jwilzewske: berlin

Showing posts with label berlin. Show all posts

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin: Baroque with Attitude(s), Baroque with Mixed Taste(s)

J osé Bowen writes of the ‘illusion that there is such a thing as a neutral performance style’... I believe it is an illusion principally of the listener; but even then perhaps ‘illusion’ is not the right idea... If Bowen typifies the view of a scholar making a ‘forensic’ examination after the event, rather than that of a performer who, for an ulterior artistic purposes, may need to have faith in some starting point without going too far into its credibility, he is nevertheless right to imply that performers do always display an attitude towards their music.”
— Jon Dunsby, in Rink, p. 227.

B uilding and shaping narrative is fundamental to effective interpretation, for musicians to bring a composition to life in performance (see esp. William Rothstein, in the book edited by John Rink, link below). In regard to constructing exciting and coherent narratives, Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin is second to none. Their performance last night was warmly received by Kansas Citians.

G.P. Telemann - Overture (Suite) in F minor, TWV55:f1
J.S. Bach - Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D major, BWV 1050
J.S. Bach - Violin Concerto in E major, BWV 1042
G. F. Handel - Concerto Grosso in F major, Op. 6, No. 2, HWV 32
G.P. Telemann - Concerto in E minor for Recorder & Flute, TWV52:e1.

T he Baroque slurred dotted-eighth-sixteenth ornament: this ‘punctuation’ conveys a certain tension, but it is not ‘tense’; it is instead athletic, like the taut muscles of a horse executing patterns in a dressage ring.

C onnecting the sixteenth note back to the dotted eighth with a slur has special and different meanings in Bach and Telemann and Handel. Telemann is more ‘French’ (see the excellent recent book by Steven Zohn, Baroque flutist and Assoc. Prof. Music History, Boyer College of Music & Dance, Temple Univ, link below, pp. 13ff). In the TWV 55:f1 Overture, there is an implied or interpolated ‘rest’ or suspension in the middle of the figure. By contrast, in the Akademie’s interpretations of Bach, the dotted-eighth-sixteenth slurs feel ‘pastoral’; these feel like distance is being traversed over soft earth or a hummocky pasture. In the minor keys, it feels solemn; it carries some gravitas. How wonderful to experience the diversity of German Baroque... the saturated colors and widely varying ‘feel’ and ‘sense’ that Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin impart to these pieces!

[30-sec clip, Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin, Telemann - Concerto in A minor for 2 recorders, TWV 55:a2, 1.1MB MP3]

T he musicians had already moved through several approaches to color and texture — a dark-hued French overture; a pair of light, graceful Menuets; a supple, rubato-laden Sarabande; and a pair of full-throttle fast movements — before arriving at the Plainte, a second slow movement. Suddenly, the string sound was hushed, velvety and nearly motionless. The ensemble addressed the Adagio of Bach’s Violin Concerto in E (BWV 1042) similarly, and the effect was no less surprising the second time... But for sheer inventive oddity, Handel’s Concerto Grosso in F (Op. 6, No. 2) proved the evening’s most memorable performance. Building on the gracefully modulating chord progression at the start of the work’s Andante Larghetto, the players produced a lush sound that painted Handel as an early avatar of English pastoralism.”
— Allan Kozinn, review, NY Times.

T he Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin (which loosely translates to the Berlin Academy of Early Music) features about 15 players trained in techniques employed in the 17th and 18th centuries, when the orchestra itself was still a relatively new idea. Friday’s concert confirmed that the uproar is warranted. The compelling program of music by German Baroque composers was one of the highlights of the concert season. What sets this ensemble apart from many others is the combination of technical expertise, extraordinary energy and sheer musicality... From the outset, the ensemble produced a soft but vibrant sound that was beautifully balanced. As it progressed through the nine-movement suite, the group demonstrated not only the ability to play well, but to infuse each movement with a sound and shape that was well conceived and effectively delivered. For example, the second movement contained two contrasting minuets. Not only was the instrumentation different — two recorders, lute and cello as opposed to strings — but differences in articulation also helped define each section...”
— Timothy McDonald, review, Kansas City Star.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Private Passion Now Public: Rachel Brown and the Tip of Quantz’s Previously Unpublished ‘Iceberg’

W hat a remarkable performance Rachel Brown (baroque flute) and Terence Charlston (harpsichord) gave last Friday, in the Parry Rooms at the Royal College of Music in London!

Sonata in G major, No. 272 - Presto mà fiero
Sonata in B major, No. 267 - Larghetto
Sonata in A major, No. 274 - Grazioso mà vivace
Sonata in D major, No. 277 - Allegro assai
Sonata in G minor, No. 366 - Affettuoso, mà mesto; Allegro di molto, mà fiero
Sonata in B-flat major, No. 272 - Allegro di molto; Affettuoso; Vivace
Sonata in C minor, No. 276 - Cantabile
Sonata in F major, No. 356 - Larghetto, mà arioso; Allegro di molto
Sonata in G minor, No. 265 - Con affetto, mà non troppo lento

T he occasion for the performance was the launch of the publication of the first two volumes of Quantz flute sonatas that Rachel has edited. Brown’s edition of Quantz Sonatas, bringing these works to the public for the first time, is available by subscription, either to one volume or both, by emailing her at info@uppernote.com.

T his is a marketing approach similar to that used in the 18th Century. For example, Brown notes that Telemann’s Paris Quartets listed among its subscribers not only several members of the French aristocracy, such renowned players as Blavet, Guignon, Edouard, and composers, notably de Caix d'Hervelois, Charpentier, Mondonville, Fasch, Pisendel but also a ‘J.S. Bach of Leipzig’.

V olume 1 contains 6 sonatas (F major No. 272; G major No. 273; A major No. 274; B-flat major No. 275; C minor No. 276; D major No. 277) as does Vol. 2 (B minor No. 231; B minor No. 267; G minor No. 336; E-flat major No. 348; A major No. 351; F major No. 356). These are selected by Brown from the more than 300 flute sonatas that Quantz composed, almost none of which have been previously published.

Q uantz’s book ‘On Playing the Flute’ is still one of the most-consulted books on flute technic, which makes it especially odd that virtually none of Quantz’s many compositions were actually published. Almost everything that was written by Quantz for King Frederick of Prussia remained in the court’s private possession, and then in the Stadtsbibliothek in Berlin, for more than 200 years. So I went to the library in Berlin to have a look. I would arrive in the morning when they opened at 9 a.m. and take a quarter-hour lunch and leave when they closed at 7 p.m. The librarians were wonderful; they broke almost every rule to help me—they were so delighted that someone was taking an interest in these things. It turns out that there are more than 300 Quantz concerti and about 400 sonatas, hardly any of which have been published.”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

T he design of these Volumes is unique in several ways. Firstly, for the sonatas that have a ‘bass’ (cello) part as well as flute and harpsichord, the flute and bass parts appear on linked staff-systems together—so that both players can continuously see what the other is doing, with the obvious advantages that this entails for fluid, mutually-responsive performance.

I t is crucial, I think, to have the flute and the cello (bass) parts together on the page—to have the cello able to see where the dialogue with the flute is going and, from that, to be better able to choose appropriate phrasing and ornamentation.”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

T onguing, for Quantz, was not just simple ‘tuh’ or ‘duh’. Instead, tonguing involved a whole range of syllables and shades—tiree, tä, diddle-diddle—all sorts of articulations that could alter the sound and reveal different qualities of expression. The expressive range he covered is really quite marvelous—something that takes years to fathom, really.”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

R achel expressed deep thanks to Terence Charlston for his skill and devotion in preparing right-hand parts where Quantz only provided left-hand continuo. In all, Terry had to compose about 120 minutes of right-hand harpsichord score, for the multiple movements of the 12 sonatas in these two volumes.

R achel also expressed gratitude to Jackie Lee, whose Finale©/Sibelius© copyist/pre-press expertise produced the publication-ready digital files. Rachel’s specification and Jackie’s layout involve fold-out pages so as to prevent any awkward page-turns for the performers. This is a second unique/novel aspect of the design of the 2-Volume publication.

T he acoustics in the intimate, modest-size Parry Rooms on the 4th floor at RCM were ideal for the baroque flute-harpsichord duo. Filled to capacity with more than 120 people eager to hear these works, the rooms with their irregular wall and ceiling contours and the warm yellow-pine ceiling and paneling served to reflect the sound in such a way that most everyone had a good vantage point for hearing the performance. (We were grateful for Rachel's consideration in getting everybody who was in Parry 1 moved into Parry 2 just before the performance began!)

B rown explained at length the merits of various alternate fingerings that the Quantz design affords. Her blazing 32nd notes in the bravura first movements of the pieces, though, are pretty incredible, regardless how well-engineered and forgiving a particular instrument may be. It is hard for most of us to imagine executing these fast passages on a modern Boehm design instrument with anything approaching the fluency and consistency of tone that Brown achieves on an early flute! What prodigious ability she has!

W e were similarly thrilled by Charlston’s finely-nuanced harpsichord performance. The gracefulness of his accomodation of accelerando and ritardando decisions initiated by Brown was magnificent; the ornaments Charlston applied embodied a fresh spontaneity that responded attentively to Brown’s gestures but never ‘competed’ with them. Really exciting ‘collaborative keyboard’ at its best!

O ne of Quantz’s strengths was rhetorical ‘delivery’... all of the gestures with tonguing and breathing... He believed that every musician should play like an accomplished orator speaks: clarity and conviction should ring out from every declaration that you make as a musician. Above all else, you must be an orator.”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

A n especially endearing and comment-worthy aspect of the evening were Rachel’s remarks between the pieces that she and Terry played. She covered an amazing gamut of topics, ranging from instrument design, to ornamentation and historically-informed performance practice, to flute-playing technic, to composition methods, to Prussian history, to anecdotes on parent-child relationships and the plight of kids whose natures are ‘different’ than their parents would prefer. Seldom have we had so much fun as we did on Friday night. Immediately bought all of Rachel’s Quantz CDs on-offer, to take them home and get better acquainted with this previously-private-now-public Quantz passion. Judging by the qualities she displayed during the Friday night performance at RCM, Rachel must be one hell of a teacher! Bravo!

E very day, Quantz was defending and protecting his reputation... It is interesting to read other people’s accounts of him... In his own writings, filled with quotidian bits and pieces, he will often tell you, for example, how much he paid for a thing, as though it were important to him to demonstrate or prove his shrewdness. He was orphaned at a young age and was taken under the wing of a local musician... In his teens, Quantz concentrated on oboe and violin; only later did he come to concentrate on flute. It is underappreciated how much of a musical jack-of-all-trades he was—how resilient.”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

H e gave flute lessons, secretly, to Prince Frederick—before Frederick’s father, the King, died. The father’s disapproval of music, and especially of flute, was absolute; he considered it far too effeminate, inadequate as a representation of Prussian militarism, and incompatible with the important priorities that Frederick must have in his training to become King one day. There was one episode during one of Quantz’s lessons when one of Frederick’s servants reported that the father was approaching the part of the palace where the secret flute lessons room was located. Quantz and the flutes and the music and the music stands were shoved into an armoire. The father arrived and found Frederick alone, studying some book of military strategy, but, because Frederick’s hair was still done-up in the French style, he knew something was ‘up’. The father searched the area for more than an hour, but never found Quantz in the armoire. Quantz, though, subsequently referred to the incident as ‘being cooked’—because the armoire was so cramped and hot while he was confined in there.”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

A t one point, Frederick tried to escape, with the help of a servant. The two did not get far. The father arrested them and subsequently had them tried for high treason. Frederick was imprisoned for a year, and his father forced the young Frederick to witness the execution of the servant.”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

Q uantz did marry, you know. It was under, shall we say, ‘intriguing’ circumstances. He went to visit the widow of one of his friends who had recently died. The woman was ill; bedridden; in fact, the priest had been called to administer the last rites to her. And, with the priest there, the woman was asked if there was anything she most desired before she departed this life. And she replied that her dying wish was to be married to the great Quantz. So Quantz agreed and the priest conducted the ceremony on the spot. After which the woman sprang from her bed, said she felt very much better now, and thanked everyone for coming. This was when Quantz’s annual income was more than 2,000 talers, more than 10 times that of C.P.E. Bach...”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

T his particular flute is a boxwood one that I was able to buy from Carl Hanson in Yorkshire before he retired. It is a 2-key design after Quantz—the two keys are E-flat, which is a few cents higher in pitch, and D-sharp, which is a few cents lower in pitch [than would be the case in equal-temperament]. The difference is very useful, depending on which key a piece is written in. Rudolf Tutz in Innsbruck also made me two flutes of Quantz-type design, one of ebony and one of boxwood—these woods have substantially different tone qualities, both very good. The bore of Quantz flutes is considerably larger, especially in the headjoint, compared to other baroque flutes. The sound is darker and richer in the lower register and yet they are brilliant in the upper register...”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

T hese titles or designations for pieces became more and more florid, you know... this ‘Allegro di molto, mà fiero’, ‘this way, but not too much so’, and so on. In fact, as we enter the Classical period, you can tell that people were finding it to be over-the-top. Mozart, for example, entitled one of the movements in his Quartet in A major KV-298 ‘Allegro grazioso, mà non troppo presto, però non troppo adagio, così-così-con molto garbo ed espressione’, mocking the excessiveness of the practice of a generation or two earlier.”
— Rachel Brown, remarks between Quantz sonatas, 19-NOV-2010.

Rachel Brown website
Rachel Brown page at RCM
Terence Charlston page
Rudolf Tutz Baroque Flutes
Carl Hanson Baroque Flutes, 23 The Crescent, Hipperholme, Halifax, West Yorkshire HX3 8NQ U.K., Tel: +44-(0)1422-201289
FluteHistory.com
Bärenreiter-Verlag ur-text facsimile publishers
FluteFocus.com
Brown R. The Early Flute: A Practical Guide. Cambridge Univ, 2003.
Dehne-Niemann E. The Quantz flute. Traverso 1994;9(4):1-4.
Quantz J. (E. Reilly, tr.) On Playing the Flute. Northeastern, 2001.

M odern editorial markings can so easily obscure the composer's intentions. Unhelpful editions of baroque music are readily recognisable: if a copy of a baroque sonata designates ‘piano accompaniment’; if the left-hand keyboard part has no figured bass; if there is no separate bass part for a cellist or viol player; if there are metronome marks...”
— Rachel Brown, The Early Flute.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Artemis Quartett: Dissonance, Forensic Evidence, and Knowing

L et’s make nonfiction that is more thrilling than fiction. Let’s use the best of what fiction has to offer and make it more exciting because what happened was real.”
— Ellen Windemuth, founder, Off_the_Fence Productions, Amsterdam.

A rtemis Quartet’s performance in Kansas City last Friday night received a warm reception here.

Natalia Prischepenko, violin
Gregor Sigl, violin
Friedemann Weigle, viola
Eckart Runge, cello

T he all-Beethoven program consisted of Op. 95 (F minor) “Serioso”, Op. 127 No. 12 (E-flat major), and Op. 59 No. 3 “Razumovsky” (C major): supple interpretations throughout, without excesses of any kind, either radical or conservative. In this way, what the Artemis are doing sounds perpetually spontaneous, as though each member is reconsidering the ‘evidence’ that is expressed in her/his part—considering it anew each time they play.

I n fact, one of the qualities that impressed me especially was Artemis Quartett’s emphasis on the dramatic tensions between the parts—discourse between the instruments, yes, but as though the instruments (and the scores) have long-lasting disagreements, and express points of view that are founded on different evidence, profoundly different life-histories, irreconcilably different politics, and so on. Each player/part is not about to renounce what he/she ‘knows’.

[50-sec clip, Artemis Quartett, Beethoven, String Quartet in F minor, Op. 95 II, ‘Allegretto ma non troppo’, 1.6MB MP3]

T he exciting (and thought-provoking) result is a durable refractoriness to “nice” conclusions—a richness of trans-indivdual tension and dramatic complexity, even in works that are very familiar to us from repeated listening or performances.

T he encore, Astor Piazzolla’s ‘Suite del Ángel: Milonga del Ángel – Melancólico’, was another 6.7-min illustration of this.

T his Piazzolla suite is part of his series of “ángel” compositions from the 1950s and 1960s, usually performed with bandoneon or other instrumentation instead of this gorgeous arrangement for string quartet. Piazzolla had studied with Nadia Boulanger and famously alleged that his unusual counterpoint methods, for better or worse, could be blamed on her insidious pedagogy. In the “ángel” movement that the Artemis performed as an encore, we have lyrical elements that are passed among the quartet members, some of whose musical ‘testimony’ is corroborative of others’ testimony and some of whose testimony is discorroborative or contradictory. The scordatura-governed dissonance is earnest but not fierce; laconic, not agitated and verbose; and, as noted above, its rhetoric is serious, not whimsical or anecdotal.

T his peculiar Piazzolla suite is similar in narrative technique and orchestration methods to the 1949 ‘Sonata for Double Bass’ by Paul Hindemith. In that work, the bass player uses scordatura, tuning up a whole-step, which lends an unsettling, destabilizing effect to the sonata. In this Piazzolla movement, the cello’s C-string is tuned, I think, a whole-step down. In both works, the parts conjure a song in the form of a dialogue between the instruments. Hindemith: creator of ‘disharmonious counterpoint’ in which traditional combinatorial rules are subverted by a ‘decoupled system’ of tonality, or, maybe more accurately, a novel with an “unreliable narrator” point-of-view character. Piazzolla: creator of ‘testimonial dissonance’, with similar “unreliable” point-of-view characters.

T he same melody can be sung either alone or together with other players/characters, or entirely different melodies can be enunciated at the same time, or with variations that substantially alter the sense that the melody makes—the very embodiment of subjectivity and multiple, unstable points-of-view.

W hile we can recognize that the point of view of the “ángel” cello is constitutionally dour or sometimes irritable/unsympathetic, the subtlety and the disputes among the other parts’ responses prevent us from deciding that the cello-narrator, for all his vividness and probity, is more than just a figment of Piazzolla’s imagination. Our drive for certainty is flouted again and again, but we continue to listen, and there arrive more clues. We continue our listening with feelings of prolongèdly heightened suspense. Or ‘suspense-mingled-with-poignant-sense-of-loss-plus-optimism’.

T he result is that we get a riveting, realistic depiction of what may happen to human psyches when they are self-styled and unrelenting. They each know what they know; they each agree to disagree. Such complexity is emotionally engaging and believable, not confusing. In other words, read the quartet as you would read a good novel—as though it were real.

[50-sec clip, Artemis Quartett, Piazzolla, ‘Milonga del Ángel-Melancólico’, 1.6MB MP3]

T he Beethoven the Artemis offered was remarkably cogent and organic. The group dispatched the agitated, mercurial first movement of the Quartet in F minor (Op. 95) with a deft combination of rhapsodic vigor and cool control.”
— Anthony Tomassini, New York Times, 02-MAR-2010.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Berliner Philharmoniker: Schoenberg’s ‘Accompaniment’, Op. 34

Schoenberg discursively playing chamber pingpong in 1930

Schoenberg discursively plays ‘chamber pingpong’ in 1930

H ow words are understood is not told by words alone. How music is understood is not told by music alone. [How films are understood is not told by film alone.]”
— Arnold Schoenberg quote.

T hough originality is inseparable from personality, there exists also a kind of originality which does not derive from profound personality. Products of such artists are often distinguished by uniqueness that resembles true originality… Certainly there was inventiveness at work when the striking changes of some subordinate elements were accomplished for the first time. Subsequently, they achieved an aspect of novelty not derived profoundly from basic ideas. This is ‘mannerism’, not originality. The difference is that mannerism is ‘originality in subordinate matters’. There are many, and even respectable, artists whose success and reputation are based on this minor kind of originality… The moral air of such products is rather for success and publicity than for enriching mankind’s thoughts.”
— Arnold Schoenberg, Criteria For the Evaluation of Music (1946), quoted by Tom Myron.

T onight the Berliner Philharmoniker, under conductor Sir Simon Rattle, performed Schoenberg’s 1929 ‘Begleitungsmusik zu einer Lichtspielscene (Drohende Gefahr, Angst, Katastrophe) ‘ [Accompaniment to a Cinematographic Scene], Op. 34, at Carnegie Hall. What, if anything does Op. 34 have to do with ‘chamber music’, you ask?

W ell, if ‘intimacy’ is the defining quality of ‘chamber’ music idioms, then Op. 34 has considerable to do with ‘chamber’ collaborative motivations and expressive qualities. Hive-like sectional playing so ‘tight’ and in-tune that a whole section sounds like one person… ‘Open’ orchestration that accentuates individualism of parts… Parts covered by one musician (e.g., timpani; flute flutter-tonguing; heavily muted/smothered trumpet; clarinet near the end of the piece)… A spirit of ‘mutual discovery’ among the ensemble’s parts, instead of orchestral ‘exposition’…

A gainst those ‘chamber’ features you have the fact that the ensemble has a conductor, has 100+ members, and is playing in this large unchamber-like hall. So, go ahead and throw out my fascination with chamber-ness if you want.

J ust the same, maybe the writing does manifest chamber music idioms. Does any modest-size chamber orchestra ever perform this Op. 34, I wonder?

I n 1929 Schönberg was commissioned by the Heinrichshofen Verlag in Magdeburg to write music for films. The autocratic Schoenberg was not about to relinquish his artistic control, contract or no contract, and so he focused on the eponymous ‘threatening danger, fear, catastrophe.’

A s a result, Op. 34 is only loosely an instance of ‘program music’. It does not specifically address any particular film’s scenes or characters. The film was hypothetical, imaginary, never produced. The sections that comprise the work (Introduction; 12-tone theme; Song form; Ostinato; Four Contrasting Episodes; Subdivision into Tetrachords; Climax; Reflection on the Beginning of the Work) are fragments. They are idealizations of features that might occur in music intended to be coupled with a film—it’s a kind of meta-film score, a score about future film scores.

A ctually, Schönberg constructs the climax of ‘Begleitungsmusik’ by colliding a succession of tiny components without predetermining a ‘victor’. The 8-min piece is a series of ideas that enter and enter and enter, intruding upon other ideas that are still being articulated by other parts. New material that unexpectedly eclipses other material—that is a gesture that in 1930 was revolutionary but that we today recognize as a frequent element of film music: overlapping and occluding parts is a way to convey/reinforce that the ‘action’ is changing.

M ore than this even, Op. 34 has an amorphous pattern of rapidly altering meter. The tempo is ‘elastic’, changing on a timescale that is very short—several seconds only—in a manner that palpably means action. This piece feels decades ahead of its time, introducing gesture after gesture that we today recognize as ‘cinematic’.

A ccompaniment’/‘Begleitungsmusik’ is a term that evidently bothered Schoenberg. It’s such a politically ‘loaded’ term, connoting subjection of musicians and abandonment to some larger fate that is beyond their control...

B ut the accurate word for the film composer’s relationship to a director/producer is ‘abandonment’. It must surely be the rare film scoring gig where the director/producer is open to deep collaboration—open to the film’s aesthetic’s being seriously modulated or diverted by what the composer comes up with on her/his own recognizance, like what iconoclast Schoenberg was doing. In a highly competitive world where composers are required to deliver commercial results on tight deadlines, producers and directors do everything that they can to de-risk their projects, with carefully constructed contracts and scene-lists and storyboards. They restrict the budgets and the support in such a way as to preempt novel spiritual discernments and mental awakenings to deep creativity that might extraneously occur. They usurp the composerly role, as Moorefield puts it (link below), and the composer takes a subordinate one... For most film composers, their intimate, chamber Truths lie undiscovered and, if detected, unexamined or edited-away. Exceptions to this exist, of course; but still…

S o here, in the Berlin Philharmoniker’s beautiful, inspired account of Schoenberg’s Op. 34, we heard a singular, intimate Truth that refused to be subdued by film contracts, producers, commissions. It was a performance so dramatic and unusual that I wanted to put these few thoughts about it down here, even though it’s a bit OT for CMT…

A ccompaniment’ is difficult, isn’t it? Tough, in part, because it must sound ‘easy’ and not ‘ask too much’. The listener is to be shielded from the difficulties that arise from constraints that require the composer to shorten or prolong each phrase to match the film’s action, at whatever pace that action unfolds. The music suffuses us generously with deliberation and control that originate in the film but only tenuously so. The film’s action can ‘lean’ on the music if it wishes, like a cushion. The film can fall back onto the music if it needs to, like a trapeze artist’s safety-net. These are the cognitive assurances that the music suffusing us makes. Conventional ‘score-as-accompaniment’ is the epitome of supportiveness and of the absence of surprise and obtrusiveness/iconoclasm.

A nd yet, in Op. 34, sudden viola warmth floods the music—inviting but untrustworthy. There are bassoonistic surprises. Seeping drohende Gefahr, existential Angst.

T remulous cellos, holding the first two pitches in the 12-tone row, are joined by the bassoon and bass who are preoccupied with pitches 3, 4, 5, and 6. Pitches 6 through 12 enter precipitously in staccato fusillades. The score progressively explores violence and estrangement, via col legno bow-ballistics and brass and flute flutter-tonguing.

O kay, so maybe Schoenberg’s temperament was not well-suited to composing to commission ‘spec’ on short deadlines. But the duress illuminates so much about the composer as individual, and about small-ensemble perspectives! Originality is, after all, not necessarily something deeply ‘new’ but often the result of looking askance—an averted gaze that looks at the familiar in a fresh, detached way.

R ainer Seegers (timpani) was particularly skillful in animating Schoenberg’s averted-gaze existential feeling in Op. 34. Large-ensemble orchestration, yes; but still chamber-like sensibility.

I f you're a software programmer or a mathematical linguist, you might like to read Gorbman (link below) on what today we would call refactoring and code hierarchies... film music as cognitive refactoring of codes contained in the film's action/imagery, simplifying complex relationships between object classes and subclasses and/or confirming or refuting provisional concept bindings that the viewer has made based on the film's imagery.