Showing posts with label lateness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lateness. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

The Uncertain Lateness of the Hour: ‘Periods’ and the Musical Self

 Clocks
E  dward Said’s book [published posthumously, following his death in 2003 of leukemia] is a series of dazzling case studies exploring the idea of ‘lateness’ in a range of composers, writers and artists.”
  —  London Review of Books.
L  ateness doesn’t name a single relation to Time but it always brings Time in its wake. It is a way of remembering Time, whether it is missed or met or gone. … The quality of Time alters then, like a change in the light, because the present is so thoroughly shadowed by other seasons: the revived or receding past, the newly unmeasurable future, the unimaginable time beyond Time. The conversion of Time into Space.”
  —  Edward Said, ‘On Late Style: Music & Literature Against the Grain’, p. xi.
Edward Said, literary theorist and Columbia University Professor of Comparative Literature, had not expected to die when he did, in early Autumn, 2003, at age 67. He had had chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML) for more than 10 years. It was an acute infection related to CML blast crisis that took him away. His last book, ‘On Late Style: Music & Literature Against the Grain’, was unfinished at the time, and was completed by Michael Wood at Princeton University. There is both irony and poetic beauty in this fact.

 Edward Said, 2003
The intimacy of chamber music genres provides unusually apropos means to express lateness—the irreconcilabilities of it; the private amusements and perplexities of it—perhaps better than other genres. Lateness: the idea that one is not getting out of this alive, that one cannot go beyond the [terminal] idioms and stances to which one has finally arrived.

Edward Said asserts that ‘lateness’ has to do with ‘the sentiment of Being’ and ‘the sentiments of Art’. But there are plenty of specifics beyond such colorful hand-waving. The book was the result not only of his own drafts of material that were intended to become a published book but also lecture-notes and detailed outline materials that he used in his course on Late Style in the Dept of English and Comparative Literature at Columbia. Lateness: inculcating and sustaining the unity and integrity of the self—its dignity and freedom—like Jane Austen and her judgmental stance toward the selves of her characters.

 End of Pier
W  ith an unexceptionally Arab family name like Said connected to an improbably British first name, I was an uncomfortably anomalous student all through my early years: a Palestinian going to school in Egypt, with an English first name, an American passport and no certain identity at all.”
  —  Edward Said, London Review of Books interview, 07-MAY-1998.
Lateness: embodying the quality of self-sufficiency and, in anticipation of the finiteness of life, a measure of abandon and acceptance of the human condition. Said’s is a visionary normative stance, just as the qualities we refer to as ‘late’ are likewise visionary and normative. Lateness is the reaching of a new and final level of expression—Titian’s late-period discovery of the all-penetrating light that transmutes human flesh to reveal the soul and an alterior unity (Hermann Broch, quoted by Said, OLS, p. 137). It is the arrival at a state of ‘nothing-left-to-prove’ [to others], a renunciation of ambition.

A  mutation: the process by which the arduous enterprise of sincerity, of being true to one’s self, came to occupy a place of supreme importance in moral life—and the further cultural shift which finds that place now usurped by the darker and still more strenuous modern ideal of authenticity.”
  —  Jacket blurb for Lionel Trilling’s book, ‘Sincerity & Authenticity’.
Lateness’ is not about impoverishedness or loss or despondency. It is not about resignation or desolation. It may touch upon these, but it is not ‘about’ them. It is instead about parables and testaments. It is about exile and unashamed subjectivity. It is about the acceptance of life’s contradictions and irresolvable and irreconcilable differences. It is about the sadness of Life and the joy of Life all at once, as Elliott Carter has said. The longing and the fervency of expression may be, if anything, greater than ever in one’s ‘late’ period; just less concerned with coherence than before.

 End of Pier
W  hat gripped Adorno in Beethoven’s late work is its episodic character: its apparent disregard for its own continuity … seemingly unmotivated rhetorical devices like trills or appoggiaturas whose role in the work seems unintegrated into the structure … the caesuras, the sudden discontinuities … the work still remains ‘process’ but not as ‘development’; rather as a catching-fire between extremes which no longer allow for any secure middle-ground … the vestige of an individual human sorely aware of the wholeness that has eluded it forever.”
  —  Edward Said, ‘On Late Style: Music & Literature Against the Grain’, p. 10.
The notions of poetics and lateness imply at least some self-awareness. And whenever descriptive representation of a feeling or idea is planned and realized (composed; performed), poetics is met by analysis and interpretation. Composers, especially, cannot help projecting themselves and their own poetics into the analysis and interpretation by which their ideas are realized. Pierre Boulez’s analyses of Debussy and Berg are an example, as, too, are Adorno’s analyses of Beethoven and, now, Said’s analyses.

T  he most meaningful analysis of a symphony is another symphony. [And, at the end of life, there will be no more symphonies, no continuations of re-thinking things, no more replies.] ”
  —  Luciano Berio
What else? We often see an expressive prolixity in earlier compositions, while in ‘late works’ there is expressive economy. Given just enough notes to sustain the idea, ‘late’ pieces are often harmonically or rhythmically sparse and sometimes lapse into monody, then silence. Sometimes a piece is open-ended, simply vanishing. Early exponents of the practice of ending (‘abandoning’) a work in mid-passage include Frederic Chopin, Robert Schumann, and Franz Liszt. But there have been many since, including Elliott Carter—who spoke of this during his interview with Richard Dyer at Tanglewood last week.

An harmonic adventurousness, a radical chromaticism, a tonal ambiguity? Not necessarily. Those sorts of stylistic artifacts can arise at any age—early, middle, or late. Instead, what’s new in late compositions or late performances is a pervasive ‘worldliness’—not bitterness or cynicism or resignation. The musician has accumulated what business people jokingly call ‘scar tissue’—psychological grit; metaphysical emery. It doesn’t blunt the expressive edge; to the contrary, the lapidary effect sharpens all of the expressive edges.

 Joann Lynn, RAND Corp, trajectories at end of life
One of the facets of ‘lateness’ that Said does not address in his book is the age-independent psychological aspect of how a piece comes unexpectedly to be ‘late’ or have qualities that we associate with ‘lateness’. The composer may have bipolar depression from early on in life, for example. Or the early onset of strokes or Alzheimer’s may fundamentally alter the composer’s or the performer’s perspective while not extinguishing the ability to continue. Or serious events happen in a person’s life that situationally yield the mien of advanced age. All of those can creep into the music. All of those can determine what and how much is left, and how ‘late’ the output that does follow is.

 Beyond the Pier
For example, in the late 1950s, the Neo-Classicist Finnish composer Einar Englund experienced a personal crisis and stopped composing. Modernism, which he termed “a mockery of the composer as a serious artist,” had irrevocably changed what was getting commissioned and performed. He said that in that milieu he felt he no longer had anything to say; his Neo-Classical idioms were no longer welcome: the ‘river’ had changed course, and he was left ‘high and dry’ on the old riverbank.

In his autobiography (1996), Englund confided another, more serious reason for the crisis: the tragic death of his wife in 1956, when Einar was 40 years old. Englund didn’t resume composing until 1971. His most productive period in terms of sheer musical output was the 1980s—and those of the ‘later’ Englund pieces that I’ve listened to do manifest some of the desultory attitude or ‘scar tissue’ I’m referring to. Englund died at 83, in 1999.

 Beyond the Pier
W  hat of artistic ‘lateness’ not as harmony and mature resolution, but as intransigence, difficulty, and unresolved contradiction; as anachronism and anomaly; as a special ironic expressiveness well beyond the words and the situation?”
  —  Edward Said, ‘On Late Style: Music & Literature Against the Grain’, p. xiii.
Mahler and Schnittke and many other people have had health conditions that conferred a precocious ‘lateness’ early in their lives as composers. Schubert’s last three string quartets, the String Quintet in C (D 956), the last three piano sonatas (Sonata No. 19 in c (D 958); Sonata No. 20 in A (D 959); Sonata No. 21 in B-flat (D 960), and the ‘Schwanengesang’ cycle are yet another species of lateness that Said does not address. That is, lateness and apprehension sometimes impart a tense, hemmed-in-èdness—an amenability to expediency of orchestration and compositional cliché borne partly out of haste: compromises of the Eleventh Hour; contractions from the radical inventiveness that Said’s treatment of lateness dwells on.

If you haven’t previously seen them, have a look at Edward Said’s books, ‘On Late Style’ and ‘Music at the Limits’. They contain valuable insights for all musicians, with regard to age-appropriate style. And they are, inadvertently, eloquent auto-elegies for Said himself. Touching and, maybe, life-changing for the musician-reader.

A  s one can see in the early and the late ‘Goldberg Variations’ performances that eerily frame his career—one at the very beginning, the other at the very end—Gould excavated the contrapuntal as well as chaconne structure of the work to announce an ongoing exploration of Bach’s inventiveness through and by way of his own virtuosic realizations … crafted resolutely against the negation and disorder that surround us on all sides. In enacting it on the piano, the performer aligns himself/herself with the composer, not with the consuming public, which is impelled to pay attention not so much to the performance as a passively looked-at and heard presentation, as to a rational and transcendant activity being intellectually, aurally, and visually transmitted to others.”
  —  Edward Said, ‘On Late Style: Music & Literature Against the Grain’, pp. 130-2.

 Tsunami hitting pier, Hilo HI, 01-APR-1946; Time for the man pictured at left: about as 'Late' as it is possible to get.


Sunday, July 27, 2008

Chamber Music & Norman Dello Joio

 Norman Dello Joio
I  n the cool of the night time
The clocks pick off the points
And the mainsprings loosen.
They will need winding
One of these days.
Rabelais, in red boards—
Walt Whitman in green,
Hugo in ten-cent paper covers:
Here they stand on shelves
In the cool of the night time
And there is nothing
To be said against them...”
  —  Carl Sandburg, ‘Cornhuskers’, 1918 (one of the texts/epigrams for Dello Joio’s 1940 ‘Suite for Piano’, premiered at Carnegie Hall on 09-MAR-1941).
The lyricism of Norman Dello Joio, who died last week at age 95 on 24-JUL, is treasured by all who have performed or listened to his works.

In 1939, he received a scholarship to Juilliard, where he studied composition with Bernard Wagenaar. And in 1941 he began studying with Paul Hindemith, who encouraged him to follow his own lyrical inclinations, instead of pursuing atonal or 12-tone systems. By the late 40s, he was highly-regarded among American composers and prolific in a variety of genres, especially choral music. He served on the faculty at Sarah Lawrence College in the late 40s, and later at Mannes College of Music. He was professor and dean at Boston University until retiring in 1978, when he moved to Long Island. Throughout his career he was devoted to music education, and his ‘Comprehensive Musicianship’ pedagogical materials and advocacy helped to guide and calibrate subsequent generations of authors/composers of curricula, method books and etudes.

Here are some of his chamber music pieces.
  • Piano Trio, 1937
  • Suite for Piano (Sandburg’s Phrases), 1940
  • Sextet for Three Recorders & String Trio, 1944
  • Duo Concertato for Cello & Piano, 1945
  • Sonata No. 1 for Piano, 1947
  • Sonata No. 2 for Piano, 1948
  • Sonata No. 3 for Piano, 1948
  • Trio for Flute, Cello & Piano, 1948
  • Fantasia on a Gregorian Theme for Violin & Piano, 1949
  • Variations and Capriccio for Violin & Piano, 1949
  • Nocturne in E for Piano, 1950
  • Nocturne in F-sharp for Piano, 1950
  • Aria and Toccata for Two Pianos, 1955
  • Colloquies for Violin & Piano, 1964
  • Bagatelles for Harp, 1969
  • Capriccio on the Interval of a Second for piano, 1969
  • Three Essays for Clarinet & Piano, 1974
  • Lyric Fantasies for Viola and String Quintet, 1975
  • Sonata for Trumpet and Piano, 1980
  • Concert Variants for Piano, 1983




[Dello Joio, ‘Trio for Flute, Cello & Piano’, 1948]

 Dello Joio, Concert Variants for Piano, 1983, mm. 6 - 11
Norman’s open harmonies and engaging writing style somehow fit well with the often-weighty subject matter of his compositions. It’s unfortunate that in recent years many of these pieces have not been more frequently performed and recorded. Although not warhorses for sheer technical virtuosic display, they present the performer with challenges of a different sort—conveying depth/complexity of emotion through phrasing and thoughtful gesture. These pieces have great expressive potential, and deserve to be included more often in the chamber music repertoire.





[Dello Joio, ‘Piano Sonata No. 3’, 1948]

 Dello Joio, Piano Sonata No. 3, 1948, mm. 8 - 15
Although sight-singing, keyboard harmony, theory, and so on, are part of development of musicianship, Dello Joio’s emphasis and major concern focused on those skills that are mainly cognitive—that is, music concepts and interpretive and analytical skills that are not predominantly developed through psychomotor (performance) drill. By nature he was opposed to performance-practice ‘tricks’, and he was impervious to the seductions of celebrity and technical virtuosity that have attained such popular cachet in recent years. Dello Joio’s traditional artistic values and teaching—and his compositions—are and will remain important guides for us going forward.

N  orman Dello Joio is outstanding for an outgoing directness of expression and simplicity of manner ... which have an intentionally broad appeal. A strong melodic vein; a rhythmic vitality; a relatively restrained harmonic vocabulary; an infectious brio and freshness of invention—these are among the earmarks of his style. Inseparable from this style is Dello Joio’s conviction—resembling almost an ethical attitude—that his music should communicate with a broad, contemporary public——not merely with an alert avant garde, not with a few fellow composers, not with some hypothetical future public.”
  —  Edward Downes, The music of Norman Dello Joio. The Musical Quarterly 1962; 48:149-72.


 Norman Dello Joio


Friday, July 25, 2008

On Stylized Naturalism: Chamber Music of Elliott Carter

 Elliott Carter, Oliver Knussen, and TMC Orchestra, 24-JUL-2008, Tanglewood
F  inally, I began to understand what he [Carter] was doing. Then I said, ‘Well, it’s really not all that interesting: the same gestures over and over again.’ ”
  —  Robert Baska, comment on Allan Kozinn’s NY Times ArtsBeat blog post, 24-JUL-2008.
A  nd, to each his/her own. Is it true, then, that maybe you are not interested in patterns in nature: flocks of birds in flight; ripples on water; fresh breezes on your face? Those are the same gestures over and over again. Are those not interesting and beautiful? Do you turn away from those? No. Well, to me, Carter’s stylized naturalism—referred to by Oliver Knussen on Monday—is neither more nor less interesting than Nature itself. There is no law that says all music has to have a dramatic human-centric plot, no law that says all chamber music has to have explicit dialogue between the parts, no law that says you have to work yourself up to a big rhetorical finale.”
  —  DSM, 24-JUL-2008.
The BSO’s Festival of Contemporary Music at Tanglewood (Elliott Carter Centenary) on Thursday had a wonderful performance of several of Carter’s smaller instrumental pieces by Tanglewood Music Center Fellows, plus special guests Charles Rosen and Fred Sherry.

  • Saeta (1949) and Canaries (1949) [Steven Merrill (timpani)]
  • Four Lauds for Violin (1984-2001) [Martin Schultz: Remembering Aaron, and Remembering Roger; Stephanie Nussbaum: Riconoscenza per Goffredo Petrassi, and Rhapsodic Musings for Robert Mann]
  • Figment IV (2007) [Gareth Zehngut (viola)]
  • Figment III (2007) [Kevin Jablonski (double-bass)]
  • Steep Steps (2001) [Brent Besner (bass clarinet)]
  • Canto (1966) and March (1949) [Kyle Zerna (timpani)]
  • Elegy (1943) [Fred Sherry (cello), Charles Rosen (piano)]
  • 90+ (1994) [Charles Rosen (piano)]


    [30-sec clip, Charles Rosen, Elliott Carter, ‘90+ for Piano’, 1MB MP3]

Before the performance, we were treated to a captivating discussion, with former Boston Globe music critic Richard Dyer interviewing Elliott Carter. Elliott extemporizes his responses in a vivid, easy-going way—a way that enables us to see the genuineness of the man and his thinking. No mere reminiscences, his comments were up-to-the-minute ‘pearls’ reflecting his current assessment of how things are and why they are that way.

On matters where he feels he has no answer or where he thinks his views might be biased, he says so, simply and matter-of-factly. When one is 100, there is a premium on integrity.

But on most topics, Carter is expansive, each point leading to others in rapid succession. Those lucky enough to attend the Tanglewood Festival of Contemporary Music have much to be thankful for. Bravo!

I  have not thought about periods in my development as a composer. I do not think I have been striving to be more ‘transparent’, for example, in my recent compositions. In fact, I may return to my so-called ‘Second Period’ shortly. [Laughs.] Frankly, I have always simply written things that interest me … I am always just trying new things.”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
T  he role of ‘intuition’ in the compositional process? Oh! That is a question! It’s a question I’d like to transpose into something else: What is the role of intuition in conversation, as you and I are talking to each other? Things come out automatically, without our having to think too much. … I get an idea that seems to be an interesting one, and I go from there.”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
I  ntuition, yes. Composing, for me, is something like writing a letter. First you have a word, then it becomes a sentence. Pretty soon it’s a paragraph, and, eventually, what you have in front of you is what you would call a letter. Things just germinate. Composing is a process not unlike what each of us does every day—it’s like what we are living all the time.”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
T  o answer your question [of where does the idea of putting a contrabassoon against the cello part come from] ... the very different timbres and registers—I’d say I’ve always been impressed with sounds. Sounds. I remember being very impressed by gardens in Japan, the sounds of water dropping and striking pieces of bamboo: very touching, very beautiful, like a soft pizzicato. And, you know, to make the cello part sound very high, you just need some low notes. Contrabassoon!”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
M  ore than water dropping or leaves flickering—your allusion to the shimmering rubato of Liszt—I am instead trying to communicate something deeper than that [in my compositions]. It isn’t a literal naturalism exactly … but I can’t really explain it adequately. For the ‘Symphonia’, which you will hear performed tonight, I just thought about sad things and then I wrote it, that’s all. It is a vision—the sadness of Life, the joy of Life, and, in the end, a ‘balloon’: the piccolo going up. Not a big rhetorical ending. That would’ve been awful. ”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
T  he musical ideas are not the problem. So many! Even now, I am trying to keep my mind off of them! [Laughs.]”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.
I  t’s not just I, I suppose, who should express gratitude for this extraordinary Festival. If the pieces of music spoke English instead of notes, they would say, ‘Thank you’. Their gratitude this week is immense.”
  —  Elliott Carter, interview with Richard Dyer, Tanglewood, 24-JUL-2008.

 Steven Nagy, Nikon SmallWorld 2007 Microscopy Photography Competition, 10th-place winner
 Convection regime of intersecting flows, semi-stable line on pool surface
 Convection regime of intersecting flows. Robert Baska would not think this flow-line is interesting or beautiful. But it reminds me of the processes in Carter's String Quartet No. 2
 Convection regime of intersecting flows, art in nature, nature in art
 Convection regime of intersecting flows, something in nature that interests me
 Convection regime of intersecting flows makes me think of the structure of Elliot Carter's music