Volume One includes analyses of keyboard pieces by Bach, Scarlatti, Chopin, and Beethoven, along with studies of solo violin music by Bach. Volume Two contains a major essay on Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G minor and shorter studies of works by Bach, Haydn, and Reger. Volume Three's contents include Schenker's celebrated analysis of Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony and other works.
Volume One includes analyses of keyboard pieces by Bach, Scarlatti, Chopin, and Beethoven, along with studies of solo violin music by Bach. Volume Two contains a major essay on Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G minor and shorter studies of works by Bach, Haydn, and Reger. Volume Three's contents include Schenker's celebrated analysis of Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony and other works.
The Masterwork in Music: Volume I, 1925
160
The Masterwork in Music: Volume I, 1925
160eBook
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Overview
Volume One includes analyses of keyboard pieces by Bach, Scarlatti, Chopin, and Beethoven, along with studies of solo violin music by Bach. Volume Two contains a major essay on Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G minor and shorter studies of works by Bach, Haydn, and Reger. Volume Three's contents include Schenker's celebrated analysis of Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony and other works.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780486799353 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Dover Publications |
| Publication date: | 09/15/2014 |
| Series: | Dover Books On Music: Analysis |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 160 |
| File size: | 33 MB |
| Note: | This product may take a few minutes to download. |
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The Masterwork In Music Volume I ? 1925
By Heinrich Schenker, William Drabkin, Ian Bent, William Drabkin Richard Kramer, John Rothgeb, Hedi Siegel
Dover Publications, Inc.
Copyright © 2014 Dover Publications, Inc.All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-79935-3
CHAPTER 1
THE ART OF IMPROVISATION
DIE KUNST DER IMPROVISATION {11–40}
TRANSLATED BY
RICHARD KRAMER
Our generation has squandered the art of diminution, the composing-out of sonorities [Klängen], and, like the fox in the fable, declares sour those grapes which it cannot reach. No longer able to understand the art of diminution bequeathed to us in the teaching of the masters, and the example they set, it turns ear and mind away from a fundamental law with which it can no longer cope, either creatively or in imitation.
This generation has not the slightest inkling that all its despair and impotency, the tormented quest for that which is ever different – different from the art of the master, different even from nature itself – originates simply in the incapacity for the artistic linearization of tonal concepts that are given in nature. It anaesthetizes its incapacity with the gesture of novelty, under the proud and highly suggestive title 'progress'. That became the customary dodge of every reaction from the darkness below, and it remains so today. The stabs in the back which genius must suffer perpetrated at first by a few individuals from below, then multiplied by the masses – simulate a proud revolution, certain of victory. But the perpetrators overlook that genius, unlike emperor or prince, cannot be deposed by the caprice of the masses, that in the eternally aristocratic realm of genius the methods of political revolution are without value. Its revolutions here must remain mere fictions, the imaginary movements of non-professionals, arranged and incited by journalists and book-writers from outside, entirely without effect and outside the true history of the intellect. Finally even this self-induced deafening must fail, for it never transforms incapacity into ability: Naturam non expellas furca.
And thus it comes about today that from every corner where novelty and progress are 'manufactured', veritable intellectual outbacks, shrieks of a passionate promise for the future resound: this generation would like at the least to stimulate the next towards some decisive artistic novelty, but it feels itself incapable of accomplishing even this deed. If, however, the promise of a deed counts for very little in the political world – revolutions promise much and hold to nothing – how much less do such promises mean in the realm of art!
Thus our generation dwells not even in its own present. It no longer demands of itself the strength to pay its debts to the great masters – and thus the strength to receive the past in itself, which is the presupposition for all virtuous life in the present. Nothing really remains for it but to depend solicitously on the future of the next generation – {12} why ever should it presume to anticipate the work of that generation? – and, in so doing, does battle against an apparition of stagnation. It does not suspect that it itself is the apparition, and that all the effort that it expends to produce something new and to oppose stagnation is not nearly sufficient to rise even a step above the masses.
As the past so often teaches, the few individual representatives of the immutable authority from above remain, and all the more proudly, after the continually repeated reactions of those from below. An authority from above can never be produced from below. As little as the living are able to comprehend death, so little can the spiritually dead comprehend the spiritual life of a genius. And yet this remains to be demonstrated.
* * *
Music is the living motion of tones in the space given in Nature: the composing-out (the rendering in melodic line, the linearization) of the Nature-given sonority (see Harmonielehre, p.281/p.211; 'Freier Satz'; 'Elucidations'). The law of all life, the motion which, as procreation, issues forth beyond the boundaries of individual being, penetrates into man in this sonority which Nature has preordained in his hearing. Everything in music is born of this motion, of this procreative force. Yet all procreation is bestowed through the spontaneous grace of life-bestowing Nature. Those whom Nature has sent into the world unfit for procreation: what will they accomplish against her? What does this most wretched of generations, with all its insolence born in delusion and its dogmatically demanding temperament, want in its current alignment against Nature when she has, so to speak, denied it its spiritual loins?
Consequently, it is entirely remote from my thought to oblige the caprice of man when I speak here of the art of improvisation according to the testimony in C.P.E. Bach's theoretical and practical works, and from the examples by Handel (examples which can, of course, be multiplied endlessly). I want only to offer a modest contribution to the art of diminution, which is the principal agent in the free fantasy, and at the very least to alert the ear to the inner laws of diminution in order to protect it from the stagnation induced in precisely those who speak out most loudly against it.
I
Diminution in its entirety surely does not allow of a single theory, for the subject matter is too vast: no theorist could furnish a method in {13} diminution technique for all genres of composition. Accordingly, even C.P.E. Bach is satisfied with a minimum, with the art of diminution in the free fantasy, as presented in his Versuch über die wahre Art, das Clavier zu spielen, II, 41. It was the opportunity provided by just this topic that prompted the great master of tone and word to speak out, and he is very clearly conscious of this, as follows from the first two paragraphs of the chapter. They read:
[§1] A fantasy is called free when it contains no regular distribution of bars, and modulates to more keys than is usual in other kinds of pieces which are either composed or improvised in a regular metre.
[§2] For these latter pieces, a knowledge of the entire range of composition is required: for the former, merely a basic understanding of harmony and some rules governing its disposition are adequate. Both types demand natural ability, the fantasy in particular. It is possible that one who has studied composition with success, and has demonstrated his skill with the pen, will nevertheless improvise poorly. On the other hand, I believe that one can always predict with certainty good progress in composition for one who has a gift for improvisation, provided that he does not begin his studies too late, and that he writes profusely.
Still, I recommend that one read again what Bach says on the elaboration of fermatas (Versuch, 1, 2, §9) as well as on the elaboration of cadenzas (1, 3, §30). Although diminution at a fermata or in a cadenza plays a different role than it does in the free fantasy, these explanations are nevertheless of great value for a general theory of diminution.
* * *
§§3, 6 and 8–11 are concerned with tonal areas in the free fantasy. §3 even advances the notion of a principal key for the fantasy:
A free fantasy consists of varied harmonic passages which can be executed in all kinds of figures and divisions [Zergliederungen]. In doing so, one must establish a key with which to begin and end. Although no metre is established in such fantasies, the ear nevertheless demands a certain proportion in the alternation and duration of the harmonies among themselves, as we shall hear further on, and {14} the eye a relation in the note values, so that one's ideas can be written down ...
Bach grasps the necessity of the tonic more pointedly in §6:
When one does not have much time to display one's craft in extemporizing, then one must not venture too far into other keys, for one will have to break off very soon. And yet the principal key must not be abandoned too soon at the outset, nor recaptured too late at the end. At the beginning, the principal key must prevail for a long while, so that one is certain to hear what will follow from it. And one must dwell in it again for a long while before the close, so that the listener will be prepared for the end and the principal key will impress itself in the memory.
Thus Bach insists on a principal key to be used in equal proportion in longer and shorter fantasies alike. And if, like Bach, one takes the scale degrees of the tonic for 'keys' (see below), then one might already extract from §6 a theory of tonality.
§8 is concerned with the interpolation of auxiliary chords that simulate a key. One notes in particular the expressive turn of phrase: 'not truly formal cadences' [nicht eben förmliche Schlußcadenzen]. The paragraph reads:
In fantasies where there is ample time to be heard, one may modulate more extensively to other keys, where truly formal cadences are not always required; they occur at the end, and at most once in the middle. It is sufficient for the leading note [semitonium modi] of the key to which one is modulating to be present in the bass or in some other voice. This note [Intervall] is the key to all genuine modulations and the distinguishing feature of them. When it lies in the bass, the seventh-, the sixth- or the 5 chord results (a). But it may also be found in dispositions which arise from the inversion of those chords (b). It is one of the beauties of improvisation that, in the midst of a fantasy, one can feign modulation to another key by a formal cadence and then take a different turn. This and other judicious deceptions make a fantasy attractive. But they must not be used to excess, thereby obscuring what is natural.
I repeat: when Bach speaks even in such instances of 'other keys', one must not be deceived by his language. The ground-plan of a fantasy adduced by him in § 15 indicates clearly that by 'keys' [Tonarten] he describes a composing-out of scale degrees; in any case the term is not defined with systematic precision. That is confirmed in the {15} following paragraph, where Bach speaks of 'most closely related' and 'somewhat more remote' keys, which however are designated in the course of the discussion by 'fifth', 'sixth' and so forth. §9 reads:
In a free fantasy one can modulate from the tonic to the most closely related keys, to those somewhat more remote, and indeed to all other keys as well. As little as one ought to undertake strange or frequent modulations to a wide range of keys in strictly measured pieces, a fantasy that adheres to the most closely related keys sounds naïve. As is well known, the closest modulations in the major keys are to the fifth degree with the major third and the sixth degree with the minor third. From minor keys, one moves first of all to the third degree with the major triad and to the fifth degree with the minor triad. When one wishes to modulate to more distant keys, in the major keys this will be to the second and third degrees with the minor triad and to the fourth degree with the major triad. From minor keys, one modulates to the fourth degree with the minor third and to the sixth and seventh degrees with the major third. All the other keys are remote, and can be used with equal effect in a free fantasy, even though they stand at varying distances from the tonic ...
§10 is devoted to chromaticism:
... When one wishes to modulate more firmly to the more distant keys, and not merely to touch upon them superficially, it is not sufficient simply to reach for the semitonium modi in the belief that one has now arrived where one has wanted to go, and that one may move on at once to other keys. Rather, one must gradually prepare the ear for the new key by means of a few other interpolated harmonic progressions, so that it is not disagreeably surprised. There are keyboard players who understand chromaticism and can justify its use, but only very few who know how to execute chromaticism agreeably, relieved of its crudeness. We note generally, and in particular in the examples given below, that in those exercises in which one begins to stray rather far from the established key, one must dwell rather longer [in the harmonic transition] than in the others ...
Bach demands a more precise justification even in the deployment of chromaticism: not even in the free fantasy will he tolerate the self-deception 'that one has now arrived where one has wanted to go' simply by having seized upon the semitonium modi.
{16} In §11 the chord of the diminished seventh is now contemplated:
To arrive at the most distant keys in a yet more concise and nevertheless agreeably surprising manner, no chord is as convenient and fruitful as the seventh-chord with the diminished seventh and diminished fifth, for by inversion and by enharmonic changes a great number of harmonic transformations can be undertaken ...
* * *
Finally we come to §§13–15 [§§12–14 in the first edition], the most important in the chapter, in which diminution will be treated in its essence. §13 [§12] reads:
The beauty of variety is also felt in the fantasy, in which all kinds of figures and all manner of good execution must appear. Nothing but runs, nothing but sustained or broken full chords, tires the ear. The passions will be neither excited nor soothed, whereas it is precisely to these ends that a fantasy ought to be put to best advantage ...
The expression 'all kinds of figures' here signifies more than it appears to say. Bach expresses it in the demand for an alternation of figures in general, which I designate 'change of diminution'. (See 'Freier Satz' and below, p.? [sic].) A change of diminution of this kind renders important service even in the free fantasy: by antithesis it divides and unifies at one and the same time, and thus serves the unity of the whole as well (see Tonwille 2, pp. 17 and 36).
What C.P.E. Bach understands by 'all manner of good execution' is to be gathered from the Versuch, 1, 3, §3:
The elements of performance are loudness and softness of the notes, their touch and velocity [Schnellen]; the execution of legato, staccato, vibrato and arpeggiation; sustaining, dragging and pressing ahead. Anyone who uses these things not at all, or at the wrong time, is a bad performer.
One must not seek in Bach's word 'passions' [Leidenschaften] what certain aestheticians of the doctrine of affections bring to it. One need only recall part 1, 3, §13 to understand that he means by it simply the consequences of a change of diminution: pure musical effects which have nothing in common with the amateurishly misunderstood and so grossly exaggerated ideas of the aestheticians. For Bach, even the individual motives of diminution are really distinct affects, distinct passions, so greatly does he feel their unifying and characteristic properties, and at the same time their contrast to one another. Similarly we read in §29 of the same chapter {17} the sentence: 'Nevertheless one notes that dissonances are generally played louder, consonances softer, for the former emphatically elevate the passions and the latter soothe them.' For Bach, a dissonance even in passing signifies a 'passion' – and from this it follows that in §13 of the chapter on the free fantasy Bach will have wanted to say nothing more than that the creator of a fantasy must have taken pains to alternate motives, in order to produce tension and to transmit it to the listener. Nothing more. And yet how much that signifies may be gauged by the desolate times in which we live, in which even this minimum has become unattainable.
§13 continues:
... When using broken chords one must move neither too hurriedly nor too unevenly (a) from one harmony to the next. Only in chromatic progressions can occasional exceptions to this rule be made to good effect...
(Compare this to the turn of phrase in §3: 'a certain proportion in the alternation and duration of the harmonies among themselves'.) And further:
One must not arpeggiate the harmony continuously in a uniform colour. In addition, one may at times move with both hands from a low register to a higher one; this can also be done entirely with the left hand, the right hand remaining in its [natural] register. This manner of performance is suited to the harpsichord, for it produces an agreeable alternation of a synthetic forte and piano. Anyone who possesses the skill does well if he avoids the continuous use of the natural harmonies exclusively, and instead deceives the ear now and then; but if his powers are limited in this respect, a varied and competent performance incorporating all kinds of figures must make agreeable those harmonies which, when played evenly, would sound plain. Most dissonances can be doubled in the left hand. The ear tolerates the octaves that arise when the harmony is thus reinforced. Doubling the fifth, on the contrary, is to be avoided. The fourth, when in company with the fifth and ninth, and the ninth in any case should not be doubled.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Masterwork In Music Volume I ? 1925 by Heinrich Schenker, William Drabkin, Ian Bent, William Drabkin Richard Kramer, John Rothgeb, Hedi Siegel. Copyright © 2014 Dover Publications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
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Table of Contents
The three volumes of The Masterwork in Music present complete English translations of major works by Austrian music theorist Heinrich Schenker, one of the twentieth century's leading figures in the field. First published in German between 1925 and 1930, these essays represent Schenker's greatest writings in analysis prior to the 1935 definitive formulation of his theory of music in Der freie Satz (Free Composition). This new publication of the long-awaited English translation, which first appeared in the distinguished Cambridge University Press edition, provides a valuable resource for scholars. Editorial annotations and elucidations by Dr.William Drabkin and his translators offer additional insights.
Volume One includes analyses of keyboard pieces by Bach, Scarlatti, Chopin, and Beethoven, along with studies of solo violin music by Bach. Volume Two contains a major essay on Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G minor and shorter studies of works by Bach, Haydn, and Reger. Volume Three's contents include Schenker's celebrated analysis of Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony and other works.
Dover (2014) republication of The Masterwork in Music, A Yearbook, Volume I, originally published by Cambridge University Press, 1994.
See every Dover book in print at
www.doverpublications.com