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To
the Editor--
Grateful thanks for three recent
items on music: the article on the state of Contemporary
Music by K. Robert Schwartz on Aug 3rd, the letter by
Charles Greenberg and the piece by Paul Griffiths, both on
Aug 17th. All were most perceptive in discussing the effects
of Serialism on 20th century music. Unbidden memories
flooded back to me. With apologies to those who may be
offended or disagree, I'd like to add two topics of personal
observation, honest impressions of long ago.
TOPIC
ONE-- The suggestion in
the Schwartz article that it was difficult to be a composer
of non-serial music during the 50's through the 80's is in
no way unfounded or exaggerated. My negative experiences as
a composition student in the 60's at Brown and Columbia
Universities is corroborated by composer friends like
Corigliano, who studied in similar institutions before or
after me. When the topic of serialism comes up, many become
angry, and express frustrations I'd long ago tried to forget
-- the feeling of alienation and arrogant condescension if
one did not agree with this "Holy Grail". Thus Boulez's
nasty quote in that article is merely overtly typical.
No one claims there was a
SYSTEMATIC attempt to force all composition majors into
atonal practices. Of course not! No meetings were held, nor
secret handshakes created, to allow a Serialist Elite to
disenfranchise the (tonal) non conformist. None had to be.
It was "a mere case of prejudice", as unspoken, even
unconscious, as what white neighbors did to keep out black
residents during this era, or the corporate heads who
somehow always sidestepped women, non-whites, and known gays
for major appointments in their companies and corporate
board rooms. (Bless the exceptions, like Babbitt.)
Such a conceit by an
established musical creed is nothing new. Two generations
earlier, Edgar Varese described subtle pressures placed upon
students by a composition teacher, Vincent d'Indy, "to
become little d'Indys". I expect d'Indy would have been
horrified to hear the charge, and would wonder how it could
be so... Think of human nature in general, and you'll find
nothing surprising here. But to a naive student, it was
cruel.
I was luckier than most. Upon
realizing that my refusal to become a card-carrying
dodecaphonist would effectively remove me from any chance of
success as a new composer, I concentrated on the then new
field of Electronic Music. My love of counterpoint and
melody, orchestration and harmonic experimentation, could
find healthy expression there. And traditional compositional
skills lent an advantage over many in the field who had
mostly technical orientations/backgrounds, with little grasp
of musical construction and performance (sadly, this
situation continues.)
As a result I made my name in
Electro-Acoustic Music. I turned being dismissed by a
prevailing musical prejudice to my advantage, and tried to
help shape what has become a major branch of musical
expression (perhaps I ought thank them?) Nonetheless it
still hurts that I got boxed out of being considered a
composer in the widest sense. Orchestra commissions don't go
to "Synth Virtuosos" like Wendy Carlos. Yet the orchestra,
my first love, remained superior for sophisticated musical
timbre and gesture over the electroacoustic medium until
just recently, after decades of "diligent work in the
trenches" of the younger medium.
TOPIC
TWO-- When I went over
from a Physics major to music composition, it left me with a
much stronger background in math and acoustics than most
musicians. Thus I was unlucky enough to grasp that
Schoenberg's systematized serial methods are based upon a
lie -- that all intervals of the 12 note scale can be
treated democratically in a row. But these intervals aren't
the same acoustically, having developed from tetrachordal
tonal and diatonic scales of at least as far back as
Pythagoreus. Easley Blackwood has observed for a proper
serialism one need employ a scale that is "intervalically
neutral", such as the scales of 11 or 13 equal steps.
In this instance the
Serialists were conservative, and never stepped past the 12
tone scale. Their reluctance (or ignorance) led composers to
choose germinating tone rows that had minimal adjacency of
tonal intervals: no rich 3rds and 6ths, few dominant-tonic
implicating 4th and 5ths, which pretty much left what's
heard as the watermark of so much of this music: 7ths, 9ths,
and tritones. Only logical. (I've made a computerized count:
most 12-tone music uses the latter three intervals 55% of
the time, while all other musics seldom top 8% -- a
significant difference!) Like a diet of all spices and
little protein, fat or carbohydrate, it quickly loses its
appeal. If the 13-note scale had been adopted, the cliche
might not have arisen, as Schoenberg's initial goal would
have become much easier to achieve: a systematic avoidance
of tonal center, or "home key" (to oversimplify.)
When I tried to discuss some
of this with the teachers and serial-prone students around
me at Columbia, you can imagine the rebuff that I was given:
snotty and defensive. If I suggested that the so-called
"math" used for row manipulation (procedures that seemed to
intimidate a lot of other musicians -- perhaps the point)
was a rather weak copy of real permutation and commutation
theory, their fear, hatred and scorn reached new heights. I
learned fast to keep my mouth shut, while dutifully cranking
out several capable 12-tone compositions to obtain grade
credit, then tossing these papers later as initiation dues.
Wasted time. (That some decent dodecaphonic music was being
written seemed at the time an excellent example of "the
exception that proves the rule".)
We appear to live in better
times now, so that I can't help being relieved and a little
joyful to see a system which far too strongly dominated new
music in this century fade down a few notches. Cut down to
an appropriate size, it can remain one of the many
influences we have in our musics. I hope the future will be
less rigid, and embrace all sorts of possibilities that may
tempt the curiosities (and passions!) of an audience.
Perhaps keeping too close an
eye on an audience's "pleasure centers" (and wallets!)
quickly leads to commercial cliches and formula music at
best. After over three generations of compositions by
composers who effectively ESCHEWED these pleasure centers
with uncompromisingly homely, if not ugly music, I hope we
can better navigate to a healthy middleground. Bear in mind
that art does not progress, primitive to advanced, like
medicine or science -- like our humanity, it "just is".
Recent examples suggest we may be somewhere on the way to
such a spot right now. Amen.
--Wendy Carlos
New York City
(Copyright
1997 by Wendy Carlos)
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