Time's Effect on the Material
In the classic cartoon, Road Runner and his nemesis, Wile
E. Coyote, are marvels of endurance. No matter how violent
their confrontations, both are impervious to harm. "Beep,
beep"--and the two adversaries are ready to renew their
struggle afresh. Time has no lasting effect on either of them.
Similarly, we rely on computer memory being absolute: no
matter how we alter a document, unsaved it returns to its
original form; our applications are intended to boot up
intact. Movies and recordings create permanent records of
otherwise perishable performances. Symbols and monuments such
as the bald eagle and the Lincoln Memorial stand as enduring
emblems of liberty. We turn to timeless spiritual ideas for
consolation and inspiration.
But for so much else in our experience, time's force is
perpetual and relentless: It is constantly chiseling away,
creating new forms. Transformation may be sudden or slow,
obvious or hidden, but it is inexorable. Cloud watching is a
testimony to nature's restless inventiveness. "Planned
obsolescence" is built into many consumer items. Living
things are particularly vulnerable: Our bodies are in a
continual state of transformation. Even human memory is not absolute, but a recreation
that conjures up the past for us with inevitable distortions,
evasions, substitutions and changing emphases. Try as we
might to hold on to the past, it flees -- that is a
fundamental condition of living.
Whether time has an effect on the material is a crucial issue
explored in a piece of music. Is the musical material able to
recuperate itself exactly? Does it ever return in its original
form? Or is it destined to be continually impermanent and
volatile?
Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray is a
powerful allegory about time's effect. The title character is
able to hold off the ravages of time, outliving lovers, rivals
and friends without the slightest hint of aging. His secret
is a portrait, painted by a diabolical artist and kept hidden
in a locked room. The portrait grows old in his stead,
enabling Dorian Gray to survive unchanged. When the painting
is finally discovered, its image has become horrifically
decrepit and menacing. Once the painting has been destroyed,
time's effect catches up with Dorian Gray: He is reduced to a
pile of ash.
When musical material returns with little or no change, it
speaks to the material's persistence and durability. The
material is not vulnerable to time: No matter what has
happened in the interim, the music is able to reconstitute
itself exactly. It is stable enough to endure. The longer the
passage that is restored unchanged, the greater the effect of
stability.
Example 1
Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 opens with a
confident thematic statement by the orchestra.
The movement gradually builds in intensity, culminating in a
wild, flamboyant harpsichord solo.
The harpsichord seems to bring the music to a precarious
cliff, ready to fall off. But it rescues itself and leads
back to a return of the main theme.
In spite of the tension of the harpsichord solo, the music has
managed to regain its equilibrium. Time has not caused
lasting damage: in a moment of great affirmation, the opening
music is reclaimed in its original form.
Example 2
Stravinsky's Elegy for JFK, with text by
W.H. Auden, offers a more unexpected and subtle example.
The piece opens with the line of text, "When a just
man dies,/Lamentation and praise/Sorrow and joy, are
one."
The music then continues with little exact repetition, in brief,
haiku-like statements.
At the work's close, Stravinsky reprises the opening line exactly.
The musical return is striking; it adds an undeniable
emphasis and a timeless quality to Stravinsky's eulogy.
Framing the piece with the text repetition was the
composer's decision; in Auden's manuscript, this line of
text occurs only at the end.
Because music is a performance art, even an "exact" return is
an idealization. On paper, the music's content may be
identical. But even the most expert musician cannot precisely
duplicate his or her performance identically; inevitably,
there will be subtle variations.
Furthermore, you, the listener have changed. You have
experienced the intervening music; just the fact that the
return is already familiar, rather than something fresh, gives
it a different quality. Viewing the fateful Game 6 of the
1986 World Series on videotape is not the same as seeing it
the night it happened. The events may be identical, but they
have a different significance when viewed in retrospect.
Nevertheless, these nuances of performance and perception are
subsumed within the identity of content and design. When a
musical passage returns exactly, the emphasis is on the
material's endurance and transcendence.
On the other hand, if the musical material returns with
significant changes, then time has had an effect. The music
is not stable enough to reconstitute itself exactly: It is
evanescent, transitory, and elusive. It
participates in time: the intervening
action "weathers" the material, propelling it in new directions.
It is a music of becoming, of
irreversible change and progress.
Example 3
Please listen to the opening of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9. The excerpt fades out at the arrival of a contrasting, more lyrical section.
About five minutes later, this opening passage is reprised. The excerpt once again fades out at the arrival of the contrasting section.
This time, time has had an effect: Instead of a gradual buildup, the return begins at once with the full orchestra at a very loud dynamic. The harmonic tension is intensified. Most interestingly, the return is compressed: It takes exactly half the amount of time as the original. This is an inescapable fact, verifiable by the clock. Yet many listeners, even professional musicians, do not recognize this consciously at first. This is the benefit of analysis: It helps make us more aware of what we are all hearing.
Example 4
Morton Feldman’s Coptic Light for orchestra begins with a static, very repetitive passage.
Its sounds and musical rhetoric are far removed from Beethoven’s.
Nearly twenty minutes later, the opening is revisited.
Once again, time has had an effect. At the reprise, the upper strings revive the two-note pattern that they played at the opening: This is what creates the impression of return.
However, the winds originally played similar patterns to the strings. At the return, their music consists only of isolated single attacks. There is also a murmuring underlying rhythm that was not present at the opening. The overall result is of an incomplete reminiscence, because there are more disconnected attacks and “bubbling” activity underlying the upper strings.
Measuring Time's Effect
Short-Term and Long-Term Returns
The distance between original and return is measured in the
amount of intervening music. If hardly any music separates
the related passages, the wait is parenthetical; if a great
deal happens, the wait is more significant. Clock-time can
be a helpful guide, but only in the context of the piece's
specific proportions: a minute is negligible in an opera,
but nearly a lifetime in a bagatelle.
If the wait is long and the changes are subtle, progress is
occurring very gradually.
If, on the other hand, the wait is brief and the changes
are dramatic, the material is particularly volatile. The
more volatile the material, the less likely that it will
ever be recuperated in its original form.
Example 5
For instance, consider the opening of Beethoven's
Bagatelle, opus 126, no. 1. The main theme
is presented. It is then immediately repeated in its
entirety. The repetition is embellished: it is more
rhythmically active and reaches higher in register.
Change is immediate, making the repetition more dynamic
and progressive.
Compare the Beethoven to the following passage from Igor
Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. In the excerpt,
a ruminative melody is presented. Then, after a short
wait, the melody returns.
Once again, the transformed version follows closely on the
heels of the original. In this case, the changes are
almost cataclysmic! The theme is presented more boldly and
in a higher register. The texture is ferocious and
agitated, with rapid rhythmic figuration and more complex,
strident harmony.
In both the Beethoven and the Stravinsky, the volatility of
the material is a signal that it will never be recovered in
its original form. Local impermanence makes large-scale
stability less plausible. If a musical idea is so restless
that it can barely "hold onto itself" when it is immediately
repeated, it makes it less likely that the music will ever be able
to recuperate itself exactly.
When the original passage and its return are further apart,
time's effect may be a reflection of the original's inherent
stability or volatility. But it also reflects the power of
the intervening music to leave its mark. In The
Odyssey, Ulyssses' tribulations and love affairs do
not mar his triumphant reunion with his family: He is able
to reclaim his wife and son. On the other hand, experience
is not so kind to King Lear. During the play's first scene,
he banishes his most faithful daughter, Cordelia. They are
eventually reunited. But the catastrophic events that have
occured in the interim cannot be undone: His beloved
daughter dies in his arms.
Example 6
The second movement of Schubert's Double Cello
Quintet opens with a spare, nearly motionless
texture. Melody and harmony move patiently and
deliberately.
This section is followed by a strongly contrasting B-section,
which is far more agitated and turbulent. The rhythmic motion
is dramatically intensified.
Then, the opening section returns. The harmonic progression
is identical to the original; the inner voices replay the
original melody. However, the cello and upper violin add a
more active commentary. The troubled rhythmic intensity
introduced during the B-section "bleeds" into the
A-section's return, preventing the music from recovering its
original stillness. Time has had an effect: the A-section
has "absorbed" the influence of the B-section.
Example 7
As another example, listen to the opening of Bartok's
Music for Strings, Percussion and Celeste. The
violas, alone, present the movements main theme.
The movement builds to a powerful climax that reaches its
peak with the powerful repetition of a single note. The
main theme is then broken into fragments and flipped upside
down. These reflections have the quality of mysterious
reminiscences.
Near the work's close, the music returns to its starting
point, and the violas present the theme in its original
form.
However, time has had an effect! The theme is not presented
in isolation: This time, it is combined with its own mirror
image, played in the high violins. Because of the high
register, the "upside down" version nearly masks the violas;
you have to listen very carefully to hear the original
theme. The return is also accompanied by rapid figuration
in the celeste, which is playing for the first time.
Finally, there is sustained harmony, played in
tremolo. As in the Schubert, the
transformations recollect and summarize the intervening
music: For instance, as was illustrated above, the inverted
version of the theme was introduced at the climax.
Significant events have left their mark; the music's history
is reflected in the changes that have occurred.
In the
Brandenburg example, the harpsichord solo is
immensely exciting when it is happening; but the later music
is able to "set aside" this fiery solo. It is part of the
history of the piece; but it does not have a lasting effect.
In contrast, in the Schubert and Bartok examples above, the intervening passages leave an audible legacy; they are not so easily dispelled.
To dramatize the fact that the opening has returned with
significant new features, it is conventional to label the
return as A′ (A-prime). Thus, the
form of the Schubert would be described as
A-B-A′. In a movement with multiple transformed
returns, they may be labeled as A′,
A′′(double-prime) ,
etc. When appropriate, the return of any
section (B′, C′,
etc.) may be marked in this way.
Detailing What Has Changed
With carefully directed listening, it is often possible to
quantify and describe the changes that have occurred just by
ear. A comparison of related passages may be broken down
into detailed and carefully directed questions: Are the
registers similar or different? What about the texture?
The rhythmic surface? Have the melody or harmony been
altered? Are the same instruments playing?
Problem
1:
For instance, compare the opening of the second
movement of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5,
Emperor, with its restatement later in the
movement. Then, mark which of the indicated
features have changed. Listen to the examples as
many times as you need to in order be confident of
your answers.
Correct!
Incorrect.
The piano plays the melody instead of the orchestra.
The piano embellishes and elaborates upon the melody,
making it more supple and rhapsodic.
The piano plays the melody in a higher register.
A new, dance-like rhythmic accompaniment has been
added.
All are true!
Problem
2:
Next, compare these related passages from Pierre
Boulez's orchestral work, Rituel: In Memoriam
Bruno Maderna. Mark which of the indicated
features have changed.
Correct!
Incorrect.
The oboe is joined by other sections of the orchestra,
which anticipate and echo it. The added percussion is
particularly noticeable.
The oboe's line is made up of a characteristic
short-long figure. When the oboe was alone, its
line progressed uninterrupted. Now, each short-line
gesture becomes an "island" unto itself, surrounded
by commentaries from the other instruments. Thus,
the oboe's line is more discontinuous.
Whereas the oboe line
included single grace-notes, the refrain includes
sporadic, rapid rhythmic figurations.
Again, all are true.
Example 8
One crucial issue to examine is whether the return is
abbreviated or expanded. When the return is abbreviated,
it can contribute to making the music more dynamic, more
active. The return is more efficient, it has been reduced
to an essence.
For instance, Brahms' Intermezzo in A-Major
opens with the following lyrical section:
After a contrasting section, the A-section recurs in
abbreviated fashion.
Example 9
The third movement of Francis Poulenc's Flute
Sonata dramatically compresses its return. The
opening of the piece unfolds with a luxurious panorama of
ideas, beginning with energetic figuration played by the
flute and piano and culminating in a more languorous theme
introduced by the piano alone.
At the return, Poulenc presents a dizzying synposis that
rushes quickly through the contrasting ideas: The
energetic figuration and languorous theme now occur much
closer together.
From a structural point-of-view, the result is very
dynamic and lively.
Example 10
Compare these examples with Wagner's Siegfried's
Death and Funeral March, in which the theme is
expanded when it returns. If the reprise is both expanded
and presented with great stability, it creates a
particularly emphatic and conclusive sense of arrival.
Interpreting Time's Effect
If transformations have occurred, one way to interpret them is to
consider whether time has strengthened or weakened the material.
Example 11
The opening of Franz Schubert’s Symphony No. 9, “The Great,” begins with a French horn playing alone.
At the end of the work, the entire orchestra plays the theme, powerfully strengthening the return.
Example 12
In Arnold Schoenberg’s A Survivor from Warsaw, the narrator recalls witnessing Jewish prisoners being led away to their deaths. As he describes how the condemned started to sing, a disjunct melody is played quietly by a muted horn.
Later in the work, the narrator’s retelling becomes more immediate and detailed. As he describes the prisoners’ final march, the muted horn’s melody returns—this time sung forcefully by men’s chorus and prolonged into a complete prayer. Time has strengthened the material, giving it an overwhelming emotional impact.
In Samuel Beckett's play Krapp's Last Tape, a
bumbling, mysterious old man revisits scenes from his life
by replaying autobiographical tapes he made when he was
younger. His idealistic, assured younger self is juxtaposed
against the hopeless, hapless relic that he has become. The
play is an analog to the type of analysis we have been
describing: Past Krapp and present Krapp are presented
side-by-side, so that time's effect becomes palpable. In the
case of poor Krapp, time has weakened him.
Example 13
Time can also weaken musical material. The Scherzo of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 begins with a forceful French horn melody.
Later, this passage returns. But instead of strengthening it, time has weakened the material. Now it is played delicately by the winds, supported by plucked strings:
Example 14
In Arnold Schoenberg’s Verklarte Nacht is an instrumental work inspired by a poem by Richard Dehmel. The poem tells the story of a woman who confesses to her lover that she is carrying another man’s child. The man’s shock and distress is represented by the following theme.
At the poem’s close, the man tells the woman he will love the child as his own. In the music, this is represented by the return of the impassioned theme. But time has had an effect: Only fragments are played, softly in the high register.
Problem
3:
As the above examples indicate, time’s effect on the material is central to music’s dramatic thrust. Near the beginning of the musical Camelot, King Arthur sings of his idyllic kingdom.
During the course of the story, Arthur’s reign is undone: His bride, Guinevere, abandons him for Lancelot, his most trusted Knight. The Round Table collapses; Arthur’s vision of peace and prosperity is ruined. Near the musical’s close, Arthur visits a monastery where Guinevere lies dying. At her bedside, he sings a refrain of his earlier song. Sit for a moment at the desk of composer Alan Jay Lerner: Would you strengthen or weaken the material?
Correct!
Incorrect.
Here is Arthur’s refrain:
This time, Arthur speaks rather than sings. The melody is played in the background. The music is slower, with a less insistent beat. Time has weakened the material.
Recognizing Time's Effect
In Alexander Dumas' classic tale The Count of Monte
Cristo, the hero Edmund Dantes is an unsophisticated
commoner, unjustly imprisoned. During his brutal
incarceration, he befriends a fellow inmate, who secretly
teaches him the skills of the nobility, and eventually
shares with him the location of a secret treasure. Dantes
escapes, finds the treasure, and transforms himself into a
Count with extraordinary wealth. When he returns home,
neither his beloved nor his enemies recognize him--the
effects of time have been too pronounced.
A musical return may be similarly disguised. If most of the qualities of the original are preserved,
recognition of a reprise is within the reach of an alert
listener. But if the transformations are extreme--if only a
shadow of the original is preserved--then time's effect may
be so overpowering as to make recognition very difficult.
Example 15 Listen to
Beethoven's Bagatelle, opus 126, no.1 in its
entirety. As you will recall, the movement opens with a
lyrical theme, which is immediately repeated with more
embellishments. Does the main theme ever return at all?
If so where and how?
The melody does return: it is played in the bass.
However, many of the opening's original features have been
modified: the melody is in a much lower register; faster
rhythmic values predominate in the accompaniment; the
harmony is different. Rather than being strongly
articulated, the reprise is obscured by the radical
transformations that have taken place.
Example 16
Similarly, in Schoenberg's Piano Piece, opus
33a, the refrain of the opening may be hard to grasp:
The pitch patterns at the opening and in the piano's right
hand at the return are exactly the same. But many of the
opening's defining features have changed: the opening is
made up strictly of chords; at the reprise, there are
still chords, but are broken, creating a more rhythmically
fluid surface. The texture is also thickened: the left
hand is playing an independent part. The register is
expanded. Though the opening is being recuperated, the
novelties make the recognition challenging.
Disguising the return makes the music inherently more
open-ended and dynamic. The music does not acknowledge its return, but rather maintains its uninterrupted development. Instead of a sense of circling back to a familiar place, the music offers a particularly forceful sense of progress.
Conclusion
When you go to a class reunion, you are not there just to
recognize old classmates. You are there to see whether time
“has been good to them.” Who has aged,
who remains youthful? Who has fulfilled the ambitions of
their youth, who has faced greater disappointment or veered
off in unexpected directions? One classmate remains as
straight-laced as ever. Another has gone from being a
businessman to being an organic farmer. You mill about the
crowd, analyzing time's effect in all its dazzling variety and
potency.
Similarly, when listening to music, identifying the return of
a familiar passage is not enough. Evaluating whether the
passage is restored intact or has changed is crucial to
understanding the significance and poetry of the return. The
possibilities range from time having no effect whatsoever--the
music is restored intact, exactly in its original form--to
time's effect being so powerful and the transformations so
extreme that the original passage is barely recognizable.
Time's effect may be sudden or gradual. It may render the
music more secure or more unsettled, more refined or more
elaborate, more delicate or more forceful, compressed or
expanded. Through careful hearing and comparison of related
passages, it is possible to carry an aural analysis quite far. The progression from analysis to interpretation may work
both ways. You may begin with a more immediate, intuitive
reaction, and then examine the music carefully to understand
its cause. Or, you may begin with a collection of
observations, which then yield a more comprehensive
conclusion. Across styles, eras and cultures, time's effect on the material may be the single most crucial feature of music.