Anton von Webern’s Quartet for violin, clarinet, tenor saxophone, and piano, op. 22

The composer

Anton von Webern was born in Vienna, Austria, in 1883. (The predicate von identified those of aristocratic heritage until a 1918 revolution outlawed its use; the composer’s works were published under the name Anton Webern.) His father’s career in mining engineering caused the von Webern family to move several times during Anton’s youth; in Klagenfurt at the turn of the century he studied piano and music theory under Edwin Komauer. He also learned to play the cello and participated in community orchestras. His earliest compositions, for piano and cello, date from this period. In 1902 he was deeply impressed by performances of several Wagner operas, and entered the University of Vienna to study musicology and composition. Before receiving a doctoral degree in 1906, he began studying privately with Arnold Schoenberg.

Upon leaving Schoenberg’s tutelage, Webern and fellow Schoenberg protégé Alban Berg began experimenting in earnest with their teacher’s method of twelve-tone composition. Webern worked as a conductor in several theaters, but preferred to concentrate on composition. In 1911 he married his first cousin, Wilhelmine Mörtl, with whom he had three children.

Webern found parallels between twelve-tone composition and the music of the Renaissance he had studied in Vienna—both endorsed classical strictness of form and complex polyphony. Other influences on Webern’s work included authors such as Johann Goethe and poet Hildegard Jone. (Information in this section is from antonwebern.com, a web site published by Pixelrush.)

The composition

Webern’s Op. 22, Quartet for Violin, Clarinet, Tenor Saxophone, and Piano, was first conceived in September 1928. A detailed account of its creation is found in Anton von Webern: A Chronicle of His Life and Work, by Hans and Rosaleen Moldenhauer. According to their narrative, Webern wrote to his publisher, “I have turned again to a new work: a concerto for violin, clarinet, horn, piano, and string orchestra—in the spirit of some of Bach’s Brandenburg concertos.” He outlined in his sketchbook a three-movement work with themes inspired by several Austrian locations apparently having personal significance. The following year, a letter to Alban Berg indicated that the work was nearing completion, and had changed its form and instrumentation and length—two movements, rather than three—to that of the work that would eventually be published.

Webern was distracted by other projects and did not complete the quartet until September of 1930. It was performed shortly thereafter in Vienna, to harsh abuse from music critics. Webern’s fellow composers of the Second Viennese School, however, deemed it a masterpiece. Berg wrote, “This Quartet is a miracle. What amazes me above all is its originality. One can assert with confidence that there is nothing in the entire world of music production that attains even approximately such a degree of originality, i.e. a full hundred percent.” Schoenberg called it “fabulous.”

Analysis: Sehr mäßig

The first movement, Sehr mäßig (very moderate), most resembles a sonata form. The five-measure introduction to the first movement uses two simultaneous tone rows, P7 and I5. (The second movement was composed first, so the first tone row presented in that movement is labeled P0 in most published analyses.) These rows are passed between the violin, saxophone, and piano, immediately demonstrating the sparse, pointillistic texture of the piece. The clarinet plays only two notes, consecutive staccato F-sharps (all pitches are expressed here as concert pitches). These F-sharps reveal much about Op. 22. F# is the point of intersection between the two rows of the introduction when organized in a matrix, and also their point of intersection in these opening melodic lines. This device is used almost constantly throughout the first movement; virtually every row form is used in combination with that row which it intersects at F#. Pierre Boulez points out in the liner notes to the London Symphony recording that the F# above middle C is played twice, staccato, in each instance. This F# is also the registral axis of symmetry of the first movement.

Kathryn Bailey’s thorough analysis of Quartet in The Twelve-note music of Anton Webern is invaluable in understanding the piece (pp. 171-178). Bailey explains that the exposition introduces the two main themes of the first movement. The primary theme is played by the saxophone, row I7 followed by I1. In a departure from traditional sonata form, the second theme is introduced almost simultaneously. This second theme is in the form of a mirror cannon with F# as the reflecting point. It is played by the piano, violin, and clarinet, with the second part of the canon following the first by one sixteenth note. The exposition is repeated, for a total of twenty measures.

The development section consists of four units of three bars each. The development uses more dramatic intervals and greater dynamic contrast, and moves more quickly through row forms. The first, second, and fourth units, however, have only two simultaneous voices, compared to three in the exposition. Each of these also uses two tone rows. The third unit, the climax of the movement, uses five simultaneous voices (each hand of the pianist playing a separate voice) and four tone rows. Each of the row forms is used in the climax, at T6 (P6, I6, R6, and RI6). The climax is indicated by the extreme high and low pitches of the movement, a high and a low C, each two octaves and a fifth from the central F# (Bailey 171).

The recapitulation presents the themes again with their original row forms and transpositions, though the leaps are inverted (for example, in the exposition, the first theme begins on C#, moves up to E, then down to F; in the recapitulation, it begins on C#, moves down to E, then up to F). Rhythmic development in the piano creates more frequent two-note “chords” (Bailey 174).

Development and recapitulation are each repeated, with only a very slight variation in the piano in the final bar of the recapitulation. The five-measure coda then presents the introductory rows again, this time in retrograde form.

Analysis: Sehr schwungvoll

Webern wrote several letters and sketchbook entries regarding the form of Sehr schwungvoll (with much momentum), the second movement of Quartet. His comments on the movement, however, are of questionable value in its interpretation, since it seems to have undergone a series of metamorphoses in development. An early sketch indicates a rough ABACABCA form, though Webern also apparently remarked on the movement’s “exact analogy” to a scherzo from Beethoven’s piano sonata op. 14 (A[B]ACADA). Webern’s finished product, though seemingly freely composed, may be loosely interpreted as an ABACABA rondo (Bailey 243-244).

The first theme of the A section, comprising bars 1-19, uses only untransposed row forms: P0, R0, I0 and RI0. The second A theme, bars 20 to 32, explores the T6 rows at a more moderate tempo. In this theme, a rather free sort of canon is developed with a two-voice texture (Bailey 245).

The first B episode introduces two more themes, each using a variety of row forms and transpositions, but both emphasizing the T2, T3, T4, and T9 groups. The first B theme is at the initial tempo of the movement, the second, at bar 51, slightly slower. Both themes are loosely canonic in form. The sixty-third measure reintroduces the A material, still slowing in tempo. A brief transition uses R5 and R11 in bars 88-93 (Bailey 246-247).

Episode C, bars 93-121, presents I8, R1, RI8, P11, and R11 almost as a single line, with some parallel motion between the clarinet and saxophone and occasional dyads in the piano. This theme is in stark contrast to the rest of the movement because of its sparseness and slower rhythm. The harmonics played by the violin add to the dissimilarity. The same rows are then presented again, substituting RI6 for R11 and using a denser texture and an overall louder volume. At bar 121, a brief, accelerating transition with fortissimo supertriplets leads into the unhurried third A refrain (Bailey 247).

The final episode, bars 153-182, adds T7 and T8 rows to the material from the first episode. It also resembles the first episode due to its distinctive though inexact canon and due to the dynamic and performance markings. These elements relate the last episode strongly to the first, emphasizing the rondo form (Bailey 247).

The last refrain uses the opening row material again, this time at extremely loud dynamic levels-except for the final note, played by the saxophone at pianissimo.

The most striking characteristic of the quartet’s second movement is its freedom. Experts regard it as one of Webern’s most unrestrained and unconventional works (Leland Smith, “Composition and Precomposition in the Music of Webern,” p. 100). Its imprecise canonic elements, oddly placed tempo changes, and twisting of classical forms are unusual for Webern-though not entirely unheard of (Bailey 248-249).

Conclusions

Webern’s Quartet, op. 22, represents the composer’s talents at the height of his creative career. His organization is absolute, but, at the same time, his freedom is refreshingly bold. The simplicity-within-complexity of the Quartet rival, and, indeed, acknowledge and praise the works of the great “tonal” composers who preceded him.

Matrix for Quartet, op. 22

0 9 8 11 10 2 3 4 5 7 1 6
0 F# Eb D F E G# A Bb B C# G C
3 A F# F G# G B C C# D E Bb Eb
4 Bb G F# A G# C C# D Eb F B E
1 G E Eb F# F A Bb B C D G# C#
2 G# F E G F# Bb B C C# Eb A D
10 E C# C Eb D F# G G# A B F Bb
9 Eb C B D C# F F# G G# Bb E A
8 D B Bb C# C E F F# G A Eb G#
7 C# Bb A C B Eb E F F# G# D G
5 B G# G Bb A C# D Eb E F# C F
11 F D C# E Eb G G# A Bb C F# B
6 C A G# B Bb D Eb E F G C# F#

First movement, sonata form

Introduction

1-5 P7, I5 rows; staccato F# motive introduced

Exposition

6-15 Primary theme in saxophone; secondary theme mirror canon

[repeat exposition]

Development

16-18 First developmental unit; mirror canon continues throughout development

19-21 Second unit

21-24 Third unit; climax of pitch and density; all T6 row forms are used

24-27 Fourth unit

[grand pause]

Recapitulation

28-37 Return of original row forms from exposition; some alterations in line movement and rhythmic content

[repeat development and recapitulation]

Coda

37-41 Rows from introduction presented in retrograde

Second movement, rondo form

Refrain A

1-19 Primary theme; untransposed (T0) row forms

20-32 Secondary theme; T6 row forms; canon

Episode B1

33-50 Primary theme; episode uses a variety of row forms

51-62 Secondary theme

Refrain A

63-87 Primary A theme returns

88-93 Transition

Episode C

94-121 Textural, rhythmic, and timbral contrasts

121-131 Transition

Refrain A

132-152 Both A themes return

Episode B2

153-182 Expanded row vocabulary; canon

Refrain A

182-192 First A theme returns; dynamic contrast

Bibliography

Kathryn Bailey, The Twelve-note music of Anton Webern: Old forms in a new language (Cambridge, 1991).

Pierre Boulez, liner notes to recording Complete Works: Anton Webern, London Symphony Orchestra/Pierre Boulez, Sony Classical: Austria, 1991.

Hans Moldenhauer and Rosaleen Moldenhauer, Anton von Webern: A Chronicle of His Life and Work (New York, 1979).

Pixelrush, http://www.antonwebern.com (April 4, 2001)

Leland Smith, “Composition and Precomposition in the Music of Webern,” in Anton von Webern: Perspectives, compiled by Hans Moldenhauer (Seattle, 1966), pp. 86-101.

Similar Posts

  • What if I don’t love to practice?

    Musicians are supposed to wake up every day filled with a burning desire to practice for hours, right? If you don’t feel that way, you must not really have what it takes, right? And even if you don’t feel like practicing, you should be able to will yourself to do it anyway, right?

    It’s normal and okay not to love practicing, or for your love of practicing to vary. And it’s normal and okay to have less-than-perfect willpower.

    Some self-awareness about your practicing (or lack thereof) can help a lot. What keeps you from practicing, or from practicing at your best? Can you embrace it? Incorporate it? Work around it?

    Here’s an example: I’ve discovered that my mind wanders a lot while I practice. I might be doing some slow repetition of a tricky passage, but my brain is working on something else. So now I practice with a small notepad nearby. I find that if I can pause practicing for a moment and jot down a few thoughts, it quiets my mind.

    At first I resisted this idea, because it seemed like I was planning to multitask and be distracted. But for me, permission to get the idea out of my head and onto paper makes my practicing much more productive overall.

    Do you fail to practice, or fail to practice well, because:

    • …you get too bored working on one thing for such a long time? Can you rearrange your practicing so you change tasks every few minutes? Or spread your practicing out throughout the day?
    • …you hate missing out on what your friends are up to, IRL or online? Would it help if you gave yourself permission to spend a few minutes now and then, within established limits, to catch up on what’s happening? Or what if you practiced first thing in the morning, before your social circle gets interesting?
    • …you’re engrossed in an interesting book or show? What if you got to read or watch for ten minutes as soon as you finish your scale routine, or put in a solid half-hour on your étude? Or if you get your practicing done before dinner, you get to binge in the evening, guilt-free?
    • …you get hangry or tired? Could you schedule yourself some breaks to snack or nap or stretch? Or move your practicing to after a meal, instead of just before?

    Instead of beating yourself up about motivation or willpower, ask yourself how you can harness your natural inclinations and use them for productive practice.

  • Prepping the dumb guy

    In the practice room, I’m smart, organized, and focused. I’d like to say that this always leads to performances that are relaxed, poised, and confident. But sometimes the smart guy from the practice room fails to show up, and instead a much dumber version of me ends up on the stage: nervous, distracted, and scatterbrained.

    It’s my job (the smart guy) to make sure the dumb guy is prepped and ready to go. He’s not much good at thinking on his feet or making good musical decisions, but he’s trainable. So here’s the preparation regimen:

    • Practice in a thorough, methodical way. Not just the hard parts—the easy parts, too, which the dumb guy thinks he can handle but will be prone to boneheaded mistakes.
    • If recordings of the repertoire are available, listen to them over and over. Sometimes when the dumb guy’s reading or memory fail him, his ear can help him through.
    • Include a clear breathing plan in the practice routine. Mark the breaths in, early in the process, and practice them like they are notes. My particular dumb guy tends to breathe in weird places when he gets nervous, so I have to make sure good breaths are part of his muscle memory. (If you have a dumb guy/girl, they might have their own personal quirks that need a safety net.)
    • Make extensive markings. Anything that the dumb guy might forget gets penciled in, in clear and unambiguous terms (no just circling things—the dumb guy can’t always remember in the heat of the moment what the circles mean). If necessary, I even leave him a little reminder a few bars in advance (“big breath coming up,” “keep fingers relaxed,” etc.).
    • Make foolproof arrangements for page turns. Sometimes that means things like making a couple of copies of a page, with some bars completely blacked out so the dumb guy can’t accidentally play past the page turn, or fail to find his place after turning. Sometimes I even leave some instructions in the margin about how to do the page turn successfully.
    • After the recital or concert, I review the dumb guy’s performance to figure out what other holes he managed to fall into, and strategize about how to plug those holes for next time.

    If you’re like me, and your IQ sometimes drops a few points under the hot stage lights, make sure you’ve done your advance work so the dumb guy can’t cause too much havoc.

  • What I’ve learned from playing different musical styles

    One of my favorite things about being a performing musician is moving in and out of different styles. Recently I’ve performed as a classical, jazz, rock, and blues musician. I’ve been thinking a little about the skills that I associate with each, especially skills that have expanded my musicianship and carried over into playing other styles. It’s too many to name, but here are a few. Feel free to chime in in the comments section with your own insights.

    I have college degrees in (essentially) classical music performance. From playing solo repertoire, chamber music, and orchestral music, I’ve had to pursue a disciplined, precise approach to my instruments. I’ve had to try to blend seamlessly into a variety of instrumental textures. I’ve had to try to give every note delicacy and beauty, even when the music is trying to communicate something that isn’t delicate and beautiful. Other aspects of my classical music education involved informing my performance by studying centuries of tradition and history and methods of musical analysis.

    I’ve also done a lot of study of jazz. From big band section playing, I’ve had to try to make every note crisp and energized, even in the sweetest of ballads. I’ve had to try to blend into sections that take a wide variety of approaches to style—much wider than I’ve encountered in classical music. I’ve learned to use purposeful imprecision (in a way) by, say, playing a little behind the beat, or being a little more flexible with pitch. I’ve learned to really, really use my ears, transcribing notes and chords and rhythms but also nuances of style. (For jazz players, “transcribing” doesn’t always mean writing something down; it’s copying some or all of a performance from a recording.) And of course there’s improvisation, an art unto itself that many classically-trained musicians never delve into. From that I’ve gained a much deeper, more practical, more useable understanding of harmony. I’ve also gained confidence to play something that isn’t on a page in front of me, and a sense that I can make things work musically even when I’m not sure what will happen next.

    It’s not uncommon on a rock or blues gig to play songs that I don’t know and have never heard before, with no fakebook and nobody to tell me what the chord changes are. On some blues gigs, I’ve had to watch the bass player’s fingers to try to anticipate even which key the song is going to be in. That kind of unstructuredness can be terrifying to my classically-trained side, and even my jazz-playing side, which is used to improvising within fairly well-established frameworks. But it’s also freeing and thrilling to play for several hours with no music stand and no agreed-upon set list. Sometimes it means reaching way back into my memory to try to roughly reproduce a rock horn section riff I’ve heard once or twice on a recording, but often it means having to create my part from nothing. The protocols often aren’t as strict as they are in jazz, and I’ve had to learn, for example, that just because I played a fill after the blues singer’s first phrase doesn’t mean the guitarist is going to leave me any space after the next one. And, of course, formal education in rock or blues aren’t nearly as widespread or formalized (yet?) as jazz education or especially classical training, so these are lessons learned on stage.

    Every new gig is an adventure. See what you can learn in the concert hall to apply later in a smoky club, or vice versa.

  • Confessions of a mail-order shopper

    I’m not sure I can recall the last time I walked into a music store and bought something.

    I hear every so often that I should support local businesses and mom-and-pop shops, and I have to admit that this sounds vaguely like a responsible and virtuous thing to do. But here’s why I don’t—and can’t.

    1. It costs too much. Prices are inevitably higher in local stores. I understand that so-called “full-service” establishments have overhead, but so do I. If they can justify charging higher prices, it seems fair that I can justify shopping around.
    2. They don’t stock what I need. Other than a few scattered specialty shops, local music stores stock what they can sell in volume, and that’s inexpensive instruments and accessories for the beginning band market. I live in a small town, but even in the fairly large cities where I have lived, I have, more frequently than not, been unable to get what I like. A few months ago I made a two-and-a-half hour drive to go saxophone shopping with a student at a large music store in a large city. The store was large enough to have a saxophone specialist on staff. The store regularly stocks one brand of (arguably) professional-quality saxophone (and it’s not Selmer, Yamaha, Yanagisawa, or Keilwerth), and had exactly two major-brand instruments available, used. We also contacted a small saxophone specialty shop that was a little farther away, one that actually has “saxophone” in the store’s name. They had zero pro-line horns in stock.
    3. As far as I can tell, the “superior customer service” factor is largely a myth. I think most woodwind players have experienced the frustration of going into a music store and being “helped” by the heavy-metal guitarist behind the counter. And even in specialty shops, I’ve rarely found a salesperson who can answer serious questions with much more than regurgitated advertising copy or a personal opinion. And, while I don’t doubt that specialty retailers are passionate about what they do, it’s important to keep in mind that they are businesspeople and subject to motivations other than getting you the best possible product for the smallest possible price. Read More “Confessions of a mail-order shopper”
  • Wind controllers as “practice” woodwinds

    Can you use a wind controller, like the Akai EWI, the Yamaha WX, or the Roland Aerophone, as a convenient and/or quiet way to practice a “real” woodwind instrument, like the saxophone or the flute?

    No, not really.

    You can practice some very limited aspects of woodwind playing. For example, each of those wind controllers has fingering patterns that resemble (but are not identical to) the fingerings of standard woodwinds. If you are in the very early stages of playing a woodwind instrument and still trying to memorize fingerings, I suppose you could use a wind controller to help you with that specific task, to the extent that the fingerings do match.

    The Akai instruments have saxophone, flute, and oboe modes, plus the more flexible “EWI” mode that is quite saxophone-like, and even a couple of variations of a valved-brass-inspired mode. The Yamaha WX5 has several saxophone modes and a flute mode. The Roland instruments are set up to map fairly directly to saxophone fingerings, even going so far as to include some of the saxophone’s more problematic features like “palm” keys. However, with that exception, none even have all the keys needed to learn proper saxophone, flute, or oboe technique.

    (None of the instruments currently has a clarinet mode, presumably because the real-clarinet phenomenon of overblowing to odd-numbered partials raises some complications for an electronic instrument capable of many octaves of range. And none of the instruments has the physical keys to reasonably approximate bassoon technique.)

    Plus, in all cases, including the Rolands, none of them can fully imitate the “feel” of a standard woodwind. Beyond the very basic stage of learning fingering patterns, much of the fingering work that woodwind players practice has to do with nuances of the fingers’ interactions with the keys. Even switching from one flute to a slightly different model of flute can mean having to re-adapt to the keys’ precise locations, spring tensions, etc. Switching between a flute and a wind controller is a much larger leap.

    And, of course, no major wind controller currently provides a realistic approach to tone production. None has a reed that functions as such, and none has a flute-like embouchure hole. There are some superficial similarities like breath pressure being mapped to volume, or a bite-able mouthpiece that allows for something like saxophone-style jaw vibrato (or to the ill-advised reed instrument technique of bending pitch with jaw movement).

    So, can you practice on it? Not really.

    But the good news is that wind controllers (particularly, in my opinion, the Akai EWIs) have lots of potential as instruments in their own right. (If you aren’t familiar, look no farther than Michael Brecker’s playing for an eye-opener.)

    Rather than looking at wind controllers as a “practice” instrument or a low-budget stand-in, consider a wind controller to be an additional avenue for expression. Playing it well requires just as much hard work, but also brings worthwhile creative rewards.

  • Playing professional whole notes

    I have spent many hours of my life absorbed in difficult études and repertoire. Challenging music pushes the limits of my abilities.

    But when I actually get hired to play music, it’s almost never anything that complicated. Many of my workaday gigs are very easy—on paper.

    One part of my career is playing with a nearby symphony. The repertoire occasionally has a few moments in it that demand my fleetest technique. But, as a wind player, I spend much more of the concert counting rests and waiting to play another handful of whole notes.

    I recently played in a recording session for a local band’s new album. I played a total of one note. I played it a bunch of times, but it was just the one long note, over and over.

    A beginner could play one note. So why hire a professional?

    The notes—fast or slow, easy or hard—need to be beautiful, balanced, in tune, started precisely, ended precisely, shaped appropriately, and stylistically appropriate.

    I’ve never been hired to play études, and almost never to play classical solo repertoire, but studying those has helped me develop the control and skill to play the whole notes just right, and that’s what gets me hired.

One Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Comments that take a negative or confrontational tone are subject to email and name verification before being approved. In other words: no anonymous trolls allowed—take responsibility for your words.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.