Archive for July, 2009

Symphony No. 1, 2nd movement

Saturday, July 25th, 2009

I’ve long felt that a hallmark of the German symphonic tradition, beginning with Haydn and Mozart, is a degree of equality between the wind and string sections of the orchestra.  I cannot imagine writing an orchestral piece of any size that doesn’t exploit this split of the orchestra into two relatively equal (in terms of power) groupings.  It isn’t that Austro-German composers never use mixed scoring, it’s just that they seem to prefer block approaches.  This is quite apparent in in Mahler’s second movement here, which fills the role of the scherzo and trio.

The first presentation of the melody (A major), after a rollicking string introduction, is in the winds accompanied by strings.  After a transition, the melody appears a second time in the strings, with the winds as accompaniment.  A second theme then, first in the dominant (E major), then in D major.  The infamous Mahler instruction, “Schalltrichter auf!” makes its appearance.  It makes the oboes and clarinets raucous, and the horns, although stopped (gestopft) more cutting. 

In m. 56 we see a two-sixteenths-eighth rhythm against triplets–again, the roughness that results is part of the charm of this movement.

Rehearsal 11, m. 108 brings the scherzo back to the original key with an interesting “winding down” effect, as though Mahler were imitating a wind-up record player, though I wonder if he had heard such a thing.  Direct repetition, with slight changes in scoring, and then we come to the Trio, in F major, by a common tone modulation (do in A becomes mi in F).

The trio theme is derived from the scherzo theme.  Again, the wonderful economy of material we heard in the first movement.  Then through G major to C major, and a second common-tone modulation to return to the home key (mi in C becomes sol in A). 

The return of the trio material demonstrates, I think, Mahler’s reason for using seven horns in this piece.  If strings and woodwinds constitute two roughly equal groupings, seven horns bring into the realm of possibility a third group, and we see it here at rehearsal 26, where the scherzo melody returns in the horns instead of the woodwinds.  This recapitulation is dominated by the massed horn sound that creates thrilling moments whenever it appears.

The heavy brass is still not used in an independent way, as a massed choir, but does provide a fourth group that could balance the other three; later composers (led by Mahler) would find that percussion could provide a fifth such group.

As is typical of the late Romantics, the return of the Scherzo is shorter than its first appearance, but more intense, mostly through scoring.

What can this movement tell us about larger forms?  It is one of the shortest in Mahler’s symphonies, and built mostly through repetition of swathes of material, not through development–on the whole, quite typical of the designs of minuets, and later scherzi, in German music.  The transition back to the tonic in the first scherzo is wonderful–we can all learn from its simplicity, its humor, its effectiveness.  Building a form not through outright repetition but by changing scoring is a useful device, one I have used.

The introduction of the horns as a “third section” is intriguing as well.  I find that I tend more toward block scoring than mixed in my own writing as well, but it seems more appropriate in the context of this dance movement than it did in the first movement, which is much more developmental in nature.  Does anyone know if Mahler is the first composer to call for massed horns in a symphony?  We see eight horns (if you include the Wagner tubas) in Wagner, of course… but in symphonic writing?

Symphony No. 1, first movement

Thursday, July 16th, 2009

Since there are four movements in Mahler’s first symphony, I’m giving myself about two weeks on each one.  Truthfully, I’ve been working on the first movement and the scherzo over the last couple of weeks, and I’ll keep coming back to this movement, but I want to get some of my thoughts down right now.

The opening sonority seems to always elicit comments, because it’s just reall interesting–every A on the piano in the strings, mostly using harmonics.  Myorchestration students will be flustered to know that Mahler simply indicates that the notes are to be played as harmonics and lets the players figure out how to produce them.  For shame!   Although, they are all octaves of open strings, so it isn’t as crucial, I suppose.

Then, this falling fourth motive–many of the themes in this movement begin with the falling fourth, and it is like Mahler from the beginning is telling us what to expect in this movement.  The beginning evokes night to me–especially night in August when the cicadas are out making lots of noise.  To what extent is this about a day in the life of the artist?  The fourths become a chain of notes–in bassoons and oboes in m. 7.  The first time, this theme is presented, the double reeds hold the penultimate note, Bb over the multi-octave A while the clarinets give a distant fanfare.  By measure 13, when the Bb resolves deceptively to B-natural, Mahler has given us the bulk of the material he uses in this movement. 

Dr. Russel Mikkelson, the director of bands at Ohio State, likes to say that composers are like bad poker players in that they show us their cards at the beginning of each hand.  I would amend that by saying that *good* composers do this. 

The second statement of the falling fourth theme goes directly to its goal–the A.  Fantastic orchestration–piccolo, oboe, English horn and bass clarinet give a very interesting four-octave spread.

The offstage trumpets bring the fanfare closer–over the next few pages, the movement gathers steam–cavalry fanfares and cuckoo calls.  The falling fourths theme begins to metastasize, virtually falling all over itself beginning in m. 49.  As we begin to gather strength for the “Hauptzeitmass” (principal tempo), a snaky, chromatic line in the cellos and basses pull the pitch center from A (the dominant) toward D, the tonic key of the piece.

I am amazed at how much of this movement emphasizes the key of A.  I haven’t done a measure-by-measure census, but it feels as though there is more music in A than in D.  Is this harmonic scheme part of what allows Mahler to write a larger scale piece?  When you write in the tonic, you can end at any time, because you are home, but in the dominant, you are always having to get home.

I’m beginning to get a feel for Mahler’s use of repetition as well.  The melody that begins at m. 62 (just before the repeat sign) appears in more or less complete form eight times before the end of the repeated section.

I’ve been struggling to deal with the large repeat here as well.  It performs much the same function as the first division in a binary movement–introduces the tonic key (which we haven’t yet heard), and moves to the dominant (which we’ve heard a lot).  I think I’ve decided that it does a great deal to balance the movement.  Mahler isn’t a composer we associate with formal balance the way we do, say, Hadyn, but I have no doubt that “successful project” (Persichetti’s phrase) has a great deal to do with balance.  In order to balance the fairly extended opening, Mahler needs a fairly long fast section at this point.  However, given the development that is to come, it would be a mistake to simply present theme after theme at the outset.

Fantastic orchestrational moments:

  • the bass clarinet counterline against the first presentation of the song theme (m. 64ff)
  • the very cool unison E5s in measure 88-90 in cello harmonics, harp and solo oboe.  What an amazing effect!
  • the momentary parallel fourths between violins, flute and oboe in measure 98

The developmental section after the repeat is back in the slow tempo (beginning m. 163).  The flute echoes a motive pulled from the song theme, in the manner of yet another bird call. (Messiaen was not the first composer to listen to birds!).  A lovely transition to F major, brought about by the ‘cellos use of a cell from the main theme, first using F# (m. 170), then F-natural ((m. 176).  The octave-As from the beginning are shown to be a common tone to the new key.

Then–I love the use of the lowest strings of the harp in m. 189–I’ve borrowed this effect in my own music.  The horns have a melancholy little tune in D minor, which sets up a return to the home key, although the bass remains F-natural.  The return to D-major is accomplished by an inverted augmented sixth chord, which makes the D-major horn call at 207 that much fresher.  Again, we see a fourth, only this time rising instead of falling.

D-major leads to A major (m. 227), then C# (later enharmonically spelled as Db, at m.243).  Harmonically, this is a development section, but there is also much non-developmental activity–repetition and exposition of new themes.  In addition, we keep expecting the “song theme” from the repeated section, but it keeps getting put off. 

I keep wanting to think that this is a sonata-form movement, but I just can’t find the evidence.  I would like to suggest that there is a sonata principle at work here, but that Mahler has left sonata form behind.  Any takers?

The song theme finally reappears at m. 283.  There is a sort of recapitulation happening, but not in the right key (we are still in F major!).  Nonetheless, one by one, the themes come back, and even the keys.

The climax gives us first the fanfare material and then a glorious forte version of the D major horn melody, both in their original keys.  The crescendo into this moment reminds me greatly of what Beethoven would write just before the triumphant return of the main theme.  However–the preparatory material is tonally ambiguous, instead of the “standing on the dominant” that typically ends Beethoven’s sonata forms.  The fanfare material is in D, but over the octave As again. 

It is as though the movement has come full circle–the fourths motive has carried us through, and the remainder of the piece is a final reminder of the song theme.  The ending always feels abrupt, but of course there is plenty more to come.

July Fourth Thoughts

Saturday, July 4th, 2009

It looked to be a fairly slow 4th of July around here, since Becky is back in Ohio, and we aren’t even allowed to grill out at our apartment complex.  I’m not a big fan of blowing my fingers off, so that pretty much leaves out the other favorite activity here in Guymon, setting off fireworks.  That seems to happen to me a lot.  Since high school, when I would march with the band in the morning and work at the band concession stand in the evening, I’ve had to work, or had other commitments.  My last year living in Elyria, I was working eight hour days in my apartment on a freelance arranging project that ended up paying for Becky’s and my honeymoon.  I did pull a chair over to the fourth floor window and watched the local fireworks display.  This year, I can hear them, but I can’t see them.  The first time I ever heard Ives’ Variations on America  was on the way home from work at midnight on July 3/4 on the radio.  A life-changing experience.

This year, I heard that former President George W. Bush was going to be speaking in Woodward, the closest town of any size that is still in Oklahoma.  The drive is 120 miles through the Panhandle–land that was mostly once part of the Dust Bowl and still hasn’t been much developed (not that that’s a bad thing).  The road is straight as an arrow, and I’ve done the drive several times–it’s the best way to get to Oklahoma City from where we are.

At any rate, somehow, Woodward, Oklahoma was able to get Dub-ya to come speak at their July 4th festival, Let Freedom Ring.  According to NPR, they were expecting the largest crowd since he left office.  His speech was nothing spectacular.  For a while at the beginning, I thought he was just going to do “material” a la Jerry Seinfeld for forty minutes, but he did get down to business after a while with a decent message about patriotism being something we can all take on.  He seemed more relaxed, at ease and, dare I say, happier than I’ve heard him sound in the last eight years, which is to be expected.  He spoke with a “just-folks” mannerism that the “just-folks” in Woodward loved.  I really think the arena was filled with the kind of people that keep him living in Texas.  No foundation office in New York for him.  Still, If he hadn’t been a former president, the highlight would have been the 77th US Army Band from Fort Sill.  I could have stayed for country music and fireworks, but the drive home loomed ahead.

But he is a former president.  So I think that’s why I drove 240 miles today.  Because in the United States of America, you can hear a former president speak.  In a monarchy, there are no former kings, and in a dictatorship there are no former dictators.  Every four or eight years we simply hand power to another person without civil war or executions or “disappearances.”  A former president goes back to private life and does private things.  Presidents Clinton and Carter have tried to leverage their post-presidency appeal with interesting results in one case and Nobel Prize-winning results in another.  Others have simply gone into quiet retirement–Nixon, Ford, Reagan–for personal (or not so personal) reasons.  One likes to jump out of airplanes on his birthday (Bush, Sr.).

But the beauty is that, like George Washington, they leave power behind, and no one has to look over their shoulder wondering if a former president is going to try to come back using elements of the government that have remained loyal.  And no former president has to look over his shoulder for a government assassin.  And I, a person who, admittedly, doesn’t really see eye-to-eye with much about his administration, can go hear the man speak without fear of retribution (except funny looks from people who don’t understand why I would want to go hear the man speak).

So in my own (admittedly, strange) way, it was a very interesting and unique way to observe Independence Day.  There have only been six American presidents during my life, and now I’ve been able to hear two of them speak live (I’ll never get to 100% on that score, since I missed Reagan).  One (Clinton) was at a giant stadium with 50,000 or so people who just wanted him to finish so they could get their diplomas.  And today, I think most of those people were glad to see the former president.  Some of that is politics, and some of it is culture.  I would like to think that any former president would get a similar response in this part of the world.  Perhaps that is naive.  Perhaps it’s part of what makes our country a good place–not perfect, but a fair deal better than a lot of other places.

From Beethoven to Mahler

Wednesday, July 1st, 2009

It’s the new fiscal year in many states, as I was reminded on NPR this morning.  It’s a big day for me in my intellectual life, too.  I have completed my survey of Beethoven’s piano sonatas, and have moved on to the nine Mahler Symphonies.  Hopefully, at least a few people will be taking this journey with me, one symphony every two months, from now until the end of 2010.  I’m writing these entries on my blog, www.martiandances.com/blog, but I’ve also fed the blog to Facebook, where it will appear as a “Note.”  Feel free to comment on either location, although since I’m in charge of the blog, and Facebook is in charge of Facebook…

I dropped my wife off at the airport today, which meant a two-hour drive home from Amarillo by myself.  As I pulled out of town, I dropped my reference recording of Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 (Bernstein with Amsterdam) into the CD player, and I got to thinking about some of the differences between Beethoven and Mahler.

Of course, there is more than half a century between Beethoven’s last sonata (Op. 111 from 1822) and Mahler’s first complete symphony (finished in 1888).  In that period are Schumann, Chopin, Mendelssohn (and his Bach revival), Smetana and the first round of nationalists, Liszt, most of Brahms and (the big one, at least in my received wisdom) Wagner.  I think it might be safe to say that for Mahler, the two most influential figures are Beethoven, the first composer for whom a symphony was always a major artistic statement, and Wagner.

Charles Rosen suggests that the Classical style was informed, at its root, by the dramatic and comic developments in operatic music.  It seems quite possible to me that for Mahler, who earned his daily bread conducting opera, not symphonic music, that we must look in many ways to the developments in opera by Weber (whose final opera Die Feen (or is it Der Drei Pintos?  help!) Mahler attemped to complete) and Wagner (whose operas Mahler helped to introduce in Vienna and which he guarded jealously from his assistant conductors throughout his career).

I’m particularly interested in how Mahler creates the scale of these works.  As a composer, I don’t feel confident about writing long movements, and I want to develop this ability.  Some observations based on my re-hearing of the “Titan:”

  • Mahler sometimes employs sectional forms, which allows (nay, demands) the repetition of vast swathes of music.  The second and third movements of the present piece are indicative of this.
  • Where Beethoven is more prone to repetition (and sequential writing) on the motivic level, Mahler seems more likely to repeat thematically.  Again, repeating long(er) passages is the result.  By comparison, my music repeats much less frequently than either of these two composers, although much more often than, say, Schoenberg in his Erwartung period.  The trick isn’t repetition–it is meaningful repetition.
  • In general, Mahler’s music is much more melody-driven than Beethoven’s (and mine).  This will be an excellent study for me, as it will give me a chance to see whether in the face of additional evidence I still truly believe that rhythm is of greater importance than melody or harmony.
  • It would be apples and oranges to compare the orchestration of Beethoven’s piano sonatas to Mahler’s symphonies.  That said, even over the noise from the “loud” pavement on US 287, I have begun to make notes of effects I want to look at more closely.  We are so fortunate to have recordings right at our fingertips… I heard a string passage this afternoon that I can’t wait to dig into, and the beginning of the fourth movement is a perfect illustration of when and why to use unmeasured tremolo in the strings.
  • Again… loud pavement makes for bad listening, but are Mahler’s harmonies in this piece a great deal simpler than Beethoven’s?  This is why I’m doing this project.  As many times as I’ve listened to this piece, I haven’t even begun to hear it.

I want to throw a question out there that was inspired by a liner note I once read about this piece:  Is Mahler, in writing this symphony, actually using collage (or even pastiche) techniques?  Many of the melodies (especially in the first movement) are derived from Mahler’s earlier works (particularly, Des Knabben Wunderhorn).  Other melodies are folk tunes, and still others bear resemblances to canonical works.  Is Mahler’s intent to somehow document a sonic realm of the imagination?  Is this a viable way to understand this piece?