Inconsistencies in Standardization Musical Values in
Orchestration An Analogy of the Visual Arts and Orchestration
Definition by Timbres
The previous brief historical survey of orchestration can now be correlated with more specific details of scoring. In Chap. 1, importance of the music, as such, was emphasized; in this chapter, importance of the instruments will be considered. Previously it was established that the string choir is the very foundation of the orchestra. This section, because of its more or less fixed timbres, is a homogeneous grouping, notwithstanding its wide range of possible effects and expressive powers. Varieties of contrast and expression lie in the methods of application — the ways in which the section is used melodically, harmonically, and rhythmically.
Standardization of this kind is impossible if applied to the other three sections of the orchestra: wood-wind, brass, and percussion. One has only to hear a single, identical note played on a flute and an oboe to recognize the lack of fixed timbres in the wood-wind choir. Similar timbre differences exist within the brass and percussion sections. Yet there are certain areas of timbre similarities; due to divisions in the sections, that will be discussed in detail at a later time. Suffice it to say now that each wind instrument has a definite, characteristic tonal color — a fact which establishes a unique paradox. Although a great variety of tonal colors and strengths is possible with judicious use of these instruments, a continued, unvaried playing of any single one of them, especially on a melodic line, can produce an unnecessary monotony. This is why the sensitive orchestrator plans his scores so as to give a variable interplay of timbres, both melodically and harmonically. In addition, the matters of range, tonal spread, and tessitura must be given serious consideration and study since all the wind instruments have strong and weak ranges, as well as peculiarities of timbre that affect their blending possibilities.
It has been said that an experienced orchestra conductor can judge the quality of a score by the distribution of parts in & forte tutti. Why should such a test be a criterion of quality? The answer lies in the manner of chord distribution. Which instruments play which chord tones and in what tessitura? Note well: The combination of timbre, tessitura, and dynamics are the three elements that require constant evaluation if a balanced sonority is to be achieved. The necessity for profiles of balance is present for every measure of orchestration regardless of styles, textures, or ranges.
Obviously, the volume in a. forte passage for a flute will not be the same as that of a horn or a trumpet, any more than a. forte stroke on the triangle will approximate the same dynamic as a crash with a pair of cymbals. It follows then that all dynamics are comparative. Individual experimentation along these lines would not only be enlightening, but helpful, in evaluating relative timbres, sonorities, and capacities. Numerous miscalculations of comparative tonal strengths, within a specific dynamic range, can be detected in many scores by Classic composers. Felix Weingartner's book On the Performance of Beethoven's Symphonies contains pertinent references to representative errors of balance and clarity and gives definite recommendations for their correction.
Problems of voice distribution become still more acute in dealing with the instruments of the brass choir. There is a marked difference in the tonal strength and timbre of a horn and a trumpet playing the same note with the same dynamic. This comparison could also include the trombone, with reservations. Because these tonal differences exist in varying degrees, detailed study and analysis will be devoted to these problems in connection with the full examination of these instruments as separate choirs.
From the comparative studies made thus far, there can be little doubt that the approach to music from the Classic period will be inconsistent with music from either the Romantic or Modern periods. In orchestrating a movement from a Mozart piano sonata, one would use an instrumentation which would be quite inappropriate for an orchestration of representative music by Liszt or Tchaikovsky. And the instrumentation would not be the sole point of difference. The complete approach, the manner and idiomatic use of the instruments, would likewise be on a totally different plane. Harp glissandos, blaring trumpets, shrieking horns, and explosions from the battery (percussion section), all have their rightful place in the over-all scheme of orchestral writing but cannot be condoned in music far removed in time from the natural niche allotted to these particular modern innovations.
Before proceeding with the actual detailed study of all the instruments, the following analogy is suggested as a means of obtaining a new and useful perspective: Orchestration has many points in common with the visual arts. There are the obvious elements of design, color, and movement. But there is another major common denominator which forms a more basic connection as a starting point for reasonable comparisons.
It will be generally agreed that in painting and photography the illusion of a foreground and background is ever present. This same illusionary characteristic can also be found in music. In the artistic representation of the visual dimensions, whether it be photographic or on canvas, the projection of this natural precept of comparative proximity has become a required element for normal comprehension. Everyone's daily existence depends upon the individual's ability to make this constant distinction between foreground and background. The ear must also make similar analysis with any combination of sounds in motion. Woe to the person who does not recognize the difference between the siren of the police patrol car and a boy's competing police whistle! Here is a specific example of timbre recognition.
The painter achieves a two-dimensional effect of foreground and background by means of color contrasts and composition. The orchestrator must accomplish the same illusion by means of contrasting timbres, along with the right balancing of these sonorities. Occasionally these two elements, foreground and background, merge with such subtle craftsmanship that only the trained eye and ear can detect the points of contact. When this joining process is skillfully carried out, the result is a smooth, naturally flowing line and texture. The connection between painting and music is further emphasized by noting the number of composers who have received direct inspiration from this sympathetic union. (Walton's Portsmouth Point and Rachmaninov's Isle of the Dead serve as good examples.)
If painting without an intelligible definition of foreground and background is comparatively meaningless, imagine an orchestral score without tonal definition. Such a score would degenerate into a hopelessly chaotic jumble of scrambled sounds. The orchestrator's task is to organize his score so that performance will reveal clarity of the leading melodic ideas, with secondary parts adjusted according to their relative importance. When this is done with sureness and subtlety, a natural feeling of a musical foreground and background will exist.
The trick here is to accomplish these things without any impression of artificiality. The experienced orchestrator knows that the leading melodic ideas must be assigned to instruments with sufficient carrying strength; he knows that the choice of such instruments depends upon the tessitura of the complete part; he knows that the harmonic scheme, serving as a background, must be properly spaced and assigned to instruments with contrasting timbres; and he also knows that a needless clash of melodic and harmonic lines kills the fluidity of the leading ideas. His experience has proved beyond a doubt that foreground elements cannot become obscured by background elements of secondary counterpoints or by harmonic and rhythmic patterns. He further understands the value of being able to fuse his foreground and background components with ease and surety.
All these assets are the means by which a serviceable working technique can be realized. Likewise, the student composer must make them a part of his daily creative life. If "orchestration is composition," then compositional thinking and idiomatic scoring become synonymous. Musical thinking of this order will facilitate and establish a subconscious habit of hearing all varieties and shades of sound through the inner ear. The creative process thus becomes stimulated and, with effort, can be directed toward matters of style, form, and texture.
As with most generalities, suggestions, and rules, exceptions often occur which result from highly specialized considerations based upon the imaginative urgings of the unusual. One has only to see a few of the many Monet canvases of the same cathedral painted at various hours of the day, and thereby reflecting a seemingly endless variety of light and shade, to appreciate the relationship of changing values in art. The arts, in any form, are not static. They must inevitably move through periods of evolution in order to survive. Their shape and substance are in the eyes — and the ears — of the beholder. Monet, and his French colleagues of the Impressionist movement, created a highly imaginative approach to painting by merging the foreground-background concept with its ensuing moods of hazy, veiled reminiscence. Composers followed in the path of the painters but, as always, the Gallic intuitive feeling for clarity of definition prevailed. Debussy and Ravel assumed the role of musical French Impressionists . . . and a new style of orchestration was born. Yet the combined scores of these innovators rarely abandon the musical conception of foreground and background. A notable exception in this case may be observed in the Introduction of Ravel's La Valse. Here the programmatic idea calls for a mood of confused sounds from which the "birth of the valse" emerges. The final measures of this work are intentionally replete with chaotic sounds, again in keeping with the depiction of the collapse of a golden age. Orchestral effects in this category prove their validity by establishing and maintaining both pictorial and emotional moods.
Thus, the composer achieves through sound what the painter does through pigments. In this connection, it should be observed that purely orchestral effects — in all shades of colorings — should be reserved for music of mood, be it opera, ballet, or program music. When such effects are incorporated in abstract music, the results are apt to sound artificial and inappropriate. This is an area in which the orchestrator must rely on the precepts of good taste. The dividing line is naturally influenced somewhat by the qualities of design and construction. Conversely, program music is rarely successful without imaginative scoring kept within reasonable limits. Realism, when overextended, goes beyond the tenets of good art in music.
As music comes into being by means of ordered sounds in motion, whether it be a simple homophonic piece or a more complicated contrapuntal texture, the orchestrator must be ever mindful to avoid scoring plans which might obscure the clarity of all the interdependent elements. This admonition is an important factor in the study of the visual-artmusic analogy: for music, like painting, is not necessarily confined to a single foreground idea but may have several semimajor themes sounding simultaneously. Most music, contrapuntally conceived, is in this category. As a fugue, with its sundry adaptations, is composed of a principal subject in conjunction with secondary counterpoints, it follows logically that orchestration of this form be scored with appropriate clarity and definition. Consider a performance of a fugue for piano, played without profile of the primary and secondary thematic parts. Such a performance would be a meaningless jumble of notes, unworthy of attention or consideration. Orchestration carried out with a similar negative disregard for musical values would become hopelessly chaotic. Thematic definition can be achieved only when tonal strengths and timbre contrasts are in balance with melodic tessituras and harmonic spacings which allow unhampered movement of each separate part.
Definition by timbres and its dependent area of clarity are problems resulting from the combining of several unequal melodic ideas — that is, a main theme in conjunction with a counter melody, rhythmic figuration, or ostinato. Passages in this category must include consideration of tonal strengths or weights in addition to timbres. There is also the unavoidable problem of range differentials in the extreme high and low compasses, especially with the woodwinds. However, the identifying timbre and tonal strength of each wind instrument, whether alone or in combination, provides an almost limitless scope for thematic materials which may vary in importance. Similarly, secondary accompanying parts of harmonic and rhythmic patterns can be adjusted so that they will not interfere with the clarity of the principal motives.
A specific example of this idea may be found in the Farandole from the L'Arlesienne Suite No. 2 by Bizet. Here, the two main themes of contrasting character are exposed at the beginning of the dance without distraction from the secondary parts. Then these two themes are deftly combined, adding rhythmic counterparts with perfect clarity. The bolder of the two themes is always placed in the brass while the skipping dance tune, used as a counterpoint, never leaves the upper woodwinds and strings. Although the scoring-on-paper of the latter groups may appear to be unduly strong because of the doubled parts, they will not overpower the brass instruments which are playing in their best tessituras. This represents a beginning toward the study and recognition of the differences in instrumental timbres and tonal strengths and their importance.
The scope of orchestrational possibilities appears to be limitless even after two hundred years of experimentation. The orchestral works of Haydn and Mozart differ greatly from those of Schumann and Brahms, while those of Liszt and Wagner are equally distant from those of Hindemith and Stravinsky. Note well: It is not just a matter of compositional differences; rather it isjin awareness of instrumental idiomatic capacities and their effect upon the composer's musical horizons. This thought may be realized in detail through a comparative analysis of Mozart's Symphony No. 35 (K. 385) and the Prokofiev Classical Symphony, Op. 25. In commenting on the latter score, the Russian composer and critic Boris Asafiev says, 'The composer's idea in writing this work was to catch the spirit of Mozart, and to put down that which, if he were living now, Mozart might put into his scores." Both symphonies achieve their respective ends with a similar minimum of means; both require the same Classical instrumentation and both have a polished sophistication. It is in the matters of harmony, instrumental brilliance, and virtuosity that one finds the greatest differences in the two works. Mozart was always himself, whereas critics have speculated that Prokofiev may have had "his tongue in his cheek" when writing this opus.