Week 10 Reading

Classical Music

In the second half of the 18th century visual and literary artists sought to capture the
ideals of the ancient Greeks and Romans. We call their art “Neo-Classical” because it
consciously models Greek and Roman, or “Classical” art. But Greek and Roman music
disappeared after the fall of Rome, and it was the 20th century before any actual written
examples of Greek music was discovered and deciphered so that it could be played and
heard. As we have seen, painters, sculptors, architects, authors, and playwrights could look
at actual examples of their art that came from classical times and imitate it in their own
work. But musicians could not. All that they could do was read about it and try to make
their music do what the Greeks said theirs did. Hence we call music of this period not “Neo-
Classical,” but simply “Classical.”

Nevertheless, just like other artists of the 18th century were influenced by Greek ideals of
form and balance, so did musicians seek to emulate these ideals in their compositions. The
gaudy ornamentation of the Baroque era was reduced to a few simple decorations. The
complex polyphony of the Baroque became a less-dense, more homophonic style. The
harmonies were simplified and the rate of chord change (called harmonic rhythm) was
slowed down. Phrases tended to be of equal length. Everything became simpler and more
straightforward. As the pendulum swung from the Dionysian Baroque to the Apollonian
Classical, so did music shift away from dramatic expression toward an emphasis on form.

By the end of the Baroque era, most operas began with a short instrumental work called an
overture, or sinfonia. These sinfonias, or symphonies, grew into independent, multiple-
movement works that became the most important genre of the Classical era. Most
symphonies had four movements. The first movement was often the longest and most
involved, and was usually in a form called sonata allegro (see below). The second
movement was usually slow, and was often some form of theme and variations. The third
movement was a three-part dance number, usually a minuet (a stately, formal dance) or a
scherzo (a fast, light-hearted dance—scherzo is Italian for “joke”). The fourth movement
was usually fast and light-hearted, and featured another sonata-allegro form or one of
several other forms popular during the era.

Symphonies were written for full orchestra, but there were smaller genres that featured
these forms as well. Sonatas were written for solo instruments, chamber music (especially
the string quartet) was popular, and the concerto flourished. Opera and other choral and
vocal music was also popular in the day, and was influenced by the same forms and styles
popular in instrumental music. The three most famous composers of the Classical period
all worked and resided in Vienna, Austria: Joseph Haydn (1732-1809) wrote over 100
symphonies and was considered the master of the genre. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
(1756-1791) was best known for his piano concertos and operas. Ludwig van Beethoven
(1770-1827) stretched the boundaries of the Classical style with his immense and complex
symphonies, concertos, piano works, and chamber music. Haydn and Mozart were
contemporaries and good friends who played together in a string quartet. As a young
composer Beethoven left his native Bonn, Germany, to study with Mozart, but by the time
he arrived in Vienna Mozart had died, so Beethoven studied with Haydn instead.

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A good example of the theme and variations is found in the second movement of Haydn’s
“Surprise” symphony. Haydn spent most of his long career in the employ of the Esterhazys,
a Hungarian family that spent the most of their time in Vienna. The Esterhazys were avid
lovers of music and employed one of the finest orchestras in Europe. Haydn always
managed to stay true to the Classical forms, and yet each of his works are unique, creative,
and filled with humor.

Joseph Haydn

Haydn was always aware of the limitations of his audience, and he knew that after a long
and complex first movement, people’s attention started to wander in the slower, more
peaceful second movement. This piece is Haydn’s joke on them. But it is also a fine
example of his consummate mastery of the theme and variation technique. The trick is to
keep the tune apparent so everyone can hear it each time it is repeated, but not to let it get
repetitive or boring.

LISTEN TO HAYDN, SYMPHONY #94 in G Major (SURPRISE),

SECOND MOVEMENT
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6IUKNWo-Ww

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The tune is a simple parallel period: one phrase asks the question, then another gives the
answer. The first phrase is played then repeated (#1) at a softer volume (surprise!), then
the second phrase (#2) is also played twice. Notice that everything is simple, uniform, and
balanced. The first variation (#3) starts with the surprise, then adds a countermelody in the
violins.

Now at this point if this were all that Haydn was going to do things would get boring fast.
So he shakes things up. The second variation (#4) begins in a grumbly minor key, then
apologizes with a timid major that nevertheless moves us to a different key. The second
half of the variation (#5) is wandering a long way from home. The lower strings keep
puttering away at the theme, but the higher instruments play an agitated countermelody.

But it all ends happily, and the first phrase of the third variation (#6) is back in a cheerful
major, played by a jaunty oboe, who simply adds more notes to the main theme. The rest
of the variation is played by the violins with a tender woodwind accompaniment (#7).

Brass and percussion dominate the first phrase of the fourth variation (#8), and what was
tender and gentle is now sweeping and grand. For the next two phrases it’s just strings
again, playing a lyric tune that follows the harmony, but not the exact melody, of the main
theme. For the last phrase the brass and percussion come back and the variation ends with
power.

When all the variations are over, Haydn tacks on a tail, or coda (#9) to sum up the
movement. First it is grand, then mysterious, but finally simple and sweet.

All great musical compositions (and all great artworks for that matter) have a distinct
form. If you understand the form, it’s much easier to know what’s going on in the piece.
Otherwise you perceive only a random succession of pretty tunes. The most important form
of the Classical Era is the sonata allegro, or simply, sonata form. It gets its name because
it was developed in the fast movements of solo works for piano called sonatas.
Nevertheless, the form can be observed in all types of music in the Classical and Romantic
eras, and still remains a popular form in art music today.

Sonata form is a kind of heroic journey in three parts. The journey is created by a sense of
departure and a return. A group of melodies, or themes, create a home. This is called the
exposition, because here the themes are exposed. Usually each theme is played several
times to create a sense of familiarity. The exposition starts in the tonic key and then makes
a transition to the dominant for the next couple of themes. Already we have begun our
journey. After the exposition, the themes are changed, or developed, and wander through
various keys. This part is called the development. In the end there is a return, or
recapitulation, of the home themes. The recapitulation is enough like the beginning to
sound familiar, but altered in some important ways. To wrap things up, the composer
usually writes a short conclusion, called a coda, the Italian word for “tail.”

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The journey thus takes us from home to a place where the themes wander and are changed.
When we come home, we have the peaceful sense of the familiar, and yet it is different.
Think of Frodo Baggins in the Lord of the Rings. He starts at home, in the Shire, a place of
warm familiarity and comfort. Then he goes on a great journey and has terrible and
wonderful adventures. In the end he comes home again. But somehow things are not what
they were. Frodo has changed, and the Shire will never quite be the same again.

We can get a good introduction to sonata form at its most basic by listening to the first
movement of Mozart’s Piano Sonata #1 in C Major. Mozart was one of the great musical
geniuses of all time. At the age when most of us were in grade school, Mozart was touring
Europe, performing for popes and kings. In the same way that Michelangelo was able to
hold a three-dimensional image in his mind while he worked his marble, so Mozart could
conceive of an entire symphony in his mind, working out all the details before he
committed any notes to paper. He was also one of the most inventive melodists of all time,
and his pieces sparkle with a plethora of charming tunes.

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 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

LISTEN TO MOZART, PIANO SONATA #1 in C Major,

FIRST MOVEMENT
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6S5A4ZGa88

With the first theme (#1) Mozart outlines the chords of the tonic key. This theme is a
question-and-answer parallel period. Mozart then writes a series of scales, finally ending
up on one that adds notes not in the key (#2) and takes us to the dominant. While Theme 1
went up, Theme 2 (#3) goes down. It ends with a bubbling concluding tune (#4) that will
become important later on.

This is all there is to the Exposition. Mozart then repeats it verbatim, just so you can get to
know the tunes better. We again hear Theme 1 (#5), the key change (#6), Theme 2 (#7),
and the concluding tune (#8).

Then Mozart launches us into the Development (#9) which wanders through a series of
minor keys. It is interesting that the tune Mozart chooses to develop is the little concluding
tune from the Exposition.

The Development only lasts a few bars, and Mozart slides happily back to the home major
key for the Recapitulation (#10). And yet things have changed. In order to keep from
changing keys again, Mozart has to rewrite the transition (#11) from Theme 1 to Theme 2.
When Theme 2 comes in (#12), it is still in the tonic key, as is the little concluding tune
(#13).

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If it’s good once, it’s even better twice, so Mozart goes back to the Development and
repeats it and the Recapitulation verbatim. This will give you a good chance to see if you
can hear the parts of the form by yourself. Because Mozart wrote such a good concluding
tune for the Exposition/Recapitulation, there is no need for a coda at the end.

The Classical Period was not all sweetness and light, however. Mozart’s Symphony #40
is an example of a darker and more complex type of journey.

LISTEN TO MOZART, SYMPHONY #40,

FIRST MOVEMENT
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63cQVE7lee8

This being the first movement of a symphony, we expect it to be in sonata form, and it is.
But from the first notes of the first theme, a brooding, sighing, melancholy tune, we can
tell we are in for a different kind of experience. Mozart wrote this symphony the last year
of his tragically short life (he lived to be only thirty-five years old), and it carries the weight
of a good deal of human suffering. For one thing we are now in a minor key. For another,
the theme is built upon a simple three-note motive, or basic musical idea, that Mozart will
repeat insistently throughout the movement, almost like a desperate thought that he cannot
get out of his mind, or a left-over feeling from a bad dream that refuses to go away in the
morning.

As with the C Major Piano Sonata, the first theme (#1) modulates to a new key, this time
to the relative major. The second theme (#2) is more hopeful, like the sun trying to break
through the clouds. But the three-note motive returns (#3), echoing through the woodwinds
until it nags the strings into building a third theme (#4) out of the same motive. The third
theme ends in the major, but a single chord (#5) brings us right back to minor, and the
exposition repeats.

After the second time through the exposition, Mozart writes a more complex transition (#6)
to take us to an even more distant key for the development (#7). This too is built single-
mindedly on the haunting first theme. This time the wandering is much more intricate, and
much farther afield, than in our Piano Sonata. Mozart even writes a fugue-like counterpoint
on the theme (#8) as it is shared amongst the string sections. But soon the theme has
exhausted itself (#9), and all that is left is the little three-note motive, repeated over and
over again. It rises up one last time in a tragic forte (#10), but the energy is quickly
dissipated, leaving the motive gasping for life. Just as it is about to disappear altogether,
the main theme rises again from the ashes in recapitulation (#11).

As in the exposition, the first theme begins a transition modulation (#12), but this time
something seems to go wrong, and the first intimations of major are quickly catapulted
back into minor (#13). There is more anguished fugal development (#14), and when the
music finally settles down to the second theme, it is still in the minor (#15). What was once
bright and optimistic is now solemn and gloomy. When the three-note motive comes back

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again (#16), it has an aura of fate about it. The final coda (#17) is alternately frightening
and resigned.