 1988, 3’ String Trio, 1990–91, 12’ Quartet for Clarinet and String Trio, 1993, 20’ Divertimento for Cello Solo, 1994, 12’ Sonata for Violin and Piano No. 2, 1999, 35’ Sextet, clarinet, horn, string trio, and piano, 2000, 30’ Sarabande, viola, 2000, 3’ Serenata, three cellos, 2007, 4’ String Quartet No. 3, 2008, 15’ Tanz, violin, 2009, 2’ Suite, cello, 1994–2010, 18’ Duo Concertante, violin and double bass, 2010, 6’ Violincello totale, solo cello, 2011, 6’

As Figure 5.1 shows, Penderecki’s chamber works vary in scope and length from quite brief to long works. Of these, the Clarinet Quartet, Violin Sonata No. 2, Sextet, and

String Quartet No. 3 are the most significant, although the String Trio also was an important forerunner to these lengthy works. Many of the other works are brief character pieces, in line with the Capriccios for solo instruments that Penderecki composed at earlier times in his career. The Divertimento for Cello Solo is lengthier, but is almost an

157 Kryspin-Seifert, 30.

158 Bylander, Biobibliography, 284–85; “Krzysztof Penderecki,” http://www.schott- music.com/shop/persons/featured/krzysztof-penderecki/index.html, accessed 1/26/2012.

arrangement of the Clarinet Quartet. Its four similar movements share each of the main

motives and ideas of the comparable Quartet movements.

The String Trio and the Clarinet Quartet share many characteristics. They are the

first two major chamber music pieces in the decades since Penderecki’s first two String

Quartets, during his avant-garde period. Allmuth Behrendt notes the similar

“architectural and dramaturgical” concepts in both pieces.159 The String Trio is in two

movements, but they are marked attacca, like the latter three movements of the Clarinet

Quartet. The two pieces also share specific motivic ideas: for instance, the repeated aggressive pesante chords seen at the climax of the second movement of the Clarinet

Quartet. Indeed, except for the addition of the clarinet, both pieces sound strikingly

similar.

The Violin Sonata No. 2 is unique for several reasons. Despite Penderecki’s

previously stated hatred of the piano and other equal tempered instruments and his

avowal never to use them, this was his first real foray into a work involving the

instrument, and he later composed a Piano Concerto in 2002.160 This lengthy Sonata

retains several of the hallmarks of Penderecki’s late works. It is in five movements,

although several of them are linked together, and is in an arch form, bookended by two

slow movements. It is also episodic, with traditional forms and allusions popping up,

such as a scherzo.161

159 Behrendt, 115.

160 Ray Robinson, “Krzysztof Penderecki: An Interview and an Analysis of Stabat Mater,” Choral Journal 38, no. 10 (May 1998), 10.

161 Richard Whitehouse, Liner Notes, Penderecki: Violin Sonatas Nos. 1 and 2, Ida Beiler, Nina Tichman, Naxos 8.557253, 2004.

Compared to all the rest of the chamber music works, the Sextet is clearly the most significant in length, forces used, and statements made. In 2003 Tomaszewski called it the “apogee” thus far of Penderecki’s chamber works.162 Its two movements are weighty enough to stand on their own, yet are linked as noted in Chapter 4.

The String Quartet No. 3 is in a single-movement form, yet is similar to the previous pieces in its use of differing character episodes within the movement. Indeed, its subtitle, “Pages from an Unwritten Diary,” could easily describe the episodic nature of many of Penderecki’s chamber works. The episodes used are also similar to the Sextet and other works: a gloomy section, a “virtuoso Vivace, a waltz of wonderful panache, a moving nocturne and a stunning gypsy melody.”163

Taken together these four (or five) significant chamber works are seemingly one and the same. Except for differences in instrumentation, they share many of the late period’s compositional characteristics, and sometimes even seem to be cut from the same cloth. Yet taken individually, the two clarinet works stand out, both for their unique instrumentation and for their profound emotional statements.

Major Pieces of the Synthesis Period

Penderecki has always been a prolific composer in a variety of genres, and the late period has been no exception (Figure 5.2). There is a tendency in Penderecki studies to group smaller chamber works and concertos with nearby larger works. This might be because Penderecki often reuses motives and other compositional aspects between several works written within a few years of each other. Thus, for instance, the Second

162 Tomaszewski, Essays, 104.

163 Jeż, liner notes to DUX 0770.

Cello Concerto (1982) and the Symphony #2 (1979–80) are associated with the opera

Paradise Lost (1978); the Symphony #3 (mostly written in the 1980s) is associated with

the opera The Black Mask (1984–1986); and the String Trio (1990–1991) and Clarinet

Quartet (1993) are associated with the opera Ubu Rex (1991). Adrian Thomas argues that assigning absolute music works to nearby dramatic works happens more often in Poland than elsewhere, because of Polish critics’ tendency to ascribe programs to concert music

(Penderecki has said the same).164 However, these arguments are not just because of

programs, but also because motives and other compositional aspects are shared between

the pieces themselves. Oberc has pointed out that the Clarinet Quartet and String Trio sound remarkably similar to certain parts of Ubu Rex.165 Meder points out other works

from the late 1990s that are similar to the Credo (1998); these include the Symphony #3

(1988–1995), Seven Gates of Jerusalem (1996), Serenade for String Orchestra (1997),

Luzerner Fanfare (1998), and the Concerto Grosso for Three Cellos and Orchestra

(2000).166

164 Thomas, 248–49; “The Seminar Meeting,” 122.

165 Oberc, 67.

166 Meder, 107.

Figure 5.2: Selected Major Works since 1985167

Operas: The Black Mask, 1986 Ubu Rex, 1991

Choral Works: Sanctus, 1993 Agnus Dei, 1995 Seven Gates of Jerusalem (Symphony No. 7), 1996 Credo, 1998 Lieder der Vergänglichkeit (Symphony No. 8), 2005

Concerti: Concerto for Flute, 1992 Concerto for Violin No 2, “Metamorphoses,” 1995 Concerto Grosso for Three Cellos, 2000 Concerto for Piano, 2002 Concerto for Horn, 2008 Numerous arrangements and transcriptions of these works and others for different instrumentations.

Symphonic Works: Symphony No. 4, “Adagio,” 1989 Symphony No. 5, “Korean,” 1992 Symphony No. 3, 1988–1995 Symphony No. 6, 2003

Placing Clarinet/Chamber Works in context of Penderecki’s Late Period

As Figure 5.2 shows, Penderecki has remained prolific in a wide variety of

genres. However, he has always written large scale, dramatic works, since the 1960s. In

fact, Tomaszewski (in 2003) argues that the number of large-scale works that Penderecki is writing is actually decreasing, as the number of chamber works increases.168 In this

view, Penderecki’s compositional style is still on a track towards more limited means

than before, but with a few notable exceptions: the Seven Gates and the Credo (surely

167 Bylander, Biobibliography, 284–85; “Krzysztof Penderecki,” http://www.schott- music.com/shop/persons/featured/krzysztof-penderecki/index.html, accessed 1/26/2012.

168 Tomaszewski, Essays, 101. 96

one must include the massive choral Symphony No. 8 in that list now). Tomaszewski

argues that the Violin Sonata No. 2, the Sextet, and the Concerto Grosso all continue the trend started by the Clarinet Quartet and String Trio.

There are other differences between the chamber works and the large works as well. Even though many of the intervallic and motivic relationships seen in the chamber works are seen in the large ones, it appears that Penderecki has one style of writing for instruments and another for choirs. For instance, both the Seven Gates and the Credo

have extended choral passages that involve choirs singing in parallel thirds; indeed, this is

one of the main motives identified by Meder in the Credo.169 Yet in the instrumental

works, vertical sonorities are never consonant intervals except for open fifths, and the

major third is virtually never employed.

Yet the large-scale works are not completely dissimilar to the chamber works. As

discussed above, they retain many of the same compositional characteristics like open

fifths, as well as motivic and intervallic consistencies. Rather, the trend of Penderecki’s

synthesis period points towards a limiting of means that is best shown in his chamber

music, making the Clarinet Quartet and Sextet two of the pieces most representative of

Penderecki’s late, mature style.

Conclusions

It is always difficult to place works in the context of a composer’s compositional

period that is ongoing. A piece can be important for being the first to show a new style,

for being the best example of a style, or for being popular within the repertoire by

audiences or performers. The Clarinet Quartet fits the first of these categories: it, along

169 Meder, 73. 97 with the String Trio, emerged near the beginning of the synthesis period, and was one of the first, best examples of Penderecki’s new trend towards lighter works using a more limited means. The Sextet has been called by some the greatest example of the period up to that point, in terms of duration and in terms of the statement it makes. Surely the

Violin Sonata No. 2, and the String Quartet No. 3 will also make their marks in the repertoire, being similar significant examples of Penderecki’s synthesis period in standard genres. These few chamber works show the compositional style of Penderecki’s late period at its most bare; they are case studies in the aspects of this synthesis style.

Although his large-scale works from the same time frame garner more critical and scholarly attention, the chamber works should not be ignored for their insight into his compositional approach.

Chapter 6: Conclusion

The purpose of this study was to examine Penderecki’s two chamber works involving clarinet as examples of his late compositional style. Despite having composed in a number of styles throughout his career, Penderecki’s compositional style has become quite unique in his late period. This “synthesis” style is unique for a number of features, the most important of which is his restricted use of interval classes 1, 3, and 6, which in turn informs the motives that bind his works together.

The Clarinet Quartet is a work that has already entered into the standard repertoire, and is sure to be heard in the future. Its four movements are drawn together by attacca markings, as well as unified by a few select motives that are all recapitulated in the lengthier fourth movement. Its discursive slow ending is a prime example of his melancholic slow movements, and the piece as a whole is a case study in Penderecki’s late style of limited means. The work is significant not only because it was one of the first pieces to showcase this style, but because of the importance Penderecki and scholars have attached to the piece. Penderecki’s remarks in the 1994 seminar transcript point to his viewing this piece as one of the first major works in his synthesis style: a “farewell” to his old, aggressive ways.

The Sextet has not yet achieved the acceptance that the Clarinet Quartet has. Not only is the ensemble even less common and the duration longer, but the piece itself is significantly harder to produce in terms of personal and ensemble virtuosity.

Nevertheless, it is a major work of Penderecki’s late period that deserves attention. 99

Both of these works are prime examples of many of the compositional aspects of

Penderecki’s late period. Although neither of them is one movement like many of his

works, both demonstrate how Penderecki’s use of motivic and intervallic content serves

to unify works regardless of their outer movement structure, or episodic appearance. His

use of a few select motives and intervals controls the form of his works and all other

ancillary features, including occasional tonal centers. This feature, observed in most of

Penderecki’s late period works, is seen clearly in two of his most significant chamber

works: the Clarinet Quartet and the Sextet.

Krzysztof Penderecki has found a compositional style that is unique, an

“independent, recognizable style of great power.”170 He has simultaneously managed to

create a style that is true to himself while remaining more audience-friendly than most late twentieth-century composers. Penderecki truly is “a composer both of his times and independent of his times.”171

170 Tomaszewski, “Dialogues,” 32.

171 Bylander, Biobibliography, 14. 100

Bibliography

Relating to Penderecki’s Clarinet Works:

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———. Quartett für Klarinette und Streichtrio (Mainz: Schott, 1993).

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———. “Sextet: World Premiere by Rostropovich and Friends.” Distributed by Reiner Moritz Associates, 2000. Online video file. http://www.classicaltv.com/v819/rostropovich-and-friends-pendereckis-sextet (accessed on December 14, 2011).

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101

———. Liner Notes. Penderecki: Chamber Works. Eduard Brunner, Deutsches String Trio. CPO 999 730–2. 2000.

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105

Appendix A: Discography Clarinet Quartet

1) Sony 66284 1995 RM Arts DVD 9328 2002 Sharon Kam, Christoph Poppen, Kim Kashkashian, Boris Pergamenschikov Both recordings are from the 11/23/1993 gala concert.

2) BIS CD-652 1994 Martin Fröst, Tale Quartet172

3) MDG 304 0917 1999 Ensemble Villa Musica

4) CPO 999 730–2 2000 Eduard Brunner, Deutsches String Trio

5) Boston BR1026 2001 Philadelphia Chamber Ensemble

6) Naxos 8.557052 2004 Michel Lethiec, Régis Pasquier, Bruno Pasquier, Arto Noras

7) Dux 0770 2010 Arkodiusz Adamski, Dafô String Quartet

Sinfonietta no. 2 (Clarinet Quartet arr. for string orchestra accompaniment) 8) Teldec 0630–13135–2 2000 Sharon Kam, Czech Philharmonic Orchestra

Arr. Saxophone Quartet 9) BIS CD–1153 2002 Rascher Saxophone Quartet

Sextet

1) classicaltv.com 2000 Live video of premiere Paul Meyer, Radovan Vlatkovic, Julian Rachlin, Yuri Bashmet, Mstislav Rostropovich, Dmitri Alexeev

172 Bylander’s Biobibliography also lists a tape of Martin Fröst performing the piece at the 1994 Warsaw Autumn Festival. It is unclear whether this recording has been released or is the same as the BIS recording. 106

2) Polish Music Information Centre CD 4 2003 Artur Pachlewski, Wieslaw Grochowski, Szymon Krzeszowiec, Lukasz Syrnicki, Piotr Janosik, Robert Marat

3) Naxos 8.557052 2004 Michel Lethiec, Markus Maskuniitty, Régis Pasquier, Bruno Pasquier, Arto Noras, Juhani Lagerspetz

4) Praga 250 202 2005 Michel Lethiec, Premysl Vojta, Sachiko Kayahara, Prazák Quartet

5) Fuga Libera 585 2010 Ensemble Kheops