Author: Avior Byron
Title: Gender narratives in Schoenberg’s Op. 33a:
performance, analysis and culture
Keywords: analysis, narrative, performance, sonata form, Schoenberg, piano piece, gender,
transgender, Op. 33a, culture, recordings, listener, 1950s, 1960s, Berlin 1920s, musicology, the
Other, the Self, androgynous, hermaphrodite, identity, Jew, German, nationalism, race, modernism,
meaning, twelve tone analysis, tone counting, culture, intersubjectivity, inter-subjectivity
Avion Byron
Zealon 6, 81512
Email Address: avior@bymusic.org
Abstract: There is often unfortunate antagonism between many performers and music analysts. For
some, the acts of each group are almost irrelevant to the other. Schoenberg’s Piano Piece Op. 33a is
usually discussed by analysts in terms of abstract absolute music: 12 tone technique and sonata form.
Building on recent performance and gender studies, I suggest an analytical alternative: constructing
gender narratives, as manifested in the score and interpretations of it in performance, as a vehicle for
dealing with the immediate musical experience. This alternative is suggested both as a tool for
discovering an intersubjective meaning communicated by the composer, as well as a flexible concept
that might aid to the creation and sharing of meaning for and by contemporary performers, analysts
and listeners.
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Recent years proved to be fruitful with regards to research on the relationship between performance
and analysis.1 John Rink pointed out that there is often an unfortunate antagonism between music
analysts and performers.2 His article ‘Analysis and (or?) performance’ may be seen as an attempt to
bridge this gap, so that the two groups will be able to benefit from the acts of each other. The present
article wishes to continue in this direction and suggest an analytical method that may be relevant not
only to music analysts and composers, but also to performers and listeners. I suggest an analytical
method that points to what takes place in real-time during performance, hence being potentially more
relevant to the experience of listeners and performers. One should keep in mind that although
cultural and historical issues will be briefly discussed in the following, the aim is to suggest not a
pure descriptive analysis, but one that is more prescriptive:3 the idea is to propose a method that may
help performers and others to create and share meaning informed by analysis. The method that I
suggest takes into account, but also transcends mere technical and abstract aspects such as tempo,
For a brief literature review see John Rink, ‘Analysis and (or?) performance’ in Musical Performance: A Guide for
Understanding (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). See also the special issue on performance and analysis
in Music Theory Online, 11/1 (March 2005), http://mto.societymusictheory.org/issues/mto.05.11.1/toc.11.1.html
2
Rink, ‘Analysis and (or?) performance’, p. 35.
3
More about the two types of analysis at the conclusion of this article.
1
1
dynamics, harmony, large-scale planning, etc. It points out to the ‘real world’, in the sense that it
speaks about gender, race, identity and other historical, social and cultural contexts that are relevant
to my case study: Schoenberg’s piano piece, Op. 33a.
Joseph Auner has successfully demonstrated that although many supporters of and objectors to
Arnold Schoenberg’s music had described the composer as elitist, his relation to the public was
complex.4 Many of his compositions from the 1920s simultaneously participate in and challenge
contemporary popular genres. Auner claims that ‘the image of an uncompromised Schoenberg
making no concessions to the performer or listener is … mistaken.’5 Schoenberg composed the Piano
Piece Op. 33a between 25 December 1928 and 25 April 1929. Since early in the twentieth century
his compositional technique was seen by most writers as the key to the understanding of his music.
There is contradicting evidence concerning whether Schoenberg himself encouraged what was to be
called: ‘tone counting’ analysis. Yet, it was claimed that Theodor Adorno and René Leibowitz
‘transmitted this kind of analysis to a whole generation of musicians’.6 Indeed, the vast majority of
analyses of Op. 33a relate mainly to the systematic and precompositional aspects such as the 12 tone
technique.7 In fact, all of Schoenberg’s piano compositions are often seen as stations in his
compositional development, almost as laboratory artifacts that he created in order to test a certain
technique that he invented.8
The composer Iannis Xenakis said in an interview: ‘I didn’t like [Schoenberg’s] … music, … It
was only later that I learned to appreciate Schoenberg’s compositions, especially his piano works.
They are witness to an immense power of imagination… I could understand those pieces by
separating them from the theory.’9 I do not suggest ignoring the theory or other formal aspects of the
piece. Yet it is revealing that the moment Xenakis granted himself license to listen to issues that are
beyond the 12 tone technique, it opened for him a path to appreciate this music. David Burge
confessed: ‘I have found myself over the several decades during which I have been performing,
teaching, lecturing, and writing about twentieth-century music avoiding reference to the fact that
such-and-such a piece “is twelve tone”. Rather, I have tried to bring out those aspects of the piece
that demonstrate its basic musicality and inner expressiveness. This expressiveness is in no way
dependent on the compositional technique involved.’10
Most commentators, however, usually ignored other compositional aspects of the score and
especially crucial aspects of the music that were fully defined only during performance. Martha
Hyde claimed that we ‘must hear material … in reference to the structure of a specific twelve-tone
set and to the structure of the twelve-tone system (transposition, inversion, and retrograde).’11 She
argued that analysis, ‘especially of form, tends to be an optimistic report on the listening
experience’.12 Optimistic indeed; most people might consider it perhaps too optimistic. In 1987,
Nicholas Cook argued that ‘there seems to be a vague assumption that … (precompositional aspects
4
I would like to thank the the European Network for Musicological Research (ENMR) organisers: Professor Gianmario
Borio (Università degli Studi di Pavia, Cremona), Professor Hermann Danuser (Musikwissenschaftliches Seminar,
Humboldt Universität, Berlin), and Professor John Rink (Royal Holloway, University of London) as well as the other
people involved in this project, for a Postdoctoral research fellowship I conducted in Berlin. This study is a result of
reasearch I undertook in Berlin as part of this fellowship.
5
Joseph Auner, ‘Schoenberg and His Public in 1930’, in ed. Walter Frisch, Schoenberg and His World (Princeton, New
Jersey: Princeton University Press 1999).
6
Hans Stuckenschmidt, Arnold Schoenberg (New York: Schirmer books, 1977), 348-349.
7
See Kathryn Bailey, ‘Schoenberg’s Piano Sonata’, Tempo, 57 (2003): 16-21; ; Raymond Fearn, ‘Zwei Klavierstücke
Op. 33a und Op. 33b’ in ed. Gerold W. Gruber, Arnold Schönberg: Interpretationen Seiner Werke, Band I (Germany:
Laaber, 2002), pp. 504-508; Graebner, Eric: ‘An analysis of Schoenberg's Klavierstück, op. 33a’, Perspectives of New
Music 12/1-2 (1973): 128-140; Georg Krieger, Schönbergs Werke für Klavier (Göttingen : Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,
1968), pp. 98-106; Wolfgang Rogge, Das Klavierwerk Arnold Schönbergs (Regensburg : Bosse, 1964), pp. 47-51.
8
For example, Effie Carlson wrote that it ‘is in piano composition that he initiated each major change in the evolution of
his style.’ Effie Carlson, A Bio-Bibliographical Dictionary of Twelve Tone and Serial Composers (Netuchen, N.J.:
Scarecrow Press, 1970), p. 21.
9
Bálint András Varga, Conversations with Xenakis (London: Faber and Faber, 1996), p. 53.
10
David Burge, Twentieth Century Piano Music (Lanhan, Maryland and Toronto, Oxford: The Scarecrow Press, 2004),
pp. 91-92.
11
Martha M. Hyde, ‘Musical form and the development of Schoenberg’s twelve-tone method’, Journal of Music Theory,
29/1 (1985), p. 98
12
Ibid., p. 98.
2
of serial music) must somehow explain the musical effect even when it is obvious that it does not
relate to anything the listener is consciously aware of.’13 Whatever the answers to the complex
questions concerning the reception of this music are, it is clear that the great difference between the
early recordings of Op. 33a implies that one should seek to understand the music by coming to terms,
not only with the score, but also with performances.
This study will attempt to reduce the gulf between analysis and the listeners’ and performers’
experiences, by analysing recordings and cultural history. The aim is to reveal the musical elements
that are more relevant for performers and listeners, and to discuss the cultural meanings that they
support. I assume that Op. 33a is much more than an ‘abstract’ twelve tone composition. Not only
compositions such as ‘the Zeitoper Von heute auf Morgen, the Accompaniement to a Film Scene, Op.
34; and a large number of choral works… deeply engaged with contemporary debates about the
fashion for popular music … and the desire to reflect contemporary life.’14 Also ‘absolute’ music,
such as the Piano Piece, Op. 33a, can be seen as a commentary on contemporary culture in Berlin
and Europe.15 In the word ‘culture’ I include modern Europe’s attitude towards ‘outsiders’ such as
Jewish, homosexual and transgender people.
One of the possibilities to come into terms with this music in a manner that is relevant to
listeners and performers is through the concept of sonata form that is familiar to many (at least more
that the 12 tone analyses). However, exchanging 12 tone formalism with that of the sonata form will
not solve the problem. I will suggest a cultural understanding of how narratives may be interpreted
within a sonata form, and more important, how these actually affect and are affected by performance.
I will start by challenging the concept of the sonata form (in singular) and discussing it in relation to
its specific manifestation and cultural context of Op. 33a.
Yet before doing so, I would like to outline my argument and briefly address a possible
objection. The idea that a sonata form can be non-tonal is not part of mainstream musicology.
Moreover, it is not completely clear whether Schoenberg intended that Op. 33 will be a sonata form.
If this is not enough, there is no evidence that I am aware of, that Schoenberg was interested in the
issue of transgender sexuality. Therefore, one might object that this article is simple a subjective
reading of Op. 33.
I do not intend to hide behind claims such as the ‘death of the author’ in order to justify my
reading. On the contrary, I claim that my reading is not merely subjective, but intersubjective.16
Several scholars demonstrated that Schoenberg was preoccupied with tonality in general and sonata
form in particular in his atonal and 12-tone music. There are other people who identify and
convincingly argue that Op. 33a is in a sonata form. There are other authors who demonstrated that
gender issues are often an integral part of a sonata form. Many historians showed that gender was an
important aspect of how Berlin of the 1920s defined itself.
I will point out in this article to a connection between Op. 33a, sonata form, and gender.
Weather Schoenberg was aware of this issue, or communicated it unconsciously, is not something
that I managed to prove. Nevertheless, it seems clear that Schoenberg dealt with other things than
mere 12-tone technique and sonata form in this composition. Following the path starting from gender
in sonata form, through the change in perspective of the transgender in Berlin 1920s, continuing to
examine early interpretations of the piece during the 1950s and 1960s, might seem an ambitious
project. Yet, it is an essential path if one wishes to examine musical communication and
interpretation without disconnecting current listening of these early performances and the cultural
meanings at the time of the composition of the piece.
13
Nicholas Cook, A Guide to Musical Analysis (London & Melbourne: J. M. Dent and Sons, 1987), 333.
Auner, ‘Schoenberg and His Public in 1930’, p. 97.
15
Schoenberg wrote about some of these popular trends in the realm of music between 1922 and 1930: 'It started with the
European musicians imitating American jazz. Then followed "Machine Music" and "New Objectivity" (Neue
Sachlichkeit) and "Music for Every Day Use" (Gebrauchmusik) and "Play Music" and "Game Music" (Spielmusik) and
finally "Neo-classicism".' Arnold Schoenberg, ‘How one becomes lonely’, in Style and Idea, ed. Leonard Stein, trans.
Leo Black (Faber and Faber: London, 1975), 52. See also Ibid., ‘The young and I’, 92-94.
16
“One of the pleasures of musical conversation is to establish intersubjectivity in relation to a work... For this purpose
there needs to be a shared attention to the experience of the work. When description is ostensive, you have to hear the
work, not merely grasp its structural procedures.“ Naomi Cumming,“Musical Ineffability and the Fear of
Smiles“, Semiotica 111, 1/2 (1996), pp. 117-118
14
3
Since Schoenberg was aware of the issue of gender in the sonata form, and since the attitude
towards gender changed in Berlin 1920s, the narrative that he built (in the score) and the ways it was
performed carry meaning that is beyond subjectivity. It is no secret that common cultural meanings
are being communicated with and without the intention of composers and performers.
The non-tonal sonata form
In order to examine how the concept of sonata form may be useful here, there is need to examine its
validity in a non-tonal context (which is far from being self evident in today's musical
establishment). Is there such a thing as a non-tonal sonata form?
In his notes to Else C. Kraus’s recording of Schoenberg’s piano pieces, Adorno claims that
Op. 33a is in a sonata form. Boulez, like Adorno, would identify this act of using old forms as being
problematic. The invention of a new musical language should be accompanied, in their modernistic
eyes, with the invention of new forms. Boulez who identified tonal musical form as originating from
tonality itself, and not from cultural reasons, found the use of sonata and other forms in Schoenberg’s
music from the 1920s onwards as disturbing enough in order to declare in the title of his famous
article that ‘Schoenberg is dead’.17 He regards Schoenberg's act of using old forms in the 12 tone
context as 'wrong'.18
It seems that there could not be a more legitimate question concerning non-tonal music and
tonal forms than the following one: how could there be sonata form in music which is not tonal?
Indeed, in the Grove's entry on the sonata form one can find an interesting description concerning the
20th century:
More surprising, and more problematic, is the use of the sonata form in atonal repertories… Sonata
[form appears in] … Schoenberg’s Piano Piece op. 33a… [In this case] the form can be articulated
only by the sectional structure... Such techniques as … varying segmentations of the set … can clearly
articulate pitch groupings… But these distinctions hardly function analogously to that between tonic
and dominant in Mozart or Brahms; insofar as tonality is the essential force governing sonata form,
then 12-note 'sonata form' is necessarily different in practice… [The] unity of (developmental) process
and (tonal) structure that had characterized tonal sonata form is exploded [in the 12 tone sonata
form]... it is hardly audible in any traditional sense.19
This view sees the sonata form as based on tonality (hence the use of the negative words 'surprising',
'problematic' and 'exploded').20 Considering the strong influence of Schenker on theory in the second
half of the 20th century, it is easy to forget that it is not the Schenkerian view of the sonata form that
was widespread in the 19th and the first half of the 20th centuries, but that of the so-called 'textbook'
sonata form, which 'emphasized the role of themes – particularly the opposition of contrasting
principal themes – in the articulation of form.'21 Ethan Haimo claims that it is this concept of the
sonata form that 'constituted an important element in the formation of Schoenberg’s view of classical
forms.'22 Unlike Schenker, Schoenberg’s saw tonality, not as a law of nature, but as an outmoded
convention that can be replaced by atonality and the 12 tone method. At the same time, he believed
that the concepts of developing variation and non-tonal organicism, are the true essence of western
musical tradition. George Perle's analysis of Op. 33a shows that the different kinds of segmentation
may help to clarify a sonata form.23 Indeed, the contrasting use of the texture, rhythm and tempo
Boulez, Pierre, ‘Schoenberg is Dead’ in Stocktakings from an Apprenticeship (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991),
pp. 209–214.
18
Ibid., p. 211.
19
Grove ….. p. 696
20
On p. 688 (ibid.) in the section concerning the Intrinsic principle of the sonata form James Webster, who wrote this
entry, writes: ‘Like any form in tonal music... The form is a synthesis of the tonal structure’. Emphasis added. His
description of Schenker´s theory as ‘profound’ (p. 697) is also telling.
21
Ethan Haimo, ‘Schoenberg’s Mature Twelve-tone Compositions,’ in The Schoenberg Companion (1998), p. 152. This
view of the sonata form can be found in influential writings of A. B. Marx and Czerny. [Add ref….]
22
Ibid. 153.
23
George Perle, Serial Composition and Atonality, p. 113. Moreover, even if one accepts the 19 th century and early 20th
century concept of sonata form, there is more than one way to analyze it. The fact the theorists argue about the definition
of parts and labels of tonal sonata forms is not new. This is why it is not surprising to find a certain disagreement among
17
4
indications, in the main themes supports Perle's view. A similar argument is made by Jonathan
Dunsby who discusses whether on not Friede auf Erden, Op. 13 is an example of sonata form: 'If by
sonata form we mean the historical practice codified ... by Schenker ... then no, ... [it] does not
confirm. If, however, we mean by sonata form a structure with a "tonic" varied reprise, and (as with
Brahms's practice) a decisive closing section (a developmental 'coda'), then we see ... [a] breeze
blowing to the future here, for such a description would be equally apt for ... Op. 33a'.24 Dunsby, in
spite of being well immersed in Schenkerian scholarship, shows great sensitivity to the fact that there
is more than one way to understand the term sonata form, and cultural and social aspects play an
important role in how one determines it.
I would like to mention three points of view that go against the idea that there is a sonata
form in Op. 33a. In order to do so, there is need to briefly contextualize Schoenberg’s tonal acts in
non-tonal works. These acts can be traced back to compositions that immediately proceeded
Erwartung, Op. 17 (1909). Peter Burkholder mentions the first song of Pierrot lunaire where the
opening figure departures from a pitch level, returning to it at the end of the song, resembling the act
of tonal modulation.25 In music written in the 12 tone method, such acts can be traced back to the
Piano Suite, Op. 23, were he used two transpositions of the row, and in a sketch he marked P-0 ‘T’
(for ‘tonic’) and P-6 ‘D’ (for ‘dominant’).26 Moreover, Burkholder comments that Schoenberg’s
insistence on the interval of fifth between the prime form and the inversion in the technique of
combinatoriality (combinatoriality itself is seen as creating an area analogue to a key in tonal
music27) in later composition, recalls the interval of the fifth between the tonic and the dominant in
tonal music (since he excluded other possible combinations).28
One of the objectors to the idea that Op. 33a is in a sonata form is Carl Dahlhaus. He believes
that there is no real extensive development of the themes and therefore one should not regard Op.
33a as a sonata form. He argues that Op. 33a does not come from the sonata tradition but from that of
the ‘character piece’,29 or more specifically that of the ‘lyrical piano pieces’.30 The 12 tone method
did supply Schoenberg with the technique of creating extended forms. The reason why he limited
himself to a short composition lies in the circumstances that the piece was written under. It was Emil
Hertzka who wrote to Schoenberg in 1928, asking for permission to use his Piano Piece, Op. 11, No.
1, in a planned anthology of modern piano pieces. Schoenberg preferred to compose a new
composition. As it was supposed to be part of this anthology, its length, naturally, had to be limited.
Dalhaus prefers to ignore such social circumstances and to see the disposition of combinatorial
groups as the principle that constructs the form of the piece, however, I do not see how this negates
the development of motives that does exist in this piece (consider, for example, Bailey’s analysis of
the piece in this respect).31
Secondly, one may argue, as in the Grove quotation above, that there is a problem of
perceiving this piece as a sonata form. The arguments around the perception of Schoenberg’s nontonal music go back to the beginning of the 20th century.32 Whether or not this happens in practice,
authors concerning the analysis of sonata form in Op. 33a. In an article on this piece called ‘Schoenberg’s Piano Sonata’,
Kathryn Bailey advocates a different view of the sonata than that of Perle. (Kathryn Bailey, ‘Schoenberg’s Piano Sonata’,
pp. 16-21.) The main difference is that instead of two themes, Bailey identifies a third one at mm. 19-20 (the very place
where Perle identifies an ‘Episode’ within the ‘Second Group’).
24
Jonathan Dunsby, Making Words Sing (Cambridge: University of Cambridge, 2004), p. 86.
25
Peter Burkholder, ‘Schoenberg the Reactionary’, in ed. Walter Frisch, Schoenberg and His World, p. 175.
26
See Ethan Haimo, Schoenberg’s Serial Odyssey: The Evolution of His Twelve-Tone Method, 1914-1928 (Oxford,
1990), p. 101.
27
Burkholder, ‘Schoenberg the Reactionary’, p. 191 footnote 36.
28
Ibid., pp. 177, 180.
29
Carl Dahlhaus, ‘New Music and the problem of musical genre’ in Dahlhaus, Carl, Schoenberg and the New Music:
Essays by Carl Dahlhaus, trans. Derrick Puffett and Alfred Clayton (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University
Press, 1987), p. 33.
30
Dahlhaus, Carl‚ ‘Über das Analysieren Neuer Musik: zu Schönbergs Klavierstücken opus 11/1 und opus 33a’, in
Schönberg und andere, Ed .Carl Dahlhaus (Mainz, New York: Schott 1978): 170.
31
See Bailey, ‘Schoenberg’s Piano Sonata’.
32
Various critics described Schoenberg’s compositions as ‘paper music’. See Nicholas Slonimsky, Lexicon of Musical
Invective: Critical Assaults on Composers since Beethoven’s Time (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press,
1978), pp. 161, 163, 167. Ernst Krenek wrote in an article ‘Music in the Present’ (printed in 25 Jahre neue Music, 1925)
5
depends on the listeners (what kind of conception of the sonata form they have, and whether they are
culturally or academically trained to search for it while listening) and on the performer. Yet, the need
for a preconception of a ‘sonata form’, as various scholars have shown, exists also in tonal music.
One is not born with this concept in mind. The need for preconceptions in music is a vital part of any
culture.
The third reason why one may object that this piece is in a sonata form was articulated by
Cook who points to the fact that the transposition of the series does not occur in the second theme, as
in the tonal sonata.33 Schoenberg does transpose the second theme in some of his other serial
compositions, for example, in the fourth string quartet.34 However, Cook admits that ‘the return from
the “foreign” transposition … to the “home” combination … at the point of recapitulation is clearly
modeled on tonal practice; there is even a cadential pause preceding … the final tonic. And the first
modulation, at measures 27-8, is also similar to tonal practice’.35 Although we mentioned that
Schoenberg’s understanding of Sonata form was not essentially based on tonality,36 as that of
Schenker, one cannot ignore that Schoenberg did ‘modulate’ series on other works in an analogous
way to the tonal practice in the sonata form.37
There could be a few reasons why Schoenberg did not follow this practice in Op. 33a.
Schoenberg might have wanted to make the whole issue of sonata in Op. 33a controversial and
unclear. On 7 October 1920 Schoenberg wrote to Alma Mahler concerning the opera Die glückliche
Hand:
That my work meant something to you even in this incomplete form is great joy to me, since I hope
that when you eventually see it as a whole, it will be able to say to you what I really wanted to
express... If I am to be honest and say something about my works (which I don't do willingly, since I
actually write them in order to conceal myself thoroughly behind them, so that I shall not be seen), it
could only be this: it is not meant symbolically, only envisioned and felt… It meant something to my
emotions as I wrote it down. If the component parts, when they are put together, result in a similar
picture, that is all right with me. If not, then that's even better. Because I don't want to be understood.
It would be terrible if one could see through me. Therefore I prefer to say technical, aesthetic, or
philosophical things about my works.38
Schoenberg’s play with some clear features of sonata while not using another feature (i.e. 12 tone
modulation) of this form can be understood as an attempt to conceal controversial cultural meanings
of the music.
Moreover, Schoenberg might have had an interest to emphasize similarity between the two
(not completely contradictory) main themes having them on the same level. One should keep in mind
that making the form of the piece indecisive goes in hand with the nature and development of the
themes, as I will show in a moment.39
that certain trends in ‘absolute music’ are a ‘game that is only interesting to those who knows the rules… Taken to its
conclusion, it becomes the self-gratification of an individual who sits in his studio and invents rules according to which
hr then writes down his notes. In transforming these notes by means of musical instruments into audible substance, none
of this adherence to his rules will be passed on to the listeners unless they are prepared for it in the most exacting way.’
Translated in Susan C. Cook, Opera for a New Republic: The Zeitopern of Krenek, Weill, and Hindmith (Ann Arbor:
U.M.I. Research Press, 1988), p. 196.
33
Nicholas Cook, A Guide to Musical Analysis, p. 328.
34
See Ethan Haimo, ‘Tonal Analogies in Schoenberg’s Fourth String Quartet,’ Journal of the Arnold Schönberg Center 4
(2002), 219-28.
35
Cook, A Guide to Musical Analysis, pp. 328-9.
36
Schoenberg would certinly agree that tonality was an important aspect of sonata form in the nineteenth century. Yet, as
mentioned above, note that the so-called 'textbook' sonata form, which emphasized the role of contrasting principal
themes, was the one that was widespread in Schoenberg’s time.
37
For a Schenkerian discussion of how Schoenberg does this in the so-called ‘foreground’ and ‘background’ see Josef N.
Straus, Remaking the Past (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1990) were he identifies this act in
terms of parody (a kind of humor that, arguably, only a Schenkerian can understand).
38
Joseph Auner, A Schoenberg Reader (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2003), pp. 87-88. Emphasis
mine.
39
One should keep in mind that the fact that the analogy with tonal sonata form is not perfect occurs also in the Fourth
String Quartet. After analyzing the first movement, Burkholder asks: ‘Is this the best way to describe the form? What is
6
I do not claim that this piece should be reduced to a sonata form.40 Op. 33a contains much
more than sonata form or 12 tone method.41 There is no clear solution and those who are skeptical
have arguments to base their skepticism on. Yet, the evidence described above shows that diverse
musicians such as the pianist Burge,42 and the authors Adorno, Perle, Bailey and others were not
indulging in mere wishful thinking when they saw Op. 33a as part of a sonata form tradition. The
accumulated evidence above suggests that a sonata form may be interpreted in Op. 33a quite
securely. In other words, Op. 33a being sonata form is neither objective nor subjective, it is
intersubjective.
Gender and other cultural aspects of 1920s Berlin
I will briefly mention a few cultural phenomena from the time and place that Schoenberg composed
the piece in order to show equivalent structures and ways of thinking. I assume that Schoenberg’s
creativity was influenced by the cultural and social environment that he was part of. In the realm of
performance practice, it is illuminating to consider a contemporary of Schoenberg, Artur Schnabel,
who lived in Berlin at the same time, composed in a manner highly influenced by Scheonberg, and
even performed once in Schoenberg’s Pierrot lunaire. Schnabel reported that ‘a lady asked me to
which of two existing schools of teaching I adhere to, to that which you play in time or to that which
you play as you feel. I had to think for a moment before I said: “Can’t one feel in time?”’43 Schnabel
is advocating an appearance which is ‘in time’ yet it does not contradict the essence that the pianist
‘feels’ while playing. Schnabel’s witty answer seeks to question the lady’s somewhat single-headed
correlation between how one feels and plays.
The performance practice of ‘playing in time’ is associated with the Neue Sachlichkeit (New
Objectivity) movement which was embracing diverse movement in music, art, photography film and
architecture.44 Gustav Friedrich Hartlaub, the director of the Kunsthalle in Mannheim wrote in 1929:
‘The expression “New Objectivity” was in fact coined by me in the year 1924... It was related to ...
the widespread mood in Germany at the time, which was one of resignation and cynicism after a
period of exuberant hopes... [It also] expresses itself in the enthusiasm for the immediate reality’.45
Indeed, this was an issue that extended beyond music.
the exact role of each row, and why is each tonal field used where it is? These are debatable issues.’ Yet he concludes
that ‘the very fact that we can debate [such issues]… is a sign of how well Schoenberg met his goal of emulating the
classical master composers… these are issues precisely like those posed by the classical quartets of Haydn, Mozart, and
Beethoven. In other words, the analogy if perfect.’ (Burkholder, ‘Schoenberg the Reactionary’, pp. 184-185.)
40
It is far too easy to seek for an all-embracing logic underneath a composition, while ignoring cultural and social aspects
that affected it. John Glofcheskie finds that the ‘wrong’ notes (with relation to precompositional order of the sets) in Op.
33 are actually intentional and help to articulate the sonata form of the movement. He concludes that ‘Schoenberg’s
“wrong” notes evince an inevitable logic.’ (Glofcheskie, John, ‘”Wrong” notes in Schoenberg's op. 33a’, Studies in
Music, 1976(1): 103. For a sonata form analysis of Op. 33a see George Perle, Serial Composition and Atonality, 6th edn
(1991), pp. 111-116. ) Yet this (once again Schenkerian) attempt to straighten up illogical phenomenon in Op. 33a are far
from settling the problem in a decisive way.
41
For a fascinating article mentioning Op. 33a and pointing for the limitation of analysis as an attempt to justify music in
terms of logic, see Edward T. Cone, Perspectives of New Music, 6/1 (1967): 33-51.
42
Burge, Twentieth Century Piano Music, p. 95.
43
Artur Schnabel, My Life and Music (New York: Dover, 1988), p. 157. Quoted in Robert Hill, ‘”Overcoming
romanticism”: on the modernization of twentieth-century performance practice’, in ed. Bryan Gilliam, Music and
performance during the Weimar Republic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), p. 37.
44
For details see Hill , ‘”Overcoming romanticism”: on the modernization of ...’, and chapter 7 ‘Cult and culture of the
superficial: the new objectivity’ in Rainer Metzger, Berlin in the Twenties: Art and Culture 1918-1933 (London: Thames
and Hudson, 2006), pp. 179-252. For a discussion how Schoenberg’s performance practice was influenced by the Neue
Sachlichkeit see Avior Byron, ‘Schoenberg as Performer: an Aesthetics in Practice,’ Ph.D. dissertation (University of
London, 2007), chapter 3; See also Bärbel Schrader and Jürgen Schebera, The ‘Golden’ Twenties )New Haven and
London: Yale University Press, 1988).
45
Quoted in Metzger, Berlin in the Twenties, p. 179. No reference given there to the original letter.
7
Fig. 2. Gertrud and Arnold Schoenberg in Roquebrune
1928/29
Fig. 1. Otto Dix, Portrait of the Journalist Sylvia von
Harden, 1926, mixed media on wood, 120 x 88 cm, Paris,
Musée National d'Art Moderne
[There is need to ask permission to publish the painting and the photo.]
Writing about Berlin of the 1920s, Rainer Metzger claimed that these 'were the years of undisguised
androgyny; of redefining the roles of men and women; and of constantly changing sexual
preferences; the true sexual identity remained hidden, but the sexual identity of choice was paraded
in a desire to shock and entice.'46 This can be seen is the painting Portrait of the Journalist Sylvia von
Harden by Otto Dix (1926),47 where she has the Herrenschnitt ('man's hair' cut) which fashionable
and associated with the so-called young urban New Woman (Fig. 1). The expression on her face, the
way her hands are situated (as well as the clothes, drink and cigarettes), all contribute to her
‘masculine’ appearance. It is interesting to compare this painting with the photo of Gertrud and
Arnold Schoenberg in Roquebrune (which was taken around the time of the composition of Op. 33a).
Gertrud looks more feminine than the journalist, yet she too has the Herrenschnitt (Fig. 2). A similar
redefinition of gender roles can be found in photos by August Sander, such as Wife of a Painter
(Helene, Abelen), c. 1926 and Secretary with the Westdeutscher Rundfunk in Cologne, 1931.48
In the area of fashion the slogan went: ‘The cloths make the person’.49 Commercials in the
1920s explained that cloths are not only part of an appearance: they are an expression of the essence
of a person. Cloths say volumes, it was believed, about one’s life style and way of life. The
Garçonne, one of the versions of the ‘New Woman’, was an extravagant woman with an appearance
46
Metzger, Berlin in the Twenties, p. 214.
The painting can be found in Metzger´s book on page 215. See also the p
hotos on pp. 188-189.
48
Both photos (and many others from that era) can be found in Metzger, Berlin in the 20s, pp. 188 and 189.
49
B. Hähnlein, ‘Kleider machen Leute’, Mein Magazin, 33 (1930): 8-11. See Neumann, Being in the Weimar Republic,
pp. 180-184.
47
8
that resembled men’s fashion: ‘a woman that looks like a man that looks like a woman’ (see Fig.
3).50
Fig. 3. The actress Anita Berber, ‘Man fashion’, 1926
Consider also the cultural icon of Josephine Baker who was one of the most famous figures in
Berlin nightclubs at the late 1920s. Her whole appearance was a manifestation of this game of
‘essence’ and ‘appearance’. Metzger describes her as follows: ‘She was exotic with her black skin,
primitive in her banana skirt, feminine in her nakedness, boyish with her short haircut and artificial
with all her wigs.’ (see Fig. 4)51
50
Erica Thiel, Geschichte des Kostüms: Die Europäisch Mode von den Anfängen bis zur Gegenwart (Berlin:
Henschelverlag Kunst und Gesellschaft, 1968), p. 634. Quoted in Neumann, Being in the Weimar Republic, p. 184.
51
Ibid, p. 246.
9
Fig. 4. Joséphine Baker: 'Girdle of Bananas' (1926)
pictured in her famous outfit
Boaz Neumann claimed that cosmetics were one of the main means that helped to hide the
wounds of the human body after World War One.52 For the over four million wounded Germans,
cosmetics was not something that helped to hide their real physical body, but a means that enabled
them to appear in public. Similarly, prostheses were seen, more from the aesthetic and social point of
view than from that of functionality. The main concern was to help people return to a situation where
they could appear again in society without being ashamed of their appearance. Starting as a necessity
of life, it continued as part of a fashion and a life style. In 1925 Erich Lexer made the first operation
for breast reduction. Many other chirurgic operations were conducted out of the understanding that
‘cosmetics seem to deal with “external” and “surface” matters, yet it defines the existence of people
who live in a society controlled by principles of appearance.’53
Ludwig Levi-Lentz was one of the pioneers to perform an operation for sex change. He
believed that such operations function as psychotherapy, granting the patients psychological relief
after being able to change the situation where their external appearance contradicted the way they
conceived their gender. The transvestite changed their name, cloths, face, body and sex, in order to
live in peace with their surroundings (see Figs. 5 and 6). In some cases the transvestite enjoyed
exchanging various appearances. There is a report of a transvestite that lived as a brother and a sister
of himself. He used to eat lunch in a restaurant as a woman and at night as her twin brother. The
52
Boaz Neumann, Being in the Weimar Republic (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2007), pp. 61-106. [Translated from Hebrew:
)2007 ,‫ עם עובד‬:‫ להיות ברפובליקת ויימאר (תל אביב‬,‫[בועז נוימן‬
53
Ibid, p. 67.
10
waiter never saw them together and he did not know that it was the same person, since always one of
them has to ‘take care of the house’.54
Score analysis: Op. 33a, gender and identity
In Op. 33a, what is supposed to be essentially ‘masculine’ appears to behave partly as ‘feminine’
(and vice versa). Schoenberg presented the themes of the sonata form, in a way that is both
contradicting and adhering to what was traditionally regarded as their binary oppositional essence.
Schoenberg was well aware of the existence of gender conceptions in music. Although
several authors acknowledged the existence of a sonata form in Op. 33a, none have written on the
cultural significance of this narrative to Schoenberg and the world he lived in, at that time.
Susan McClary suggests that Schoenberg was aware of ‘received wisdom’ (concerning the
semiotic mapping of gender symbols on musical terms) when he wrote in his Theory of Harmony
that the ‘dualism presented by major and minor has the power of a symbol suggesting high forms of
order: it reminds us of male and female and delimits the spheres of expression according to attraction
and repulsion… The will of nature is supposedly fulfilled in them.’55 In Style and Idea he wrote
(what would seem today as a sexist statement):
It seems to me this is the masculine way of thinking: thinking at once of the whole future, of the whole destiny
of the idea, and preparing beforehand for every possible detail. This is the manner in which a man builds his
house, organizes his affairs, and prepares for his wars. The other manner is the feminine manner, which takes
into account with good understanding the nearest consequences of a problem, but misses preparing for the more
remote events.56
Elsewhere, he suggested that the diminished chord has an ‘indefinite, hermaphroditic, immature
character’.57
In her article ‘Androgyny and the Eternal Feminine in Schoenberg’s Oratorio Die
Jakobsleiter’, Jennifer Shaw claimed that except of Nattiez’s study of Wagner,58 ‘few attempts have
been made to identify representations of androgyny in music itself.’59 Shaw reviewed various
representations of androgyny in the literature (a certain passage in Plato’s Symposium, and stories by
Honoré de Balzac, Emanuel Swedenborg, Jacob Boehme essays on transvestism an bisexuality
appeared in Karl Kraus’s journal, Die Fackel) and visual arts (the Pre-Raphaelites Edward BurneJones and Dante Gabriel Rosseti, prints of Aubrey Beardsley, Edward Munch and Gustav Klimt),
arguing that in most cases, it in known that Schoenberg was acquainted their works. Moreover, she
suggests that ‘Schoenberg’s efforts to develop a musical language equal to the androgyny ideal of his
harmony textbook may have shaped both his search for alternatives to the tonal system and his
development, after the war, of the twelve-tone method of composition.’60
Nineteenth-century writings on the sonata form describe the exposition of the sonata as
containing a 'masculine' main theme that is contrasted by a second lyrical ‘feminine’ theme.61
Schoenberg was influenced by A. B. Marx conception of the sonata form.62 The following is from
54
Magnus Hirschfeld, Geschlechtskunde auf Grund dreißigjährige Forschung und Erfahrung bearbeitet: Die
körperseelischen Grundlagenl, Vol. 1 (Stuttgart: Julius Pütmann Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1926), p. 594. See Neumann,
Being in the Weimar Republic, pp. 190-191.
55
Arnold Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony (1911), trans. Roy E. Carter (Berkley: University of California Press, 1983),
p. 96. Later, at the same place he writes about the ‘asexual’ nature of angels. McClary quotes this in Feminine Endings,
p. 11. For McClary’s fascinating discussion of Schoenberg’s use of these tropes see Feminine Endings, pp. 11-15 and pp.
104-109.
56
Schoenberg, ‘The blessing of the dressing’, Style and Idea, p. 385
57
Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 196. See also Julie Brown, ‘Schoenberg’s early Wagnerism’, Cambridge Opera
Journal, 6/1 (1994): 67-68.
58
Jean-Jacques Nattiez, Wagner Androgyne: A Study in Interpretation, trans. Stewart Spencer (Princeton: Princeton
University Pres, 1993); reviewed by Brian Hyer, Journal of the American Musicological Society 47 (1994): 531-40.
59
Jennifer Shaw, ‘Androgyny and the Eternal Feminine in Schoenberg’s Oratorio Die Jakobsleiter’, in Charlotts M.
Cross and Bermna, A. Russell, eds., Political and Religious Ideas in the Works of Arnold Schoenberg (New York &
London: Garland Publishing, 2000), p. 62.
60
Ibid.
61
Grove, p. 697.
62
Haimo, ‘Schoenberg’s Mature Twelve-tone Compositions’, p. 152.
11
Marx’s book Die Lehre von der musikalische Komposition (1837-47): ‘The second theme, on the
other hand, serves as contrast to the first, energetic statement, though dependent on and determined
by it. It is of a more tendered nature, flexible rather than emphatically constructed – in a way, the
feminine as opposed to the preceding masculine. In this sense each of the themes is different, and
only together do they form something of a higher, more perfect order.’63 The moment Schoenberg
reintroduced the sonata form into his music the gender symbols and narrative came again into play in
its interpretation. In the following I will suggest such a narrative.
http://me.inberlin.de/~magnus/institut/en/theorie/bilder/theo_13
b6.html
Fig. 5. "Men working as women (St. as a man and
as a woman on the same picture)"
(Hirschfeld: Geschlechtskunde, vol.4, Stuttgart
1930, p.552)
Ex. 1. Schoenberg, Piano Piece, Op. 33a, mm. 1-2 and mm. 10-11
There is something strange about the two main themes of Op. 33a. The first theme (mm. 1-2)
is constructed from chords. Schoenberg avoids customary voice leading and treats the chords almost
as if they were isolated sounds. These chords 'sing'. Not only due to the cantabile indication, but also
because of the curved gesture of the chords (which is in a traditional western behavior of melody),
the dynamics (including the bizarre Brahmsian < > indication on a single chord, exactly at the peak
of this chord-melody) and a legato slur. This theme is strange in another aspect. Although this is a
non-tonal composition, there is a strong sense of movement that is evident in many performances.
There is a crescendo up to the fifth chord, a major seventh, which is traditionally supposed to lead to
the tonic. The gesture is strengthened by the long duration of the last chord.64 Functional tonality is
suspended, yet tonal gestures are clearly at play. There is something 'masculine' about this theme: the
hammering dense chords and the tonal gestures. Yet this theme, which is supposed to behave in a
'masculine' way (according to its position in the sonata), behaves also in a 'feminine' manner: the
chords do not accompany a melody as in homophonic music, but they behave themselves as notes in
63
The translation is from the communication from Peter Bloom in Journal of American Musicological Society 27 (1974):
161-62. Quoted in Susan McClary, Feminine Endings, p. 13.
64
Auner, ‘Schoenberg and His Public in 1930’, p. 113.
12
a melody that flexibly ‘sings’. These contradicting aspects are restated (with variation) in the second
appearance of this subject in mm. 10-11.
http://me.inberlin.de/~magnus/institut/en/theorie/bilder/theo_13b3.html
Fig. 6. "Aunt and niece living as men (transvestites)"
(Hirschfeld: Geschlechtskunde, vol.4, Stuttgart 1930, p.
326)
Ex. 2. Schoenberg, Piano Piece, Op. 33a, mm. 14-18
The second theme (mm. 14-18) behaves similarly, but from the opposite direction. As a
‘feminine’ second theme in a sonata form, it is supposed to be ‘lyrical’, ‘tender’ and ‘flexible’
(according to Marx’s definition). The cantabile, the piano dynamic and the articulations support this
image. Yet ‘flexible’ it is not. If in the first theme there were chords that behaved like a melody, here
one hears polyphony that behaves like static chords. The upper voice is a single note that refuses to
move (becomes slightly more active later in mm. 16-18). There is some movement in the other
voices, however, in a quite poor manner (even the ‘melody’ in the left hand is stuttering65). What is
audible is the persistence and repetition of similar note combinations in the various voices. In other
words, the second subject, who is supposed to ‘sing’, does not behave how it is supposed to. Also
here, the modified return of the subject restates the conflicting attributes of its first appearance. Yet
compared to the ‘active’ and violent (especially in its second appearance banging in mm. 10-11)
‘masculine’ first theme, the second theme is ‘passive’ and therefore it accepts the conventional
sonata ‘feminine’ symbol. By contradicting their traditional gender characteristics, Schoenberg
creates conflict between ‘essence’ and ‘appearance’.
65
Perhaps the low-voice melody reinforces the idea that this passage is being masculinzed.
13
Ex. 3. Schoenberg, Piano Piece, Op. 33a, mm. 23-27
A moment before the development starts one can hear an almost simultaneous entry of
materials based on both binary entities. In m. 25 the indication energish and the ff dynamic, the
'masculine' chords enter violently while a 'feminine' scherzando theme enters in m. 26. The fourmeasure development that follows occurs within the frame of steigernd. This, the serial modulation,
and that each measure occupies a whole line in the score, signifies to the performer and analyst that
the drama of the development is in play. This is the place where the ‘masculine’ protagonist concurs
his place and restores his identity to security.66 There is much chord hammering going around, and
the result is that a figure in the right hand of m. 31 is reversed and appears as the accompaniment of
the first theme that reappears in the recapitulation starting at m. 32.
On the connection between the sonata form and the Bildungsroman where one leans how ‘the proper bourgeois male
was to acquire the strength of purpose to forge an autonomous identity’, see McClary, ‘Constructions of Subjectivity in
Schubert’s Music’, p. 212.
66
14
Ex. 4. Schoenberg, Piano Piece, Op. 33a, mm. 32-33 and mm. 35-36
Also at this point one finds fascinating contradictions. The accompaniment chords are slightly
more ‘normal’ than in the exposition from the point of view of voice leading (at least in the first
three chords). Yet rhythmically, the chords are off beat with relation to the melody in the other hand.
The melody, too, is wired, since it is nervous, pointalistic and it transforms at the end to chords. The
rhythm too adds to the extraordinary situation here where traditional and bizarre appearance, occur
simultaneously. The second theme in the recapitulation (mm 35-36) seems to be more lyrical than in
the exposition. The melody in the left hand sings sweetly, and the accompaniment in the right hand is
not as static as in exposition. Yet this melody is transformed for a short moment to the right hand, to
be squashed by the gradual reappearance of the ‘masculine’ protagonist, which, adhering to the
traditional sonata narrative, crushes the 'feminine' and secures his identity with banging chords.
However, here too, Schoenberg dissolves identities, and the last chord brakes up in a quite 'feminine'
manner, ending on an off beat.
15
Ex. 5. Schoenberg, Piano Piece, Op. 33a, mm. 38-40
George L. Mosse showed in Nationalism and Sexuality that during the nineteenth century
there was a turn in the way the androgynous was conceived.67 While in the first part of that century
the hermaphrodite was regarded as a symbol of human unity, in the second part it was considered as
a monster. Mosse demonstrated that the threat of industrialization and the growth of the middle class
utilized nationalistic thinking. Such thinking encouraged the perception of genders roles as constant
and clear, hence hoping to achieve security in a chaotic world. The hermaphrodite, which contains
both male and female reproductive organs, was now seen as a threat to the idea of constant and
clearly separated gender roles. One expression of this tendency, which was well known to
Schoenberg, was by Otto Weininger (Schoenberg dedicated his Harmonielehre to Weininger) who
wrote in his Geschlecht und Charakter that Jews behave like women and not man, since they cannot
control their passions. Schoenberg’s famous letters to Kandinsky from 1923 and his play Der
Biblische Weg demonstrates an increasing awareness to his Jewish Identity. At the same time, it is
well known that Schoenberg had German nationalistic sentiments. This conflict and the fact that
Schoenberg was aware of the rising power of Nazism68 created a sense of alienation. Conservative
circles in Germany wanted to exclude the Jewish, homosexual, hermaphrodite and transgender
people from society. Therefore, it does not come as a surprise that Schoenberg, being a Jew and a
modernist, might have secretly identified (at least to a certain extent) with such ‘outsiders’.
Schoenberg was the one who claimed and demonstrated at the beginning of the twentieth
century that ‘tonality is no natural law of music’ but a social convention.69 The way he constructed
his themes in Op. 33a suggest the he might have attempted to cast similar doubt on the gender
conventions associated with the sonata themes. It is fascinating that Schoenberg constructed such
themes in the very same years and city where the Ludwig Levi-Lentz started to treat transvestites,
not as homosexuals or mentally ill people (as they were commonly treated in western society), but as
people whose ‘inner’ gender does not correspond to their ‘appearance’. In both cases, what was seen
as ‘natural’ is now seen as a social construct that can be manipulated according to one’s wish. As one
of the leading artists of the epoch, Schoenberg was well immersed in the social and cultural issues
that occupied the Weimar Republic.
One may argue that Schoenberg actually criticized some of the liberal tendencies of the
Weimar Republic. The opera Von Heute auf Morgen makes fun of „modern type“ and perhaps there
is a sense of fun in the somewhat transgender pseudonym Max Blonda (whom Gertrud Schoenberg
used as the libretist). Similarily, one might interpret Schoenberg’s transgender narratives in Op. 33a,
not as an identification with the Other (as suggested above), but as mocking the protagonists that are
presented there. Either interpretation can be manifested in performance in very different ways.
67
George L. Mosse, Nationalism and Sexuality: Middle-Class Morality and Sexual Norms in Modern Europe (The
University of Wisconsin Press, 1985).
68
On the 24 May 1932 he wrote to Dr. Joseph Asch that he is in Barcelona ‘for reasons of health, and on these grounds,
but also because of political conditions, am very reluctant to go back to Germany at this juncture.’ Later at this letter he
writes: ‘Will you see if you can get some rich Jews to provide for me so that I don’t have to go back to Berlin among the
swastika-swaggerers and pogromists?’ (Schoenberg, Letters, pp. 163-164)). Schoenberg’s awarness to the threat of Hitler
can be found in a letter to Kandinsky dated 4 May 1923 (Ibid., p. 89).
69
Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 9.
16
Whether he identified with the Other, mocked the Other, or did both at the same time, it is not
surprising that Schoenberg had chosen the non verbal idiom instrumental music to deal with this
highly charged issue.
Gender narratives in early recordings
In the following section I will seek to relate to what performers do and listeners may hear by turning
to recordings. I will start by briefly examining the short history of theoretical inquiry in performance
narratives. It was Joel Lester who argued that acknowledging ‘that performances are relevant to
analysis will also dramatically broaden the repertoire that theorists call upon when making analytical
assertions… Performers could enter analytical dialogue as performers – as artistic/intellectual equals,
not as intellectual inferiors who need to learn from theorists.’70 It was perhaps L. H. Shaffer who was
the first to suggest that the performer (and not only the composer( creates a narrative during
performance: ‘If we … suppose that music can convey an abstract narrative, then we can think of the
musical structure as describing an implicit event, and the gestures of musical expression as
corresponding to the emotional gestures of an implicit protagonist who witnesses or participates in
the event’.71 Shaffer is suggesting here something quite revolutionary: instead of reducing the
performer’s acts to local deviations from structure, he grants them a higher status relating to actions
that work on a more global level. Yet Shaffer is reluctant to grant performers full credit. He
differentiates between ‘structure’ and ‘expression’, relating the former to ‘event’ (constructed by the
composer alone) and the latter to ‘emotional gestures’ that are external to the ‘event’. Structure, in
other words, is superior and differentiated from expression. Eric Clarke had recently argued that
‘when a performer “characterizes” a piece in performance, he or she is constructing meaning through
expression… since expression itself is part of the meaning of the music, and not just a vehicle for it,
this casts into doubt the “generative” view as a whole – the idea that expression is generated from
either structure or meaning.’72
The performance narratives that I will offer assume that performers do not merely project a
narrative constructed by the composer. They take part in the construction itself. In the realm of
literature, for example, a narrative enfolds in it basic traits that are common to many stories. When
one examines the relation between composition and performance, a musical narrative contains traits
that are common to many performances. Yet these, I argue, cannot be reduced to the score, but to a
specific a group of performances. The performers and composer (and other people that influence the
creating, performance and reception of the music) construct together a narrative. Performance, in
other words, is seen as a social melting pot where musical meaning is shaped. The narrative that I
described in relation to the score is not more generic than the performance narratives that I will
describe in the following. Score narratives are not on a higher ontological level than those of
performance. The relation, we will see, is more fluid and complex.
I do not argue that the performers in the following recordings necessarily intended (or not
intended) to ‘bring out’ a sonata form in their interpretation. I do not claim that they intended (or not
intended) to ‘bring out’ gender narratives (although gender tropes were in use way into the 1960s in
pedagogical descriptions of sonata form).73 What they intended is less interesting than what they did
Joel Lester, ‘Performance and analysis: interaction and interpretation’ in ed. John Rink, The Practice of Performance:
Studies in Musical Interpretation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), pp. 213-214.
71
L. H. Schaffer, ‘How to interpret music’ in eds., M. R. Jones and S. Holleran, Cognitive Bases of Musical
Communication (Washington: American Psychological Association, 1992), p. 26. Quoted in Eric Clarke, ‘Expression in
Performance: generativity, perception and semiosis’ in ed. John Rink, The Practice of Performance, p.26. Willian
Rothstein wrote: ‘The performer’s aim in undertaking analysis is not only to understand the work for its own sake … but
to discover, or create, a musical narrative… [The] performer synthesizes this narrative from all he or she knows and feels
about the work; listeners, in turn, will construct their own narratives, guided by the performer.’ William Rothstein,
‘Analysis and the act of performance’, in ed. John Rink, The Practice of performance, 237. See also Jonthan Dunsby,
Performing Music Shared Concerns (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), pp. 82ff; and John Rink, ‘Translating
Musical Meaning: The Nineteenth-Century Performer as Narrator’, in eds. Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 217-238.
72
Eric Clarke, ‘Understanding the psychology of performance’ in ed. John Rink, Musical Performance: a Guide to
Understanding, p. 68.
73
McClary, Feminine Endings, p. 13.
70
17
in practice. The moment a listener has a preconception of a possibility of sonata narratives in this
piece, the recordings are heard as in the following. The sonata narrative preconception helps to
construct specific meaning in the acts of the performers regardless of their intentions. This meaning
is not subjective, but intersubjective, as it can be easily shared by others. I am interested in
understanding how listeners (with such a preconception) and performers are co-creators in the
construction of meaning with regards to the sonata-form narratives. Pianists do not merely ‘bring
out’ a priory meaning. They have an active part (even if it is done without intention) in manipulating,
changing and creating narratives and intersubjective meanings.
In our ‘politically correct’ age one might feel discomfort with the gender mappings that I will
execute in a moment. In order to avoid any misunderstanding, I would like to state my distance from
essentializing acts that connect the masculine gender with ‘strong’ and the feminine with ‘gentle’. I
am not particularly interested in prolonging the outmoded binary gender identifications of sonata
themes. Yet, if paintings of Otto Dix and George Grosz can communicate to us provocating and
shocking images of hookers and woonded soldiers, then similarily performances of Schoenberg’s
music may imbody meanings that one might feel uncomfterbale with. I am interesting to examine
how performances communicate, influence and contribute to such potentially disturbing meanings.
Each one of the pianists in this study is an authority in the performance of Schoenberg’s
piano music. The recordings span the period between the years 1952 and 1965.74 The pianists are
Else C. Kraus (1899-1979), Leonard Stein (1917-2004), Edward Steuermann (1892-1964), Paul
Jacobs (1930-1983), and Glenn Gould (1932-1982).75 There are great differences between the
pianists with regards to their style of performing, technique, virtuosity, imagination and celebrity
(Gould being the most famous and Kraus, possibly, the most unknown). Kraus was a student of
Schnabel. She performed the premier of the piece on 30 January 1931 at Berlin. She was the first to
record Schoenberg’s complete piano solo pieces in 1952.76 Busoni sent Steuermann to study
composition with Schoenberg. He was part of Schoenberg’s circle, notably, as the pianist of the
Verein für Musikalische Privataufführungen. He played in the premiers of many of Schoenberg’s
compositions. Stein learned piano with Richard Buhlig (who, like Steuermann, studied with Busoni
in Berlin). Stein was also Scheonberg’s student, his teaching assistant and later his personal assistant
until the composer’s death. Jacobs graduated at 1951 from the Julliard School of Music, he moved,
thereafter, to France and worked in Boulez’s Domaine Musical and the new music courses in
Darmstadt. He performed many premiers of contemporary music, and was the first to perform (1956)
and record all of Schoenberg’s music for piano solo in Paris. Since 1961 and until his death in 1983
he was the New York Philharmonic’s official pianist and harpsichordist. Kraus, Stein and Jacobs
have recorded Op. 33a twice. All of these performers, except Jacobs, have written about
Schoenberg’s music in general and some wrote especially about his piano music.77 All pianists were
74
Leonard Stein, Columbia ML 5099 mono (1956) LP. Edward Steuermann, Columbia ML 5216 mono (recorded: 1, 2,
4 or 7 January 1957) LP. Paul Jacobs, Ducretet Thomson 320 C 125 (1958) LP. Else C. Kraus (recorded: Holland, July
1960), Bärenreiter Musicaphon BM 30 L 1503 mono (1960?) LP. Glenn Gould, Columbia M2L 336 (ML 6216/17) mono
(recorded: 30th Street Studio, New York, NY, 16 & 18 November 1965) LP. Leonard Stein, Time Life TL 146 mono
(1967?) LP.
75
I will not refer here to Charles Rosen’s excellent recording (Charles Rosen, Epic BC 1140 stereo (1961) LP) of the
piece since I feel that it is not needed for the purpose of my argument.
76
Else C. Kraus, Esquire TW 14-001 mono (1952?) LP. I could not locate this recording. It does not exist in the
Schoenberg Archive in Wien, nor in the Sound Archive of the British Library. I neither could find it in the catalogue of
the New York Public Library, yet, I am convinced that since this is a commercial recording it must exist somewhere. The
observations in this study relate to her second recording of the piece from around 1960.
77
Kraus, Else C., ‘Schönbergs Klavierwerk steht lebendig vor mir’, Melos III (1974): 134-140; Leonard Stein, ‘Playing
in Time for Schoenberg’ in Markus Grassl and Reinhard Kapp, Die Lehre von der musikalischen Aufführung in der
Wiener Schule. Verhandlungen des Internationalen Collegiums Wien 1995 (Wien, Köln, Weimar: Böhlau Verlag, 2002),
pp. 61-70; and Leonard Stein, ‘Some Problems of Tempo in Schoenberg's Music’ in ed. Dünki Jean-Jacques Anton
Haefeli and Regula Rapp, Der Grad der Bewegung. Tempovorstellungen und -konzepte in Komposition und
Interpretation 1900-1950 (Bern: Peter Lang, 1998); Leonard Stein, ‘”Die Braune Sauce” The Significance of the Pedal in
Schoenberg's Piano Music’ in eds. Andersen Mogens Niels Bo Foltmann and Claus Røllum Larsen, Festskrift Jan
Maegaard, 14. 4. 1996 (Copenhagen: Engstrøm & Sødring, 1996), pp. 111-115; Leonard Stein, ‘The Performance of
Serial and Twelve-Tone Music for the Piano’, DMA dissertation, (University of Southern California, 1965).
Steuermann, Edward, The Not Quite Innocent Bystander, eds. Clara Steuermann, David Porter and Gunter Schuller,
trans. Richard Cantwell and Charles Messner (Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1989); Glenn Gould,
18
active in the promotion of Schoenberg’s music through performance, writings and often in other
ways.78
Steuermann, Stein and Kraus were in contact with the composer in various degrees. This, it
seems to me, had probably affected their interpretation in the sense that they were reluctant to take
the liberties in performance as the latter generation did. Paradoxically, it is the performance of
Jacobs and Gould that ‘brings out’ in a more emphasized way the gender contradictions in the
narrative that I discussed above.
The faithful disciples: Else C. Kraus and Edward Steuermann
[Sound ex. 1. Kraus mm. 1-21]
Kraus starts with a slow tempo and much rubato, carefully constructing the first theme so that it
sounds somewhat ‘mysterious’. Mm. 1-13 sound as one piece (hear Sound ex. 1), in fact, much of
what happens in mm. 3-9 also receives much attention as Kraus ‘sings’ every detail (unlike Jacobs
who, as we will see, rushes through this passage). The second appearance of the first theme at mm.
10-11 does not imply a change in character. The second theme enters in m. 14 in a sudden and
rushed manner (she ignores the molto rit. at m. 13). The faster tempo and the jumpy articulations
project a character that is very different than the character of the first theme. In m. 19 she stops the
‘feminine’ theme with a sudden and (relatively to Kraus) aggressive appearance of the ‘masculine’
protagonist. Kraus ignores the cadential pause preceding the final ‘tonic’ in m. 32 (although she does
prolong the last note of the development and this does create a sense of sectional ending). She rushes
though the second subject in the recapitulation and ends the piece in a very ‘masculine’ manner (hear
Sound ex. 2).
[Sound ex. 2. Kraus mm. 31-40]
Kraus’s ‘masculine’ protagonist is ‘mysterious’ and the ‘feminine’ ‘Other’79 seems ‘light’
and even ‘thoughtless’ (due to the jumpy articulations). Her performance underlines the traditional
romantic sonata form by constructing different characters to the themes. The form is further
strengthened due to the crushing of the Other in the development as well as reestablishing the now
secured ‘masculine’ protagonist in the recapitulation. Nevertheless, transgender performance is
evident in Kraus’s playing since the contradicting attributes of the themes are clearly ‘brought out’.
Steuermann’s performance gives much attention to detail and where others rush80 - he takes
his time. His performance score shows a concern with grouping (see Fig. 8), and a worry about the
right pitches (in m. 22 where he annotates an A flat with a question mark above the a’’ flat, and
elsewhere).81 In a letter dated 1949 from Schoenberg to Steuermann regarding the latter’s recording
of Schoenberg's piano music, he writes: ‘I do not at all share your anxiety lest anyone should hear a
wrong note. I am convinced that it had happened only a few times in the history of musical
reproduction that some wrong note did not come in.’ He stressed: ‘I am convinced that you can play
music so convincingly that it evokes the impression of purity, artistic purity, and, after all, that's what
matters. Let’s leave this quasi-perfection to those who can’t perceive anything else’.82
‘The piano music of Arnold Schoenberg’ in ed. Tim Page, The Glenn Gould Reader (New York: Vintage, 1990), pp.
122-127 (there are more writings of Gould on Schoenberg in this book). Gould also made broadcasts of Schoenberg.
78
Newspaper reviews mention Kraus as a pianist who promotes Schoenberg’s music. Stein edited many of Schoenberg’s
books. He was the director of the Schoenberg Institute (1975-1991). Steuermann edited Schoenberg’s piano music scores
for the complete edition.
79
I borrow this term from what originated from continental philosophy and is today wide spread in many stands of
philosophical and cultural studies. See also the discussion at the last part of this article.
80
A most striking example can be found in mm. 19-20.
81
See Perle, Serial Composition, p. 113n for a discussion concerning this place.
82
Arnold Schoenberg, Letters (London: Faber & Faber, 1964), p. 277.
19
Fig. 8. Steuermann’s performance score of Schoenberg’s Piano Piece, Op. 33a, mm. 4-5.
Nevertheless, when Schoenberg heard this recording he wrote to Steuermann: ‘Op 33a is, especially
in the beginning, too fast and somewhat indistinctly [played]. The “rits”, too, should have better
came out.’83 At the end of his comments of the recording of the piano pieces he adds: ‘However,
these [comments] are nothing, and I would be very happy if in all my recordings no larger mistakes
[Verstöße] would be found.’84
Since Steuermann gives much attention to both themes, their contradicting aspects towards
their traditional position in the sonata form are revealed in his performance; he ‘brings out’ faithfully
the contradictions in Schoenberg’s narrative (hear Sound examples 3 and 4).
[Sound ex. 3. Steuermann, first theme, mm. 1-2]
[Sound ex. 4. Steuermann, second theme, mm. 14-20]
The performances of Kraus and Steuermann do not change the narrative that I described
while analyzing Schoenberg’s score. Their contribution, as significant as it is, is not on the level of
‘narrative’, but on the level of the details of each specific ‘story’. The following performances
deviate from the score in a manner that has significant influence, since new ‘narratives’ are clearly
created.
Constructions of new narratives: Leonard Stein, Paul Jacobs and Glenn Gould
[Sound ex. 5. Stein, first recording, first theme, mm. 1-2]
[Sound ex. 6. Stein, first recording, first theme – second appearance, mm. 10-11]
From the perspective of the intentions of the performer to be ‘faithful’ to the score, Stein probably
belongs more to the previous group of performers. I present his performance in this context due to
the fact that the manner he plays changes Schoenberg’s narrative in a significant way.
Stein’s performance score is an ideal example of Wallace Barry’s ‘path from analysis to
Performance’.85 Stein notates the series at the top of the first page and elsewhere (see Figs. 6 and 7).
‘op 33a ist, insbesondere im Anfang, zu rasch und etwas undeutlich. Auch sollten hier die “rits” besser
herauskommen.’ 20 April 1949, http://www.schoenberg.at/lettersneu/search_show_letter.php?ID_Number=4986
84
‘Das sind aber Kleinigkeiten und ich wäre sehr glücklich, wenn in allen meinen Platten keine größeren Verstöße zu
finden sein sollten.’ Ibid.
85
See Wallace Berry, Musical Structure and Performance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), p. 10. For a
criticism of this see Nicholas Cook, ‘Between Process and Product: Music and/as Performance’ in Music Theory Online,
Vol. 7, No. 2, (2001), http://societymusictheory.org/mto/issues/mto.01.7.2/mto.01.7.2.cook.html
83
20
The score contains a 12 tone analysis (series, groups of notes, segmentation, intervals and the
relation of the first three chords to the last three within the first theme) as well as many performance
indications such as the length of e’’ in m. 4 and the emphasis of g’’ sharp at m. 5. These indications
show the great concern Stein had with transmitting Schoenberg’s music in the clearest manner. Mark
Swed wrote that Stein ‘valued clarity above all, and he had the rare ability to make immediate sonic
sense of structurally complex music, especially that written in the 12-tone system.’86 In spite of the
many annotations relating to 12 tone analysis, Stein performance cannot be reduced to an ‘objective’
or ‘faithful’ performance.
Stein marked mm. 1-2 as ‘Theme’ (see Fig. 6).87 In his first recording, Stein simply plays
through the first theme. He ignores the cantabile, legato slur and other indications there
(Schoenberg’s articulations are often overlooked also in many other places). Due to the lack of pedal,
the articulations and phrasing, the interpretation sounds very dry. By doing this Stein erases all the
‘feminine’ attributes of the first theme and group. He erases the complex contradictions within the
themes in order to ‘bring out’ a conventional sonata form narrative (not that of Schoenberg). Stein
constructs a change of character in the second ‘feminine’ theme (m. 14). He even notated ‘Softer’
above this theme (see Fig. 7). There is a strong contrast between the almost ‘simplistic’ first theme
and its lyrical Other. The ‘feminine’ melody is emphasized in mm. 21-22 (hear Sound ex. 7) as it is
in the recapitulation (m. 35, after the first theme is rushed through; hear Sound ex. 8). The narrative
is of a ‘shallow’ and ‘simplistic’ ‘masculine’ protagonist who concurs a lyrical and ‘soft’ ‘feminine’
Other.
[Sound ex. 7. Stein, first recording, mm. 21-22]
[Sound ex. 8. Stein, first recording, mm. 32-36]
Mark Swed, ‚Leonard Stein, 87; Schoenberg Institute Chief, Pianist, Teacher’,
http://www.pianospheres.org/archive.html, retrieved at 5 March 2008
87
He also notated ‘Var. I’ (first variation) above m. 3 and ‘Var. II’ just after the middle of m. 5.
86
21
Fig. 6. Leonard Stein’s performance score of Schoenberg’s Piano Piece, Op. 33a, mm. 1-5.
Fig. 7. Leonard Stein’s performance score of Schoenberg’s Piano Piece, Op. 33a, second theme, mm. 14-15.
In his second recording, Stein plays in a slower tempo. Here he gives some sense to the
cantabile with some (although not much) rubato and dynamic nuance. This, however, does not avoid
the construction of what I called a ‘simplistic’ character in the first group. Stein, perhaps more
adheres to the written symbols here, yet it all sounds very dry. In spite of the slow tempo of the first
22
theme, he manages also in this recording to create contrasting characters to the two main themes. The
narrative does not change between the two recordings.
The interpretations of Kraus, Steuermann and Stein ‘bring out’ the binary themes of the
sonata form narrative. While these pianists seek to be ‘faithful’ to the score, Jacobs and Gould grant
themselves much more license (with relation to score indications) to interpret it. Another aspect that
is common to the performances that were just discussed, is that the protagonist’s identity is relatively
stable within each performance. In the performances of Jacobs and Gould something different
occurs.
In the first two measures of Jacobs’s first recording, he introduces the first theme with all its
complexity and nuances, and the ‘feminine’ attributes of this ‘masculine’ theme are ‘brought out’.
However, immediately thereafter, he rushes through mm. 3-9 (he practically shortens the length of
some of the measures), giving the impression of nervousness (hear Sound ex. 9). The following
might explain this nervousness.
[Sound ex. 9. Jacobs, first recordings, mm. 1-16]
The second appearance of the first subject (mm. 10-11) is very violent. No rubato can be found here.
The normal ‘masculine’ attributes of this ‘feminine’ theme are now emphasized and brought into
play. The second theme is drastically different – it is soft, played with rubato and many articulation
nuances. Although the indication a tempo is written above both mm. 10 and 14., Jacobs interprets the
first place (m. 10) as quarter = 132 ca. and the second place (m. 14) as quarter = 88 ca. (which is
slower that the tempo of the start of the piece: quarter = 96 ca.). His manipulation of tempo has
much responsibility in the creation of narrative drama. Jacobs accelerates the ‘masculinity’ of the
protagonist with the help of virtuosic playing. Consider his violent and extremely fast playing of
mm. 19-20 (hear Sounds ex. 10 and compare it to Steuermann’s playing of these measures where one
does not sense such energy and violent ‘masculinity’ in Sound ex. 4).
[Sound ex. 10. Jacobs, first recording, mm. 19-20]
Jacob stresses the connection of the recapitulation with the first theme at the start of the piece by
emphasizing the first note of each group of six eights (this is not the practice of most pianists). By
doing this he underlines the presence of ‘masculinity’ in the narrative.
Also in Jacob’s second recording one hears an aggressive attack in the second entrance of the
first theme (mm. 10-11, hear Sound ex. 11), which gives a more ‘masculine’ identity to it. This mf is
interpreted as sff and the dynamic sign < > is ignored. In both recordings he magnifies what seems to
me as an essential component of his and Schoenberg’s narrative: the ability of the first theme to
project contrasting attributes of ‘masculinity’ and ‘femininity’.
[Sound ex. 11. Jacobs, second recording, mm. 10-11]
Similar aggressiveness can be found in mm. 19-20 where Jacobs plays faster (eighth = 108
ca.) and ignores the poco rit. at the end of m. 20. In both performances there is a big difference in
character between the two themes. Although Jacobs manages to maintain the traditional opposition
of themes while playing with the contradicting aspects of the first theme in its various appearances,
he does not play with the multiple identities of the second 'feminine' theme.88 This suggests that the
narrative that Jacobs constructs is of a transgender ‘masculine’ protagonist who is threatened by the
presence of a ‘feminine’ Other, in a sense that he is forced to conform to social expectations and
There might be a connection between Jacobs play with the contradicting of the ‘masculine’ theme and his sexual
preferences (Jacobs was one of the first victims of AIDS). I am reluctant to argue a definite connection due to a
possibility of misinterpretation and because such a connection seems to me not very significant to the argument in this
article. See Susan McClary, ‘Constructions of Subjectivity in Schubert’s Music’, in ed. Brett, Wood, and Thomas.
Queering the Pitch (New York: Routledge, 1994), pp. 205-33.
88
23
behave in a ‘masculine’ manner. This ‘masculinity’ is extreme and exaggerated due to the external
threat of the Other and the protagonist’s inner insecurity with its own identity.
Before discussing Gould’s recording, it would be useful to mention that Leonard Stein argued
in an article that ‘Schoenberg refers to the effect caused by the overuse of the pedal as “die braune
Sauce” [the brown sauce] which covers up the ideas and contents of the music and results in a lack of
clarity.’89 Stein’s interpretations were the ones that most avoided the use of the pedal. Yet one should
not conclude from this that an interpretation that uses much pedal, as the one of Gould, is against the
oral performance tradition of the composer. Stein mentions that unlike earlier pieces, in ‘the two
pieces of Op. 33 and the Piano Concerto, Op. 42 – pedal indications rarely appear, either because
Schoenberg assumed that pianists had become better acquainted with his intentions … or that the
style of writing for the piano was less “severe” than in his earlier pieces.’90 When Stein refers to
Schoenberg’s ‘style of writing for the piano’ he does not assume that the composer might have
changed his mind concerning the exclusion of the pedal from his piano music. Stein writes:
‘Schoenberg, in any case, wanted to emphasize – possibly by exaggeration – that his music demands
clear articulation in every respect.’91 I have argued elsewhere that Schoenberg’s conception of the
role of the performer concerning the concept of the musical idea has significantly changed during his
life. In the 1930s he wrote that perhaps the performer (and not only the composer) has part in the
presentation of the musical idea, and that performance must be based, not on ‘faithfulness’ to the
score, but on interpretation.92 It seems to me that the relative absence of pedal annotations in the late
piano compositions is not from the reasons that Stein mentions, but from a change in Schoenberg’s
thinking concerning the role of the pianist, granting the possibility to use the pedal as he or she
wishes. This creates (for those who care about the intentions of the composer) the possibility to
understand Gould’s generous use of pedal as something that is not out of the intended performance
style.
Gould creates a dream-like atmosphere with the help of an extremely slow tempo93 and a
generous pedal (hear Sound ex. 12). Yet unlike in the playing of the other pianists mentioned in this
study, the second subject here does not sound so different when it enters at m. 14. If Jacobs played
with the gender identities of the first theme, Gould is playing with the identities of the two different
themes (by equating them). If Stein erases ‘femininity’ from his first theme, it is Gould who castrates
‘masculinity’ from his first theme. Gould complained in an article he wrote that the ‘two pieces of
Op. 33 ... are a bit of a let down... the vertical aspects of the tone-row technique had not yet been
assimilated, and the result is a somewhat pedestrian exposition of three- and four-note superpositions
decorated by what are for Schoenberg rather rigid melodic ideas.’94 This recording can be seen as
Gould’s attempt to recompose the piece and make the melodic ideas more flexible, less rigid and one
may add: more ‘feminine’.95
[Sound ex. 12. Gould mm. 1-5]
It could be argued that Gould is going against the sonata form, and in a sense he does – but
only for a moment. He creates a sudden awakening of the ‘masculine’ attributes at mm. 19-20 (where
the first real contrast happens: hear Sound ex. 13). Here there is a drastic tempo change from quarter
Stein, ‘”Die Braune Sauce” The Significance’, p. 111.
Ibid., p. 115.
91
Ibid.
92
See Byron, ‘Schoenberg as Performer’, chapter 3.
93
For a discussion of Gould’s slow tempo see Andrew Kazdin, Genn Gould at Work: Creative lying (New York: Dutton,
1989), p. 17.
94
Gould, ‘The piano music of Arnold Schoenberg’, p. 128.
95
As I mentioned in footnote ??? concerning Jacobs, also here I feel reluctant to suggest a definite connection between
Gould’s sexual preferences and his interpretation. Here it is even more the case since Gould’s sexual preferences are
shrouded with mystery. He is suspect of being gay yet no clear evidence has emerged grounding this issue. For a
discussion of this point and a fascinating biography of Glenn Gould see Kevin Bazzana, Wondrous Strange (New Haven
and London: Yale University Press, 2004).
89
90
24
= 60 to quarter = 88. Gould returns to the previous tempo at m. 21 and moves to an even faster
tempo and m. 25. It is in the development that a virtuosic drama occurs.96
[Sound ex. 13. Gould mm. 10-20]
After a ‘masculine’ concur in the development the first theme sounds less like a theme than a
transition (unlike Jacobs, Gould does not emphasize this theme in any manner) leading to the
‘feminine’ theme at m. 35. By doing this, Gould weakens even more the possibility to interpret his
recording as imbedding a sonata form. The tempo at this place is the slowest in this piece (quarter =
46), but this is crashed in the standard way by the ‘masculine’ protagonist in the final cadence.
As he often does with other pieces, Gould constructs a drastically different narrative than
other pianists. The two themes which are portrayed as ‘feminine’ are struggling with a ‘masculine’
protagonist starting at m. 19. This point in the narrative can be interpreted as an awakening of the
contradicting attributes of the first theme that were latent until this point (as I suggested above), or as
a new theme.97 In any case, this ‘masculinity’ receives its traditional position as the hero that
overcomes all obstacles through the development and especially at the end of the piece. Gould
presents the ‘feminine’ Other first, yet ends the sonata narrative in a traditional manner with relation
to the victory of the ‘masculine’ protagonist.
Thomas Schultz mentioned that Leonard Stein told him that he discussed the ‘issue of the accepted
hierarchy of composer/performer with Schoenberg. When he proposed the equality and, even,
superiority of the (in this case) pianist to the composer, in the light of the pianist’s versatility,
experience with a wider range of music than the composer, and constant exposure to the real physical
problems of making music by playing an instrument, Schoenberg simply wouldn't hear of it, and the
conversation went no further.’98 Schoenberg’s writing from the 1930s and 1940s show a more
complex position towards this issue.99 At any rate, this study reveals that early recordings of Op. 33a
are not only different from each other: three of the performers construct narratives in a manner that is
not less significant than the acts of the composer himself. This study showed that these performers
take a very active part in the construction of intersubjective meaning and what they do has a direct
and significant effect on how listeners perceive it.
It is amazing how these early pianists interpret the score in radically different ways. The
personal signature of each performer is evident in each performance. Kraus and Steuermann ‘bring
out’ faithfully the contradictions in Schoenberg’s narrative. There are differences between their
performances, yet these are not on the level of ‘narrative’. The other pianists, however, do make
significant changes and co-create with Schoenberg new narratives. Stein erases the complex
contradictions within the themes in order to ‘bring out’ a ‘normal’ sonata form narrative. Jacobs and
Gould maintain these contradictions, but in different ways. Jacobs transgender ‘masculine’
protagonist is threatened by the presence of a ‘feminine’ Other and is forced to conform and behave
in a ‘masculine’ manner. Gould presents the ‘feminine’ Other first (by ‘bringing out’ that ‘feminine’
aspects of the two transgender themes), yet he ends the sonata narrative in a traditional manner: the
‘masculine’ protagonist concurs his place.
Analysis as an act of creating meaning
Rink identifies two kinds of analysis: prescriptive analysis that is done ‘prior to, and possibly serving
as a basis of, a given performance’; and descriptive analysis that is an ‘analysis of the performance
itself’.100 The analysis of Op. 33a presented in my article does not fall easily into these binary
categories. It is descriptive in the sense that it describes existing early performances. Yet it is
96
Gould clearly attached significance to the serial modulation at this point of the composition.
Bailey’s sonata form analysis of Op. 33a identifies three themes. I would not be surprised if she was listening to
Gould’s recording while analyzing the piece. See Bailey, ‘Schoenberg’s Piano Sonata’.
98
Thomas Schultz, ‘Remembering Leonard Stein’, October, 2004, http://www.pianospheres.org/archive.html [retrieved
on 21 March 2008].
99
See Byron, ‘Schoenberg as Performer’, chapter 3.
100
Rink, ‘Performance and/as analysis’, p. 37.
97
25
prescriptive since it creates the possibility of sharing a new interpretation and way of listening to
these performances. It also provides concepts that may serve as a basis of future performances. The
methodology that I have used here continues Rink’s idea of analysis that is more relevant to
performers. Moreover, it suggests the use of the concept of gender is helpful in order to come into
terms with this piece in a way that transcends mere abstract musical terms. To be sure, different
approaches that do not imply narrativity can be valid in order to deal with this music. Nevertheless,
the use of analytical methods that relate to the performances and the ‘structure’ of the composition,
on the one hand, and pointing out significant social and cultural issues, on the other hand, help to
discuss what music means or could mean to various groups and individuals, among them: performers
and analysts.
26