Solo Cello Research Articles

Sonata No. 1 for Violin Solo, Opus 82 ; and: Sonata No. 2 for Violin Solo, Opus 95 ; and: 24 Preludes for Violoncello Solo ; and: Three Palms, Opus 120 ; and: String Quartet No. 14, Opus 122 ; and: String Quartet No. 15, Opus 124 by Mieczysław Weinberg (review)

Reviewed by: Sonata No. 1 for Violin Solo, Opus 82; and: Sonata No. 2 for Violin Solo, Opus 95; and: 24 Preludes for Violoncello Solo; and: Three Palms, Opus 120; and: String Quartet No. 14, Opus 122; and: String Quartet No. 15, Opus 124by Mieczysław Weinberg Daniel Elphick Mieczysław Weinberg. Sonate Nr. 1 für Violine solo= Sonata No. 1 for Violin Solo, Opus 82. Hamburg: Sikorski Musikverlag, 2014. [Score, p. 1–24. ISMN 979-0-003-04040-0, pub. no. H.S. 2432. €16.] Mieczysław Weinberg. Sonate Nr. 2 für Violine solo= Sonata No. 2 for Violin Solo, Opus 95. Hamburg: Sikorski Musikverlag, 2014. [Score, p. 1–14. ISMN 979-0-003-04041-7, pub. no. H.S. 2433. €12.] Mieczysław Weinberg. 24 Präludien für Violoncello solo= 24 Preludes for Violoncello Solo. Hamburg: Sikorski Musikverlag, [2014]. [Score, p. 1–36. ISMN 979-0-003-03936-7, pub. no. H.S. 2420. €20.50.] Mieczysław Weinberg. Drei Palmen= Three Palms. Poem nach Versen von Michail Lermontow für Sopran und Streichquartett= Poem on Verses by Mikhail Lermontov for Soprano and String Quartet, Opus 120. Hamburg: Sikorski Musikverlag, 2013. [Score, p. 1–36 + 4 parts (Violino I, Violino II, Viola, and Violoncello). ISMN 979-0-003-04035-6, pub. no. H.S. 2430. €37.] [End Page 619] Mieczysław Weinberg. Streichquartett Nr. 14= String Quartet No. 14, Opus 122. Hamburg: Sikorski Musikverlag, 2012. [Score, p. 1–34 + 4 parts (Violino I, Violino II, Viola, and Violoncello). ISMN 979-0-003-03876-6, pub. no. H.S. 2414. €36.50.] Mieczysław Weinberg. Streichquartett Nr. 15= String Quartet No. 15, Opus 124. Hamburg: Sikorski Musikverlag, 2012. [Score, p. 1–40 + 4 parts (Violino I, Violino II, Viola, and Violoncello). ISMN 979-0-003-03877-3, pub. no. H.S. 2415. €38.50.] In recent years, Mieczysław Weinberg (or Moseĭ Vaĭnberg, to use the spelling adopted by the Library of Congress; the latter will be used in this review) has been celebrated as a confident voice in Soviet music, and promoted as a lyrical complement to Shostakovich’s grotesque and monumental styles. In particular, Vaĭnberg’s chamber music has proven popular among performers and audiences alike. The editions featured here lack any foreword or commentary, and as a result, some introduction to his life and times may be helpful. Vaĭnberg (1919–1996) was a Polish-Jewish immigrant to the U.S.S.R. who achieved great success during his heyday, but eventually fell into neglect toward the end of his life. His biography is certainly unique: he evaded the Nazis twice, only to suffer anti-Semitism at the hands of the Soviets. In addition, his father-in-law was murdered on Stalin’s orders in 1948, and Vaĭnberg himself was briefly imprisoned in 1953 on trumped-up charges of “Jewish bourgeois nationalism.” Despite such treatment, Vaĭnberg continued to hail the U.S.S.R. as his savior from the Nazis, since his close family remained in Poland only to be murdered in the Holocaust (for an excellent overview of Vaĭnberg’s life and works, see David Fanning, Mieczysław Weinberg: In Search of Freedom[Hofheim: Wolke, 2010]). Vaĭnberg was an extremely prolific composer, producing twenty-six symphonies, seventeen string quartets, seven operas, some two-dozen song cycles, and around thirty instrumental sonatas. While some critics prematurely dismissed him as a “little Shostakovich,” many have since come to appreciate his highly expressive voice. Vaĭnberg and Shostakovich were close friends, and they showed each other their works in progress—in some cases, ideas can be shown to have originated from the younger composer (see Daniel Elphick, “Wein berg, Shostakovich, and the Influence of Anxiety,” The Musical Times155, no. 1929 [Winter 2014]: 49–62). In a handful of instances, it is difficult to surmise where ideas first originated. As a result, a considerable number of critics now speak of Vaĭnberg as the third composer of Soviet music, after Shostakovich and Prokofiev. The revival since his death has resulted from the tireless efforts of many individuals, performers and critics alike. The biggest success in recent years has...

“A Disturbing Lack of Musical and Stylistic Continuity”? Elliott Carter, Charles Ives, and Musical Borrowing

Elliott and Charles Ives shared complex personal and professional relationship. Ives supported Carter's musical pursuits as young man and remained guiding influence throughout his career. As Jan Swafford writes, however, Carter, whose mature music would owe great deal to Ives ... would pay back his mentor with baffling mixture of admiration, advocacy, and cold repudiation (Swafford 1998: 334). Although he eventually softened his early criticism of Ives and acknowledged his musical debts, was consistently puzzled by the stress in Ives's music on musical borrowing--i.e., the procedures by which composer includes material from or refers to pre-existing musical pieces in the context of an original work. (1) As put it, Ives's reliance on quotations accounted for a disturbing lack of musical and stylistic continuity (Perlis 1974: 145). On another occasion, described Ives's inclusion of popular songs and hymns as constantly (Edwards 1971: 63). (2) In view of these and numerous other statements, it is equally perplexing that borrows from Ives's music on several occasions, most overtly in his 2001 Figment No. 2 (RememberingMr. Ives) for solo cello. This composition contains literal snippets and gestures from, as well as stylistic allusions to, two Ives pieces: the Concord Sonata and Hallowe'en. In what follows, I explore the ways in which borrows from Ives both literally and figuratively; how he incorporates those quotations into his music; and how he evokes Ives's memory and musical style in several works. Along the way, I illuminate some contradictions of Carter's aesthetic stance and connect them to broader problematics in late twentieth-century modernism. The Quotation Problem In nearly all of his writings on Ives, acknowledges and admires Ives's musical innovations, particularly those in rhythm and temporality. For example, in 1973 letter to John Kirkpatrick, observes: What is interesting about Ives, today, are the many different procedures he thought up, so it seems, to produce his polyrhythmic and dissonant (quoted in Meyer and Shreffler 2008: 210). Several scholars have previously investigated Carter's interest in Ives's abstract compositional techniques. Felix Meyer and Anne Shreffler explain that Carter the composer continued to find solutions for the same musical problems that Ives had posed: the combination of different groups of instruments moving at different speeds, new formal concepts, new ways to control the flow of time, and ways of orchestrating so that complex polyphonic could be clearly (6). David Schiff also notes that textures reminiscent of Ives's music can be heard throughout Carter's mature works, in abstract form (Schiff 1983: 35). Considering his admiration for such compositional procedures in Ives's music, it is peculiar that seldom comments on the large body of music Ives composed without any trace of musical borrowing. Many of these pieces such as the piano studies were intended as compositional experiments and show Ives's imagination at its most fertile. In them, he creates and solves particular musical problems of rhythm, pitch, and temporality in smaller settings. (3) In fact, majority of these works would have interested in light of their compositional rigor, but he chose not to comment on them, highlighting instead his disagreements with Ives's music that contains quotations. To take an example of his problematic stance toward quotation in Ives's music, consider what wrote in an essay from 1974: As for myself, I have always been fascinated by the polyrhythmic aspect of Ives's music, as well as its multiple layering, but perplexed at times by the disturbing lack of musical and stylistic continuity, caused largely by the constant use of musical quotations in many works. To me composer develops his own personal language, suitable to express his field of experience and thought. …

Suíte Nº 1 para violoncelo solo de Max Reger e a escrita de J.S. Bach: relações de dependência e identidade de linguagem

O presente trabalho busca demonstrar como Max Reger emprega modelos de J.S. Bach na construção de sua Suíte Nº 1, Op. 131c. Dessa forma, em sua escrita, Reger combina elementos da harmonia do final do século XIX com técnicas contrapontísticas de J.S. Bach. A influência do mestre barroco é visualizada desde a escolha das tonalidades até a utilização de motivos que são, de fato, transformações e expansões de motivos “bachianos”. Portanto, este trabalho discute as técnicas de composição empregadas por Reger na Suíte Op. 131c nº 1, como também traça um paralelo entre essa obra, em particular, com movimentos das suítes para violoncelo solo de J.S. Bach. Respaldado pela linguagem baseada no cromatismo, Reger resgata, ao mesmo tempo, o gênero Suíte na literatura solo do violoncelo, e sob a égide da estética do romantismo tardio, cria uma obra com características e estilo próprios. A partir dessas premissas, o trabalho propõe subsidiar o intérprete em suas decisões interpretativas.

Performing Classical Music in the 21st Century

Name: Alistair Sung Main Subject: Classical Cello Research Coaches: Gerard Bouwhuis, Renee Jonker Title of Research: Performing Classical Music in the 21st Century Research Question: Can a reconsideration of presentation, programming and audience relationship influence the response to classical music? Summary of Results: The financial and cultural climate of the past 50 years has changed the way in which classical music is perceived. Where once it was valued as a crucial part of a healthy society, it has now grown isolated from mainstream culture and has been relegated to the periphery of modern cultural life. This paper will examine how these recent cultural and social developments occurred and focus on their effects on the performance of classical music in the 21st century. Through an analysis of new and existing approaches to performance, a framework will be established which will form the basis of a test concert. Data gained from this concert will then be analysed in order to explore the possibility of altering existing concert conventions to respond to the problems facing the performance of classical music. Research will be presented in the form of a research paper. Biography: Alistair began learning the cello in Sydney Australia with Marcus Hartstein and David Pereira. After attending Newtown High School of Performing Arts, Alistair completed his Bachelor Music (honours I)/Bachelor Arts (philosophy) at the University of New South Wales in 2010. On graduating, Alistair was awarded the university medal and his honours thesis, ‘Variety in Performance: A Comparative Analysis of Recorded Performances of Bach’s Sixth Suite for Solo Cello’ was co-published in the Empirical Musicology Review (Ohio State University). Alistair is currently completing a Masters degree at the Koninklijk Conservatorium in The Hague with Larissa Groeneveld.

Enemy of the People

Enemy of the People

Disruptive Spatiality and the Experience of Recordings of Bach's Solo Cello Suites

Antechamber: Bach and Space Architecture, so the saying goes, is "frozen music." Music, conversely, is "liquid" architecture. (1) This aphorism, popular in the early nineteenth century, soon became a cliche. "Should one perhaps speak of ruins," quips Schopenhauer in 1844, "as a 'frozen cadenza'?" ([1819/44] 1977:534). However maligned, though, the cliche persists in Bach studies. It is still commonplace to speak of the "architecture" of Bach's music (Wolff 1969; Schulenberg 1992; Corten 1995), and even the composer himself has been labeled an "architect" (Joseph 1992). The very structures of this music, we are frequently told, are "architectonic." While discourse on Bach has tended to adopt this architectural metaphor as an unquestioned, and at times tacit, assumption, there is little evidence to suggest that his music corresponds with any degree of precision to concrete examples of architectural theory or practice. Nor have commentators drawn consistent parallels between Bach's music and any one architectural style, let alone a single historical period. The analogy between high Gothic architecture and Bach's counterpoint was common in the first half of the nineteenth century, and articles and books on Bach continue to be peppered with pictures of Gothic cathedrals. Other commentators, however, claim to detect stylistic parallels with the architecture of Baroque Rome: Raymond Court, for instance, writes that "we place the music of J. S. Bach opposite this grand Baroque architecture of papal Rome as in a mirror in order to discover analogous stylistic traits" (1989:15). It is easy to see how images of tall Gothic spires, lofty vaults, and slender columns summon up a widespread--and often explicitly theological--image of Bach. Yet most detailed and concrete attempts to unearth an architectural principle behind the music evoke the ideals prized by Renaissance architects of "exact proportion, suitable disposition, and harmonious order" rather than the asymmetrical excess of the Baroque (Joseph 1992:83). As commentators track symmetries and reveal the elegant proportions of Bach's forms, their analytical diagrams begin to look like blueprints, such as Wolff's (figure 1). [FIGURE 1 OMITTED] Analyses which claim to detect an architectonic structure in Bach's music usually aim to elucidate geometrical designs and numerically conceived hierarchies and patterns. When Ulrich Siegele asserts, for example, that the formal dispositions of Bach's concerto movements reveal a marked tendency towards proportional shaping (1997), he subscribes to a long-standing analytical paradigm which has tended to dominate literature on Bach, especially in studies of his ritornello forms. There is also widespread support for the idea that Bach demonstrates a strong interest in symmetrical design in certain passages of his large-scale choral works, including, for instance, the Symbolum Nicenum of the B Minor Mass (e.g., Butt 1991 and Stauffer 1997). Eduard van Hengel and Kees van Houten (2004), for example, rely on considerations of symmetry to argue that, contrary to established scholarly opinion, the "Et incarnatus" had been planned from the outset. (2) They suggest that a "quick look at the facades of Baroque and Classical palaces, churches, residences, and other large, multisectional buildings" would corroborate their claims (2004:93). In short, to liken Bach's music to architecture is to say that its structure exhibits some kind of symmetry or that its formal arrangement is governed by proportions. Because the analogy between musical structure and architectural design hinges on the mathematical principles and ratios which are said to underpin both, it is, unsurprisingly, often closely associated with numerological analysis. Much doubt, however, has been cast upon the interpretative value of readings which center around number symbolism, as well as their historical validity as a guide to pre-compositional thinking. …

The Parameter Complex in the Music of Sofia Gubaidulina

Although the music of Sofia Gubaidulina is well known, it has received little analytical attention. Approximately twenty-five years ago her friend and colleague Valentina Kholopova worked out a system for analyzing Gubaidulina’s music. Kholopova shows that the composer usually groups together five so-called expression parameters (EP): articulation and methods of sound production, melody, rhythm, texture, and compositional writing. Moreover, each EP has either a consonant or a dissonant function; rarely does Gubaidulina mix the two functions. These ten parameters—five EPs functioning as either dissonant or consonant expressions—form what Kholopova calls the Parameter Complex in Gubaidulina’s music. In this article I examine these topics, using Gubaidulina’s Concordanza and Ten Preludes for Solo Cello as exemplars.

Performing solo Bach: A case study of musical decision-making

This study explores how an expert period instrument musician makes musical decisions, focusing on the distinction between intuitive (Type 1) and deliberate (Type 2) processes as defined by dual-process theories of cognition (Evans, 2008). A case study of the cellist Daniel Yeadon was conducted over 2 years, during which extensive quasi think-aloud and performance data were collected regarding Yeadon’s interpretation of the Suites for Solo Cello by J. S. Bach (BWV 1007–1012). Analysis of this data resulted in the categorization of 134 musical decisions as intuitive, procedural, deliberate, or deliberate HIP (historically informed performance). Procedural decisions were a subset of intuitive, defined as previously deliberate decisions that had become automatic over time. The category of deliberate HIP consisted of decisions that were explained with reference to specific knowledge of historical performance practices. A large proportion of deliberate decision-making was found (65% overall), with deliberate processes dictating the majority of decisions across all performance features except for tone color and ornamentation. Musical decisions discussed in the study demonstrate that performers often manipulate several features of the music simultaneously (making coding and analysis complicated), whether consciously or otherwise. The highest number of musical decisions related to articulation and phrasing, a result that highlights important components of current HIP style. Implications for dual-process theories include the novel category of procedural that demonstrates differences within intuitive (Type 1) processes.

British Music and Literary Context: Artistic Connections in the Long Nineteenth Century by Michael Allis (review)

British Music and Literary Context: Artistic Connections in Long Nineteenth Century. By Michael Allis. (Music in Britain, 1600-1900.) Wood - bridge, UK: Boydell Press, 2012. [xii, 320 p. ISBN 9781843837305. $99.] Music examples, illustrations, bibliography, index.Contributing to ever-diversifying field of interdisciplinary scholarship on nineteenth-century British music, Michael Allis's exploration of vibrant and diverse musical-literary correspondence in this period (p. 6) breaks new ground by engaging with British composers and their (p. 2). Allis thus expedites canonization of compositions of Hubert Parry, Charles Villiers Stanford, Granville Bantock, and Edward Elgar, whose text settings, collaborations, and programmatic compositions are explored in five main chapters of this book. Allis states that literary perspective is adopted a 'way in' to appreciating selected late nineteenth-century British composers and their (p. 3). His other purpose is to elucidate modern reception of musical-literary connections he proposes.The scholarly erudition of this book is unimpeachable, and Allis's voracity is expressed through long, indented quotations whose frequency is almost excessive. With their frequent subheadings, chapters' interiors can be discursive; enriching as many of digressions are, some, like background on Elgar and Ernest Newman (pp. 200-5) and discussion about Straussian parallels of In South (pp. 249-52), call for compression or even excision. The density is leavened by lucidity of Allis's prose and frequency of both musical and tabular examples.Chapter 1 chronicles collaboration between Parry and Robert Bridges (1844-1930) on Invocation to Music (1895). Allis partly attributes disagreements, and Bridges' ultimate disillusionment and publication of an alternative version of poem in 1896, to misgivings about Parry's declamatory approach to text setting. Instructively, Allis includes Gustav Holst's setting of 1896 Invocation text to represent Bridges' favored approach.In Chapter 2, Allis surveys Stanford's numerous Tennysonian works and includes some fascinating evidence of manner of reciting his own poetry: figure 2.1 (pp. 68-71) shows Parry's transcription of recitation of Choric Song from The Lotus-Eaters, on which pauses, breaths, and vocal intonations are annotated. The discussion of Stanford's Symphony No. 2 in D minor, subtitled Elegiac and prefaced by section 70 from In Memoriam, is undermined by flimsy parallels between music and text that epitomize hazards of speculative or unsolicited musical-literary connections. Allis likens the stuttering rhythmic dislocation that introduces second idea of Stan - ford's first movement to Tennyson's ocular uncertainty (p. 118), expressed through haunting images such as hollow masks of night, Cloud-towers, and shadowy thoroughfares of thought. These images seem several worlds away from Stanford's jaunty thematic preparation, whose sforzando diminished sevenths are jocular, not phantasmagoric. More outlandish still is suggestion that concatenation of images had any bearing on Stanford's slow movement, in which the cello solo in bar 64 and the agitated viola repetitions in bar 128 (pp. 118-19) little more consternation within pastoral idyll than a fence post or a nettle.Chapter 3 attracts particular curiosity because of unfamiliarity of its musical repertory: songs by Bantock, followed by Fifine at Fair, a substantial orchestral work based on a dramatic monologue by Robert Browning (1812-89). Allis counteracts allegations of non-specificity of musical portrayal in Fifine with a closer reading of music that an awareness of Browning's poem might generate (p. 134). Allis's detailed mapping of musical representation onto text is informed by dynamic relationships that inhere in any dramatic monolog between speaker and poet, and between speaker and reader: Bantock's Fifine can be seen as an effective exploration of speaker-narrator's voice, relationship between speaker and his character/ auditors, and specific poetic imagery (p. …

Allover Method and Holism in Morton Feldman's Graphs

ALLOVER METHOD AND HOLISM IN MORTON FELDMAN’S GRAPHS DAVID CLINE THE ALLOVER METHOD N HIS 1981 ESSAY “CRIPPLED SYMMETRY,” Feldman looked back on his early works on graph paper and suggested a parallel between the method he had used in composing them and Jackson Pollock’s method of painting: I realize now how much the musical ideas I had in 1951 paralleled his mode of working. Pollock placed his canvas on the ground and painted as he walked around it. I put sheets of graph paper on the wall; each sheet framed the same time duration and was, in effect, a visual rhythmic structure. What resembled Pollock was my “allover” approach to the time-canvas. Rather than the usual leftto -right passage across the page, the horizontal squares of the I Allover Method and Holism in Morton Feldman's Graphs 57 graph paper represented the tempo—with each box equal to a preestablished ictus; and the vertical squares were the instrumentation of the composition.1 In this passage, Feldman drew attention to an aspect of his own technique that he referred to as “allover.” This term is typically used by art critics to refer to the absence of identifiable points of emphasis in some paintings, including many of Pollock’s most famous works.2 However, Feldman was evidently alluding to an aspect of Pollock’s method and not to a property of the paintings that he produced. What he seems to have had in mind was Pollock’s tendency from the mid-forties onwards to roam freely around, over, and occasionally on his canvases, which were placed on the floor, as he painted.3 In describing his own compositional technique in the graphs as allover, I believe that Feldman was alluding to the fact that their gridbased structure—which he predefined—gave him greater freedom of movement within the score, when composing, than was normally available when working with more conventional notation at that time. For example, in one place, he referred to his ability to carry out what he called a “retrograde of action” in the graphs,4 and by this he probably meant an ability to move right to left on the page during the compositional process. Before the advent of computer technology, this mobility was more difficult to achieve using conventional notation as its bar-based structure was not typically predefined, meaning that the pattern of notes tended to be built up, from left to right across the page, in the order in which the notes were to be played. I believe that the ability to carry out a retrograde of action was only one aspect of the allover approach that Feldman nurtured in his earliest graphs and which eventually gave him total mobility along the horizontal and vertical axes of his grids. Once perfected, this approach allowed him to drop symbols in any order, anywhere in the grid or grids on which he was working, with each symbol selected, from the first to the last, capable of being placed in any previously unoccupied location. The opening of Projection 1 for solo cello, Feldman’s first surviving graph, dated 1950, is shown in Example 1. Three kinds of sound are specified—harmonic (“◊”), pizzicato (“P”), and arco (“A”)—and, in each case, the presence of a sound is indicated by a square or rectangular symbol in a horizontal line of boxes. Register is given as “high,” “middle,” or “low” by the vertical position of the symbol within its line of boxes whereas the onset, duration, and end point of the sound are indicated by the location of the symbol relative to the horizontal axis and the symbol’s width, with the width of each box set 58 Perspectives of New Music equal to four ictuses at 72 ictuses per minute “or thereabouts.” Each line of boxes is incomplete, but the internal organization of each line and their juxtaposition against one another implies that complete lines are implicitly present. This notation is underpinned by a grid of squares that is invisible in the published edition of the score—from which Example 1 is taken— but which informs what is visible on each page. This is the grid of...

Effect of instruction in appropriate rubato usage on performances of Mozart and Bach: Replication and extension

The purpose of this study was to investigate how instruction in the use of rhythmic nuances influences subsequent timings of a musical performance. Volunteer participants were asked to listen to and alter a performance of an excerpt from Mozart’s Concerto for Horn and Orchestra No. 2 and Bach’s Suite Number 3 for Violoncello solo, Bourrèe Number 1. They used recently-developed software that allowed them to control the rhythmic timing of each of the performances without changing any other musical attribute. Forty music majors served as participants for both excerpts in a counter-balanced design. When, after practice, participants generated a performance with which they were pleased, it was saved as a pretest. Students in the treatment group for each piece were taught the rhythmic tendencies that have been identified in the finest performances of these excerpts and practiced them until they felt they were prepared to make a second recording, which was saved as the posttest. Control participants were instructed simply to practice more and to make another, better recording. All note onset data were calculated and analyzed to determine if the experimental groups had successfully integrated the given rhythmic tendencies into their performances. Results indicated that students in the experimental groups did indeed more closely reflect the model professional performances in their posttest performances of both experiments.

Variety in Performance: A comparative Analysis of Recorded Performances of Bach's Sixth Suite for Solo Cello from 1961 to 1998

There exists a commonly held belief amongst musicologists that there has been a ―general globalisation of styles‖ within recorded performances of the latter half of the twentieth century. For many, this is evidenced by an increased interaction between mainstream (MS) and historically informed performance (HIP) practices as well as a general decrease in the diversity of performances. Through a comparative aural and software-assisted analysis and measurement of performance features such as tempo, rhythmic flexibility, vibrato, portamento, bowing, and articulation in key interpretations of Bach's Suite No. 6 for Solo Cello recorded in between 1961 and 1998, this study investigates the relationship between MS and HIP performances in the latter half of the 20 th century. By limiting analyses to those performers who have made two recordings during the designated period (Tortelier, Starker, Bylsma, Ma, Wispelwey), it has been possible to identify overarching trends and individual differences. These have been examined with reference to their broader social and cultural context in order to test commonly held musicological assumptions about the modernist and postmodernist foundations of performances from this era. The results indicate that by the 1990s increased interaction between MS and HIP practices has resulted in a wider variety of differing performances and that this can be seen to be symptomatic of the postmodern condition that has become prevalent since the last decade of the 20 th century.

Unaccompanied Bach: performing the solo works

This pioneering book by an acclaimed expert is the first to discuss all of Bach's unaccompanied pieces in one volume, including an examination of crucial issues of style and composition type and the options open to interpretation and performance. David Ledbetter, a leading expert on Bach, provides the historical background to Bach's instrumental works, as well as detailed commentaries on each work. Ledbetter argues that Bach's unaccompanied works--the six suites for solo cello, six sonatas and partitas for solo violin, seven works for lute, and the suite for solo flute--should be considered together to enable one piece to elucidate another. This illuminating and significant book is essential for professionals, performers, students, or anybody who wishes to learn more about Bach's music.

Dance and Its Importance in Bach’s Suites for Solo Cello

Before J. S. Bach, the cello was rarely used as a solo instrument. With his suites for solo cello, however, Bach took the instrument out of the background of dance accompaniment and basso continuo, and placed it on the center stage for musical audiences. He accomplished this by using dance movements, a style in which the cello was already a familiar accompanying instrument. The forms of these dance movements were also used in such a way as to uniquely express the cello’s potential as a solo instrument. Ultimately, it was these suites that would inspire other composers to write solo works for the cello. By looking to the past, Bach created a work that looked to the future. This paper explores the musical elements in this work that contribute to their lasting influence.

Preparing for memorized cello performance: the role of performance cues

An experienced cello soloist recorded her practice as she learned and memorized the Prelude from J.S. Bach’s Suite No. 6 for solo cello and gave 10 public performances over a period of more than three years. She described the musical structure, decisions about basic technique (e.g., bowing), interpretation (e.g., dynamics), and five kinds of performance cues she attended to during performance (expressive, interpretive, intonation, and basic technique separately for left and right hand). The 38 hours of practice provide the most comprehensive empirical account to date of preparation of a new piece of music for performance. The cellist repeatedly took the piece apart section-by-section and then re-integrated the sections into practice performances in each of five stages: exploration, smoothing out, listening, reworking and preparation for performance. The location of starts, stops and repetitions identified the changing focus of practice in each stage. The cellist organized her practice around the musical structure, developed interpretation before working on technique and practised memory retrieval at each stage. When she wrote out the score from memory, better recall of expressive and structural performance cues showed that they served as landmarks in a hierarchical memory retrieval organization.

Compositional Parameters: "Projection 4" and an Analytical Methodology for Morton Feldman's Graphic Works

Compositional Parameters: Projection 4 and an Analytical Methodology for Morton Feldman's Graphic Works 1 Ryan Vigil The revolutionary moment in Morton Feldman's development can be traced to the composition of Projection i, for solo cello, in 1950. Written in a graphic styleof notation, Projection I is specificwith regard to timbre, and rhythm, but general with regard to pitch. The piece carries no dynamic indications, leaving this element of themusic entirely undetermined. As can be seen in Example 1,which reproduces the first page of Projection i, Feldman's notation of pitch reduces the options to three categories: high, middle, and low.Within these ranges, the limits of which "may be freely chosen by the player," any tone may be sounded.1 The significance of this approach in the context of the compositional picture in 1950 can hardly be overstated. At a timewhen 234 PerspectivesofNew Music many composers chose to exert more and more control, devising methods of composition whereby every aspect of the work was thoroughly under their command?or, at least, largely determined by an overarching compositional system?Feldman employed a procedure wherein he had lessdirect control over themusic. Composed between 1950 and 1951, the Projection series represents Feldman's firsteffortswithin this new compositional orientation. Later graph pieces include the Intersection series (1951-53), Altantis (1959) for orchestra, The Straits of Magellan (1961) for flute, horn, trumpet, harp, electric guitar, piano, and double bass, and The King of Denmark (1964) for solo percussion. Throughout this period Feldman continued to write pieces with a traditional approach to notation; yet, while he later expressed misgivings about certain aspects of the graphic approach, the fact that he continued towrite graph pieces for nearly fifteenyears after his firstexperiments with the idiom indicates that he continued to see the graph as a viable and significant compositional tool.2 In addition to Projection i, the Projection series includes Projection 2 (January 3, 1951), for flute, trumpet, piano, violin, and cello; Projection 3 (January 5, 1951), for two pianos; Projection 4 (January 16, 1951), for violin and piano; and Projection 5 (dated simply 1951), for three flutes, trumpet, two pianos, and three cellos. The predilection for piano and cello is clear?the former appears in all but the firstpiece, and the latter is featured in three out of the five. Projection 2 and Projection 5 are scored for the largest ensembles (made up of five and nine players, respectively); Projection 3 and Projection 4 are duets. Each piece in the series presents a unique instrumentation. Not only do all fivepieces use a different assortment of instruments, but each one embodies a different "type" of ensemble: Projection 1 is the only solo piece in the set; Projection 2 is scored for amedium-sized ensemble where no instrument is present more than once; Projection 3 is a duet for two identical instruments; Projection 4 is a duet for two different instruments; Projection 5 is for the largest ensemble and includes multiple parts for flute,piano, and cello (including three parts for both flute and cello). It appears as ifFeldman is testing the graphic approach to see if it can accommodate these very different combinations. But it is clear that the goal isnot sheer variety?in fact, the number of different instruments he uses is rather small.While the various combinations do seem to ensure that the series, taken as a whole, inhabits a range of different timbral regions and various types of musical space (from solo instrument to nine-piece chamber ensemble), Feldman seems concerned that the music not get too far away from itself. In this sense, the only piece whose instrumentation cannot be explicitly linked to all of the others is Projection i, since it is the only solo piece, and itdoes not include piano. PHOJtCJtONl n o3 pT~d p~1 !M ! I r?-i r~B I i_"_q _s L_i... xu p-CLJ a !j| *L_i b_I L_a.ia. s EXAMPLE 1: PROJECTION i, PAGE 1 uj 236 PerspectivesofNew Music In general, the notational approach remains consistent throughout the series. Each instrument reads a line ofmusic that proceeds from left to right through a series of equal-sized rectangles; each rectangle...

Low-frequency response in active acoustic practice rooms

Integrating active (virtual) acoustics into relatively small practice rooms to create a sense of envelopment is critical to the satisfaction of the musicians using these spaces for learning. The number of speakers and their locations play an important role in minimizing the ability to localize to the sources supporting this sense of envelopment. Equally important is the frequency response required for the speakers used in these applications, to more accurately simulate the acoustics of a performance environment. Excessive high frequencies increase the ability to localize and decrease the sensation of a larger space, since the air in larger spaces naturally absorbs many high frequencies. Another challenge is creating the sense of envelopment for instruments in the bass region (125Hz octave band and below) by providing enough low-frequency energy response. Work will be presented on low-frequency response desired to satisfy a sampling of solo cello players using active acoustic practice rooms. The optimal sources for these low frequencies - single or multiple - will be discussed. Updated information will also be provided on the sound field coverage in active rooms with extended low-frequency response.

Further reviews

SESSIONS: String Quintet; Canons (to the memory of Stravinsky); 6 Pieces for solo cello; String Quartet No 1 in E minor. The Group for Contemporary Music. Naxos 8.559261.

Disruptive Spatiality and the Experience of Recordings of Bach's Solo Cello Suites

Antechamber: Bach and Space Architecture, so the saying goes, is frozen music. Music, conversely, is liquid architecture. (1) This aphorism, popular in the early nineteenth century, soon became a cliche. Should one perhaps speak of ruins, quips Schopenhauer in 1844, a 'frozen cadenza'? ([1819/44] 1977:534). However maligned, though, the cliche persists in Bach studies. It is still commonplace to speak of the of Bach's music (Wolff 1969; Schulenberg 1992; Corten 1995), and even the composer himself has been labeled an architect (Joseph 1992). The very structures of this music, are frequently told, are architectonic. While discourse on Bach has tended to adopt this architectural metaphor as an unquestioned, and at times tacit, assumption, there is little evidence to suggest that his music corresponds with any degree of precision to concrete examples of architectural theory or practice. Nor have commentators drawn consistent parallels between Bach's music and any one architectural style, let alone a single historical period. The analogy between high Gothic architecture and Bach's counterpoint was common in the first half of the nineteenth century, and articles and books on Bach continue to be peppered with pictures of Gothic cathedrals. Other commentators, however, claim to detect stylistic parallels with the architecture of Baroque Rome: Raymond Court, for instance, writes that we place the music of J. S. Bach opposite this grand Baroque architecture of papal Rome as in a mirror in to discover analogous stylistic traits (1989:15). It is easy to see how images of tall Gothic spires, lofty vaults, and slender columns summon up a widespread--and often explicitly theological--image of Bach. Yet most detailed and concrete attempts to unearth an architectural principle behind the music evoke the ideals prized by Renaissance architects of exact proportion, suitable disposition, and harmonious order rather than the asymmetrical excess of the Baroque (Joseph 1992:83). As commentators track symmetries and reveal the elegant proportions of Bach's forms, their analytical diagrams begin to look like blueprints, such as Wolff's (figure 1). [FIGURE 1 OMITTED] Analyses which claim to detect an architectonic structure in Bach's music usually aim to elucidate geometrical designs and numerically conceived hierarchies and patterns. When Ulrich Siegele asserts, for example, that the formal dispositions of Bach's concerto movements reveal a marked tendency towards proportional shaping (1997), he subscribes to a long-standing analytical paradigm which has tended to dominate literature on Bach, especially in studies of his ritornello forms. There is also widespread support for the idea that Bach demonstrates a strong interest in symmetrical design in certain passages of his large-scale choral works, including, for instance, the Symbolum Nicenum of the B Minor Mass (e.g., Butt 1991 and Stauffer 1997). Eduard van Hengel and Kees van Houten (2004), for example, rely on considerations of symmetry to argue that, contrary to established scholarly opinion, the Et incarnatus had been planned from the outset. (2) They suggest that a quick look at the facades of Baroque and Classical palaces, churches, residences, and other large, multisectional buildings would corroborate their claims (2004:93). In short, to liken Bach's music to architecture is to say that its structure exhibits some kind of symmetry or that its formal arrangement is governed by proportions. Because the analogy between musical structure and architectural design hinges on the mathematical principles and ratios which are said to underpin both, it is, unsurprisingly, often closely associated with numerological analysis. Much doubt, however, has been cast upon the interpretative value of readings which center around number symbolism, as well as their historical validity as a guide to pre-compositional thinking. …

Effect of Rubato Magnitude on the Perception of Musicianship in Musical Performance

The purpose of this study was to examine the effect of changing the magnitude of rubato in a musical performance on the perceived musicianship inherent in a music performance. Subjects listened six times to the first phrase of Bach's Suite Number 3 for Violoncello solo, Bourrée Number 1. Each performance of that phrase was altered such that the magnitude of the rubato was varied. The model performance was created from timings found in previous research. The varied levels of rubato ranged from a metronomically straight performance to one in which the timing variations were exaggerated to four times that of the original model. Results indicated that the previously asserted model level of rubato was found to be the most musical, while the next two levels of more rubato were found to be only slightly less musical. The two examples with less rubato than the model, and the example with the most exaggerated rubato were all found to be significantly less musical than the model. These results seem to indicate that a performance without rubato is not perceived to be as musical as one with appropriate variations in timing. It also seems that as long as these variations are within a similar temporal flow, the music can accommodate as much as twice as much variation as was found in the model. This finding reflects a rather wide range in magnitude, leading to the conclusion that perhaps the flow of the performance is more crucial than the specific timing in milliseconds.