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The Foundations of Contemporary Composition
New Music and Aesthetics in the 215t Century Published in Collaboration with the Gesellschaft filr Musik und Asthetik
Volume 3
Published in Collaboration with the Akademie SchloS Solitude
Edited by Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf
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ML Lf30
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First Edition 2004 (c) 2004 by authors and editors All rights reserved by the publisher Wolke Verlag, Hofheim No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Acknowledgements: The editors gratefully acknowledge permission from the following publishers to reprint copy· righted work: United Music Publishers, London (Barrett) Universal Edition, London (Berio) Peters Edition, London (Ferneyhough) G. Ricordi & Co .• Milan (Grisey) Ricordi, Feldkirchen (Klaus Huber) Breitkopf & Hartel, Wiesbaden (Lachenmann) G. Ricordi & Co., Milan (Nono) Editions Salabert, Paris (ScelsO peermusic, New York/ Hamburg {Spahlinger) Editions Salabert, Paris (Xenakis)
Cover design: Friedwalt Donner, Alonissos Typesetting: CSF · ComputerSatz Freiburg, Freiburg im Breisgau Musical examples: Notengraphik Werner Eickhoff Printing: Fuldae~ Verlagsagentur, Fulda ISBN 3-936000-14-X
Contents
Foreword A. Categories Cox Musical Progress? New Music and Perils of Progressivist Historicism FRANK
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CLAUS-5TEFfEN MAHNKOPf
Reflection, Critique, Utopia, Messianicity. Criteria of Modern Music Or How Far Does the Notion of Musical Deconstruction Carry?
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SEBASTIAN CLAREN
Construction and Conceptuality
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B. Material and Form JOHANNES MENKE
Thoughts on Harmony Today
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WIELAND HOBAN
On the Methodology and Aesthetics of Form-Polyphony
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ANNE SEDES
French Spectralism From the Frequency to the Temporal Domain: Analysis, Models, Synthesis •.. and Future Prospects
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C. Reflexion GUNNAR HINDRICHS
Musical Modernity: What Does it Mean Today?
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BARBARA MAURER
Cult and Concert. The Figure of the Performer
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D. Technologies MARK ANDR£
Computer-assisted Musical Composition and Creation of a Compositional Model
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CHRIS MERCER
Composing Algorithms, Composing with Algorithms A Critical Assessment
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KAzuo TAKASUGI Klang: sound composition pulled "inside out"
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STEVEN
NICOLA SANI
Musical Thought and Technology Composing by Means of the Present
Biographies
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Foreword From September 27 to 29, 2002, the Gesellschaft fiir Musik und Asthetik, in collaboration with the Akademie SchloS Solitude and supported by the Ernst von Siemens Musikstiftung, organized an international and interdisciplinary symposium concerning the "Foundations of Contemporary Composition." The goal of this symposium was to appraise, on a theoretical and artistic level, the foundations of contemporary composition, whereby by "contemporary" the recent past and direct present was understood. The following reasons were decisive in choosing this topic: a) the musicological research in the domain of new music is concentrated on the now historical period from ea. 1950 to 1970; b) writings about contemporary music since the 1980s have been increasingly lacking in serious reflection and theoretical perspective; c) a clearly perceptible transformation from a First to a "Second Modernity," obscured by the postmodern phenomenon and now awaiting serious critical appraisal, should be supported, above all in view of its artistic and creative potentials; and d) finally, the increasing pluralization of the discourse of contemporary composition demands a dialogical confrontation of divergent approaches. Composers and musicologists, along with one philosopher and one interpreter were invited in order to explore the terrain of contemporary composition in a systematic fashion. Four sections arose from these researches: the three main musical sections consider categories (progress, reflection, deconstruction, conceptuality), material and form (harmony, polyphony, spectralism), and technological aspects (algorithmic and electroacoustic composition, as well as sound composition); a fourth section is dedicated to interdisciplinary reflection and contemporary performance practice. The publisher wishes to thank Frank Cox for his collaboration in the preparation of this book. This publication would not have been possible without the generous support of the Akademie SchloS Solitude, Stuttgart, the Ernst von Siemens Musikstiftung and the Stiftung Landesbank Baden-WOrttemberg. Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf Freiburg, May, 2004
A. Categories
Frank Cox
Musical Progress? New Music and Perils of Progressivist Historicism
I. Situation: "The New" and Musical Progress
Few ideas seem so thoroughly discredited at this time as the notion of musical progress, the promise (or threat) that music is racing forward along the rails laid by ironclad laws, the demand that we must all scramble to keep up with its accelerating pace. Its attendant concept of "the new" has, in its emphatic form, suffered a similar fate. Strangely enough, it has recently become safely consigned to and confined within the past, namely those brief periods surrounding the 2oth century's two world wars, during which-perhaps precisely owing to these events-for a moment an opening for radical new visions was felt necessary. This term need not be treated emphatically; it could, as in the popular music industry, simply indicate the most recent album release or event, a sensation hungrily awaited by the broad masses, or ready-made to scratch the itch of niche consumers. Such a "value-neutral" treatment, especially with the attendant expectations, is difficult to transfer to the high-art new music system 1, which, in its most energetic phases was resolutely dedicated to presenting the most powerfully original and accomplished of new works, this despite the fact that these were abhorrent to the mainstream taste of their own time. However, the finest of these works proffered the hope that, however disturbing their initial "appearance," they would in the long run prove to be of fundamental cultural worth. Without this promise, and inseparable from the concomitant risk, it is difficult to understand how the culturally privileged role of any high-art new music system can be justified. It is thus particularly difficult to understand the current transformation of "new music" into a historical category, which the present-day new music system seems dedicated to enforcing: instead of using . its privileged status to champion, in the face of initial resistance, works that might prove the cultural treasures of the future, this system's most progressive vistas are still defined by, and rarely extend beyond, the early, radical work of a t
When speaking of the ..new-music system," I am intentionally conflating what are in fact both a small number of highly-organized and differentiated systems (the model case being the Central European state-centered systems, with their relatively great cultural authority and prestige) and a vast number of relatively unstable and amorphous situations (the norm in most countries outside of Central Europe, the model cases being the occasion-based small festivals, recital series, and the like centered around universities or other local power structures, characterized by their self· organization, relative isolation, and ad-hoe nature). The former will, due to the relatively broad acceptance of their often self-proclaimed legitimacy, serve as the model for this term, although in some cases the most significant developments initially occur only in the latter.
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few immediate post-World War II composers, many of whom have by now been dead for a decade or longer. In the face of present-day misuses of the term, it would be tempting to call upon a hallowed rhetorical figure and assert that, in contrast to the degraded present, the term new music once had, in the glorious past, a substantial meaning. Although the nature of such an assertion is insupportable, its overbearing tone should not lead one to commit the opposite transgression, that is, to assert that the term has never had any other meaning than that which is widely accepted at present. It is difficult to deny that at several times in the past this term has been used to indicate an opening toward new vistas, a radical break with an exhausted and degraded present, in general aimed toward the rediscovery of something long lost and long missed. This figure generally drew upon the Golden Age model, aiming to recapture the glory of a hallowed past through discoveries that were original (i.e., returning to the origins) and radical (i.e., going back/getting to the root). The epitomal case is the attempt by musicians of and associated with the Florentine Camerata, at the dawn of the modern age of music, to create anew, in and for their own time, the expressive power of ancient Greek drama. Such a tradition-based approach to "the new" is clearly continued even as far as the Second Viennese School conception of new music, which is broadly considered-and not only by cultural conservatives-as representing a final, radical break with the tradition of tonal music. By this I mean Schon berg's conservative justification of his revolutionary discoveries, that is, that he learned everything he knew from the old masters and was simply attempting to extend their heritage. Such a traditional figure of artistic revolution, common to early highModernist figures as diverse as Heinrich Schenker, Martin Heidegger, and Ezra Pound, in which the gloried past should circle around with the immense momentum of an orbital path to re-meet the present, assumed, appropriate to a largely classically-trained culture, that the present had lost its way, that it was unworthy of the best that had been bequeathed to it. And yet, it was felt that such immense potentials were lurking under the surface of this "rotten" present -in this, most high-Modernist movements drew heavily upon the after-echoes of 19th-century progressivist energies-that perhaps a re-birth of this legacy might be attained. The sense of general dis-ease with the present common to the generation that lived through World War I also nourished a newer conception of these terms, one in which the inevitability thought characteristic of revolutions was welded to a future-oriented historicist program, such that the Golden Age (which had indeed never existed in the past) was now fixed in the future, the goal of history, what I will call progressivist historicism. 2 In its extreme form, its 2
It is necessary to distinguish two very different types of historicism. Following D'Amico (Historicism and Knowledge [New York: Routledge Press, 1989D. the first, more traditional type of historicism
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imminent arrival was asserted as inevitable, which I would characterize as messianic historicism. In this prospective/retrospective figure (whose extremist potentials are, I would argue, lurking under every progressivist historicism), every worthy sacrifice in the present was promised redemption in the future moment of arrival; similarly to the hallowed Christian thought figure, the most despised in the present should-this "should" all too often converted into a "must"-be honored in a future projected to be better and wiser, this triumph thereon to accrue retroactively. Thus, terms such as "revolution," "original," and "radical" were unmoored from the past and found welcome haven in a present whose ground for existence was the imminent future. Although it must be admitted that the Golden Age-whether Greek or Roman-at the core of classical humanist education inevitably contained an element of pure projection (that is, of present-day ideals projected upon the past), there remained in the model still a brute, irrefragable facticity: without a doubt Sophocles' plays were performed with some kind of a chorus, Plato did project a utopia in The Republic, and so on. In contrast, the model projected by messianic historicism could exist only in the head, and the promise of such (more widely known in Germany as Historismus) views various ihistorical] conceptual schemes as so many •expressions' of the world and rejects, on relativist grounds. any •representational• account of knowledge"; the older form of this traditional historicism held. with Ranke. "that all ages are unmittelbar zu Gott," whereas the modern form can find "no ultimate reference point. no 'court of appeals• by which the diverse objective worlds can be reconciled or judged" (p. 119). This type of historicism will not be discussed in this paper, although I would argue that many aspects of it have been folded into the second type. The second type. as defined by Popper in characterizing Marxist historicism. asserts that "history obeys a lawful order or logic and knowing its 'laws of emergence' allows for historical predictions" (pp. 20 f.); this I have labeled "progressivist historicism.• To this definition I would add back more of its Hegelian core, namely that it include a temporalized progression of historical "conceptual schemes" (following the terminology of the analytic tradition), this latter term Ooosely) denoting the underlying mode of organizing experience of any temporal period (the Zeitgeist) or developmental stage of a culture (Hegel/Marx): a language. a culture•s underlying conceptual schemata, for Marx the state of productive and social relations. and so on. Essential in this notion is firstly that a conceptual scheme is a set of givens, not susceptible to direct, instrumental control, and secondly that it influences all aspects of experience. In addition, in the Hegel/Marx tradition, each conceptual scheme is a totality and qualitatively different from every other: members of one conceptual scheme can scarcely commu· nicate with those of another. and the movement from one conceptual scheme involves a qualitative transformation of all aspects of experience. In this tradition, the temporalized progression of conceptual schemes is not accidental, but corresponds to the unfolding of Reason in history according to an ironclad, immanent dialectic (however "cunning" and difficult to fathom this might be). Although progressivist historicism of such a totalistic-rationalist cast has lost intellectual respectability over the last century, its appeal has proven impossible to extirpate, despite the best efforts of Viennese positivists and analytical philosophers. Indeed, fragments of it constantly pop up not only in the soft sciences and the intellectual mid-cult, but have even reappeared, seemingly to stay, in the heart of "serious" endeavors: namely in the philosophy of science, largely due to the great influence of Thomas Kuhn•s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 1962) on the Anglo-American discourse (cf. also Foucault, Rorty, et al.). I would term this sort of historicism "successivist historicism," as the various conceptual schemes are viewed as simply succeeding each other temporally, according to some views without any rhyme or reason.
utopias could only be redeemed if the projected future was certain to arrive. Because the validity of whatever was presently done was made radically dependent on its future redemption-value, it was all the more necessary that the promised outcome be ensurable and, ultimately, assured. To explain more closely, a model drawn from the past, based upon events that have already occurred, admits of multiple reasonable interpretations that neither constitute nor consume their object (that is, at least the facticity can survive and even outlast any interpretations, allowing grounded and reasonable discussion concerning the significance of the events), whereas for a model that has not yet been realized an infinite number of interpretations is possible, but these must to some degree constitute their object, which is in fact constantly in temporal motion (to use the familiar figure, "responding to changing conditions"); in addition, something must necessarily be realized, thus closing off reasonable discussion as to, for example, whether the promised utopia should indeed come into existence. Even more, exactly because this model must be realized, its nature and the form of its realization become increasingly a matter of purposive-rational action, of pseudo-scientism, even of raw coercion, unlike more broadly conceived imperatives, those permanent goads toward goals that can never be attained. Efficacy of realization becomes more important than the worthiness of the means by which something was achieved, accuracy of prediction more significant than the worth of that which was predicted. The flaws in this position-not only logical, but (if one dare say so) ethical as well- are legion, and have been thoroughly hashed out over a half-century or more of spirited debate.3 For example, the pretensions of inevitability are ridiculous: leaving aside the question of whether any utopia should come into existence (or even could), unlike the otherworldly redemptions a God can ensure, no-one can guarantee that any projected goals will hit their mark, that any present-day tendency will achieve its end, as the future is radically unpredictable. Yet no matter how often the notion of being able to predict, ferret out, and even control the future course of events has been conclusively disproven, its appeal-which would guarantee overwhelming power for even the weakest among us-is practically universal in modern societies. Because these are to their core dependent upon continued progress in every calculable domain -technology, profit, information, etc.-their philosopher's stone would be the unerring ability to hit a future mark. Thus, the appeal of progressivist historicism is difficult to deny, above all in the form of a knack for spying out the future 3
The pioneering contribution to this debate was undoubtedly Karl Popper's The Poverty of Historicism (New York: Routledge Press, 2002), completed in 1935-36 and first published in English (in Economica) in 1944-45. An excellent recent summary of the debate can be found in Robert O'Amico, Historicism and Knowledge. Some of the broader consequences of this mode of thinking were powerfully portrayed in Hannah Arendt's writings, including The Origins of Totalitarianism (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1968).
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success of a present trend. And wherever authority is measured by its ability to guarantee future results, above all where these stakes are the highest, corruption is rampant in the form of attempting to manipulate reality-which in fact belongs to us all-in the shape of one's own wishes and needs. Although such broader issues will remain secondary in this paper, I believe that they are very much relevant to the situation of the modern arts. It is only fair to admit that I have purposely blurred the distinctions between social and aesthetic progressivist historicisms in order to emphasize their similar tendencies, yet this is necessary in order to focus meaningfully on a central legitimacy crisis in the modern arts. Firstly, authentically progressive artistic worldviews are but islands in a sea of a leveling passivism, a refusal to face up to the full consequences of radical change so characteristic of the modern condition: that relentless destabilization and modification of each Lebenswelt-even reaching the innermost realm, no matter how inviolable we would wish this to be-by impersonal forces unleashed and administered by humans.4 Because those who 4
This according to what one might consider the signal motto of passivism, namely, ..whatever happened was bound to happen, and therefore resulted in the best of all possible worlds," which is in fact a form of-rudderless-historicism, mindlessly justifying whatever good or evil actually occurred, and, by extension, is currently occurring. A more active form of denial is characteristic of most forms of artistic conservatism in the modern age, namely the attempt to maintain the serious arts as a haven inviolate from all change. What is actually meant by this is all undesirable change, namely, all changes which the present selfunderstanding of such a world-view cannot countenance. If one denies all stylistic change ("style" here meant In the broader sense, i.e., as characteristic of a period), this the birthright of every new generation, then one must in effect enforce a set of stylistic absolutes. But what type of absolutes, and which? One cannot simply take over a set of guidelines from the dead letter of the historical record, as this would lead into multiple absurdities (again, one must ask, which?, and why these and not others?); above all, this would be in open contradiction to the notion that these stylistic absolutes represented the best of a living tradition, which is the only hope of proving that they are indeed absolutes, that is, possessing a validity extending beyond their own period into all future times. Thus, any such absolutes must necessarily contain a degree of abstraction, but here one is trapped in the dilemma that these abstractions cannot be made from any other time than the present, but they are asserted as valid for all times. Therefore, one must at some point admit that one's own viewpoint in history is superior to others; that is, one is abandoned to some form of historicism, whether acknowledged or not. In fact, no stylistic absolutes (even granted that these can be reasonable) can be articulated and understood in any other form and vocabulary than potentially comprehensible in any present, each of which is different from every other. Furthermore, if one abstracts certain norms from the common musical ..language" of an earlier period, then one faces the difficulty of proving why such ..average" norms be treated as paradigmatic for later times, as it is undeniable that but a fraction of the music of any earlier period-Le., the music of the exceptional composers-can, at least on the aesthetic level, hold the interest, much less fire the Imagination of any future period. And should one treat the musical style of exceptional composers ("style" here necessarily involving the notion of individual style) as a norm, one converts determinate exceptions to earlier real .. syntactic" norms into stylistic paradigms for all future generations, certainly a questionable leap in logic. A further contradiction then arises: which of these eternally valid norms should serve as the paradigm? Why not Bach (or Mozart, or Haydn, etc.) rather than Beethoven, Desprez than Palestrina, Dufay instead of Desprez, or, even Machaut or L'onin rather than any of these; in the modern period, why not Bruckner instead of Schonberg, Debussy instead of Boulez, and so on. For example, why should the whole-tone or octatonic sets currently favored by so many nee-conservatives be accepted as paradigmatic
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uphold such worldviews are in general-perhaps precisely due of the obstacles they face-idealists impassioned in their commitment to realizing their visions, and because these worldviews always represent a minority interest (that is, unless these "succeed," fragments of which are then adopted by a later generation as their rightful spoils) and thus can rarely ever claim broad legitimacy in their ripest hour, the temptation to resort to a magic weapon that would vanquish all opposition is difficult to resist. Secondly, I would submit that practically all such progressive worldviews are largely defined by the paradigm of progressivist historicism, that they always already speak its language; I would add that they are thus already trapped-willingly or not-in its aporiai. Thirdly, progressive worldviews are therefore particularly easy prey to the same elements of corruption-above all, that addiction to converting prognoses into certainties by any possible means-that so spectacularly afflict, as but 011e example, our great financial industries; yet the arts lack, perhaps largely because the stakes are so small, corresponding safeguards. Thus, the progressively-oriented arts are particularly easy prey to cabals, to publicity gimmicks, to those who would hijack their way into the history books of the future, of converting "might"-the fact that one has succeeded by hook or by crook in the battle of history-into "right": a justification, a pseudo-proof that all those whose succeeded deserved to succeed, all those who failed deserved their fate. One sort of safeguard offered by most high-modernist aesthetic models against this potential was the insistence upon a distinction between the intrinsic worth of any artwork and its worldly success now, then, or at any time in the future. This was dependent upon a central parable of Modernism, that of retroactive redemption: that is, that the future would inevitably, or in the activist form, should redeem worthy works forgotten in the present. In the latter interpretation, a pragmatic acceptance of and adjustment to whatever happened was unacceptable; rather, one was duty-bound to make a case for the most intrinsically worthy works ignored by any present. But the corruption of circular self-justification again rears its head when the "should" is converted to "must": when present advocacy of the unfamiliar (the displeasing, the unloved, etc.) is transformed into a guarantee of future success, which must then be ensured in order to prove the prophecy correct.s The addiction of many highmusical means when these-barely conceivable in Bach's time, progressive in Debussy's time and commonplace to film music by Boulez' time-provably arose out of a progressivist project tending toward equal temperament, and were barely conceivable before this project had gathered steam? Thus, artistic conservatism tends, with a depressing predictability. to proclaim as eternally valid what is often merely thrice-chewed gruel, however spicily adorned: that is, artistic styles n~ively premised on artistic progressivism. warily lurking (pending approval) several artistic generations behind radical new developments.
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There is a fine, although not nonexistent line between committed advocacy and the sort of betting on, followed by fixing of futures portrayed above. Specifying the exact contours of this line would be equivalent to knowing what all future times will value: one would then be able to distinguish clearly and unerringly the intrinsic worth (i.e•• for all times. most of these obviously succeeding
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Modernist progressive composers to such manipulative tactics (the epitomat -and for some later comers, perhaps ideal-model in this regard being the career, and charismatic tactics, of Richard Wagner) is by now fairly clearly recognized. In the current feeding frenzy instigated against progressivism by various forms of pre- or anti-modernism (usually bearing the prefix "post") -often fueled by the hangover of accumulated, disappointed hopes experienced by former adherents upon awakening to the barren results of an idealistic binge 6 -it is easy to forget how insuperable the difficulties are for any idealist to realize any fragment of his or her vision, or how desperate even the most ethical of such composers must have been to resort to such low means. Leaving personal hopes and disappointments aside, what cannot be condoned is the breakdown of informed supervisory criticism, or even its transformation into an open, even joyful collusion in the process of successful marketing. This can assume a particularly poisonous form when tied to nationalist authoritarian networks with pretensions toward avant-gardism. Thus, many of the most prominent Central-European power brokers-simultaneously active as founders of pseudo-movements, reviewers and "critics" of the same, and so on in a seemingly infinite regress-perceive no conflict of interest, and, more importantly, are not forced to acknowledge such a conflict, when they naively employ the variations upon the figure "I have been proven correct for having advocated so-and-so's compositions early on ...," the proof of this "correctness" residing in the success the broker him· /herself created.7 The current deification in Central European musicological circles of a few of the radical immediate post-World War II composers is a fine example of this process: they had a shared vision, saw and seized openings to avenues of power, and by their mid-thirties had already slid into the history books on historicist rails, meanwhile attracting a legion of justificationists for their self· proclaimed leap into the future. Although both their best early works and their once-immense idealistic energies are worthy of the highest respect, upon being
one's own lifespan) of any artwork from its transient appeal. Here the American trust in correct method as a guarantee for lasting aesthetic worth (found most clearly in the circle surrounding Milton Babbitt) has proven, at least on an aesthetic level, just as poverty-stricken as the European addiction to nationalist culture-heroes. At the same time, the price of erasing this line fl.e., of declaring it ..superseded," a mere a language game, an accident arising from the play of anonymous forces, etc.) is that of losing all legitimacy for progressivist evaluations of the modern arts. 6
The most dangerous potential here being the re-energization of anti-Modernism through progressivist-historicist tactics, what I would label .. radicalized restorationism," or a .. radicalized reaction."
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This criticism applies equally to cliques dedicated to guaranteeing the enshrinement of their culture hero(s) in the cultural pantheon. Not that such energies-often betraying great idealism-are always misplaced: in some cases, the music of the composers benefiting from such efforts might indeed come to represent, for future generations, something of fundamental cultural worth. This is not directed against impassioned advocacy, but rather is aimed at that vicious circle of legitimization to which progressivist historicism is particularly prone.
confronted with the nearly idolatrous praise now accruing to these composers -who, since attaining (seemingly) safe niches in the cultural pantheon have attracted, as bees to honey, hordes of those whose careers are dependent upon their justifying the worth of their objects of study-one is entitled to raise the obvious question: whether many of these composers are indeed, in terms of compositional achievement, comparable to the finest early 2oth-century figures (some now barely-remembered), much less to speak of earlier composers who have long been entrenched in the pantheon. Even worse, numerous composers and groups of scant aesthetic achievement have secured a place in festival retrospectives and even in permanent museum collections on the basis of their having supposedly been the first to have, some forty years ago, "foreseen" later developments of the sort we now enjoy (or, perhaps more accurately, must endure) in today's media events, pop concerts and video palaces (one obvious example being the media-art group Ruxus). Although the factual basis of such claims is shaky, one wonders firstly whether the ability to successfully forecast a future trend-this latter often mistakenly termed the Zeitgeist-is any mark of aesthetic value, and secondly whether this supposed clairvoyance is in fact so extraordinary, given that through the modern public relations machinery future trends can be almost made to order. Given infinite means, time, and patience, such fun and games should certainly have some place in a comprehensive catalogue of new music, but unfortunately means-and idealistic energies, and lifespans as well-are limited. In the face of the conspicuous waste of resources that is the norm in the current new music system, that the music of few of the most authentically progressive composers can appear in any current new music festival leads one to question what the "new" in new music is supposed to intend. In fact, practically all the most radical composers of our time are effectively exiled from this system, one of whose founding aims was supposed to have been that of providing such composers at least temporary refuge against the resistance their works engendered, at least until these had had a chance to bear up under the test of time. But even beyond the tragedy of individual cases-one need not look far to notice the effective banishment of such visionary composers as Jean Barraque or Klaus K. HUbler during their most productive years, or to note that other radical composers were saved (often by a hairbreadth) from professional annihilation only due to mere longevity, or even dumb luck-the success unto enshrinement of such marketing tactics nonsensifies the entire discourse of new music. While its justifications loudly proclaim the "new," a radical break, and so forth, instead, as in the fashion industry one experiences a rote regurgitation of the eternally same; while parasitically using the language and thought figures of progressivist Modernism, this discourse is unable to provide any goal toward which this system should progress, in its place celebrating those who mastered the historicist trick faster than others.
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II. Aporiai
FRAN K
Cox
of "the New"
For this essay I have not prepared a comprehensive conception of "the new," one that would ensure the maintenance of "the new" -i.e., in an emphatic, nontrivial sense-as a valid concept.8 In fact, I do not believe that this is possible, for the simple reason that every manifestation of the new is unprecedented: it might be forecast, eagerly awaited and even oppressively imminent, yet no-one can predict with certainty the precise form or date of its appearance, whether it will appear at all, or even if one would recognize it should it appear. One can strive to maintain a substantial conception of "the new" that would prevent its decay into pure instrumentalism, and one can hone one's instincts for recognizing the substantially new. However, these are a question of human efforts, of intuitions and receptiveness, none of which is guaranteeable by an ironclad law. I will openly admit that any emphatic usage of "the new" -and above all any advocacy of this emphatic usage-is trapped in several aporiai, which will be only briefly discussed. From the outset I will also admit that I lack any simple answers to these aporiai, which are probably insoluble lest one destroy the underlying conflicts themselves (for example, by reducing them to mere puzzles). One fundamental aporia lies in the assertion of a fundamental break or shift where none may exist in reality, which involves at least two related issues: how can one accurately evaluate what is truly new (granted that this is a real possibility), and why should what is fundamentally new be of any great, or even ultimate significance? The first issue is problematic precisely due to the radical impossibility of guaranteeing that any given transgression, be it aesthetic or social-whether a more invasive sound, a more extreme banality or obscenity, a more brutal filmic rendition, and so on-will eventually lose its appearance as mere shock and prove to have been a crucial event in a historical unfolding. In this pool of uncertainty, which inevitably tends to consume, then exhaust idealistic energies, marketing tactics guaranteeing instant payback have found a secure place to fester. The second issue is inextricable from the aporiai of progressivist historicism, and will be discussed in more detail shortly. A second difficulty lies in assessing the long-term, or even ultimate aesthetic worth of that which is asserted/believed to be fundamentally new. Although it is clearly impossible for any present to guarantee such value for any and every future, the ironclad connection between the new and the imagined approval of artists and historians of the future has served as one of the central pillars in the self-understanding of artistic Modernism for more than a century. Indeed, it has proven so effective a tool and so necessary a fiction that it is 8
That is, something which can serve to help make sense of that which occurs or has the potential of appearing in the world, rather than the positing of rigid model to which a common reality is supposed to conform.
doubtful that the questionable nature of its claims to truth, lest these be challenged from outside, will be self-acknowledged. In order remove such "vulgar historicism" from the discussion, I will maintain the following: that any work evince a substantially new approach toward materia/9 is a necessary but by no means a sufficient condition for its later proving of fundamental cultural worth. There are many purely aesthetic grounds that could be offered in support of this assertion-no matter how original the conception, the work as a whole may prove an aesthetic failure, the innovations might later prove more frosting than cake, and so on-but the most conclusive reasons are realistic in nature. Firstly, the value of any present innovations for future times cannot be predetermined, this being the responsibility of later times to judge, and this judgment subject to many factors hidden to any present, and secondly every positive or negative assessment, no matter how brilliant and informed, reached by any future time, might well be negated by a succeeding generation on the basis of a new and different self-understanding. This does not mean, however, that one cannot with good reason suspect which works are more likely than others to survive their own time, and make a strong case for these works. One has, for example, many good reasons to suspect that those artistic developments that both honestly confront the historically grounded imperatives of material and also attempt on this ground to extend its scope into fundamentally new experiential/ aesthetic domains, are far more likely to prove of interest to future generations than those which evaded such challenges and/or denied their validity. Although such aporiai are perhaps inextricable from any progressivism, acknowledging their presence does not invalidate every progressivist position; indeed, a self-critical approach and an openness to outside criticism are the among the most fundamental requirements of any liberal conception of progressivism, which it is my intention to present in this paper. Granted this acknowledgement, as well as the following three premises, I would wish to offer an imperative in the form of a question, the raising of which I would consider obligatory for any new music system for which the "new" would have a substantial content: -firstly, wherever a new music system exists, the supply of composers and their works far exceeds the capabilities of the system to perform them all; -secondly, this system is supported-largely by the society in the form of state subsidization-under the pretense that new music is "serious music," that is, music which might, despite its initially unpleasant "appearance," eventually prove to be something of intrinsic cultural worth, valued by future generations; and •
9
"Material" as italicized will always denote the Adornian conception of material, as discussed below.
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- thirdly, choices as to which works are to be performed are not, unlike a commercial system, thrown open to the mercy of the paying public, but are rather decisions which should, given the cultural pretensions involved, demand not only an expertise among the decision-makers far surpassing a minimal level of competence, but also the facilitation of open discussion oriented on utopian lines (that is, not limited to "experts," but including all informed and willing participants, and preventing to the greatest degree possible the illegitimate role of power on the course and outcome of the discussion) concerning the ideals and ultimate aims underlying the new music system. Granted this much, one of the core questions confronting any new music system, that must be raised again and again (because it is, due to the selfstabilizing nature of any system, the one most gladly "forgotten") is the following: "Which works, out of the mass currently being composed, should be performed; which practically demand-due to their intrinsic originality and/or worth, even due to their sheer audaciousness (which must, however, be substantial, not a mere spectacle)-that they be realized in the world, if only for the briefest moment: regardless of their difficulty, regardless of the expenditure of resources and human efforts they require?" 10 A provisional attempt to provide a firmer basis for answering such a question, offered at the end of this paper, will avoid resorting to progressivist historicist justifications, and instead seek to seek to ground the justification of radically new works in terms of what I will call progressivist projects.
10 This is not to maintain that these most troublesome works are the only works that should be
allowed into a new music system. This is not, after all, run by aristocrats, is not a Privatverein, is not the sole possession of its appointed leaders (whatever many in the system may believe, or are quite willing to accept as practically true: part and parcel of that convenient fatalism upon which the maintenance of power always depends), but must-as publicly supported-be held answerable to broader interests, although it would be fatal to allow itself to be defined or restricted to them. The rules are clearly different in a truly private organization, but-this in contrast to conditions persisting throughout the first half of the 2oth century, in which private interests provided the crucial support for the modern arts - at the present time there are practically no significant new music festivals which do not contain a crucial component of governmental support, however many intermediary institutions there might be. Thus, as long as a certain degree of artistic quality is maintained, that to which an informed public responds directly and powerfully must be allowed a central place in this system, however little leading ..experts" in this system may think of the music or its composers, whose popularity often-though not always, and not exclusively-is reliant upon recycling into more palatable form the radically new discoveries of less immediately accessible composers. If nothing else, this has an objective value, allowing avant-gardists who abhor both the music and the positive response to it to better measure what they wish to avoid. However, my case is focused less on the center than on the fringes of this system: I maintain that it is fatally irresponsible to eliminate from any publicly-supported new music system precisely that music which might in the tong run provide the strongest justification for this system's very existence. At any rate, it is unlikely that such music will in its own time occupy more than the fringes, but there are good reasons for believing that at least some of this music is likely in the long run to prove of intrinsic cultural worth.
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Ill. Attempts toward an Response: Adomo's Conception of Material In confronting this central question, I believe strongly that Adorno's conception of musical material can play an indispensable role. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, it provides a theoretical basis, however unstable, for the attempt to ground a progressive conception of the arts in underlying conflicts, transformations and fundamental choices of society at large, thus avoiding a descent into aestheticist, formalist, or technologist self-enclosure. Secondly, its insistence upon a progressive orientation for the substance and aims of the art form largely avoids crude functionalism, whether grounded upon the supposed needs/ desires of "the audience," a favored group, a class, etc. (i.e., seeming empirical givens that in fact must be delineated, even constituted by the analyst), or trapped in one or the other formalist and/or technological fetishism, to which justifications of new music are notoriously prone u; this avoidance is dependent on what one might call its psychoanalytic orientation, such that the "true," latent content lurks under manifest appearance, and can only be glimpsed through dialectical analysis. Thirdly, this progressivist orientation is, as opposed to most strains of vulgar progressivism, historically informed, yet, unlike most tradition-oriented strains of Modernism, treats this heritage critically; for example, it acknowledges the magnitude of past artistic achievements without being cowed by them, thus maintaining that every present must set a standard of aesthetic achievement analogous, however different in nature, to the peak accomplishments of earlier times. Fourthly, this orientation both respects the radical Modernist imperative that any cultural endeavor constantly renew itself, welcoming the agonistics of innovation and superior accomplishment, yet explicitly acknowledges the aporiai of the very notion of artistic progress.12 Fifthly, the basic conception of material Adorno outlines-despite the fact that it is slanted in favor of the composers of the Second Viennese School, despite Adorno's cultural elitism, and so on, and granted that it is substantially recast-possesses (at least potentially) a breadth that almost uniquely allows it to transcend partisan battles regarding which developments are most significant in any present.1J Although I would maintain that his conception of material is one of the u
Both of these, and especially the latter, can easily give the appearance of progress while draining this concept of any substantial content, and technical progressivism has already several times in this century proved itself a distracting cover for radicalized reaction.
12 This is clear seen in Adorno's progressivist-dystopian conception of musical technique, in which
purely functionalist processes that are both highly rationalized yet immune to rational control, progressively conquer not only all domains traditionally reserved for individual intuition and decision, but the very material of art forms themselves. 13 However important each of these issues is, there is obviously scant space in a single paper for dealing adequately with them all. It is therefore hoped that the most stringent of readers will accept, pending a more substantial explication, the basic orientation and specific assertions for their suggestive value.
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concept-clusters most necessary for holding the entire Adornian enterprise together, Adorno never (at least to my knowledge} provided for it the sort of explicit definition to which Anglo-American readers are accustomed and with which they would feel comfortable. An uncharitable view might put this down to mere conceptual sloppiness, but if one accepts, as I do, that Adorno is one of the central aesthetic philosophers of the 2oth century, this avoidance of explicit definition might also be indicative, considering the frequency with which Adorno resorts to this term, of its centrality to his endeavor: perhaps it is the "unsayable" at the core of his entire aesthetic philosophy. From various of his writings14 I have culled the following somewhat schematized definition. Among the most significant components in the Adornian conception of material are the following: 1) The raw materials with which one composes, and 2) at the more abstract level, both historically sedimented tonal/rhythmic/ gestural materials and relationships, and rhetorical/syntactic/formal patterns and models. 3) Sedimented in material is not only the sum total of the desires, hopes, and sufferings of all individuals in a society, but the collective reservoir of potentials and restrictions of the society as a whole; these can, however, never be directly grasped (this modeled on the psychological model of manifest/latent content}, but only can appear authentically insofar as they are worked and transformed in the service of aesthetically progressive and successful artworks; in turn, their content of which can only be partially uncovered through dialectical analysis. 4) The dialectic between different aspects of material and between material and the social domain unfolds not only pseudo-naturally (that is, seemingly "of its own accord": following Marxist theory, all these aspect/elements belong to the superstructure of a society, which is intimately interwoven with yet ultimately reflects the nature of and changes in the substructure, itself constantly undergoing a self-consistent dialectical development}, but also to some degree rationally (that is, developed according to a self-consistent system-intrinsic logic}. Thus, material, as Dahlhaus often noted, serves a similar role for Adorno as the "Objective Spirit" did in the Hegelian system, emanating a tendency or even a force, appearing as moving principle of history. Granted that this definition is impossibly broad and so "metaphysical" that it defies (or evades} rational oversight (matters which cannot be discussed here}, it still possesses great potentials for supporting a progressivist conception of the arts. Perhaps the most important aspect is the third listed above, which functions as a crucial link connecting artworks with the social domain.
14 Primarily The Philosophy of Modern Music, translated by Anne G. Mitchell and Wesley V. Blomster (New York: Seabury Press, t973) and Aesthetic Theory, trans. by Robert Hullot-Kentor (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, t997).
This offers great tactical advantages: only with this link can Adorno, for example, analyze artworks and claim that their internal contradictions reveal a truth lurking under the surface of society; without this link, his analyses would be of mere artworks, their significance limited to the appeal of an art-for-art's-sake aesthetic or an academic formalism. Only with this link can Adorno both retain and subvert the Marxist paradigm, such that the progressive arts do not merely accurately reflect structural changes (this, for example, by acknowledging the "changing state of material," and working out its aesthetic consequences), but bear witness to the psychic consequences of this process; they thereby touch upon-without necessarily aiming to-the deepest, sublimated truths of society, serving (necessarily mediated by the explicatory efforts of the philosopher/analyst) as a sort of psychologist's couch for society as a whole. Thus, transformations in the new music of his time were held to possess a fundamental significance for the society that turned away in disgust from their distorted but accurate reflection; even more, this figure explains and makes significant the fact of music's-at least that regarded as authentic, i.e., new music's-transformed relationship in society and his claim for its changed function; that is, its growing marginalization and the (alleged) indispensability of its critical role. For all the "unprovability" of this conception, it possesses a flexibility, compellingness and explanatory richness perhaps unique among 2oth-century defenses of new music in maintaining these over a half-century of sustained discussion and historical wear. Perhaps the more analytically minded might attribute this solely to Adorno's literary talents, but that would involve creating a sort of firewall separating his literary and philosophical achievements, and would at any event be clearly irrelevant to the issue at hand. However such ultimate issues might be decided, I would maintain that a theoretical model that is capable of producing original compelling interpretations over a sustained period is, at least on pragmatic grounds, preferable to any that guarantees in advance absolute truths, the price of whose attainment is the banishment of everything not conclusively provable, leaving what is in the arts nothing but their most trivial residue. Thus, I would wish to retain at all reasonable costs the third component of Adorno's conception of materia/ 1s, even if this prove nothing more than a necessary fiction; that is, at least until a broader, more productive theory appear. However, it is precisely because I believe many such aspects of Adorno's conception are crucial to the future development and understanding of the art form, that it is all the more necessary to criticize its shortcomings sharply: only by eliminating the weakest links of his conception is it (perhaps) 15 However suggestive the relationship between the first two components of the Adornian conception of material, their relationship must in the long run be clarified, and perhaps even partially formalized, if this conception is to accepted as reasonable. The fourth component is clearly the most burdened by progressivist historicism. and susceptible to the critique in the fourth section of this paper.
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possible to strengthen the crucial pillars. Thus, I will focus upon its progressivehistoricist core, the central dilemma here being that of rescuing a progressive view of human cultural enterprises without falling into the pitfalls of progressivist historicism.
IV. The Skeleton in the Closet: Progressivist Historicism
It is necessary to confront two central questions concerning progressivist histor1c1sm: 1) firstly, why is the issue of progressivist historicism crucial, and 2) secondly, how and why does an unrepentant form of such a historicism constitute such a danger? 1. A fitting response to the first question is not difficult to discover: for some 150 years following Hegel, progressivist historicism in its most emphatic form -that is, the notion of reason unfolding itself in history, including the corollaries that history moves in one-way direction and that all attempts to return to earlier states, to repeat them, etc. are regressive-proved to be perhaps the most powerful driving force of both aesthetic modernism and social progressivism. Although its force has since waned, it is so deeply ingrained in our language and thought structures, and it has placed questions so fundamental for the self-understanding of modern societies, that in certain respects one can no more be uninfluenced by some form of the Hegelian conception of history than one can thoroughly unlearn all one's native language. Perhaps the clearest case of this can be found in practically all discussions advocating postmodernity: the term itself, as a "post-" something, is necessarily implicated in a progressivist notion of history: it announces the end of something and the beginning of something else which has "overcome" the former, and asserts that this change is neither a supernatural event nor a mere change of the ruling caste (that is, it is not a mere matter of authoritarianism, of raw power), but has an intrinsic significance for the entire society, seeping into every corner: the state of productive relations, the state of knowledge, the central premises of art, and so on. This term does not proudly claim that it is "pre-modern," as that would involve a restorative notion of history ("revolutionary" in the older sense of things revolving back to their proper state), and it is crucial to postmodernism that it succeed the place of modernism, not only in terms of power but according to some sort of temporalized logic: otherwise, the "overcoming" would be meaningless. Nor does it state that it is simply non-modern, which is actually a more viable claim for many of its adherents, at least in the sense that so many portray high-Modernism as a mistake, a detour of history. But once this detour has been by-passed, why should the fact that the postmodern has become "the latest thing" be of any significance if modernity did not in some sense represent a positive value? • •
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All of these viewpoints assume-however obscure their demurrals-that history is progressing in some direction, if nothing else in that a privileged vantage point is proclaimed: not surprisingly in the present, the cusp of history, the most "modern" point one could imagine. A clear case of such a self-contradictory situation can be seen in certain postmodernist philosophers' attempts to kill off the Modernist project with the proclamation "No more grand narratives." Thus, all such narratives must immediately expire upon proclamation of this fiat, whose validity is projectively extended into all posterity; certainly this is among the grandest narratives ever conceived. My views on such issues are deeply influenced by JUrgen Habermas: one cannot willy-nilly do an end-run around the aporiai of modernity. Because he has expressed himself more elegantly than I ever could, I will include several short quotations from The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity: ..Modernity can and will no longer borrow the criteria by which it takes its orientation from the models supplied by another epoch; it has to create its nonnativity out ofitself. Modernity sees itself cast back upon itself without any possibility of escape. Because the new, the modern world is distinguished from the old by the fact that it opens itself to the future, the epochal new beginning is rendered constant with each moment that gives birth to the new.... A present that understands itself from the horizon of the modern age as the actuality of the most recent period has to recapitulate the break brought about with the past as a continuous renewal.""'
However, the radical instability of this foundation, the fact that "Modernity sees itself cast back upon itself without any possibility of escape," explains the "dynamism of attempts, carried forward incessantly down to our time, to 'pin itself down.'" One form of this tendency is the search for and/or assertion of Archimedian points external to the shifting, relativist situation we find ourselves in: fixed values and essences whose claimed eternal validity is in fact a function of projected needs. This repeatedly mutates into essentialism, part of what Habermas has termed ''repeated slackening of modern time-consciousness." One of the most dynamic responses to this inertia has been the attempt to discover (or invent) effective histories for present hopes oriented toward future goals. .. • • • [Modem time-consciousness'] vitality has had to be constantly renewed by radical historical thinking.... The horizon open to the future, which is determined by expectations in the present, guides our access to the past. Always ... the future-oriented gaze is directed from the present into a past that is connected as prehistory with our present, as by the chain of a continual destiny." 11
Habermas thus provides a clear explanation of both the central role of and the need for-one ·might almost add, addiction to-radicalized effective histories in
16 Ji.irgen Habermas, The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1990), pp. 6-7.
17 Ibid., pp. 13 f.
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the Modern age. Although I agree strongly with his argument, at the same time I must note that his conception of modernity is perilously close to a progressivist historicism: it nearly oversteps its proper role as effective history belonging to a project of modernity, by claiming to be descriptive and even constitutive of the reality of "modernity." In brief, I would maintain that every progressivist historicism is an illegitimately universalized effective history, properly belonging to a single project (this concept discussed below); simultaneously I would assert that each progressivist project must necessarily project its individual effective history and ideal goals beyond its own limited domain and time. 2. The second question raised above, concerning the danger of progressivist historicism, is rooted in the constant tendency for advocates of effective histories to forget three important points. Firstly, effective histories are, as the attribute indicates, always to some degree tools, and as such carry the danger of forgetting or even suppressing the contexts of their creation in the service of achieving their ends at all costs. Secondly, radicalized effective histories-in that they serve to fulfill needs, are oriented toward resolving dilemmas, and so on-revolve around certain but not all perspectives, but should never be allowed to constitute "history," which belongs to us all. That is, they are in essence hopes, perspectives, explanations, and so on, but can never be facts, their reality can only be attested to from partial perspectives, but can never tested by a common sense; their perspective is in essence monological, ignoring (following ArendttB) the plurality of the human condition. However, due to the need for effective tools, for a historical basis, for certainty, and so on, it is in the human nature to, when allowed, illegitimately convert private interpretations into common facts, to constitute reality according to a partial plan. Thirdly, the necessity that perspectives remain open toward the future must never be allowed to deny the simple fact, alluded to above, that the future is radically unpredictable; assertions as to the inevitability that such-and-such will happen are mere projections illegitimately converted into pseudo-facts. I would suggest that the primary dangers of progressivist historicism can be divided into two broad categories.19 The first deals with the consequences of progressivist historicism when employed primarily as a means to an end; this is intended to deal with those cases in which the achievement of a large scale goal or project is believed to be so crucial that the most effective means available-in this case, progressivist historicism-are employed in its service, whether or not these means are logically or morally defensible. Thus, it is focused on the manipulative treatment-however this was consciously intended by its employers-of what was perhaps at an earlier time an important philosophical discovery and valid explanatory devise, but the unreliability and 18 Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition, 2nd ed. (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1998). 19 I must emphasize that the following is only a fragmentary account; thus, one will always be able to find exceptional cases and cases which overlap both categories.
even untruth of which had long since been demonstrated. Under this heading one can include, among other things, Adorno's frequent employment of the ironclad variant of Marxist progressivist historicism as a sort of bullying tactic to clinch his arguments, at a time in which he should rightfully have perceived its wobbly foundation. Traditionalist aestheticians, openly anti-Modernist reactionaries, and justifiers of various postmodernisms have had a field-day with such dilemmas, reveling, often with good reason, in weaknesses they spy under the bluster of teleological certainty. However, it is also in the interests of the progressively minded to be wary of employing or assenting to this tactic. This for the obvious reason that anyone can employ this tool, allowing even reactionaries to condemn, from the position of power Year 1 affords, all progressivists of Year o to irrelevance. At the least, one should remark how often over the last century the playing of this trick has had disastrous consequences for stubbornly original artists whose form of progressivism did not conform to the current party line. The second category assumes that progressivist historicism (that is, one that is intelligent, honestly intended, reasonable, and so on) constitutes a valid view of history and, even more, is literally true of history. Every such historicism must, in order to defend responsibly the truth claims of this model, confront what I believe constitute the central aporiai of every progressivist historicism. Firstly, because the justification for all actions taken in the present exists at the end of history, the temptation to declare an end to the constant insecurity cursing all those not blessed with absolute foreknowledge is almost impossible to resist; yet, by bringing the entire process to its completion, one is condemned to doing battle against those very progressive forces that were its very driving force, perhaps its very reason for existing. Secondly, any such decision is singular, but is illegitimately universalized: such a fiat can never attain legitimacy through the free acceptance of all those to whom it applies, but to some degree must be enforced upon reality, if nothing else, by raw power. For the sake of both brevity and clarity, I will outline with an extreme case. Assuming one believes firstly that a goal of history is literally attainable, secondly that as the realization of reason in history is this goal and the process of its fulfillment can claim an absolute priority over all other possible goals, and thirdly that it literally constitutes the truth, one has already fallen into what I consider the central delusion of progressivist historicism, which has over the last century so often led to murderous consequences: beginning with assumptions such as "history demands the realization of 'x,' which is its absolute goal" and "I and others will, and will strive to attain 'x,'" after long, bitter struggle-and indeed as justification of this struggle-one eventually declares, "at some point 'x' must be attained"; then, skipping many logical steps, due to "changing conditions," "the pressing crisis," etc., one soon arrives at "it is necessary to declare 'x' attained," and ultimately at the Diktat, "'x' has been attained," seemingly skipping out of the aporiai entirely.
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From this point on, every newer development must be seen as regressive, atavistic, etc., because "x" has not only been declared but literally is the goal and realization of history. Thus, one must attempt to strike down all newer developments succeeding the achievement of "x": it is not merely advisable to do so (that is, to maintain one's hold on power), but, assuming that one is of a strong ethical constitution, one is morally bound to do so. One imagines oneself standing on the cusp of history-the moral high ground-beating down all those who would lead history astray. But this line seemingly progressing infinitely forward is, I would argue, instead a whirlpool sucking one into the repetition of the eternally same. Max Weber was of the opinion that "those who play with the wheel of history will be crushed under it," but I would gladly alter this to the following: "those who temporarily master the wheel of history will probably crush others with it." In the art world, the spectacle has been endlessly repeated over the last century or more of self-proclaimed avant-gardists, upon having achieved the goal of history and decreed the latter's end, now mobilizing all their energies to ensure that their revolution is indeed the very last: smothering any fresh ideas they have not themselves conceived, or, that failing, claiming them as of their own provenance; striving to eliminate all the most powerful younger voices they cannot claim as their own progeny; in short, desperately seeking to stop time in its tracks, lest they no longer occupy its forward edge. However ridiculous (or pathetic) this all may be, I would wish to offer more solid reasons for rejecting the dead-end against which this portrayal is intended to warn. The first strongest reason I can provide for rejecting this model involves Hannah Arendt's concept of natality, the "fact" that each generation inhabits the earth for a limited time and must thereafter bequeath the earth to a following generation, requiring that a space always be left open for the radicality of a new beginning. Thus, every generation has the ineradicable right to discover the world-including deciding upon the truth or falsehood of every inherited idea-for itself. This is closely entwined with her notion of plurality, that there is no universal Subject, but only multiple subjects. Although there are many more specific reasonable grounds for rejecting the emphatic form of progressivist historicism, none to my mind can provide such comprehensive grounds for rejecting the basic premises of this model. In short, the progressivist·historicist model in its emphatic form rests upon a monologi· cat model of truth and history, whereas the model of natality denies this monomania absolutely. On this basis, I can propose at least two reasons for rejecting the monological model. Firstly, because each of us will die, the future is radically uncontrollable and unknowable. One is free to predict, forecast, will, hope for, etc., but none of these acts is a binding upon future generations (N.B. one can present future times with Kantian-type imperatives, but these are binding only if they are fully understood and agreed-to by each individual, which cannot be guaranteed of the unborn). Secondly, if this is granted, although one
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can work toward and devise methods for reliably achieving goals, there is no way-short of a philosophical sleight of hand-that the aims, tactics, and so on necessary to achieving these goals can be reasonably equated with the realization of reason or truth in the world {even should both notions be reduced to their functionalist analogues, which would prove to be self-defeating: there would be no subject left in this picture-whether transcendental or not-to enjoy their success). Thus, every progressivist historicist model that refuses to distinguish between partial goal and common reality in effect decrees reality for the future, denying the birthright of every future generation to discover its own truths and project its own possible futures. A second reason for rejecting the progressivist-historicist model is simpler: it attempts to reduce truth, which is common to all, to a mere instrument in the service of its goals. Thus, it cannot face any uncomfortable truths: firstly it must ignore any facts not comprehensible by the theory {which is initially not a major sin), and secondly after achieving a certain degree of success it inevitably works to inhibit any further growth of knowledge {which is unforgivable). For a clear case illustrating these tendencies, I will refer to the one of central projects of the Second Viennese School, that of encouraging and even enforcing the assimilation of 12-tone ET ("ET" • equal temperament) upon listeners, performers, and analysts. This project was crucial for the proper performance of the music of the composers of this school, was extended by the radical post-WWII generation of new music composers, and has since to an astonishingly high degree been realized, even by many classical, "mainstream" musicians. However, as universalized into a·progressivist historicism, this ideology has in many cases impeded understanding of the historical record 20, has gravely distorted the intonational practice for classical music, and is currently serving as perhaps the most effective blockade to exploration of microtonality. This was certainly among the best-conceived of all progressivist historicisms. Its justifications were admirably historically-informed by the standards of their day, casting an effective history based on both the gradual increase in chromaticism over several hundred years of musical history, and the increasing tendency to treat intervals and intervallic combinations as abstract (that is, maintaining a high degree of identity upon undergoing the operations of transposition, inversion, etc.) relations, for the comprehension and further development of which 12-tone ET was the best solution. A broadly-diffused means of furthering and testing the assimilation of 12-tone ET was readily available in the piano, and a complete redesign of all existing musical instruments and no~ation 20 A charge which, incidentally, can also be made against their arch-foes, the innovators in the field of
just intonation. It must be emphasized that radical innovators such as Sch()nberg or Harry Partch should not be held accountable to the highest factual standards in the early phases of their projects, lest all potential discoveries be aborted by theoretical correctness. It is later, after these projects have already built up momentum, that their partial goals and effective histories must be scrupulously measured against a shared reality.
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along these lines was planned in detail. A utopia was forecast in which composers could realize their visions with a thoroughgoing motivically-derived musical logic using tonal combinations barely conceivable without the broad diffusion of 12-tone ET. Yet no matter how admirable this conception, it, typical of progressivist historicisms, reveals its weakest links at the moment it oversteps its role of project and claims to be the literal truth of all of the past, present and futµre. This is particularly revealed in its backward projection. That more chromaticism and enharmonicism is apparent in Wagner than in Leonin is undeniable, but the "development" connecting them is not a simple linear process, or even a complex linear process 21, but includes at least three distinct tuning paradigms-not to speak of at least that many fundamental changes in the tonal grammar-irreducible to any single historical vector. Thus, for example, in the music of Gesualdo, so often treated as a mere forerunner of Wagner, the dissonances are conceived in a fundamentally different manner than those of his supposed heir; in fact, the capability for fine chromatic distinctions earlier projected on the basis of mean/just intonation (although their compositional significance is debatable) surpassed-at least theoretically-those available to Wagner. To take a case closer to our time, thanks to the filters imposed by the ET project it is still commonly maintained (even in standard textbooks, this after several decades' accumulation of evidence challenging this point) in effect that Johann Sebastian Bach, through some fluke, must have misnamed his Wei/Tempered Clavier, having instead intended it for a modern form of equal temperament. On the front of performance practice, the partisans of equal temperament, despite great opposition, achieved remarkable successes in propagating 12tone ET as a universal solution for the performance of classical music. Indeed, it nearly succeeded in eliminating most competing approaches lacking such theoretical armature, at least until anomalies in the ET backward-projection began to appear and a more historically informed approach could develop around the original-instrument movement. However, the central pillars of the argument -that 12-tone ET represents an incontestable technical and musical improve-
21 Whether, for example, Hegelian/Marxist, Weberian, or even Heideggerian in nature. It is doubtful
that even a powerful abstraction such as Max Weber's vector of rationalization would now be capable of fully comprehending the complexity of these historical developments, the full details of which were not available in his time, are still missing in our own, and will almost certainly be lacking in the future. Indeed, if one accepts a fundamental historicist argument, namely that every present to some degree recasts its understanding of the historical record-always containing too much irrelevant information and lacking elusive supporting evidence-on the basis of its own self-understanding, then at no point before the end of time itself can an exhaustively complete historical record exist. Thus, such abstractions can never be literally true of history and must be accepted to some degree as necessary fictions. However, it is equally obvious that some of these are more responsible to the accumulating historical record and possess far greater explanatory power than others.
ment, part and parcel of the realization of a necessary historical process-are in fact questionable. Although thanks to the partisanship for 12-tone ET a great deal was gained in intonational consistency and reliability, much was also lost in the functional differentiation as well as both the characteristic sonority and the expressive quality of intervals, currently compensated for by the imposition of a constant high-energy vibrato damaging most interpretations of classical music. 22 In addition, the great influence of 12-tone ET on 19th-century music was to a great degree historically contingent, dependent on the broad diffusion of pianos among, and their central role in the music-making in the "good society" of this era. In the face of the profusion of then-current tuning approaches, 12-tone ET was the simplest, but not the best solution, a practical compromise that eliminated many fine and musically significant distinctions well-recognized by leading composers and performers throughout the 19th and early 2oth centuries. On the "front end" of this projection, the repressive nature of progressivist historicism is particularly revealed. In most respects, the broad acceptance of 12-tone ET and the generally high level of its accomplishment have been beneficial for composers, allowing, for example, the exploration of more complex ET-intervallic structuring than possible at earlier times. However, the moment composers began to investigate microtonal potentials, the formerly progressivist partisans of 12-tone ET (in effect) responded with the Diktat "12-tone ET is the realized end of history." That is, those very musicians whose worldview was formed by a radical Modernist project, in typical progressivist-historicist fashion transformed the assumed realization of this project's aims into a barricade blocking non-authorized further developments: they became the most virulent opponents of any further developments in the ET domain, the new "ground" they themselves had helped create. Thus, over the last 40-some years compos· ers exploring microtonal ET resources (24-tone ET, and so on)-which are after all a logical development of the 12-tone ET progressivist project, winning back a qualitative distinction between intervals which the 12-tone ET project succeeded in greying-out-have consistently had to answer to the most blatant nonsense: that quarter-tones are unplayable, unhearable, and so forth, assertions that, no matter how fervently anyone may desire them to be truth, have no basis in reality. V. Progressivist Historicism Re-conceptualized: the Progressivist Project
•
The paradoxical nature of the task I have set myself should by now be clear: on the one hand, I support aesthetic progressivism wholeheartedly, and view those progressivisms seeking to validate the "the new" as crucial for nurturing and 22
I am arguing only with the backward projection of 12-tone ET onto earlier music, not with its almost unqualified superiority for the realization of most high-Modernist works, for which this degree and
Musical Progress? -
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Cox
defending the efforts of radically original composers. On the other hand, it seems as though I am pulling the rug out from under my feet by criticizing projectivist historicism so harshly, using arguments not distant from those sometimes employed by postmodernists and conservatives. I can only excuse myself by noting that although those criticisms have indeed aimed at capsizing progressivism, in my case they are intended to fortify it. The task here is to discover a conception of progressive historical thinking which does not lay claim to constitute history, to actually be history, but rather to realize as much as possible of its substance within history. The provisional solution I can offer for this dilemma is to reconceive progressivist historicism in the terms of a progressivist project. In line with an Adornian conception, I would maintain that each project is irritated into existence by some substantial problem 2 3 that also offers great potential. In attempting to confront and respond to this problem, it inevitably intends to influence the course of events: it projects a possible future. But in order to ground and give depth to this projection, the project need achieve a degree of self-reflection: it must fashion an effective history, which must possess an immanent, self-consistent logic but also should be as multifaceted as the history it covers. This in turn reveals new potentials latent in the originary situation, and makes yet more determinate the projected aims. 2 4 However, such projects, due to their end-orientation, easily descend into and become synonymous with purposive-rational circuits: because progress is easiest to measure if quantifiable, goals will tend to become scarcely distinguishable from the apparatus of their measurement. 2 s Therefore, it is necessary to distinguish explicitly the progressivist project from any merely functional
type of accuracy is appropriate. See ..Notes Towards a Performance Practice of Complex Music," in Polyphony & Complexity, Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, Frank Cox, and Wolfram Schurig, eds. (•New Music and Aesthetics in the 215t Century, vol. t) (Hofheim: Wolke, 2002), pp. 70-132, for a further discussion.
23 That is, a problem both deeply sedimented in the material of any art form and only .. readable" through it, yet whose scope resists confinement to art-intrinsic concerns, rather opening up into broader and more fundamental issues.
24 Although I would never treat a conception from the sciences as authoritative for the arts-I believe that these are fundamentally distinct domains of knowledge, and should never be collapsed one onto the other-I found lmre Lakatos' conception of a research program (in The Methodology of Scientific Research Programmes [Cambridge, New York: Cambridge University Press, 1978D both illuminating and intriguingly similar to what I was aiming at with my notion of a progressivist project.
25 It is thus imperative to provide critical orientation for all those highly technical research domains that proffer an untold wealth of new resources-microtonality, complex rhythms, new timbral potentials, computer music, and so on-this along the lines of progressivist projects that might grant them substantial purpose and the potential for meaningfulness not restricted to the participants. For an explanation of my concept of a .. projective art" and a portrayal of several broadlyconceived projects which I consider of central concern, see my ..Ann~herungen an eine Projektive Kunst," in Musik & Asthetik 13 (2000), pp. 79-85.
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conception, and here Adorno's conception of material is critical: in short, the worth of every project can only be measured by the substantial claim it makes on the future, its depth by the breadth of effective history it can comprehend. In all these respects, a project is not dissimilar to a progressivist historicism. It is in its understanding of history and its response both to the imperative of truth and to the fundamental conditions of natality and plurality that all the difference lies: a project can differentiate its aims-what is intended-from what actually occurs, allowing a space necessary for critical distance. A project is eminently corrigible, because it recognizes that it cannot comprehend all facts, every detail that has ever or ever will occur; therefore, although it can attempt to influence history, it has no right to claim that it is history itself. To paraphrase Arendt, history-because it is made by many humans and not Mankind, and by successive generations, including those no present can yet have encountered-cannot move linearly. Each arrow cast from an effective past into a possible future is cast against the ground of history, but is not identical to it; there will always remain a residue to history, because it is greater than the sum total of all projects. Where projects lose perspective is, as with progressivist historicism, at the end-knowing when the project has been achieved, has lost its energy or has simply run itself out. Thus, I would emphasize that every project, in the sense I conceive it, is both radically contingent and mortal: it recognizes that it might fail and will expire. If it could swallow all the past, the present, and the future, it would become both all-comprehending and undying, but it would also surrender exactly that which gave it life in the first place: the dissonential spark it strikes against an insufficient present.
Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf
Reflection, Critique, Utopia, Messianicity. Criteria of Modern Music Or: How Far Does the Notion of Musical Deconstruction Carry?
I.
The distinction between new music and contemporary music 1 has neither become superfluous nor is it a purely ideological distinction. New Music was the name applied to the music of the early 2oth century, in particular the Second Viennese School, to indicate a radical rupture with concert tradition; this entailed a break with the traditional audience, which felt itself exposed to something emphatically new (and this in more than merely a formal sense), so new that the foundation of the bond between music and the audience was, if not broken, certainly thoroughly disturbed. Contemporary music, on the other hand, is simply the name given to all musical production in a given present, unburdened by the aforementioned demand for the new or by a comparable effect of being so emphatically estranged. The dialectic of the new is familiar. It ages. Indeed doubly so: formally through mere temporal distance, and principally in the sense that the concept of newness becomes so reflexive at a certain point that it loses its directness, and thus becomes problematic. If, then, New Music wishes to remain New Music, it must not only be constantly creative and innovative, i.e., an embodiment of the living present, but must furthermore renew the concept of the new itself, by this redefinition extending its frame of reference beyond the "mere" present. This is neither impossible, nor does it lead automatically (as is frequently claimed) to a linear dynamic of one-upmanship (the categories discussed here contain no linear connection, and I have made a point of avoiding the terms progress, truth, and avant-garde). It is my theory that initially New Music represented an exceptional situation (Ausnahmezustand), one that pertained throughout the 2oth century and still persists today. By an "exceptional situation" I mean one in which composers' creativity (their "stubbornness") cannot easily be integrated into the conditions of concert-life and the needs of the public, in which the works rather have to laboriously overcome resistance and are accepted only reluctantly, this achievement requiring several degrees of mediation through (for example) research, 1
Translator's note: the symbolic and potentially polemical quality of the term Neue Musik is not equalled by its English equivalent; while the terms new music and contemporary music are relatively interchangeable for English-speakers, their German correlates have a distinct qualitative difference. In order to emphasize this difference, I shall consistently use italics for all such uses of the word new, and write .. New Music" rather than .. new music."
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critique and intellectual opinion. Why is this the case? Why was it not possible for New Music to be sufficiently integrated that it could become contemporary music, so that this distinction would disappear, and thus a reconciliation and a return to the unity of concert-life could be achieved? There are several reasons: 1. The surplus of historical music, which already amply satisfies the needs of the public; 2. The extreme time lag in the acceptance of earlier New Music, which in turn distracts from present New Music; 3. The ubiquitous, almost mythical presence of popular music of all kinds (including occasional music, jazz, music for film and dance, as well as industrialized pop), in which tonality-with all its characteristics-is deeply sedimented. There is a fourth reason implicit within the matter itself (die Sache selbst): the increasing autonomy of the arts as a social sub-system with a stubborn logic of its own. One can-as I indeed do-interpret the atonal revolution, and consequently all successive ones, as a further step in music's self-becoming, as a form of self-liberation subject no longer to the music's utility value, but rather its real value. In this sense, New Music represents something that has come into the world too early, which can only later-if at all-be truly appreciated-by which time, paradoxically enough, it is no longer new. Why this is so-and our experience of the 2oth century irrefutably teaches us this-is admittedly an uncommonly sensitive historico-philosophical question, whose solution would reveal as much about the "state of humanity" as it would about music. It is my belief that New Music is only justified as an exceptional situation if it takes this exceptionality seriously, i.e., precisely abstains from the attempt to become contemporary music. This is a double-edged situation; the advantage is a greater independence from market needs, the disadvantage a lack of recognition that proves too much to bear for some. "Justification" is here of a social, as it were culturo-political nature (notwithstanding the fact that most cultural politicians abhor this dialectic). Financing a highly-subsidized form of music-something which should not be taken for granted-can only be justified if this art form consequently realizes itself as it authentically is. This was presumably what Adorno meant when he postulated that in the state of modernity, only radical works can "function," and this only by risking failure. In the case of New Music, compositional genius and shrewd invention are insufficient categories: there must be something more. It is my theory that the necessity of such a surplus is a very part of historical development since Beethoven. This demand is not, therefore, simply a formal consequence of the novelty principle, which, once spawned, survives only by constantly outdoing itself. It is rather a demand induced by a composer who, at the beginning of the bourgeois era, through its own initial failure, initiated a process which-for it cannot be ignored-can at the most
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be denied: the process of modernization, i.e., the infiltration of music itself by modernity. Naturally Beethoven struck a new note; this is evident from the Third Symphony onwards at the latest. This newness was not, however, the new of New Music, as it was not only accepted by the public, but also indeed perceived as an authentic expression of the new era following the French Revolution. The audience reached its limits, nonetheless, with the experiments of his late works, which baffle us even today; not simply by their multiplicity, but above all by their boldness and because we cannot understand why Beethoven-in so short a time, and as a one-man-venture-did all this. I wish to argue that Beethoven, in his late works, inaugurated the first of four criteria of modern music: reflexivity (Reflexion). Reflexivity in the modern sense is not simply the composer's reflection upon his work and his intellectual or spiritual foundation (this would mean that Bach and others were not distant from the condition of reflexivity); a particular-modern-form of reflexivity becomes necessary when music's very basis becomes problematic, but also -as a form of compensation-accessible to subjective freedom. This freedom is already an issue in Beethoven's early period; only in the late works, however, is reflection applied to the music itself. This means that only then does the actual music become reflexive. By this I mean not only that Beethoven conducts formal and technical experiments, but above all that one can hear how the music enters into a relationship with itself, how it-so to speak-observes itself. The Diabelli Variations are a paradigmatic example. This work only initially constitutes "music about music" (a commentary on another composer's work), and in truth consists of a cycle of different reflections upon music and particular expressive or material dimensions. There are repeated interruptions, in which a particular aspect is focused on, assessed and evaluated; conclusions are drawn from such an examination insofar as the music gradually becomes completely different: at the end of this process, a minuet is heard as if from another world. The music itself bestows a different aspect upon itself. The work's aesthetic stems not only from the composer's own reflection; it is rather in itself reflexive. Unquestionably, reflexivity continues to be important. Two things prove this: firstly, reflection upon current technical and aesthetic principles became imperative upon the advent of atonal music (in particular in the sequence of Second Viennese School, First Darmstadt School [1950s and 1960s], Freiburg School [1970s and 198osD as a compensation for the abolition of traditional standards. Secondly, a lack of reflexivity becomes audible, a·nd causes us to interpret it as an expression of insufficient modernity; what disturbs us about Hindemith's folk-like merriment 2 is the pretence that such music could convey that kind of expression-and one can sense how few doubts the music has 2
Translator's note: there is no precise English equivalent for musikantisch. While the term's tra-
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about the matter (whereas Lachenmann's treatment of this quality seems far more authentic); the same could be said of Henze's loquacity, which seems unaware of how voluble it is. And indeed Mahler's music seems more modern today than that of his rival Richard Strauss, owing to the inestimably higher degree of its internal reflection. Once reflection has become a constituent part of music, it conversely also becomes part of the extra-musical process of self-understanding (Selbstverstiindigungsprozesses), and thus part of the cultural discourse (starting with Wagner's writings, and reaching fruition in the unending debate concerning the status of New Music). It is my theory that the next criterion to develop is that of critique. This notion was formulated only relatively late, if one places Beethoven at the start of the modernization process. Only towards the end of the 1960s did Nono, realizing that compositional critique could only be grasped if related to society and its dominant culture, formulate an unambiguous definition of critique. Admittedly, critique already had some effect in the 19th century, when a need was felt to demarcate one's own position in relation to those among contemporaries or precursors-for example, in Wagner's case-but also in the controversy over the New German School. Atonality can also be interpreted as a critique of the established-namely, the still tonal-idiom, even if an explicitly critical stance was foreign to Schonberg and his two better-known students. It was only after 1945 that critique of this kind appeared, which took on a decidedly antagonistic form with those avant-gardists who relied on the denunciation of their elders to establish themselves. While this-ahistorical-attack was admittedly a career trick (only possible at such a "zero hour"), it possessed elements of substantial critique, such as the discrepancy in Schon· berg's music between advanced pitch/interval treatment and regressive morphology (such as rhythmic, motivic, and thematic shaping). Critique could, therefore, be a productive force in achieving new phenomena. Of course, the conclusions from such a generationally-determined definition of critiquewhich ultimately leads to a paradox-had not yet been drawn. Once the problem being criticized is solved, the critique loses its raison d'etre; thus, the success in establishing the new begs the question as to where the critical potential is in this new musical language. Simply being different is not enough. Music can only be critical when it succeeds in remedying a deficit of modern authenticity-the very point of critical practice. Yet this, strictly speaking, renders the music in the strictest sense not so much critical as true. If it is to be critical, however, it requires something yet more. This was precisely Nono's point (later taken up by a number of German students) in demanding that the newest materials be not •
dition- which its use automatically invokes-cannot be elaborated upon in this context, its primary quality is conveyed by such paraphrases as I have employed.
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CLAUS· STEFFEN MAHNKOPF
simply used (as by Stockhausen), but rather applied with critical intent.3 This critique is not directed primarily at music, however, rather at the social and cultural factors determining it. It is a decidedly sociological argument that these influence the whole of musical aesthetics at least as much as the-in a manner of speaking-pre-social linguistic principles traceable in music's development, one that was only recognized after the great tide of innovations in the post-war era. The theory which Adorno, as a Marxist musical sociologist, attempted to establish, became here a form of compositional consciousness (Bewu{3tsein): the theory that critique, as a criterion of modern music, is always a social category. At this point-at the latest-when critique becomes recognizable as such, when it comes into its own, it can, nay must be connected to the first criterion. From this point onwards, it is to be expected of modern music that this critique-whatever its concrete forms may be (critique of taste, for example) -should be reflexively contained within the music as a form of social critique. If, therefore, one combines the principles of critique and reflection, a certain unease in the face of spectral music becomes logical: technologically speak· ing, it is reflexive, being fully aware of its own means, which have been explored with the greatest thoroughness; this, however, is not accompanied by any critique of the status quo (to put it polemically, one could state that, on the contrary, it is interested precisely in the perpetuation of a beauty-aesthetic of the most traditional cut). Cage, on the other hand, fulfilled the critical criterion by conceiving an aesthetic of unmasking; whether this stance is sufficiently reflexive (or rather is by-and-large na"ive) is an issue of consid· erable debate.4 But even critique-seen in this manner as socio-critical-falls foul of a twofold paradox. For one thing, the attempt at negation always remains fixated upon that which is being negated, and can thus not sufficiently liberate itself from that which, strictly speaking, should be overcome (accompanied by the risk of didacticism, even propaganda, or alternatively of a mere commentary upon something pre-existent); for another thing, the music would automatically become superfluous if the target of critique were, on a political/sociological level, to be eliminated. Yet such-ultimately functional-music contradicts the autonomous status of the modern arts. It is little surprise, then, that the concept of critique-both temporally and in the choice of its protagonists-is closely connected to that of utopia. 3
See: "[Leonardo Pinzauti] "Anche lei pero usa degli ultimi progressi tecnologici, come Stockhausen.' [Luigi Nono] •certo. Ma in modo critico, contra ii sistema che Ii ha prodotti"' QLP] .. But you also make use of the latest technical achievements, like Stockhausen." [LN] ..Certainly, but in a critical manner, against the system which produced them"). In ..A colloquia con Luigi Nono. Di Leonardo Plnzauti," in Luigi Nono, Scritti e colloqui, vol. 2 (=Le sfere, vol. 35) (Milano/Lucca: Casa Ricardi/LIM Editrice 2001), p. 88.
4
Cf. Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, ed., Mythos Cage (Hofheim: Wolke, 1999).
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... ....
In other words: reflexive composing is the awareness of the non-universality of its material, its technique, and inherent stylistic implications, i.e., an awareness of the atonal situation, even when atonality was as yet an unknown phenomenon. Composing becomes critical through the necessity of distancing itself from history, and thus from the repertoire-saturated musical culture among contemporaries; this is commonly combined with a left-wing social theory, i.e., cultural critique. Both aspects are today considered, on the one hand, self-evidently integral (by virtue of having been established by an earlier generation), on the other hand by no means indispensable (because exorcized from the younger generation). The present version, one that can do justice to both these positive "values," must take a further step, namely that of utopia. Yet utopia can be seen either as articulating an experience of great wealth (and as intending a transcendence of content), or as an experience of poverty, namely that of its own impracticability. This step towards utopia can be explained historically as a reply to the loss of utopia in the neo-liberal era, which loss even stabbed post-modernism-in its innovative and subversive aspects -in the back. By "utopia," I mean a compositional and artistic attitude whose productivity assumes a cultural situation as non-existent, or as yet non-existent. This means exaggerated, as it were unrealistic demands concerning the effect of one's own work, assuming these adhere to a culturally legitimate agenda (we recall Beethoven's justified wish to reach and unify the whole of humanity), as well as technical, generally instrumentally-related imperatives which anticipate something not yet manifest, something which has yet to be achieved. Utopia, then, is that which prevents critique from remaining mere critique; it ensures it an independent program, which it in turn contributes to musical culture, in its own form, as something other, something new, which can only be assimilated through learning processes. The utopian is that which stubbornly transcends composing's critical relationship to the world as it is, thus ensuring the music's autonomy (and artistic substance). But utopia is also a question of personality; Ligeti, Kagel and Berio-who, even postmodern, remain modern insofar as they never became, like Penderecki, anti-modern-are (like Boulez) less interested in utopia than in the most perfect and brilliant representation possible of their works; for them, this is enough. Their music demands no substantial change in our understanding of music. Yet this was precisely what the term "avant-garde"-in each case from its own historical situation-had originally intended. It is my theory that even utopia becomes trapped in an aporia. Firstly, it initially lacks a direction (Nono was a revolutionary, and thus fundamentally interested in change as such, as the questioning or the collapse of the status quo would already constitute a form of progress) or deals only with a single aspect, without conceptually reflecting upon the whole of society. As its reflection progresses, however, utopia too must consider what it really wants, and
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how this relates to society as a whole. Secondly, utopias-for example, one in which the ear would become accustomed to atonality or even microtonality, in which playing techniques would be refined, in which audiences would become more open-relate to specific deficits in the light of their surmountability, and thus their conquest. Under the increasing pressure of precisely such utopian projects. conditions change; what once seemed a utopian notion can, in time, become possible, perhaps even the standard. Utopia as an expression of a critique of the status quo- because it does not truly permit the realization of the possible-must therefore, if it is to retain its critical quality, become more radical. I would argue that utopia has always been connected to radical change; in this context Nono. once again, takes on a central role. It was he who brought the idea of critique to fruition (in contrast to other serialists and post-serialists). at the same time introduced the utopian idea into New Music; he achieved this in his late works by demanding. even implying a new form of listening (also adding to his definition of critique a doubt that was lacking in his perhaps too affirmative early and middle works). Nona's exceptional significance among post-war composers lies in the fact that he fulfilled two criteria of modern music, and not just one, as Beethoven did. Indeed, in certain respects he even approached the fourth criterion, namely the messianic (mediated by Cacciari in the case of Prometeo).s Before I deal with this, however, I would like to expand upon the modern definition of utopia. Beethoven's utopia was the revolutionary stimulation of humanity in favor of a universal fraternity. Wagner had one utopia that was fulfilled, namely the Bayreuther Festspiele (for which Das Rheingold was intended, whose realization was impossible at the time the score was completed), and one that was not, namely the purification of mankind through the experience of the universally human quality found in myth, resulting in a radical change in society and a move towards radical democracy. Schonberg, who unlike Beethoven and Wagner had no political agenda (at least before his adoption of the cause of Judaism). had the utopian vision that atonality would one day become second musical nature (precisely this never happened). The serialist utopia (at least that of Boulez) was that of structural listening (this was sporadically achieved in the New Music discourse; today, however, in a time of progressively non-functional listening. it is once again becoming a utopia). Cage's utopia was the Zen Buddhist reconciliation of man and nature, which amounted to a vision of peace and justice for the realm of (stubborn) objects (he failed to meet the 5
. Klaus Huber is also interested in the musical representation of messianicity-an example is his work Sen{korn, which he prudently Incorporated in his political oratorio Emiedrigt - GeknechtetVerlassen - Verachtet .. . albeit from a Christian perspective. What Huber and Nono have in common is that their efforts in this context draw on throwbacks to the "good old days" (Bach aria [Senfkorn1 reduction of means and "archaic" harmony [in Das atmende KlarseinD. thus searching to re-establish unity with nature; in my view. however, messianicity must be conceived as a radically futuristic category.
requirements of critique, however, or those of music-immanent reflection). Feld man's utopia was the conversion of music to the "intellectual dimension," which he saw as originating with Beethoven. Ferneyhough's utopia is that of a difficult music. The complexist vision of utopia is that of an extremely fast, agile, (re)active and intelligent music. Nono's utopia was a new form of listening, for which the way first had to be paved by a form of pre-music that questioned the very conditions of listening. My personal utopia is, following on from Feldman and Nono, the attainment of a music saturated with wordliness, for whose horizon Nono composed his pre-music and Feldman his musicbeyond-music; in other words, that music should be as complex, as "literary" as the world and its problems. It is striking that those utopias which failed did so not on account of musical or technical problems and inhibitions, but rather social ones. It is therefore necessary to introduce a term for that which is categorically other, something lying beyond the unchanged or unchangeable society. I shall attempt this with the term messianicity. This messianic quality is implicit in the three other categories: reflection is also a means of music's self-realization, i.e., its fundamental completion of music in its essence as entirely fulfilled music. Critique is also an expression of an unease at the status quo, with the additional ethical dimension of real action in favor of a "wholly liberated music" (Adorno). Utopia is also the attempt to achieve the concrete change it anticipates. As, however, the reason for most utopias' partial or non-realization is a social one, it is society that must be changed, this is precisely what New Music anticipates, indeed demands, this is its normative content. Yet, as a radical change in society-i.e., its transition to the messianic age of rational, universal timeliness-cannot occur on command (this would be idealistically utopian), music must strive for this messianic quality in musical terms. In other words, it must-beginning anew now, at the start of the 21St century-draw its conclusions from the fact that atonality has not become second nature, that a new form of listening has not been achieved, that taste has not substantially changed, and so on. An early paradigm for the intrusion of the messianic into music is the oboe solo on an orchestral fermata in the reprise of the first movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. Unlike the trumpet signal in Fidelio, it follows no extra-musical semantics, yet manages-not coincidentally-to rupture the most consistently teleological formal process in Beethoven's reuvre by confronting it with something entirely different (mit einem ganz Differenten konfrontiert). It is not an opening, rather the very epitome of opening: unprepared, sudden, like a gift; occurring, yet at the same time brief and elusive, inconsequential-an apparition. The messianic is not a material demand. In its scale it exceeds utopia, as it concerns the whole-the whole of music and society-yet is also more deficient, as it cannot even name goals relating concretely and positively to society
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and the context of its life. A music of the future is by definition impossible. 6 The future cannot be anticipated. Whoever makes such a claim for their music reveals either authoritarian (Wagner's music is by no means free of this), repressive (like much of the music stemming from socialist realism) or fascist characteristics (in this sense, Stockhausen is a false, i.e., thoroughly ideological messianist). Nor does messianicity imply the musical sketching of a desired or feared future, but rather an "other" connection to the present. This connection comprises firstly a transferal of the totality of historical musical phenomena to a radical present, secondly the authenticity of a maximally kairological expression of this radical present (this also implies the composer's sensitivity to all that is not possible on account of being untimely), and thirdly the visionary talent for the invention of something as yet unheard of and inconceivable. The first of these criteria, being inclusive, guarantees a certain substance, the second, being exclusive, prevents ''poor taste," and the third ensures a surplus that goes beyond reflection and critique. Whether this is indeed more than utopia, namely messianic, depends on whether it succeeds in articulating an aesthetic idea that stands for a new holistic vision of music, culture, and society (or at least in provoking such a vision in its critical reception). The "other" connection to the present combines the contemplation of life-experience with the examination of the horizons of one's own life from an immanentist perspective (typical in the post-war era), without making compromises at the technical level, i.e., without becoming guilty of treachery towards reflection and critique (this distinguishes it from Stockhausen's later position). Two remarks should be appended to this: t. Messianicity is here referred to not in a Christian sense, as a terminal point in the future at which music-like culture-would be delivered from its problems and unfulfilled visions. I rather allude to a Jewish view found in the works of Benjamin and Adorno. This deals with art's contribution to a radical present in the light of a revolutionary change of real-life conditions for the sake of a different-a "reasonable," meaningful-future which is precisely not to be expected, but which rather-for artists and audiences (Rezipienten) alike (for they have to be moved in some way by art)-must feverishly be made a project (but not only in a critical-negational manner, hoping for a dialectical transformation 1, but rather creative, innovative, undividedly inventive). Messianicity thus goes beyond what Rilke remarked to Rodin: not "you must change your life" but "we must change our life." 2. Messianicity is less a concrete aesthetic or compositional practice than an artistic stance. Common to Schonberg, Feldman and Nono is the notion of an entirely other music, not only critique or a utopia dealing only with individual 6
Translator's note: the German word Zukun{tsmusik is used colloquially for anything not yet attainable, but translates literally as music of the future.
7
In this sense, Spahlinger is not a messianist.
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aspects. Because, however, it is not a compositional system, one cannot expect a composer's entire output to be characterized by it; not every work can commit itself to such a truly extraordinary task.
II.
I spoke of the task facing New Music now, at the start of the 21St century, namely to draw conclusions from its failures to date; this results from the consideration that it would otherwise entirely forfeit its legitimation. From this situation, I derive the hope that concentrating on "messianist" issues in New Music can provide a necessary strength and stimulating impulse. This is also because messianicity has become a global task, following our realization that "first world" nations must be given a qualitative shock for their ecologically-and thus also economically-deviant mismanagement and the corresponding sedimentation of their own delusional superstructure. I would therefore like to examine certain aspects and potentials of deconstruction in the following pages. Then we shall see to what extent deconstruction is capable of approaching such a "messianic project." 8 The fundamental principle of musical deconstruction is non-identity. In order for anything to be non-identical, it must first be determinate (bestimmt). Musical non-identity, non-identical composition, has nothing to do with imprecision; on the contrary, it is the logical continuation of the high-modernist ideal of a compositional approach that is consistently constructive, consistently reflects upon this constructionism, and "purifies" it according to critical standards. Musical non-identity thus takes identity as its point of departure, subsequently rendering it non-identical. Not only does this contradict expectations; it flies in the face of tradition and taste. Tradition-including the revolt of the avant-garde-strives for musical transparency, clarity, intelligibility; this is ultimately the expression of an ideal of sonic presence as the bearer of a musical idea that can only be connoted by this one specific sound. As regards a work's intention, tradition is concerned with the definition of an aesthetic content, whatever "statement" this content is bent on making. As far as taste is concerned, sonic pleasure, in the sense of a hedonistic act of devourment, is still what is expected. It is expected-by the bourgeois pub/icum that flees from atonality, just as much by the pop masses and even one such as Lachenmann: "sensuality," sonic wealth and its consumption. Deconstruction seeks to combat such ideals; but not by discarding them on 8
See Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, "Der Strukturbegriff der musikalischen Dekonstruktion," in Muslk & Asthetik 21 (2002), also, "Musikalische Zukunft heute - oder: Was heiBt musikalische Dekonstruktion?," in Hermann Danuser and Herfried MUnkler, eds., Zukunftsbilder. Richard Wagners Revolution und ihre Folgen in Kunst und Politik (Schliengen: Edition Argus, 2002).
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CLAus·STEFFEN MAHNKOPF
principle. For it seeks to redeem the sensual just as much as the semantic and logically structured. What it does reject is their a-critical appropriation, their lack of reflection upon the fact that they are all but natural or obvious. Deconstruction wishes to transform these ideals into a version of internal critique more "mature" through its stronger correspondence to modernity. This is its utopia (which cannot, of course, be guaranteed by method or sheer artistic will). There are several deconstructive strategies: t. Working with different degrees of parametric information between two or more limits, e.g., between the rhythmic and the a-rhythmic domain (or between various different rhythmic types). 2. Suspending the clarity (ln-der-Schwebe-Halten) of musical phenomena -why should the relationship between clarity and unclarity not itself be thematicized? 3. Combining contradictory strategies; this implies not only contrary processes or divergent formal plans: one could, for example, succumb to the idea of creating a richly-differentiated harmonic framework and simultaneously deharmonize it, or design a musical space and simultaneously perforate it to such a degree that it hardly constitutes a space any longer. 4. Working with "intensification phenomena of dialectics" (Steigerungsphlinomenen der Dialektik): paradoxes, ambiguity, discrepancies, aporiai, or "dead ends" are the preferred aims of deconstructive composition. The aim is in each case the making nonidentical of identities or determinates (Bestimmtheiten), without which music, on the most basic level, cannot survive. Let us now consider deconstructive strategies with reference to various parameters. t. How are we to define non-identity in the realm of pitch, that most stable and thus most identical of all parameters? The demand for non-identity is the strongest argument for microtonality, which is not applied for the sake of harmonic color, but rather to refine the division of frequencies at least to such a degree as to obstruct the recognition of intervals and absolute pitches. These pitches thus become independent entities as opposed to scalar representatives. Harmony is obliged to meet the same demand; microtonal chords should be constructed so as to deviate from familiar patterns, i.e., from any similarity to "nature"-this comprising both tonal and spectral elements, the latter imitating overtone structures.9 Microtonal harmony must-even if it cannot dispense with such fixed points as tone-centers-be made sufficiently flexible to counteract 9
This does not mean that deconstructive, non-identical composition need abstain from making use of spectrausm•s harmonic achievements-it usually suffices to respond to such chords with minimal displacements or additions in order to render them non-identical. See Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, ..Theses Concerning Harmony Today," in Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf. Frank Cox. and Wolfram Schurig, eds., Polyphony & Complexity(• New Music and Aesthetics in the 2ist Century, vol.1) (Hofheim: Wolke. 2002). pp. 65-69.
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heuristically-implemented hierarchies just enough to achieve non-identity (as emphatically opposed to diffuseness or even chaos). 2. The rhythmic language must be made more flexible, as agogics have always demanded, although traditionally these have rarely been notated. Rendering rhythm non-identical-in its durations, morphemes, accent relations etc. -can be achieved by interlocking tuplets and additive rhythms, which in combination effect a degree of refinement comparable to microtonality. 3. In the realm of timbre and playing techniques, homophonic color-mixtures are no longer an option, being a trademark of the romantic orchestra, especially that of Wagner. Two functionally effective methods, on the other hand, are firstly transitional playing techniques-e.g., from sul tasto to sul ponticello or from a stable to a breathy woodwind sound-which emphasize the change in a sound, as opposed to its stability, or secondly the combination of noise and pitch components. 4. The most troublesome aspect of musical morphology is the unambiguous nature of motivic/figural/gestural material, the as it were traditional residue the pointillists earlier sought to eliminate. As morphology cannot be dispensed with, however-as the last twenty-five years have shown- it is necessary to adopt counter-strategies. For example: rapidity and thus ephemerality of shape, abundant variability (and therefore open boundaries of self-identity), polyphonic combinations (in particular with contrary elements), dissociative soundproduction in Hilbler's sense, which can ultimately lead to the self-destruction in the instrumental dimension. 5. We can apply the following rule to texture: the higher its density, the more identical and semantic its "contents" can be; the thinner and clearer a texture is, the more non-identical and pre-expressive these should be. 6. Form in deconstructive music is polyvalent, i.e., the result of simultaneous and divergent, even conflicting counter-strategies with their different effects upon structure, middleground and surface. As far as the fragment, that darling of high modernism, is concerned, the segment is a more favorable option, as it implies rather something absent, than something missing. 7. Musical space-in the case of spatially-conceived music-should not be treated holistically, as something permeable and homogenous, but rather as a splintered, shattered, lacunar. 8. We can best address the issue of musical sense by combining "meaningful" passages with neutral, as it were a-semantic, abstract, a-morphological application of material (in this context there is still much to be learned from Xenakis). The music's expression is modest, contemplative, doubt-filled, rather than embodying pathos and grand emotions that are at any rate no longer credible. The overall sound in deconstructive music is thus not one obsessed with its own manifestation, not gratuitous, mannerist or fetishized; the "language" of the composer is, like that of an essayist, hand-picked, select, centered around individual phenomena, rather than on terminology.
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Reflection. Critique. Utopia. Messianicity. Criteria of Modern Music -
CLAU S- STEFFEN MAHNKOPF
9. Performance practice in deconstructive music revolves around a productive unplayability that is nevertheless performed: around precisely this paradox that combines the expressive energy of performance with an intelligence in the search for solutions. It accordingly attacks the professionalized concert-system with its fatal perfectionist ideal, the ideal of the dazzling virtuoso, which has established itself even in New Music, especially in connection with complexist music (as with the Arditti Quartet). Deconstructive music, therefore, can be seen as the antithesis of contemporary concert-life. It is doubly reflexive, as it counteracts the very reflection it initiates; it is critical, especially towards itself; it is utopian, as identical thinking has a firm hold on all of us-whether the composer in thought, the performer doing his utmost, or the listener, belonging to a culture completely dominated by identity-oriented music. My opening question was: how far does musical deconstruction carry? This is difficult to answer alone for the reason that the phenomenon is still undergoing development. It is not a style, as post-war pointillism was, nor is it a technique, as dodecaphony was, and it is not dependent on a particular material, such as spectralism; finally, it would be foolish to equate complexism and deconstruction with each other, simply because of their similar ethical basis (it would be more fitting to view deconstruction as the self{!)-critique of complexism, at the exact point where it established itself as a style and an artistic movement [i.e., in the first half of the 199osD. The force of musical deconstruction is rather dependent on several conditions: i. It is the final step after all the achievements of the compositional approach indebted to the logic of identity (construction, structural thought, relationship to the material, "economical" technique, etc.). The upshot of this is that all the virtues of modernism at its peak-including the re-appropriation practiced by the Second Viennese School- must be mastered with excellence. Deconstruction is thus the absolute opposite of a "pensiero debole" (Vattimo); it is that which-against all expectations-acts as a "turning" (Kehre) toward this powerful mode of musical thinking-in order that it should seep downward. 2 . It assumes the fulfillment of the first three criteria of modern composing: utmost lucidity of all compositional actions (reflection), openness towards critique from all sides, and the posing of utopian problems. It expects ''material progress" from composers, i.e., recherche or ricerca, innovations in notation and performance situations, altered pragmatic contexts, a new rhetoric of self-presentation. 3. Musical deconstruction depends in particular on the poetic competence of the composer-poetic in a double sense, namely on the one hand that of poetry, individual language and individual materials, and on the other hand that of poiesis, the particular manner of production, the particular working method. In the light of these collectively crucial conditions, it seems plausible that musical deconstruction can never, in a totalizing manner, define a work or an
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reuvre. It is rather something that can succeed, can become reality (assuming this is attempted), but not at all points with equal intensity or success. It would therefore be misguided to expect a deconstructivist composer to take a deconstructive, much less an equally intensively deconstructive approach in every piece. One should take seriously the consideration that deconstruction is the opposite of reification, system, method: it is an experiment, the set-up for an experiment-even should historical learning-processes lead to determinate results. It would therefore be more appropriate to speak of deconstructive strategies, or deconstructive effects-and not a deconstructive style, perhaps not even a deconstructive composer or a deconstructive work. The question remains: how far can musical deconstruction bring us towards, help us to attain the messianic? One should bear in mind that deconstructive composition and the messianic dimension do not condition each other. Messianicity is primarily the expression of a work-intrinsic idea, and relates closely to what a composer's music really has to say. Certainly the idea of non-identity is precisely what messianicity intends: an opening towards something entirely other, an infiltration by an unknown dimension, the vision of another world. A work that-as is traditional-aims for identity risks falling short of the messianic, despite-and precisely through-in fact striving for it. Let us therefore open our minds to non-identical musical thinking! Translation: Wieland Hoban
I 48
Sebastian Claren
Construction and Conceptuality
..To some degree we're all in the devil's hand the one who escapes is the hero." Morton Feldman ..Polyphony sucks." Morton Feldman
1.
A central charge leveled at New Music time and again-and not only since 1950-relates to its supposedly intellectualized nature: there are frequent accusations of excessive structural and conceptual work combined with a neglect of immediate expression and direct comprehensibility. The serial music of the 1950s, whose composers liked to present themselves as rationalists drawing on an apparently scientific degree of argumentational exactitude, is at first glance the perfect target for such criticisms. Upon closer inspection, however, the idea of serialism seems in fact to have resulted-paradoxically-from striving for an excess of immediate expression; the purpose of the serial construction in this context was not so much that of enabling a complete rationalization of the musical material as of maintaining the highest possible level of the desired emotional tension on the musical surface at any point in the composition. In this sense, it would be more appropriate to speak of a precarious balance between construction and immediacy in serialism-a balance under the highest tension imaginable-than a particularly one-sided dominance of construction at the expense of immediate • expression. On the other hand, however, it can hardly be denied that the advent of "atonality" some 50 years beforehand had indeed robbed European art music of a previously unquestioned and fundamental immediacy of comprehension still present even in the most complex works of Beethoven or in the late Romantic works immediately preceding the modern era, which could accordingly be taken as a given by any one of these composers. Upon closer examination, however, this far-reaching change in the history of European art music seems to have stemmed less from a lack of expression than-on the contrary-from an increasingly uncontrollable need for expression which was supplied with its constructive counterpart-and thus also codified to an extent-some ten years later through Schonberg's invention of the twelve-note technique. In the light of the observations already made, it would seem logical to interpret the history of European art music in the 2oth century more as a 49
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fundamental emotionalization of the musical surface-where the constructive frame is added after the event-than as a tendency towards increasingly farreaching constructive efforts at the expense of its emotional immediacy. Conversely, however, one could in fact understand tonality as a form of constructive codification of pitch, and atonality correspondingly as the dissolution of this codification of the musical fabric, in the sense of a vehement emotionalization, whose surface was in turn constructively treated first by the twelve-note method, then through serialism. These considerations could lead us to conclude that the comprehensibility of New Music is not impaired by excesses of construction and over-conceptualization of the musical material, that-on the contrary-the almost exclusive striving for emotional immediacy, whose conceptual underpinning is essentially restricted to a constructive stabilization of the music's emotionalized surface, and occasions an emotional over-saturation leading-in the worst case-to a pretence at immediacy which in fact causes a standardization of musical expres· sion. Construction has always played a substantial part in European art music; at certain times, however, it was especially present in composers' awareness, while at other times it was relegated to the background. Nonetheless, all known compositional strategies incorporate constructive elements-both those within the conventional disciplines of music theory, that is essentially tonal counterpoint, functional harmony and formal theory, and in those only partially located within these areas, such as isorhythmy in the pre-tonal music of the 14th century, the parody in the 15th and 16th centuries, and in the post-tonal music of the 2oth century the aforementioned practices of twelve-note technique and serialism. What is conspicuous about this opposition is that the traditional areas of music theory are associated-not exclusively, but certainly very closely-with functional tonality, and relate to phenomena which can immediately be grasped and checked by the ear, whereas the compositional strategies developed in the Middle Ages, the Renaissance and the 2oth century are aurally appreciable only under certain conditions, and only in deliberately clear examples. As a rule, these strategies concern structural phenomena, and are incorporated in an order which is not immediately perceptible, and which-despite its unquestionable influence on the directly audible material-allows no conclusions with regard to its own nature. For this reason, non-tonal compositional strategies can sooner be grasped through the musical score than through the sounding material, whereas this distinction between sonic and textual appreciability is only rarely meaningful in the context of tonal compositional techniques. If, therefore, non-tonal compositional strategies have only an indirect effect on the sonic guise of a composition, and can therefore not be directly perceived as such-which simply means that these strategies, in contrast to those of tonal composition, do not speak directly to their audience-then the question inevi-
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tably arises: what function can they have at all, either for the composer or the audience? At first glance, twelve-note composition and serialism seem to have followed similar goals: for its inventor Schonberg, twelve-note composition was initially connected to his own treatment of neoclassicism in the 1920s, and thus constituted a clear turn-not only in its technical means, but also in terms of the resulting stylistic change within his compositional output-towards a more rationalized approach to musical shape in comparison to the preceding expressionist works. Serialism, on the other hand, presented itself in its early years as a movement towards an objectification of musical material which set itself militantly apart from other tendencies of the time. In both cases, there seems to have been a certain congruence between the structural demands of the respective technique itself, the motives for its introduction and its effects on musical shape. Upon closer inspection, however, it is obvious that Schonberg in particular was proud of the his twelve-note method's potential for producing different musical shapes, including tonal ones, from scratch, and that the early purveyors of serialism, such as Boulez and Stockhausen had very different, often even opposing motives for introducing this new compositional method into their work: while the young Stockhausen was closest to the ideal of an objectivist serialist-despite combining this from the outset with a strange, affectedly pious mysticism-Boulez continued his work with rhythmic modes derived from Messiaen even after adopting serialist techniques in his work, and integrated these in a very individually-crafted manifestation of the serialist system. Stockhausen indeed seems to have pursued for a long time an unimpaired realization of a musico-mathematical system drawing on as many scientific insights as possible; Boulez, on the other hand, despite taking a similar tone in his essays and lectures, seems essentially to have pursued a very stringent generation of large amounts of material which could then be subjected to his respective musical intentions without a great deal of systematic inhibitions. Having touched upon these matters, the two central motive-complexes for the use of non-tonal musical constructions have been mentioned: on the one hand the conviction, almost religious in its fervor, that the perfection striven for in musical works can only be achieved through a methodical unanimity that can be checked according to numerical systems; on the other hand, the more pragmatic desire to derive large amounts of material from an initially tightlyconstrained base. This latter option has the advantage of substantially improving compositional work-economy (the composer need not invent each note anew, but can instead rely on more or less automatic material processes once he has delimited his material), and also produces an economy of musical material that satisfies conventional notions of contextual formation, even where it is essentially a matter of general field-characteristics. This quest for a system free of contradictions is based on a faith in a form of
self-enclosed logic best circumscribed with such terms as symmetry, equilibrium and perfection, and which constitutes the epitome of a system that is largely divorced from its actual musical results. The search for an emphatically practical economy of material involves strategies that concern the working methods of the composer, and thus not only influence matters of work-economy and generation of material, but beyond these can also entail the construction-whether intentional or not-of situations internal to the work-process which do not recognizably show any simple fulfillment of their aims, or are even contradictory in themselves, and which can thus pose the necessary challenge of finding unforeseen solutions, as well as becoming a productive source of new musical ideas. A further aspect of non-tonal constructions is almost certainly the composer's need for reliable and justifiable methods. In a certain sense, this is perhaps a reaction to the feeling that "anything goes," which most likely arose with the first instances of atonality: for atonality did not, of course, constitute a mere overturning of rules which had long restricted composers' freedom, but also the loss of the foundation of compositional technique which had provided composers-whether progressive or conservative-a certain security in their choice of musical means. In other words: the demand for binding rules in the selection of compositional means and for choices which could be accounted for technically, which constituted one of the central criteria of quality in the 2oth century in particular, can only in part be attributed to the search for new categories of thought; it can be explained perhaps to an even greater extent by the composer's need for a safeguard, both against himself and his critics. There are two examples not usually mentioned in this context. The first is that of Cage's chance procedures; although he himself presented them in a different light, they certainly belong to this group of compositional methods in so far as they constitute a particularly shrewd method of pre-structuring unrelated forms of material according to the composer's intentions-which are inevitably present at this early stage of the compositional process-and then creating (fortuitous) relationships between them which are appreciable only during the procedure itself, or at the most in its documentary evidence, yet which nonetheless legitimate every individual (fortuitous) choice of details, both in the composer's awareness and in that of the (informed) audience. The compositional approach involving the spectrum of overtones-originally conceived in France, but meanwhile popular in all stylistic areas-can be attributed to a general interest in this natural phenomenon, as well as a patient researching of its foundations; at the same time, however, it satisfies the basic need of composers to have pitches at their disposal which do not result from a symmetrical division of the octave, but which can nonetheless be justified, and which are even legitimated by natural observation, and are aurally verifiable in their details. The fact that a use of the spectrum as a pitch reservoir open to any registral disposition-as is the case in many compositions-has only very little
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to do with the original phenomenon, and can in fact only really be viewed as a strategy for legitimating one's choice of pitches, is often overlooked. Ultimately, all these attempts to develop constructive procedures for nontonal complexes of material constitute efforts to impose a scalar order on a material which is increasingly difficult to graduate. And indeed: at a certain level of structural complexity, a certain subtlety of material disposition and a certain polyvalence in the formal design, it can seem impossible to conceive and develop a composition without a system of categories devised especially for this purpose. Yet, even if we should reach the conclusion that a constructive predisposition is inescapable at the present state of musical material, we should not forget that these methods are essentially strategies that ease the composer's conscience and structure his working methods; and that these strategies as such have only an indirect effect on the resulting musical shape, and have little or no meaning-leaving aside the artistic propaganda associated with new compositional methods in the 2oth century in particular-for the audience. An accomplished pre-compositional construction in itself proves nothing other than the respective composer's ability to categorize his/her music-what the audience hears is an entirely different matter. All the techniques mentioned above amount to constructions and workprocesses which structure the respective composition and exert a considerable influence on the disposition of material in a given piece, but which-in contrast to complex tonal counterpoint or unpredictable harmonic developments-can be recognized only in part or not at all by listeners, even those familiar with the respective compositional technique. One should not exclude the possibility that the constructive efforts undertaken behind the scenes, as it were, of many atonal compositions feed off an apparently insatiable yearning for a self-enclosed space comparable to tonality, and seek to replace it through a closed system guaranteeing homogeneity and consistency within the boundaries drawn up. Thus, while the composer has long since been satisfied by the systematic concord among the foundations of his work, the listener is still offered a repertoire of gestures and sounds clearly originating from expressionism, which has above all been extended and refined, but not fundamentally developed or reinterpreted in any sense. At this point, one might ask whether the obvious contradiction between compositional techniques that presuppose a systematic ordering of material, and largely predetermine the sequence of this material in time, and forms of material which convey emotional immediacy and spontaneity of musical discourse as their essential message can feasibly be maintained in the long term. By way of summary, it could be said that the accusation of "over-intellectualization" leveled at New Music is-if at all-only half-justified: if an excess of construction and conceptuality is in evidence, then only in the predisposition of formal structures and distributions of material, which are indeed determined largely by constructive strategies; but certainly not in terms of the s3
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music's sonic character, which provokes this sort of charge with reliable consistency. For in fact, composers of New Music generally take great pains even to conceal their constructive efforts, and to prevent any traces of their compositional work from reaching the musical surface. There is something tragic in the fact that precisely such attempts to suggest a musical discourse which presents itself with immediacy and spontaneity should be condemned equally harshly with the accusation of "over-intellectualization"; it is indeed not inconceivable that this might be a vicious circle in which each side confirms the other. Concerning this charge of "over-intellectualization," it should therefore be pointed out to the audience that a new composition's apparent unfamiliarity or incomprehensibility does not necessarily justify the conclusion that it is constructed-one could just as easily imagine it as being arbitrary and devoid of any rules (although the manner in which composers present themselves in program notes or in conversation frequently encourages one's impression of "constructedness"). It is interesting to note how the works of a number of composers which we shall examine towards the end of our investigations suggest that precisely a more evident form of musical construction-though a necessarily very different one-could in fact silence the accusation of "constructedness"; this would show that the charge of "constructedness" has paradoxically become so common, indeed inevitable, only through the concealment of the musical construction.
2.
I would like to summarize and describe one particular form of procedure and artistic expression, one which has played a more important part in the history of music and art in the 2oth century than ever before, with the term "conceptuality." I apply this term to all works of art either produced with the aid of a conceptual surplus or containing one in the final result. This includes, first of all, the various methods of musical construction in the 2oth century, in so far as comprehensive theoretical reflections form a part of their basis-here one can find a wide range of overlaps between construction and conceptuality; secondly, compositional procedures which implicitly or explicitly question the foundations of contemporary composition-and thus their own foundations -through music-immanent or extra-musical strategies; thirdly, sound- or performance-oriented works whose formulation is essentially restricted to the conceptual level. In order to show clearly the range and variety of this thematic complex I would like first of all to present an example that is particularly complicated in its relationship between conceptual thought and artistic reality: although hardly anyone would contest the artistic significance of the work of Joseph Beuys, there are comparatively few who would share his theoretical views. On closer
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inspection, however, it becomes obvious that Beuys' artistic work would not only have been impossible without his theoretical work, but in fact that it constitutes in many cases a direct, often even literal realization of his theoretical ideas, both in their fundamental conception and in their details. We are therefore dealing with a form of theory which many consider dubious, yet whose direct application produces artistic results which are not only of central importance for the history of art in the 2oth century, but which convince and affect an audience that tends towards a rejection of the ideas to which they lend artistic expression. A similar, though less complicated example can be seen in Stockhausen's Gruppen, whose theoretical basis is generally considered scientifically untenable, though artistically productive, while the composition itself is viewed as one of the most important orchestral works of the 2oth century. Whereas Gruppen shows the case of a theory which is unsound as the scientific construction Stockhausen presents it as, yet which remains quite plausible as a musical translation of scientific observations, the situation with Beuys is considerably more difficult, as the quality of his work lies precisely in its representation of the underlying theory as a dynamic system through its assignment of primary materials. The palpability of a mode of thinking whose tenets are not shared by the audience in most cases is precisely what draws in the observer about Beuys' work. The conclusion we must draw from this can only be the following: the fact that it is at all possible to deploy the artistic material in such a manner as to illustrate a theory not only in its result, but as a dynamic process, should be viewed as the achievement of this body of work that makes it so convincing to its audience. Precisely this is not the case in Gruppen, where the artistic result-as a translation of the predetermined theoretical conception-is dynamic in its material, but static in its construction. The particular relationship between theory and artistic result can be seen even more clearly in Beuys' drawings: already in his early drawings, he gave up the struggle for a state of perfection in favor of the result of a work-process. It is often difficult for the viewer to determine whether a particular piece of paper is merely a sketch in which Beuys has undertaken a conceptual clarification of a general theory or of individual artistic projects for himself, or rather a drawing which was conceived as such from the outset. The fact that a distinction of this kind cannot be made, as a rule, confirms our suspicion that the actual artistic theme of Beuys' work is the dynamic of the thought whose possible movements are not necessarily documented in any given material, but rather reconstructed and depicted (although the earlier drawings are probably sketches which were only declared as autonomous artistic products after the event, and as such went on to determine the style of the later drawings). In fact, one can note a similarly fascinating range of interpretations with non-artistic sketches and drawings, especially if one does not know to what they refer. This can only mean that signs which have a certain meaning for their 55
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creator are made in a fundamentally different fashion to those that signify nothing outside of themselves. One possible explanation for this could be that signs which are employed in order to clarify something to oneself or to others are not produced purely according to aesthetic criteria, but certainly also according to their usefulness in terms of the representation of the intended thought; this is why their respective allocation in the given space is fundamentally different depending on which aspects are considered most important. In the context of artistic production, the later works of Cy Twombly are, in my view, a perfect example of artistic work whose approach to drawing suggests a conceptual engagement in progress, yet whose impetus is clearly aesthetically oriented, and thus ultimately seems decorative. Here, the sketch-like quality has become a stylistic element. A particularly radical stance-in terms of the relationship between conceptuality and construction -is taken in numerous works that came about in the 1960s in connection with Fluxus and related art forms. Not only is the constructive development of a conceptual idea here dispensed with in many cases, but the concept itself is also melted down to a residue which could hardly be reduced any further, such as in George Brecht's Word Event from 196t, whose notation consists of the single word "Exit." What carrying out this event might mean, whether it could, for example, consist in the mounting of an exit sign, in exiting the stage, in leading the audience out of the concert-hall, or simply reading out the word "Exit," or indeed the question as to whether the Word Event is at all intended for performance, is left open. In this sense, LaMonte Young's Compositions 2960 are considerably more precisely determined, in so far as they consist for the most part of descriptions of the respective piece that are clearly intended as instructions, such as "Build a fire in front of the audience" (#2) or "Draw a straight line and follow it" (#to). On the other hand, a description such as "This piece is little whirlpools in the middle of the ocean" (#15) naturally makes a point of reducing the notion of describing a performance ad absurdum. Clearly, the careful construction of a through-composed form is discarded in favor of a simple conceptual allocation in these works. Nonetheless, the question arises as to whether these are examples of pure conceptuality whose execution must be realized by players in a performance, or whether the concepts themselves should not already be viewed as exemplary realizations of a superordinate, yet unwritten theory of Fluxus, which would then constitute the actual conceptual part of the work. An even clearer concentration on the conceptual as such was advanced, also in the 1960s, by the "Conceptual Art" movement. More than in Ftuxus, where the intentionally polyvalent or absurd works, despite classifying themselves as anti-art, always retained the aura of a bohemian-artistic activity, such artists as Joseph Kosuth systematically worked towards "eliminating the aura of traditional art." In order to clarify that his work rests on concepts, not their
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realization, Kosuth went so far, at a certain point in his artistic development, as to stop exhibiting his works in museums, but rather as advertisements in newspapers, in order to "emphasize the immateriality of the work and to avoid any possible connections to painting." In order to stress that "the idea of the concept is the most important aspect of the work," Sol Lewitt produced works such as his murals as brief sets of instructions which were subsequently carried out by assistants: "the idea becomes a machine for producing art," according to Lewitt. We are therefore dealing with an art form which directs a substantial part of its efforts at emphasizing the significance of the concept at the expense of its realization's significance-in many cases, this leads to an industrial perfection in the production of the objects through assistants which stands in clear contrast to the traditional, hand-made art object. The underlying material of this art mostly takes the form of words, as a medium of ideas whose verbal expression is often confronted with the actual objects to which they refer. For this reason, the appearance of "Conceptual Art" frequently concentrates on as unusual and conspicuous a presentation as possible of lingual formations. Alingual materials are limited, as a rule, to alterations of existing (everyday) contexts and documentations of actions or events (such documentations can, of course, also incorporate language). This is where one could see a weakness of "Conceptual Art": its transmission via the senses is largely carried out through the word as the original carrier of conceptual information, or through alterations or montages of familiar material which is recognizable as such, and thus isolates the specific form of manipulation as the concept. A typical example of manipulation through language is a work of the British artist group "Art & Language," which referred to "Conceptual Art" as "modernity's nervous breakdown" during the 1960s: in 198o, the group exhibited a sequence of imitations of Jackson Pollock's "drip paintings" under the overall title A Portrait of V.I. Lenin with Cap, in the Style ofJackson Pollock, and in doing so firstly set up an unexpected encounter between two icons of the 2oth century, and secondly effected an ironic twist to one of the central achievements of the 2oth century, namely the non-representationality of abstract art. Admittedly, however, the verbal interference of the title (together with the serial duplication of Pollock's idiom) is here once again the only carrier of significance that turns a simple imitation of Jackson Pollock into a conceptual work. In the case of Sol Lewitt's murals, what makes the concept recognizable is not only the fact that the works are produced by assistants according to his instructions, but also that their underlying serial principle is clear to the observer even with no knowledge of the particular instructions; in fact, the tension between the apparent confusion in many drawings and the gradual recognition of the serial principles that led to these complex allocations of material contributes quite substantially to the peculiar beauty of these works. There is a clear parallel to the early works of Minimal Music here, in which
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simple and highly transparent, mechanically-structured formal sequences produced a unique sort of acoustic fascination which in music, admittedly, is reinforced in a conventional manner by the additional physical-motoric effect of the serial repetitions.
3. Another development of the 1960s was Alvin Lucier's creation of his own form of conceptual works, which are reminiscent-in their construction and the course they take-of scientific experiments. The first of these pieces, Music for Solo Performer (1965), will act here as exemplary of all Lucier's later works: the work is centered around alpha-waves, which the brain produces in a state of complete calm. These are detected by EEG-electrodes attached to the performer's scalp, and connected to any number of loudspeakers via an amplifier, mixing desk and further amplifiers; these loudspeakers are connected to percussion instruments of the performer's choice which are made to sound by the frequencies of the alpha-waves, which lie between 8 and 12 Hz. The idea of this set-up is as follows: in contrast to every other sound-related performance, acoustic activity can only be triggered through absolute inactivity on the performer's part, who is constrained not only to avoid all bodily movement, but also to suppress any visual thoughts, in order for alpha-waves to actually be produced. The audience thus sees only a performer sitting still on stage, eyes closed, and occasionally hears quiet vibrations from the various percussion instruments, which indicate a successful elimination of external and internal ideas on the part of the performer. The irony of the piece lies not least in the fact that the performer must achieve a disablement of any active volition in order for a successful performance to occur-the emergence and disappearance of the percussion sounds is directly dependent on the cerebral activity of the performer, but can only be influenced indirectly by the performer through an avoidance of every conscious influence. Lucier here succeeds in developing a static, easily comprehensible concept that draws its tension purely from the paradoxical connection between activity and inactivity, a tension that can sustain a performance even for an extended duration. A conceptual work that grew directly out of the compositional constructions of its composer, on the one hand, yet which became an archetype for the idea of later Fluxus-events, on the other hand, is Cage's 4'33'' (1952), in which no sounds as such are to be consciously produced. In formal terms, Cage's approach here was no different to that in his other pieces at that time, to the extent that the durations of individual temporal sections were determined through chance procedures, and these then combined as three movements to form a total duration of 4'33''. The piece actually consists, therefore, of several successive sections that were brought together as three movements; in the premiere,
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David Tudor marked the beginning and end of each one by opening or closing the piano lid. This approach should be explained not only with reference to Cage's customary compositional technique at the time, but also to Robert Rauschenberg's White Paintings, which formed the immediate model for 4'33'': these are panels, each consisting of several canvases which had been painted white. Whereas the borders between individual canvases can (and should) be recognized without difficulty, empty passages of time in music can only be set apart from one another through gestures entering from without as markers. If one is familiar with the background to 4'33'', one would have to understand it as a particularly unusual, but consistent combination of construction and concept, in so far as the manner in which the duration was determined can certainly be seen as a constructive approach, while the decision to restrict the sonic material to silence, and thus to the sounds of the performance environment, is clearly of a conceptual nature. One might add that a white canvas by necessity remains closer to the idea of a clearly defined object than Cage's empty sections of time; in this respect, Cage's work goes a great deal further than those of Rauschenberg. We have now dealt with examples both of construction and of conceptuality in the 2oth century. The substantial advantage of construction is surely the possibility for a complex shaping of material in time which can be treated flexibly and turned in new directions at any point in its course. Its primary disadvantage lies (at least in the examples mentioned thus far) in a separation of construction and musical surface that for the most part conceals the actual work of the composer, and gives the expressive surface the appearance of gesticulations whose inner sense can only be grasped in terms of its form or dramaturgy, but not its content: everything dances to the composer's tune, but his decisions cannot be perceived, as he plays his cards very close to his chest. The advantages of the conceptual works we have examined so far are obvious in this context: they focus, as a rule, on a single, clearly defined idea that is articulated and-as far as possible-made appreciable; even a Fluxus event, I would argue, is clearly defined in its rejection of sense as such. To this extent, conceptual art-as closed as some individual works might be-is fundamentally a communicative art form. The primary disadvantages of conceptual art forms come to light equally clearly in this opposition: in most cases, the concept remains tied to its verbal expression, and can only be communicated through a confrontation between terminological definition and sensory evidence; considered negatively, this could be viewed as a retreat into selfinterpretation. A further disadvantage consists in the fact that with performative conceptual works, the temporal unfolding of the whole is less richly shaped than with constructively composed works, just as the internal structure of the material in non-conceptual works is not treated in a particularly differentiated manner. This results from the fact that conceptual artists frequently leave their s9
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material largely untouched, and only present their actual statement through a small manipulation or a deciding combination of ideas; in other words, conceptual artists tend towards examining their material as if from without, and therefore presenting it as such.
Let us now return to New Music. At this point, the question arises as to the possible ways of combining construction and conceptuality in such a manner that on the one hand, their advantages-as far as desired in a particular work-can be brought into agreement, and on the other hand, that their disadvantages-as far as they disturb the respective work-can be avoided; this would at least offer the possibility for a work to undergo a rich shaping process in the realm of musical construction, yet also for the work thus realized to retain its conceptual effect. In the following, I shall present a number of examples as suggestions of possible solutions. In this context, it would seem that a closer relationship or congruence between the construction and the sound-surface is a necessary pre-condition for bringing construction and conceptuality into contact with one another: in order to communicate with the material available to the various art forms, it is first of all necessary to have as "flat" a hierarchy as possible in the constitution of the material itself-a hierarchy that does not attempt, where everything is mediated, to suggest immediacy to the listener. A comparatively simple strategy for reducing the gulf between construction and surface is a radical reduction of the material, a strategy which played a central part in all areas of art in the second half of the 2oth century. A particularly convincing example of this is to be found in Scelsi's "one-note pieces," in each of which-as is commonly known-a single note is taken as the point of reference throughout an entire piece, and kept in motion through chromatic, microtonal and octave-deviations, as well as through complex rhythmic, timbral and dynamic structures. As in this context deviations are also perceived as reinforcing the point of reference, each piece essentially consists of a single sound that is by turns expanded and reduced through seemingly continuous rearrangements. Through this reduction of a single parameter (and through the adaptation of all other parameters to this reduction as far as they do not contradict it: one could, for example, easily destroy the impression of a sustained point of reference through a conscious selection of fragmentary excerpts from this continuum), Scelsi succeeds in shaping all other aspects in a tangible and appreciable manner, as they are perceived as variants which are subordinate to the chosen pitch spectrum. While- this approach is particularly obvious in Scelsi's case, there are similar, if more ambiguous strategies which lead to comparable results: one
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might mention the late works of Nono, who applies the method of reduction and variation to a greater number of different parameters (dynamics: very loud-very quiet; pitch: limited number of chords, microtonality as a way of producing variants of these chords; register: varying, dependent upon the respective work and its instrumentation, but in each case clearly defined; gesturality: limited number of abrupt and disconnectedly juxtaposed gestures, spatial distribution as an additional possibility for producing variants of this gestural repertoire), yet without any single parameter being restricted in a similar manner to pitch in Scelsi's works. Nonetheless, Nono ultimately arrives at a similar result in so far as he takes into account that a differentiation among microtones or of spatial distribution can only be achieved by maintaining essentially unchanging pitch-centers and gestures if the internal refinements are at all to be recognized as such, and thus come to the fore. With reference to these and similar reductionist strategies, it can be noted that the stability which they by necessity produce through the reduced mobility of single or several parameters corresponds, to a certain extent, to a tonal stability, and in this sense indeed replaces it; for, just as constructive procedures in tonality become appreciable and meaningful in relation to a background of vertical and horizontal continuity, reductionist strategies in atonality create a stabilized background upon which constructive decisions can be recognized as such, so that a certain congruence between construction and musical surface can be achieved. Naturally, a substantial difference lies in the fact that in tonality, the background is a collectively predetermined one, whereas in atonality composers can choose freely between different fundamental possibilities for the reduction or stabilization of the musical surroundings, as well as their refinements, though here too the repertoire of useful parameters is not, of course, unlimited. A strategy which seems at first glance diametrically opposed to this, one that could simplistically be termed "maximalist," is pursued by Xenakis. In his well-known critique of serialism and of "linear thinking," he analyzed the contradiction between forms of material which completely eliminate linear connections on the one hand, and approaches to construction founded upon linear sequence as the basis of compositional work on the other hand, as the fundamental weakness of serialist theory. If the sounding result of this theory is "surface or mass," Xenakis argued, it is time for procedures of compositional organization to concentrate on precisely these phenomena, rather than clinging further to a "polyphonic linear system." In practice, this means that Xenakis subsequently developed strategies which enabled him-with the help of stochastics and other mathematical theories-to control mass phenomena in such a way that he was able to define the components of these accumulations of material, their combinatorial possibilities, and even individual stages in their development in advance, and to calculate the intermediate passages under certain freely chosen conditions according to the rules of probability. 61
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Xenakis thus succeeds in fulfilling precisely what he had demanded with reference to serialism: the development of a compositional technique capable of controlling those phenomena perceived as "surface or mass" even in their most complex manifestations, and of completely eliminating all implications stemming from a historically-influenced ..linear thinking." In other words, he achieves clear and exclusive control over surface phenomena, and an almost perfect congruence between construction and surface. This does not mean, of course, that the frequently very complex mathematical constructions underlying such works become directly perceptible; but all their effects and results come to light clearly and openly-what the composer calculates or decides is here exactly what the audience hears: there is no loss or displacement of meaning between construction and perception. A quite different approach is taken by Nicolaus A. Huber and Mathias Spahlinger, who construct situations in which the musical material is examined in terms of its conventional and archetypal implications. The best-known technical strategy for this is Huber's rhythmic-metric modulation, where simple rhythmic constellations are partly enriched, partly also dissected in their inner structure through shrewd forms of discrete and continuous variation. A sub· stantial part of Huber's and Spahlinger's compositional techniques lies in the displaying of a method in its undisguised application, which is always also of a demonstrative character, but is molded precisely into the overall context in terms of its inner musical tension. Through this demonstrative element, certain passages even resemble the experiment-like presentations of Alvin Lucier, though one should point out the difference that they-as opposed to Lucier's works-are firstly through-composed in detail, and are secondly placed, as a whole, within a temporally structured formal sequence. With both composers, the fundamental characteristics of this approach can be recognized as a clear preference for repetitive structures which isolate figures and enable them to be observed individually, a reduction corresponding to this repetitiveness that reveals the underlying structures of the material, and a cut-like juxtaposition of sequences following on from one another, which in turn separates off the individual passages, allowing them to be observed in themselves. In this working method, construction and material can no longer be separated, but should rather be understood as forming an indissoluble unity: construction as a method can be observed at any time in the changes undergone by the material. This direct treatment of the material introduces a new quality of musical expression, which here is not applied to the material from without, but rather developed from within it. It is precisely the unabashed exhibition of the composer's own method that leads to a new form of expression whose immediate palpability cannot in any way be compared to what makes a fugue-i.e., a tonal construction-appreciable, for example, as this form of construction depends less on the author's expertise in applying existing rules than on his interest in the processes he himself initiates, and in j 62
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their results. In this respect, a quasi-investigative strategy of such a kind is clearly a conceptual invention which redefines the relationship between the composer and the work. Whereas Huber and Spahlinger concentrate the listener's interest through an almost violent de-poeticization of their material and through the tension that ensues between musical pre-definition and experimental application, Feldman always clung to the idea of establishing a personal musical atmosphere, which in his case is characterized by sonic events which emerge quietly and progress slowly. Nonetheless, the long pattern-compositions which Feldman produced in the first half of the 1980s constitute further examples of an equivalence between constructive strategy and musical surface. The variations and distortions of single short motives in long chains of permutations, the transformation of these chains into new motivic types, and the abrupt changes between these various types would lead to an absolute appreciability of every single one of the composer's choices at any point in the composition if the listener's memory were capable of unfailingly recalling every single previously-heard variant. As the similarity between motivic variants and the great temporal distance between mutually dependent decisions almost always prevents a precise recollection, however, a field of tension ensues between the absolute clarity and comprehensibility at the local level and the blurring of these clearly perceived details in the overall context. Feldman's decision to write pieces lasting several hours, through-composed in every detail, can first of all be understood as a purely conceptual one, through which he makes a conscious departure from the formal and material preconceptions of the conventional classical concert, which even the field of New Music had in fact done little-if anything-to alter. The artistic success of this decision, however, lies in the fact that Feldman achieved an almost perfect congruence between this conceptual choice and his compositional/ constructive procedures: the pattern-variants require the space and formal distance firstly in order to be fully played out, but secondly also to make the transition from the focus of immediate perception to the imprecision of the memory as it is written over, so to speak, by the subsequent variants; and the temporal frame requires forms of material which allow meaningful developments within these dimensions if it is to be more than a mere statement, but rather a genuine counterposition to the conventional concert form. Beyond this, Feldman's conceptual decision gains further meaning through the fact that the distention of his long compositions does not negate the temporal course taken by conventional dispositions of material in the banal sense of stretching static material to arbitrary lengths, but rather in the sense that the manipulations of the listener's memory carried out meticulously in the sequence of pattern-variants ultimately allow the various intermediate stages of the material to converge upon a single point, and thus achieve a higher form of timelessness which could only be reached in this temporally distended form.
Feldman's pattern compositions can be termed the most successful form so far of a connection between construction and conceptuality in music, in so far as the composer's constructive strategies are immediately appreciable, his conceptual decision becomes unmistakably clear, and their conjunction informs every detail of each individual work.
5. With reference to New Music's potential for future development in the tensionfield between construction and conceptuality, it can first of all be observed that pure forms of constructivity which cling to the separation of construction and surface cling to an conception of New Music defined in the 1950s (at the latest): one which allows little room for expansion, as the approach to material and structure is always located within fixed boundaries. It is possible, of course, to integrate new sound-sources, forms of indeterminate notation or visual and scenic elements, but this does nothing to change the fundamental division of the composer's constructive work and the result perceived by the listener; and it is this division that prevents any direct appreciation from the outset. At the level of pure conceptuality, it is first of all astounding that a new generation of conceptually-oriented artists comparable to that represented in the visual arts during the 1990s by such names as Damien Hirst or Rachel Whiteread, to name only the most well-known, never appeared in New Music in such a clear manner. One could mention Peter Ablinger or Benedict Mason as examples of composers who engaged seriously and intensively with conceptual issues, and thus achieved new and independent results. To speak of a new conceptual movement or a fundamentally new perspective or form of representation on the basis of these few examples, however, would-unlike in the visual arts-be an obvious exaggeration. What undoubtedly did come to greater prominence during the same space of time is the phenomenon known as Klangkunst (sonic art); meanwhile, however, it seems that this art form, which pursues a conceptually-oriented approach, is placed more in the category of the visual arts and received accordingly by the public, and that works which deal with sound in a less conceptual manner within the wide field between composition, installatio.n and performance are confronted with the same problems with reference to construction and conceptuality as textually-notated compositions, as the relationship between construction and musical surface does not change significantly if a serialist construction, for example, is replaced with an algorithm or a loop, or if in place of instrumental sounds, for example, electronic sounds or samples are used. In other words, it is highly probable that "sound," lacking the relation to reality and referential character of language or images-assuming the sounds in question are not recognizable recordings of real situations (which tend to be
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reckoned to the visual arts)- necessitates an artistic decision in the tensionfield between constructive and conceptual treatment. As far as the compositional side is concerned, a combination of construction and conceptuality seems by far the most promising option for new developments. The problems of purely constructive strategies lie in their self-contained nature, their lack of appreciability and the impossibility of developing other than at the sonic surface. The problems of purely conceptual strategies lie above all in the difficulty of finding a convincing motive for their development within time: a conceptual statement always has a strong tendency towards timelessness. As soon as the idea of a conceptual work is grasped, the work itself is understood. It is therefore no coincidence that conceptuality in the visual arts, where the duration of perception is determined by the viewer, has been immeasurably more successful than in music. Even if Feldman's late works have here been referred to as the most successful example of a connection between construction and conceptuality, I would consider it naive to believe in the possibility of now continuing by the same or similar means; these works rather seem to constitute a finished work-complex which proves that it is possible to develop a way of combining construction and conceptuality that is convincing in every respect, yet whose perfection and consistency barely allow room for further development. This may be a possible reason for Feldman's abandoning a number of the developments of his pattern-pieces in the late works in favor of pursuing other strategies. The conjunction of construction and conceptuality in a form that has been suggested, but most certainly not exhausted by the examples offered here, can help to solve a number of fundamental problems. A necessary step in my view would involve bringing construction and musical surface into harmony; the aforementioned offer exemplary demonstrations of the great variety of ways in which this can occur. What is common to all these solutions is that they view music not as a polyphonic web of individual gestures, which, as shown by Xenakis, dissolves in a field of statistical values within a non-tonal idiom in any case, but more realistically reduce it to what is actually audible, namely the musical surface. This does not yet constitute a conceptual statement, but at least a pre-condition for conceptual work, as polyphony-as pure detailwork-excludes conceptuality, unless it is parodied, so to speak, as a monolithic complex and subjected to irony ("paraded"), rather than being taken seriously as a web of individual gestures. A first step would therefore be a unification of construction and musical surface, which would inevitably lead to a new comprehensibility or palpability, as then only what can be perceived would need to be understood. It would nonetheless be important to examine-as a second step-the possibility of elevating music from a stage at which construction and surface coincide-i.e., at which music is at one with itself and as such can also be fully perceived-to a stage at which music achieves a form of conceptual articulacy 6s
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beyond such a purely musical state of being, an articulacy which arises not through language or depiction, but rather by purely musical means. If expression at the polyphonic level is symbolic, in the sense that gestures indeed represent movements, and that forms of material are equated with forms of expression, and if it gains a metaphorical character at the level of the congruence between construction and surface, in so far as the movements and events are directly appreciable, but initially represent nothing besides themselves, then a conceptual level building on this coincidence of construction and surface should ideally be capable of a clear statement which requires no words or images for its transportation, but rather speaks clearly for itself. In other words, I do not believe that New Music can any longer content itself with working at problems that have remained more or less the same for the last 50 years; neither do I believe, however, that it will suffice to supply New Music with additional lingual and graphic material in order to elevate it to a new level. In the long term, the only possibility will be for composers to reflect funda· mentally upon what it is that music can be and represent in their eyes, and to rethink all parameters of the musical material, above all those which are normally taken as given and remain unquestioned. I do not believe that this can take the form of a collective upheaval, but rather that each individual composer must draw his/her own conclusions from this (self-)examination, which may then lead to modifications of the conventional concert form. This is not to suggest that the classical concert situation has definitely reached its end, and should therefore be abolished at all costs; I do believe, however, that it will prove very difficult in the long term to maintain an interest in New Music if its conventional dictates are not questioned in a clearly palpable fashion. In this context, it will presumably be more effective to change the form and content of the pieces themselves and to develop, where necessary, a new concert form on this basis, rather than tinkering directly with the old one; but even a simple change in the mode of presentation could, if integrated completely and convincingly into a work's conception, and not simply attached as a frequently trivial supplement to a conventional piece, help to reach a new level of conceptual work. Even in cases where the conventional concert situation is essentially left unchanged, it should be felt that the composer has consciously engaged with the deficiencies (or also the unquestionable advantages) of this form of present· ation-subtlety should not be underestimated in this context as an enduringly effective expression of a critical stance. To refer one last time to Feldman: although the conventional concert form is not in any way altered in his work, the mere fact that his pattern-pieces are such very long through-composed works not simply extended in their structure, but clearly conceived in relation to their total dur~tion, renders them the most effective undermining of the concert form I have so far encountered. Translation: Wieland Hoban
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B. Material an Form
Johannes Menke
Thoughts on Harmony 2 Today
For some time, it was no longer taken for granted that harmony was an issue of debate. For some, the term-as an antiquated category-was no longer appropriate for the description of pitch treatment in New Music; for others, the use of recognizable pitches has in itself become obsolete. Each position thus finds its own way to avoid the problem. Pitch, rhythm, and form are those parameters with the most historical ..baggage"; it is too easy to simply discard the harmonic aspect or fundamentally compose only with noises and ..noise-rhythms" (in Stockhausen's words, referring to the complex irrationals of Klavierstiick I). Since the 198os one can observe in Germany an increasing interest in harmony; suffice it to mention as an exemplification the re-orientation in Lachenmann's reuvre at the start of that decade (with Harmonica). This new interest is inseparable from the debate concerning post-modernism, whose true core was, among other things, a diagnosis of some of modernity's crises, thus also opening the issue of harmony to discussion. Many of the older generation's representatives simply denied this crisis; this could not prevent the crisis, however, from leaving its traces in their works. Essentially three reactions to the harmonic crisis can be counted: the project of a ..second modernity," the continuation of post-modernism or simply indifference towards the problem-also a theoretical one-of harmony. It is my aim-without favoring a particular direction-to attempt an assessment of the situation, as well as a definition of those questions directly facing us. It is not my concern to formulate a utopian vision that should be realized, but rather to hone our sensitivity towards something as yet in development.
Harmony and Harmonic Language 2 The general understanding of harmony has undergone fundamental changes since the dissolution of classical-romantic tonality. Is it then still appropriate to speak of harmony? In an operative sense, certainly: harmony as the organization of simultaneously-sounding pitches, as the vertical aspect of pitch
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Translator's note: in German the two terms for harmony, Harmonik and Harmonie, have different characters. While Harmonik refers to little more than the inevitable vertical dimension and general pitch-treatment (thus being the more appropriate term in the context of New Music), Harmonie implies the traditional notion of a harmonic framework with unificatory, reconciliatory aims. As the English word is not specifically connected to one of these implications. it is not possible to find a fixed equivalent for each of the German words. The original term in the title is Harmonik.
2
Translator's note: see footnote t. Original title: Harmonie und Harmonik.
composition. The notion of verticality should not be too restricted, however, as the disruption of traditional textural structures has also caused a change in harmonic perception: not only simultaneous sounds, but also pitch-fields now form a part of harmonic perception. Listening is not only vertical, but also diagonal, and the boundaries between the diagonal and the horizontal are-especially at high speeds-fluid. Harmony is thus not simply a matter of chords and their sequence; it rather encompasses all interactions between pitches. Harmonia is, in antique mythology, the daughter of Aries and Aphrodite, and thus the product of two forces predominantly thought of as opposed: love and war, attraction and combat, affirmation and destruction; Venus and Mars, whose combination of forces surely no one captured more strikingly than Peter Paul Rubens. Harmony can, in this sense, be viewed not as a state of pure concord or union-in musical terms, pure consonance; tension is both contained and negated within it. The root constellation in ancient Greek is thus rich in meanings: Qpµ~m = to join, Ctpµ~m • bond, contract, proportion, evenness, agreement. It is not my aim to show the etymological derivation of the term and define it accordingly; casting a glance in this direction shows, however, that the notion of harmony is just that: not a fixed interpretation, but rather a creative concept open to a variety of meanings. Perhaps the most fundamental change in the definition of harmony came about through the emancipation of dissonance. It was not so much the point that dissonances were now used, rather that the qualitative difference between consonance and dissonance was abandoned in favor of a stepwise gradation that had nothing to do with any para-democratic Egalite-it was no less than the rupturing of a dualism established for centuries. It was only consistent that within a short time a further restriction was removed: the 12 equal-tempered semi-tones, now left behind as the orphaned framework of the old tonal system. The dualism and exclusivity of the previous system were recognized as such and, if desired, annulled. Alongside similar efforts from Alois Haba, it was above all Ivan Vishnegradsky who, in the 1920s, achieved the development of a theoretical model that had internalized and consistently elaborated upon this experience. It should be emphasized that his approach was far more radical than that of Schonberg, who nonetheless recognized the relativity of the 12-tone system. A central part of Vishnegradsky's musical thinking3 was the notion of Pansonorite, signifying a virtual space with an infinite number of pitches not hierarchically structured, but rather available in every possible combination. How unimaginable the conception of such a space is: infinite combinations of infinite pitches! Our aural
3
See Barbara Barthelmes, Raum und Klang. Das musikalische und theoretische Schaffen von Ivan Wyschnegradsky (Hofheim: Wolke, 1995).
Thoughts on Harmony Today -
JOHANNES MENKE
capacity may not be infinite, but the "anorganic compositional level" 4 containing these infinite pitches is. Herein lies the novelty of Vishnegradsky's thinking: the conception of infinity, and thus chaos, through the destruction of our tonal system's protective shield. At the same time, he also exposed it as a preformation of the material that-outside of historical tonality-suddenly seemed a meaningless and thus bad convention. At this point, a critique of the term "atonality" is necessary; in good modernist tradition, this is taken as the negation of conventional harmonic syntax. Initially this model only functions, strictly speaking, if one takes familiar pitch material-i.e., 12-note equal temperament-as a basis. For micro-intervallic chords are not given in "traditional" music, and whoever listens to microintervallic music knows that its differentiations often produce sounds which can hardly be classified in such crude terms as "tonal" or "atonal." The negationallyoriented concept of atonality never truly liberated itself from the consonance/ dissonance dualism; it indeed reveals an unfortunate dependence on this dualism, which it simply continues in an inverted form. Schonberg's remark -mentioned by Adorno-that the movement Mondfleck in Pierrot lunaire was composed according to strict contrapuntal rules, as consonances are only permitted with preparation and on the weak beatss, this is not simply ironic or humorous; beyond this, it exposes the restrictions of a harmonic language which defines its identity exclusively through its opposition to a past system, one which was, in fact, not even such a closed and unified one. A harmonic language truly capable of development can certainly not exhaust itself in representing the negative of an academically-understood tradition. Pansonorite stands for a comprehensive, affirmative new understanding of harmony; therein lies its continued creative potential. It almost seems as if one could-laying aside the problem-complex of theodicy-cautiously take up leibniz's concept of "pre-stabilized harmony" once more: every one of these infinite pitches can sound together with every other one; there is no fixed tonal system, no normative rules, but rather a free availability whose aim is to have the widest possible palette of harmonic sensations at its disposal. Pre-stabilization instead of pre-formation: harmony is pre-stabilized, whichever combination one chooses. This has nothing to do with chance or randomness, even if it initially seems so; for it is no longer an issue to find an ideal system, but rather to handle cautiously what one selects. Caution is of the utmost importance for anyone with a maximum variety of harmonic qualities at their disposal- not only because of the chaoid entropy of the phenomena themselves, but also because harmony plays such a central part in the act of musical listening. The conspicuous caution in earlier treatment of 4
See Gilles Deleuze/Felix Guattari, Was ist Philosophie? (Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, particular p. 224 f. and p. 240.
s
Theodor W. Adorno, Asthetische Theorie (Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 1995), p. 237.
2000),
in
dissonances is something which should neither be mourned as past nor looked down upon, as it stems, among other things, from the fact that harmonic sensation is a sensitive point, one that can arouse vulnerable psychological areas far beneath the surface. In Giacinto Scelsi's theory of basic musical elements, harmony corresponds to the psyche, while rhythm is assigned to the realm of vital dynamism, melody to the realm of the affective, and construction to the intellect. In comparison to melody as an expression of the affective, it is there argued that "harmony is an expression of darker, less easily classifiable images; these are also more unexpected and confusing." 6 Harmony thus corresponds-as also claimed by Ernst Kurth-to the most complex area of the soul, namely the unconscious.1
On the Theory of Harmony
Advanced harmonic phenomena have always eluded systematization. In contemporary music theory, one can usually search in vain for a discussion of the relevant recent developments.8 If it is to be truly open to new discoveries, music theory must lay aside its systematic compulsion and recuperate that which is individual. Harmonic theory in the strict sense, as we know, has only existe.d since Rameau; yet attempts to grasp the material of tonality extend far into the past. Two conflicting approaches can be found: the normative and the descriptive. The normative school of thought always attempted to present tonality as an absolute system, and thus provide a rationalist ontological justification for
6
Giacinto Scelsi, Sens de la musique, cited in Adriano Cremonese, Die Poetik Giacinto See/sis, in: Giacinto Scelsi: Im lnnern des Tons, Symposionsbericht des Musikfestes Hamburg (Hofheim: Wolke, 1993), p. 85.
7
It is natural to associate the musical developments around 1910 with Freud's simultaneous de· velopment of psychoanalysis. And indeed, those composers most interested in the depiction of suppressed regions of the soul have always sought to extend harmony and proved capable of doing so in a highly individual manner; one need only think of Gesualdo, Scarlatti, Bach and sons, Mozart, Schubert, Chopin or Wagner.
8 Editor's note: see Walter Gieseler, Harmonik in der Musik des
20. Jahrhunderts. Tendenzen Mode/le (Celle: Moeck, 1996); the special issue "TonSysteme" of the journal Positionen (48[2001D; Musik der anderen Tradition. Mikrotonale Tonwelten, special issue of the series Musik-Konzepte (Munich, 2003); and Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, Theses Concerning Harmony Today, in Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, Frank Cox, and Wolfram Schurig, eds., Polyphony & Complexity(= New Music and Aesthetics in the 2ist Century, vol. 1) (Hofheim: Wolke, 2002). For analyses of newer works incorporating microtonality, see Wieland Hoban, lnstrumentengeister in Zwangsjacken. Klaus K. Hiiblers Drittes Streichquartett, in Musik & Asthetik 15 (2000); Johannes Menke, Mathias Spah· lingers "gegen unendlich", in Musik & Asthetik 20 (2001); Caroline Oelume/Makis Solomos, Vermischte Bemerkungen zu Denken und Musik von Pascale Criton, in Musik & Asthetik 22 (2002); Frank Gerhardt, Hans lenders "music to hear", in Musik & Asthetik 23 (2002); Markus Roth, Konturen der UnschtJrfe. Mikrointervallik im Werk von Bernd Asmus, in Musik & Asthetik 24 (2002); Frank Cox: "Virtual" Polyphony: "Clairvoyance", for solo violin, in Polyphony & Complexity, op. cit.; and Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, "Medusa": Concerning Conception, Poetics, and Technique, ibid.
Thoughts on Harmony Today -
JOHANNE S MENKE
historically-evolved forms of listening; a breach of the system was therefore equated with an aesthetic mortal sin. This view extends from Pythagoras through Zarlino to Hugo Riemann, Heinrich Schenker and Paul Hindemith. The counterpart to this tradition is an empirically-oriented thinking which views all tonal systems as historically contingent and is concerned less with a closed system than with the sensual act of perception, interpretative psychological participation and aesthetic effects, thus with the individual work of art. This tendency is exemplified by such figures as Aristoxenes of Tarentum, Zarlino's opponent Nicola Vicentino and later Ernst Kurth and Arnold Schonberg. The descriptive approach must be augmented by a decisive, enlightened stance; it thus follows that one should discard the idea of harmony as a complex of natural laws to be explored, and instead recognize the relativity of any given system. Let us return to the problem of the traditional understanding of "atonality." What seems questionable is the fact that a negationally-oriented atonality had always to be incumbent on a normative understanding of harmony whose negative, to a degree, it appropriated. It should peripherally be noted-to avoid any misunderstandings-that rival movements which sought to continue the previous harmonic syntax or juggled about with traditional forms they had misunderstood produced results every bit as intolerable as the archaically medieval poses in the works of certain successful pop composers. Classical atonality remains one of our best models. We should nonetheless consider the following issues of critique: 1. Reified conception of material. It is beyond doubt that the definition of material was both sensible and fruitful. What seems questionable today is that a notion such as the "state of material" should suggest the aptness of a limited repertoire of musical elements and techniques. It seems to me that this is possible in retrospect: in the high and late baroque periods, for example, one finds a restricted pool of chords and progressions. Sounds can be classified and progressions more or less follow fixed models. If New Music-as some emphatically claim-should adhere to no conventions, one can certainly invert a material conception through negation, but what concrete tonal state of material is really meant? That of the ars nova, the madrigal, the empfindsamer Stil, late romanticism or Ennio Morricone? 2 . Separation of parameters. This step was of eminent importance for the generation of musical structures radically different from textural constellations of genuinely tonal provenance. It transpired, however, that there is not a limited, but rather an infinite number of (musical) parameters, and that their strict separation brings us to the limits of our perceptions. To name an example: in a context defined by extremely fine microtonal gradations (under 10 cents), it is difficult to distinguish between timbral/dynamic and pitch changes. Conversely, this also applies to certain alternative fingerings for woodwinds: a change in timbre can easily give the impression of a change in pitch.
3. The danger of a loss of harmonic affectivity. One can observe this in dodecaphonic music: there is the frequent impression-as diagnosed by Adorno-of a uniformly gray harmonic field where differentiation is all but impossible. Repeatedly, the vision of a music with a multi-faceted, sonic "driving force" (Triebleben) has remained an unsolved problem. A critique of negational atonality thus amounts to an "enlightenment of enlightenment." This also applies to our view of history, as the demise of tonality was followed by several concepts of an unconventionally-tonal music: Schonberg's emancipation of dissonance, Debussy's use of harmony as sound structure, Ives' harmonic dissociation, Varese's block-oriented approach, etc.
Microtonality and Ultra-Chromaticism Our introduction of the terms pansonorite and affirmative pre-stabilized harmony was intended to describe a virtual space, an inorganic compositional level with an infinite number of pitches. Our resources for precise instrumental or vocal sound-production are as limited as those of our auditory sense; Vishnegradsky therefore developed-on the level of concretion and realization-a different concept: ultra-chromaticism. This was the attempt to refine the familiar tempered scale to the limits of our perception. Its limited material stands less for a new system than a way of approaching the infinite. Vishnegradsky fixed an extensive limit by defining the audible range as covering seven octaves, as well as an intensive limit, by taking the 1/12 tone as the smallest distinguishable interval. This provides a maximum density of 72 pitches per octave, 505 for the entire audible range. Between this maximum density and the scale familiar to us, Vishnegradsky defined three further density-levels arising from binary or tertiary division: 1/4-tone, 1/6-tone and 1/8tone scales. Vishnegradsky's method has meanwhile become well-known, although one should not assume a direct relationship between this method and his actual musical thinking. The method's weakness is clear: the central reference to the 12-tone system with its retention of the octave and octave-identity. Ultrachromaticism, however, constitutes an effective pragmatic solution, and can even mediate the obvious contradiction between pansonorite and musical practice: instrumental and vocal performance simply require a degree of standardization (this at least achievable in the notation), yet every standardization implies a system, and thus a convention. 1/4-, 1/6-, 1/8- or 1/12-tones do therefore not constitute a guarantee of freedom, but rather a form of compositional resistance from which this freedom must be wrested.
I 74
Thoughts on Harmony Today -
JoHANNEs MENKE
Harmonic Language in Context Despite the progressive theory underpinning them, what disturbs the listener about Vishnegradsky's own music is its Scriabinesque inflexion; owing to the familiar morphology and syntax, the microtonality found here-particularly in the piano music-gives an impression of incorrect, distorted intonation. Microtonality can only realize its potential through the incorporation of a musical context. Generally speaking, we should bear in mind the frequently-neglected question as to the effects of a given harmonic language upon morphology, syntax, construction, and form. What causes many microtonal pieces to fail is their retention-in other parameters-of their connection to the 12-tone system. To put it bluntly, the microtonality found in such pieces is of little use. Naturally, an integrative view of harmonic language is nothing new; while in the 18th century it was the primary concern to distill harmony as an independent category; Ernst Kurth's achievement-in the early 2oth century-was to interpret Wagner's groundbreaking harmonic innovations in Tristan as an integral part of a fundamental change in musical language.9 This comparison should in turn demonstrate that the effects of microtonal resources upon all other musical characteristics might be inestimable.
Concerning Spectra/ism Admittedly, there are a number of convincing microtonal approaches. I would like to begin by addressing just one of these, one that I consider both aesthetically relevant and theoretically important: spectralism.10 This movement's achievement and consequent superiority lies in its understanding of the harmonic dimension, which-far more consistently than other approaches-attempts to encompass all musical dimensions. What Grisey demonstrates almost didactically at the start of Partiels is in fact the basis of a new harmonic conception. The first chord appears as a temporal expansion of the first note's spectral potential; the two objects seem related in the sense of impulse and reflex, and are perceived, in the course of their respective durations, as a unity. The entire first section of Partiels consists of a sequence of such unities that vary this principle (Example 1).
9 Ernst Kurth, Romantische Harmonik und ihre Krise in Wagners "Tristan" (Berlin: Max Hesses, 1923) (Reprint Hildesheim/ZUrich/New York: Georg Olms, 1985). 10 See Barbara Barthelmes, "Spektrale Musik". in Helga de la Motte-Haber, ed., Geschichte der Musik
im 20. Jahrhundert: 2975-2000 (• Handbuch der Musik im 20. Jahrhundert, vol. 4) (Laaber: Labber, 2000), pp. 207-246; Anne Sedes, "Die franzt>sische Richtung spektraler Musik. Gerard Grisey, Tristan Mu rail und das Umfeld", in Musik & Asthetik 21 (2002).
7s
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Example 1: Gerard Grisey, Partie/s (1975), opening
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ing a shorter passage for English horn-not contained in Gorgoneion-in which the soloist withdraws from the limelight through relatively uniform moto perpetuo activity, restrained dynamics, and the choice of a more neutral register, the multiphonics return with a vehemence that reveals their earlier appearances in the opening section as premonitions of disaster, and drags the ensemble into a maelstrom of self-destruction. What is conspicuous at the macro-formal level-particularly with reference to the solo part-is a division not so much into different formal components, as rather stations in a uniform process which unifies the diversity of its elements. This has favorable consequences for the composite work, but less so for the individual layers. For the almost constant density of texture for the most part prevents the actual forms of the subordinate solo pieces from asserting any identities of their own. Their entries are rather of demonstrative character: the mere fact of a harpsichord entry tells the listener that Pegasos is now appearing. What actually constitutes the identity of Pegasos, however, can hardly be ascertained in this context, not least because so quiet an instrument as the harpsichord is pitted against further soloists, not to mention the string section, which certainly maintains the work's putrid atmosphere through its almost continuous presence, but also tends to mask the soloists. On the basis of all this, it can be concluded that Mahnkoprs primary achievement in his first poly-work was the composition of an elaborate oboe concerto, but that the formal polyvalence did not yet entirely make the transition from its theoretical design to a palpable presence.
12 From Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, "Medusa: Concerning Conception. Poetics and Technique," in
Polyphony & Complexity (see footnote 2), p. 247.
103
I
The Medeia cycle is the best example of a conventional cycle, as its parts follow on from one another, and are related in terms of their material: the second half of the Kammersymphonie is read in reverse-with some changes -in the Zweites Streichquartett (which it leads directly into), while the "string serenade" Meta Medeian begins with the final chord of the string quartet, then reading the first half of the Kammersymphonie-again with changes-in retrograde. In the case of a complete performance, therefore, something like a mirrored reprise of the Kammersymphonie ensues which, however-both in its shaping and its instrumentation-takes a rather different course to the first run. The aim of this cycle thus seems less a conflict between incompatible architectonics than the subsumption of the internal forms within a meta-form. It is also worth mentioning a group of works related to this cycle, which I shall here refer to as the Wladimir constellation. The violin solo Wladimir, which does officially belong to the cycle, is not to be included in a complete performance. This is compensated for, however, by the existence of the aforementioned Wladimir constellation, which, in addition to Wladimir, consists of a second violin solo, Wladimir 2, which is unrelated to its predecessor, and the string trio Wladimir 2b. The connection between the constellation and the cycle lies not only in the fact that Wladimir forms a part of both, as Wladimir 2 is in fact a variant of the first violin's part in the last third of the Kammersymphonie, which seems to mutate into a violin concerto at this point. The string trio is an arrangement of Wladimir 2, in which the virtual polyphony of the violin solo-consisting in different strands of distinct character interrupting each other-becomes an explicit polyphony. In my view, the Kammerzyklus constitutes an attempt not to unify separate components within an overall structure, but rather the opposite: to craft the individual layers of the ensemble in such a manner that each can stand on its own. This distinction may seem mere sophistry, but its consequences are very clear in this case. In the composite piece, the Kammerkonzert for piano and 6 instruments, the components-two low trios for winds and strings respectively, and a piano piece (with additional cadence)-are entirely subsumed within the whole. There are no formal contradictions or overlaps. Furthermore, the trios follow-syntactically, if not morphologically-the piano's behavior so faithfully that they sacrifice most of their independence through this, instead uniting to form a conventional-albeit densely polyphonic-ensemble texture. Example 7 shows this particularly clearly. If one notes how closely-especially in the second measure-the three layers are connected, it is difficult to imagine them separately. Almost every wind or string entry is triggered by the piano, whose pitches are furthermore taken up by the instrument(s) in question, and every phrase in the strings begins together with one in the winds. The music is thus characterized by a mutual dependence among the parts-not merely a dependence of action, but above all a causal dependence. For the strings are hardly lacking in material; as
On the Methodology and Aesthetics of Form-Polyphony -
WIELAND H o e AN
far as the score of this passage is concerned, it could as easily be a trio as one layer of a septet. What characterizes an autonomous piece, however, is not its quantity of material, but rather its aura of functionality. How, then, can a heteronomous functionality-as evident here-achieve autonomy? To find the answer, let us examine the parallel passage in the separate Trio basso (Example 8). Example 7: Kammerkonzert, m. 48 ).sosub. D~·~ ' ~
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In Ange/us Novus, the superimposition of different constituents is reduced to a minimum. On the other hand, however, the following approach to overlaps and divisions is taken: Angela Nova is divided into 5 parts, which are placed as the tst, 3rd, 5th and 7th movements. Alternating with these are-in order-le reve d'ange nouveau, Zweite Kammersymphonie, part 1, Zweite Kammersymphonie, part 2. Subsequently, la vision d'ange nouveau enters, overlapping with the end of the 4th part of Angela Nova, and overlapping briefly with the start of the 5th part at the end. In addition to this, la terreur d'ange nouveau is split into short fragments which are distributed throughout the entire piece, and a nonnotated, completely improvised percussion part enters at random points in the overall work (though not in the final section, the Solitude·Serenade); these are therefore sometimes-depending on the activities of the other instruments -rather exposed, in other cases disappearing within the ensemble. The polyformal concatenation is followed by a manner of epilogue-after the end, as it were, from the hereafter: the Solitude·Serenade, which takes the Solitude· Nocturne of 1992/93 as its solo piccolo oboe part. The moment of densest superimposition comes at the start of the 5th section of Angela Nova, where La vision has not yet finished, and la terreur is still contributing its interjections. Example 9 shows this passage. In the Kurtdg cycle, one finds a return-following the various explorations of overlapping procedures-to superimposition, and thus also to the composite work, in this case a one-hour concerto for guitar and chamber orchestra (Hommage d Gyorgy Kurtdg). The soloist alternates between two differently-tuned guitars, each associated with a particular expressive character, and never plays together with the ensemble. As a separate piece, the solo part is in fact a guitar duo, in which the players-each with their own tuning-also never play together, instead pursuing their autistic monologues in alternation and ignoring one another. This piece is already guaranteed a certain autonomy through the fact that the guitar entries in the concerto are always interrupted by ensemble '
1106
""- On the Methodology and Aesthetics of Form-Polyphony -
W1 ELAN0 H oeAN
Example 9: Ange/us Novus, p.130
passages, and therefore never appear in this more fluent sequence. As in Medusa, the practice of dissecting the components for the composite piece
based on the same reservoir of pitches and rhythms, which each solo varies through transpositions, and by beginning the sequence of individual cells comprising the shared rhythmic material at a different point (in the sense of ABC, BCA, CAB). Another separate piece is for a sextet of two trumpets, two trombones, cymbalon and percussion whose form duplicates that of the concerto, and whose entries in the concerto are always brief, but extend throughout the entire piece. Within the sextet, a special role is allocated to the cymbalon, whose part-in a slightly altered form-is also a separate piece (Hommage Mark Andre). There are thus very clear parallels to Medusa: a primary soloist, and several secondary soloists whose contributions-as with Pegasos in the Medusa cycle-are split into a number of episodes, as well as a body of "supplementary" accompanying instruments-in this case harmonium, harp, celesta and strings-which also resembles that in Medusa. So, are there any significant discrepancies which mirror the space of ten years separating the two pieces? In the newer piece, there is a much more extensive use of cuts between short sections of component pieces, which obviously exert a great influence on the ensemble's constitution and thus on the overall form, while in Medusa this only applies to the harpsichord. Indeed, the continuous stream of Medusa is an entirely different world to that of the guitar concerto, where there is a degree of overlaying, but where the use of dramaturgical control-as is to be expected in a 65-minute piece-is much more significant, not least because so many distinct threads are intertwined. One can therefore-all similarities of technique notwithstanding-observe a certain development from entropy to clarity (at least in this work) which was presumably made possible by exploring different approaches to the composition of poly-works.
a
2.3: Mark Osborn's The Fluid Pronoun
This work for nine instruments and electronics, composed in 1999, is particularly suited to the purposes of this study-as it is intended here to show both paradigmatic and individual aspects-for the following reason: it contains, in part, exemplary mosaic-structures, yet at the same time treats the material taken from component pieces-Vice (1998) for cello and Virtue (1998) for flute and piano, both with electronics-in a rather unconventional manner. To highlight the singularity of Osborn's approach through comparison, let us recall Mahnkoprs Medusa, where pre-composed and supplementary material co-exist in such a way that hardly any passage is without material from the precomposed parts of the cycle. Furthermore, the concerto form presupposes a hierarchy which subordinates the effect and character of the "accompanying material" to the solo part. This is also the case with the Barrett work, where the plucked instruments in the first and last parts are used purely as an accompani-
I 108
On the Methodology and Aesthetics of Form-Polyphony - Wt ELAND
HoeAN
ment. Osborn, on the other hand-as he even emphasizes in his program note for the piece 13-is concerned with a dis solution of such hierarchies in favor of an interaction between equal parties; this ..democratic" approach is of course also in keeping, despite the composer's neo-social formulation, with the traditional idea of polyphony. This parity is achieved through two factors in particular: firstly the addition of several instruments which precisely do not function as a mere accompaniment, and secondly the arrangement of the cello material from Vice for string trio. This already suggests that we are dealing not with a competition among soloists-as in Medusa, or the final movement of Opening of the Mouth-but rather with material topoi which can be represented as well by one instrument as by several. This conceptual aspect is indeed suggested by the titles Virtue and Vice; as these are polar opposites, and also loaded with symbolic meaning, it is hardly surprising that they are fundamentally different in their respective instrumentation, and thus sound-world. It is equally fitting that the composite work is characterized by an integration of these; its expressive spectrum thus depends on, and even subsumes, the gulf separating them. The piece consists of 14 sections: t. mm. 1-9: introduction. Independent ensemble material + Vice tape part 2. mm. 10-47: Virtue mm. 6-43 3. mm. 48-65: Virtue mm. 44-61 + ensemble 4. mm. 66-77: Virtue mm. 62-73 5. mm. 78-109: Virtue mm. 74-105 + ensemble 6. mm. 110-116: Virtue mm. 106-112 7. mm. 117-125: Virtue mm. 113-121 8. mm. 126-129: Virtue mm. 122-125 9. mm. 130-138: Virtue mm. 126-134 + electronically distorted excerpt from Virtue 10. mm. 139-144: Virtue mm. 135-140 + Vice tape part 11. mm. 145-146: Virtue mm. 141-142 + Vice tape part+ ensemble 12. mm. 147-206: Vice mm. 77-136 13. mm. 197-199: Virtue mm. 148-150 + Vice 14. mm. 207: Vice m. 137 + Virtue mm. 155 But let us now return to the two primary factors of equality: the embedding within an ensemble context based on interaction, and the (incomplete) transcription of Vice for string trio. The first measures already show how the added instruments react to the found material: in m. 3, before Virtue has entered, 2nd 13 "If one believes, as I do, that aesthetic experiences shape our consciousness and influence our understanding of both personal and political matters, then it is necessary to choose between an art which accepts the conventional organizational methods of a hierarchical perception, and an art which encourages the perception of alternative relationships. This had led me to emphasize a form of selfless flexibility of execution which questions the claims of individuals and groups, of motives and textures to an equal degree." (Program note written for the 2002 International Summer Courses in Darmstadt)
109
I
flute and cello carry out a slow upwards glissando in unison, which is taken up by the low winds in the following measure (Example 10). Example 10: The Fluid Pronoun, mm. 3-4
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