May 3, 1923
MUSICAL COURIER
PRACTICAL INSTRUMENTATION
For School, Popular and Symphony Orchestras
By FRANK PATTERSON
Author of The Perfect Modernist
6
[Eighteenth Installment]
(This series of articles was begun in the issue of Janua'ry 4)
Copyrighted, 1923, by The Musical Courier Company,
out, vanishes into thin air without resolution or explanation. This is certainly not orthodox, certainly not the sort of thing one is taught in school. As to the why and wherefore of it, that is entirely beyond the power of the writer to state with any certainty, and guesses and speculations are not of much use. It is of use, however, to show the student what may be done, though it may need a judgment and a genius like Wagner’s to do it properly. (There is a similar effect at the beginning of the Liebestod in Tristan.)
No less remarkable, for that matter, is the final beat in this same bar where everything seems to peter out except the three melodic lines, which are not arranged as one would expect them to be arranged in the interest of fullness and sonority. It is just another illustration of the importance of melody— and melody does not mean merely a succession of notes but what the world recognizes as a tune or a piece of a tune—something tuneful, something that has a character of its own. That is the whole difference between “made” music and inspired music. And if the tunes are sufficiently inspired and have sufficient character they admit of a freedom of treatment that is impossible in a harmony or counterpoint exercise unless the student writes his own tune (“cahtus”). And that is the objection to exercises in the ordinary sense of the word—an objection that is very real.
Having the Parsifal score in hand we may look at another passage, page 130 of score (quoted in the Perfect Modernist, page 27), which offers another striking illustration of contrapuntal freedom. (See Ex. 49.)
The harmony is perfectly simple and almost fully expressed in the sustained notes, being a simple passage of seventh chord types (altered dominants) above a tonic pedal-bass. But the counterpoint moves with rather astonishing freedom, seeming in the second bar to express and to belong to a different harmony from that with which it is used. Here we have a clear enough diminished seventh chord with G sharp, but that does not deter Wagner from ■writing F, G natural, G sharp, A, suggestive of a dominant ninth in the key of C (G, B, D, F, A).
On the last beat of this bar we have an anticipation in the melody (C sharp) of the counterpoint, which takes the same note. (Compare Ex. 48, first bar, strings.) And in the first bar we have exactly the same sort of hidden octaves (D sharp־E, D natural E) as in the Tschaikowsky example, 46, and C sharp is taken on the same beat. ... As already stated, a certain stress is laid on these points because they are just the sort of things which the student is likely to avoid, with the result that his work does not flow, becomes jerky, and requires, too, far more effort in the making than is necessary.
It is important for the student to understand the essential difference between choral-writing (hymn-tune harmony) such as is always taught in harmony books, and the sort of harmony which the writer has called basic for want of a better word. The real difference is that in choral-writing there is no distinct sense of separation between melody and accompaniment, while in harmony of the other and far more common sort there is a distinct melody (tune) and a distinct accompaniment. It is• almost a fixed rule that basic harmonies (accompanying harmonies) change at the bar-lines. That is the chief reason for the existence of bar-lines, and the chief cause of rhythm. And this feature is so pronounced and so fully recognized by the musically-speaking unconscious• public that all sorts of variations and harmonic alterations may be used within the bar without disturbing the harmony. The same is true of counterpoint. But it must be clearly understood that one cannot combine the choral-style and this other style of harmony and counterpoint. The introduction of chords on each eighth note of the above examples, for instance, as in choral-writing, avoiding the sustained notes and the consequent dissonances, would destroy the entire effect, and the cross relations and false relations would then sound incorrect, just as the harmony books say they will.
(To be continued next week)
Counterpoint
Although not strictly in place, it is difficult to avoid saying something as to the nature of counterpoint as used in orchestral arrangements. The general rules are, of course, exactly as they are in all music, that is to say, within certain limits all melodies that will go with the same harmony will go together. But it must be remembered that in the orchestra the harmony may be clearly indicated and sustained so that it cannot be misunderstood, and, furthermore, the melodies and counter-melodies and counterpoints in the orchestra are all clearly separate to the listener. Consequently some things may be done on the orchestra that would be quite impossible or ineffective on the piano and will not suggest themselves to the composer unless he teaches himself to think in melodies or in parts. We will take for our first example two passages from Tschaikowsky’s fourth symphony, pages 23 and 155 of the score. (Ex. 46 and
Ex. 46
In Ex. 46 we have B natural in one counterpoint and B flat in the other, both moving upwards and both passing to C. There is nothing surprising about it and it would be hardly worth mentioning were it not for the fact that most students are taught counterpoint by old systems that talk about “hidden octaves” and are hardly likely to encourage such clashes as this. Also, many a student is puzzled about just such things, harmonies that are altered and scales which refuse to submit to the alterations. The rule is simple and resolves itself into a statement of the fact that a clash is better than unnatural voice writing, especially in rapid passages.
In Ex. 47 we have quite another form of rule-breaking which looks like fifteenth century music, only in fifteenth century music the parts would be carefully crossed so as to avoid “the appearance of evil,” while Tschaikowsky frankly writes consecutive fifths and octaves.
Wagner had an amazing sense of freedom in the writing of parts, and used two very distinct methods according to circumstances, the one wherein he paid no attention whatever to clashes, the other where he, like Tschaikowsky, left out notes that would interfere with the movement of some inner part. (See Ex. 48.) Parsifal, page 91 of score.
Ex. 48
Wood
Horns
Strings
Here we have in the second bar an excellent example of this and an interesting series of harmonies produced by the use of a slow chromatic in the dominant. In the same bar we have a run in the wood with a B flat in the first beat, suggesting a minor ninth, followed by a B natural in the strings, which becomes B flat, and with B natural simultaneously in the wood—cross relations or false relations with a vengeance, yet perfectly natural, and a thing that any composer may do with confidence.
In the first bar of the same example notice how the E in the upper voice in the strings seems to spoil the same E in the lower voice. It does not, of course, but the reason it does not is not because that sort of writing is always advisable, but because of the splendid vigor of both melodies.
Curious, too, is the string bass at the beginning of the second bar on E, where, apparently, the real base of the chord is A, and how the E simply fades