As usual my thinking is stimulated by one of Steve Schwartz's posts.
In this case, I will try to make a transference of an idea and see if
it works.
Writing about Beethoven, Steve says:
>Many of Beethoven's developments - indeed, the way he puts together themes
>from cells - seem to reveal a composer who worked at least in part by
>improvising: ringing one change after another on the cells. However,
>unlike many composers who work this way, Beethoven also had an incredible
>sense of architecture.
Now the last couple of days I've been listening to some twentieth century
American symphonies by Randall Thompson, Roy Harris, Aaron Copeland,
Charles Ives, etc. One distinction I can identify among them is that
some of the composers are clearly more lyrical and make creative use
of recognizable melodies (a topic discussed previously on the list).
Especially in modern music I don't think this needs to be a prerequsite
though.
However, Steve's comment helps me understand why I was having trouble with
a couple of the symphonies which are not particularly melodically based.
In particular I'm thinking of Thompson's First at the moment. The cells
are apparent --and, indeed, rather interesting. But they do not come
together into coherent themes or structures. (Or at least not one that
my ears have discerned yet.)
On reflection, this is an important characteristic of music composed from
the late Romantic period to the present. Some composers (Bruckner comes to
mind) build the cells into blocks which in turn are piled on one another to
create a great, vast landscape. Others (Beethoven) craft entire cathedrals
full of complex, interlinking connections from the cellular building
blocks. Indeed, I heard a lecture last year where the speaker discussed
the "genetic material" of his piano sonata number op. 110. A "lesser"
composer (ouch!) fails to pull this off. In earlier music it is not so
apparent because of the stricter conventions which have the effect of
making all of the period's music sound similar and familiar.
With modern music (as with modern life) it is more about individualism.
Now the challenge is to make sense of the atoms, the cells, the DNA. How
do they all fit together to create a meaningful whole? Separately they have
little, if any, meaning. Do we accept an existence that is random and
meaningless and make the best of it? Or can we accept the challenge of
creating our own meaning from the pieces? It seems to me this is both the
burden and the thrill of modern life.
In any event, lofty specuation aside, I will be listening more closely now
for evidence of architecture in modern music. And I appreciate Steve for
clarifying for me the importance of the concept as a connection between
Beethoven's time and our own.
Ed
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