Composition and Context in Twelve-note Music of Anton Webern

Composition and Context in Twelve-Note Music of Anton WebernAuthor(s): Christopher F. HastySource: Music Analysis, Vol. 7, No. 3 (Oct., 1988), pp. 281-312Published by: Blackwell PublishingStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/854084Accessed: 25/11/2009 07:52

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CHRISTOPHER F. HASTY

COMPOSITION AND CONTEXT IN TWELVE-NOTE MUSIC OF ANTON WEBERN

In attempting an analysis of any of Webern's twelve-note compositions, it would seem appropriate to proceed by identifying the various row forms and considering the relationships that arise from their combination. The vast majority of published analyses have employed this strategy, and with considerable justification. The series is strictly followed, and the display of row forms often results in striking temporal and registral symmetries. Webern, in writing on the structure of his music, clearly attaches fundamental importance to the series, the operations that relate serial forms, and the canonic procedures frequently used in the deployment of row forms.1 On purely methodological grounds, there is also considerable advantage to be gained from basing an analysis of this music on serial organization, for we can thereby account systematically for every pitch class of the composition. Without an appeal to the series we would be confronted, as we are in Webern's pre-serial, 'free' atonal music, with the more complex and less secure task of interpreting pitches according to contexts that are contingent upon a wealth of compositional detail. By regarding the row as the autonomous basis of musical structure, we are freed to a large extent from problems of segmentation and the vagaries of contextual analysis. And yet this simplification may be seen as an over-simplification which calls into question conventional analytic method and the structural autonomy of the row.

Although many crucial assumptions of prevailing analytic method have been accepted without criticism by theorists concerned with the expansion and refinement of systematic procedures for the analysis of pitch relations, the more general question concerning the function of the row and the relation of composition and pre-composition has long been a subject of controversy. This question may be stated as follows: In what sense is the row or the arrangement of row forms employed in the composition to be understood as a basis for the composition? In order to define the problem more sharply, it may be useful to propose a range of interpretations. In the weakest sense, a composition might be said to be based on the row were the row understood to provide an uninterpreted fund of pitch classes fashioned by the composer according to criteria that are not

MUSIC ANALYSIS 7: 3, 1988 281


determined by serial procedures, thus creating a musical structure which is not contingent upon the purported structural properties of the row. In the strongest sense, a composition might be said to be based on the row if it were maintained that the choice and presentation of row forms fully determine the musical structure as a whole. Now, it could be imagined that particular compositions might correspond to either of these extremes, making it impossible to draw any general conclusion regarding the function of the row. However, it seems implausible that either of these extreme situations could conceivably obtain. A systematic determination of the sequence of pitch classes, even if freely interpreted, can hardly leave the musical structure of the composition untouched. On the other hand, such a determination is open to limitless interpretations and may only in a very abstract and (as I shall later attempt to show) limited sense be said to determine the structure of the musical whole.

The assumption that serial procedures strongly determine musical structure is, I believe, implicit in most analyses of twelve-note compositions, particularly in analyses of Webern's music. For an explicit contradiction of this assumption we may turn to an article published thirty years ago in which Peter Stadlen (1958a), reflecting on Webern's Piano Vartations, presented a detailed criticism of twelve-note method. Taking a position closely corresponding to the weak sense of serial organization sketched above, Stadlen argued (to quote a second article which he wrote shortly afterwards to clarify his position) that 'serial manipulation - insofar as it is non-thematic - is meaningless and irrelevant. Since the effect of serial activity exists merely in the composer's imagination, his compositional freedom is de facto restored' (1958b: 68). 'Far from overdetermining composition - the charge usually levelled against the twelve- note system-it determines it so little as to be completely irrelevant' (1958a: 25). Stadlen nevertheless grants that 'all dodecaphonic works are bound to contain a number of decisions which the composer has taken not on aesthetic but on serial grounds' (:27). He then suggests that 'a certain indeterminacy of pitch in atonal thinking' allows the work a degree of immunity 'against the measure of serial irrelevancy it does, after all, contain' (:27).

Stadlen's essay elicited from Walter Piston (1958), Roberto Gerhard (1958) and Roger Sessions (1958) a predictably vehement defence of twelve-note technique. It should be noted that none of these composers argued for a 'strong' sense of serial determinacy. Sessions' position is representative of their opinion on this matter:

Once the initial choice has been made, the series will determine the composer's vocabulary; but once the vocabulary has been so determined, the larger questions of tonal organization remain. My own strong feeling is that, while these questions must certainly be answered in terms not alien to the nature of the series, it is not serialism as such that can ever be made to account for them. I do not mean at all that I am opposed in principle to the idea of basing the structure entirely on the series itself, as Webern and others have tried to do. What I am saying is that even in structures so based, the


COMPOSITION AND CONTEXT IN WEBERN'S TWELVE-NOTE MUSIC

acoustical effect seems to me to derive in the last analysis not from the manipulation of the series as such, but from the relationships between notes, as the composer has by these means set them up (:63).

Although it would be rewarding to review in detail the arguments of this debate, I shall here simply point out, as does Stadlen in his rebuttal, that his critics appear unwilling to address the central question of the row's precise structural significance, preferring, rather, to dismiss the question as irrelevant to the proper concerns of both composer and listener. For Gerhard and Sessions serial procedure is exclusively the business of the composer, who is in no way bound by the narrow perspective of the theorist:

To me, as a composer, the question of 'serial significance' is meaningless. Serial technique is a composer's technique. It appears that composers, from Schoenberg to Stravinsky, have found serial technique positively useful in the process by which a piece of music is made. If you are not a composer your enquiry into the 'significance' or 'audibility of serial manipulation' - from which so many pseudo-problems arise - is more than pointless.... In the artist's work, reason and poetic imagination may by chance have been made to fuse, at some high temperature; why should you wish to undo the compound? (Gerhard 1958:51)

There is an assumption running through all these essays that theory and analysis will necessarily be limited to the plane of twelve-tone technique. The dispute centres on an assignment of blame for the disparity, felt by all parties, between the musical result and what is taken to be the technique. From Stadlen's point of view, the position of the critic, compositional theory produces self-mystification on the part of the composer, who, 'insofar as he is engaged in manipulating the series, is not producing what he thinks he is' (1958a:26). Taking a more positive view of the composer's knowledge and intuition, Gerhard and Sessions insist that analytic theory, being restricted to the rationalization of technique and the datum of the series, can never hope to approach the creative freedom of the composer. It is not permitted to music theory that it may aspire to a determination of what the composer actually makes of the series:

[Stadlen] is reduced to weighing such 'evidence' as he has been able to gain from analysis of twelve-note music against the 'letter' of the rules, as he reads and understands them. In other words, his approach is bound to be one-sidedly theoretical and speculative. I should like to assure him that between theory and practice there is here an interval which mere analyzing- even if it were better informed and more accurate than his - cannot possibly hope to bridge. Analytical mind and creative imagination evidently work on different wavelengths. The vital information about the potentialities of the serial technique is not available except on the wave-length of creative



experience. (Gerhard 1958: 54)

Musical theory, which is by nature abstract, and music, by nature concrete, are incommensurable, and neither can be validated, or the reverse, by the other. (Sessions 1958: 58)

Attempting to draw some conclusion from what seemed a rather fruitless exchange, George Perle (1959) raised an issue crucial to such controversies in an essay appropriately entitled 'Theory and Practice in Twelve-Tone Music'. Perle perceived that the opportunity for a productive debate had been missed because of a failure to ground the dispute in a close and unbiased analysis of musical works. He concluded that the question of 'the relation between the set and the effective (audible) features of the music "based" upon it' is a question that cannot simply be dismissed, and that an adequate answer must proceed from an analysis of the music more sophisticated than the customary tracing of rows:

If there is a meaningful connexion between the assumed serial basis of the work and the apparently non-serial elements that one does 'detect and follow in audition,' then this implies the existence of certain assumptions that are not stated among the given postulates of set-structure. In this . . . case it is the responsibility of the analyst to attempt to describe these unstated assumptions and their relation to the given postulates. Anything less than this is an irrelevant activity on his own part (:60).

In the three decades that separate us from the Stadlen debate, analytic techniques have certainly become more sophisticated, but little light has been shed on the problematic relation of the series to the composition 'based' upon it. Indeed, among theorists the problem has been largely ignored. Since analytic method has followed compositional theory in concentrating attention on the structural properties of sets, it is not surprising that analysts have found twelve- note theory sufficient for the description of musical structure.2 And yet numerous statements from composers of twelve-note music, like those quoted above, point to a realm of musical creation that cannot be rationalized by the abstractions of current twelve-note theory. Certainly analysis can never exhaust the imrneasurable richness of its object. But even if 'analytic mind' and 'creative imagination' occupy separate planes, our attempts at mediation demand an openness to musical features 'that one does "detect and follow in audition"' - whether or not these features conform to our present understanding of serial procedures. In the hope of facilitating such a mediation, I shall present an approach to Webern's music that avoids the a przort of structural determination by the series. I seek an analytic method that begins from a position of neutrality regarding the structural function of the series, a point outside twelve-note theory that could allow us to test assumptions of conventional analysis and to discover the extent to which Webern's pre-compositional ordering of pitch classes determines musical structure. This undertaking will necessarily involve



a reassessment of the interpretation of pitch relations afforded by twelve-note theory.

Under serial interpretation the relation of pitches or pitch classes is detached or abstracted from other domains such as duration, accent, pulse, contour and timbre. This abstraction leads us to ask how these other features of the music are organized and how they might be related to the pitch-class structure. If an analysis of row forms has revealed the pitch structure of the work, we might then turn our attention to other domains, analysing each individually. Such an analytic approach corresponds in many respects to the position taken many years ago by proponents of total serialisation. The difficulty with this approach is that musical domains are not structurally independent; a change in one domain will not leave the structure of the others untouched. If the various features of the musical object are so inextricably related, how can we go about analysing the whole? Is there some Archimedian point from which we can order the whole of musical structure? In conventional analytic theory, pitch or pitch class has served as this privileged domain. And yet pitch-class relations per se offer us little insight into the totality of musical organization. Meticulously crafted details of duration, accent, contour and instrumentation can rarely be rationalized by the serial structure, and when they are treated by analysts, they are generally relegated to the 'musical surface' - a surface curiously detached from the serial 'background'.3 In view of the frequent lack of connection in Webern's music between the deployment of row forms and the articulations created by the interaction of all domains, such a surface would seem to function to conceal the true structure of the work.

Arguing for a different point of view, I shall present what I hope may prove to be a more productive approach to this music. Rather than regarding any domain as privileged, we may instead focus our attention on the result of the interaction of all domains, that is, on the more general issue of musical articulation or rhythm in the broadest sense of the term. From this perspective, the relations of pitches or durations can be interpreted according to the functions these relations perform in the creation of musical gesture and form. As will become apparent as we proceed, the description of form and structural function is problematic. In exchanging the simplicity of serial structure for an analysis of contextual structural formations, we are confronted with far greater complexity and ambiguity. In return we may hope to gain a better understanding of Webern's profound lyricism, a quality too often ignored in analysis.

I wish to make it clear from the outset that the questions I raise concerning the usefulness of twelve-note theory for the analysis of music have no bearing on the value of twelve-note theory as compositional theory. A central thesis of this essay is that our understanding of the twelve-note literature has been hindered by a confusion of compositional and analytic theory. I shall address these questions through a detailed examination of portions of two works: the opening phrase ofthe Quartet, Op.22 (1930), and the first section ofthe Op.30 Varzations for Orchestra (1940). The Quartet will provide the basis for a discussion of general methodological issues. With Op.30, I shall propose a larger-scale



analysis, incorporating the results of that discussion. The opening of Op.22, shown as Ex. 1, is composed of two row forms. In the

example, uncircled numerals indicate the pitches of the row labelled P1; encircled numerals indicate the pitches of Ill. Ill is a precise registral inversion of P1, and both row forms are segmented trichordally. Each pair of inversionally related trichords is presented in imitation; yet, because of rhythmic differences, the two row forms do not form a canon. Figure 1 tabulates for each row form the opposition of qualities: upper versus lower voice and dux versus comes. Within

Ex. 1

pJ'+_Itte

n t t c W or >

Fig. 1 Trichordal imitation:

P1 lower-Dux upper-Comes lower-Comes upper-Dux

> =S : I 1 1 upper-Comes lower-Dux upper-Dux lower-Comes

each row form, trichords exhaust the four combinations of these qualitative distsciions. This pattern greatly obscures the two row forms as percepiible constituents. If we wish to identify two voices in this passage, Ex. 2 presents a more compelling segmentation. Upper and lower voices mix trichords from both row forms and together suggest a bipartite division of the phrase. The point of division is marked by a repetition of instrumental groupings and a reversal of dux and comes. Each of the four units constitutes a different set class, only one of which (set class 5-1) is equivalent to an unordered set found as a linear segment of the row.4 Since these four units are the most obvious consiituents of the phrase - certainly more clearly audible than the two lines that are broken by the variable rhythm and changes of timbre - I shall begin by considering the rhythmic factors that connect or segregate these units. The groupings shown in Ex. 3 contradict the simple bipariite division and make the passage more fluid than the rather static symmetry of Ex. 2 might suggest. As Ex. 3 indicates, the first unit establishes a crotchet pulse. Unit 2 annihilates this pulse: beginliing on a perceptually strong beat and establishing a quaver pulse, it enters five semiquavers after the last constituent of unit 1, the pitch Eb . No


1 4 3 Pno. / & <\ PrioZ Pno. ?

4<1 t2f9b\("28 #;v8 + tD

A(S } 8 X ¢ + Pno C 9 p S E

l SZ4 5-8 w < 5-1 6-Z23

7-1 7-8-

(literal complements)

such discontinuity separates units 2 and 3. Unit 3 begins as a continuation of the quaver pulse of unit 2. Like units 1 and 2, units 3 and 4 are not connected by a pulse that interprets the semiquaver chronos protos. Note in support of this segmentation that units 1, 2 and 4 are articulated by beginningforte-piano; unit 3 begins piano. Another segmentation, shown in Ex. 3, points to a process of acceleration, which draws together the first three units. In unit 1, the violin imitates the saxophone at the distance of a crotchet, initiating the crotchet pulse. In unit 2, the delay is equal to a quaver, initiating a quaver pulse. This acceleration is continued in unit 3, where the delay is further reduced to a semiquaver. In the first part of unit 3 (=3a) the conflict between the duple grouping of each imitative voice and the semiquaver delay between the voices creates sufficient metrical ambiguity for the semiquaver to take on the character of an unmeasured pulse. This progressive compression of events is intensified by the effect of the previous segmentation. Thus, although unit 2 enters a semiquaver late in the pulse of unit 1, unit 3 enters directly, without a break in the pulse of unit 2. These observations lead us to the repeated F," in unit 3b. This figure, played by the clarinet, disrupts the impression of imitation and seems to function as a sort of punctuation, closing the first three units as a whole. Note that F," completes the chromatic and is the centre pitch of the (pre- compositional) inversional symmetry. Unit 4 is rhythmically detached from the first three units as a group.

Brian Fennelly (1966:307) has called this fourth unit 'cadential' - appropriately, in the sense that variations of the unit are used throughout the


Ex. 2

rwO VOKeS

2p.cs sharecl 2p.cs sharecl

Vl. Pno. Vl. Pno.

(11 l) upper-Comes (Pl) upper-Comes (11 l) upper-Dux (Pl) upper-Dux

(Pl) lower-Dux (Ill)lower-Dux (Pl) lower-Comes (Ill)lower-Comes Sax I Pno. Sax [ Pno.

2p.cs sharecl 2p.cs sharecl I

Unit l ' Unit 2 Unit 3 ' Unit 4 (Unit 5)


?(>)

rn

acocl.

c-at s a Asto vasst a l- it 4vi}7 ffi 8 btt'9(nf7 "@ 1 4Ci

Ji7 pp ,}97 P ' PP Ji7 _

l

+ 4; #J > t_/6^ AS-G A; G G / AS S rf Pno. ^ > Pno. I

p: X


Ex. 3

Pulse: J Delay: J

A(=>,

n Unit 5

Unit ] Unit 2 Units Sa .3h linit 4

l l l

1 3}s 6}s | s L _ _ _ _ J |

9 t X 7* J . X7 1 7*#2 : 0 4}s 5}s 7}s

movement to mark primary sections. And yet the figure here funciions also as an opening onto the following seciion. As both ending and beginning, unit 4 elides the two sections through pitch-class repetition. These connections are indicated in Ex. 4. Units 3a and 5 present the same rhythmic-contour pattern. This pattern is not shared by unit 4 but is used throughout the second section (bs 6- 15) as the accompaniment figure to the saxophone Hauptstimme. The connection of units 3a and 5 is obscured by differences in register, order and instrumentation. Unit 4 mediates these differences by preseniing the pitch classes of the dyads of 3a in the same temporal order and linking these pitch classes to unit 5 through identiiies of register and timbre.

Ex. 4

- p.c. order - register - timbre + rhythm, + contour (4C)

Unit 5 Unit 4

m

E- F

Vt + p.c. ordz -register -timbre

e«

E F [E

er - p.c. order + register + timbre

288 MUSIC ANALYSIS 7: 3, 1988

Unit 3a

Vl. ^ fiL;


The foregoing rhythmic analysis has been carried out, for the most part, without reference to pitch structure. I shall now consider briefly the difficult question of pitch relations, exploring problems of analysis posed by unit 1. Example 5a indicates some of the pitch-class sets that can be extracted from this unit. By pointing to these collections, I mean to show the variety of intervallic relations contained in this brief gesture. I should first explain what I wish to represent by these set-class labels. Rather than regarding these first six pitches as an arrangement of discrete, autonomous pitches or pitch classes, we may view each of these as a tone, that is to say, a pitch which has assumed specific intervallic qualities through its combination with other pitches. In this sense, set class is a tonal designation defined by the intervallic qualities of those pitch classes which compose the set. Thus to indicate the trichord 3-3 in violin (b.2) is to maintain that the second pitch D, for example, assumes the sonorous qualiiies of interval class 3 and interval class 1, or, more specifically in this instance, of a minor third above B and a minor ninth below Eb . If we say that the pitches of the violin form an instance of set class 3-3, there must be some sense in which we can exclude from this structure the whole step that Eb sounds above the first pitch of the piece, Db, or the tritone that the lowest pitch, A, forms with Eb . Thus, for example, if the pitch A were related to B, D and Eb in the same way that these three pitches are related to one another, we should no longer be justified in labelling the intervallic structure 3-3, since to do so would imply that the intervallic relations presented by all the thirty-five possible subsets of 6-Z4 could be undifferentiated in their relatedness. If this were the case, there would seem little point in identifying subsets or in regarding pitches as tones, for once all twelve pitch classes are introduced, intervallic quality would cease to be a distinctive feature: all pitch classes would have identical intervallic associations.

Ex. 5

a) 3-3 b) 2-3 2-3 1 1 2 3

, g r l > 1 2-3 l 1 2-3 l ^inc.

4 t£r . ]3 7 } t

3-3 s 1

5-3 1 3-3 l

1 4-Z15 1

I SZ4 ,

The assumption that the pitches in Ex. 5 are qualitatively differentiated as tones

MUSIC ANALYSIS 7 : 3, 198 8 289


by a variety of intervallic engagements raises two fundamental quesiions for analysis. First, how are such qualities determined? And, second, what formal or rhythmic funciion might they serve? In the case of properly 'tonal' music, these questions have, in general, been answered to the satisfaction of most musicians. Intervallic qualities determine scale degree and are interpreted by the fixed categories of consonance and dissonance. Complexes of such qualities participate in the creaiion of a variety of connections and articulations - the analytic objects we call cadences, prolongational lines, phrases, sections, etc.

In the case of post-tonal music, where there is not a fixed distinction of consonance and dissonance, intervallic qualities per se cannot determine tonal relations. We must therefore look to other domains for such a determination. In fact, all the sets listed in Ex. 5a are differentiated in various domains. For instance, the pitches that form the sonority labelled 3-7 at the beginning of b.2 (A, B and D) are associated temporally and registrally. Likewise, the instance of set class 3-7 formed by the first two pitches, Db and BW, and the last pitch, Eb, arises out of an association of register. The segmentation that is most obvious from the score presents us with two imitative components: the initial 3-3 trichords of the two row forms. Although several domains support this segmentation, there are factors that subvert the apparent symmetry. Note that the third pitch of each trichord (A and EW ) is isolated from the first two pitches both rhythmically and registrally. For this reason, the passage can easily be heard to comprise three parts establishing a crotchet pulse and containing, respectively, two notes, three notes and one note. This segmentation is marked above Ex. 5b. The second of these constituents, at the beginning of b.2, introduces a useful ambiguity. Here the saxophone's line, DW-BW-A, is challenged by the connection of the two dyads DW -BW and B-D. Qualities of register, interval and rhythmic pattern interact to associate this latter group of four pitches. The line DW-BW-B-D (set class 4-3) presents an ordering of intervals identical to a form of the first tetrachord of the row. As is shown at the end of Ex. 7 (unit 5), a clear reference to the first unit and the first explicit statement of the row's initial tetrachord appears at the beginning of the second section in the saxophone, which plays what may be described as a transposed retrograde inversion of this line: C# -E-F-D.

Returning to Ex. 5b (b.2), we see that the statement of set class 3-3 by the violin is clearer than that of the saxophone, since the connection of D and ES is not complicated by immediate voice crossing. With the entrance of EW, the trichordal imitation becomes apparent and the pitch A can be assimilated into this new structure. Thus EW closes the unit and at a single stroke elides the three parts as an overlapping of two parts. Nevertheless, if we can speak of elision here, our perception of the three-part structure is not annihiliated. Although the two-part structure is closed, the three-part structure remains open or incomplete, in the sense that the third event, the single pizzicato EW, is incommensurate with the first two events, each of which clearly exposes a dyad: the minor third. It is thus possible for the following pitch, C, shown in Ex. 6, to participate in an elision of units 1 and 2, if we can hear the continuation of the



initial pattern of thirds: DW -BW, B-D, EW -C. In this way, the unmeasured pause between the two units is filled with the energy of a delayed connection, the pitch C entering a semiquaver late in the crotchet pulse of unit 1. Note that the pitch- intervallic relations we have just considered are functional, that is to say, they play a role in determining the kinetic shape of the music. And yet these relations are themselves determined by the rhythmic interaction of many qualities other than pitch. Even a cursory examination of the first few bars of the Quartet may allow us to pursue the dialectic a bit further.

Ex. 6

Unit I Unit 2 sax. 6 vn a 1 7

4-3

s;J,J I v^0 1 iCw f l 4-3 (RI)

P: 1 2 I}: 1 2 3 4

Intervallic relations in this music are extraordinarily complex and subtle. These relations are highly sensitive to the structural effects of the other musical domains and seem capable of sustaining multiple interpretations. Thus I believe that a wide variety of intervallic interpretations, such as those shown in Ex. 5a, can coexist as latent possibilities to be brought into action or left unrealized as the piece unfolds. If the available sketches are evidence of Webern's working procedures, it can be assumed that once he had selected his pitch-class material, the composer gave meticulous attention to the function of all these domains in the creation of the actual musical structure. For example, in the sketches for a movement that was to have been included in Op.22, Webern arrived at a finished version of the first seven bars after more than a hundred changes involving every domain except pitch class (Smalley 1975). I suggest that such changes do not leave the qualities and functions of pitches as tones untouched and, consequently, that the initial ordering of pitch classes provides not an actual structure but rather innumerable structural possibilities. To show the openness of the pitch-class material to structural formation, I take the liberty, in Ex. 7a, of altering unit 3, changing the registers of two pitches and delaying the entrance of the second voice by a semiquaver. I have taken care in these recompositions, labelled 3X and 3Y, not to violate the pre-compositional registral symmetry of the two row forms. In Webern's third unit the instance of set class a 3 bears little resemblance to the thematic statement of 4-3 in unit 1. On the other hand, 3X makes this repetition explicit by exposing the two minor

MUSIC ANALYSIS 7:3, 1988 291


thirds (set class 2-3) Ak-F and G-E. Unit 3X also revives the registral segmentation, which exposes two forms of 3-7 - EW -AW -F in treble and A-G-E in bass - a segmentation of unit 1 that Webern did not choose to bring into play. Note that the correspondences of these trichords are related as ordered collections. In the upper voice, the second instance of 3-7, beginning on EW, is a retrograde inversion of the first instance in unit 1, which ends on EW . In the lower voice, the two forms of 3-7 are related by inversion. In 3Y I have changed the registers of all sour pitches. As a result, the trichords formed by registral connection with unit 2 are instances of set class 3-3, the set class of the two imitative components of unit 1. Unit 3Y presents a stronger intervallic connection to unit 1 than does 3X, since in unit 1 and in unit 3Y the pitches of set 4-3 are displayed in the same registral order. (A registral comparison of these tetrachords is given in Ex. 7b.)

Ex. 7 l l a) Unit 1 1 Unit2 1 Unit3x / \ Unit 5 I I Unit 3y

4-3 (2-3 + 2-3) 4-3 (2-3 + 2-3) 4 3 "-3 + 2-3)

X I , b -> '; hN - j

6-Z4 (3-7 + 3-7) 6-Z4 (3-7 + 3-7) 6-Z4 (3-3 + 3-3)

w (3-3 * 3-3) 23 2 Q 53 S

4-3 4-3 4-3 1

I hope to revive two earlier points with this experiment in recomposition, the first being that pitch relations are highly dependent upon the interaction of many domains; and the second, that such relations are not an end in themselves but are musically significant through the functions they perform in the creation of the work's rhythmictformal organization. Thus the changes I introduced in the hypothetical component 3Y produce many more connections with the preceding units but at the same time radically alter (for the worse, I think) the form of the music. For instance, in my version, unit 3 produces closure; it fails to continue the acceleration of pulse, and it weakens the articulation of the second section by anticipating the return of the thematic statement of set class 4- 3 in unit 5. Webern's unit 3 has quite a different function from mine: it is the focus of the introduction; but rather than being directed towards closure, it is directed towards the second section, providing the origin of the accompaniment to the saxophone Hauptstimme. In Ex. 4 I indicate the beginning of this development.

Because there seem to be fewer interpretations, the analysis of rhythmic



groupings we began with was less problematic than the analysis of pitch functions. If, as I have been arguing, the relations of pitches in this music are highly ambiguous and largely dependent upon rhythmic, contour and timbral structures, perhaps we should reconsider the value that analysis customarily ascribes to pitch. In the case of 'tonal' music, properly so called, we have found it possible and productive to centre our attention on pitch relations because such relations are closed, in the sense that intervallic qualities in themselves provide the context for the interpretation of pitches. Although other domains certainly contribute to this interpretation, the relative autonomy of consonant intervals and scale degree allows us to discover much about the structure of tonal music without requiring that we undertake an explicit analysis of such factors as contour, duration and timbre. These domains can to a large extent be taken for granted, since their interaction with the domains of pitch and interval is not likely to call forth a radical reinterpretation of tonal structure. In contrast, 'atonal' music presents an open field for the relation of pitches, in that there no longer exist inherent intervallic limitations restricting the combinations of pitches that may be heard together as a 'harmonic' unit. The emancipation of dissonance is at the same time an emancipation of consonance: the distinction of consonance and dissonance is removed from the domain of fixed intervallic relations and is no longer determined primarily within the intervallic domain. This new freedom given to the association of pitches demands that, in our attempt to understand pitch relations and the functions of these relations, we turn our attention to the interaction of all domains. This is not to say that pitch has become 'less important' and other domains 'more important', but simply to suggest that in analysis we can less afford to take the structure of these other domains for granted. In this connection, we may note that the first examples of the new style immediately exhibited a relatively high degree of rhythmic discontinuity in order to articulate an inherently ambiguous field of pitch relations or, conversely, to compensate for the loss of articulation previously made possible by the more autonomous harmonic-contrapuntal structures of major/minor tonality. Twelve-note technique does not, I believe, offer a substitute for tonality by presenting us with a closed world of intervallic relations. Certainly the intervallic properties of the row and of combinations of row forms will determine possibilities open to the composer, but these possibilities may be realized in a countless variety of musical structures.

Although the serial structure in itself does not shed much light on problems of form or pitchfunction in the opening of the first movement of Op . 22, there arises here comparatively little contradiction between the pre-compositional plan and compositional structure. However, there are numerous instances in Webern's music where sharp contradictions do arise, as, for example, in the second movement of op.22.5 I should like now to turn to one of these instances, the first twenty bars or what Webern called the 'theme' of his Vanations for Orchestra, Op.30. Since I am unable to understand how these bars as a whole could be regarded as the theme of a set of variations, I shall take the liberty of referring to this section as the first variation.6


49 4 o . __

f i3 f Ef

ffi = 160 ffi = 160 > \

(g r in i, \ m i p C - _ _ pp f C - \ e ff =

\ l. Ws >

}= 112

8 RIg @"2 o \e

+ \(Plo) wt e " f ' f ff e

@ \ Wo)

#- 2 j7

>r -,r \ tr Lf


Tracing the display of row forms, we can find a clearly pre-compositional symmetry which encompasses the first twenty bars. The four rows shown in Ex. 8, and labelled System I, are disposed in such a way that the first twenty-four pitches are mirrored in precise retrograde inversion by the remaining twenty- four pitches. This structure duplicates on a larger scale the retrograde inversional symmetry of the pitch classes of the row itself. It would be tempting to regard this perfect intervallic symmetry as the structural basis of the first variation. We might then see this section of the piece in binary form, with each half subdivided into two statements of the row. The three remaining row forms shown in Ex. 8, and labelled System II, do not fit into this symmetrical scheme and indeed introduce pitches in the 'wrong' registers, contradicting the registral symmetry of the pitches of System I. Neither do these three row forms themselves form a symmetrical structure. Acknowledging the disparity of these

Ex. 8

Pn

System I

System 11

number of voicz - - -

f

2 l es:

' W;- p - pp


two systems of rows, we may still maintain that System I constitutes the basic, governing structure, a sort of cantus firmus against which the pitches of System II are counterpointed as a subsidiary part. On the large scale, System II reinforces, albeit asymmetrically, the binary articulation of System I: the second row of System II, Iv, enters at the midpoint of System I. Binary articulation also seems to be supported by a pattern in texture (one versus two voices) resulting from the combination of the two systems, although, as we shall see below, a closer analysis of texture questions the structural significance of this pattern. As a description of the form of the passage, this analysis rests on the assumption that these row forms are articulated as musical constituents - that the simultaneous lines shown as Systems I and II survive their combination as relatively distinct entities and that each line is composed of successive groups of

Ex. 8 cont.

;= 112 # (i) W7 Rs ;= 160 ;= 112 g '

8- }J \ SSerm--

e \ e f v

ot )

p I \ f e

: @ \ I.0 e " }

1 ¢ ;} 8 :#J ;\ 7 f f i 3 1

2 2 1

P

_ PP *

I

PP bR PP



twelve pitches. Furthermore, the retrograde inversion in System I implies a chiastic correspondence of inversionally related pitches such that, for example, the fourth pitch, C, will bear a special relationship or in some way correspond to the fourth pitch from the end, F," .

It seems reasonable to ask of a structural description that it correspond in some way to our aural perception of the work. Although I think it unlikely that a listener could consciously register the row forms and relations shown in Ex. 8, it is conceivable that these relations are perceived subliminally and so inform our aural interpretation of the passage. If such subliminal perception does take place, we will not find direct evidence of it through introspection. However, I suggest that indirect evidence may be sought in the correspondence of serial structure to other features of the work that are more accessible to direct observation. If the serial structure were the basis of musical organization, we might expect this structure to be reflected in the articulations and relations that can be more immediately perceived. And yet Webern characteristically eschews such correspondence. In the case ofthe first variation of Op.30, three fairly clear phrases can be heard- phrases that do not correspond to the row structure. These phrases are marked, in Ex. 8, by solid lines. We may construe these phrases to be the product of mere surface features which function to elide row statements. The expression 'mere surface' is, of course, a form of denigration, implying a purely local effect which is subordinate to a deeper, more inclusive structure. And yet the perception of a phrase, I think, invariably indicates a coherent, inclusive organization and does not depend solely on immediate or local discontinuity.7 For instance, the immediate discontinuities of register, tempo, texture, timbre, etc. that mark the end of the first phrase and the beginning of the second are no greater than the discontinuities that occur within the first phrase, that is, between bs 3 and 4 (see Ex. 9). If these phrases can be

Ex. 9

g PHRASE 1 | PHRASE 1 PHRASE 2

;= 112 }= 160 ;= 160 ;= 112 bs b vi ; > 4 vn.#: >^

Vla. Tbn z< t X

X f - Ef - P -



+ lXo bo z | O o b.. - - 0 o {, . _ (4-3) 9 (4 3) '

S , 16 - ;, W. 1:) w @ ttl

RIg(Plo) e Ig(RI(X)

iwoso! W°°°!W°sb z 4 s b. z DE + , F be


regarded as primary structural units of the composition, an investigation into their constitution and their relation to one another commends itself as an obvious analytic approach. Before embarking on such an analysis, I shall return to the pre-compositional realm, which supplies the constituent elements of phrases.

In true Bauhaus spirit, Webern devises a limited number of modules based on a few elementary distinctions. The row shown in Ex. 10 contains only two interval classes formed by adjacent pitch classes: interval classes 1 and 3. The tetrachordal segmentation ofthe row yields two set classes: two forms of set class 4-3, related as ordered collections by the operation of retrograde inversion; and one form of 4-17, a retrograde inversion of itself. Excluding retrogrades, two row forms are employed producing six distinct tetrachordal collections, labelled A, B, C, D, E and F in Ex. 10. Although I believe there is reason to question the

Ex. 10

4-3 4- 17 4-3

Pg 1 3 1 1 3 1 3 1 1 3 1 R9 ^ s I S O a W

pc

pitch

pc

pitch

autonomy of row forms on perceptual grounds, these six tetrachords can often be heard as relatively clear constituents of the composition. Detached from the row, they can be regarded as being generated by a series of binary oppositions, shown in Fig. 2. Similarly, binarism pervades the construction of tetrachordal modules in the domains of rhythm and contour. Two alternating tempi are employed: ;>) = 160 and ;>) = 112. There are two basic, asymmetrical patterns of relative duration: long-long-short-long and long-short-long-long. Two general metrical patterns are distinguished: a syncopated figure and a dotted figure, associated with set classes 4-3 and 4-17 respectively (see Ex. 8, tetrachords A1 and B1). The vocabulary of contours is given in Fig. 3. From the elementary distinction down-up and up-down, Webern constructs four contour patterns.8 It is interesting to note that in order to differentiate the four related contour forms - prime, retrograde, inverse and retrograde inverse - Webern employs the minimum number of pitches and the minimum number of changes in direction: four pitches and one change of direction. Through the combination



Fig. 2

2 successive intervals: interval classes 1 and 3

/\ <-3-1)

1} I

A D C F

At At A ArD Dr C CrF Fr

4-17 (3-1-3)

(P= I)

B E

B Br E Er

lnversion

Transposltlon

Retrograde

Fig. 3

Contours:

I

p R

'

RI

of set class, contour and duration pattern, each of the twelve tetrachords of System I in Ex. 8 is given a unique form and can be associated with other tetrachords on the basis of a limited range of characteristics. There are two other pre-compositional decisions worth pointing out, both concerning register. In Ex. 11, the potentially symmetrical tetrachords are displayed asymmetrically in register.


I +


Ex. 11

a) not b) 3

[p S ' J ] L , L o a ]

b z >|_w1

A 1l(+ 126-J (A)

C) 3 notd) /

o &Q < p o 3 j ho °

,_, W v A 3(+ 12) D (A) Bs Ds (D) Bs Ds

e) (cf. (i) *, variation 2

rs

12 tj Sr I W} j (A) 13(+ 12) 13

(cf. (i) *)

This arrangement has an effect on segmentation within the tetrachord and on segmental associations between tetrachords. Were tetrachordal set class 4-3 displayed in the form of Ex. 1 lb, these units would break up into two dyads. As Exs. 1 lc and 1 ld illustrate, the registral asymmetry also helps to obscure the pitch-class invariants between tetrachords A and D (and likewise between tetrachords C and F). Webern also prevents articulation within the thematic tetrachords by employing registral interval 11 rather than 13. The interval 13 can function as a registrally expanded motion by semitone, creating the aural impression of a stepwise linear displacement. This effect can be clearly heard in Ex. 11e, where Db is displaced by C. By minimising internal segmentation, Webern strengthens the relative autonomy of the tetrachords and the two tetrachordal set classes. From these few examples it should be clear that Webern's constructivism extends far beyond the ordering of pitch classes. Like the choice of rows, such decisions do not generate structure but rather function to narrow the fseld of structural possibilities. What is made of these possibilities is the question I shall next address.

Phrase 1 is given in Ex. 12. The encircled letters A-F label the six tetrachord collections and numeric subscripts identify particular instances. Asterisks mark those instances that do not conform to the predominant registral ordering of the tetrachords 4-3 and 4-17. All six tetrachords appear in phrase 1, where I have marked five constituent units. The most extreme discontinuity in the phrase separates the first two units and functions in part to isolate the first tetrachord as a motto for the piece. Unit 2 is quite disruptive and, as we shall see, plays a generative role in the form of the entire first variation. In unit 2, tetrachords B1 and D1 are inextricably bound together. Grouping and rhythm are very ambiguous here and admit many possible interpretations. I shall discuss one of


+ itt * 8 ;#} S

8 f @* -. f ff

Cb rt Vla.solo Ibp Vlc r Y

S I X I f 1 @v W P

P PP I |

l l l l

l | l

l l

' t T l I t fl '

+ | bJ L: SJ 8 7 +ll 0 - +11 ,

r - 8 j r ^ -" 6d 3-3

Pslse: ( J ) rit. ( J ; accel n ; =

P f f --P Cb. Tbn. B.CI.

these possibilities. Below the repeated pitches B and D, one can hear a line moving in successive semiquavers: Bb, EW, GS, C,". The most prominent interval exposed here is interval class 5 - BS -ES and GS -CX . Interval class 5 does not appear among any of the pitches of units 1 or 3 . However, the contour of this line - up-up-down - is the contour of unit 3. The high points of these lines - GS in unit 2 and G in unit 3 - form a strong connection by semitone. The C# ending unit 2 may also be linked to unit 3, if we can hear a repetition in the line C," -F-E of a registral segmentation of unit 1, A-Db-C. This possibility is illustrated beneath the example. What I wish to show by these observations is that unit 2 is not connected to unit 1 but is connected to unit 3. Unit 1 is, of course, similar to unit 3: both are representatives of set class 4-3, and each is related to the other by the operation of retrograde inversion. But, although such transformational operations can for some purposes be useful abstractions, they often have a


Ex. 12

Unit I ¢ 7 ||| Unit 2 ^ i|| Unit 3 z | Unit 4 1 Unit 5

-pulse -pulse

ffi = 1128

6 ;= 160 Ob.3 i }= 1 Vl., _



dubious status in perceptual matters when complicated by contour, rhythm and context. Thus it is diff1cult to say in what perceptual sense the low Bb of unit 1 corresponds to the high G in unit 3. May we not hear, rather, a correspondence

l e l

in rhythm and contour between the last three notes of unit 1, BS -DS -C, and the il I

first three of unit 3, F-E-G? Or again, having heard the ascending minor third between the f1rst and last pitches of unit 1, A-C, will we then hear the connection in unit 3, F-Ab, as a retrograde inversion or as another rising minor third?

The complexities of intervallic relations aside, unit 3, although obviously a variation of unit 1, is by comparison intensified: it is a fifth higher, forte rather than piano, twice as fast as unit 1, and played by trombone rather than the comparatively diffuse contrabass. This intensification is a fitting response to the highly energetic unit 2. In fact unit 2 seems to provide an impetus for the development of the phrase by introducing a breach, which is progressively healed. In contrast to the changes of pulse and the fermati separating unit 1 from unit 2 and unit 2 from unit 3, units 3, 4 and 5 are united by a continuous quaver pulse. Unit 3 is connected to unit 4 by the whole tone G-A, continuing the line begun on Gb in unit 2. Tetrachord F1 is a transposed retrograde of C1. F1 and E1, while representatives of different set classes, have the same contour. Units 4 and 5 are most obviously joined by the rhythmic elision of E1 and its retrograde E2. In fact, there would be no reason to identify E2 as a separate unit were it not for its special functional relationships to units 1 and 3. E2 mediates opposing qualities A1 and C1 to close the phrase. Though of a different set class, E2 sounds very similar to C1, having the same contour, register and duration pattern. The most striking differences between A1 and C1 were dynamics (A piano; C forte),

speed (C moves twice as fast as A) and timbre (trombone opposed to contrabass). E2 returns to a dynamic of piano; it creates a ritard by introducing a triple grouping of quavers into the prevailing duple grouping; and, played by bass clarinet, E2 excellently mediates the timbral opposition of contrabass and trombone. Also, E2 returns to the middle C, sustained by fermata in A1, and at the end of the phrase the descending minor third ES -C answers the ascending third A-C in unit 1.

Unit 4, with which E2 is elided, is in many respects a simplification of unit 2, functioning to incorporate this gesture into the phrase. Unit 4 contains two imitative components differentiated by register and having the same contour and rhythmic pattern. Imitation might have been heard in unit 2 had the components not been so tangled. The two figures B1 and D1 have the same rhythmic pattern, delayed by a semiquaver, and are related in contour by retrograde inversion.

Phrase 2, given as Ex. 13, begins with tetrachord D. This is the first registrally canonical appearance of D (D1 in phrase 1 was aberrant in register). Except for register, D2 is strongly analogous to A1, which opened phrase 1 in contrabass. Although the three elided units of phrase 2 resemble the first three units of phrase 1 in gesture (inverting the total contour), the two phrases are in



Ex. 13

PHRASE 2

}= 112 (Unit 1) , > (Unit2) ( Unit 3) >

VnSolo 8 1> 1 *b=l6() S #S;; ;

\ w.w. ff (e

J-7 ) Cb Vcl. 4 str. F

* PHRASE 3 1-3 I palten: T " ^ W t 3 T t

2 _ **W (E)(4-3)

many respects highly dissimilar. By comparison phrase 2 is quite chaotic. Pulse is lost and constituents are not clearly articulated; other than D2, tetrachords break down through fragmentation and elision. The point of disintegration ironically takes place at the midpoint of pre-compositional symmetry. I shall offer a few comments about this particular disorder. In a new texture, D2 is accompanied by F2, which is registrally anomalous and split between two quite dissimilar instruments - harp and contrabass. Like unit 2 in phrase 1, D2 and F2 strongly project intervals foreign to the ruling tetrachord sonorities, here interval classes 5 and 6. F3 initiates a new irregularity: not only is register further distorted, but a new contour is introduced - up-down-up. This pattern is continued into B2. Because of this pattern, the rhythm and the repeated pitches, it is possible to hear a tetrachord beginning on F in the bass: F repeated-FX repeated as GS -ES -D (up-down-up). These pitches form an instance of set class 4-3 but, as it were, an accidental or false version of the set, otherwise represented as one of the collections A, D, C or F. The function of this connection is to detach from tetrachord B2 the final pitch, B. Webern's phrasing supports this hearing; notice the dot over D and the sforsando marking on B. The new form of 4-3, marked Z below the example, is used only once in this variation. The simultaneity E3 is also an anomaly. Since the high B continues its crescendo past this chord, its failure to punctuate the ending of the phrase leaves this music quite urgently open. There is one tetrachord of the six missing from this seciion: tetrachord A.

Phrase 3, shown in Ex. 14a, begins with a return oftetrachord A, now in tuba. As in phrase 2, the motto or theme is accompanied, in this case by a version of tetrachord D split between harp and viola. D3 revives the new contour of the


iD il

t

1


Ex. 14

I i I_ X

I C ._ dZ

I > .-

-

I X

l l I

.

+

cs

u)

51

-N

m) - @ R

¢ -

)X; 10

I



previous phrase and continues the intervallic pattern of tetrachord Z: up one semitone, down three, up eleven. Between the two tetrachords there is no instance of interval class 6, and the one instance of interval class 5 ishidden. The accompanying D3 now emerges in unit 2 as a prefiguration of the thematic statement D4, which in turn is accompanied by a verticalization of A (A3), adding the remaining brass to the tuba. Unit 3 revives a development begun in phrase 1, by presenting a clear two-voice imitation. Rhythm and the inversional pitch-class symmexcry of tetrachords B and E combine to produce a great variety of imitative connections. Thus B3 and E4 can be related by transposition, with the first and last intervals inverted, by retrograde inversion, or by the retrograde of three consecutive intervals. In Fig. 4 this figure is compared to the two earlier attempts at imitation in phrase 1. Strict (albeit complex) imitation is now made possible by the use of the same set class, 4-17. Particularly striking are the timbral references to phrase 1. B1 and B3 (oboe), E2 and E4 (bass clarinet) represent the only cases in this variation in which the same tetrachordal collection is performed by the same instrument, a feature further distinguished by the fact that solo oboe and solo bass clarinet are not used elsewhere in this variation. Note also that these four tetrachords appear in the same rhythm, a dotted figure which characterizes set class 4-17 (a figure 'mistakenly' taken up in phrase 1 by D1 in imitation of B1, and abrogated by E1 in imitation of F1). This rhythmic feature makes it possible to hear in unit 3 of phrase 3 a reference to the last segment of the open phrase 2 (B2-E3). Since unit 2 of phrase 3 is also quite clearly related to the last segment of phrase 2 (and, in a different way, to the first segment of phrase 2), to my ear this common lineage helps to connect units 2 and 3 in phrase 3.

Fig. 4 Imitative units:

Phrase 1 Phrase 3

Unit 2 Unit 4 & 5 Unit 3

4 17 Bl-Oboe 4-3 Fl-Vl. (unit5) | 4 17 B3-Oboe

4-3 *Dl-Vla. 4-1 7 El-Vcl.+E2-B.Cl. 4-1 7 E4-B.Cl.

. w

The above observations point to new complexities involved in our attempts to interpret phrase 3. If, as I believe to be the case, phrase 3 functions to close the first variation as a whole, it does this by reconciling or synthesizing previous musical developments. I suggested earlier, in connection with intervallic relations, that a variety of interpretations can coexist as latent possibilities to be



realized as larger contexts unfold. This hypothesis of structural formation, or the relation of part to whole, can be broadened to cover complex events such as phrase constituent (unit), phrase or phrase group. Chronologically later events- if they are to cohere with earlier events and thus avoid the appearance of 'one damned thing after another' - will carry an increasingly heavy contextual burden. There seem to be limits on how much music can be successfully held together, and I believe that the seven variations of Op.30, although often elegantly elided, represent such limits. I shall now consider some of the ways in which phrase 3 interprets, and is interpreted by, phrases 1 and 2, first by indicating individual correspondences and then by speculating on the synthesis of the section as a whole.

The first two units of phrase 3, though presenting different sets, can be heard as a compression and simplification of phrase 2 (units 1 and 3), omitting references to the disruptive middle segment. Similarities between these pairs of units can easily be ascertained by the reader. (Differences will be considered later, in connection with other structures.) Although the return to tetrachord A at the beginning of phrase 3 is an obvious invocation of phrase 1, units 2, 3 and 4 of phrase 3 also revive phrase 1 through their similarity to the first three units of that phrase. The connection of phrase 3, unit 3 and phrase 1, unit 2 has been discussed above (and indicated schematically in Fig. 4). The remaining correspondences are very strong: in virtually all respects - allowing the inversion of duration pattern and dynamics - in phrase 1, A1 (unit 1) is to C1 (unit 3) what, in phrase 3, D4 (unit 2) is to F4 (unit 4). Like units 1 and 3 of phrase 1, the corresponding units 2 and 4 of phrase 3 present sets of the same class (set class 6-1), displayed in the same registral ordering, and similarly exclude the interval of the tritone. Note, however, that timbral opposition in phrase 1 (contrabasses piano, trombone forte) is not a feature of phrase 3, which combines strings and brass (tutti violins and brass forte, solo violin and muted brass piano). The differences here are also significant. Unit 3 in phrase 3 is a clarification of the corresponding unit in phrase 1 and is now incorporated into the three-unit group, in part by register. As opposed to phrase 1, D4 and F4 in phrase 3 appear in the highest register - the register of phrase 2 (D2 and B2). D4 and F4 are also distinguished from their counterparts in phrase 1 (A1 and C1) by the accompaniment of lower punctuating chords (A3 and C3), again a development initiated in phrase 2.

The three-unit group that opens phrase 1 emerges as a central gesture of the variation.9 The schema - monophonic statement piano, disruptive polyphonic outburst forte, intensified monophonic statement forte - can be heard (with registers inverted) in the three elided units of phrase 2. Although phrase 2 repeats this gesture, phrase 2 does nothing to clarify or continue the structure of phrase 1. The juxtaposition of phrase 2 to the relatively closed phrase 1 is a rupture in the form. Phrase 3 in many ways heals this rupture and at the same time joins the three units into a continuous line, inverting the initial gesture of opening (crescendo, accelerando) into a gesture of repose (diminuendo, ritardando). (This last effect may account for the anomalous dynamic level of D4,


shown in Ex. 15 below.) At the risk of pressing the analogy beyond the realm of the audibly verifiable, I suggest that the three phrases reenact this initial gesture. Under this interpretation, phrase 3 would not only repeat the gesture but simultaneously reveal the whole. This conclusion may be made more plausible by a consideration of 'themaiic' sets.

The two tetrachordal set classes 4-3 and 4-17 appear to have somewhat different functions (see note 9). Set class 4-17, represented by B and E, seems involved in a progressive untangling of a two-voice counterpoint. (This is, of course, something of an oversimplification, since E2 also functions to close phrase 1, and B2 together with E3 funciions to open phrase 2 and to provoke a reaciion which will lead to the second variation.) Of the four representaiives of set class 4-3, clear prominence is given to tetrachords A and D, which are placed in opposition in phrases 1 and 2 and united in phrase 3. A summary of this structure is given in Fig. 5. In phrase 1, unit 2, comprising tetrachords B and D, is disruptive, even anarchic. (Remember, too, that D here is the only registrally anomalous tetrachord in the phrase.) The phrase closes, but without fully absorbing this figure; that is, elements of closure involve units 1, 3, 4 and 5. Phrase 2 may be construed as an outgrowth of unit 2 of phrase 1. It is highly disorganized except for the iniiial themaiic statement of D, and it is abandoned by way of a somewhat ambiguous statement of B. Phrase 3 organizes the disparate elements of phrase 2 and unites themaiic statements of A and D. Example 15 compares these four statements of A and D. In tlle highly restricted world Webern has created, tetrachords A and D in phrases 1 and 2 are, except for dynamics, maximally dissimilar. With phrase 3, the total configuration brings A and D into maximum similarity. Noiice that the only expression marks to appear in this variation are given to D in phrase 2 and A in phrase 3.

Fig. S

Var.I Var. II r--- Phrase 1 Phrase 2 Phrase 3 t

Ob. Vla. V1. W.W. |

A [B-D] D B A +D l (F) A D

s ' w ' (D)(A) l l > Vl.solo +

| Vl.solo Vl.II (con sord.) Cb. Vl.solo Tb. VI.tutti | C C B




Ex. 15 -Contour,-Tempo,-Interval Succession, + Dynamic,

-Pitch, -Duratifn Pattern.

Phrase 1 Phrase 2 Phrase 3

I J8= 160 J8= 112 })= 112 2)= 160

Vl.tutti

g I.es5op°#r. t 8 #

w ,i, @ e sehr zart ^

Cb.tutti ^

tr r t hr

j 11). solo i,:; ; ,!jf e P pP P '' WP

+ Contour, + Tempo, + Interval Succession, + Dynamic, + Texture (accompanied)

+ Contour, + Tempo, + Interval Succession, - Dynamic*

A'-A2:+ Pitch, + Duration Pattern (LLSL) D2 _ D3:+ Pitch, + Duration Pattern (LSLL)

*D4 of Phrase 3 and B2 of Phrase 2: + Contour + Duration of Pattern + Dynamic + Texture

In spite of the remarkable consolidation effected by phrase 3, the immediate sense of closure at the end of phrase 3 is considerably weaker than that produced by the last unit of phrase 1. Example 14a indicates the elision of the two sections through unit 4. The ascending pattern of minor thirds shown beneath the example, beginning in unit 3, seems to contribute to the sense of continuity and thus to participate in the elision. Consulting Ex. 14b, we see that this transitional device is closely related to one of the means by which closure was achieved in phrase 1. (In contrast to phrase 1 of Op.22, the registral axis of symmetry, here the pitch Eb, is obscured as a focal pitch.) As was intimated above, the transition into the second variation was initiated considerably earlier. In an entirely unexpected and masterful transformation, Webern has gradually turned the rather unpromising simultaneity at the end of phrase 2, a failed punctuation, into the accompaniment figure for the second variation. The connection of these three units matches the structural articulations we have observed above. It need be noted here only that the sonorities labelled 5-3 in Ex. 14a, below units 2 and 4, are strikingly similar in sound, both intervallically and timbrally, and thus help to direct us into the new section.

MUSIC ANALYSIS 7: 3, 198 8 307

RI

/\ 4-3 4-3

l l

s (g,f S 4-17

l 6-Z13 1

Plo: 9 10 1 1 12 P7: 1 2 3 4

Var.2, phrase 2 (bs 27-31 )

t ; _e

e f |- 1- rSl: j l t

f Pc¢ - P

(see also phrases 4, 6 and 8)

6 G X° C9#uU

1 6-Z13

Is: I 2 3 4 Rs,:4 5 fi 7

Var. 1, phrase 2

I Z I

I FS I

4 t#t(7) djfc

- l D l -

N } Ct,'N


Each variation presents a unique and highly imaginative structural idea. In the second variation, where each pitch of a tetrachord forms a different pentachord with the accompaniment, set class can replace contour and register as an ordering device. In this second variation, the continuously transposed pattern of overlapping row segments is not static, as the serial structure would suggest, but becomes gradually intensified, culminating in a climax in phrase 6. Again, nowhere does the articulation of a phrase correspond to the completion of a row form. Although the second variation does not continue the structural formations we have examined in the first section, it does develop and clarify the material that was least assimilated in the first variation - the middle of phrase 2 (Ex. 13). In Ex. 16, the first occurrence of a new composite linear pattern (bs 27- 31, following the restatement of A and D) is compared to phrase 2 of the first variation. As in phrase 2 of the first variation, in the second variation two RI- related forms of set class 4-3 are overlapped to form set class 6-Z13. The anomalous contour (up-down-up) introduced by phrase 2 in the first variation becomes a characteristic feature of the second variation. It is interesting to observe how in the second variation the three tetrachords of the row are collapsed into a single hexachord. Although this structure is embedded in the central hexachord (see Ex. 10), none of these instances of 6-Z 13 is constituted by order numbers 4-9 of a form of the row.

Ex. 16

Rl

/\- 4-3 4-3



The above analysis returns us - with greater insight, I hope - to questions of serial determinacy. Certainly the formation of the three-phrase period I have outlined above accomplishes a task of unification similar to that ascribed to the retrograde symmetry of System I (Ex. 8), even though the means differ radically. The correspondence of the last three units of phrase 3 to the first three units of phrase 1 is mirrored in the correspondence of the row forms RIs (phrase 3) and Ps (phrase 1), although many of the features we noted above can be seen to subvert the retrograde relationship. On the other hand, the coincidence in phrase 3 of two transpositionally related row forms, P1o (perhaps a more germane label here than RIs) and Ps, is crucial to many of the contextual structures presented by our analysis. Also conforming to that analysis and contradicting the retrograde inversional symmetry of System I are the two pitch retrogrades, Ps (A1, B1, C1)-R9 (C2, B2, A2) and Is (F1, E2,D2)-RIg (D4, E4, F4). The pitch retrogrades might have been made more palpable had the duration patterns also been reversed, as happens, for example, in the retrograde of E1 (long-long-short-long) by E2 (long-short-long-long). These row correspondences, although cutting across phrase boundaries, nevertheless associate the thematic tetrachords A1 and A2 with D2 and D4, and in several other ways conform to results of our contextual analysis. One may argue that a determination of the row structure precedes, and thus forms the basis of, later refinements. To argue in this way, however, is to confuse the chronology of composition with the creation of the musical whole, for, as I have tried to show above, the row structure itself becomes determined only through the composing-out of a few of the possibilities contained in the series. This dialectic of determined and determining leads us to ask again with Gerhard (1958): If, 'in the artist's work, reason and poetic imagination may . . . have been made to fuse at some high temperature, why should [we] wish to undo the compound?'

I have concentrated on the contextual at the expense of the 'pre- compositional' in part because I want to redress what I view as an imbalance in the analysis of Webern's music, and in part because I regard contextual relations such as those traced above as a fusion of plan and execution, blurring the distinction of 'reason and poetic imagination'. In conclusion, I suggest that an examination of row forms abstracted from context offers us little insight into the form of Webern's music and obscures many of the analytic and aesthetic questions posed by this music. Webern's structural resources, both in plan and in execution, extend far beyond the ordering of pitch classes to encompass a variety of mutually conditioned musical domains. We may concur with Sessions's judgment (1958) that 'the larger question of tonal organization . . . must certainly be answered in terms not alien to the nature of the series', provided we also grant that it is the nature of the series to be open to limitless interpretation. From this perspective, the disposition of row forms isolated from the totality of musical domains may be seen as a largely undetermined matrix of structural possibilities and, as such, can be reified only at the cost of severely limiting our understanding of twelve-note music.

MUSIC ANALYSIS 7: 3, 198 8 309


NOTES

1. For a detailed and highly illuminating examination of Webern's understanding of the nature of the row, see Barbara Zuber (1984). In this essay Zuber undertakes a close analysis of Webern's writings in the context of his reading of Goethe and Plato.

2. There are, of course, some notable exceptions. Adorno frequently criticised in very general terms the tendency to reify twelve-note technique. Among analysts of Webern's music Jonathan Kramer and Arnold Whittall have called into question the structural hegemony of the series by drawing attention to the disparity in Webern's canonic writing between the intervallic structure of the row and that of the resulting simultaneities (Kramer 1971; Whittall 1987).

3. While Webern's music is rarely treated with such sophistication, there are many recent analytic studies of Schoenberg's twelve-note music that take into account a variety of complex serial procedures, coordinating these with domains other than pitch (see, for example, Peles 1983-4 and Samet 1985). However, I submit that these studies too are limited by the technology of compositional (or pre- compositional) theory in that non-pitch criteria for segmentation are invoked only to the extent they can be used to confirm the purported serial procedures. These same criteria used without prejudice would reveal a host of non-prescribed pitch relations. Such selectivity excludes many immediately audible structures and often results in interpretations of dubious perceptual status.

4. Set-class numbers follow the classification found in Allen Forte (1973), pp.l79-81 (Appendix 1).

5. Many ofthese contradictions are indicated by Brian Fennelly (1966) in his analysis of this movement. Fennelly writes that 'in comparison to [movement] I, an elegant, carefully wrought precision organism, [movement] II is unrestrained. Instead of preserving the clean formal divisions and analogies ofthe substructure [i.e. series], there is intentional blurring of the substructural organization in the realization of the superstructure' (:315). While Fennelly shows a sensitivity to context rarely found among commentators on Webern's twelve-note music, I believe he overestimates the congruence of 'substructure' and 'superstructure' in the first movement. For example, in the second section of movement I (bs 6- 15), Fennelly identifies two phrases on the basis of row completion. However, an analysis undertaken along the lines I have proposed above will reveal three phrases formed by the interaction of all domains. Lest I risk overstating my position, I should point out that there are instances, although they are relatively rare in Webern's music, in which features of row structure contribute more significantly to musical form. See, for example, John Rahn's sensitive analysis of the theme (bs 1-11) of the second movement of the Symphony, Op.21 (1980:4-17). Rahn discusses (: 11-12) problems involved in an attempt to generalize some of the discoveries of his analysis.

6. For Webern's comments on the form of this piece, giving the designation 'Thema' to the first section, see his letter to Hildegard Jone, 13 August 1941 (Webern 1959: 17).



7. Elsewhere (Hasty 1984) I have discussed the general issue of phrase structure in post-tonal music in greater detail.

8. Although contour pattern in Fig. 3 is regarded simply as a sequence of directions, it is possible to represent contour more specifically as a registral ordering by taking into account the registral position of each pitch vis-a-vis the remaining three pitches. Michael Friedmann (1985) has proposed such a representation in his concept of 'contour class'. From this perspective, the registral anomalies of all those tetrachords that present normative directional contours can be accounted for through the operations of retrograde, inversion and retrograde inversion. Thus D1 can be regarded as a registral inversion of D in Ex. 10, F2 as a retrograde of F, and A3 (see Ex. 14a) as a retrograde inversion of A.

9. Webern (1960:68) writes to Willi Reich, 3 May 1941:

Everything that takes place in this piece rests on the two ideas presented in the first and secondbars (contrabass and oboe)! But this canbe reduced even further, for the second figure (oboe) is itself already a retrograde: the second two tones are the retrograde of the first two, but in rhythmic augmentation. The first figure (contrabass) returns once again in the trombone, but in diminution! And the motive and intervals return in retrograde. That is how I have constructed my row - presented by these three groups of four tones.

But the unfolding of motives also participates in the retrograde, though employing augmentation and diminution! [Here Webern may also be referring to the retrograde (inversional) relationship of the two hexachords, a retrograde not entirely coordinated with durational values.] These two types of variation lead almost exclusively to the actual ideas of the variation, that is, a variation of motives proceeds, by and large, only within this framework. And yet through all kinds of shifts in the centre of gravity within the two figures, something new in metre, character, etc. is continually emerging. - Just compare the first repetition of the first figure with its first form (trombone and contrabass, respectively)! And so it goes throughout the entire piece: in the first twelve tones, and hence in the row, the entire content of the piece is germinally present! In prototype! ! ! - And, in bs 1 and 2, both tempi (observe the metronome markings !) of the piece as well ! ! ! [my translation]

REFERENCES

Fennelly, Brian, 1966: ' Structure and Process in Webern's Opus 22', Tournal of Music Theory, Vol. 10, pp.300-28.

Forte, Allen,1973: TheStructure of AtonalMusic (New Haven: Yale University Press). Friedmann, Michael, 1985: 'A Methodology for the Discussion of Contour: Its

Application to Schoenberg's Music', ZournalofMusic Theory, Vol.29, pp.223-47. Gerhard, Roberto, 1958: 'Apropos Mr Stadlen', The Score, No. 23, pp.50-7. Hasty, Christopher F., 1984: 'Phrase Formation in Post-Tonal Music', TournalofMusic



Theory, Vol. 28, pp.167-89. Kramer, Jonathan, 1971: 'The Row as Structural Background and Audible

Foreground: The First Movement of Webern's First Cantata', 3rournal of Music Theory, Vol. 15, pp.l58-81.

Peles, Stephen, 1983-4: 'Interpretation of Sets in Multiple Dimensions: Notes on the Second Movement of Arnold Schoenberg's String Quartet No. 3', Perspectives of New Music, Vol. 22, Nos 1 and 2, pp.303-52.

Perle, George, 1959: 'Theory and Practice in Twelve-Tone Music (Stadlen Reconsidered)', The Score, No. 25, pp. 58-64.

Piston, Walter, 1958: 'More Views on Serialism', The Score, No. 23, pp. 46-9. Rahn, John, 1980: Basic Atonal Theory (New York: Longman). Samet, Sidney Bruce, 1985: 'Hearing Aggregates' (Diss., Princeton University). Sessions, Roger, 1958: 'To the Editor', The Score, No. 23, pp.58-64. Smalley, Roger, 1975: 'Webern's Sketches (II)', Tempo, No. 113, pp.29-40. Stadlen, Peter, 1958a: 'Serialism Reconsidered', The Score, No. 22, pp. 12-27. -1958b: "'No Real Casualties"?', The Score, No. 24, pp.65-8. Webern, Anton, 1959: Briefe an Hildegard3rone und 3rosef Humplik (Vienna: Universal). -1960: Wege zur neuen Musik, ed. Willi Reich (Vienna: Universal). Whittall, Arnold, 1987: 'Webern and Multiple Meaning', Music Analysis, Vol. 6,

pp.333-53. Zuber, Barbara, 1984: 'Reihe, Gesetz, Urpflanze, Nomos', Musik-Konzepte -

Sonderband: Anton Webern II (Munich: Edition Text + Kritik), pp.304-36.


Composition and Context in Twelve-note Music of Anton Webern

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