STRAVINSKY. THE RITE OF SPRING

Stravinsky's life was a varied one, and his music went through several changes, often startling at the time but revealing an inner consistency when viewed with hindsight.* His early years, from 1882 to 1910, found Stravinsky in Russia, absorbing influences from his el­der compatriots and others. The years 1910-14 saw the beginning of his international career, with Diaghilev's Ballets Russes in Paris, and the premieres of The Firebird, Petrushka and The Rite of Spring. Then, between 1914 and 1920, he made his home in Switzerland, his exile becoming permanent after the Russian Revolution, though the connection with his homeland continued in his works. The period from 1920 to 1939, which he spent in France, was that of the great neoclassical compositions, reactivating the modes and manners of the 18th century. This stylistic inclination persisted in the earlier part of his American residence (1939-52), gradually giving way to a highly individual use of serial techniques* in his last years.

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Throughout history, there have been intermittent attempts to tame what many have called "primitive" and "uninhibited" rhythm. Nowhere has this been more evident than in the Western world. As Christianity turned away from the rites of ancient religions, European culture festered the negative image of rhythmic intoxication through music and dance. An interesting long-term phenomenon is the way this suppressed rhythmic impulse seems to erupt periodically into the social fabric. One example is the dance of death craze in the Mid­dle Ages. The sight of a wild, delirious mob dancing in the streets for days in an attempt to ward off the plague is not an image that sits well with traditional notions of civilization.

Although it adapted many dance rhythms, "serious" European music virtually abandoned the uninhibited body rhythms of the ar­chaic past. European composers sought more restrained, "refined" rhythmic styles. One might consider the minuet the ultimate example of this more "refined" rhythm and movement. (Here we encounter the word "refined" in a socio-cultural context where subdued, styl­ized, and controlled body movements are primary components.) It is

not until the Romantic era that some of this primitive rhythmic im­pulse returns to "serious" music, perhaps taking its cue from the cultural pounding that Beethoven's rhythms had released into the world. The twentieth century is the era in which this impulse has reasserted itself, full-bodied and in many guises. In 1913, it reap­peared in all its shocking glory in Igor Stravinsky's ballet music The Rite of Spring.

Composed for a Russian ballet company active in Paris early in the century, it was an exotic expression of Russian nationalism through music, dance, and primitive theme. Stravinsky described his vision later in these words:

"I saw in imagination a solemn pagan rite: sage elders, seated in a circle, watched a young girl dance herself to death. They were sacrificing her to propitiate the god of spring."

In The Rite of Spring, Stravinsky expanded the traditional sense of harmony, rhythm, melody, and tonality into a distinctive musical language that sounds simultaneously modern and archaic. The man­ner in which this is done defies simple description, but we may cite a few of the elements that reflect Stravinsky's genius:

Texture: As in Debussy's music, texture plays a vital role in the Stravinsky sound. His textures, like Debussy's, are continuously changing. Melodies appear and disappear. Deceptively simple chord patterns* begin suddenly, as do melodic fragments and phrases, only to end unexpectedly. A basically homophonic texture may be trans­formed quickly into a dense contrapuntal display. All of these pro­cedures are given life by a dazzling use of orchestral sound. Instru­ments often play in their most extreme registers to obtain new and exotic effects. Although we are describing elements of the texture as isolated entities, any of these considered separately from the com­plete sound mass rarely retains any essential quality of the work. To illustrate this point, we have only to compare The Rite with a typi­cal Classical symphony. If you sing or hum the main theme of Mozart's Fortieth Symphony, something quite essential of the spirit and meaning of the work will survive. This is not true of The Rite. Any isolated theme from the piece (with the notable exception of the opening solo) conveys little by itself. This speaks to one of the essential trends of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries: the growing position of texture and timbre* as a primary focus of the compositional process.

Rhythm: At the basis of a Stravinsky texture are unique combi­nations of rhythms. Perhaps the most startling rhythmic textures of The Rite are the jagged synchronizations of irregular patterns* which repeat incessantly, starting and ending with abrupt precision. These rhythms, both primitive in their forcefulness and modern in their so­phisticated logical interplay, encode a special moment of musical-cultural history that has never been duplicated.

Harmony: The Rite of Spring is legendary for its "emancipation

of dissonance", especially those famous chords that begin the Dance of Adolescents. However, the real impact of this dissonance is de­rived from the rhythmic setting, which suggests once again that no musical element may be isolated from its rhythmic identity.* It is the forceful repetition of Stravinsky's dissonance that creates this powerful impact. Dissonance not only remains unresolved, it often merges into a sort of megaconsonance* through continued imprinting

into the senses.

In The Rite, Stravinsky did not abandon tonality, he redefined and enlarged its potential. In fact, he returned to one of the most ancient tonal practices: tonality by assertion. Throughout the work, tonal centers are often created through obstinate repetition of ostinatos and melodies. Another harmonic characteristic of The Rite is polytonality - simply, the sounding of melodies in two or more tonalities at the same time.

Melody: The melodic material of The Rite is either drawn from actual folk songs or deliberately created in folk style. In addition to these melodies, which comprise the main threads of the work, there are many thematic fragments typically twentieth-century in style, with their complex rhythms and jagged intervals. The two types of melodies complement each other in a remarkable synthesis.

While texture, rhythm, harmony and melody have been discussed as if they were separate entities, it must be pointed out, as always, that these elements are not isolated from one another; they grow organically from one potent impulse that bonds them together in a powerful union.

From: Music: A Living Language by T. Manoff

ELECTRONIC MUSIC

Conversations with Igor Stravinsky

ROBERT CRAFT*. Do you have an opinion about electronic music?

IGOR STRAVINSKY. I think that the matiere* is limited; more exactly, the composers have demonstrated but a very limited matiere in all the examples of "electronic music" I have heard. This is surprising because the possibilities as we know are astronomical. An­other criticism I have is that the shortest pieces of "electronic mu­sic" seem endless and within those pieces we feel no time control.

Therefore the amount of repetition, imaginary or real, is exces­sive.

Electronic composers are making a mistake, in my opinion, when they continue to employ significative noises in the manner of musique concrete.* In Stockhausen's Gesang der Junglinge,* a work manifesting a strong personality and an indigenous feeling for the medium, I like the way the sound descends as though from auras, but the burbling fade-out noises and especially the organ are, I find,

incongruous elements. Noises can be music of course, but they ought not to be singificative; music itself does not signify anything.

What interests me most in "electronic music" so far is the nota­tion, the "score".

R.C. In the music of Stockhausen and others of his generation the elements of pitch, density, dynamics, duration, frequency (register), rhythm, timbre have been subjected to the serial variation principle. How will the non-serial element of "surprise" be intro­duced in the fight planning of this music?

I.S. The problem that now besets the totalitarian serialist is how to compose "surprise" since by electronic computer it doesn't exist (though in fact it does, even if every case is computable; even at its worst, we listen to music as music and not as a computing game). Some composers are inclined to turn the problem over to the per­former - as Stockhausen does in his Piano Piece No. XI. I myself am inclined to leave very little to the performers. I would not give them margin to play only half or selected fragments of my pieces. Also, I think it inconsistent to have controlled everything so minutely and then leave the ultimate shape of the piece to a performer (while pretending that all possible shapes have been allowed for).

R.C. Do you think there is a danger at present of novelty for its own sake?

I.S. Not really. Nevertheless, certain festivals of contemporary music by their very nature cannot help but encourage mere novelty. And, by a curious reversal of tradition, some critics encourage it too. The classic situation in which conservative and academic critics de­ride the composer's innovations is no more. Now composers can hardly keep up with the demands of some critics to "make it new". Novelties sometimes result that could not interest anyone twice. I am more cautious of the power of the acclaimers than of the dis­claimers, of those critics who hail on principle what they cannot pos­sibly contact directly with their own ears or understanding.* This is musical politics, not music. Critics, likе composers, must know what they love. Anything else is pose and propaganda, or what D.H. Lawrence called "would-be".

September-December 1957 From: Conversations with Igor Stravinsky

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 1479