webern's opus 21 creativity in tradition

Webern's Opus 21: Creativity in TraditionAuthor(s): Kathryn BaileySource: The Journal of Musicology, Vol. 2, No. 2 (Spring, 1983), pp. 184-195Published by: University of California PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/763806 .Accessed: 20/03/2011 10:49

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WEBERN'S OPUS 21: CREATIVITY IN TRADITION

KATHRYN BAILEY

eber's great essay in symmetry, Opus 21, has been the object of a good deal of public scrutiny. The amazing degree to which all aspects of this work conform to palindromic constructions has been

examined numerous times; it is not my intention to offer yet another analysis. I am prompted to write about Opus 21 by what seems to me a general neglect of one of the most important aspects of the work: the unity of the whole. In a work which offers such a rich and rewarding abundance of detail, it is perhaps not surprising that the effect of the whole has been overlooked. This is, nevertheless, far too important an aspect of the work to be ignored.

One of the difficulties encountered in all of Weber's music has to do with the relationship between intellectual and aural phenomena. Frequently the tightest and most logical structures can be perceived only visually. This is surely paradoxical-not to say problematic-in an art which is pre-em- inently aural. The existence-and the unquestionable fascination-of these constructions tends to lead the observer into an apology which is based entirely on those things which are intellectually perceived, at the expense of the more immediate. In my view, Webern was by disposition a tradi- tionalist and was led to transform his inheritance only through a very con- scious and deliberate desire to refine, perfect and consolidate. Music remained largely an aural art for Webern, and I believe it is unfortunate that the perceptual aspect of his music is the one most often neglected. The structural anomalies of Opus 21-as well as the awesome manipulation of detail-take on a new significance when seen in the perspective of Webern's intentions for the piece as a whole. It is my purpose to examine the apparent departures from tradition, and, in some cases, from a context set up by Webern himself, as they contribute to a sense of balance and symmetry at a higher level of perception encompassing both movements.

The nature of the palindrome

Webern is dealing in Opus 21 with two kinds of palindrome, each singularly related to the construction of the row. The more obvious of these is a simple palindrome-a forward statement of material followed by its

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exact reversal. This construction is analogous to the conformation of the row itself. (See Example 1 below.) Example 1.

A . I

Paradoxically, however, the construction of a direct palindrome is not contingent on any particular quality within the row. No row can be itself an exact palindrome, as this would necessitate the repetition of pitches; conversely, any row, even one constructed at random, is capable of pro- ducing a palindrome when combined with its retrograde at the same level of transposition. A notable example of this is the first movement of We- bern's Opus 27.

The second (variations) movement of Opus 21 exploits this sort of palindrome. The Theme and Coda and all the variations except IV are direct palindromes; the same is true of the movement as a whole. Variation IV, standing at the center of the movement and, therefore, at the axis of the palindrome, uses a second, less obvious kind of symmetry.

This more subtle-and less exact-type of palindrome, one which, while not suggesting an analogy with the row, is possible only because of the unique character of this particular set of intervals and is therefore much more a child of this row than the type just described, is inherent in the relationship between the prime and its inversion three semitones higher.

AF# GA FDC# CEA CE DC# G B A F#

These two rows exhibit a symmetrical relationship of considerable sub- tlety. The most important characteristic of this relationship is that pairs of notes remain intact and operate as units. Reversal takes place on two levels. In the outer tetrachords, the units appear in reverse order in the answering row, while the internal order of their elements is unaltered. Conversely, the order of the units within the central tetrachord is the same in both rows, but the internal order of their members is reversed. At no point in the row do both levels reverse simultaneously. Thus none of the tetrachords is answered by its exact retrograde; this is prevented by the maintenance of the original ordering at one level or the other.

Order: I II III of units reversed same reversed of elements same reversed same

These two row forms-and any two which are related in this way-form a closed circle.

_ 1 _W 9_ A_ q4

0 I - _

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THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

Po P( - p () A F# G Al E F B B6 D C# C E'D C# F E B B G AlFA FG G A E F ....

It is this latter symmetry-that which exists between P, and 13-which is explored in the first movement. It is somewhat surprising, therefore, to find a direct palindrome at the center of this movement.

The centers of both the first movement (the axis of the palindrome just mentioned, mm. 34 and 35) and the second (Variation IV) are set apart from the surrounding music by fermate. Furthermore, Variation IV is the only free-standing section of a movement in which all other contiguous sections overlap. This isolation from the neighboring music would indicate that Webern considered these two central sections of especial importance; I believe the nature of their significance has not been fully realized. We will return to this later.

Webern's realization of the sonata principle

While there is general agreement that the first movement is in sonata form, this conclusion seems to have been made more on external than internal evidence, in many cases avoiding the question of content. The reprise of the row structure of measures 1-26 in measures 42ff. is usually cited as the decisive factor in determining the form. Certainly, as Siegfried Borris points out, the proportions and general outline conform to those often used by Haydn and Mozart-A repeated, BA repeated.' However, as these specifications also fit most of the dance movements of the later 18th century as well as a multitude of other pieces which are generally considered rounded binary, surely this alone is not sufficient reason to see this as a sonata movement.

Upon close inspection, one is struck by a number of things about this movement which do not conform to the classical-or the romantic-sonata structure. Some of these are:

1) the completely canonic content of the first (exposition) and third (reprise) sections;

2) the continuous nature of this material, hence the absence of contrasting sections (first and second themes);

3) the absence of any melodic or rhythmic material in the middle (development) section which bears a close resemblance to material in the opening;

'"Structural Analysis of Webem's Symphony Opus 21" in Paul A. Pisk: Essays in His Honor, ed. J. Glowacki (Austin, Texas, 1966), 232. Borris does not call the sections A and BA. He says, "The 1st movement...shows a distinct organization into an exposition (measures 1-25a), which is repeated, development (25b-43), and recapitulation (44-60) with a coda (61-66a). Development, recapitulation, and coda are repeated as a whole, as in the early classical sonatas of Haydn and Mozart." In my opinion, however, he fails to justify his designation of these sections as exposition, development, etc.. I find his "decisive criterion for Webem's use of a remnant of the sonata form" (p.233) unconvincing; having decided in favor of calling the last section a recapitulation, he then speaks of the section preceding as a development, apparently solely on the basis of its position relative to the recapitulation. He-like many others before and since-gives in his description of the middle section no indication that it functions in a developmental manner.

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4) the restatement of the entire row structure of the first section at exactly the same level of transposition, beginning in m. 42 (reprise); and

5) the obvious differences between the music of the first and third sections of the piece.

While canon is not unheard of in sonata forms, it is a technique associated with the development, rather than the statement, of materials, and therefore its appearance is usually limited to the middle section. In this movement, all three sections operate canonically; surely this must be seen as an important departure from tradition. In this case, what may on the surface of things appear to be no more than an interesting deviation from standard practice is in fact evidence of a very unusual perception of the form.

The first 26 bars of this movement consist of two mirror canons un- folding simultaneously. Both use the two-note overlap peculiar to this row and its inversion three semitones higher: the leading voice of the first canon goes through P, and 13 and is answered by I, and P,; in the second, the sequence I-P5-I1-P5 is mirrored by P4-I7-P4-I7. The two canons are similar in many other ways, as well. The chronological interval of entry is two bars in both cases; and in both canons the comes exactly duplicates the rhythm and durations, the segmentation of the row between instruments, and the sequence of timbres of the dux.2 With the exception of E-flat, every pitch class recurs always-in both canons-at the same octave level. (This will be dealt with later.)

In other respects, the canons are quite different. The table below offers a comparison of the unique aspects of the two canons.

The sameness of material throughout this section makes a division into two theme areas quite unthinkable. While this apparent monothematicism is certainly not without precedent in sonata expositions, it must be seen, in 1930, as a deviation from the standard form. Furthermore, if we consider the historical precedents for this treatment of sonata form, we immediately encounter one significant difference between the monothematic expositions of Haydn, C. P. E. Bach and others and the one presently under consid- eration. The monothematic exposition of the 18th century, while lacking a contrasting theme, did not want for the modulation to a contrasting key which was historically the basis of the form. I believe that in light of the new Viennese composers' respect for the governing principles of tonal forms3 it is an over-simplification, if not a gross misunderstanding, to fail

2Webern pairs the instruments of his orchestra in the following way: clarinet and bass clarinet, first and second horns, first and second violins, viola and cello. The harp answers itself. These pairs operate throughout the first section of the movement, with three exceptions, all occurring in Canon II: in mm. 16 and 17 the cello plays 5-8 of 17 in answer to the firs" violin's 5-8 of P5 two bars earlier; at the same time, the viola plays notes 1 and 2 of P5 and is answered by the second violin; notes 9-11 of the final Is are played by the bass clarinet and answered by the viola. The first two cases are only slight aberrations, as the answer is given by an instrument of like timbre in both instances; the irregularity in the second ending is much more striking and seems to point toward the third section of the movement, where this pairing of instruments with like timbres is abandoned.

-:'"For the rest, one works as before. The original form and pitch of the row occupy a position akin to that of the 'main key' in earlier music; the recapitulation will naturally return to it. We end 'in the same key!' This analogy with earlier formal construction is quite consciously fostered; here we find the path that will lead us again to extended forms." [Webem, in The Path to New Music, trans. Leo Black (New Jersey: Universal Edition, 1975), 54.]

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Canon I Both voices begin at zero level

of transposition. Rows are consistently divided

into tetrachords for purposes of orchestration.

Orchestration is palindromic: hns-clar-str-clar-hns.

Uses no harp or violins.

Long notes, slow tempo.

Stable rhythms generally support the written meter.

Second pitch repeated. Legato character: arco strings,

slurs.

Canon self-contained, comes to a close before the end of the section, begins over again upon repetition.

Canon II Both voices begin with transposed

rows.

Division of rows among instruments is irregular (although exactly imitated).

Sequence of instruments used is not symmetrically organized.

Uses no clarinets.

Quarter notes predominate, tempo about twice as fast as in Canon I.

Variety of rhythms, do not rein- force the meter indicated.

No immediate pitch repetition. Diversity of colors and effects:

staccato, pizzicato, mutes, grace notes, harmonics, double stops.

Perpetual canon, circular, over- lapping continues through repeat.

to consider traditional tonal requirements when examining twelve-tone structures. In the movement presently under scrutiny, each canon is constructed in such a way that the last two notes are the same as the first two- the end is, literally, the beginning. There can be no question, therefore, of the section ending on a tonal level different from that on which it began.

This brings me to the aspect of this exposition-for, indeed, it is one- which is most revolutionary. It seems to me that Webern was presenting in Opus 21 a completely new perception of the sonata form-a perception which is very much in keeping with his interest in two-dimensional symmetries-in which two bodies of material unfold simultaneously, making the perception of contrast in the exposition a vertical process rather than a horizontal one. This increased concentration of material and the correspond- ing abridgment in terms of chronological time are also fully in keeping with the direction taken by Webern in all his works after Opus 1. Understood in this way, two theme groups co-habit measures 1-26, one consisting of rather stable, memorable material with both voices beginning on the note v;hich acts as a fixed point of reference for the entire piece (tonic statement), the other consisting of much more colorful and elusive material using only transposed rows which function as the analogue to the traditional second theme key.

This particular pair of "keys" is especially interesting, since the central interval of both 1, and P4 is the tritone A and E-flat, the first and final notes of the row at its "tonic" level (P(,, Io). In every appearance of I and P4 in the exposition, these central notes are played as a double stop; no other double stops occur in this section. Conversely, the central notes of

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PO and Io in Canon I are F and B, and C-sharp and G, the outer notes of I and P4 respectively. Canon II provides a tonal complement or balance to Canon I, exactly the situation tradition demands.

The third of the questions raised above has to do with the middle section, measures 25b-44, which does not, at first glance, seem to relate to the exposition in the way a development ordinarily does. Over eighty percent of the notes in this section (discounting grace notes) are of values which do not appear in the exposition. The horns, which played an important part in the exposition, play only four notes in this entire section. The range opens out to four-and-a-half octaves from the three octaves plus two semitones of the exposition; registers are not frozen.

The fact that none of the musical ideas from the exposition seems to have found its way into this section is evidence, again, of a new perception of the form-a re-interpretation of, rather than a departure from, its basic concepts. This section indeed develops ideas which were presented in the exposition-the innovation lies in the nature of those ideas. They are not, as is traditionally the case, specifically musical ideas, but abstract ideas expressed in musical terms.4 This development section explores and develops those ideas on which the exposition was based-the musical realization of horizontal and vertical symmetry, through mirror canon and the palindrome.

The section is perfectly symmetrical. Like the exposition, it consists of a pair of mirror canons. However, in addition, the four voices join together in one single canon with respect to rhythm and durations and row segmentation, and the direction of movement is arranged so that the two prime rows mirror each other (inexactly), as do the two inverted rows. (See Example 2 below.) Example 2. *

I17 ._ ]-" tl .

Q P7 , . --- .

I.; A i I I

tr - 1A 2 d? J I J *: I .7 L . i I F I I

4Webern said in his third Path to New Music lecture. "Presentation of a musical idea: what is one to understand by that? The presentation of an idea by means of notes." [Ibid., 17.]

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Horizontally, the whole section is a palindrome. The instruments are paired as they were in the exposition with the exception of the two bars at the center, measures 34 and 35.

As, in the traditional development, the contrasting themes are played dramatically against each other, so the technical differences which distin- guished the two theme analogues-Canon I and Canon II-in the exposition are here exaggerated and re-combined. The longer note values of Canon I have been further lengthened, while the short notes characteristic of Canon II have been made even shorter. The rhythms are relatively constant, as was the case in Canon I; however, they do not conform to the written meter, a characteristic of Canon II. Rows are divided asymmetrically between instruments as they were in Canon II; the divisions are exactly imitated. The first canon to begin overlaps with its continuation after the axis of the palindrome, just as the end of Canon II overlapped with the beginning of its repetition; the second canon finishes completely at the axis and begins again, as did Canon I at the end of the exposition. There are numerous instrumental effects and grace notes, features associated with Canon II.

The rows used at the outset of the development stand in the same relationship to each other as the rows at the beginning of the exposition; here the whole complex is a perfect fifth higher. It seems to me not at all facetious to suggest this is Webern's salute to the usual move to the dominant at this point in the form.

The last questions raised at the beginning of this discussion have to do with the final section, measures 42ff. I find it puzzling that no one who analyzes this movement as a sonata seems bothered either by the reappear- ance here of all the exposition rows at the same level of transposition or by the striking difference of expression these rows experience on their return. The exact restatement of the row structure of the first twenty-six bars without alteration surely suggests a ternary rather than a sonata form, in which, as everyone knows, some of the exposition material should have undergone a change of key. What I suspect observers have simply overlooked as unimportant or considered an understandable lack of fidelity in the application of a tonally conceived structure to an atonal idiom is, in my opinion, not evidence of a cavalier attitude toward historical principles but the inevitable consequence of Webern's new interpretation of the form. The identity of structure and the entirely different nature of the material this time around are two sides of the same coin.

A transposition of the theme II analogue would not have been practic- able, owing to the fact that the two themes appear simultaneously. If both were stated at the zero level of transposition, the parts would be tonally parallel, and ineffective. Therefore, Webern's new perception of the exposition necessarily led to a new perception of the recapitulation-but not to a neglect of its historical function.5

51n one sense, the whole of the recapitulation is transposed; while the same row forms are used. the changes in register result in a shift of the center of gravity from the A of the exposition (the first note of the untransposed row) to E-flat (the final note of the row).

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Traditionally the recapitulation represents a resolution of the tensions which are characteristic of the development. In a very general way, this resolution can be seen in terms of acquiescence: one of the two opposing elements-in most cases, keys-gives way to the other. Because, in general, tonal opposition is not an effective tool in twelve-tone music, owing to the inclusive nature of the row, and because, in this specific case, tonal capitulation would have been disastrous, Webern fulfils the dramatic requirements of the recapitulation by means of dynamics, range, timbres and rhythm. Timbres are not in canon here, nor is the row segmentation imitated; dynamics, rhythm, range and orchestration all exhibit a great increase in dynamism and diversity compared with the exposition. The characteristics originally associated with Canon I yield completely and both canons upon restatement take on the character of the exposition's Canon II.

Again we are faced with an anomaly: traditionally the second theme defers to the tonic upon restatement; here the surrender is in the opposite direction. The dramatic significance of this role reversal cannot be over- estimated. It results in a basic shift of emphasis and, hence, a new perception of the form as a progressive, rather than a circular, one-a crescendo rather than an arch. The characteristics of the second theme analogue were instability, irregularity and unpredictability. The particular forms taken by these characteristics in the exposition are magnified in the development and further exaggerated in the reprise. Since the first heard and by far most memorable material in the exposition was what W. M. Stroh calls the horn fanfare6-a model of stability and equilibrium-this progressive focusing of attention on those opposite qualities represented in the second canon culminating in their complete dominance by the end of the movement results in a gradual and inexorable increase in intensity which is aided structurally by the tension resulting from the discrepancy between what is expected and what actually happens in the recapitulation.

The obscuring of structures

The disguising of the closed form of the first movement through a steady metamorphosis of surface details is only one example of something which I believe to be an important characteristic of the piece as a whole: the purposeful and very careful obscuring of structural features. The contour of the second movement is similarly masked.

Just as what I chose to call theme analogues in the first movement were musical manifestations of abstract ideas, so also the theme to be explored and varied in the second movement is a principle rather than a melody. These are variations on the palindrome. Each of the nine sections of the movement is symmetrical, and the row structure of all nine taken together forms a palindrome.7

6Wolfgang Martin Stroh, Webern Symphonie Op. 21 [Heft 11. Meisterwerke der Musik (Miinchen. 1975)]. 10. 7For an analysis of this movement, I would direct the reader to Mark Starr's "Webern's Palindrome" in Per-

spectives of New Music 8/2 (1970). 127-42.

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The nine sections fall into three equal groups with respect to the type and completeness of symmetry exhibited. Both the Theme and Variation I are based on sets of row forms which offer the potential of complete symmetry, but in neither case is this potential realized. Variation II is symmetrical except for the horn part, which does not reverse. The first three palindromes, therefore, are for one reason or another imperfect or incom- plete.

The symmetrical possibilities which were inherent in the first three sections are fully realized in the last three: the reverse of the horn series in Variation II occurs in Variation VI, thus creating, with the earlier variation, a palindrome; and the necessary adjustments have been made to the material of Variation I and the Theme in order to produce in Variation VII and the Coda the total symmetry which was lacking earlier.

The central three sections of this movement are related to each other through the employment in all three of the P,-I3 symmetry used extensively in the first movement and nowhere else in the second. In Variations III and V, while adjoining rows stand in the Po-I3 relationship to each other, all rows are also accompanied by their retrogrades, and direct palindromes are produced. Only Variation IV exhibits the sort of symmetry that characterized the earlier movement-the statement in reverse order of two-note cells. Perhaps it is in order to provide a foil for this central, unique variation- the only section of this movement which does not possess the potential for symmetrical perfection-that the two flanking variations present a series of small and very audible palindromes (in mm. 35, 37, 39, 41 and 43; and in mm. 56f., 58f., 60-61, 62-63 and 65f.).

The ingeniously constructed palindrome which is formed by the nine sections of the second movement is a marvel to be admired only by those who examine the score and analyze the row structure. To the listener is presented the most deceptively simple string of variations, each with its own distinctive instrumentation, rhythms, articulation, and so forth-features which do not recur in symmetrical fashion. The listener could never be expected to know that he is hearing a palindrome which encompasses the movement as a whole. He will not, for example, recognize the horn melody 6'f Variation VI as the retrograde of the same instrument's part in Variation II because of the very different rhythmic and melodic form taken by this line on its return (although he will very likely make some connection between the two variations, as they are the only ones in which the horn plays all the time), and it is doubtful that he will hear anything which would cause him to relate Variation VII to Variation 1. He will hear the numerous small palindromes in Variations III and V (see above) but will probably not hear any complete section as a palindrome until the Coda.

Many local events in Opus 21 are similarly clouded. One example is the axis of the palindrome in the first-movement development, an event of considerable importance. Here the use of grace notes, which always precede and never succeed the principal notes, results in a shift of emphasis from

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C and D as the main notes heard in m. 34 to B and C-sharp in m. 35. (See Example 3 below.) Example 3.

HM^Jl. Y|1r

From the simple voicing of these bars and the way in which they are isolated from the rest of the development byfermate, it is clear that Webern wanted the significance of this event to be perceived, yet it is equally apparent that-having called attention to it-he wished to minimize its symmetry.

Another example of the disgusing of a small structure occurs in Var- iation V of the second movement. In this case, the deception has been so successful that fifty years later Mark Starr seems still to be the only one to have noticed the ingenious-and absolutely essential-canonic structure of this variation.8 Since the listener is unaware of many of the structural complexities in a good deal of Webern's music, the fact that one will not notice the canon in Variation V may seem to be a point not worth belaboring. However, the situation here is in fact very interesting. Variation I will serve as an example of the familiar problem: it is unlikely that the listener will hear two mirror and retrograde canons in this variation because of his inability to comprehend the wealth of complex relationships which are ex- posed in a very short period of time. In Variation V, on the other hand, the listener is faced not with complexities that he is unable to penetrate and identify but with a deceiving simplicity which entirely hides the real structure. Whereas the listener's incomprehension is in the first instance unfortunate but unavoidable, in the second it is carefully contrived.

I do not suggest the same reason for all the obscurities in Opus 21. The veiling of local events I think can be ascribed to Webern's predispo- sition toward formal elegance. I believe, however, that there was a more specific motive for the masking of large-scale structures; we will return to this presently.

Centers of gravity

Considerations of symmetry, regularity are now to the fore, as against the emphasis formerly laid on the principal intervals-dominant, subdominant, mediant, etc. For this reason the middle of the octave-the diminished fifth- is now most important.9

No work better illustrates the importance of the tritone in Webern's thinking than Opus 21. The row of this work ends a tritone away from its

8The several analyses of Opus 21, mostly German, which have appeared since 1970 seem to have been unanimous in their failure to notice this canon (and also, apparently, Mr. Starr's article).

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beginning-A to E-flat-and the two halves of the row are joined by another tritone-F to B.

The pitches used in the first movement exposition produce a mirror centered around the A below middle C. Pitch levels are frozen within this section, each note and its answer being equidistant from the central A. The note a tritone away from this point of reference must, of course, be answered by its octave, hence the single exception to the rule of frozen registers (see above); in order for the symmetry to be perfect, there must be two E-flats. I have mentioned earlier (see note 5) that E-flat is the center of gravity in the recapitulation, although the row forms used there are the same as in the exposition. In this way the recapitulation balances the exposition; in addition, the progress of the movement from the exposition in A through the recapitulation in E-flat parallels the tonal structure of the row on which it is built.

In a slightly different sense, the second movement complements the first. Whereas the first movement begins and ends with Po, in which the framing tritone is A-E-flat and the central one F-B, the second movement begins and ends with the exact complement of that row-I,, in which the framing tritone is F-B and the central one A-E-flat. (This was the "key" of the second theme analogue in the first movement, as well.)

Conclusions

Several peculiarities have been noted in the preceding examination of Opus 21.

1) Webern is working with two kinds of palindrome; the first movement deals primarily with one type and the second primarily with the other. At the center of each movement the type of palindrome characteristic of the other movement appears.

2) The sonata movement, while conforming with great care to the traditional sonata principles, departs radically from the dramatic shape usually associated with this form. The recapitulation-the section which traditionally offers the possibility of a type of symmetry (ABA)-in this piece which is obviously dedicated to the exploration of symmetrical possibilities is written in such a way as to deny the perception of this symmetry. The dramatic shape is perceived, rather, as a steady progression from stability to diversity.

3) The symmetrical structure of the second movement is similarly obscured by details. The palindromes in the second movement progress from imperfect to perfect, and only the Coda is likely to be perceived as a palindrome.

4) The row form which opens and closes the second movement is the exact complement of that which performs the same function in the first movement.

It should now be apparent that all of these features contribute to a unity at the highest level. These two movements, which are very different in so many ways, are inseparable siblings, linked as closely and in very

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much the same way as the several movements of many giants of the 19th- century literature-the Liszt sonata or the Brahms G Major violin sonata, for example, or the Franck symphony or any of a dozen others. At the most crucial point in the structure of the first movement, one glimpses the technique which is to dominate the second; and the peak of the arch in this latter movement is a reference to that technique which characterized the first. Thus, the significance of the shift from one palindromic technique to the other in the center of each movement is understood only when the movements are considered together as two parts of a whole. Either alone is slightly anomalous.

The row forms used to open and close the two movements clearly enhance this complementary relationship.

The structures also reflect this desire for unity. The perplexing refusal of either movement to conform aurally to the tight structural symmetry which is evident upon analysis must be seen as contributing to symmetry on yet another level.

The listener is aware of the local symmetries which occur at various points throughout the piece; he cannot, however, recognize the truly awe- inspiring over-all symmetry of either movement. The first movement was described above as a progression from symmetries introduced at the beginning through steadily increasing diversity to irregularity in the reprise. The second movement presents the reversal of this process. Here the arch is obscured by the reservation of perfection until the end-the potential for symmetry introduced in the first three sections is realized only upon their return. The steady progression of surface details in the first movement which obscured the closed nature of the structure was in fact one half of a palindromic succession of events-from perfection to irregularity to perfection-which is completed by the second movement. In the end, the perceptive listener should-in spite of his unavoidable inability to recognize many of the complexities of the piece-hear this symphony as a symmetrical work, progressing from the clear and regular to the diverse and irregular and back again. Webern is carefully balancing several structures which unfold simultaneously at different levels of comprehension, the occasional obscuring of design at one level serving to clarify the contour of another.

In the final analysis, Opus 21 is two quite different pieces-a visual, intellectual piece and an aural, immediate piece, one for the analyst and another for the listener-both concerned with exploring the musical palindrome, and both perfectly logical and balanced. Webern's assertion that "Great composers have always striven to express unity as clearly as possible" 0 was not a casual observation; and in this respect, at least, few composers could be said to have been greater.

University of Western Ontario

'Ibid., 52.

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Article Contentsp. 184p. 185p. 186p. 187p. 188p. 189p. 190p. 191p. 192p. 193p. 194p. 195

Issue Table of ContentsThe Journal of Musicology, Vol. 2, No. 2 (Spring, 1983), pp. i-iv+115-214Front Matter [pp. i - iii]Museum Pieces: The Historicist Mainstream in Music of the Last Hundred Years [pp. 115 - 134]Gerald of Wales and the Sumer Canon [pp. 135 - 150]C. P. E. Bach's "Variations" and "Embellishments" for His Keyboard Sonatas [pp. 151 - 173]Music Publishing and Dissemination in the Early Nineteenth Century. Some Vignettes [pp. 174 - 183]Webern's Opus 21: Creativity in Tradition [pp. 184 - 195]Tales of a Traveling Music Historian [pp. 196 - 205]Conference ReportBaroque Festival Symposium Washington University, St. Louis, Missouri 25-26 February, 1983 [pp. 206 - 208]

Reviewuntitled [pp. 209 - 214]

Back Matter

webern's opus 21 creativity in tradition

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