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Performance practice considerations in Schönberg's Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23 Bagan, Christopher Bagan 2012

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PERFORMANCE PRACTICE CONSIDERATIONS IN SCHÖNBERG’S FÜNF KLAVIERSTÜCKE, OP. 23 by CHRISTOPHER DANIEL BAGAN M.Mus., The University of Toronto, 2006 B.Mus., The University of Toronto, 2004  A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF  DOCTOR OF MUSICAL ARTS in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)  December 2012 © Christopher Daniel Bagan, 2012  Abstract The Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23 (1923) of Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951) exemplify an important development in his compositional style, as the free atonality of the 1910s gives way to transformations of ordered pitch-class sets and the development of the 12-tone method. The academic discourse on Schoenberg’s Op. 23 has largely concentrated on details of compositional technique, while comparatively little has been written on the actual performance of these pieces and their valued contribution to piano literature. In Op. 23, Schoenberg develops and refines a scrupulously detailed approach to notation, covering the score with an unprecedented number of performance markings. While many of these symbols are conventional, their sheer number and the complexity of their interaction require detailed investigation if Schoenberg’s intentions are to be understood and realized. I posit that Schoenberg recognizes the limitations of notation, using it more as a descriptive rather than prescriptive medium, and allowing for contextual rather than absolute interpretation. Through this approach I have developed three functional categories for markings found in Op. 23: comparative, reinforcing, and prescriptive. Comparative markings are Schoenberg’s essential and flexible vocabulary for describing in notation the defining features that should be perceived in the presentation and interaction of the musical ideas. Reinforcing markings visually assist the comprehension of musical ideas by confirming their intuitive interpretation. Only the remaining few markings fall into the category of prescriptive markings, reserved for those with little or no room for variance.  ii  The first two chapters of this study of the notation and performance of Op. 23 develop these categories alongside the few interpretive suggestions provided by Schoenberg himself. Chapters 3 and 4 explore performance considerations in Op. 23 regarding fingering, pedaling, and the shaping of tactile and temporal aspects. Chapter 5 combines all these aspects in a case study of Op. 23/2, showing how they function together in the performance and interpretation of a complete piece.  iii  Table of Contents Abstract .................................................................................................................... ii Table of Contents .................................................................................................... iv List of Figures ........................................................................................................... v List of Examples ...................................................................................................... vi Acknowledgements ................................................................................................ vii Dedication ............................................................................................................. viii Chapter 1. Introduction and Review of Literature................................................... 1 Schoenberg's Piano Music .................................................................................... 1 Literature Review ................................................................................................. 3 Outline of Document ............................................................................................ 9 Chapter 2. Understanding and Interpreting the Notation .................................... 14 Articulation and Slurs ........................................................................................ 22 ‘Impossible’ Markings ........................................................................................ 34 Arpeggiated Chords ............................................................................................ 36 Trills and Appoggiaturas .................................................................................... 43 Chapter 3. Shaping Tactility: Pedaling and Fingering .......................................... 50 Integrated Fingering Solutions .......................................................................... 61 Chapter 4. Shaping Temporality ............................................................................ 77 Accentuation Markings ...................................................................................... 78 Caret Accents ...................................................................................................... 82 Metronome Markings ......................................................................................... 85 Chapter 5. Case Study of Op. 23/2 ......................................................................... 91 Measures 1-6 ....................................................................................................... 92 Measures 7-9......................................................................................................101 Measures 10-14 ..................................................................................................110 Measures 14-23 .................................................................................................. 114 Tempo ................................................................................................................ 116 Form ................................................................................................................. 120 Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 124 Works Cited .......................................................................................................... 128  iv  List of Figures Figure 2-1 – Op. 23 Preface, Wilhelm Hansen Edition, original German ............ 18 Figure 2-2 – Op. 23 Preface, Wilhelm Hansen Edition, English translation ....... 18 Figure 2-3 – Op. 23 Preface, Wiener Urtext Edition, English translation ............ 19 Figure 2-4 – Explanatory notes to Piano Concerto, Op. 42 .................................. 21  v  List of Examples Example 2.1 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 44-60 ................................................ 25 Example 2.2 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm 1-4 ...................................................... 32 Example 2.3 – D'Anglebert Ornament Table. Arpeggiated Chords ...................... 37 Example 2.4 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, mm. 4-5 .................................................... 38 Example 2.5 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, m. 17 (with upbeat) .................................. 39 Example 2.6 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, m. 22 ......................................................... 40 Example 2.7 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 19-21 ................................................. 41 Example 2.8 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 23 & 25 ............................................. 42 Example 2.9 – Schoenberg, Op. 11/2, mm. 44-47 ................................................. 44 Example 2.10 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 15-17................................................ 46 Example 2.11 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, mm. 1-2 ................................................... 46 Example 2.12 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/2, mm. 4-5................................................... 47 Example 2.13 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 86-88 (downbeat) .......................... 48 Example 3.1 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, mm. 6-7 ..................................................... 58 Example 3.2 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, m. 25 ......................................................... 60 Example 3.3 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 4-5 ..................................................... 62 Example 3.4 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 21 (end) - 22 ..................................... 65 Example 3.5 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 34-35 ................................................. 66 Example 3.6 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, m. 5 ........................................................... 67 Example 3.7 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, m. 10 .......................................................... 68 Example 3.8 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, mm. 14-15 ................................................. 70 Example 3.9 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, m. 25 ......................................................... 72 Example 3.10 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, m. 20 ....................................................... 73 Example 4.1 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, mm. 1-2 (beginning) ................................. 79 Example 4.2 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, opening realigned to notated beats .........80 Example 4.3 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 8-10................................................... 84 Example 4.4 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 20-21................................................. 88 Example 4.5 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 66-68 ................................................ 89 Example 5.1 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/2, mm. 3-4, original sketch version .............. 96 Example 5.2 – Chopin, Etude Op. 10/4, opening .................................................. 97 Example 5.3 – Schumann, Kreisleriana Op. 16/7, mm. 67-72 .............................. 97 Example 5.4 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/2, m. 7 ......................................................... 102 Example 5.5 – Schumann, Carnaval, Op. 9, ‘Paganini’, mm. 35-37 ................... 103 Example 5.6 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/2, m. 7 (sketch version) .............................. 104 Example 5.7 – Schumann, Kreisleriana, Op. 9/1, mm. 30-41 .............................. 113  vi  Acknowledgements I am extremely grateful to all those who have helped me to formulate and refine the ideas presented in this paper, particularly the members of my advising committee. I wish to thank Dr. Richard Kurth for his detailed dialogue as the work developed, his many suggestions, careful editing, and for his unending enthusiasm for the music of Schoenberg. I would also like to thank my supervisor and piano teacher Jane Coop for her generous mentorship, wisdom and dedication through my DMA and for helping to kindle my own enthusiasm for Schoenberg, encouraging me to further pursue performing and writing about his piano music. I would also like to thank the Banff Centre and its director, Henk Guittart. The initial research for this document as well as the preparation of several performances of Schoenberg’s piano music and a lecturerecital on Op. 23 were undertaken with the use of the incredible resources of the Fall and Winter Residency programs at the centre, including its extensive library collection, practice and concert spaces. Henk Guittart, with his many years of experience performing and coaching Schoenberg’s music, was an invaluable resource for developing and informing my own interpretations of this music. Lastly, I would thank David Pay, artistic director of the Music on Main concert series in Vancouver for presenting my first recital of the complete piano works of Schoenberg in their 2011-12 concert series, an opportunity that greatly increased my love and enthusiasm for this music. The generous response of the sold-out audience that evening provided significant encouragement that I was on the right track. Examples from Schoenberg Op. 10 and 42 used by permission of Belmont Music Publishing.  vii  Dedication I would like to dedicate this paper to my family. My wonderful wife Charissa has heard every idea in this paper, every version of the lecture and every note of Schoenberg’s piano music. She has given significant support as I prepared this document and throughout my academic career thus far, always ready and willing to give intelligent advice and suggestions. My parents have also provided generous assistance throughout the long period of post-secondary education, and my father (a writer) provided daily encouragement as I worked on the draft of this paper.  viii  Chapter 1. Introduction and Review of Literature Schoenberg's Piano Music Schoenberg's output of solo piano music chronicles an important chapter in the history of twentieth-century piano composition. The academic discourse on this music has been dominated largely by its role in pioneering many of Schoenberg’s most important compositional developments. This has been at the expense of fully recognizing their considerable value as contributions to the piano literature and innovations in piano technique. While Schoenberg’s earliest solo piano works, the Drei Klavierstücke (1894) rely heavily on 19th century textures and techniques of harmonic figuration, his everchanging compositional language as he progresses to maturity is increasingly at odds with the possibilities offered by these models. Beginning with his earliest set of published piano works, the Drei Klavierstücke, Op.11 (1909), Schoenberg begins to make unique technical and expressive demands on the performer. His central concern for “presenting emotions, ideas and other feelings”1 through novel compositional means parallels a similarly new and fresh approach to piano writing. The keyboard techniques, if they can be said to have models, often draw more from the 18th century than the 19th century, as the compositional syntax becomes  1  Schönberg, Arnold, video interview, “Der Maler Arnold Schönberg,” (1949) on the Arnold Schönberg Center YouTube channel at http://www.youtube.com/user/ascvideo (Accessed 09.25.2012).  1  increasingly polyphonic, reaching a state of near-complete autonomy from Romantic models in the Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23 (1923) and the Suite, Op. 25 (1923). These two works share a closer kinship than the others in Schoenberg’s oeuvre, a fact not surprising considering their closely overlapping compositional chronology. In these two works, new methods of organizing pitch content and compositional structure appear alongside innovative approaches to piano texture and a highly refined and detailed approach to notation. It is in these pieces that many of the pianistic demands go beyond those of the central piano repertoire. Detailed study must inform the interpretation of these works in order to understand and remain faithful to the concept and intentions of the composer. In addition, the unfamiliar technical footing along with the astonishing complexity of the notation requires considerable open-mindedness and effort on the part of the pianist to develop the requisite capabilities. How do we begin to acquire this new expressive and technical palette? What informs our interpretive decisions as we prepare this music? What strategies can we employ to structure our interpretation with the aims of comprehensibility to a modern listener? While these questions could be applied to each of Schoenberg's works for piano, the continual evolution of his piano style eschews generalizations across the 'opus boundaries', making comprehensive theories of performance practice challenging if not impossible. For this reason I have chosen to base my investigation exclusively on Op. 23 with the  2  intention that the underlying methodology will be similarly applicable to each of the other works as well as the works of his contemporaries. Even considering only this one set of pieces, it is still an impossible task to be comprehensive within the scope of this document. Nevertheless, close study of selected passages will serve to represent the breadth of innovation found in the rest of the work. The ensuing chapters will each examine particular musical and technical elements that inform an interpretation of these pieces, providing a practical guide for performers faced with solving the numerous issues therein.  Literature Review The central source for the formulation of an interpretation of these pieces is obviously the score itself. Close observation and understanding of the symbols and indications provide the most specific and reliable guide to performing this music. The edition of this work published in the complete works collection is currently the most definitive source, especially when paired with the Critical Report volume that accompanies the scores.2 The Critical Report contains all of the associated sketch materials, sources, revisions and corrections, along with a detailed chronology of their composition. The main challenge with this important collection is that it is all  2  Reinhold Brinkmann, ed. Arnold Schoenberg: Werke für Klavier zu zwei Händen: Kritischer Bericht, Skizzen, Fragmente in Schönberg: Sämtliche Werke: Abteilung II, Reihe B, Band 4 (Mainz/Vienna: B. Schott's Söhne/Universal Edition AG, 1975).  3  published exclusively in German, and this may be an impediment for many performers. All of Schoenberg’s piano works with the exception of Op. 23 are published by Wiener Urtext in what would ostensibly be a Complete Piano Works volume, if not for copyright issues with the publication of Op. 23.3 The Wiener Urtext collection of Ausgewählte Klavierwerke [selected piano music] contains a detailed preface by Reinhold Brinkmann outlining the compositional history of the piano works, treating Op. 23 only indirectly as it does not form part of the contents of the volume.4 It also contains a guide to interpretation by Peter Roggenkamp, and both are translated into English. At best, this source is indirectly helpful, demonstrating various performance strategies and ideas, but not directly tackling the issues specific to Op. 23. A recent monograph in German by Jean-Jacques Dünki (2006) called Schönbergs Zeichen [Schoenberg’s markings] deals with interpretation of notational details in Schoenberg’s complete works for piano.5 The outline and scope of this book is similar to the 1986 DMA Dissertation of University of Kansas graduate Katherine  3  All of the rights to Schoenberg’s piano music save for Op. 23 are held by Universal Edition. Wilhelm Hansen retains the rights to Op. 23, and while they allowed its inclusion in the complete works edition, they are the exclusive publishers of the piece outside of this exceptional inclusion. 4 Reinhold Brinkmann, ed., Schönberg: Ausgewählte Klaviermusik (Vienna: Wiener Urtext Edition, 1995). 5 Jean-Jacques Dünki, Schönbergs Zeichen: Wege zur Interpretation seiner Klaviermusik (Vienna: Verlag Lafite, 2006).  4  Petree.6 Dünki and Petree both touch on a variety of topics pertaining to interpretation, but do not provide a detailed treatment of Op. 23, working as they do in more general terms across all the keyboard works. The interpretation of these works requires performers to challenge the inherent assumptions of all notational details, both conventional and nonconventional, as we work to uncover Schoenberg’s intentions and communicate these works to an audience. To best inform these challenges outside of the score itself, we should first turn to the extant primary source literature on these pieces. We are fortunate to have a wealth of writings directly from Schoenberg that treat issues related to performance and provide the most direct and reliable tools for challenging the performer’s intuitions on how these pieces are conceived. Schoenberg’s essays contained in the collection Style and Idea, while treating performance topics only in a very general sense, give a clear indication of the issues and struggles important to Schoenberg as he sought ways to notate and develop his musical ideas.7 His correspondence with piano virtuoso Ferruccio Busoni in the years 1908-1919, while dealing specifically with the three piano pieces Op. 11, highlights the evolving aims of his piano textures and the expression that he sought  6  Katherine Frances Petree, “Performance Practices in the Piano Music of Arnold Schoenberg" (DMA Dissertation, University of Kansas, 1986). 7 Leonard Stein, ed., Style and Idea: Selected Writings of Arnold Schoenberg (London: Faber and Faber, 1984).  5  in those pieces.8 This extensive dialogue as he developed and revised Op. 11 would most definitely have informed his later piano writing. Schoenberg provides an identical preface, included in the separate publications of Opp. 23 and 25 which, while brief, serves as specific interpretive notes for these pieces. These notes were supplemented and clarified in a similar preface 20 years later in the publication of the Piano Concerto, Op. 42 (1942).9 These primary sources are invaluable tools for the interpreter, and we are fortunate to have material directly from Schoenberg as well as from his students and trusted performers including pianists Erwin Stein and Eduard Steuermann.10 In addition to the scholarly literature directed specifically towards performance practice and interpretation issues, there is a large and sophisticated corpus of theoretical and analytical writings on Schoenberg's piano music. To what extent could these sources can be of help to the performer? The primary concern of many of these analytical works has been with pitch materials and their relationships. This work stems largely from the rather abstract, mathematical theories of Allen  8  Antony Beaumont, ed./trans., "The Schoenberg-Busoni Correspondence 1903-1919," in Ferruccio Busoni: Selected Letters (London/Boston: Faber and Faber, 1987), pp. 379-423. 9 Arnold Schoenberg, “Explanatory Notes”, preface to Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, Op. 42 (New York/London: G. Schirmer, 1944). 10 Erwin Stein, “Neue Form-Prinzipien” (1924), translated in Orpheus in New Guises (London: Rockliff, 1953), pp. 55-77. Edward (Eduard) Steuermann, The Not Quite Innocent Bystander: Writings of Edward Steuermann, ed. David Porter, Clara Steuermann and Gunther Schuller; trans. Richard Cornwell and Charles Messner (Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1989).  6  Forte11 and David Lewin12. These works and the scholarship that they have inspired seek to dissect and systematize various modes of atonal and serial composition along with the new formal plans that structure these and similar pieces. Even within this larger body of analytical work, the Op. 23 set of pieces is treated with the least frequency or depth of all the keyboard works. The scholarship on this set is limited to a handful of analytical articles on individual pieces13, as well as brief treatments in larger works discussing Schoenberg’s stylistic development or complete works.14 Only one complete monograph, Kathryn Bailey’s Composing with Tones, treats the complete set in detail.15 While these works occasionally include references specific to performance, these are tangential to their central aims as theoretical and analytical works.  11  Allen Forte, The Structure of Atonal Music (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1973). David Lewin, Generalized Musical Intervals and Transformations (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987). 13 This list includes: Elaine Barkin, “A view of Schoenberg’s Op. 23/1” in Perspectives of New Music, Vol 12, No. 1/2 (Autumn, 1973 – Summer, 1974), pp. 99-127. David Lefkowitz, “Schoenberg and His Op. 23 No. 4: A Functional Analysis” in Music Analysis, Vol. 18, No. 3 (Oct., 1999), pp. 375-380 and “Listening Strategies and Hexachordal Combinatorial 'Functions' in Schoenberg's Op. 23 No. 4” in Music Analysis, Vol. 16, No. 3 (Oct., 1997), pp. 309-348; David Lewin, “Transformational Considerations in Schoenberg’s Op. 23, Number 3” in Music Theory and Mathematics: Chords, Collections and Transformations (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2008), pp. 197-221; Robert Morris, “Modes of Coherence and Continuity in Schoenberg’s Piano Piece Op. 23, No. 1”, in Theory and Practice, Vol 17 (1992). 14 Including: Andreas Bernnat, Arnold Schönberg: Interpretationen seiner Werke (Laaber: LaaberVerlag, 2002). Ethan Haimo, Schoenberg’s Serial Odyssey: The Evolution of his Twelve-Tone Method, 1914-1928 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). Bryan Simms, The Atonal Music of Arnold Schoenberg: 1908-1923 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000). 15 Kathryn Bailey, ‘Composing With Tones’: A Musical Analysis of Schoenberg’s Op. 23 Pieces for Piano (London: Royal Music Association, 2001). 12  7  While these materials often require considerable theoretical knowledge to comprehend, they can point the interpreter in new directions or demonstrate deeply concealed features that would otherwise be missed. Nevertheless, the individual articles are mainly concerned with presenting musically logical analyses based on the relationships of the pitch material in the score. While appreciating the value of such scholarship, Schoenberg himself is quick to qualify its value to performers: You must have gone to a great deal of trouble, and I don’t think I’d have had the patience to do it. But do you think one’s any better off for knowing it? I can’t quite see it that way […] This isn’t where the aesthetic qualities reveal themselves, or, if so, only incidentally. I can’t utter too many warnings against overrating these analyses, since after all they lead only to what I have always been dead against: seeing how it is done; whereas I have always helped people to see: what it is!16  This comes from a letter to Rudolph Kolisch, member of the Kolisch String Quartet, regarding his analysis of Schoenberg’s String Quartet No. 3 (1927). In his essay “On Notation”, Schoenberg asks rhetorically: “What does it all mean to someone who grasps merely the means but not the end that alone sanctifies them?”17 Schoenberg thus cautions against analysis that relies heavily on notation, in particular elements that are seemingly objective and quantitative such as pitch and duration, without synthesizing its findings with the relationships of the actual musical sounds in performance. The process of animation, of breathing life into  16  Arnold Schoenberg, letter to Rudolf Kolisch, 27.07.1932, in Arnold Schoenberg Letters, ed. Erwin Stein, trans. Eithne Wilkins and Ernst Kaiser (London: Faber and Faber, 1964), p. 164 17 Arnold Schoenberg, “On Notation,” in Style and Idea, pp. 375-6.  8  these works in performance is not, as many theorists seem to imply or suggest, selfevident from the results of such dissection. Op. 23 has received some detailed treatment in the analytical discourse, but much less in the performance practice discourse. Generalized treatments of performance issues across the entire body of Schoenberg’s piano works including the contributions of Jean-Jacques Dünki and Katherine Petree only scratch the surface of what is in the five pieces of Op. 23. The uniqueness and complexity of these compositions requires a more detailed treatment in order to adequately illuminate their value and contribution to piano literature. This document serves then as the first exploration of the specific interpretive challenges of these five pieces, developing a working methodology for using the score and primary sources to inform performing decisions.  Outline of Document The main portion of this work is divided into four chapters (Chapters 2 through 5) following this introductory chapter. The focus of Chapter 2 is Schoenberg’s notation and how we as performers can glean his intentions from it. The notation is highly specific, with an unprecedented number of performance indications. The task of performing this piece may at first seem to be a matter of following a detailed and exacting set of instructions, with the detailed notation giving the impression that individual variability and interpretive freedom are considerably  9  restricted. However, Schoenberg is highly aware of the inherent limitations of notation, and is constantly evolving the means of presenting his musical ideas, and actually gives the performer considerable interpretive freedom within the seemingly fixed and rigid appearance of the score. The score is Schoenberg’s primary means of communicating with his performer, and his notation develops an unparalleled level of detail and complexity in his search for notating new sounds, textures and means of expression. I argue that his approach to notation is descriptive rather than prescriptive, allowing the symbols to have meanings that are subjective rather than objective and relative rather than absolute. Certainly Schoenberg requires his performer to approach this music with an extreme level of attention to detail, and is concerned with the execution and balance of the minutest elements in the notation. But equally important is the contribution of a performer’s sincere personal interpretation, which serves to unlock the limitations of notation and to bring the music off the page. Chapter 2 treats in particular detail those notational concerns that were significant enough in Schoenberg’s mind to include in the performance preface to Op. 23. Even the relatively simple clarifications of peculiarities in the notation, such as arpeggiated chords with arrowheads indicating the direction of the arpeggiation, or the execution of trills and appoggiaturas, are full of assumptions and hint at wider interpretational issues, warranting further elucidation in this document.  10  The largest portion of Chapter 2 treats issues of articulation, possibly the most complicated and vital issue for an understanding of Schoenberg’s notation. Understanding Schoenberg’s articulations is not at all a straightforward task in these pieces. Looking at the number of different articulation marks used – over 40 different markings – Schoenberg expects of his pianist a subtly nuanced control of attack and release that is largely without precedent in the literature. In the preface to Op. 23, he lays out a number of idiosyncratic usages and modifications for selected articulation symbols. However, this explication does not touch on the most referential of articulations – that of the unmarked note – nor does it address the majority of the signs as used alone or in combination. My discussion in Chapter 2 will provide evidence that the ‘basic touch’ for Schoenberg’s pieces is non-legato, a sharp contrast from the prevailing legato touch assumed in most 19th century piano writing. From here, it is possible to uncover the relative logic and descriptive consistency in the usage of the various accent and length-modifying symbols and their relation to phrasing and texture. Chapter 2 also treats those markings that represent apparent impossibilities at the piano, furthering the idea that Schoenberg’s notation is largely used descriptively rather than prescriptively. Building from this more informed understanding of the written notation, Chapter 3 next addresses the shaping of the tactile elements of performance, namely fingering and pedaling. While the previous chapter is concerned with the act of reading and understanding the indications in the score, this chapter discusses the  11  difficult task of translating the notation into sound, executing passages correctly with dynamic balance, clarity and transparency. The use, or perhaps more accurately ‘non-use’, of the damper pedal appears frequently in Schoenberg’s writings as well as in anecdotal writings about his teaching.18 This is discussed along with explanation of some of the acoustical effects and byproducts of the use of the pedal, examining why its use is often not appropriate in Op. 23. Several detailed fingering and handredistribution examples are discussed in this context, codifying some underlying strategies that can be utilized in other passages in the piece. Chapter 4 treats the temporal aspects of performance, including issues of metre and tempo, with the aim of arriving at an intellectually and expressively satisfying interpretation of these elements in performance. The appropriateness and treatment of Schoenberg’s metronome markings is discussed, along with clues to solving problems of basic tempo and tempo modifications found within the context of Op. 23. Again, the preface to Op. 23 is a valuable interpretive resource in discussions of temporality. In addition to a prefatory point on metronome markings, Schoenberg includes his particular use of three accentuation symbols that reinforce or modify the metre as notated by the time signature. Performance strategies for Schoenberg’s two invented accentuation symbols for temporarily modifying the  18  These are collected and discussed in Leonard Stein, "Die Braune Sauce: The Significance of the Pedal in Schoenbergs Piano Music," in Festskrift Jan Maegaard 14.4.1996 (Denmark: Engstrm & Sdring Kbenhavn, 1996) pp. 111-115.  12  strong-weak patterning in the governing metre are discussed along with his use of the caret accent (^) to indicate a particular emphasis of up-beat figures. Each of these chapters contains specific examples from the score to Op. 23, and while not every instance or complexity can be treated in a document of this scope, the representative examples serve as a means for making decisions in other related passages or topics. Nevertheless in these earlier chapters particular elements are necessarily discussed in relative isolation. Chapter 5, the final chapter of this paper, examines the second piece of Op. 23 in greater detail. This piece is the shortest of the five, allowing for thorough exploration of the interactions among the individual elements discussed earlier in this document, reconciling notation, tactility and temporality into an interpretative whole.  13  Chapter 2. Understanding and Interpreting the Notation Music notation, while creating the illusion of being exact, is inherently limited; its symbols almost entirely qualitative, relational and imprecise. Certainly composers of the 19th and 20th centuries sought to remedy these weaknesses, developing a much higher level of sophistication and complexity in their notational detail than preceding centuries. Along with this, however, is a corresponding tendency towards treating notation as a prescriptive rather than a descriptive medium. This has progressively turned the score into a set of instructions for an executant rather than a description of musical ideas and suggestions on how to interpret them. I would argue that a descriptive approach allows for the inherent weaknesses and limitations of the medium while the prescriptive ascribes to the written score an undeserved level of authority, ingraining its own limitations into performance. Our best strategy for forming an understanding of any composition, necessarily transmitted through the flawed means of musical notation, is to treat the score as an apparatus for describing the musical work, rather than an embodiment of the work itself. This requires would-be interpreters to seek answers within and beyond the score, in the writings of the composers themselves, in the performing traditions and conventions of its particular social and historical surroundings, as well as through their own curiosity and intuition. Schoenberg’s complex relationship to notation is perhaps unique amongst his contemporaries in the early decades of the century. He seems to recognize with  14  astonishing perspicuity the innate shortcomings of notation and accept the important role of the interpreter in bringing his musical works to life. For without performance music would often be as incomprehensible as a telegram which, for reasons of economy, many ‘superfluous’ words, all punctuation, all separations, all articulations are omitted. Perhaps this even suggests that performance is also a part of the task of presenting an idea.19  He is occupied through much of his career with this notion of Darstellung [presentation] of the musical idea, and through this concept is forced to constantly re-examine his approach to notation. As Schoenberg charts completely new compositional territory and his musical language becomes more difficult to immediately understand, the notation becomes correspondingly more and more detailed in its use of articulation, dynamic, tempo and character markings. Many have taken this to indicate an obsession to control and prescribe all aspects of performance in the manner of Stravinsky, but Schoenberg’s stance seems something entirely different: Here we must also take into account that at the moment when notation was thought of, people must also have thought of it as becoming progressively more exact. Something else must be borne in mind here; our musical notation is disposed so that nearly all the characteristics involved are notated only relatively or approximately: pitches, rhythm, loudness, etc. Even this low degree of exactness can be achieved  19  Arnold Schoenberg, “Performance and Gestalt” in The Musical Idea and the Logic, Technique and Art of Its Presentation, ed./trans. Patricia Carpenter and Severine Neff (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), p. 196.  15  only because a system of inexactness, in the form of approximation, is made the basis of a convention – because all the true relationships are tempered, all the recurring decimals rounded off. All the rhythm, pitches and tempi in nature are more manifold and complicated.20  I strongly believe that Schoenberg’s notation seeks to awaken the imagination of his interpreter rather than to demand exact interpretation. Far from being restrictive, when his notation is approached as descriptive, the myriad details give the interpreter an astonishing freedom of possibilities, requiring intuition, a highlyresponsive ear, and refined technique of articulation and phrasing to bring about the complex structures notated in the score. This approach also helps explain the many apparent inconsistencies and contradictions in the notation, whereas literal and systematic solutions would quickly run into problems. Relating and integrating the details of these pieces into a comprehensible whole is no easy task. A cursory glance at the score to Op. 23 shows a rich profusion of markings: articulations, accidentals, dynamics, slurs, etc. The texture itself is largely polyphonic, built from the interaction and juxtaposition of gestures peppered with notated details. Schoenberg has chosen throughout Op. 23 to write all of the music, no matter how dense the texture or complex the structure, on two staves. This choice certainly has a considerable effect on the look and readability of the score. Contemporaries such as Debussy or Scriabin had expanded to three or more staves  20  Schoenberg, “About Ornaments, Primitive Rhythms, Etc. and Bird Song,” in Style and Idea, p. 311.  16  when the complexity and layering of the music called for it, and this approach lends a visual clarity and isolation to the individual components of the overall structure. While Schoenberg made use of three staves in Op. 11/3, his choice to render Op. 23 completely on two staves brings out the importance of the interaction rather than separation of distinct elements. I have often been tempted to orchestrate or write out a ‘full-score’ explosion, in much the same way as open-score editions of Bach fugues. While there is value in such an approach, the close sense of interaction between the gestures is quickly lost if they are disentangled this way. The high degree of importance Schoenberg has placed on this close interaction by presenting the material on two staves should not be underrated because in many cases it comes at the expense of visual clarity, creating numerous notational ambiguities, particularly in the area of voice leading. The notation in Op. 23 often creates as many questions as it answers, leaving the performer with the daunting task of attempting to interpret Schoenberg’s intentions. Many answers lie hidden in the score itself, with context and comparison revealing the solutions to notational problems. Schoenberg also provides an identical written preface, published with both Op. 23 and the Suite Op. 25, reproduced below in the original German (see Figure 2-1), along with two different English translations (see Figure 2-2 and Figure 2-3):  17  Figure 2-1 – Op. 23 Preface, Wilhelm Hansen Edition, original German21  Figure 2-2 – Op. 23 Preface, Wilhelm Hansen Edition, English translation22  21 22  Arnold Schoenberg, Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23 (Copenhagen: Wilhelm Hansen Edition, 1951), p. 2. Arnold Schoenberg, Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23, p. 2.  18  Figure 2-3 – Op. 23 Preface, Wiener Urtext Edition, English translation23  This important primary source treats specific performance practice issues such as articulation, ornamentation, pedaling and tempo, and also introduces idiosyncratic musical symbols invented or commandeered by Schoenberg. It will be  23  Arnold Schoenberg, Ausgewählte Klaviermusik (Vienna: Wiener Urtext Edition, 1995), p. 33.  19  helpful for the reader to mark these pages, as the preface material is referenced often throughout this document. A draft version of this preface exists as marginal notes in the sketchbooks to Op. 2324, as does a similar preface published twenty years later with the Piano Concerto Op. 42 (see Figure 2-4), obviously modeled after the earlier document:  24  Brinkmann, Kritischer Bericht, p. 22.  20  Figure 2-4 – Explanatory notes to Piano Concerto, Op. 4225  25  Arnold Schoenberg, Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, Op. 42 (New York/London: G. Schirmer, 1944). Certain points from this preface are not applicable to discussions of solo piano music. In  21  While certain topics reappear in all three versions, each is different, including some points and omitting others, mirroring the perpetual refining of Schoenberg’s approach to notation. They provide a valuable cross-reference to one another, supplementing the brevity of the treatment of each topic in each source. The remainder of this document treats these topics within the context of Op. 23, along with related performance topics not specifically addressed in the preface to that work.  Articulation and Slurs The largest section of the preface to Op. 23 is devoted to issues of articulation, which is fitting because it is certainly the most complicated issue in Schoenberg’s notation. Articulation marks of some form appear on nearly every note of Op. 23, with at least ten different signs used separately and in combination. Schoenberg discusses only a handful of these in this preface, and likewise in the other versions. In addition to markings that apply to single notes, groups of notes are given articulation profiles by means of slurs. Seeking to describe ever more complex differentiations, Schoenberg combines articulation markings within slurs, slurs within slurs as well as expression words that alter the articulation of a given passage. Every possible variance of attack and release, emphasis and non-emphasis, connection and separation, interaction and juxtaposition is marked in the score,  addition, Schoenberg’s later notational refinement of using Haupt- and Neben-stimme to indicate the primary and secondary voices within a polyphonic texture were not yet used at the time of Op. 23.  22  giving each gesture a distinct notational description and challenging the interpreter to seek this same variety of characterization and shape in their performance. Let us start with the most basic of markings, and attempt to establish their relationships and interactions in the abstract. These will then become the foundational means for relating the more complex markings found in the score. In addition, this preliminary discussion will demonstrate the interpretational ambiguity of even the most simple and seemingly straightforward notational details, thereby demonstrating how a purely prescriptive approach is not appropriate for this music. While not a marking per se, the unmarked note does have an implied articulation. In keyboard literature this articulation can take many forms depending on the style, context and character of the piece involved. While the unmarked note is not treated explicitly in Schoenberg’s preface to Op. 23, it is mentioned in point 3a of the preface to the Piano Concerto. Here he categorizes the unmarked note among three types of detached notes: normal detachment, staccato and spiccato. Unmarked notes are described as “notes which are not so long as legato notes; i.e. not shortened but only separated from the next notes.”26 Schoenberg’s approach is a departure from his immediate predecessors, for whom the unmarked note in keyboard literature was normally assumed to be legato unless otherwise indicated. In this way he borrows a convention from string playing where unmarked notes are implicitly  26  Schoenberg, Piano Concerto, Op. 42, preface.  23  detached, and the use of slurs intimately connected with legato playing and changes of bow. This fundamentally different understanding of the unmarked note has the potential to radically alter the sound of a given passage. Since a short silence or separation must now occupy the final portion of the written duration of a note, this has significant ramifications for the use of the damper pedal and choice of fingering. Unmarked notes appear in small groups or in isolation throughout Op. 23, with very few extended passages not having further articulation markings. The longest passage consisting of entirely unmarked notes comes in piece 5, mm. 44-60 (see Example 2.1). This passage, played with a legato basic touch (and likely a generous amount of pedal), loses all sense of polyphonic clarity, sounding like an impressionistic succession of harmonies. When it is played with a detached basic touch, the listener can hear how and when each polyphonic voice contributes a new note to the 12-tone row (Db-A-B-G-Ab-F#-Bb-D-E-Eb-C-F) being built and repeated in this section. This short space before any new attack, however slight, allows the ear to pick out which voice moves, while still hearing how each note contributes to the whole of the texture and the emerging row-structure.  24  Example 2.1 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 44-60  While the written durations of a series of notes serve to indicate their points of attack within the established metre and tempo, articulations serve to alter their point of release within this durational boundary, creating a lesser or greater proportion of separation. While I do not think it appropriate to assign an absolute value for this sounding portion, for the purpose of clarity let us define conceptual sounding durations, however arbitrary. If the unmarked – and therefore detached – note is held for 80% of its written duration, then there is conceptual room to shorten it further in varying degrees and to have these heard as distinct articulations. There  25  is also a small amount of room to lengthen this note, say, to 90% of its written duration and to have this also heard as a distinct articulation. Only legato playing would have notes held notes for 100% of their written duration. The most basic articulation markings, staccato and tenuto, require room on either side of the detached durational standard if they are to be perceived as such. Schoenberg addresses both of these articulations in Point 2 of the Op. 23 preface, while also differentiating two distinct categories of staccato: the dot (light and elastic) or the wedge (hard and heavy). The early sketched draft of the preface contains the clarification, “– ist der Gegensatz von einem ·” [tenuto is the opposite marking to a staccato].27 This wording was revised out of the published preface, but it provides an important confirmation of how these symbols modify a basic articulation: tenuto lengthening, staccato shortening. While I realize this seems to be just the conventional and standard interpretation of these markings, there is much that is subjective about even the most clearly defined markings. We know that a staccato is to be shorter than an unmarked note, but how much shorter remains a matter of context when staccato can appear on any written note duration, at any tempo and at any dynamic level. Its interpretation can only be described in relative terms through the notational conventions.  27  Brinkmann, Kritischer Bericht, p. 22.  26  Tenuto, as well, is not nearly as straightforward to relate in the abstract as it may seem. A note under a tenuto mark – which Schoenberg expressly calls a Längenzeichen or length mark – must be lengthened from the unmarked note, but still has to retain separation from the note following so as not to create legato. Our basic conceptual duration of the unmarked note must be able to accommodate a note longer than itself, but still shorter than the full written duration. Historically, the tenuto marking has also functioned as a type of dynamic and agogic accent. The sketched draft of the preface material points clearly to this function, containing several further clarifications which have been left out of the final preface version: bezeichnet also: Längenzeichen; in diesem Sinn auch gelegentlich zu Betonung (Verlängerung = Hervorhebung!) verwendet, in diesem Fall wird | das Zeichen: ´ darübergesetzt: ´ – | In Verbindung mit Verschiebung |  bedeutet ´ stets eine | rhythmische  Zeichen zur Aufhebung der Betonung |  The so-called length-mark (tenuto) is used also in this way occasionally for emphasis (lengthening = emphasis!) In this case, the ´ is set above ´–. In conjunction with , the ´ will always mean a rhythmic shifting. The mark indicates the avoidance of emphasis28  Schoenberg acknowledges here that the tenuto is sometimes used for emphasis in addition to lengthening. However, he is quick to differentiate this type of usage with its own symbol (´– ), thus implying that in his music, tenuto on its own is not specifically emphasized. This version of the preface seems to suggest that the  28  Brinkmann, Kritischer Bericht, p. 22. English translation mine.  27  accentuation mark functions simply as the emphasized component of the tenuto articulation when its corresponding non-emphasis sign is absent in the context of a passage, and thus has no effect on the metric (rhythmic) organization in this exceptional case. However, in all of Op. 23 (and Op. 25) the accentuation mark is never used over a tenuto without being paired with the non-accentuation mark on a nearby note. The revision in the final preface takes out the misleading information, but unfortunately does not replace it with additional clarification. Since this mark then always involves a rhythmic shift, detailed discussion is reserved for Chapter 4 which treats issues of tempo and metre.29 Let us return to our classifications of the different articulations and their conceptual effect on note length. Schoenberg describes in the preface his use of the combined tenuto-staccato saying: “the note should be lengthened but still separated from the following note by a pause.”30 Already it is difficult to posit this curious marking amongst the basic articulations already discussed. By the description, its sounding length should be somewhere between staccato and tenuto. How then should this be made different from an unmarked note? Are we to believe that this detailed marking in essence contains two elements which merely cancel one another out?  29  Also treated in Chapter 4 is Schoenberg’s use of the caret accent (^), which by its description in the preface, is closely related in interpretation to the accentuation symbols. 30 Schoenberg, Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23, p. 2. Preface, Note 2.  28  Similar questions abound and interpretational confusion is magnified with the addition of one final basic articulation: the slur. Schoenberg does not treat the topic directly in the preface, though he is clear in other sources that the slur is meant exclusively for legato playing. Schoenberg writes in a note to his publisher regarding the occasional typographical practice of using a slur-like bracket on triplets and other tuplets, “Der Bogen dient bloss für legato.” [The slur serves purely for legato.]31 Again, this notion sets Schoenberg apart from his predecessors, for whom the slur in piano music had come to relate more to phrasing and structure than to articulation. The exclusive use of the slur for legato playing is again borrowed from the conventions of string playing. True legato is not physically possible on the piano, though the instrument can do a convincing enough job of approximating the connectivity of the breath or bow in other instruments. Legato on the piano is created by overlapping the sounds of two consecutive notes briefly before releasing the first. This can be done to an infinite number of varying degrees, from nearly imperceptible to ‘over-legato’, holding the notes as long as physically possible with the hand. This aural impression of connectedness can be assisted by dynamic shading and by the use of the damper pedal. The defining feature is that legato notes occupy their full written duration, or even slightly longer. It is important to recognize that the slur is the only marking in  31  Brinkmann, Kritischer Bericht, p. 24.  29  Op. 23 that denotes legato playing, and thus has no separation between consecutive notes. The slur does however have a beginning and an ending, both of which must be distinctly articulated from their surroundings. The last note of a slur must have its release shortened in much the same way as the basic, unmarked note. This is confirmed through Schoenberg’s frequent modification of the final note under a slur with other articulation markings. The articulation at the beginning of a slur should be an automatic result of whatever precedes it, since all articulations except for the slur maintain some degree of detachment from what follows. These abstract concepts of unmarked notes, basic articulations, and slurs provide a starting point for examining the score and its markings in context, formulating a working methodology for clarifying the details of the notation. While the preface material gives a few hints and clarifications, it does not deal directly with the scenarios that one encounters in the score. In order to organize the overwhelming number of notational details, I have found it helpful to distinguish three categories of markings found in the score as a means for conceptualizing how they contribute to the shaping of a performance. These categories are not restricted to articulations, but accommodate everything notated in the score including pitches, durations, clefs, time signatures, and character and tempo indications.  30  The first category I call prescriptive markings. All markings could potentially fall into this category if the notation is conceived as a prescriptive medium, as each then represents an instruction to the executant. However, by approaching the notation as inherently descriptive, I reserve the prescriptive category for those rare markings for which there is little or no conceptual variance or discrepancy. Specific to articulation, the opposing detachment of unmarked notes and legato treatment of notes under a slur fall into this category, though even these must be subtly modified according to context. All other markings are classified under the categories of either reinforcing markings or comparative markings. In the category of reinforcing markings I include those which reinforce the instinctive and musically logical execution of a given passage, clarifying shapes and guiding the direction of motives, gestures or lines. Comparative markings are the essential vocabulary for contextually relating one manner of execution to another. Drawn from an unprecedented lexicon of possible symbols and combinations, a marking of this type in Schoenberg’s music serves primarily as a means for comparison to (or distinction from) other markings. The important notion here is that comparative markings can change based on their context, but must be heard and perceived in the relationships they present in the notation. Apart from this, they may not have quantitative, pervasive or absolute meaning. Often markings will be at once comparative and reinforcing, having elements that contribute to the functioning of either category. Using these three  31  categories just outlined, we can begin to understand both the complexities and apparent inconsistencies of Schoenberg’s notation. To explore these distinctions, let us look at the opening phrase of the first piece in Op. 23, a three-voice texture where each voice has its own set of articulations (see Example 2.2 below).  Example 2.2 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm 1-4  This is a relatively sparsely-marked passage within the context of the piece. It contains only 19 pitches, but a total of 22 performance markings. We can immediately find an example of a comparative marking in the descant. Here we have three distinct elements: first an unmarked F#4 and then two three-note slurs, each beginning with the same pitch (Eb4, then enharmonically respelled as D#4). As it is unmarked, the F#4 must be detached from the start of the first slur. The notes under each slur are to be played legato, but the final notes must be detached. The final note of the first slur (F4) is unmarked, but the G4 at the end of the second slur  32  is marked with an additional tenuto. While F#4, F4, and G4 must be distinctly separated from the notes that follow them, the amount of space must be comparatively gauged to differentiate the tenuto from the unmarked notes. The tenuto on the G4, and the hairpin markings on the F4 and G4, also function as reinforcing markings, highlighting the melodic contour of each of these short gestures. The highest note within each gesture is given notated dynamic emphasis; in addition the highest note between the two gestures (G4) is given more durational prominence than the F4. Similar contour-reinforcing hairpins appear on all voices in these opening measures. These markings are reinforcing because they confirm an interpretation already implied without additional markings. In this passage comparative markings also highlight the polyphonic independence of the three voices; something that is relatively easy to maintain when voices move one-at-a-time, but that requires carefully distinguished articulations when two or more voices move simultaneously. This happens for the first time at the beginning of the second measure, where the descant and middle voices move to Eb4 and Bb3 respectively. The top line is given individuality through the small silence at the end of the preceding F#4. In contrast, the Bb3 is under a continuous slur coming from the preceding G3, connected and legato. The listener can more clearly follow and separate these two lines when they are articulated in this way. These markings engineer the polyphonic independence of the three voices, but through their distinction also prepare the first point of structural articulation in the piece: when all  33  three voices articulate together for the first time before the downbeat of m. 4. With the cumulative effect of the earlier comparative distinctions emphasizing the independence of the voices, the end of this first complete larger phrase represents a brief moment of unity. Applying this kind of detailed approach allows the small motives to be heard, the individual lines to be understood and the formal whole to take shape through the interaction of these comparative and reinforcing details.  ‘Impossible’ Markings Schoenberg discusses only a scant few of the wide variety of markings used in his piano works. Nevertheless, there are several peculiar markings that are given detailed written treatment in Schoenberg’s correspondence with pianist and composer Ferruccio Busoni. Busoni raises the issue of a marking that is an apparent impossibility at the piano: <> used over single notes or chords in Op. 11.32 Schoenberg defends his use saying, “Naturally, I never imagined that one could make these chords grow louder and softer. […] In such cases, I always mean a very expressive but soft marcato sforzato. Roughly comparable with the portamento marking or the like.”33 He immediately counters with another apparent impossibility, regarding his use of crescendo marks on held notes. Schoenberg says that this type of marking, “…is of course also not to be taken literally. It should  32  Ferruccio Busoni, letter to Arnold Schoenberg dated 2 August 1909, in Ferruccio Busoni: Selected Letters, ed./trans. Antony Beaumont (London/Boston: Faber and Faber, 1987), p. 386. 33 Schoenberg, undated letter to Busoni in Ferruccio Busoni: Selected Letters, p. 388.  34  simply be an indication of the direction of the line. Or of the degree of intensity. More an aid to the comprehension of the line than a marking for performance.” 34 Schoenberg’s wording here strongly corroborates my categories of reinforcing and comparative markings, providing distinction between these and prescriptive markings. Many other seemingly impossible markings in Op. 23 can be understood in reference to this clear statement. While it is not possible in this document to discuss each and every different symbol and combination used by Schoenberg in Op. 23, an application of the methodology used here will illuminate similar relationships and structures when applied anywhere in the piece. While the symbols are precise, their inherent meaning is descriptive rather than prescriptive. In his 1931 essay entitled “For a Treatise on Composition,” Schoenberg states: “One understands only what one can take note of.”35 To relate all of Schoenberg’s articulations on an absolute durational spectrum would be futile because they would necessarily be so close to one another that their differences would be impossible to perceive as a listener. For the performer then, the descriptive approach means taking note of the myriad different articulations, accents and their combinations and categorizing them according to function -- prescriptive, reinforcing or comparative. Through this we can devise ways to communicate every  34 35  Schoenberg, undated letter to Busoni in Ferruccio Busoni: Selected Letters, p. 388. Schoenberg, “For a Treatise on Composition”, in Style and Idea, p. 267.  35  one of these details of articulation, in balance and determined by context, and allow Schoenberg’s music to be understood in the spirit of his intentions.  Arpeggiated Chords While the preface to Op. 23 is primarily concerned with details of articulations and accents, there are several other points that clarify very specific notational matters. The concise and apparently unambiguous wording of these points belies the larger issues surrounding their interpretation that sometimes arise when they are encountered by the performer. The remainder of this chapter treats these points, refining our understanding of the written descriptions in the preface by connecting them to examples from the pieces in Op. 23. Point 3 in the preface treats the indication for arpeggiated chords by means of a vertical wavy line beside the chord. Schoenberg uses an arrowhead to specify whether the chord is to be rolled upwards or downwards. Schoenberg is not the innovator of such a distinction, but he is unusual in reviving it in the 20th century. This practice has historical precedent dating back to prefaces and ornament tables accompanying 17th-century harpsichord music such as the one shown below from D’Anglebert’s Pièces de clavecin of 1689 (see Example 2.3).  36  Example 2.3 – D'Anglebert Ornament Table. Arpeggiated Chords  D’Anglebert indicates the basic idea of execution and direction of arpeggiation through the use of oblique slashes across the note stems either above or below the chord. Moreover, D’Anglebert also indicates a suggested rhythmic treatment for the arpeggiations. Schoenberg is less prescriptive than D’Anglebert in his explanation of how to play arpeggiated chords, which may be surprising considering the detail and specificity in nearly all other aspects of Schoenberg’s notation. He does not address the overall speed of the rolled chord, or whether the roll should commence on or before the notated beat or subdivision. He also does not give any guidance as to how these rolled chords should interact with surrounding articulation markings and slurs. Standard 19th and 20th century practice is to execute rolled chords before the beat, in contrast with earlier centuries which began directly on the beat. In Schoenberg’s Op. 23, I believe both types of execution are possible, and that each instance should be carefully considered to determine whether the roll should begin  37  on or before its notated time point. In general the note that is placed directly on the beat becomes the most prominent within the rolled chord, so before-beat arpeggiations highlight the final note, and on-beat arpeggiations underscore the initial note. Left-hand ascending arpeggios such as the one in m. 5 from the third piece (see Example 2.4) are well served by placing the lowest bass-note squarely on the beat, clarifying the rhythm in the bass and providing a clear marker of the location of the beat while the right hand sustains its tied notes. The speed of this rolled chord should reflect the pianissimo dynamic and Langsam character. In this way, the execution is a mirror of the immediately preceding downward gesture in m. 4.  Example 2.4 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, mm. 4-5  Before-beat execution is possible and likely preferable in m. 17 of the same piece (see Example 2.5). Here, a quick and sharp arpeggiation in the left hand with an arrival on the beat gives an accent to both the gesture and the B3. This execution  38  then corroborates the following two gestures in the right hand of this same measure. With the arpeggiation sign, Schoenberg can only readily indicate uniformly contoured arpeggiations (upward or downward). Therefore, in the right hand in this example, the two arpeggiations are fully notated, accommodating their internal change of contour while assigning exact rhythmic values and indicating before-beat execution. To help clarify the close relationship between these and the gestures in the left hand, the rhythmic execution of the abbreviated arpeggiation should match that of the explicitly notated arpeggiations in the right hand.  Example 2.5 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, m. 17 (with upbeat)  This example shows that when Schoenberg wants something very specific, he foregoes the use of the Schlangenlinie abbreviation, and writes out in detail the intended execution. The extent to which he will take such notational specificity is shown in m. 22, again from the third piece (see Example 2.6).  39  Example 2.6 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, m. 22  Note the detailed treatment of articulations in the three arpeggiated chords in the third beat of this measure, including the accented and lengthened C4 in the first chord, and the C#4 out of the ascending contour in the third chord. Also note that two of these begin on the notated beat, and the middle one neither begins nor ends on a beat. Obviously when Schoenberg wants something very specific he marks it very clearly. In cases where he uses the abbreviation, he leaves it up to the performer to interpret. While the range of appropriate realizations is typically narrow, by considering these markings as descriptive and therefore open to variance, rather than executing them uniformly according to convention, this abbreviation is made open to a wider range of expressive possibilities. Nevertheless, there are still instances in which Schoenberg does not give the performer enough detail, and it is much harder to determine what his intentions may have been. In the next example from the fifth piece, it is clear that Schoenberg wants something detailed and exact, but has not given a clear indication of its execution  40  (see Example 2.7). We see in this example four notes connected under a single arpeggio sign. The surrounding material is littered with articulations, slurs, ties and dynamic indications. Questions of exactly how, when, and in what order to execute the details of this complex gesture are difficult if not impossible to answer as presented. Rarely is it possible to criticize Schoenberg for a lack of notational detail, but here a written-out approach, as demonstrated previously in Example 2.6 would have been the only way to remove all uncertainty.  Example 2.7 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 19-21  Looking at a final pair of examples from piece 5, mm. 23 and 25, we encounter another perplexing use of the arpeggiation sign. Here the chord is to be rolled upwards, as per the direction of the arrow, but the optical illusion is that the two notes in the lower staff are actually higher in pitch than those in the upper staff (notice that both hands are in the bass-clef). Are we to roll these chords upwards as they are graphically represented on the page, or from lowest to highest pitch? Though not specified in the preface, the musically logical answer seems to roll the  41  pitches low to high, with the left hand crossing over the right to play the final, highest note(s) of the arpeggio. This reading is confirmed in the critical remarks in the Schoenberg complete works edition. As it turns out, Schoenberg had foreseen the problem with this passage and originally notated it with the annotation ‘die höchste Note zuletzt’ [the highest note last]. Mistaken by the editor of the complete works edition for a redundancy, this annotation is unfortunately removed entirely from the final printed edition. 36  Example 2.8 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 23 & 25  Though a small detail with a seemingly self-evident manner of execution, context reveals numerous challenges to interpreting the arpeggiation marks as they are used in Op. 23. Often the best option is to take a common-sense approach to any  36  “T. 23 + 25. 8el mit arpeggio-Erläuterung: die höchste Note zuletzt; da jedoch vorher in T. 20 das umgekehrte arpeggio nicht gesondert erklärt wird, da ferner die Spielanweisungen für das gesamte Opus die Pfeil-Arpeggien erläutern, wurden die Vermerke gestrichen.” [mm. 25 & 25. Eighth notes (quarter notes?) with arpeggio marking: the highest note played last; since earlier in m. 20 the inverted arpeggio is not explained separately, and the preface for the entire opus further explains the arrow directions in the arpeggios, this note has been deleted.] in Brinkmann, Kritischer Bericht, p. 29.  42  ambiguities, on the assumption that Schoenberg will notate in greater detail if he has a specific rhythm or angular contour in mind. Nevertheless, there are instances in the notation that elude the most reasoned attempts to deduce their exact meaning, and must be solved by musical intuition alone, to compensate for the missing details.  Trills and Appoggiaturas Point 5 in the preface addresses the issue of trills and appoggiaturas: “Triller immer ohne Nachschlag, Vorschläge als Auftakte” [Trills should always be played without termination and appoggiaturas as upbeats.]37 Despite being connected by a comma, the two clauses of this preface point refer to two separate and distinct notational conventions. The second of these, referring to Vorschläge, is the easier of the two to unravel, though the term itself is loaded with conflicting interpretational possibilities through the course of music history. In this statement Schoenberg is clearly aligning his usage with that of his contemporaries, where the small-note notation takes from the duration of a prior note rather than a following note. This is different from the 17th and 18th century usage where the small notes indicated dissonant intervals over the bass line as a form of ornament. These inevitably resolved to their connected large notes, occupying the strongest metrical part of their duration, and often the majority of their length as well. All historical and lexicographic complexities aside, since Schoenberg’s harmonic language is  37  Schoenberg, Ausgewählte Klaviermusik, p. 33.  43  redefining the notions of dissonance and consonance without reference to a rhythmic-harmonic bass, his alignment with the later use of this symbol is clear and unambiguous. The first half of the preface note, while seemingly straightforward, contains a multitude of hidden assumptions. Mention of trills at all is especially curious considering the presence of only two trills in all of Op. 23 and ironically only one miniscule trill in the baroque-modeled Suite, Op. 25. In fact, in all of Schoenberg’s solo piano music there is only one other passage that uses trills: mm. 44-47 from Op. 11/2 (see Example 2.9).  Example 2.9 – Schoenberg, Op. 11/2, mm. 44-47  With all of the possible interpretational details that cry out for further clarification, why would Schoenberg go to the trouble of writing this note that has so  44  few applications? Perhaps its inclusion is in reaction to hearing misreadings of the above passage from Op. 11. Here he is clear to indicate, through accidentals, the notes involved in each trill, but does not specify anything about the ending in the notation. The prefatory note remedies this deficiency, ensuring that the melodic termination of a trill customary in the Classical era is not what is intended by his notation. Nevertheless, there are still specifics not addressed in this note, including whether trills begin on the main note or the note above, or what their relative speed should be. The inclusion of the note perhaps represents a relic of Schoenberg’s continual struggle with notation and its limitations and implied conventions. His process of notational evolution can be seen in the notated trills from Op. 23. Here Schoenberg remedies most of the possible misreadings of the trills from Op. 11. In mm. 15-16 of the fifth piece (see Example 2.10) the initiation of the trill is now shown along with a relative idea of the speed of the trill, written as small 32nd notes. It is certainly possible to begin this trill slightly before the beat as indicated by the presence of the Vorschläge, but the brisk tempo of this passage and the lack of a referential left hand attack on the second beat would make the difference imperceptible. Therefore, I believe it plausible in this case to interpret these Vorschläge as reinforcing markings, clarifying which notes are involved and which note will begin the trill. To support this notion, observe Schoenberg’s use of slashed note-stems to indicate true  45  Vorschläge as shown in Example 2.11 in contrast to the slurred and beamed 32nd notes in Example 2.10.  Example 2.10 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 15-17  Example 2.11 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, mm. 1-2  Again, Schoenberg’s notational clarifications align his usage much more closely with contemporary practices rather than historical, but with a high degree of specificity intended to reinforce the intended execution. Throughout the Baroque and Classical traditions, the trill is a hybrid harmonic-melodic and rhythmic-motoric ornament. Typically beginning on the upper-note, the trill is conceptually a series of upper-note appoggiaturas, with a dissonant note alternating with a consonant over  46  the bass in addition to being a lively and rapid rhythmic device. Increasingly through the 19th century and into the 20th century, the trill was executed starting with the main note, reducing the harmonic-melodic associations but strongly retaining the rhythmic-motoric component. Only one other trill is marked in Op. 23 and comes in the second piece (see Example 2.12). The notation is not quite as specific as the one in the fifth piece, lacking the clarification of the initiating notes, though I believe this also to be a main-note trill. Of particular interest here are the notated ending-notes as this ‘cadential trill’ resolves. While the pitches themselves are not the same as the Nachschlag in Baroque and Classical-era pieces, the gesture is similar, since it creates a linkage to the next strong beat. Nevertheless, Schoenberg’s own notation of a clear Nachschlag gesture here is nearly an exception to his own statement in the preface that trills should always be without endings.  Example 2.12 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/2, mm. 4-5  47  There are two further examples that defy convention in the form of quasi tr~~~~ indications in mm. 88-87 of the fifth piece (see Example 2.13). These curious markings receive no treatment in the preface and are not notated at all like the other examples in Op. 23. The word quasi here implies that it is not a true trill, and the tremolo notation on the stems would indicate a rapid repetition of a single note rather than an alternation of two notes. The lack of initiating small notes and the lack of an accidental for the upper-note of the trill corroborate this idea.  Example 2.13 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 86-88 (downbeat)  Again, all of this information is fairly straightforward and logical from the notation. Nevertheless, in the extant recordings of these pieces, many pianists render these as true trills. This list includes Pollini, Gould, and perhaps most shockingly, Eduard Steuermann, Schoenberg’s most trusted interpreter. In each of these three cases the pianist plays a whole-tone trill followed by a semi-tone trill, trilling in each case to the upper note F5, giving away the goal note of the chromatic motion two measures earlier than written. How could such an apparent misreading be so widespread when Schoenberg’s notation so clearly indicates that something different  48  from a normal trill is intended here? The answer can again be found in the earliest edition of these works, where this passage is notated with simple trills.38 Schoenberg quickly remedied this to the corrected version above, but unfortunately the error persists in still-circulating editions made based on this first printing. The examples through this chapter have served to demonstrate the challenges to interpreting Schoenberg’s notation. Symbols, be they used in conventional ways (historical or contemporary), non-conventional ways, or newly invented to serve a particular function, are all tools to better describe and present the musical idea, and only rarely to prescribe execution down to the minutest detail.  38  Brinkmann, Kritischer Bericht, p. 25.  49  Chapter 3. Shaping Tactility: Pedaling and Fingering As we move from an intellectual understanding and interpretation of the details of the notation, we must next discuss the intermediary but vital physical aspect of translating these into sound. Schoenberg offers remarkably scant advice in the face of the considerable pianistic challenges in Op. 23. Only point 6 in the preface addresses the physical action of piano playing: “In general the best fingering is that which allows an exact interpretation of the note groups without the aid of the pedal.”39 Among the many connotations of this short point is the requirement to give up what is for most pianists the chief means of nuancing sound and expression: the damper pedal. Often this instruction is dismissed with contempt or at the least incredulity, rationalized by the fact that since Schoenberg was not really a pianist he obviously did not understand what he was asking. On the contrary, I would argue that Schoenberg knew exactly what he wanted from the piano and it involved a radically redefined approach to sound and technique. Schoenberg’s opinion of the pedal is made absolutely clear in his essay “The Modern Piano Reduction” of 1923: Anyone writing for the piano should bear constantly in mind that even the best pianist only has one pair of hands, though he also has a pair of feet, unfortunately, which now get in the way of his hands, and now help them on their way. The feet sometimes know (as and when required) what the hands are doing; and while on other occasions they take no notice of it whatever, they still give monotonous and reliable support to the main aim of all present-day piano playing: the suppression  39  Schoenberg, Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23, p. 2.  50  of any possibility of a clear, pure sound. These feet, together with the pedals appertaining to them, make piano-playing more and more into the art of concealing ideas without having any.40  This strong admonishment is contemporaneous with Schoenberg’s work on Op. 23 and the Suite Op. 25. It exhibits a frustration, well-concealed in the preface note, which cannot be easily dismissed if we are to seriously approach his piano music. While we certainly are conscious of what is lost through the prohibition of the damper pedal (except where it is expressly indicated), it is not immediately clear what is gained. Pianists are all-too-aware that it is virtually impossible to sustain or modify a note after it has been struck; once the initial energy has been imparted, the sound dies away inevitably with no way to enliven or resuscitate it. Busoni writes in a letter to Schoenberg defending his rewritten version of Schoenberg’s Klavierstuck, Op. 11/2, “the piano is a short-breathed instrument, and one cannot do enough to assist it.”41 Schoenberg responded, “But, as I think that the piano texture is governed more by the sequence of chord-making elements than by their simultaneity, it is selfevident that the texture must have a relative lack of brilliance and richness.” 42  40  Arnold Schoenberg, “The Modern Piano Reduction”, in Style and Idea, p. 349-350. Ferruccio Busoni, letter to Arnold Schoenberg dated 26 July 1909 in Ferruccio Busoni: Selected Letters, p. 384. 42 Arnold Schoenberg, undated Letter to Ferruccio Buson in Ferruccio Busoni: Selected Letters, p. 385. 41  51  To lend empirical credence to Schoenberg’s argument, I would suggest that much of the use, and over-use, of the damper pedal is done without a clear understanding of exactly what it is actually doing to the sound inside a modern grand piano. Often we tend to study the end result of the use of the pedal – rich and full sonorities, ‘warm’ sound – without knowledge of the actual acoustical means by which that result is achieved. Through an awareness of what is actually occurring inside the piano, I can demonstrate why use of the damper pedal is fundamentally anathema to the majority of Op. 23 and how Schoenberg exchanges its sustaining ability for the greater virtue of absolute control and clarity over texture. The development of the piano has coincided with the development of the modern symphony orchestra, and the performing spaces built for them. Through the 19th century, pianos developed to compete with these orchestras as a prominent solo instrument. Additionally, piano music increasingly sought to emulate the sound of the full orchestra, having its full textural range literally at one’s fingertips. Many of the changes to the mechanism and construction of the piano involved ways to utilize as much of the sympathetic resonance as possible to fill-out and prolong the tone. Some of these developments were experimental in nature and were not continued into the twentieth century, such as the addition of an entire set of undampened strings which were not struck, but only served to sympathetically resonate the other sounds within the piano. Other developments became standard in an instrument that has basically remained unchanged since the early 20th century. Cross stringing,  52  where the bass and treble strings cross in the harp of the piano, created a closer proximity where more sympathetic vibrations could pass from one string to the next. Aliquot stringing, where the unstruck lengths of string beyond the bridge at the hitch-pin end of the string are intentionally tuned to two-octaves above the sounding length of the string, became another standard way of increasing resonance. These and many other technologies were employed in order to get the most rich, sustained tone possible from the piano as it developed through the 19th century. A row of felt dampers as a means to stop the sound of vibrating strings is among the most essential and basic means of controlling the ends of notes on the piano.43 These dampers can be raised individually or in combination by pressing their corresponding keys, and remain raised until those keys are released, allowing the sound to resonate. The damper pedal, however, raises all the dampers across the whole range of the instrument simultaneously, making all of the strings are sympathetically responsive to any and all sounds inside the piano. These two ways of controlling the dampers already offer an astonishing range of sonic possibilities. If a single note is played without the pedal, only a small amount of resonance will be added through the soundboard while its corresponding key remains held. In addition, the harmonically tuned aliquot parts of the strings along  43  Modern grand pianos typically do not have dampers extending all the way to the top of the keyboard, allowing the uppermost register to serve in a way similar to the aliquot stringing or independent resonating strings, increasing the resonance even without the use of the pedal.  53  the range of the keyboard and the uppermost strings without dampers will vibrate sympathetically inside the instrument. This amount of resonance is a constant inside the instrument and cannot be directly controlled by the performer. The resulting tone with only this basic resonance is very pure, clean and distinct. If the same single-note is played, and the damper pedal pressed shortly afterwards, some of the energy from the already vibrating string will be imparted to harmonically corresponding strings across the full range of the keyboard as the dampers are raised.44 This is a significant jump in resonance from the natural tone of the instrument. A very different sound comes if the pedal is depressed before a note is struck. Capturing the moment of attack, the strongest impulse of the note’s profile, creates the most sympathetic resonance – primarily the octaves and perfect fifths above the note, but also the major thirds to some degree. The resulting sound is resonant and perfect for the “extension and enrichment of the tonal harmony,” claims Leonard Stein discussing the piano music of the classical-romantic era, where “the pedal was absolutely necessary for providing a rich palette of sound and colour by reinforcing the overtones throughout the total range of the instrument.”45 This richness, so desired in much of the music of the 19th century, is not ideal for polyphonic textures. Since the most prominent sympathetic vibrations come at  44  In this way you can actually create a small crescendo on a held note: if the pedal is added slowly, there is a slight bloom as the sympathetic strings start to vibrate. 45 Leonard Stein, "Die Braune Sauce", p. 111.  54  the octave, fifth and major third, every note struck with raised dampers rings its major triad inside the piano. The clarity of polyphonically constructed music suffers greatly from pedaling, even careful pedaling, because of the indiscriminate response of sympathetic vibrations, creating a sound that is too thick and muddy to follow multiple independent voices simultaneously.46 It is important to consider also how this effect relates to atonal music, or music without a defined tonal centre. Since the pedal reinforces tonal or at least triadic constructs, its use seems hardly appropriate at the most fundamental level. The other main reason for avoidance of the damper pedal is that atonal music typically has a preponderance of complex polyphonic textures requiring clear articulations and differentiations both within the same voice and between different voices. In such cases the pedal is more often a hindrance than a help. Schoenberg’s abhorrence of the pedal is not a matter of personal preference, but is essential for ensuring his polyphonic ideas and textures are presented clearly, and are not muddied by indiscriminate harmonic resonance. The barrier for most pianists is that we are too accustomed to the resonant pedal sound, and feel the tone lacks depth without it. Eliminating the pedal does raise the risk of the sound becoming somewhat stark and thin, that is, until the ear becomes accustomed to it.  46  Often this is counteracted by using the dynamic capabilities of the piano to bring out one voice within the texture at the expense of the others. I would argue, however, that at this point the texture ceases to be polyphonic, but becomes instead melody and accompaniment.  55  Nevertheless, a piano with a suitable natural tone, and an appropriately responsive acoustic space that supports but gives clarity to the sound, will provide the best conditions for exploring the sound-world of the piano ohne Pedale that Schoenberg requires in his music. Schoenberg reserves the use of the pedal for certain special effects, where its resonance mechanism is specifically desired. The elimination of the pedal elsewhere greatly heightens the effectiveness of these passages. There are only four pedal marks in all of Op. 23, one in each of the pieces except for the first. The most novel and specific of these is discussed in detail in Chapter 5 below. Nevertheless, there are also several implied usages of the pedal that Schoenberg notates without a specific pedal marking. The first involves the occasional use of open-ended ties which extend into empty space. In context these are best interpreted as pedal markings that capture the resonance of a chord, but not its attack.47 Schoenberg also clearly implies pedal in passages that would otherwise be impossible to execute owing to the extreme range of held sonorities. In the passage from Example 2.8 in Chapter 2, the damper pedal would need to be used after the attack of each downbeat and holding through until just before the end of the measure giving full duration to the bass note. As an added detail, the arpeggiated chord of m. 23, with its tenuto markings in both  47  This type of marking is discussed in detail in Chapter 5 in the context of the second piece in Op. 23.  56  hands, should be held until shortly after the pedal is released, shortening the E2 comparatively as an unmarked note. Indeed, Schoenberg’s piano writing presents innumerable challenges to perform without pedal. In Op. 23 one quickly realizes just how much Schoenberg is asking of a performer in an apparently simple prefatory note. The music is full of seeming-impossibilities, requiring a pianist to rethink his or her concept of what constitutes a practical – or even a possible – fingering. To help the performer, a further clarification of the prefatory note is essential. I am convinced that Schoenberg’s adage includes hand-distribution under the category of fingering. Schoenberg writes nearly all of his piano music on two staves, and while this comes with the general assumption that the top stave is for the right hand and the bottom for the left, I have found no explicit statement in Schoenberg’s writings that supports Peter Roggenkamp’s assertion that “Schoenberg’s notation is hand-specific; that which he intended for the right hand appears throughout in the upper system, that for the left hand in the lower system.”48 Often an accurate rendition cannot be obtained using the note-hand distribution indicated by the staves. This is especially the case without the aid of the damper pedal. Therefore, I feel justified in the redistribution of tones and gestures to different hands, or shared  48  Peter Roggenkamp, "Interpreting Schönberg at the Piano" in Schönberg: Ausgewählte Klaviermusik, p. 87.  57  by both hands, with the higher aims of achieving clear and distinct presentation of the part-writing, as well as an exact interpretation of the indicated note groups. In general, my solutions seek to render all legato slurs with the fingers alone and not the pedal, even when this alters the physical gesture. Schoenberg gives only a few hints for finding appropriate fingerings and hand-distributions. Schoenberg mentions what he calls Fingerwechsel or finger exchange, involving the silent substitution of one held finger for another, as a technique that will serve in certain cases. While this is something most pianists are aware of, and likely use quite frequently, Example 3.1 shows how Schoenberg takes it to an unprecedented level of technical difficulty in the third piece of Op. 23.  Example 3.1 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, mm. 6-7  Schoenberg accompanies this passage with the note: “NB: Bei langen Noten immer (eventuell mit Fingerwechsel) Finger gut liegen lassen; bei kurzen äußerst rasch aufheben.” [The long notes always (possibly with finger-exchange) must be  58  fully held; lift the short notes very quickly.] This is an extremely difficult passage to execute at the appropriate tempo, in order to project out of the complex left-hand texture the line B2-C#3-D3-Bb3 that Schoenberg underscores with the repeated abbreviation “NB,” with tenuto markings on B2 and C#3, and with a distinct mf dynamic and slur for D3 and Bb3. (See the left hand, immediately before and after the barline of m. 7.) The effect in the first two chords (forming the upbeat gesture to m. 7) can be accomplished with a heavily-weighted hand leaning first to the thumb and then to the fifth finger. In m. 7, after the first three staccato dyads, the pianist must very quickly replace the thumb on the sustained D3 with the fifth finger in order to reach the Ab3-Eb4 dyad. 49 In order to get to the Bb3, the D3 must be substituted again with the third finger so that the legato of the slur is clear and the B2-D3 dyad can be reached. Later in this same movement Schoenberg gives his only specific fingering suggestion in all of Op. 23: m. 25, shown in Example 3.2 below, where he seeks to bring out a tenor line amidst a complex texture through the fingerings indicated during the final eighth-note beat in the left-hand.  49  I suggest striking the E2-A2 and held D3 with 5-3-2. The second finger strikes the already-held D without re-sounding it, replacing the thumb and facilitating the difficult exchange to the fifth finger.  59  Example 3.2 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, m. 25  Here the first chord is struck with 1-2-4-5, with only the 2nd finger holding on to the long C#3. This is quickly exchanged for the 3rd finger, leaving the thumb and 2nd finger free to play the remaining dyad. A further finger substitution (not indicated by Schoenberg) is required to continue holding the C# into the following measure as indicated by the tie. Both of these examples convey how non-conventional solutions are required to render the texture clearly, and that use of the pedal would be completely inappropriate to solve the problem within the highly detailed texture. A similar approach and unwillingness to rely on the damper pedal must accompany the fingering solutions throughout the piece. “Exact interpretation of the note groups” includes all of the articulations, dynamics and other performance indications in the score, and it is not by accident that Schoenberg connects fingering with interpretation, making it clear that interpretation is directly related to fingering and to clarity of presentation, and is not something added or approached separately.  60  Integrated Fingering Solutions The remainder of this chapter discusses a number of passages from Op. 23 in detail, highlighting their challenges, developing strategies for execution, and demonstrating how these choices are integrated with the expression and clarity required by Schoenberg’s notation. In addition to suggesting suitable finger choices for a given passage, the examples often indicate a redistribution of material between the hands when it is either a preferable approach or the only solution that does not require the use of the damper pedal. The solutions presented here are at times highly unconventional and require much practice. Nevertheless, in each case they seek to differentiate every articulation marking and to clarify the intricate polyphony. To avoid confusion in the examples, fingerings intended for the right hand are written above the grand staff, and fingerings for the left hand are indicated below the staff.  The primary goal of the first few examples is to specify fingerings that allow for clear polyphonic textures in which the specified articulation profiles can be maintained throughout. Each example, unless specifically indicated, is to be played  61  without pedal. As discussed in Chapter 2, the basic touch implied by an unmarked note is slightly detached, and slurs are the only indicators of legato playing. Example 3.3 comes from Op. 23/1 and is a continuation of the three-voiced texture discussed previously in Example 2.2. From the beginning of this movement, each voice maintains a clearly defined articulation profile. From m. 4 this profile becomes more detailed and intricate, the rate of attack increases, and the partwriting spreads across a wider compass.  Example 3.3 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 4-5  Played with the right hand alone, the stretches in the top staff through the first measure are uncomfortably wide, and the required articulations are difficult to execute and project clearly. A convincing solution involves splitting the middle-voice between the two hands throughout the phrase as shown. Pertinent details of the fingering are discussed below:  62  1.  The choice of RH1/3 for the opening D#4/B4 allows for a comfortable legato to RH5 on the D#5 on the second quarter note. With this basic hand position, notes through the remainder of this measure that can be readily reached are played by the lower number fingers on the RH, with the remainder being taken by the LH. 2. Passing the middle-voice D#4 in the RH1 to the D4 with the LH1 must be practiced to ensure the legato is convincing. This is soon a comfortable solution. 3. LH2 executes the staccato C#4 in the middle voice, as well as the following accented Bb3 in the lowest voice. It is easy to get a very light release on the first note with the LH, and the repetition of the same finger ensures a proper amount of detachment and accent on the Bb3. 4. LH3 on E3. The choice of LH2 on both the middle-voice C#4 and the Bb3 that follow is a stretch that deliberately makes holding the E3 uncomfortable if not impossible. For LH2 to comfortably reach the C#4, the E3 must be released, reducing it to about ¾ of its written value. This creates an appropriate amount of detachment for an unmarked note at the end of a slur. 5. RH, 32nd notes in first measure. Here the fingering RH1-2-3 is deliberate as it is less comfortable than RH1-2-4. The more comfortable solution would undoubtedly produce legato at performance tempo, whereas the RH1-2-3 creates a stretch, and without specific conscious thought, a small detachment at the end of the slur. 6. Last 32nd note of the first measure. I take this with the LH, allowing for a comfortable preparation of the RH for the next measure as well as giving rhythmic accuracy and a lightly detached unmarked note. 7. RH5 on D#5 moving to RH3 on E5. This fingering necessitates a complete change in hand position which provides the articulation after the slur at the end of the measure, while also making the following grouping of notes fit well under the RH. 8. Second measure. RH3-2-5 in the top voice allows for a comfortable legato. The following RH3 on the C5 is an intentional but not impossible stretch. Up to tempo, the attempted but not-quitecomfortable legato gives the effect of a tenuto leaving only the smallest amount of detachment before the C5. 9. The 32nd notes in the top voice have a two-note slur followed by a longer slur. The longer slur has a staccato dot on the second note. RH5-4 provides the legato for the slur. RH4-2 is an overlarge stretch, necessitating a small articulation. This small motion of the RH to reach the RH2 on the Gb4 leaves the RH1 free to take over the held Eb4 from the LH. This removes the large stretch of a minor tenth required when the bass voice moves next. The x in the RH is a reminder to release the note just after the Eb4 is played in the LH. The x in the LH is a similar reminder to let go once the RH has taken over. 10. RH last two notes. With no specific direction from Schoenberg on interpretation of articulation markings within slurs, I take the staccato under the slur to mean that the phrasing and contour should resemble legato, but should remain slightly detached. The RH5-4 from a black-key down a whole-tone to a white key provides the faintest hint of an articulation here. 11. The final middle-voice E4 is taken much more comfortably with the RH. The repeated RH1 from the Eb4 to the E4 ensures the detachment at the end of the slur.  From this detailed list we can see several general fingering strategies emerging. Priority is given to finding fingerings that embed correct articulation, making incorrect articulation more difficult, unlikely, or even impossible. Since these fingerings themselves often require the correct articulations just to navigate, once  63  they are learned the articulations do not need to be applied separately. Three specific techniques can be grouped from the detailed descriptions above: a. b. c.  Repetition of the same finger on successive notes to create a desired articulation (#3, #11) Following a higher-numbered finger with a lower, requiring a shift of hand position and creating a needed articulation (#7); Choice of fingers over an articulated leap that cannot possibly play legato, achieving varying amounts of detachment depending on the distance and fingers chosen (#4, #5 #8, #9, #10).  In addition to these types of articulation-integrating fingerings, other techniques employed here involve playing legato in the same voice between two hands (#2), taking over held notes with another hand (#9) and freely redistributing notes of the middle voice between the two hands. While these fingering and redistribution solutions occasionally result in a solution that is physically more comfortable, this is never done for the sake of convenience, but always maintains the correctness and clarity of the resulting execution as its primary rationale. Correspondingly, fingerings and distributions are often chosen that are intentionally uncomfortable, because they require that correct articulations are physically integrated from the start. Example 3.4, also from the first piece, shows a similar complex of independently-articulated polyphonic lines in a three-voice texture.  64  Example 3.4 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 21 (end) - 22  Here, the entirety of the bottom voice is under a single legato-slur with contour-reinforcing hairpins. The upper two voices, in contrast, are notated with multiple incise slurs, carets and accents. The indicated fingering leaves the left hand completely free to shape the bottom voice without any finger substitution or breaks in the legato. While this solution creates a challenging and complex fingering for the right hand, it ensures that every articulation mark and slur is accounted for. As to the specific choice of fingers for the right hand, we can see many of the same techniques from the first example used again here. The next few examples show places where redistribution of the hands is the only way to ensure the correct part writing and articulations without the use of pedal. In Example 3.5, from the end of the first piece in Op. 23, it is impossible for the right hand alone to play the four chords in m. 34 maintaining legato connections through all three moving voices.  65  Example 3.5 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 34-35  Redistributing this passage so that the bottom note of the first three chords is included in the left hand allows for an effective legato in all voices. The transposition pattern breaks between the third and fourth chords resulting in two tones being repeated on successive chords. A closer approximation of legato on these repeated tones can be achieved by taking over with the left hand in the fourth chord as indicated.50 The special emphasis <> on bottom staff G4 in m. 34 is given a correspondingly strong digit (LH1), allowing the other fingers (LH5/4/2) to pivot above in preparation to take the chord from the upper staff. The right hand then has an entire sixteenth note at the end of m. 34 in which to prepare to play the F#3 on the lower staff. To maximize the effect of the double-slur to this note, the left hand  50  On most grand pianos it should be possible to find a point at which the key can be raised so as to reset the striking mechanism of the hammer but without having the dampers stop the sound. In this way a legato can be achieved on these repeated tones. If the instrument makes this impossible, a small amount of pedal may be used to cover this gap.  66  should quit the 5/4/2 chord soon after it is played, leaving only the G4 sounding for a small fraction of time before the right hand plays the F#3. A simple but unconventional redistribution of hands comes in the fourth piece (see Example 3.6).  Example 3.6 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, m. 5  Here the problem is the wide legato stretches in the left hand. It is possible to play nearly legato with the LH1-5 fingering substitution on the D3, and then sliding LH1 from the Bb3 to the A3, with LH2 playing the F#3. However, only an extremely large hand can continue the legato to the low F2. This involves reaching a tenth, but the awkwardly placed F#3 for LH2 makes for an extremely uncomfortable stretch. The solution in Example 3.6 takes a different approach. It also requires the stretch of a tenth, but places the LH2 on a much more accommodating note under the wide position of the hand. This execution allows for both hands to be much more relaxed,  67  excepting the brief stretch in the left hand from the D3 to the Bb3/F4. Admittedly, this solution looks skeptical on the page, but the resulting sound and voice leading is remarkably clear despite the switch of the hands. The result leaves the gesture wellshaped, allowing it to cadence naturally and relax through the ritardando. The last set of examples comprises the most radical of solutions, involving highly unconventional fingerings and hand redistributions. These represent how far Schoenberg requires a pianist to go in seeking solutions that do not require the use of the pedal. Nevertheless, once practiced these solutions are highly reliable and give utmost accuracy and clarity to the comparative details of the notation. The articulations and voice-leading required in the passage shown in Example 3.7 are made exceedingly challenging as a result of the A#5 sustained above most of the measure.  Example 3.7 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, m. 10  68  The solution here involves similar strategies to those already discussed. For example the first two notes in the bass voice, played with LH3 then LH5, necessitate a complete change of position in the left hand, creating an articulation and setting up the hand for the remainder of the measure.51 The choice of fingerings in the right hand throughout, including repeated fingers on the tenuto notes, and intentionally choosing an unreachable RH5-3 to cover the articulated leap between the A#5 and penultimate A4 also follow strategies already discussed. The radical part of this solution lies in the three-against-two pattern between the two moving voices in the third eighth-note beat. The LH3/4 are played together to start the group, followed by LH2 and LH5 as the group continues. But, as you hold the G#4 and D4, you must extend LH1 beneath the hand slightly further than you would in order to play the E4, enough so that a part of the thumb is over the already held D4. Play LH1 while simultaneously releasing the G#4, and release LH5 once LH1 is firmly holding both the E4 and D4. LH3/5 are now free to move smoothly to the F#3 and B3 on the last eighth-note of the bar. Example 3.8, a passage from Piece 4, is perhaps the most challenging two measures to play with clarity in the entire set of Op. 23.  51  rd  The 3 finger on the C4 is a choice determined by the fingering solution to the preceding measure, and therefore is a required starting position for the left-hand.  69  Example 3.8 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, mm. 14-15  The low pp thirds in m. 15 are marked as extremely short notes, contrasting the overlapping legato figures in the right hand. Any pedal whatsoever is liable to ruin or muddy this passage. That being said, the right hand contains a seemingly impossible sequence of connected figures requiring an unorthodox solution. The points below describe specifics of this solution: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.  7.  The tied Gb3 in the first measure should remain held by RH1 while RH3 strikes the staccato E4, sounding until just after it can be heard ringing in the texture again. In the last beat of the first measure, the release of RH2 on Ab3, and its subsequent substitution on the held C4 is key to set up the positioning of the RH in the second measure. In the second measure, with the E3/C4 now being held with RH1/2, the A4 can be reached with a minimal turn of the wrist. The held RH2 on C4 will give the impression that the legato continues, only releasing at the last possible minute to play the Bb3/C#4 with RH1/2. Second measure. The D3 in the top staff should be taken with LH1. This note must be held through until the x while the other LH fingers continue the short staccato thirds. Notice that the Gb2/Bb2 third is a full (unmarked) eighth note. It should be held by LH4/2 while LH1 releases the D3 from point #4 above. The F2/A2 should be played with LH5/1, ingraining several correct articulations. The release of the D3 mentioned above is guaranteed by the reuse of the LH1 here. This dyad is unmarked and therefore longer in duration than the wedge-staccato notes. If an attempt is made to connect the LH5/1 to the LH5/3 on the G2/B2, even though it is not possible at tempo, the release will nevertheless be well timed and proportionately lengthened. The first three LH thirds of the last beat fall easily under the hand owing to the LH5/3 that begins the beat. The final sixteenth-note of the measure requires a shift in hand position to include the Bb3 from the upper staff. The two x marks are a reminder to keep the staccato notes short while the Bb3 holds in the LH1.  70  8.  The second half of m. 15 is the crux of the fingering solution. No longer having to worry about the awkward D2, the RH is free to navigate the challenging slur that convers the remainder of this bar. The slur begins with a repeated RH1/2 on B3/D#4 to detach it from the preceding Bb3/C#4. The RH1 is then released and passed under the held RH2 finger to play the G4 while the RH3 plays the unmarked (detached) E4 followed by RH2 on C4. Upon release of the C4, the hand returns to an uncrossed position, anchored to the held G4. The Ab4/F5 is now easily reached legato with RH2/5. While RH5 holds the F5, release the RH2 on Ab4 at the last possible moment to play the final F#4/A4 with RH1/2.  This is a highly detailed fingering requiring unusual crossing of fingers over the thumb of the right hand as well as a significant amount of practice to be fully reliable. Luckily, the required practice will inevitably result in the passage being well-memorized and therefore extremely unlikely to fail in performance. Certain notational ambiguities in this passage factor into the fingering choices reflected in the example. The stem direction in the right hand through m. 15 is inconsistent, with the lower voice only given downward stems when its note-values differ from the upper voice. Thus it is unclear to which specific material the slur applies: To only the notes of the top voice? To all of the upward-stemmed notes? Or to both voices throughout? The solution in Example 3.8 allows for a well-connected top voice, and a nearly legato middle voice. The only way to play both voices completely legato would be with the addition of the pedal, which would certainly ruin the effect in the left hand. The solution in Example 3.9 involves a complete redistribution of the material between the hands from what is suggested by the staves.  71  Example 3.9 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, m. 25  The slurs again pose the biggest challenge, though here they all are possible save for the first slur in the right hand. For this slur, the bottom voice C#4/F#4 could be sacrificed, prioritizing the legato in the top voice; a large hand could reach the second chord with RH2/4/5 following a quick finger substitution (RH3-1) on the A4. However, the interspersed fingers of the left hand become a physical obstacle to this finger substitution. With the redistribution in Example 3.9, no sacrifice need be made, and the final result is considerably less awkward to execute, if not to read. The opening involves all five fingers on the right hand, playing the first chord with RH1/2/4, then RH3/5 on the Ab4/C5 that they are already positioned above. The left hand then crosses over to play the B4/G5/Bb5. The only real challenge in this fingering is in  72  timing the release of only the RH1/2/4 to just after the left hand plays its first chord and creating the formerly impossible legato connection under the slur in the top staff. I suggest keeping the hands crossed as this passage continues, until an opportune moment to cross back at the start of the third beat when all voices articulate together. The final passage in this chapter treats one of Schoenberg’s scattered ohne Pedale markings in Op. 23 (see Example 3.10). In this passage from Piece 4, it is indeed impossible to connect the three sixteenth-note dyads in the second beat with a true legato.  Example 3.10 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/4, m. 20  73  In his discussion of the same passage, Dünki suggests the following finger pairings: LH5/3, LH2/1 then crossing over the held LH1 to LH4/2.52 This solution prioritizes the upper voice legato, but with a large hand only the C#3 must be shortened significantly. Nevertheless, it is a mystery to me why Schoenberg requests the seemingly impossible. If one truly goes to the lengths required to finger the myriad other difficult passages in the work without pedal, this would seem one of the rare examples where its momentary use would be warranted. I have struggled to arrive at a possible reason for the forbiddance here. The most likely rationale is that the immediately preceding material, including the first three chords of this measure, has worked its way into the extreme low range of the piano, all in a ff dynamic. The dampers in the lowest octaves of most concert grand pianos are not efficient enough to stop the vibrations immediately, especially when these notes are played very loud. If the damper pedal were used starting on the second beat of m. 20, this resonance would then bleed into the p dolce. Perhaps here Schoenberg is willing to settle for the lesser of two evils, preferring an approximation of legato in the left hand to obscuring the quiet start of the following material. This marking also implies then that no time should be taken to allow the low notes to clear before moving on in the new dynamic and character. Without the pedal, the dampers will naturally slow and  52  Dünki, Schönbergs Zeichen, p. 60.  74  stop the low strings from vibrating, but with the pedal, they would continue ringing until well into the measure. My solution, while perhaps violating the law’s letter somewhat, does not compromise the intended sound, nor sacrifice any of the notated articulations. Here the D#5/B5 is played with the right hand, followed immediately by the sostenuto (middle) pedal.53 These notes can now be released and will be exclusively held by the middle pedal. The sound of the sostenuto pedal differs greatly from the damper pedal in that it doesn’t lift the dampers for the entire instrument but only those notes whose dampers are already raised when the pedal is depressed. The pedal in essence acts like a third hand holding only the resonance of these two notes. The three dyads in the lower stave can now be shared between the two hands with an absolutely connected legato in both voices as shown in Example 3.10. Following this, a gentle release of the C4/F4 allows the sounding D#5/B5 held by the sostenuto pedal to be heard on its own again before the right hand plays the D4/Bb4. At this point the middle pedal is immediately released, passing off its notes legato to the right hand. Apart from the double finger exchange in the right hand as this passage concludes, the challenges of this measure are now met without sacrificing  53  This device is only available on certain grand pianos and rarely on upright pianos, especially recent ones. The nomenclature of the piano pedals is confusing in both modern and historical use. Throughout this paper the right pedal, often called the ‘sustain’ pedal is termed the damper pedal to avoid confusion with the sostenuto (middle) pedal.  75  any notational details and there is no possibility of the resonance of the preceding passage to mar the crystalline clarity of this dolce passage. The above solutions seek to integrate the details of the notation into the choice of fingering and hand distribution. For the most part this is done without concern for comfort or ease, except as far as it ensures correct versus incorrect execution. As much as possible, these solutions avoid adding in articulations as a separate step. In this way the fingerings physically activate the articulations rather than relying on conscious mental impulses for which there simply is not time given the complexity of the textures and rapid change from one articulation to another.  76  Chapter 4. Shaping Temporality While the score for a piece remains a static object, it represents a description of sonic relationships as they progress through time. The complexities of translating the limited medium of notation into a temporal process, organizing events and gestures and their relationships requires an approach that again does not treat each notated detail as an absolute directive. The interpretation of the written symbols must stem from the internal logic of the musical ideas; it must also engage the plasticity of musical ideas in their different contexts, and be informed by any additional information that can be obtained. The temporal aspects of music, including elements of tempo, rhythm, grouping, accent and metre, are only given the briefest treatment in the preface to Op. 23. These remarks are seemingly inconsequential in the face of the myriad possible interpretations and misinterpretations of markings that one finds in the context of the piece. Nevertheless, they do hint at the much wider rhythmic/metric issues and give a clear indication of the considerations that were most pertinent in Schoenberg’s mind. The discussion below discusses the direct implications of the prefatory material in detail, in addition to treating latent issues arising from their subtext.  77  Accentuation Markings Schoenberg uses two special accentuation symbols in his piano music, both borrowed from poetic analysis. These markings indicate a unique kind of emphasis or non-emphasis that Schoenberg seeks when he wants the notated rhythmic structures to contradict the metrical hierarchy implied by the time signature. Point 1 in the preface tells us that the oblique wedge means “emphasized, like a strong beat,” and its counterpart “not emphasized, like a weak beat.” While contradictions of the notated metre exist long before Schoenberg, his accentuation markings give new specificity to such metrical contradictions. The underlying assumptions that necessitate their use are vital to the understanding of metre in Schoenberg’s piano music. Paul Zukovsky, describing his own “personal vendetta against the bar-line,” infers from the preface note that, “Bar-lines are conveniences, not structural necessities,” and, “In Schoenberg’s music the bar-line dis-ease (sic) is counteracted by the use of two metric stress signs.”54 These markings, however, are used sparingly and for very special and explicit contradictions to the notated metre. Their infrequent use means that they represent an exception to the standardized structure inherent in the alternations of strong and weak beats and subdivisions within the bar. The wording of the preface point implies a functional metrical hierarchy that precedes other phenomenal accents. In their absence Schoenberg intends the  54  Paul Zukofsky, "Schoenberg for Performers: the Prequel," in Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 15.1 (1992), p. 167.  78  notated metre to be the primary basis for determining the underlying metrical hierarchy, though this does not preclude the presence of metrical conflict and ambiguity in such passages. Schoenberg chooses his time signatures with good reason. Indeed, if the barline was merely a convenience, the rhythmic notation could have been greatly simplified to achieve identical results. A simple example from the beginning of the third piece can demonstrate the active function of the notated time signature and rhythms (see Example 4.1).  Example 4.1 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, mm. 1-2 (beginning)  This opening idea is the subject of a quasi-fugue. Each onset in the first measure is notated off the written beat. The first attack aligning with the beat comes with the B3 in the second measure, marking it as the strongest point metrically in the entire subject. The execution of such a passage should be fundamentally different from Example 4.2 below, where the onsets have been shifted with respect to the beat.  79  Example 4.2 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/3, opening realigned to notated beats  In this example the durations and inter-onsets remain the same as in Schoenberg’s notation. Nevertheless, as a performer I would do anything I could to avoid the passage being heard as notated this way. The placement of the bar-line and notated beats changes how the passage is conceived from a performer’s standpoint, and is certainly not merely a notational convenience. Every effort should be made to communicate the rhythms as notated within the bar so the listener hears the conflict between the rhythms and the notated metre rather than a stabilized realignment within the metre. The interpretation should again be completely different if the notes were shifted a quarter-note later, two quarter-notes later, or if the time signature was 4/4 instead of 3/4, or indeed if any of the other metrical parameters were changed. The exact means of differentiating a passage so that it will be heard one way or another with respect to the notated metre is difficult to describe and certainly the techniques employed will change from performer to performer. Certainly the presence of a metrical hierarchy does not mean that every downbeat is to be exaggeratedly hammered out; articulated strong beats and subdivisions should get a  80  subtle contextual emphasis where they coincide with the notated metre, expressing how these points interact with the metrical relationships in the surrounding material. Even when these relationships are clearly defined within the performer’s concept of a passage there is a possibility for the listener to hear something altogether different from what is notated. This is particularly the case in audio recordings, where silences lose much of their rhetorical meaning. If such discrepancy is possible here in this simple example, it becomes inevitable elsewhere in the piece where the complexity of rhythmic/metric structures is significantly increased. There are myriad different ways individuals process sonic events into metrical structures. Nevertheless, we can trust that the bar-line and time signature provide the default set of parameters for the governing metrical relationships from which the relative degree of metrical conflict in the musical material can be interpreted. A wide range of possible hearings is inevitable – particularly when silences form the strongest portions of a given bar – but at all times the durations, rhythms and accents should attempt to convey a sense of how a passage interacts within the notated bar-line and time signature. Passages that include Schoenberg’s accentuation symbols serve to show where the default metrical hierarchy is to be most strongly counteracted, completely destabilizing and undermining the notated time signature. Again, we cannot guarantee a particular metrical hearing in all listeners, but observance of these symbols contributes to the likelihood that the listener will experience a  81  correspondingly strong destabilization of the governing metre. With few exceptions, all types of accent, whether arising from dynamics, register, duration or agogic, whether notated with specific symbols or not, should operate within the notated metre.55 A metrical reading that dispenses with Schoenberg’s notation, finding connections exclusively outside the grid of the notated bar, alters the essence of the musical idea and risks that it will not be heard as conceived.  Caret Accents Closely related in function to the use of Schoenberg’s accentuation symbols is his unique use of the caret accent (^). Ordinarily, this marking might be seen as a simple type of dynamic accent or articulation, but Schoenberg assigns it a rather special purpose in his piano music. This marking is mentioned in the preface to Op. 23, as well as the Piano Concerto preface, though the evolution of the precise meaning and execution is difficult to infer from the prefatory notes alone. This confusion is compounded by widely differing published translations from the German preface to Op. 23, two of which are reproduced below along with the original: ^ bedeutet mindestens: nicht fallen lassen! oft aber direkt: hervorheben (so sind insbesondre Auftakte bezeichnet)56  55  One important exception, which I believe introduces a weaker degree of metrical contradiction compared to the accentuation symbols, is Schoenberg’s particular use of beaming groups that cross beat divisions or even barlines. Examples and discussion of this are treated in Chapter 5 below. 56 Schoenberg, Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23, p. 2.  82  ^ at least means to be held on. Also it often means to bring out (in this manner upbeats have been specifically marked)57 ^ means at the least: do not deemphasize! However, often, it clearly means that the tone should be accentuated (especially upbeats are often notated with this marking)58  Again there is an early version of this note from the sketch material which helps to better understand the final version. It is reproduced below along with my own translation: ^ Zeichen zur Hervorhebung bloβ einer Note, die sonst fallen gelassen würde.59 ^ sign used simply to indicate emphasis of a note that might otherwise be dropped.  Between these two originals, and the various translations, it is possible to clarify exactly what is meant by this symbol. The first English translation of the preface note above, from the Wilhelm Hansen edition, suggests that this marking functions as an articulation, actually lengthening the note. I believe this to be a mistranslation, with the nicht fallen lassen better translated as an emphasis rather than lengthening by holding on. Consistent among all versions of the preface is that notes marked with this symbol are to be accentuated in some way. It is particularly interesting that Schoenberg describes upbeats as an emphasized phenomenon, since  57  Schoenberg, Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23, p. 2. Schoenberg, Ausgewählte Klaviermusik, p. 33. 59 Brinkmann, Kritischer Bericht, p. 22. 58  83  these typically function in metrically weak positions within a beat or measure. This seems to contradict Point 1 in the preface discussing the accentuation marks. The exact nature of the emphasis, implied but not explicitly stated, gives a unique goaloriented function to this symbol. Notes marked this way should be emphasized only inasmuch as they can highlight the relative importance of the following event: the downbeat emphasis must always supercede the upbeat emphasis. Notes marked in this way must capture the attention of the listener, but also point to the following event. Throughout Op. 23 these caret accents function most often as reinforcing markings, avoiding the association of certain notes with the end of a prior event rather than the initiation of a new event. Example 4.3 below is scattered with these markings:  Example 4.3 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 8-10  84  Each use of the caret symbol brings attention to a pending arrival on a written beat, indicating the relative strength of the arrival versus the upbeats, as well as avoiding possible confusion of association. This relationship is reinforced further with dynamic markings and small crescendi on the arrival events. The various articulation and accent markings on these arrivals are used comparatively to indicate the relative strength of each compared with the next, with all of the small arrivals contributing to the larger structural arrival on the downbeat of m. 10. Throughout Op. 23 examples can be found which clearly follow the model in Example 4.3, though occasionally the upbeat figures point to an event that is a silence. This usage is further discussed in Chapter 5 in the context of Op. 23/2, mm. 1-6.  Metronome Markings In making decisions about tempo, the interpreter is faced with challenges in determining the relationships of tempi to one another in a flexible way. Even something as prescriptive in nature as a metronome marking is used by Schoenberg in a descriptive way when he says in Point 4 of the preface, “The Metronome marks are not to be taken literally, they merely give an indication of the tempo.” This represents an uncharacteristic amount of freedom for Schoenberg, though in the later preface to the Piano Concerto, Op. 42, he adds the important distinction that the chosen tempo must correspond to the character. Particularly in faster movements, Schoenberg’s metronome indications are nearly impossible to attain, or  85  would sacrifice much in the way of comprehension if they were performed. In both fast and slow movements, the tempo marking might be ideal for the beginning of a piece, but might later prove unsustainable. In the face of these challenges, many performers look to this remark in the preface to justify ignoring the metronome markings completely. But the metronome markings represent Schoenberg’s concept of the tempo, and should not be so casually discarded. The discussion below, while not completely eliminating the difficulties of Schoenberg’s metronome markings, examines the challenges arising from notational misconceptions and interpretations of tempo modifications. Much of the confusion in interpreting tempo markings in Schoenberg’s music comes from a basic – and I believe unfounded – assumption that a single, unifying tempo governs an entire piece and that markings that alter this basic tempo inevitably return to it. Issues surrounding tempo and form in Op. 23/1 are treated by Katherine Petree and Andreas Bernnat in separate analyses, and they both draw detailed conclusions based on this premise of returning to a basic underlying tempo.60 This piece has features of an ABA ternary form with a return of pitch materials and motives from the opening after a contrasting middle section. While this is clear, it is also a bit simplistic as the B-section, while introducing new  60  Katherine Petree, “Chapter I. Tempo” in Performance Practices in the Piano Music of Arnold Schoenberg, pp.7-44. Andreas Bernnat, “Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23” in Arnold Schönberg: Interpretationen seiner Werke. Vol. 1, p. 333-352.  86  material, makes use of motives from the opening A-section, and the later return of the A-section presents the material of both A and B sections in synthesis. The ABA formal scheme forms the basis for both authors’ analyses, which pay particular attention to the point of recapitulation after the fermata in m. 21. In discussing this return, Petree argues that “the whole point of this variation...is that it is a highly compressed restatement of the opening measures occurring at four times the rate of speed of the original theme.”61 She recommends that the performer begin the piece with a basic tempo slower than Schoenberg’s metronome marking so that the fourfold augmentation can ultimately be made clear. Bernnat comes to similar conclusions, even advising the performer play to the opening at half the notated speed, suggesting that Schoenberg may have inadvertently notated his metronome marking for the wrong note-value (MM=108 for the eighth-note instead of the intended sixteenth-note).62 A 4:1 relationship is certainly present in the notated durations (half-note becoming sixteenth-note), but I believe this to be a false cognate biased by the inherently rational nature of rhythmic notation. I would posit that both Petree and Bernnat misinterpret the tempo modifications throughout the piece and how these correspond to the formal structure of the movement.  61  Petree, p. 16. This is highly unlikely if you look at the manuscript for the opening of this piece. One can clearly see a crossed-out Sehr mäβige, quarter-note equals circa 54 beats-per-minute. To this is amended the MM=108 for the eighth-note in black ink, and finally, as a last step, the parenthesis and Sehr langsam indication in pencil. With at least three separate revisions of the tempo marking, Schoenberg would have had to have been mistaken at least that many times as he decided on the best way to express the opening tempo. 62  87  By tracing how each tempo modifier operates in the context of this piece, we can see that the return of the A material is indeed accelerated in m. 21, but not in a strictly mathematical way requiring a completely different tempo from that indicated by Schoenberg. The piece begins Sehr langsam, with MM=108 for the eighth-note. As Petree rightly says, in order to keep the same basic tempo throughout the movement, many pianists begin this much slower (though not typically as slow as Bernnat suggests). At the beginning of the ‘B’ section in m. 13 the indication is etwas langsamer, with no further indications until the end of m. 20. The basic misconception arises from the interpretation of the three tempo-modifying indications in mm. 20-21 shown in Example 4.4.  Example 4.4 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/1, mm. 20-21  Both Petree and Bernnat interpret the Tempo indication and the corresponding formal division to mean a return to the basic tempo for the movement, the initial Sehr langsam of the beginning. I would argue here, that the return is to the etwas langsamer tempo from m. 13 and not the opening tempo. That  88  the indication is Tempo and not Tempo I or Tempo Primo corroborates this. Moreover, the connecting dashes from the ritardando and molto ritardando to the Tempo imply a localized cancellation of the markings immediately prior, rather than a large-scale formal return to a basic tempo. When Schoenberg explicitly wants a return to the initial tempo, he specifies this accordingly with Tempo I, as in Example 4.5. (Also notice here the lack of dashes from the molto ritardando.)  Example 4.5 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/5, mm. 66-68  To further support the idea that the indications in mm. 20-21 represent a localized slowing and not a formal return of the basic tempo we can turn to the manuscript sources for this piece.63 The pitch and rhythmic content is fully and completely notated in black ink in the source, as is the opening tempo marking and the etwas langsamer.64 This trio of tempo markings, all in pencil, look to have been  63  High-resolution colour scans of these are available online through the archive of the Arnold Schönberg Centre at http://www.schoenberg.at (Accessed 09.25.2012). 64 Interestingly, this has been modified from viel langsamer, with both the original and correction in black ink.  89  added as an afterthought, once all of the structural tempo relationships were already in place.65 The net result of returning to the etwas langsamer tempo in m. 21 still maintains a compression and acceleration of the opening material, but not in a strict 4:1 ratio. This demonstrates an approach to tempo that is comparative, based on context and succession, rather than prescribed by the absolute notated durations within a conceptual basic tempo for the movement. While Schoenberg gives performers the freedom to modify his metronome markings, it is important to correctly understand these markings and to check the assumptions of what these imply for the tempo throughout an entire movement. Schoenberg suggests a metronome marking with good reason, and careful attention to the various tempo modifications as the movement progresses often prove it to be the most appropriate after all.  65  The ritardando and Tempo indications are most certainly the same pencil. Possibly the molto ritardando, which is almost imperceptibly lighter, was a further marking added after the other two.  90  Chapter 5. Case Study of Op. 23/2 Although so much in Schoenberg's music can be said to be new and unlike anything that had come before, his music is often discussed in comparison to 18th and 19th century models.66 Schoenberg was always self-conscious in aligning his own development with the music of particular past composers. “But for once I will say it for myself,” Schoenberg says in his 1931 essay “National Music,” “my teachers were primarily Bach and Mozart, and secondarily Beethoven, Brahms and Wagner.”67 Although Schumann is not mentioned in this essay, I believe the second piece of Op. 23 shares a strong kinship of spirit and character with his work. 68 Schoenberg's use of contrast between two widely disparate characters – one passionate and violent, one dreamy and introspective – immediately calls to mind the duality of Schumann’s Florestan and Eusebius. The tonal language may be entirely new and the pianistic writing correspondingly innovative, but this piece draws much from character-piece cycles such as Carnaval, Op. 9, and Kreisleriana, Op. 16.69 Indeed, those works also introduced innovations in pianistic writing, and although Schumann is not explicitly  66  Examples include: Rudolf Stefan, “Schoenberg and Bach,” in Schoenberg and His World, ed. Walter Frisch (Princeton: Prinston University Press, 1999); Michael Graham Musgrave, Schoenberg and Brahms: a study of Schoenberg’s response to Brahms’ music as revealed in his didactic writings and selected early compositions. Diss. London University, 1979. 67 Arnold Schoenberg, “National Music” in Style and Idea, p. 127 68 Some connections between Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire and Schumann’s Dichterliebe have been explored by Richard Kurth in “Pierrot lunaire: persona, voice, and the fabric of allusion,” in The Cambridge Companion to Schoenberg, ed. Jennifer Shaw and Joseph Auner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), pp. 120-134. 69 Carnaval, with its cryptic use of short pitch-class sets representing names, is certainly a piece that shares close ties with Schoenberg's Op. 23. Exploration of these in detail will have to the topic of another study.  91  included among the composers cited in “National Music,” he may nonetheless have been among the major influences on Schoenberg’s writing for the piano. I mean for this chapter to serve in pragmatic terms as a performing guide to this movement, incorporating notational and technical considerations from the previous chapters alongside broader discussions of compositional and formal structure. To serve the narrative of this guide, I will further develop this kinship with Schumann, pulling Schoenberg away from the structural and analytical vocabulary with which he is more commonly associated. The piece is discussed first in sections, detailing important and interesting features of the work in the order they appear, before then addressing issues of tempo and form over the entire movement. It would be helpful for the reader to have the score on hand for reference throughout the chapter.  Measures 1-6 This piece opens with a character that is decidedly Florestanian. Three distinct gestures build successively (through dynamics, register, density of texture, rhythmic fragmentation and motivic extension) to a climax which, once reached, continues undiminished until the end of the first section. Inasmuch as analysis can inform the performer of the structure and content of this piece and help shape their interpretive decisions, let us briefly consider the opening material and its pitch content. While this piece is not strictly serial in its construction, the opening gesture  92  in the right hand presents an ordering of nine pitch-classes which, based on its return at structurally important points elsewhere in the movement, can be considered its basic thematic material. Schoenberg chooses three tones from within this set (9th, 3rd and 6th in order of appearance) to create an accompanying voice. The accompanying notes themselves form a [015] trichord, but Katherine Bailey suggests that the choice of these pitch-classes instead deliberately highlights the [014] trichord type as a harmonic sonority.70 To support this, she groups each accompanying tone with nearby tones (1 & 2 with 9; 5 & 7 with 3; 8 & 9 with 6). The first and last of these [014] segmentations is cogent, but the second is problematic, particularly at performance tempo. While [014] trichords occur in this piece with some frequency, I find this connection to the opening material difficult to fully accept. One could generalize that a key strategy of Schoenberg’s ordering of rows and selection of accompanying tones seeks to avoid functional harmonic implications. In this way then, he limits himself to a rather small variety of intervals, steering clear of tonally suggestive orderings of intervals or chords. The general coherence that is a byproduct of this strategy is often misconstrued as motivic and structural unity under the scrutiny of analysis. As with any type of abstract musical relationship, the more you look, the more you are likely to find. This is often at the expense of more  70  Bailey, Composing With Tones, pp. 41-42. Particularly Example 17a on p. 41.  93  important musical and analytical concerns. If Schoenberg wanted specifically to highlight [014] trichords as Bailey suggests, why would he not have been more overt with this initial presentation? Any number of techniques would have made this relationship much more clear, including accompanying the opening 9-note set with C-Eb-E, an [014] set that would complete the chromatic collection. More important here is that the entire opening gesture is self-referential, with the accompaniment drawing from the notes of the 9-note row. The same accompanying tones reappear nearly every time the row recurs within the piece. The final note of the row is the first bass-note heard in the piece, giving the C#/Db pitch class particular salience. While Schoenberg is intentionally avoiding suggestions of tonal centres in the traditional harmonic sense, the prominence of this C# here at the beginning, throughout the piece, and as the final solitary note give it the function of a referential pitch, guiding the listener through the structure of the movement. The execution of these opening measures presents a unique challenge to the interpreter, particularly in its rhythmic-metric construction. The first gesture begins off the beat, with a sixteenth-rest occupying the strongest portion of the notated measure. Similar to the earlier example in Chapter 4 from Op. 23/3 (Example 4.1, p. 79 above), the way this passage is notated within the bar shows a particular intention for the execution. If we were to consider only the attack pattern independently of the organization within the bar this passage is quite regular, almost square, with steady sixteenth notes in the right hand and corresponding left-hand attacks every four  94  sixteenth notes. However, the notation of the left-hand attacks as syncopations one sixteenth after the beat implies to the performer a certain agitation and irregularity in the character. The position of the first sixteenth-note is extremely weak from a metrical standpoint. Schoenberg begins the gesture with a correspondingly weak pianissimo dynamic, and a closed distribution of register. This quiet and weak start allows for the greatest possible build-up in the shortest amount of time as the passage continues. Schoenberg immediately begins to form larger structures after this first Florestanian 'snarl' in m. 1, heightening a sense of expectancy through the continued use of the caret accents.71 In addition to reinforcing the agitated character, here I believe Schoenberg is marking notes that should be felt as upbeats. They are certainly goal-oriented and forward-pointing, but also frustrated and disassociated, since they do not arrive at a metrically strong sounding event. The next gesture, beginning in m. 2, attempts once again to attain its goal, but breaks off even more abruptly than the first gesture. The third gesture defies all expectations, entering impulsively after the second gesture with only the briefest sixteenth rest for a pause. By truncating the second gesture and compressing the timing between it and the third gesture, Schoenberg intensifies the multi-faceted crescendo taking place throughout this section.  71  Detailed discussion of this symbol can be found in Chapter 4 under the heading Caret Accents above.  95  The seemingly irrational and complex rhythmic-metric construct in m. 3 can best be understood by tracing its compositional roots. Looking at Schoenberg’s sketch material in Example 5.1 below, we can see that this passage is actually generated from a regularized rhythmic-metric scheme being subjected to deletions and fragmentations.72  Example 5.1 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/2, mm. 3-4, original sketch version  The sketch shows this gesture represented as a steady stream of sixteenthnotes across a bar of 3/4 time. The figuration is etude-like, reminiscent of Chopin’s Op. 10/4 (see Example 5.2, m. 2) or the 7th piece from Schumann’s Kreisleriana (see Example 5.3).  72  Brinkmann, Kritischer Bericht, p. 57.  96  Example 5.2 – Chopin, Etude Op. 10/4, opening  Example 5.3 – Schumann, Kreisleriana Op. 16/7, mm. 67-72  In the sketch (Example 5.1), Schoenberg begins with this type of model in groups of four sixteenth-notes, even writing in a dotted secondary bar line before the third quarter-note beat to confirm where the secondary metrical stress falls. With no articulations written, this would be the assumed execution corresponding to the notated beats. Notice that both Chopin and Schumann further reinforce this with written accents and correspondingly regular left-hand chords. The bracketed notes in Example 5.1 are those deleted to formulate the final version of this passage. The effect of these deletions is to make a more regular metrical structure collapse and implode on itself. The right hand now groups the  97  sixteenth-notes 3-2-2-3 with the first group beamed across the barline and the subsequent groups given strong-beat accentuation markings. Schoenberg heightens the calculated metrical conflict by positioning metrically contradictory accompaniment chords in the left hand. These group in an accelerating pattern of 43-2-1 sixteenth-notes, with the second chord conflicting the right hand grouping most strongly. The third gesture culminates the building frustration of the opening measures as they attempt but never manage to align their rhythm to a regular metre. Through these first measures, there are simultaneous ‘crescendos’ of dynamic, register, chord-density and metre which finally reach their peak at the fortississimo (fff) on the downbeat of m. 5. Despite the sheer volume and density of the texture, this point is actually a release or at least a plateau of tension, as the material finally regularizes to the notated metre. To balance the irregularity of the preceding material, Schoenberg draws on the most conventional materials just before the apex of this phrase: a full-measure cadential trill. This figure is synonymous with the penultimate, pointing irrefutably to the first significant structural arrival in the piece. Looking at the notational details of this opening section, we can sense the care and specificity that Schoenberg invests in his marking of performance indications. This passage represents a moderately marked example, typical of the notation of much of the rest of Op. 23, already replete with articulation, dynamic, tempo and character indications. Six different articulations can be found in as many measures:  98  unmarked notes, staccato, caret accents, accent-staccato, sforzando-staccato and sforzando-caret. These markings operate within a contextual dynamic ranging from pp to fff. Adding to the refinement and complexity, the articulations themselves must each also graded contextually by the written length of the note they modify. For example, a staccato, placed over an eighth-note would need to be shorter than a staccato over a quarter-note. Let us consider how each of these markings operates in the context of these opening measures. The first gesture begins pianissimo with a crescendo leading to a sforzando-caret accent in the right hand. In contrast, the left hand has a staccatoaccent on the final note and no initial dynamic or crescendo. As intuitively tempting as it might be to use the damper (right) pedal to reinforce the crescendo in the right hand, two problems arise from its application here. First, the crescendo is not present in the left hand. This may seem a small detail since the overall impression is inevitably going to be of a crescendo, but significant in that this first small crescendo is preparing a larger structural build-up that should not peak too early; the left-hand dynamic should be ducked under that of the right hand. The second problem with using pedal here is the accuracy of the release of the last note of this measure. If the pedal were used, the difference between the lengths of the sf and the staccato-accent would be lost as the pedal release would apply indiscriminately to the material in both hands. While the symbols in each hand do not prescribe absolute duration modifiers or accentuation profiles, they serve here as comparative markings,  99  requiring the right hand note to be heard alone for the briefest moment after the shorter note in the left hand has released. We know that where necessary, Schoenberg does not hesitate to add ohne Pedale markings in his score, but markings such as this, demanding precisely differentiated terminations serve much the same function. Eliminating the damper pedal for the first few measures serves to benefit the highly detailed notation, as well as the dynamic gradation of the passage as a whole. I advocate saving use of the pedal until the middle of the third measure, first to bring out the smaller crescendi under the paired sixteenth-notes, then changing on each of the chords in m. 4, before a final change at the downbeat of m. 5. It only remains to further justify the importance of differentiating note-releases within Schoenberg’s polyphonic texture. Because I am not trained in the physiology of hearing and perception I can only attest from personal experience and experimentation that the ear can perceive the slightest moment of silence, even within a complex musical texture.73 As a harpsichordist as well as a pianist, I am keenly aware that these microscopic silences and articulations are the primary means of playing expressively and clarifying voice-leading in polyphonic textures. The same technique can apply just as easily to the piano, though few pianists make regular use of it to the same  73  Interestingly enough, this still holds valid in a resonant space. Even though there may be no pure silence, the drop in resonance of a note when its key is released and damper engaged serves the same articulative function.  100  extent as on the harpsichord. While we are speaking here exclusively of music for the piano, the textures found in Schoenberg’s writing require a much more sophisticated approach to articulation and micro-silences. At the downbeat of m. 5 for example, Schoenberg uses unmarked chords of different durations in each hand simultaneously create both a join and break between the point of arrival at the fff and the continuation into the next phrase. The precise differentiation in the release of each of these chords focuses the listener on the continuation of the phrase in the right hand as it holds through, while heightening the expectation for a new event in the left hand by means of a short separation.  Measures 7-9 Measure 7 constitutes a compound gesture of its own, and it presents an abrupt change in character from the opening, accomplished through softer dynamics, legato touch, metric freedom and special pedal effects – Schoenberg's take on the Eusebius character. This measure is an ideal candidate for Schoenberg’s hint from the Preface that “the soft pedal will often be found useful.” It may not be at all evident on a first hearing that this measure presents the same row of nine pitches that began the piece. Certainly the extremely low register makes hearing this relationship difficult, and the earlier insistent, heavily accented presentation is replaced by one that is quiet and rhythmically free (see Example 5.4).  101  Example 5.4 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/2, m. 7  In isolation, m. 7 is of particular interest for the purposes of understanding Schoenberg's performing indications as it contains Schoenberg’s only notated damper pedal marking in this movement. He indicates that the pedal is to be depressed at the C#2, the last note of the opening 9-note set, and the emerging referential pitch for the movement as a whole. At the apex of that ascent of two consecutive triplet-sixteenth groups, the accumulated sonority under the pedal is that of a hexachord built from two stacked [014] trichords, perfectly symmetrical around D3, with the C#2 as its bass note. There is a caesura after the Eb4, reinforcing the release of the hands from the notes of the arpeggiated chord, but not the pedal which Schoenberg indicates should be held. This gives time to prepare the hands for the ppp chord, a transposition of the previous chord up a semitone (and an octave). This second chord is played almost imperceptibly in the background of the sustaining pedal sonority, after which the pedal is then released with the hands remaining on this quiet chord, eliminating the  102  arpeggiated chord from the resonance. This leaves only the decay of the ppp chord to emerge from the collected pedal resonance. This very specific pedal technique is borrowed directly from Schumann’s Carnaval, Op. 9. In Example 5.5 (in F minor, 4-flats in key signature not shown), we can see a passage from ‘Paganini’ where Schumann hammers out four sf tonic F minor chords. In this mass of sound, an E-flat dominant seventh chord is played ppp, signaling a change of key to the relative major. The precisely notated release of the pedal allows for the decay of the seventh chord to bloom from the sound as the pedal is released.  Example 5.5 – Schumann, Carnaval, Op. 9, ‘Paganini’, mm. 35-37  While the effect is essentially the same, Schoenberg and Schumann notate this effect slightly differently. Schumann, in order to be absolutely clear about the order of events, uses small grace-notes before the beat, with a pedal-end sign clearly  103  situated after the ppp chord has been struck, as well as a second pedal marking to recapture its resonance.74 Schoenberg’s sketch of m. 7 shown below in Example 5.6 contains pedal markings nearly identical to the Schumann passage, with two separate pedal markings.  Example 5.6 – Schoenberg, Op. 23/2, m. 7 (sketch version)  In the printed version of this passage, Schoenberg removes the second pedal marking, replacing it with unbound ties leading from the notes of the held chord under the fermata. These ties extending indeterminately beyond the written length of held sonorities are used often in piano music to indicate where the damper pedal should be used to sustain the sounds. Particularly in the piano music of Debussy, who did not typically write pedal markings, these markings nevertheless indicate clearly where the pedal must be used. It is therefore highly plausible that these ties are indeed a way for Schoenberg to mark the use of the pedal. As mentioned in  74  As discussed in Chapter 3 above, there is the possibility of creating a slight crescendo on a held note or chord when the pedal is added slowly after it has been struck. Schumann adds a reinforcing marking of his own with the hairpins on the second chord describing this subtle effect.  104  Chapter 3, there is a significant difference in the amount of overall resonance if the pedal captures the moment of attack compared with only the decay of a note or chord. I believe Schoenberg is creating a distinction by using this convention, clarifying a pedal that captures only the decay of a chord and not its attack. In addition, the use of these two different pedal markings ensures that the second marking will not be incorrectly interpreted. The most common type of pedaling in piano literature is the afterbeat or delayed pedal. This involves changing immediately after a new tone or chord in order to create the effect of a seamless legato. This type of pedaling here would certainly ruin the delicate special effect that Schoenberg wants in this passage. There are significant differences between the sketched version of m. 7 (Example 5.6) and the final version (Example 5.4) in both pitch content, dynamic and rhythmic notation, showing the evolution of Schoenberg’s formal and notational concept for the passage. Notice that the sketched series of pitches (D-E-C#-F-Ab-EG-B-C#) leading up to the C#2 at the start of the pedal indication is not the opening 9-note series that begins the movement. The unity provided by the material of the opening measure was a part of how this piece evolved, and this passage was incorporated into that plan after its basic outline had been sketched. The original dynamic indication was fff with a crescendo to the Eb3 before the caesura, with the change to a quiet dynamic coming only on the release of the pedal. This original version connects the first half of the measure in character with the preceding  105  material. The final version makes it clear that this is the start of a new variation on the main idea of the piece, beginning as it does with the untransposed series of pitch classes from the opening. It is also interesting to compare Schoenberg’s rhythmic notation of the fast notes from the sketch to the final version. The specificity of the rhythmic notation in the latter makes little room for the frei that Schoenberg indicates if both the change in note-value from 32nd-notes to triplet sixteenth-notes and the subsequent accelerando are to be properly executed. The frei then presumably has more to do with the character of the passage and the contrast with the previous section than a prescription for ad libitum performance.75 The final version of this measure includes a restatement of the opening material, transformed into a completely new character. The remainder of this section (mm. 8-9) continues with a recast version of the pitch material from the continuation of the first section (mm. 5-6) now interpreted through this contrasting Eusebian character. The two distinct sections, paralleling one another in pitch content, use every means possible to create contrast in the means of their presentation. The passage is meticulously marked with articulations, dynamics and accents reinforcing this contrast. Seven different articulation  75  To maintain the subtle control over the timing required in this passage, I recommend playing the Bflat with the right hand to avoid an excessive stretch or crossing of fingers in the left hand. With only two small exceptions, the hand distribution suggested by the two staves is the most logical and comfortable throughout: 1. The right hand in the second half-note beat of m. 8 is best taken with the left hand (discussed further below) 2. The first off-beat chord in m. 19 is best taken in the left hand.  106  combinations within dynamic contexts as quiet as pppp appear in this short passage, and creating these subtle differences in performance is no easy task.76 The repeated tenuto markings on the left hand material serve to ensure clarity in the extremely low register as well as to reinforce along with the pp dynamic the Hauptstimme role of this material within the texture. These notes must not sound legato, or become muddied with the slightest damper pedal resonance, but should be lengthened as much as possible while still maintaining a slight detachment one to the next. In contrast, the marked staccato in the right hand must be ‘light and elastic’ as Schoenberg suggests in the preface, getting only the lightest brush of the keys with an almost immediate release. This is reinforced by the corresponding ppp dynamic marking. The comparative nature of these markings must be made clear particularly where the two hands have simultaneous onsets. For example, the Gb1 in the left hand must be given sufficient length to be heard on its own after the right hand trichord is released. In the second half-note pulse of m. 8, while the left hand continues in tenuto triplet quarter-notes, the right hand presents a much more sophisticated articulation profile. The trichord is marked with a tenuto and is slurred to the following F#2, which has an additional staccato-accent. These markings all  76  In order to obtain the differentiation of articulation required, one might be tempted to work with each voice separately. This is certainly good practice to a point, but the comparative nature of these markings can only be appropriately related within the full texture.  107  operate within the prevailing ppp dynamic for the right hand, as the small crescendo and decrescendo markings between the staves only apply to the left hand material, reinforcing its melodic contour. I have mentioned earlier in this paper that Schoenberg gives no guidance on the execution of articulation markings incorporated under a legato slur. Since consistency is not to be found in such markings, their interpretation as reinforcing or comparative markings rather than prescriptive is important to reiterate. Here Schoenberg has reinforced the long-note versus the short-note of the written note values. If the tenuto has any prescriptive meaning in this context is could be as an agogic accent, emphasizing the syncopated nature of the right hand chord. The technical difficulty here lies in creating the legato slur from the trichord to the F#2, while maintaining the consistent tenuto attacks in the left hand. The trichord occupies the entire right hand while it holds, and without finger substitution on the Bb2 (requiring the D3/B3 to be released early) or use of the damper pedal (which would ruin the clarity of the left hand), the low F#2 cannot be reached legato. A fortunate solution comes with a redistribution of this F#2 to the left hand, which will already be holding the nearby F2 (likely with the thumb). The LH2 can easily pass over the held thumb and strike the F#2 with a tapping articulation that achieves shortness as well as the small amount of emphasis indicated by the accent. Carefully timing the release of the right hand chord to just after this F#2 has been played by the left hand will result in a convincing legato slur between the two hands.  108  Let us move now to the third half-note of this bar; notice the arrival on the C#2 in the left hand. Schoenberg keeps highlighting this pitch class as a structural bass note throughout this piece, and here this importance is reinforced by the tenuto-sforzando marking and the use of the unbound slur extending from this double-stemmed note. Here again I believe this to be a pedal indication, with the damper pedal being depressed immediately after the attack of the C#2. The right hand dynamic is decreased to pppp as it will now be struck under the open resonance of the damper pedal. The Hauptstimme now moves to the top staff in the fourth beat of m. 8 beginning with the F#2. This note is marked with a p dynamic, with a brief crescendo as it moves to the LH trichord, growing to f for the RH trichord on the downbeat of m. 9. In order to effect the forte in this passage but still maintain the prevailing character, I believe this dynamic should be contextualized to a più forte as opposed to a generalized ‘loud’. If, in addition, the soft pedal is employed throughout this section this dynamic peak will be properly contextualized within the character of the whole phrase. In this way the entire second section of this movement maintains a consistent character throughout, distinctly contrasting the opening section while presenting the same pitch materials.  109  Since the two characters are so clearly differentiated in the opening of this piece, each getting its own separate presentation of the musical idea, let us establish now the defining features of each before moving on into the discussion of the remainder of the piece. Schoenberg’s Florestan is identifiable by a prevalence for duple groupings, angular and disjointed motion of parts, extreme dynamic swells up to the loudest possible on the instrument, metrical conflict, detached articulation and sharp dynamic accents. In contrast, Schoenberg’s Eusebius favours compound triple subdivisions, smooth and legato motion, quiet dynamics with very limited swells as well as relative metrical stability within a tempo rubato. The contrast of these characters, clearly defined in these opening sections, guides the formal resolution and structure of the rest of the piece.  Measures 10-14 The next section begins with a third presentation of the untransposed pitch material from the opening measure, now as hand-alternating dyads, repeated, transposed and sequenced before culminating in another fff dynamic peak. The use of exact sequence and repetition here is unusual for Schoenberg, as is the interval of transposition, each time up a perfect fifth. Certainly this is a deliberate nod on Schoenberg's part to the tonal technique of sequencing around the circle of fifths. The character here returns to the stormy Florestan of the opening presentation, quiet again at first, but building in agitation throughout. The return of this character comes again with its associated incongruity with the notated metre. Each iteration of  110  the material as it is transposed occupies 5 sixteenth-notes, shifting one sixteenth away from the notated beat each time. Nevertheless, the first note (C#) of the section begins on a notated beat, as does the first accent-staccato marking. This immediately throws a sense of destabilization into the felt metre caused by the ambiguity of initiating and terminating functions within each iteration of the gesture. Schoenberg visually reinforces that the groups of five are not meant to be stabilized and regular by breaking the beaming on each group. Had he wanted a stronger contradiction with the notated metre, he could have beamed these groups accordingly (as in the left hand in mm. 5-6) or used his accentuation markings (as in m. 3). While the beaming in m. 10 is irregular, it does not cross the notated metrical boundaries of the beat or barline, leaving only the regularly spaced staccato-accent markings to create a grouping dissonance. It is the performer’s task to create the ambiguity and conflict of this grouping against the prevailing notated metre. Schoenberg seems to sense the point at which the groupings of 5 sixteenthnotes have the potential to become metrical as this growing tension against the metre builds along with the crescendo. After three complete iterations of the sequence, the grouping breaks in the third beat of m. 11, with irregular sf emphasis markings replacing the accent-staccato. The beaming here regularizes, as does the alternation of the hands; the sequence of material continues, with the dyads now expanding to sixths and sevenths rather than thirds and seconds. Nevertheless, the two sforzandi in m. 12 mark points of interest, altering the grouping further and  111  breaking the established interval of transposition. They also reposition the accent from the last note of each iteration to the first, creating an additional stutter against any growing sense of regularity. There is a middle-ground polyphonic line which can be heard by tracing the accents in the bass starting at m. 10. While these are regularly spaced, they remain in the texture: heard but not necessarily highlighted. The more irregular their placement becomes, the more their interest is heightened, creating as it does a type of erratic polyphony. This method of focusing interest on a middle-ground line is a feature that can be seen often in Schumann's piano works. The passage shown below in Example 5.7 is from the middle section of the first piece in Kreisleriana, and shows his use of unusual placement of accents (shown in the boxes) to colour an unexpected chromatic motion of an inner voice, given salience through its placement against the notated metre.  112  Example 5.7 – Schumann, Kreisleriana, Op. 9/1, mm. 30-41  In Schoenberg’s passage, he seeks to highlight the change in grouping and transposition, in addition to shifting the function of the accented tones within the iterations from the final note to the first. The frustration of all of this ambiguity and irregularity peaks in another fff outburst in m. 13; this time even exceeding the climax of the first section with an additional crescendo to the downbeat of m. 14. The continuation material of mm. 5-6 only makes an abbreviated return here, balancing the length of this section against the opening two sections, lengthened as it was by the sequencing of the opening 9-note set. The characteristic Florestanian features of the opening presentation dominate this section throughout, and as listeners we might expect a parallel section in the Eusebian character to follow.  113  Measures 14-23 The next presentation of the untransposed opening material comes in the second beat of m. 14, continuing the hand-alternating dyads from the previous section. While this section starts quietly and more tentatively, the rapid crescendo mirrors again the opening presentation with all the features of the Florestan character. At this point in the piece, the two characters have been juxtaposed, but have not interacted at all. The Florestan character has dominated the start of three of the four presentation phrases. What follows the dynamic peak in m. 18 of this section, however, is not a continuation of the one character or an abrupt change to another, but the beginning of a synthesis of elements from both. This process is brought about through the gradual dissolution of characteristic Florestanian features as the piece draws to its conclusion. The long winding-down of dynamic, register and tempo that continues to the end of the piece is reinforced, in characteristic fashion, by a corresponding gradation of articulation that slowly morphs to the quiet and legato Eusebian character. Three distinct elements make up the texture in the section from m. 18: the outer voices alternate between slurred quarter-note triplets and a three-note upbeat figure in eighth-notes; the middle voice throughout accompanies with short, off-beat ‘shot’ chords. These chords involve a progression of articulation markings from sforzando-accent-staccato → sforzando-staccato → accent-staccato → staccato. We see a similar pattern in the upbeat eight-note figure from caret accent → tenuto →  114  slur (legato). These carefully graded accent and articulation combinations reinforce the decrease in dynamic and tempo in this passage, while providing a clear comparative spectrum for interpretation for these same markings elsewhere in the piece. The progression from shorter, more sharply accented articulations to longer, weaker articulations continues until the left hand in m. 20 where Schoenberg marks non-legato. This change to a detached articulation is implied by the unmarked notes, but Schoenberg reinforces this with a marking to ensure that the return of the opening material is heard again, with only the slightest suggestion of the agitated character that marked the opening remaining. This dissipates fully as the movement draws to a close with one final statement, now divided among two completely legato voices in counterpoint. A relic of the accompanying voice in the opening measure, the C#/Db is played twice in this final statement. Its use here and throughout the piece as a prominent bass-note and pedal-point give it a unique function in advancing the structural narrative similar to that described by Schoenberg in his definition of the musical idea: Every tone which is added to a beginning tone makes the meaning of that tone doubtful. If, for instance, G follows after C, the ear may not be sure whether this expresses C major or G major, or even F major or E minor; and the addition of other tones may or may not clarify this problem. In this manner there is produced a state of unrest or imbalance which grows throughout most of the piece and is  115  enforced further by similar functions of the rhythm. The method by which balance is restored seems to me the real idea of the composition.”77  This description points, I believe, to one of the larger-scale formal procedures at work within this piece. Before discussing this and other formal considerations, let us briefly treat the issue of tempo in this movement to help establish the parameters and proportions for a larger discussion of form.  Tempo Figuring out just how various tempo modifications work together within a piece and choosing initial tempos that allow all of these relationships to become clear is always a challenge in Schoenberg’s works. As demonstrated in Chapter 4, the more these can be approached as descriptive rather than prescriptive, the more likely they are to integrate into a comprehensible whole. He uses a wide variety of tempo markings, requiring both sudden and gradual modifications to tempo, and the degree to which any one modifier operates must be carefully graded according to context. The opening of the second piece is marked Sehr rasch (Viertel) [Very quick quarter-notes], with the added indication heftig [heavy] over the right hand. The chosen tempo then must simultaneously portray both aspects of this conflicted Eusebian character. There is no specific metronome marking, and thankfully for  116  performers, Schoenberg abandoned his initial marking of quarter-note equals 152 found in the sketches of this movement.78 The first modifier comes in m. 3: poco pesante - - -. This indication has trailing dashes indicating where the slowing is to end, and presumably the prevailing tempo should resume despite the missing a tempo. Interpretation of the measure marked frei has been discussed above, but the section that follows marked etwas ruhiger im Ausdruck [somewhat quieter in the expression] requires interpretation in this context. The grammar in the marking is referential rather than absolute, but it is unclear to which tempo it refers: the opening Sehr rasch or the frei. The same problem accompanies the langsamer beginnend [beginning more slowly] two measures later and the etwas langsamer [somewhat slower] in m. 14 following an accelerando and molto ritardando. Despite the inconsistency and unclear point of reference, what is clear is that Schoenberg wants an organic and flexible approach to tempo in this movement which is not necessarily quantifiable. As long as the resulting solution serves to reinforce the expression of the character and make clear the points of contrast, the interpretation can be considered valid.  78  The quarter-note in brackets with no attached metronome marking is a curious indication; presumably it merely reinforces along with the time signature that tempo applies to the quarter-note pulse.  117  What remains perplexing is Schoenberg's careful indications of duration equivalence ratios at nearly every change of notated metre and how these affect the tempo. At points where the material of one metre relates in a very straightforward way to the next, such as the joins between mm. 1-2, 2-3, 3-4 and 4-5, these markings are merely reinforcing, acting as cautionary information signs. At more complex joins, their meaning is less clear and possibly even misleading. In m. 8, the basic pulse-unit changes to half-notes, a detail already notated with the change to 4/2 time. Why then does Schoenberg add the half-note equals half-note ratio above this barline? Contextually, the feeling of tempo is somewhat suspended following the frei measure with its fermata. The tempo is modified further with the etwas ruhiger im Ausdruck marking. The nature of the subdivisions in m. 8, with quarter-note triplets forming a compound metre bears little resemblance to the opening material. With all these changes, I would argue there is no way to perceive the durational relationship indicated in this ratio, and that the marking itself is thus open to misinterpretation. In m. 10, a similar ratio is expressed with two quarter-notes equal to one halfnote ‘des Grundmaßes’ [of the basic tempo]. Again, tempo relationships represented in such a mathematical way conflict with the subjective textual modifiers of the langsamer beginnend and the preceding ritardando. As in m. 8, I cannot offer any satisfying explanation for this marking or what it is precisely trying to clarify in this  118  passage. Here, what is essentially a reinforcing marking has the potential to mislead the interpreter. A similar ratio which I find to be misleading appears over the join of mm. 1718. Here again I do not believe this marking to indicate a mathematical durational relationship across this barline, but only a reinforcement that the quarter note does not suddenly equal the half-note or vice versa. Attempts to relate this join in mathematical terms are self-defeating as the perception of these intended relationships would be subservient to the more salient features of the musical foreground. The last three notes in the right hand of m. 17 are marked with caret accents as upbeats to the arrival on a following beat. This figure is repeated with matching articulations and contour, but notated in different note values in m. 18, becoming motivic through the rest of mm. 18-19. The new metre at m. 18, in my opinion, indicates only how the material is to be regrouped within the metre and not how the specific note-durations are to relate in an absolute sense. In this way the Pesante then transforms organically into the allmählich langsamer werden, which is the beginning of an uninterrupted process that carries through to the end of the movement, dissolving away elements of the Florestan character in favour of the Eusebius. A ratio appears in m. 20, seeming at first to be another reinforcing marking. Here, however, there is an added note that suggests a logical interpretational possibility that might otherwise be missed. The bracketed indication des letzten  119  Taktes [of the previous measure] allows for a potential equivalence across this join of the triplet quarter-note in m. 19 with the normal quarter note in m. 20. This join again presents a regrouping of the material within the metrical organization of the bar, but not an absolute ratio of durations. As the half-note pulse in mm. 18-19 is divided into triplets throughout, the normal quarter note is never a salient pulse stream. Relating its duration to the normal quarter note of m. 20 (with a 3:2 ratio) would result in an immediate 33% decrease in the rate of attack across this join, sounding like a sudden drop in tempo within the gradual process of slowing begun in m. 18. Relating the triplet-quarter to the new quarter makes this join seamless, and allows the resulting metrical regrouping to function as a hemiola, all within the continuous slowing of the allmählich langsamer werden.  Form The piece is the shortest of the five, with only 23 measures of music and timing out at around a minute and a half to perform. Several formal schemes seem to be at work simultaneously through this piece. The most apparent is the organization based on the opposition of the Florestanian and Eusebian characters and the resolution of their conflict through the final section of the piece. There is also a structure that is sectionalized, though attempts to ascribing traditional formal function to the various sections separate the heard form from the notated form.  120  Kathryn Bailey posits, “In spite of its eccentricities the movement...is without a doubt in sonata form. But the listener does not hear this.”79 And later, “the sound of this movement contradicts its structure.”80 While Bailey provides a reasoned argument based on presentation and return of pitch materials, such separation of the notated structure from the heard structure renders the association with sonata-form somewhat impotent. The conventions of sonata-form exist to guide a listener through a large-scale structure, and while I do not disagree that this piece shares certain similar patterns in the organization of pitch material, attaching sonata-form labels adds false gravitas to the found relationships and robs some of the sophistication of the form as it is both heard and notated. Keeping to labels which are descriptive of both form and function, we can simultaneously describe heard form and notated form in non-contradictory terms. The piece distills to a series of sections, each beginning with a varied but untransposed presentation of the pitch material from the opening measure. This basic structure resembles then a set of variations, with its balanced sections each beginning with the untransposed ‘theme’ of the basic 9-note set. The continuation of each section varies in response to the manner of the presentation, recasting at least some of the material from the first variation. For example, the pitch material from mm. 5-6 is recast in the second variation in mm. 8-9. In contrast, the next variation  79 80  Bailey, Composing With Tones, p. 56. Bailey, p. 56.  121  beginning at m. 10 first develops and sequences the opening material before concluding with highly abbreviated nod to the contents of mm. 5-6 in m. 13. Nevertheless, variation form does not completely describe the sophisticated structures that are heard in this piece. As it is inherently iterative, relying on juxtaposition of sections to develop its materials, it has the potential to continue ad infinitum. In Op. 23/2 the variation form is given a dialectic arch through the contrasted presentation and eventual synthesis of the Florestan and Eusebius characters. Despite our very different perspectives on the form of the piece, Bailey and I are in complete agreement when she says: “For the listener contrast is surely the most important means of articulating form.”81 Rather than contradicting one another, the synthesis of variation form and dialectic form points to a feature of Schoenberg’s approach to form that is difficult to represent with traditional charts and diagrams. Here we have two heard forms at work simultaneously, one through-composed and moving forward through time, the other referential, bringing back material and relating it to what has been previously heard. Schoenberg manages somehow to make us aware of both forms simultaneously. Attempts to force sonata-form labels and functions or any other type of conventional tonal form onto Schoenberg’s music tend to miss this unique  81  Bailey, p. 56.  122  refinement as they prioritize the referential form as a means for comprehending large-scale structures despite their unfolding through time. As demonstrated through the discussion of the individual sections of the piece, operating through all these other formal structures is the recurrence and pitch stability of the C# heard as the first and last note of the movement. While I make no claim that this C# functions as a tonic, Schoenberg’s own broadened concept of tonality certainly accommodates the notion of a single tone functioning as a reference throughout an entire piece. “[Tonality] coincides to a certain extent with that of the key, in so far as it refers not merely to the relation of the tones with one another, but much more to the particular way in which all tones relate to a fundamental tone, especially the fundamental tone of the scale, whereby tonality is always comprehended in the sense of a particular scale.”82 I hear in this movement a similar type of centricity existing through the referential stability and structural articulation of the C#/Db throughout.  82  Arnold Schoenberg, “Problems of Harmony” in Style and Idea, p. 270.  123  Conclusion As the structure of this document came together, certain parallels to the content of Schoenberg’s Op. 23 became apparent. While some of these are banal and coincidental, such as the use of five chapters to discuss the five pieces in Op. 23, there are more intrinsic correspondences. The transcription of musical concepts and ideas, whether in prose or notation, requires a highly detailed treatment if it is to engage the subtlety and nuance of musical performance. In this way, a study of the interpretational and notational challenges in Schoenberg’s music must investigate even the smallest of its details. I have made a case for the descriptive approach to Schoenberg’s notation, and I make the same request for the application of the materials in this document. This work is not meant as a prescriptive and exacting performance guide, even in those sections where the results necessarily suggest a preference of one interpretation or execution over another. The integrated fingering solutions presented in Chapter 3, for example, form the most overtly prescriptive section in this document. Nevertheless, the examples are presented more to underscore the underlying strategies and methodology than to prescribe an exact and invariable solution that will work for every performer. The categorizations I have developed for Schoenberg’s markings also apply to the contents of this document. The comparative approach has been applied here to contextualize the interpretation of the notation, and to lend malleability to the performance strategies applied to particular passages in Op. 23. The conclusions  124  reached here regarding specific passages can be applied through comparative analogy to the remainder of the five pieces, across Schoenberg’s other piano works, and even into the works of his contemporaries who share his highly detailed and descriptive notational style. The comparative distinction also acknowledges the changing meanings of musical symbols throughout the course of music history. In order to be properly understood, these meanings should be studied within their historical context and its prevalent notational conventions, whether they follow along with or react against these conventions. In this way, the comparative approach situates this document as part of the broader discourse of historical performance practice. This field has already thoroughly examined the evolution of musical symbols through the earliest centuries of Western Classical music and is already rapidly moving to encompass the music of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Much of what I have discussed in this document can be considered reinforcing, often serving to articulate and support interpretive conclusions that can be drawn from musical intuition alone. Through this correlation between the results of detailed discussion and simple musical intuition the internal logic of the composition of Op. 23 is confirmed and the validity of the interpretation can be verified. The balance of comparative and reinforcing elements in this study seeks to avoid two main interpretive pitfalls: the first is one that relies on performer’s intuition alone, without detailed engagement with the notation; the second is a  125  highly literal approach, seeking primarily to bring out structural relationships and demonstrate transformations of pitch materials. Performer’s intuition is certainly an important element, but the generalized and surface-level result of such an approach is completely detrimental in Schoenberg’s music, obliterating any hope of comprehension of the musical ideas. The latter approach, however, is equally disastrous, robbing the music of its subtle emotional and intellectual interplay, where comparative details give purpose to structural elements. While the scope of this study allowed for suitably detailed treatment of a number of topics, there is always more that can be said and discussed. There are many more areas to explore, and a much greater depth to Op. 23 than I could hope to elucidate here. Particularly in the phenomenological area of rhythm and metre, I could only scratch the surface of some of the larger issues and complexities at play. As the Wilhelm Hansen copyright expires later in this decade, and the Op. 23 pieces gain more freedoms in their publication, it is likely that new editions will be made to include Op. 23 in Schoenberg’s complete piano works. The Wiener Urtext collection of Schoenberg’s piano music, as an ‘Urtext’ edition, seeks primarily to present the notation in the most clear and correct way possible. This clear version of the text is further supplemented with prefatory remarks and detailed interpretive information, providing an invaluable resource to the performer. Using this as a model, the widest application of the contents of this document would be to distill  126  them into a similar preface to a future scholarly edition of Op. 23, or to expand their scope to encompass the complete piano works of Schoenberg. This study contributes to the recent trend to integrate performance practice issues into the wider scholarly discourse in music. I strongly believe the performance practice field creates the most balanced framework for discussing historical music, by actively including the performer-scholar as an essential agent in the synthesis of elements from the highly specialized academic disciplines of musicology and theoretical analysis.  127  Works Cited Bailey, Kathryn. ‘Composing with Tones’: A Musical Analysis of Schoenberg’s Op. 23 Pieces for Piano. London: Royal Music Association, 2001. Beaumont, Antony (Ed./Trans.). "The Schoenberg-Busoni Correspondence 19031919." Ferruccio Busoni: Selected Letters. London/Boston: Faber and Faber, 1987. 379-423. Bernnat, Andreas. "Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23." Arnold Schönberg: Interpretationen seiner Werke. Ed. Gerold Gruber. Vol. 1. Laaber: LaaberVerlag, 2002. 333-352. Brinkmann, Reinhold. "Preface and Critical Notes." Schönberg, Arnold. Ausgewählte Klaviermusik (Selected Piano Music). Vienna: Wiener Urtext Edition, 1995. 11-16, 81-88. Dünki, Jean-Jacques. Schönbergs Zeichen: Wege zur Interpretation seiner Klaviermusik. Vienna: Verlag Lafite, 2006. Haimo, Ethan. Schoenberg’s Serial Odyssey: The Evolution of his Twelve-Tone Method, 1914-1928. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990. Heneghan, Áine. "Schönbergs Zeichen: Wege zur Interpretation seiner Klaviermusik, by Jean-Jacques Dünki." Notes: Quarterly Journal of the Music Library Association June 1997: 864-866. Review.  128  Kurth, Richard. "Pierrot lunaire: persona, voice, and the fabric of allusion." The Cambridge Companion to Schoenberg. Ed. Jennifer Shaw and Joseph Auner. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. 120-134. Petree, Katherine Frances. "Performance Practices in the Piano Music of Arnold Schoenberg." DMA Dissertation. University of Kansas, 1986. Read, Gardner. Music Notation: A Manual of Modern Practice. London: Gollancz, 1974. Roggenkamp, Peter. "Interpreting Schönberg at the Piano and Detailed Notes on Interpretation." Schönberg, Arnold. Ausgewählte Klaviermusik (Selected Piano Music). Vienna: Wiener Urtext Edition, 1995. 87-93. Rosenblum, Sandra. Performance Practices in Classic Piano Music: Their Principles and Applications. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1988. Schoenberg, Arnold. Ausgewählte Klaviermusik. Vienna: Wiener Urtext Edition, 1995. —. Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, Op. 42. New York/London: G. Schirmer, 1944. —. Fünf Klavierstücke, Op. 23. Copenhagen: Wilhelm Hansen Edition, 1951.  129  —. Style and Idea: Selected Writings of Arnold Schoenberg. Ed. Leonard Stein. London: Faber and Faber, 1984. —. The Musical Idea and the Logic, Technique and Art of Its Presentation. Ed. Patricia Carpenter and Severine Neff. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006. —. Werke für Klavier zu zwei Händen: Kritischer Bericht, Skizzen, Fragmente. Ed. Reinhold Brinkmann. Mainz/Vienna: B. Schott's Söhne/Universal Edition AG, 1975. Schönberg: Sämtliche Werke: Abteilung II, Reihe B, Band 4. Simms, Bryan. The Atonal Music of Arnold Schoenberg: 1908-1923. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000. Stein, Erwin, ed. Arnold Schoenberg Letters. Trans. Eithne Wilkins and Ernst Kaiser. London: Faber and Faber, 1964. Stein, Leonard. "Die Braune Sauce: The Significance of the Pedal in Schoenbergs Piano Music." Festskrift Jan Maegaard 14.4.1996. Ed. Mogens Anderson, Claus Rllum-Larsen and Niels Bo Foltmann. Denmark: Engstrm & Sdring Kbenhavn, 1996. 111-115. Steuermann, Edward. The Not Quite Innocent Bystander: Writings of Edward Steuermann. Ed. David Porter, Clara Steuermann and Gunther Schuller.  130  Trans. Richard Cornwell and Charles Messner. Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1989. Sühring, Peter. "Der gerissene Faden: Schönberg als Gegenstand historischer Aufführungspraxis - Überlegungen nach einer Berliner Tagung (5./6.2.2009)." Concerto: Das Magazin für alte Musik April/May 2009: 5-6. Zukofsky, Paul. "Schoenberg for Performers: the Prequel." Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 15.1 (1992): 160-175.  131  

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