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What did the composer mean to say? And does it matter?
A composer's intentions (Krantz's "Trio')
When 1807 and Friends presented Allen Krantz's Trio for violin, cello and guitar in April, I felt the piece raised some nagging perennial questions about the relationship between music and extra-musical subjects. Krantz wrote Trio on commission from Lynn and Eric Henson, in memory of Lynn Henson's family, and his program notes say its genesis was a portrait of the family. But Krantz said he gave the work a non-descriptive title because he wanted it to take on "a life of its own" after its premiere performances.
On the other hand, the three movements bear titles— "Sisters," "Father's scherzo" and "Mother's Waltz"— that bind them to the family portrait theme.
So how should we listen to such a piece? Should we think of it as a depiction, like a poem about the same subject? Or should we listen to it in the same way we would approach a trio in which the movements were simply labeled "Andante," "Scherzo" and "Waltz"?
For many music lovers, this is a pointless question. Music is music, they'll say. Who cares what it's supposed to be "about"? And much of the time they're right: If a composer wants to claim the fast-slow-fast movements in a concerto represent a sea voyage, with a big storm at the end, so what? He's still given us three movements in the standard order, and we can listen to them just as we'd listen to all the other fast-slow-fast concertos in the repertoire.
Many other pieces, however, wouldn't make sense if we didn't know the subject matter. If you listened to Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition with no knowledge of its subject, it would sound like a series of musical episodes strung together at random. Ditto for Saint-Saens's Carnival of the Animals and more serious modern efforts like George Crumb's depiction of old battlefields in A Haunted Landscape.
Definitely angry
For me, the sticking point in Krantz's Trio was its second movement. The opening and closing movements are relatively mellow and display a gift for melody and interesting instrumental effects— the kind of thing you would expect in a piece written in memoriam. The "Father's scherzo," on the other hand, is massive and definitely angry. Does it reflect the father's personality? Or the children's feelings about their parent? Why would you include such a passage in a memorial piece?
I couldn't listen to Trio without wondering that— and my puzzlement influenced my reaction to the whole piece. I discussed my reaction with Allen Krantz after the performance, and I recently interviewed Lynn Henson as well.
The problem stems, I think, from the information Krantz included in the program notes. His notes for the 1807 performance told me just enough to raise questions but not enough to answer them.
Her harrowing ordeal
Lynn Henson says she commissioned the piece because she had lived through a harrowing ordeal. Her three closest relatives had all died within three years— one each year, with two dying under particularly tragic circumstances.
She turned to the arts for the same reasons artists often turn to their craft when they live through intensely emotional experiences. Since she couldn't create something herself, she commissioned someone else to do it for her. She told Allen Krantz he could do anything he wanted with her story. She stipulated that she wasn't looking for a "musical version of a headstone."
Program music works best, in my experience, when it deals with general subjects, without specific references, and lets the listeners supply their own details. There are many exceptions, but I think that's a good general rule.
A World War II message
When I heard Rossen Milanov conduct Shostakovich's Ninth Symphony at the Mann in 2006, the somber movements reminded me of the faces of the veterans I met in the years after World War II; and the tinny, sarcastic military march evoked the American GI's cynical attitude toward military life. Shostakovich would have had other images in mind, but he composed his piece as a response to the end of World War II, and I think he would have felt satisfied that I got his basic message.
In this case, I don't think you can present Trio without some mention of its overall theme. That second movement is so different from the outer movements that it demands an explanation for its presence. On the other hand, you don't need to go into all the details.
My advice to Krantz
I think it would be best if the program notes merely stated that the piece was commissioned in response to a family tragedy and reflects a range of emotions, including the tensions of family life, in keeping with the terms of a commission that granted the composer full freedom to work without any restrictions.
I would also drop the specific family references in the titles of the last two movements and mark them "scherzo" and "waltz." Then we could all apply our own memories and our own attitudes toward family life to the music.
Krantz's Trio presents an unusually sensitive example of a general problem. Many of the new pieces I hear deal with extra-musical subjects. My memories of recent premieres include works inspired by the Holocaust, Darwin's Theory of Evolution, and the deaths of relatives. No ultimate, universal laws govern the approach the composer should adapt.
Krantz has performed Trio four times, according to Lynne Henson, and his program notes keep evolving. He may or may not find my unsolicited advice helpful. But he's obviously aware of the problem and doing his best to find the right balance.
On the other hand, the three movements bear titles— "Sisters," "Father's scherzo" and "Mother's Waltz"— that bind them to the family portrait theme.
So how should we listen to such a piece? Should we think of it as a depiction, like a poem about the same subject? Or should we listen to it in the same way we would approach a trio in which the movements were simply labeled "Andante," "Scherzo" and "Waltz"?
For many music lovers, this is a pointless question. Music is music, they'll say. Who cares what it's supposed to be "about"? And much of the time they're right: If a composer wants to claim the fast-slow-fast movements in a concerto represent a sea voyage, with a big storm at the end, so what? He's still given us three movements in the standard order, and we can listen to them just as we'd listen to all the other fast-slow-fast concertos in the repertoire.
Many other pieces, however, wouldn't make sense if we didn't know the subject matter. If you listened to Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition with no knowledge of its subject, it would sound like a series of musical episodes strung together at random. Ditto for Saint-Saens's Carnival of the Animals and more serious modern efforts like George Crumb's depiction of old battlefields in A Haunted Landscape.
Definitely angry
For me, the sticking point in Krantz's Trio was its second movement. The opening and closing movements are relatively mellow and display a gift for melody and interesting instrumental effects— the kind of thing you would expect in a piece written in memoriam. The "Father's scherzo," on the other hand, is massive and definitely angry. Does it reflect the father's personality? Or the children's feelings about their parent? Why would you include such a passage in a memorial piece?
I couldn't listen to Trio without wondering that— and my puzzlement influenced my reaction to the whole piece. I discussed my reaction with Allen Krantz after the performance, and I recently interviewed Lynn Henson as well.
The problem stems, I think, from the information Krantz included in the program notes. His notes for the 1807 performance told me just enough to raise questions but not enough to answer them.
Her harrowing ordeal
Lynn Henson says she commissioned the piece because she had lived through a harrowing ordeal. Her three closest relatives had all died within three years— one each year, with two dying under particularly tragic circumstances.
She turned to the arts for the same reasons artists often turn to their craft when they live through intensely emotional experiences. Since she couldn't create something herself, she commissioned someone else to do it for her. She told Allen Krantz he could do anything he wanted with her story. She stipulated that she wasn't looking for a "musical version of a headstone."
Program music works best, in my experience, when it deals with general subjects, without specific references, and lets the listeners supply their own details. There are many exceptions, but I think that's a good general rule.
A World War II message
When I heard Rossen Milanov conduct Shostakovich's Ninth Symphony at the Mann in 2006, the somber movements reminded me of the faces of the veterans I met in the years after World War II; and the tinny, sarcastic military march evoked the American GI's cynical attitude toward military life. Shostakovich would have had other images in mind, but he composed his piece as a response to the end of World War II, and I think he would have felt satisfied that I got his basic message.
In this case, I don't think you can present Trio without some mention of its overall theme. That second movement is so different from the outer movements that it demands an explanation for its presence. On the other hand, you don't need to go into all the details.
My advice to Krantz
I think it would be best if the program notes merely stated that the piece was commissioned in response to a family tragedy and reflects a range of emotions, including the tensions of family life, in keeping with the terms of a commission that granted the composer full freedom to work without any restrictions.
I would also drop the specific family references in the titles of the last two movements and mark them "scherzo" and "waltz." Then we could all apply our own memories and our own attitudes toward family life to the music.
Krantz's Trio presents an unusually sensitive example of a general problem. Many of the new pieces I hear deal with extra-musical subjects. My memories of recent premieres include works inspired by the Holocaust, Darwin's Theory of Evolution, and the deaths of relatives. No ultimate, universal laws govern the approach the composer should adapt.
Krantz has performed Trio four times, according to Lynne Henson, and his program notes keep evolving. He may or may not find my unsolicited advice helpful. But he's obviously aware of the problem and doing his best to find the right balance.
What, When, Where
1807 & Friends: Krantz, Trio (Nancy Bean, violin; Lloyd Smith, cello; Allen Krantz, guitar). April 12, 2010 at the Academy of Vocal Arts, 1920 Spruce St. (215) 438-4027 or www.1807friends.org.
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