Response to Babbitt and Rochberg: Accessible vs. Alien Styles of Musical Composition

Gabrielle Richardson, Contemporary Music (April 12, 2011)

The emergence of atonality and serialization in mid-twentieth century musical composition sparked a keen debate among schools of musicians and critics over whether or not music should be conceptualized intuitively or intellectually. The main arguments focus on the question of music being “accessible” to the theoretically uneducated public as opposed to being “alien” and unintelligible due to its complexity. Two particular figures came to the forefront of the debate, Milton Babbitt and George Rochberg, and indeed the debate’s origin can be directly attributed to Babbitt, for he is responsible for truly ushering serialism into the American musical heritage.

In 1958, composer, mathematician, and professor Milton Babbitt wrote an article entitled “Who Cares if You Listen?” (“The Composer As Specialist”) in which he delivered the opinion that music, in its complexity, should not be compelled to cater to the musically uneducated, or laymen, of the public sphere; rather, he defended the atonal, serial, highly scientific, mathematical, and complex nature of his music by designating musical academics and in-the-know listeners as his intended audience. Babbitt believed that “the composer’s first obligation is to his art, to the evolution of music and the advancement of new musical concepts.” In essence, he stated in the article that not only is it not necessary for all audiences to understand complex music, but that in some cases it is not meant for all audiences to understand it. In a sense, Babbitt’s position is one of both accessibility and inaccessibility: his music is accessible to those who are already musically educated, those who desire to be educated on it, or those who appreciate it for itself; his music is inaccessible in that one does need to be musically educated in order to fully understand its subtleties, and also because of the fact that public opinion hinges so much upon spoon-fed delivery of music. Babbitt was the first to show a turning inward to composing for the art itself and not for public opinion; he did care if people listened to his music, and he wanted people to experience it, but on his terms only. In essence, Babbitt represents the end of composers’ works being dependent upon public trend.

Babbitt’s article sparked much debate and in 1971 was countered by a riposte of George Rochberg, professor of music at University of Pennsylvania. Rochberg was of the opinion that music should be accessible to all listeners, no matter their level of musical training, and that flooding music with scientific and mathematical focus removes the elements of emotion and intuition in the work; he believed that atonality and serialism dehumanize the music and open up the possibility for music becoming a slave to scientific methodology rather than creative, artistic motivation. Rochberg, earlier in his career, had dabbled in twelve-tone and serial music, before reverting to more “classical” forms of Romantic and previous periods; it is interesting that he found the former to be inaccessible even though he was well educated in the style.

Of the two articles, I agree more with Babbitt’s position on compositional style, for several reasons. Firstly, I agree with Babbitt’s confident view that music need not cater to the public opinion. While I am personally of the opinion that there is not a single individual alive who cannot touched in some manner by some style of music, I do believe that certain music is, and should be, stratified, just like every other discipline in life. For example: the most common, unspecialized individual understands and uses basic math for every day calculations (to buy gas, to divvy out allowances to children, to count, to tell time, etc.), however this does not mean they enjoy, comprehend, or need to utilize advanced analytical trigonometry. Specialized forms of math are inaccessible to them because they do not know how to use it.; just because it is inaccessible does not mean that it should not be so. There is nothing wrong with the common individual not being familiar with the workings higher math; so it is with music – the musical laymen find music accessible on their level and enjoy it to the fullest, and there is no reason why every single person who listens to music should need to be theoretically educated so as to comprehend the advanced workings of atonality. This would be like telling every person who enjoys gazing at art, no matter how un-artistically inclined they may be, that they must be able to pick up a paintbrush and create the equivalent of a Botticelli in order to fully find art accessible.

Secondly, Rochberg seems to be creating a dichotomy by associating classical music with morality and twelve-tone with immorality when he speaks of serialism’s amorality, dehumanization, and irrelevance to the genuine essence and purposes of art. He plays with the position that unlimited pursuit of scientific methodology as it applies to music erodes the essential human element and results in a blindness of consequence to future music. I believe his to be a weak argument, at best, simply because of the fact that all music and compositional styles – atonality or tonality, integral serialism or minimalism, musica ficta or musique concrete – stem from the intuitive urge of a composer and are developed by intellect. To use a Cokerism: a monkey could theoretically take all the available pitches in the world, throw them up in the air, and they would come down as Beethoven’s 5^th, but it is highly improbable. The point (as I interpret it) is that there must be a process of motivation, consideration, deliberation, limitation, and execution involved in any compositional style: the motivation may be intellectual or intuitive, but either way it stems from a function of the natural human composition; the same follows for the rest of the process. When a dichotomy between moral and immoral music is formed based on whether or not it is tonal or atonal, that seems to me more dehumanizing than the actual scientific nature of the music because it ignores the fact that humans were responsible for the current system. In the case of musique concrete and such works as created with Babbitt’s synthesizer, even if the music has no human performance content or error factor, it still has the virtues of being humanly conceived and created. Only when we actually progress to machines being personally and intuitively motivated to the deliberate intellectual composition of their own music, with no human catalyst or intervention whatsoever, will I accept Rochberg’s claim that science dehumanizes music and makes it inaccessible.

I do find one point of Rochberg’s to be valid for consideration, and that is the point that focusing too much on science takes away the identity of music as an art. This is a fine line; while I do not believe that science in music as a tool or catalyst is dehumanizing to the art, I do believe that when science becomes music or vice versa is when the individual nature of the discipline is lost. Music has an emotional power the source of which science cannot identify, science can only explain the manifestations of the emotion in the listener; I think that this is the main thing that separates music from science in so far as individual disciplines, and feel that although we should not shy from using science in music for affects or developing compositional styles, we should be wary of forgetting that music has an innate emotional power that affects everyone regardless of what style it is or how mechanical it may be.

Finally, I feel that Babbitt’s article, by virtue of it being the first expression of its kind by a composer on his certain style of music, is more logically presented than Rochberg’s, because though Babbitt defends his own style of complex composing, he also matter-of-factly states that not all people are meant to be connoisseurs of his style, thus he acknowledges a dual perspective of the accessible and the alien in his article. Rochberg, on the other hand, tries to argue the accessible/alien nature of music from a philosophical and aesthetical perspective, which turns in weakly supported points without addressing any possible rebuttals. It is my personal opinion, based upon the two texts as well as my own intuition and intellect, that Babbitt’s overall position is more logical in terms of the self-actualization of music.

Set Theory, Stravinsky, and "The Rite of Spring"

PART ONE

Alright, so during the past two weeks, I've been focusing on transitioning from tonal to atonal music. My selected composer was Stravinsky (and Schoenberg, of course, but he's pretty much everywhere, so I'll focus on the Russian). When you study Stravinsky, usually, his three ballets are going to be the first works to come to mind. Naturally, I began thinking about his third ballet, "The Rite of Spring", and as I thought, I formulated three questions that seemed to pinpoint the highlights of my focus on transitional figures. They are as follows:

1) How did "The Rite of Spring" move the harmonic resources available to composers forward? Explain how the work employed the musical elements of Sound, Harmony, Melody, Rhythm, and Form.

2) What was Stravinsky's intent, in composing "The Rite"?

3) What compositional devices/methods in his second ballet "Petroushka" carried over into "The Rite"?

Essay:

Stravinsky's "The Rite of Spring" moved harmonic resources forward by manipulating an aggressive tone and dissonant chromaticism. Under the broad umbrella of sound, he employed dissonance, primitive rhythms, jarring orchestration, and folk melodies that he personally researched. Harmonically, he employs the pentatonic scale to create dissonances, and primitive chords such as the F-flat Major and E-flat dominant seventh superimposed at the beginning of "Augurs of Spring." Melodically, Stravinsky employs hauntings of traditional Russian folk music; he gives a horizontal shape to the piece, allowing the wind instruments to take the important lines, as opposed to allowing the more often employed strings to carry the melody. He also allows the pentatonic and octatonic scales to figure into the form of the melody, as can be seen when analyzing the first page in PC set theory. Rhythmically, the music is very primitive; the pulse of the piece is steady but is disrupted with off-accents. Rhythmically and structurally, as well as melodically and, to a degree, harmonically, Stravinsky employs "cutting and pasting" of cells or modular ideas: the recurrence of themes that seem out of place actually tie the music together. The form is simple, though exhibiting that same "cut and paste" arrangement. Also, Stravinsky makes transitions very quickly; the harmony tends to be very static - to me it sounds tonal, however the harmonies do not lead anywhere, thus making the piece sound even more primitive when aurally analyzing the transitions from section to section.

"The Rite" is extremely programmatic; Stravinsky's intent was to "...express in this Prelude the fear of nature before the arising of beauty" (distributed "Rite of Spring" handout, p. 440). Stravinsky used both the diatonic system and chromaticism in "Petroushka" and "The Rite"; also, the methodical modular/cellular quality of "The Rite" was carried over from "Petroushka", as was the use of ostinato, quick transitions, and rhythmic repetitions. The emphasized chord in the beginning of "The Rite" is similar to the Petroushka chord in that it is a combination of two triads. Also, the device of folk music was heavily carried over from the ballet "Petroushka" to "The Rite." In brief conclusion, Stravinsky moved music forward by drawing from his own folk tradition and by playing with his own exotic composing methods.

PART TWO

As a transition from the last blog post concerning Debussy and his work "La Cathedrale Engloutie", the following short essay sews a common thread through three of the most varied composers of the tonal/atonal transitional period. Although the compositional styles/musical languages of Debussy, Bartok, and Stravinsky are unique, if one analyzes them side by side, similarities of construction appear in the music. What is that similarity, and how might PC Set theory be an effective method of analyzing the music of all three composers?

Essay:

Debussy, Bartok, and Stravinsky all have similar musical constructions in that they all employ a static harmonic organization around a certain pitch class set or pitch class sets. For example, when one uses the PC Set theory on Debussy's "La Cathedrale Engloutie", we find that entire sections of the piece are based off of the same prime form of the pitch set, though the pitches may appear different on the manuscript. The same occurs in the Bartok "Mikrokosmos": the piece is highly organized around the (0, 2, 3, 5) prime set (Forte #4-10), and though it modulates and goes through transpositions, when employing Set theory you can easily reduce the pitches as they appear to an organized form. Stravinsky's tableaus and cells are much the same; when examining "Petroushka", one finds that similar cells of melodic/harmonic material are all based on recurring prime sets.

In essence, all three composers constructed their works around "cells" of prime pitch sets; when using PC Set theory to analyze them, we find (by considering the prime sets) highly organized structures and passages that would not otherwise be revealed (ex: I would not have discovered the "rondo" form of the "Mikrokosmos" had it not been for using PC Set theory to analyze the pitches). Set theory is effective because it allows one to completely analyze an atonal piece and determine an organization of the pitches that would not have been evident otherwise.

Sorry, know that was long. Hope it was informative...it certainly took me two weeks to get there! Until next time.

Abbreviated analysis: Debussy's "La Cathedrale Engloutie"

Abbreviated Analysis: Debussy’s “La Cathedrale Engloutie”

In terms of a segmented analysis, Debussy’s prelude “La Cathedrale Engloutie” (The Sunken Cathedral) can be divided into four main sections, with introduction and coda-type figures. The overall form of the piece follows as Introduction – Section I – Section II – Section III – Section IV – Coda.

The introduction runs from m. 1 through m. 15, and may be further divided into three sub-sections: subsection A (mm. 1 – 6), subsection B (mm. 7 – 12), and subsection C (mm. 13 – 15). Subsection A functions as an introductory presentation of the thematic idea of the piece; it also establishes a static grouping of notes (a series of rising parallel chords on the open fifth and octave) that are focused around the pentatonic collection of G-D-E-A-B pitches. The pentatonic groupings resurface throughout the piece, and can themselves be thought of as a harmonic motive. Subsection B functions as a tonal transition, modulating in key and foreshadowing the ideas in Section III; and subsection C reaffirms the rising parallel chords and the idea of a pentatonic collection of pitches.

Section I begins on m. 16 and runs through m. 27, again playing with pentatonic groupings and similar progressions of rising chords. It features a transition at mm. 22 – 27 into Section II, which itself runs from mm. 28 – 41 and features a progression of parallel triadic chords. Measures 42 - 46 begin another key transition into C# minor. Section III runs mm. 47 – 67 and explores the key of C# minor; it takes up the foreshadowing in subsection B of the introduction, then follows another key transition (mm. 68 – 71) into Section IV, which takes up the parallel triadic chords once more, in C major. The piece ends with a coda-like figure from m. 84 - 89, which, as stated in the written musical direction, is “…in the sound of the beginning”, revisiting the rising parallel chords and the same general pentatonic grouping of G-D-E-A-B.

In summary of segmentation, the piece follows an almost poetic form - Intro, A, B, A’, C, Coda; this supports my personal conception of the prelude as an atmospheric tone poem. The work is highly programmatic, and I divided the sections based on the sonorities of the piece as they changed or were varied; I also considered the segments in terms of modulations of key, motive, and texture. The key center, I believe, is C major, while there are a few modulations on transitional keys heading to and from C#. The harmonic motive of the rising parallel chords resurfaces in some form in every section of the piece; throughout, the one constant interval is the perfect octave, and though the meat of the chords change from fourths/fifths to triadic intervals depending upon the section, the octave seems to be the basis for the piece’s atmospheric, open sound. The chords become denser the further along the piece progresses, which might represent the sinking of the cathedral into the murky, heavier depths, and the sense of timbre changes as well.

Debussy takes the material and, by limiting himself to mostly parallel progressions and wandering harmonies, creates a static grouping of tonal yet nonfunctional sonorities that are varied from section to section, thus providing variety in unity throughout his prelude.

Transitional Figures: Foreshadowed Atonality in Strauss, Skryabin, and Debussy

Strauss, Skryabin, and Debussy are all considered transitional composers from tonal to atonal music. None accomplished a complete break with traditional tonality, however each experimented with variety and the new in their musical language, pushing tonality to its limits in terms of both functional harmony and systematic approach.

Strauss, in the tone poem Tod und Verklarung (Death and Transfiguration), used musical language that is still tonally centered around major and minor scales; as the leading figure of post-Wagnerian music, his music bears similarity to Wagner in that it features recurring leitmotivs (see mm. 16, 30, 41, and 52) and functional harmonies (the first page establishes a beginning key of C minor). Resolutions tend to wander, never fully cadencing (see p. 10, third system – p. 11, third system), yet unlike in Skryabin they are not static; the forward motion obscures the downbeat, propelling the rhythmic drive of the piece. The tone poem itself is structured in a subtle sonata form – Strauss has not yet embraced the permeable, unstructured form that will be seen in Debussy. Though the poem is programmatic in nature, it requires no written explanation to be able to grasp the emotional journey expressed in the movements. Strauss believed that “anything could be set to music as long as it was felt intensely”: this implies that Strauss seriously contemplated his own death, and when one combines this implication with Strauss’s own individualistic self-confidence, the interpretation may be reached that Strauss was writing a chronicle of how he saw his own death and transformation.

Skryabin, in Vers la flamme (Toward the Flame), attempted to create a brand new system of tonality, and did so by experimenting with the “mystic” (Prometheus) chord, which exploits a series of rising fourths in harmonic or melodic arrangement. The mystic chord is similar to the whole-tone scale so characteristic of Debussy’s musical language – Skryabin often used such exotic scales, making use of unstable and nonfunctional harmonies. Unlike in Strauss, whose musical language is dynamic and leading, the constant use of the mystic chord renders this piece static; because the harmonies do not lead to a specific contextual pitch, the sound and intent both become unsettled and anxious. The mystic chord does not resolve, unlike Wagner’s “Tristan” chord, which yearns to resolve to “A”; ironically, the static groupings of notes in this piece seem tonal, and because they lead nowhere, we expect harmonic progression. This piece opens with unstable expressions of tritones in the bass and a falling two-note cell in the treble, almost reminiscent of a Phrygian sigh; the two-note cell reappears throughout the work as a “desire” motive, perhaps the musical representation of the feverish “flame” Skryabin held for his second wife, Tatyana Schloezer. The work also employs the mystic chord with an added third. Texturally, Skryabin uses massive chords simultaneously containing many of the 12 notes of the chromatic scale, which reflects the mysticism of his personality as well as his fascination with rich colors and progressive sounds. Vers la flamme is limited only by the repetition of such colors; the piece loses variety through the constant emphasis of such dissonances.

Debussy, in La Cathedrale Engloutie (The Sunken Cathedral), aimed for a tonal approach that was completely free of traditional functional harmonies and form. His musical language is similar to Skryabin’s in that the harmony is quickly established as mostly static; in the first seven measures, he uses no accidentals, therefore establishing a static group of notes (a rising series of parallel pentatonic chords) that act as motivic material throughout the piece. Debussy focuses less on melody than on themes and moments, and focuses the tonality through repetition in mm. 7 – 13. This piece wanders freely in form, unlike Strauss’s tone poem, and employs fragmentation, atmospheric color effects, and similarly structured chords of the same quality in order to create an Impressionistic feel.

Of Strauss, Skryabin, and Debussy, it is my conclusion that Skryabin most consistently pushed the boundaries of tonality with his conception of the mystic chord. All three composers experimented with tonality, generally remaining within or close to the conventions of the diatonic system; however Strauss’s use of functional harmony and subjectivity were more Romantically inclined, and Debussy eventually returned to a more classic approach to tonality, leaving Skryabin to most vary traditional tonality with exotic scales, 12-note chords, and static harmonies. It is therefore my conclusion that out of the three, Skryabin is the most influential transitional composer of the period.

~Upon the Bow~

When you’re set upon the bow
And know not which way to turn,
The seas churl round about you
And down is up as up seems down
By the desolate caw of kern ~

When squalls well up to meet your charge,
Breakers on right and left,
And death serene with violent life
Permits you sail her tranquil barge
Yet leaves you destiny bereft -

How does one sort the remnant orders
Of a frigate lost at sea
When the breath of past-spelled canvas winds and
Sprays of rippling wake are all the by-gone guide at stern
To where she ought to be?

Your crew has mutinied against you
And all abandoned ship;
Left to weather storm alone,
Your only companions those silent few
Of Hobber’s murky crypt.

No log-books plot direction’s course,
No compass point the route;
St. Elmo shines forth not his fire, and
You list in scuppers of remorse,
Becalmed in damning doubt…

Then do you hide away and cower,
Defeated in your heart
As the cabin walls devour hope,
For what may light your darkest hour?
Turn then to the Charts.

The Admiral ordered them ‘special, and
The Maker slaved quite dear
So that their legends might be perfect:
So that you might take the seas in hand
And sail forth without fear.

Unfurl the sheets and trust the Charts,
Let them guide your way;
Put firm your hand unto the wheel
To steer her strong upon the mark
Through world’s end, night, and day.

Pain, nor plague, nor death may harm,
Try they no matter how.
The frigate lost once on the lee
Under regent captaincy
Returns to sail by strength of yards
And salute of steady cannon-arms,

And you step to prow, content to be
As your ship sails on to Final Sea,
Ever upon the bow.

A Chicken's Crow

Thrice you denied, twice were promised, once accepted.

On a blustery eve as thorny leaves of a tree do blow
Does, round the fire, the fateful ire of a chicken-crow
Echo through the square.
And there - jolly!-
You lose the game of Blind-Man's-Bluff
By winning Hide-and-Seek,
Finding IT, so meek...

You played by ear and broke the rules of what seemed
Yet a game for noble fools.
A sincere jester, knocked on the door
To find who was there -
On a windy, cool night in the flame-lit square
Who wondered why the chicken crossed the road.

...by God! for Pete, good sir, 'tis grand! -
You've found the answer, clasped your hands in irony understood...
Unease.
Pensive, lost with a map,
Though yesterday you trod those same steps, you now bear a load
Of doubt insecure - you witnessed the chicken cross the road,
And - in an instant - the humor ceased.

Now, standing - shivering - on the hill o'er which the bloody wind blows
From a distant garden, hearing a chicken crow,
The ashes from two nights' previous fires
A smoldering heap, the noble game's pyres;
You stare - your only companions a simple rock and a wonder in mind:

How will you cross to the other side?