Alex Ross: The Rest Is Noise

[(poco) Sforzando]

Yes, he does, although his is not a "blow-by-blow" musicological analysis, but comments on how and why various composers chose the routes they did.  Early in the book, his discussions of the Second Viennese School (i.e., Berg, Schoenberg and Webern) are erudite and entertaining, and chapters 11 and 13 are respectively on "The Cold War and the Avant-Garde of the Fifties" and "Messiaen, Ligeti, and the Avant-Garde of the Sixties" (with a great chapter on Britten in between).  I empathize with your struggle with atonality; I have a number of classically oriented friends who find atonal music "disturbing," "incomprehensible," etc.  Ross might be the one to help.

--Bruce

Ross can't hurt, but as implied above, he's rather light on specifically musical analysis and more inclined to be anecdotal. And he covers an enormous amount of ground in 600 pages, which makes for a rather breathless survey of the achievements of an entire century.

For the non-musician, however, Ross's book is certainly recommendable. There's nothing quite like it in print, and a survey of the century was badly needed. But if you really want to learn about Schoenberg's musical style, there's much more musical substance in Allen Shawn's "Arnold Schoenberg's Journey," which is readable for non-musicians and musicians alike, and even more in Charles Rosen's brief monograph on Schoenberg - though the latter does become more technical. If you're interested in the history of atonality and want to see a very haughtily argued example of the quasi-Boulezian party line, try André Hodeir's "Since Debussy," a book which many will take with a ton of salt particularly for its near-deification of Jean Barraqué, but worth a read.

[bhodges]

OK, here are two paragraphs from the second chapter, "Doctor Faust: Schoenberg, Debussy and Atonality," about Webern's Six Pieces for Orchestra, Op. 6.  This is a terrific nutshell description of one of my favorite works from this period, one that might be daunting at first, but one that repays repeated listening.

* * * * *

"In the summer of 1909, while Schoenberg was composing his Five Pieces for Orchestra and Erwartung, Webern wrote his own orchestral cycle, the Six Pieces, Opus 6.  It is an incomparably disturbing work in which the rawness of atonality is refracted through the utmost orchestral finesse.  Webern's pieces, no less than Schoenberg's, are marked by personal experience--here, lingering anguish over the death of the composer's mother, in 1906.  We hear successive stages of grief: presentiment of disaster, the shock of the news (screaming, trilling flocks of trumpet and horns), impressions of the Carinthian countryside near where Amalie Webern was laid to rest, final memories of her smile.

"In the middle of the sequence is a funeral procession, which begins in ominous quiet, with a rumble of drums, gong, and bells.  Various groups of instruments, trombones predominating, groan chords of inert, imploded character.  An E-flat clarinet plays a high, wailing, circling melody.  An alto flute responds in low, throaty tones.  Muted horn and trumpet offer more lyric fragments, over subterranean chords.  Then the trombones rise to a shout, and the winds and the brass fall in line between them.  The piece is crowned with a crushing sequence of nine- and ten-note chords, after which the percussion begins its own crescendo and builds to a pitch-liquidating roar.  The age of noise has begun."  (Alex Ross, The Rest Is Noise, pp. 62-63)

--Bruce

[some guy]

Well, that Alex guy does have a vivid imagination, doesn't he?

Yeah, I know. Webern did have a mom. His mom did die when he was only 22. He did make some connections between that event and his opus 6, which he started when he was 25. One of the more explicit connections, however, the designation of Funeral March for the fourth piece, he eliminated in the revision.

One can't help thinking of Berlioz' dismay at how the story he'd made to accompany his first symphony was so attractive that instead of making it easier to listen to this new and unprecedented music--giving audiences a way in to the unfamiliar sound world--it ended up making it almost impossible for anyone to listen to the music at all without taking it as mere illustration of the fantastic story.

Perhaps Webern felt a bit of that when he revised his opus 6. I certainly think that the Six Pieces are less interesting as autobiography than as music. I find the way Ross describes the music to be simply a great crashing distraction--an impediment to enjoying the music. Maybe for people still new to that kind of sound (still, almost a hundred years later, incroyable!) it is a way in. I dunno.

In any event, composers are people. They eat food. They have boy and girl friends. They sleep. They worry about paying bills. They like nature or football or listening to the nightly news or playing chess or all of the above. And sometimes, when they're talking about their music, they mention other things going on in their lives, as they do not compartmentalize any more (or any less) than anyone else. What does that mean? That music depicts the events of a composer's life? No, not really. (How many times have you heard Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique described as autobiographical, even though he had and Harriet Smithson had never been to a ball together, never been on a picnic in the country together. Even though Hector had never lost his head on a scaffold nor had Harriet ever partaken of a Witches Sabbath. Well, not as far as we know.)

What's the music like is the issue here, I'd say. And the problem with Alex Ross' book is that music takes a back seat to anecdotes (that's the charitable word--I would have used "gossip") about the composers and their colleagues and friends and enemies. Most of us like gossiping. And such a gossipy book is bound to be interesting because of its gossipy-ness. But it's called "Listening to the Twentieth Century." I wish he'd done some more listening himself, to the music, qua music, and less time on the political intrigues and the emotional upheavals that are a part of everyone's life, artist or not.

[DavidRoss]

   Awww...does somebody need a hug?


I thoroughly enjoyed the book.  Left comments here about it shortly after Christmas.  I was entertained, learned a couple of things, and my heart was glad to see such informed good sense on the subject displayed in a best-selling book.

[greg]

(How many times have you heard Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique described as autobiographical, even though he had and Harriet Smithson had never been to a ball together, never been on a picnic in the country together. Even though Hector had never lost his head on a scaffold nor had Harriet ever partaken of a Witches Sabbath. Well, not as far as we know.)

Lol, yeah, it kinda makes you think twice. 

[karlhenning]

* * * * *

"In the summer of 1909, while Schoenberg was composing his Five Pieces for Orchestra and Erwartung, Webern wrote his own orchestral cycle, the Six Pieces, Opus 6.  It is an incomparably disturbing work in which the rawness of atonality is refracted through the utmost orchestral finesse.  Webern's pieces, no less than Schoenberg's, are marked by personal experience--here, lingering anguish over the death of the composer's mother, in 1906.  We hear successive stages of grief: presentiment of disaster, the shock of the news (screaming, trilling flocks of trumpet and horns), impressions of the Carinthian countryside near where Amalie Webern was laid to rest, final memories of her smile.

"In the middle of the sequence is a funeral procession, which begins in ominous quiet, with a rumble of drums, gong, and bells. . . ."

It's a while since I've heard the Webern Opus 6, but I cannot help feeling that Ross is greatly overstating this:  Webern's movements tend to be much too short to get anything like a procession going.

[(poco) Sforzando]

It's a while since I've heard the Webern Opus 6, but I cannot help feeling that Ross is greatly overstating this:  Webern's movements tend to be much too short to get anything like a procession going.

Not when James Levine conducts them.

[(poco) Sforzando]

What's the music like is the issue here, I'd say. And the problem with Alex Ross' book is that music takes a back seat to anecdotes (that's the charitable word--I would have used "gossip") about the composers and their colleagues and friends and enemies. Most of us like gossiping. And such a gossipy book is bound to be interesting because of its gossipy-ness. But it's called "Listening to the Twentieth Century." I wish he'd done some more listening himself, to the music, qua music, and less time on the political intrigues and the emotional upheavals that are a part of everyone's life, artist or not.

Exactly, SG. And that's what separates Ross's book from a masterly account like Wilfrid Mellers's "Music in a New Found Land" of 1964, a superb history of music in the United States that is divided equally between classical music and jazz. Mellers covers all the important figures on both sides of that aisle - Ives, Copland, Barber, Ruggles, Carter, Gershwin, Ellington, Coltrane, etc. - but his eye (or rather "ear") is always on the music and its role in American culture, and he writes in terms most readers will be able to understand. But if you need to know about Benjamin Britten's attachment to the son of conductor Hermann Scherchen, then Ross is your man.

[Josquin des Prez]

Not when James Levine conducts them.

I have too look into his recordings then. Webern's own estimation of the duration of his works was much longer then what the results appear to be in performance. I wonder what the tempo markings actually say in the score and if they are being ignored to make his music sound more "quirky" then it's mean to be.

[some guy]

Webern's own estimation of the duration of his works was much longer then what the results appear to be in performance. I wonder what the tempo markings actually say in the score and if they are being ignored to make his music sound more "quirky" then it's mean to be.

In a brief search, I found only one example of an estimation (24 minutes) being longer than performance reality (about ten and a half minutes). The shorter time is what corresponds to the tempo markings in the score. (This is the Cantata, op. 31.)

I also found an entry about the Six Pieces, op. 6 on a site selling scores that the time listed on that score is ten minutes. The recording I have with Boulez takes more than twelve minutes.

The tempo markings for the six pieces are:

quarter note ca. 50
eighth note ca. 160
quarter note ca. 50
quarter note ca. 46
eighth note ca. 40
quarter note ca. 50

[(poco) Sforzando]

In a brief search, I found only one example of an estimation (24 minutes) being longer than performance reality (about ten and a half minutes). The shorter time is what corresponds to the tempo markings in the score. (This is the Cantata, op. 31.)

I also found an entry about the Six Pieces, op. 6 on a site selling scores that the time listed on that score is ten minutes. The recording I have with Boulez takes more than twelve minutes.

The tempo markings for the six pieces are:

quarter note ca. 50
eighth note ca. 160
quarter note ca. 50
quarter note ca. 46
eighth note ca. 40
quarter note ca. 50

But without knowing the number of measures in each piece, we can't draw any conclusions from the metronome points alone. As for Levine, in live performance a few months ago his opus 6 lasted close to 15 minutes, certainly enough for a mini-procession. I'd have to check my old monaural Robert Craft set when I get home, but I doubt it was close to even 10 minutes. I think Webern also estimated the Symphony to last about 20 minutes, but it's usually taken about 10 in my experience.

[lukeottevanger]

Ross can't hurt, but as implied above, he's rather light on specifically musical analysis and more inclined to be anecdotal. And he covers an enormous amount of ground in 600 pages, which makes for a rather breathless survey of the achievements of an entire century.

For the non-musician, however, Ross's book is certainly recommendable. There's nothing quite like it in print, and a survey of the century was badly needed. But if you really want to learn about Schoenberg's musical style, there's much more musical substance in Allen Shawn's "Arnold Schoenberg's Journey," which is readable for non-musicians and musicians alike, and even more in Charles Rosen's brief monograph on Schoenberg - though the latter does become more technical. If you're interested in the history of atonality and want to see a very haughtily argued example of the quasi-Boulezian party line, try André Hodeir's "Since Debussy," a book which many will take with a ton of salt particularly for its near-deification of Jean Barraqué, but worth a read.

The single best post-1945 music history I have is Paul Griffiths' Modern Music and After: Directions Since 1945, which is one of the few such texts which deals with each twist and turn of a trend in turn - for instance, describing the changing techniques of Boulez's music on an almost work-to-work basis, spread over several chapters as the music wends its way through the decades. Anecdotes are few and far between, but always pertinent. It isn't perfect - there are glaring omissions, though also many 'lesser figures' that I am delighted to see get extensive and suitable treatment; and as Griffiths freely admits, his own tastes are fairly evident. But all in all, it's pretty comprehensive.

[some guy]

The single best post-1945 music history I have is Paul Griffiths' Modern Music and After: Directions Since 1945

I'm going to tentatively guess (wait a tick--"guess" already means "tentative") that you do not have David Cope's New Directions in Music and perhaps not even Michael Nyman's Experimental Music: Cage and Beyond.

And there's a really great book that came out the same year as Griffiths' revision, which is narrow in scope, but within that scope is truly astonishingly good. And that is Alan Rich's American Pioneers: Ives to Cage and Beyond.

[lukeottevanger]

I'm going to tentatively guess (wait a tick--"guess" already means "tentative") that you do not have David Cope's New Directions in Music and perhaps not even Michael Nyman's Experimental Music: Cage and Beyond.

And there's a really great book that came out the same year as Griffiths' revision, which is narrow in scope, but within that scope is truly astonishingly good. And that is Alan Rich's American Pioneers: Ives to Cage and Beyond.

I have the Nyman. I think it is a marvellous book. But it concentrates, of course, on a narrower area than the Griffiths which at least makes a valiant attempt to cover most of the bases, and does so with insight and understanding. When I said 'The single best post-1945 music history I have' I was trying to imply 'the one which combines wide coverage with penetrating analysis' - this is, I think the virtue of the Griffiths. I think this particular book of his is far finer and more penetrating than his other study of 'Modern Music' (possibly easily confused with it too).

[Mark G. Simon]

I'm about half way through it now, and am enjoying it greatly. It is a very fine book.

[some guy]

Excellent post, Sarkosian, as I'm sure you already knew!

I once referred to what I thought was the fairly obvious discomfort Alex feels toward modern music. My comment was received with universal incredulity.

But there it is. He wants to like it. He at least feels like he should like it. Indeed, a lot of it he does like. But overall, he is deeply, profoundly uneasy about it.

And I fear (well fear might be too strong) that he will communicate his dis-ease to others, leaving people who are already uncomfortable with it, who still find Schoenberg tough going, with a feeling that their own discomfort has been amply justified.

Too bad. The music of the past century, in spite of Donald Vroon (who has been recently cited in another thread), is neither shocking nor distressing, but endlessly various and exhilarating. Too bad that some people who hate it must spend so much effort convincing everyone around them that it's worthless. Oh well. In fifty years, no one will remember Donald Vroon, few will care about Alex Ross, but many will still be enjoying Lutoslawski for sure. And perhaps even his younger countryman, Karkowski, too. I won't be around for that, of course. But my kids will be, and as they all like Witold and Zbigniew today, well....

[Josquin des Prez]

Too bad that some people who hate it must spend so much effort convincing everyone around them that it's worthless.

As opposed to those who spend so much effort convincing everyone around them it's the only true way. That's perfectly legit.

[greg]

But without knowing the number of measures in each piece, we can't draw any conclusions from the metronome points alone. As for Levine, in live performance a few months ago his opus 6 lasted close to 15 minutes, certainly enough for a mini-procession. I'd have to check my old monaural Robert Craft set when I get home, but I doubt it was close to even 10 minutes. I think Webern also estimated the Symphony to last about 20 minutes, but it's usually taken about 10 in my experience.

19-27-8-40-26-25

[jochanaan]

It's a while since I've heard the Webern Opus 6, but I cannot help feeling that Ross is greatly overstating this:  Webern's movements tend to be much too short to get anything like a procession going.

Not that fourth movement: the actual timing from my recording (Giuseppe Sinopoli/Staatskapelle Dresden) is 4'55"!  And whether Mr. Ross' scenario is or isn't accurate, it's certainly plausible; I've always felt that the fourth movement is the tragic heart of this set.

[some guy]

As opposed to those who spend so much effort convincing everyone around them it's the only true way.

Who does this?

(Chapter and verse would be nice, too. You know, some nice facts to support your assertions.)