Professional Documents
Culture Documents
1 “Absolute Music” 1
Issues
in
the
Aesthetics
of
Music:
Musicological
Perspectives,
ed.
Stephen
Downes
(London
and
New
York:
Routledge,
2014),
pp.
42-‐61
Chapter
3:
Absolute
Music
(Thomas
Grey)
Any music is “absolute” –– in the usual understanding of the term –– if
it is presented to the listener as a sounding aesthetic object without
accompanying verbal text (in the form of vocal lyrics, program, or descriptive
title) and without serving any particular function besides the listening
experience itself. Normally this is understood to be instrumental music,
although vocalise or electronic music, for example, could also fit the
definition. While clear examples can be found in the music of the late
Renaissance or early Baroque in the form of instrumental canzonas,
ricercares, contrapuntal fantasias, and above all the Baroque fugue, the
apogee of “absolute music” as a practice and an ideology is usually located
between the era of Viennese classicism, in the later eighteenth century, and
the early Romantic era, when writers such as E. T. A. Hoffmann began to
Symphony).1
Charles Lamb in his “Chapter on Ears” (Essays of Elia, 1823) is a satirical
provocation on the part of a professed musical agnostic, but it is in many
ways just as instructive as the paeans to the transcendent powers of “pure
Above all, those insufferable concertos, and pieces of music, as
they are called, do plague and embitter my apprehension. ––
Words are something; but to be exposed to an endless battery
of mere sounds; to be long a-‐dying, to lie stretched upon a rack
of roses; to keep up languor by unintermitted effort; to pile
honey upon sugar, and sugar upon honey, to an interminable
tedious sweetness; to fill up sound with feeling, and strain
ideas to keep pace with it; to gaze on empty frames, and be
forced to make the pictures for yourself; to read a book, all
stops, and be obliged to supply the verbal matter; to invent
extempore tragedies to answer to the vague gestures of an
inexplicable rambling mime –– these are faint shadows of what
Lamb’s complaint on the importunities of “empty instrumental music” is
essentially an amplification of Bernard de Fontenelle’s famous quip from a
century before: Sonate, que me veux-tu? (“Sonata, what do you want of me?).3
Both respond to the sense that the relatively recent phenomenon of
attention and even understanding of the listener. For Lamb, a concerto or
other modern “piece of music” harasses the listener with a surfeit of
referents,
audible
syntax
without
semantics,
and
the
contours
of
dramatic
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1
“Absolute
Music”
3
mimesis without character or plot. The terms of his objections tell us much
about the technical conditions that had evolved in the era of tonal music,
since the seventeenth century, enabling the rise of what came to be called
absolute music. Even the anti-‐musical Lamb detects the role of affective,
rhetorical gesture and syntactical phrasing or punctuation (“a book, all
stops”) that allowed contemporary listeners to hear music as a wordless
“language of feelings.” Along with these internal, technical conditions of
soundscape of bourgeois life in the form of domestic music-‐making and
public concerts. Even apart from larger trends in late Enlightenment and
Romantic-‐idealist intellectual discourse, there is good reason why the need
for a theory of “absolute” instrumental music came to be felt by the early
nineteenth century. The following sections of this chapter will attempt to (1)
sketch the historical development of “absolute music” as both a concept and
“absolute music” in the era of tonal common practice; (3) distinguish
formalist) versions; and (4) consider the status of the concept in
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
4
The term “absolute music” can be traced, tellingly, to two nearly
Hanslick, each writing around the very middle of the nineteenth century.
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony he conducted in Dresden in April 1846.
Explicating the introductory gestures of the famous finale, Wagner writes:
With the beginning of this finale Beethoven’s music takes on a
master has prepared the entrance of language and the human
voice as something both anticipated and necessary by means of
lyrical theme.4
Wagner’s text would not have reached many readers, at least until it was
reprinted in his collected writings in the 1870s. All the same, it tells us a
great
deal
about
the
emerging
critical
discourse
of
what
would
eventually
be
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
5
canonized under his phrase, “absolute music.” First of all, he provides the
alternative, more standard locution for the idea in the early nineteenth
century, “pure instrumental music.” Second, he alludes to the Romantic
aesthetic ideology that had been influentially articulated by E. T. A.
“pure instrumental music” to “the realm of infinite and indistinct expression.”
Third, he rehearses his own critical argument, more emphatically and
influentially expressed in The Artwork of the Future some years later (1849),
modern aesthetic imperative for music to move beyond the realm of
synthesis of music with poetry or drama.5 While the initial circulation of this
1846 program note may have been very restricted, Wagner returned to the
term “absolute music” repeatedly throughout both The Artwork of the Future
and Opera and Drama (1852), texts that were widely read and debated
following their first publication. In both of those texts the term is subject to
Wagner’s polemic against the cultivation of the traditional arts in their
individual, isolated (“absolute”) condition, which is to be superseded by the
combined or “total artwork of the future” (Gesamtkunstwerk der Zukunft).
Musikalisch-Schönen
(On
the
Beautiful
in
Music
or,
in
Geoffrey
Payzant’s
1986
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
6
translation, On the Musically Beautiful) has traditionally been viewed as a
theory of absolute music. This view is certainly accurate, even though––
incidentally in the text. As with Wagner’s first use of the term, this
understand the general purpose of Hanslick’s treatise as well as clarifying
In the middle of his second chapter, devoted to the demonstration that
“the representation of feelings is not the content of music,” Hanslick
comments on the methodology of this demonstration: “We have deliberately
chosen instrumental music for our examples.” (In addition to a brief analysis
of the opening theme of Beethoven’s overture to the ballet The Creatures of
symphonies of Haydn and Mozart, and “an adagio of Beethoven, a scherzo of
Mendelssohn, or a piano piece by Schumann or Chopin” as representative
types.)6
This is only for the reason that whatever can be asserted of
instrumental music holds good for all music as such. If some
general definition of music be sought, something by which to
it
ought
never
be
said
that
music
can
do
it,
because
only
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
7
Hanslick is making a simple clinical, procedural point. Arguments about how
music “works” or about its effects are best made with reference to music
Hanslick’s later critical opposition to both the theories and the music of
Richard Wagner has, together with the resonance of the phrase die reine,
absolute Tonkunst when recalled out of context, probably contributed to the
notion that Hanslick’s treatise glorifies instrumental music at the expense of
vocal music or opera.8 In fact, in the very next sentence Hanslick denounces
invidious comparisons of the value of instrumental vs. vocal music as
“dilettantish” and irrelevant, following which he turns to examples of vocal
music (if only to prove the non-‐exclusive relationship of verbal semantics to
Just as in Wagner’s reference to “absolute music” in his 1846
commentary on Beethoven, Hanslick’s single use of the phrase “absolute
music” (as absolute Tonkunst) exemplifies its genealogy in the locution
throughout most of the nineteenth century. Both Wagner and Hanslick apply
the adjective “absolute” in the sense made current at the time through the
writings of Ludwig Feuerbach to denote an isolated, specialized branch of
knowledge, practice, or inquiry. Wagner would go on to emphasize the
critical
implications
of
this
isolation––a
“bad”
autonomy
charged
with
cutting
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
8
music off from a natural and healthy interaction with its sister arts––
unique application of the adjective in On the Musically Beautiful, on the other
hand, can easily be heard to resonate with the Hegelian metaphysics of the
“Absolute” (which he famously invoked in a passage later deleted from the
final pages of the treatise at the prompting of his colleague Robert
Zimmermann).9 To being with, however, “absolute music” denoted for both
Wagner and Hanslick simply the repertoire of “pure instrumental music” as it
had developed over the preceding two centuries of European musical
practice.
Wagner’s nor Hanslick’s original uses of the phrase “absolute music” brought
the term into regular critical use during their lifetimes, both of them exerted
considerable influence on debates over the concept and status of “purely
instrumental music” at a time when the emerging canon of instrumental
classics was confronted by modern, post-‐Beethovenian music with claims to
new levels of expressive or semantic determinacy. Wagner stated his
position in no uncertain terms. “Who will be to Beethoven what he was,
necessarily, to Mozart and Haydn?” he asks, rhetorically, in The Artwork of
the Future. “No one, not even the greatest [musical] genius, since the Genius
of absolute music no longer needs him.”10 That is to say, for Wagner the age
of “absolute music” has come and gone; the “greatest musical genius” will
henceforth
be
working
in
some
other
sphere
(specifically:
the
combined
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
9
mentioned, did not set as his goal in On the Musically Beautiful to argue for
the supremacy of a classical instrumental canon over opera, program music,
or the dawning Wagnerian “music drama,” it is entirely justified to view his
book as the first and faraway most influential statement on the idea of
“absolute music,” even if he did not grant the term itself a special status.
The essentials of this statement can be located in two arguments of
Hanslick’s book: the “negative” thesis of his second chapter, that the artistic
value or “content” of music (paradigmatically, instrumental music) is not to
be sought in the putative feelings or emotions generated by it; and the
“positive” thesis of his third chapter, that the artistic value or “content” of
music, however elusive, is intrinsic to the materials of the composition and
their treatment by the composer –– what Hanslick tried to sum up as tönend
bewegte Formen (“musically sounding forms in motion,” or in Payzant’s
formulating the second, or positive thesis of musical beauty, in part because
he was hobbled by an obligation to work with categories of “form” and
categories of musical “beauty,” “value,” and “content” as all more or less
synonymous, and insisting on their immanence to “musically sounding forms
of “absolute music.”
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
10
A succinct definition of the idea can also be found near the beginning
of his third chapter (“The Musically Beautiful”), where answers the question
“What kind of beauty is the beauty of a musical composition?” as follows:
understand a beauty that is self-‐contained and in no need of
content from outside itself, that consists simply and solely of
Along with “purely musical,” the phrase “specifically musical” was another
standard locution for the idea of absolute music in Hanslick’s and Wagner’s
time, one whose currency can be directly linked to the impact of On the
Musically Beautiful. It is worth recalling again, as Sanna Pederson has shown,
that only Richard Wagner used the term “absolute music” with any regularity
before the end of the nineteenth century, and only in his “Zurich” writings of
1849-‐51 where it is the object of a polemical critique.13 Despite the
music,” the Hegelian notion of the “Absolute” routinely invoked in current
scholarly discussion of “absolute music” was not necessarily central to
discussions
of
the
idea
in
the
nineteenth
century.
Hanslick’s
“specifically
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1
“Absolute
Music”
11
musical” and Wagner’s “absolute music” around 1850 simply denoted “music
alone” (to invoke the title of one of Peter Kivy’s many essays on music
aesthetics), while the claims of such music to transcendent metaphysical
beliefs.14
Questions of terminology aside, it has long been assumed that a
between the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries in response to
the rapid rise of instrumental genres such as the sonata, string quartet, and
symphony during this period, above all in the canon of the “Viennese classical
school” of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Mark Evan Bonds has influentially
proposed an alternative view: that a new propensity to “idealist” structures
necessary matrix for a new valuation of instrumental music in the era of
Beethoven and E. T. A. Hoffmann.15 The issue can easily devolve into a kind
of chicken-‐or-‐egg problem if we attempt to isolate musical practice from
intellectual-‐cultural context, and it probably makes most sense to view the
two in a productive dialectical or symbiotic relation. Clearly much had
changed between the time of Fontelle’s querulous challenge, Sonate, que me
veux-tu? and the effusions of Tieck, Wackenroder, or Hoffmann over the
intimations of utopian and infinite other worlds vouchsafed by the sonatas
and symphonies of their day. The concept of absolute instrumental music
gained
further
critical
traction,
soon
after
Wagner
and
Hanslick
named
it
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1
“Absolute
Music”
12
around 1850, with the extensive debates over program music, “music
drama,” and the “New German School” of musical progressives –– debates
generated in large part by the polemics of Wagner’s “Zurich” writings of
1849-‐51.
suggests, it was not just the growing repertoire of instrumental music since
the late eighteenth century that brought the category into focus, but also the
aesthetic challenges issued to that “classical” repertoire in the nineteenth
absolute music” in the finale the Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony (in the words
Scarlatti’s Essercizi all seemed to know their place and did not challenge the
nominal hegemony of opera or sacred vocal music. The revolutionary
example of Beethoven’s major instrumental works, most pointedly the Ninth
Symphony, seemed to question the limits of “pure instrumental music” and to
encourage subsequent generations of composers, listeners, and critics to do
the same. Absolute music thus became an important concept precisely when
it became a contested one. Now, as then, the purposes of the category can be
One heuristic exercise would be to try mounting an argument in
This second proposition is, of course, the normative one. In this view,
most classical instrumental genres such as the fugue, the string quartet, the
sonata, and the symphony are “absolute” music. Granting some basic
familiarity with Western tonal practice, individual examples of any of these
genres can be heard and understood largely without reference to external
factors. This does not preclude the fact that knowing other fugues, quartets,
sonatas, and symphonies will enhance one’s understanding of any given
verbal data. Under this normative view texted vocal music, from Gregorian
chant and Renaissance sacred polyphony to Italian madrigals, opera of any
era, Lieder or other genres of art song, and all types of popular song do not
qualify as absolute music, for several reasons. In most cases the melodic
material has been conceived to match at least some elements of the textual
meter, rhythm, rhyme and so forth, so that it cannot be fairly evaluated
without
some
reference
to
these.
In
most
cases,
too,
the
musical
setting
is
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
14
understood to express, highlight, or otherwise enhance the meaning of the
text, usually in some affective dimension, though also as rhetorical utterance,
or simply as resonating in some (admittedly unspecific) way with the
semantic dimension of the text. Even if the text of a vocal composition is in a
language not understood by a given listener––for instance, a Latin motet, an
Italian aria, a Russian opera chorus, a Hungarian or Swedish art song, or a
rock song with lyrics rendered unintelligible through raucous delivery and
amplification––the listener will still likely be aware of the impact of
Programs or, more commonly, simple descriptive titles also invite an
imaginative, referential dimension into the reception of a musical work that
The metaphysics of music articulated by Arthur Schopenhauer in The
World as Will and Representation (vol. 1, 1818; vol. 2, 1844) can be cited in
defense of the first of our three propositions. For Schopenhauer, music
(meaning for him European art music from the early eighteenth to the early
nineteenth centuries, essentially) differs from the other arts in being
conceivable as a “direct” reflection of the all-‐encompassing principle of the
manifestations in the natural world or the universe of human affairs. The
“absoluteness”
of
music,
in
this
reading,
is
not
a
matter
of
music’s
essentially
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
15
formal (decorative or patterned) attributes, as it would be in Kantian
aesthetics or for Hanslick, but simply in its lack of reference to the
phenomenal world. In this view any titles, programs, or vocal texts may
serve an illustrative function, but our perception of the music “itself” is not
fundamentally altered by them. “This is why one may set a poem as a song,
or a visual representation as a pantomime, or set both to music in an opera.
Such individual pictures of human life, set to the general language of music,
never correspond or connect to it with complete necessity; rather, they stand
in the same relation to it as an arbitrary example does to a general
concept.”16 The position makes sense for someone like Schopenhauer who
had grown up in an era when imitation theory and the doctrine of affections
were still the norm. One or another setting of one or another Metastasio
simile aria differs only incidentally, not essentially, from the rest, never
preeminence of the immediate acoustic experience of any musical work,
determine crucial elements of the sounding object in a performance of
Musorgsky’s Boris Godunov or a song by Rodgers and Hart or a mixed-‐media
aleatoric composition of John Cage. But in this strict view, those
contingencies will not fundamentally alter the experience of these as music,
rather
than
as
drama,
lyrics,
or
performance
concept.
Our
attitude
toward
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1
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Music”
16
the music may, of course, be inflected by those other things; but the music is
written in February 1857, is often viewed as a document of Wagner’s
reception of Schopenhauer’s aesthetic ideas, which he had encountered over
the preceding few years. There is some justification for this; yet in trying to
background of his own heated polemics denouncing all and sundry
traditional musical genres in the “Zurich” writings, Wagner backs himself
“No music is absolute.” He begins by rehearsing Romantic metaphysical
claims of music’s “transfiguring power,” for example: “music will never, in
any union into which it may enter, cease to be the highest, most redeeming
art.” And further: “It is the nature of music to realize in and through itself,
unmistakably and immediately, certain truths that the other arts can only
hint at or suggest.”17 But since Wagner himself had argued earlier that all
“total artwork,” he is forced to perform an elaborate rhetorical dance around
Nothing is less absolute than music, as regards its presence in our
lives, and the champions of an absolute music are clearly a muddle-‐
headed bunch. To confound them it would suffice to have them name,
if they could, any music independent of those forms derived from
corporeal motion or from poetic verse (according to the causal
circumstances.18
Wagner is referring to his “genealogy” of classical instrumental forms in the
traditions of binary dance forms of the earlier eighteenth century and, more
broadly, the relation of classical phrase structure to symmetries of dance or
rhyming metrical verse. In this view, there is no such thing as a “purely”
abstract music, since all empirical musical practices (as opposed to
speculations about divine or celestial music) are conditioned by aspects of
the human body, voice, and fundamental cultural practices. Thus, if
Romantic composers like Berlioz or Liszt choose to push the envelop of
musical form by inflecting its primitive dance-‐based outlines with allusion to
mythic or literary narrative, this need not constitute an unpardonable
transgression. No music is truly “absolute,” since all music is founded, at
some level, on shapes and forms of human activity. The foundational
activities of song, dance, and religious ritual, he argues, are merely giving
way to more differentiated models of myth, epic, and drama. As the musical
means enabled by those first categories become more differentiated or
sophisticated, with time, this expansion of the human “models” for musical
practice
is
a
natural
move
in
the
cultural
evolution
of
the
art
form.
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
18
All three of these propositional formulas could be argued at length
and on the basis of examples from nearly any historical period or musical
gravitate toward the first of them (“all music is absolute”), while
contemporary “post-‐modern” cultural theory tends to promote the third one
(“no music is absolute”), as we will see further in the concluding section of
this chapter. But since the second proposition remains the normative view in
musical scholarship and criticism, it could be helpful to consider the kinds of
and other music not?) against a small range of individual cases.
construed, is often contrasted with music intended to serve a function, social
or institutional in nature. To begin with, we would have to exempt the
“function” of aesthetic contemplation, since that is the function of any form of
art, by definition. (Then, dividing line between aesthetic contemplation and
edifying or “quality” entertainment is of course porous, and in many contexts
boundary for absolute music is problematic. The ostensible function of much
toccatas, trio sonatas, and so forth) is scarcely to be distinguished from the
aesthetic
contemplation
of
music
in
the
salons
of
aristocratic
or
bourgeois
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
19
amateurs or in the early concert hall. Speaking of an extensive four-‐part
maintains that it “is no ‘absolute music’ in our modern sense of the term”
because of its nominal function of accompanying the communion during the
mass service––and in spite of his own assessment of the piece as an
sonata for three violins and bass from the posthumously published 1615
Canzoni e sonate, on the other hand, Taruskin points out: “what would
remain for centuries the elite genre of ‘absolute’ secular instrumental music
[i.e., the sonata] was born in church.”20 For Taruskin, the Buus ricercare
tends, in its effect, towards a kind of sonic wallpaper appropriate to its
engages its listeners more forthrightly through an element of rhetorical flair
As musical objects, however, both pieces have an equal claim to aesthetic
autonomy. It is by no mean clear that functional utility has dictated the
differences between them, or that it constitutes a limiting contingency in one
Reinhard Strohm’s objection to the idea that “function or relevance for
determinations regarding absolute music.21 Usually at issue, in either case, is
a
question
of
aesthetic
ambition
or
demands:
whether
or
not
the
music
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
20
piano etude may be wholly functional, like those of Charles-‐Louis Hanon, for
instance. But most etudes, while still functional, may also be heard as
musical works, whether of limited or more substantial aesthetic interest, as
testified by Robert Schumann’s numerous reviews of etudes by his
contemporaries, not to mention his own. The same applies to most other
repertoires of “functional” music, such as dance music or music for religious
ceremony. Certainly much of it may exhibit little or no “work” quality, and
may not even be preserved in written or other stable form; but the potential
functionality of a Bach cantata or a set of waltzes by Johann Strauss Jr.
neither precludes their status as works nor their ability to be heard, in some
part, as absolute music. An instrumental sinfonia to a Bach cantata borrowed
from a concerto, or vice-‐versa, is surely an example of absolute music; a
accompaniment is probably not. Compositional style and substance are the
absolute music in the early Romantic view leading to Hanslick, citing the neo-‐
Kantian Christian Friedrich Michaelis, similar factors are at issue.22 Granted,
autonomy: an organically constituted artwork will “contain its entire purpose
and
raison
d’être
within
itself.”23
But
this
is
not
so
much
determined
by
the
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1
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Music”
21
presence or absence of social, religious, or pedagogical function as it is by the
degree of interest that attaches to the internal “organization” of the music
(still in Michaelis’s terms). The relation of dance forms to concert genres
process, or spectrum, very clearly. French court dances, polonaises and
mazurkas, and indeed, waltzes all gained aesthetic interest as they lost
perfectly coherent as an autonomous musical object, just not very interesting
of aesthetic interest. Function may weigh against that, but need not
The role of critical subjectivity in setting the bar of aesthetic interest
“Posthorn” Serenade (K. 320) on a Viennese concert program in 1881:
–ideally in the park of some old castle––and at the right time,
merely ripples past us softly and gently, without making any
deeper impression.24
formalist, Hanslick here dismisses even one of Mozart’s more mature and,
indeed, more “substantial” serenades as too beholden to its original function
precisely the boundaries that the concept of absolute music was intended to
police as it started to become an accepted critical tool. This program,
conducted by Hans Richter, consisted of the premiere of Brahms’s Third
Symphony, the Viennese premiere of Liszt’s symphonic poem Mazeppa, and
the Brahms symphony confirms how much the viewpoint of On the Musically
Beautiful as well as Hanslick’s attitudes as a music critic (the two are by no
means identical) continue to define what is still understood today as absolute
music. Appealing to the topos of ineffability or music’s transcendence of
language, he laments that “the critic’s eloquence diminishes in proportion to
that
of
the
composer,”
and
that
only
extensive
score
examples
or,
better
still,
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
23
repeated listening can truly reveal the aesthetic value of the work.25 He
into a series of images, balladic motifs, or novelistic episodes,” since that runs
counter to his “belief in the purely musical significance of an instrumental
composition.” Still, he readily situates Brahms’s new Third Symphony with
respect to the affective and topical associations of the Beethoven canon as
well as of Brahms’s first two symphonies (starting from Richter’s sobriquet
for the Third as Brahms’s Eroica). Brief verbal accounts the thematic
(“more concentrated in form, more transparent in detail, more plasticity of
than the first two symphonies). Yet the music emerges as paradigmatically
absolute precisely in defying adequate verbalization. It is not just the work’s
structural, textural, or rhythmic complexity, but also its situatedness within a
network or discourse of “symphonic” values that contributes to its quality as
The Liszt symphonic poem and the Volkmann orchestral song on the
same program both belong outside the pale of absolute music, clearly, but
that does not principally determine Hanslick’s critical response to them.
Comparing the general tone of “reflective, dignified, warm feeling” in the
Volkmann with that of Schumann’s Paradies und die Peri he groups them,
works [Tondichtungen] that breath freely the atmosphere of musical beauty,”
in spite of the “differences in content and form, as well as artistic value.”26
The negation of those ideals in Mazeppa is not strictly blamed on the choice
and role of the poetic program, although Hanslick is predictably dismissive of
both. Rather, as with most of Liszt’s orchestral works, he objects to what he
materials (“the lack of formative musical power applied to great ideas that
grow and move from inside outwards is masked in all of them by showy
Hanslick himself points out the genealogy of this particular symphonic poem
in a series of piano etudes, acquiring its official association with the poetic
protagonist of Hugo and Byron only midway through the series. (“It would
not be unfair to call it a tenderly reared and groomed piano etude,” he
concludes, alluding perhaps to Mazeppa’s horse, who in Hanslick’s view is the
real protagonist of the story.)28 The genesis of Mazeppa as symphonic poem
illustrates a broad truism, even if Hanslick does not dwell on the implications
any more than Romantic symphonies are “purely” absolute, if the first means
means eschewing any referential dimension that might be construed as
extra-‐musical. Symphonic poems no less than symphonies are often located
“between” program and absolute music, taken as heuristic ideal types.29
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1
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Music”
25
The German writer August Halm, whose critical advocacy of Bruckner’s
symphonies is frequently referenced in discussions of the aesthetics of
absolute music, is best remembered for his 1913 book Von zwei Kulturen der
Musik (“On Two Cultures of Music”) portraying Bach’s fugues and
Beethoven’s sonatas as two paradigms of German instrumental, or absolute,
musical tradition that also established a dialectic for later developments. The
phrase, and to a certain extent the repertoires, might be adapted to organize
a range of dichotomies that emerge repeatedly in talk about absolute music.
The terms in which these dichotomies might be formulated do not
necessarily map onto each other with complete consistency; and, as we’ve
seen in the preceding section, determinations regarding the status of
absolute music tend more readily toward a wide spectrum of possibilities
am calling “two cultures” or conceptual attitudes of the absolute music idea
are aligned in parallel columns in Table 1, for ease of comparison.
Table
1.
Recurrent
conceptual
dichotomies
in
the
discourse
of
“Absolute
Music”
Classical
Romantic
Empirical
Metaphysical
Denotative
Connotative
Formalist-‐analytical-‐positivist
Spiritual-‐metaphorical-‐hermeneutic
“It’s
just
music”
“It’s
not
just
music”
absolute
(Feuerbachian)
Absolute
(Hegelian)
Hanslickian
Schopenhauerian
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
26
by thinking of examples from each of August Halm’s original “two cultures” of
German instrumental music –– say, the fugues in C major or C minor from
Book 1 of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier, on one hand, and Beethoven’s
Sonata in C minor, op. 111, on the other hand. Despite differences of mode,
affect, and possibly tempo between the Bach fugues, both invite
understood by the term “fugue.” The two movements of Beethoven’s op. 111
likewise exhibit contrasts of mode, character, and tempo –– indeed, more
role, commentaries on this work almost invariably press beyond clinical
description of the notated materials to invoke some imposing expressive,
fugues and the Beethoven sonata all engage with terms from either of our
two “cultures” of absolute music; but the fugues align more readily with the
values in the first column of Table 1, while the sonata aligns more readily
Wilhelm Seidl has described an aspect of these dichotomies in terms
the question of absolute music, vs. a Romantic orientation in the tradition of
such
poet-‐critics
as
Wackenroder,
Tieck,
and
Hoffmann.30
Hanslick’s
On
the
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
27
Musically Beautiful speaks for the first group, while Arthur Seidl’s attempt to
supplement that with a treatise on the “musically sublime” (Vom Musikalisch-
Erhabenen, 1887) represents a continuation of the Romantic tradition in the
wake of Wagner, Schopenhauer, and the New German School –– the tradition
that sought to elevate the significance of music above mere “sounding forms”
but without circumscribing it in overly concrete verbal or representational
terms.
The “classical” or “empirical” conception of absolute music is the
simple, essentialist one I have also indicated as “denotative” in Table 1––that
is, a usage that denotes merely the observable, audible phenomena of the
(“classical” or neo-‐classical) aesthetic thought of the eighteenth century did
remain largely beholden to theories of imitation, even extended to music,
there already existed some theoretical conception of absolute music in this
simple empirical sense, appropriate to the large emergent repertoire of tonal
instrumental forms. As John Neubauer has shown, French thinkers like
Charles Henri Blainville (L’Esprit de l’art musical, 1754), Boyé (L’Expression
musicale mise au rang des chimères, 1779), and Guy de Chabanon (De le
musique considérée en elle-même et dans ses rapports avec la parole [etc.],
1779-‐85) clearly articulated an appreciation of music as an autonomous,
The principal object of music is to please us physically, without
troubling the mind to search for useless comparisons in it. One
must absolutely regard music as a pleasure of the senses and
not of the mind. As soon as we try to attribute the cause of its
impressions on us to a moral principle we loose ourselves in a
however, writers like Boyé and Chabanon do not allow for the cognitive
The position of music in Kant’s Critique of Judgement, the essential
aesthetic treatise of the late Enlightenment, remains a matter of debate.
Kant’s personal attitude probably resembled that of the French “sensualists,”
but the broader framework of the Critique allowed for the appreciation of art
acknowledged the possibility of art that elicits a “free harmonious play” of
artworks and our “disinterested” pleasure in them, has always been
particularly suggestive in relation to the dynamic flux and implicitly
teleological character of tonal musical structures. At the same time, the very
aesthetic of beauty aroused Kant’s suspicions as to its ultimate value, indeed
its very status a “beautiful” rather than merely “agreeable” art (as it would be
Kant regarded music consistently within the terms of our “first culture” of
ultimately condemning its lack of access to the terms of the second, Romantic
culture: its inability to communicate “spiritual” content by means of sign or
metaphor.
Between Kant and Hanslick’s On the Musically Beautiful, at any rate,
the conceptual foundations of a formalist aesthetic of absolute music begin to
crystallize, an aesthetics that could underwrite the modernist practices of
academic musical analysis, even if such practices would have been
unintelligible to an Enlightenment philosopher such as Kant and alien, at
best, to Hanslick, as a humanistic critic and cultural historian at heart. While
modern-‐day scholars have been at pains to point out the Romantic,
Schenker,34 the essential avatar of modern formalist analysis, he and his
widespread legacy remain firmly aligned with the first column of our “two
cultures.” The intellectual prestige of formalist musical analysis has usually
depended on the aura of the other, “Romantic” culture without genuinely
The essential opposition between these two cultural attitudes is most
immediately expressed in the two senses of “absolute” circulating in German
philosophical discourse in the early nineteenth century, both of which
continue to cling to modern usage and to generate confusion within that
adopted by Wagner in the Zurich writings, merely denotes the autonomy of a
given cultural practice or branch of knowledge. In this, Wagner’s original
sense of the phrase, “absolute music” is just music, with no ambition to
participate in other discursive realms. This we could call absolute music
with a lower-‐case “a” –– music in isolation (or “dissolved”) from verbal,
starting with the German Romantic generation, the very purity of such
emotional specificity, was believed to open up a channel of communication
(however vaguely defined) of religious pedigree, redolent of the noumenal
Platonic “ideas” also adopted by Schopenhauer’s aesthetics. In this other,
abstract play of sounding forms; it gestures towards some higher, supra-‐
linguistic, and indeed supra-‐sensible reality without resorting to any prosaic,
unequivocal sort of code. Whether it does so through the stark, austere
forms of Bach’s Art of the Fugue or the more various, emotionally charged
rhetoric
of
a
Brahms
or
Bruckner
symphonic
adagio,
the
music
is
understood
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
31
to mean more than a description of its notes on the page; it is more than “just
music.”
Hanslick himself, who as we know flirted with the idea of the Hegelian
“Absolute” before censoring it from later editions of his treatise, retained
some commitment to both of these “cultures.” The figures of the sounding
means of visualizing music’s abstract, formal beauty were much derided by
Romantically inclined critics in his own day as demeaning, relegating music
to the status of acoustic wallpaper. (Computer screen-‐saver images would be
Kant was generally inclined to accept such consequences, for, although he
allowed that music might engage “the understanding and the imagination” at
some level, he assumed that it was essentially void of cognitive value. It
offered nothing to “think about” in any substantial way. Hanslick was at
pains to refute this implication, as is most evident when he attempts to
qualify his figures of abstract, formal pattern or design, the arabesque and
kaleidoscope. “Let us think of this lively arabesque as the dynamic emanation
of an artistic spirit”; the musical kaleidoscope “presents itself as the direct
emanation of an artistically creative spirit.” The final result of these
qualifications is the famous dictum: “Composing is a work of mind upon
material compatible with mind” (“Das Componieren ist ein Arbeit des Geistes
(Geist
in
German)
in
these
passages
indicate
Hanslick’s
desire
to
bridge
the
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
32
“two cultures” of absolute music, after initially grounding his arguments in
the classical-‐empirical version. In Hanslick’s view, the aesthetic character of
a musical theme and attention to its travels in the course of a composition,
whether a Baroque trio sonata movement or the Franck D minor Symphony,
do give a listener something to “think about.” Adherents of the second,
music transports the mind to some purer, higher plane –– vouchsafing
intimations of the “infinite” or Absolute. They would also assume (and
Hanslick would not deny) that some works achieve this more effectively than
others. For this school of thought, some music is in fact just music, but for
that very reason, not upper-‐case “Absolute.” Moving from the sounding
arabesque of the trio sonata toward the “spiritual” heights and depths of the
Romantic symphony is a historical process that requires the collaboration of
composers and listeners. Composers agree to provide more to “think about”
In retrospect we can say that the “idea of absolute music” evolved
gradually along with the development of a repertoire of tonal instrumental
music in Europe, mainly from the early eighteenth century onwards. A “first
culture” of absolute music was firmly in place by the turn of the nineteenth
century –– otherwise who would have been attending concerts or buying
printed
scores
of
sonatas,
quartets,
and
the
like?
More
suddenly,
around
this
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
33
time, a “second culture” of absolute music emerged in response to the
crucially enabled by epistemic shifts in contemporary culture: the rise of
idealist thinking in philosophy and the related metaphysical turn in the
contribute to the matrix that engenders a robust, visible discourse of
“absolute music” in the first place by the middle of the nineteenth century,
introducing the term still in use. The less emphatic, and potentially negative
or at least self-‐effacing claims of the first culture are reflected in its
began to enter the critical vocabulary later on. Both models continue to be
available, depending on the sensibility of the user/listener and the character
If that roughly summarizes the genesis of the concept, according to
the bifurcated model I have proposed, we might conclude this overview of
absolute music as aesthetic issue by turning to a current perspective. Is
to a more-‐or-‐less fixed historical repertoire? Should it be cited by modern
scholars and critics as a historical phenomenon rather than indulged as an
German music –– still in large part the model for the concert (or museum)
culture of classical music today. But his study of the idea trails off with
reflections on the “musicality” of French symbolism (Mallarmé) and the late-‐
the collapse of a Romantic world-‐view after World War I the prestige of
upper-‐case Absolute music also waned, even if the persistence of the
Classical-‐Romantic musical canon still invites it as an appropriate aesthetic
For some time now musicologists, responding to the promptings of
postmodern critical thinking of one kind or another, have been vigorously
aesthetic mindset,” even for our continued contemplation of the Classical-‐
Romantic canon. The question of the historical limits of the concept, then,
can be put both to the conditions of new musical production and reception
(in whatever genres or cultural spheres) and study of the Western art-‐music
The first line of interrogation here would raise the question as to
whether any music besides the Western art-‐music canon might also be
considered absolute music –– for example, styles of improvisatory modern
(“free”) jazz in the tradition of Ornette Coleman and John Coltrane, the
electric
guitar
virtuosity
of
Eric
Clapton
or
Jimmy
Hendrix,
some
approaches
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
35
any other practice that primarily invites contemplation of a “pure” musical
sound-‐object. The answer should probably be a qualified “yes,” though the
topic deserves separate study taking into account the specific cultural
The second line of interrogation would direct us to the work of
musicologists such as Susan McClary or Lawrence Kramer and its influence
on musical scholarship over the last two decades. The large-‐scale reaction
against modernist formalism in the arts –– and more particularly in academic
criticism of the arts as typified by mid-‐century “New Criticism” that limited
philological scholarship devoted to the codification of authentic musical texts
or formalistic analysis of canonic scores appeared to be predicated on a
doctrine of absolute music reaching back, reasonably enough, to the late
nineteenth century origins of the discipline. Rebellion against the doctrine
and the modes of scholarship predicated on it took various forms, sharing the
aim of revealing the cultural contingencies of many different “classical”
works. Gender roles and stereotypes, constructions of sexuality and desire,
master narratives of self and other, politics of national identity,
psychoanalytic programs, figurations of the body, and much else were
revealed
as
active
subtexts
of
musical
works
long
suppressed
by
the
ideology
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
36
of pure, non-‐referential music –– subtexts of a canon whose very superiority
resided in its supposed autonomy from the rest of human affairs.
Much of the meaning that was teased out of the canon in the course of
this postmodern critical turn can in fact be identified with the Romantic turn
from “absolute” to “Absolute” music.37 When Susan McClary, for instance,
reads in the first movement of Brahms’s Third Symphony the narrative of a
subject providing a psychological catalyst analogous to the famous C-‐sharp of
Beethoven’s Eroica), negotiating the seductive wiles of melodic stasis and
otherness while struggling to define himself in contrast to an overweening
for what made this symphony “meaningful” to Eduard Hanslick, in
comparison to the merely pleasant diversion of the “Posthorn” Serenade.
Granted, Hanslick resisted explaining the symphony in terms of “ballads or
novels,” and his resulting critical impasse illustrates the initial, properly
Romantic conception of music as “Absolute” in the sense of conveying
meaning that is detailed, densely textured, but inscrutable.38 (Hanslick also
younger colleague of Hanslick, cited by McClary, identifies the second theme
power, he is betraying the code of “Absolute” ineffability, but at the same
time responding to the challenge of that code. The Romantic “Absolute”
continually
dares
the
listener
to
interpret
music’s
secret
language,
while
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
37
threatening that such an act may shatter the beautiful illusions he beholds in
Upper-‐case Absolute music, born as it were under the sign of
Beethoven’s symphonies and E. T. A. Hoffmann’s criticism, has thus perhaps
music.” Attempts to uncover layers of semantic, social, political, or gendered
reading of subversive behavior in the concertante continuo part of Bach’s
massive harpsichord cadenza), considered against the norms of the Baroque
concerto. When Leo Treitler describes the expressive nuances of the
Andante con moto of Mozart’s Symphony no. 39 in E flat, K. 543, in terms of
psychological narrative, he is also pointing out –– in fact, explicitly so –– that
the transition to a Romantic culture of absolute (i.e., “Absolute”) music was
“staging of the body” in Mozart’s late Divertimento for string trio, K. 563,
this case, representative of many similar cultural interventions in absolute
music on the part of modern scholars, the critical strategy permits us to
distinguish between what is going on in the music itself –– essentially
absolute and self-‐sufficient? –– and the critic’s license to hear
exemplifications
of
physical
or
cultural
phenomena
outside
of
the
score.
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
38
Rather than questioning the aesthetic autonomy of the music, the reading is a
rhetorical performance that relies, as rhetoric, on the ability to persuade its
* * *
no so much an agreed idea as an aesthetic problem.”41 The problem begins
with ascertaining the degree of aesthetic autonomy that might plausibly be
ascribed to a particular musical work or practice. Since no music exists
outside of some cultural context, cultural contingency alone is not useful in
establishing the boundaries of absolute music (unless it were to refute the
concept altogether). For practical purposes, music involving any kind of a
verbal text, beyond generic titles and performance directions, should be
excluded from the category, although it is reasonable to make distinctions
regarding the substantive role of the text in the production and reception of
the music in question. It is certainly reasonable to distinguish between
conventional musical procedures (The Art of Fugue, a Clementi piano sonata)
and that which invites, or requires, a range of specific, “real-‐world”
references (Wellington’s Victory, the Grand Canyon Suite). The term “absolute
music” emerged at a time when the need for such distinctions began to be felt
more pressingly than before. It was also a time when a the practice of
culturally unmarked “absolute music” was giving way to a more self-‐
awareness of the earlier practice seems to develop during the eighteenth
century, and continues alongside the emergence of the consciously elevated
Romantic aesthetic and practice in the next century (say, a popular air with
variations by Henri Herz alongside the “Diabelli” Variations of Beethoven).
continued to accompany the accumulating canon of Western art music into
the twentieth century, when the canon and the accompanying aesthetics
century, however, the two “cultures” of absolute music yield a new division:
the fixed musical text as the autonomous object of musical analysis, as
Traditionally, the work of professional music theorists is performed on
examples from the Western canon taken in the first sense, while increasingly
the work of musicologists (if it still concerns that canon) is performed in the
second sense. “Post-‐canonic” Western art music, for its part, continues to
Romantic era, though it is seldom inclined to forgo the prestige of the upper-‐
case Absolute.
In glossing a series of remarks from Igor Stravinsky, famous for his
dismissal of the Romantic fetish of music as “expression,” Richard Taruskin
“the music itself.” This certainly designates music as an isolatable aesthetic
idea of “the music itself” with his turn to serialism in the 1950s, asserting
that “it has nothing to do with the nineteenth century’s ‘absolute music,’ with
which it is now often mistakenly interchanged.”43 “For the absoluteness of
envisioned it, was an absolute expressivity, not an absolute freedom from
metaphysical sense of “Absolute” music has come to dominate usage, even
though Wagner himself used the term almost exclusively to designate
musical practice divorced form the rest of culture –– indeed, just “the music
itself.” For late Stravinsky and the high-‐modernists of the generation of
Boulez, Babbitt, and the Darmstadt school, the “first culture” of absolute
music had returned with a vengeance, or we might say, with an attitude.
Music was now provided with a pithy retort to that impertinent question,
Sonate, que me veux-tu?: “Nothing; who cares if you listen?” Even if this is a
contested caricature of musical high modernism, it suggests an extreme form
of “absolutism” that synthesizes aspects of both our traditional cultures, the
empirical-‐formalist emphasis on pure sounding object and a belief in music’s
The strength of the term absolute music, despite the continual
fluctuations of usage, lies in the way it forces some determination on the part
of the user (listener) as to what range of things he or she brings to the music
in question, and what range of things she or he is inclined to take away.
Questions
of
musical
expression,
signification,
and
value,
of
the
ontology
of
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
41
musical form, text, and work will always be with us, and the variety of such
questions is to be celebrated, not bemoaned. The concept of absolute music
remains a necessary compass in navigating our bearings in relation to
repertoire of all kinds, in deciding what it means to us as “just music,” what
kinds of things we might add to or subtract from that figure, and in analyzing
NOTES
1
For
the
text
of
Hoffmann’s
review,
see
E.T.A.
Hoffmann’s
Musical
Writings,
after
the
middle
of
the
eighteenth
century.
Its
citation
in
the
entry
“Sonata”
in
Rousseau’s
Dictionnaire
de
Musique
(Paris:
chez
la
Veuve
Duchesne,
1768,
444-‐45),
where
Rousseau
contrasts
the
aesthetic
claims
of
vocal
and
instrumental
music,
has
probably
most
contributed
to
its
canonization.
(Rousseau
cites
it
as
a
conversational,
rather
than
published,
remark.)
4
Richard
Wagner,
Gesammelte
Schriften
und
Dichtungen,
2nd
ed.
Leipzig:
E.
W.
Fritzsch,
1887,
vol.
2,
60-‐61.
Translation
in
Thomas
S.
Grey.,
ed.,
Richard
Wagner
and
his
World
(Princeton.
NJ:
Princeton
University
Press,
2009),
486.
5
On
this
general
argument
in
Wagner’s
writings,
and
its
parallels
in
contemporary
critical
thought
on
music,
see
Thomas
Grey,
Wagner’s
Musical
Prose:
Texts
and
Contexts
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
1995),
chapters
1
and
2.
6
Eduard
Hanslick,
On
the
Musically
Beautiful,
trans.
Geoffrey
Payzant
against
opera,”
although
this
has
no
bearing
on
his
project
of
remounting
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
42
Hanslick’s
case
against
“emotions”
as
the
content
of
music
in
terms
of
contemporary
analytic-‐philosophical
aesthetics.
Zangwill,
“Against
Emotion:
Hanslick
was
Right
About
Music,”
British
Journal
of
Aesthetics
44:1
(January
2004):
29-‐43
(here,
30).
Even
Carl
Dahlhaus
commits
this
error
in
chapter
2
of
The
Idea
of
Absolute
Music
when
he
writes:
“Hanslick,
in
appropriating
Wagner’s
term
‘absolute
musical
art,’
did
just
the
opposite
[of
Wagner],
reverting
to
E.
T.
A.
Hoffmann’s
thesis
that
pure
instrumental
music
was
the
‘true’
music
and
represented
the
goal
of
the
history
of
music.”
Dahlhaus,
The
Idea
of
Absolute
Music,
trans.
Roger
Lustig
(Chicago
and
London:
University
of
Chicago
Press,
1989),
27.
Moreover,
the
quoted
phrase
(reine,
absolute
Tonkunst)
is
of
course
Hanslick’s
version,
not
a
version
“appropriated
from
Wagner.”
Neither
Hanslick
nor
Hoffmann
claim
that
instrumental
music
“represents
the
goal
of
the
history
of
music.”
9
On
the
deleted
passage
see
Carl
Dahlhaus,
The
Idea
of
Absolute
Music,
28;
Mark
Evan
Bonds,
“Idealism
and
the
Aesthetics
of
Instrumental
Music
at
the
Turn
of
the
Nineteenth
Century,”
Journal
of
the
American
Musicological
Society
50:
2-‐3
(Summer-‐Fall
1997):
387-‐420
(here,
414-‐16);
and
Bonds,
“Aesthetic
Amputations:
Absolute
Music
and
the
Deleted
Endings
of
Hanslick’s
Vom
Musikalisch-Schönen,”
19th-Century
Music
36:1
(Summer
2012):
3-‐23.
10
“Wer
will
nun
auf
Beethoven
das
sein,
was
dieser
auf
Haydn
und
Mozart
im
Gebiete
der
absoluten
Musik
war?
Das
größte
Genie
würde
hier
nichts
mehr
vermögen,
eben
weil
der
Genius
der
absoluten
Musik
seiner
nicht
mehr
bedarf.”
Wagner,
Gesammelte
Schriften
und
Dichtungen,
vol.
3,
101.
11
Hanslick,
Vom
Musikalisch-Schönen,
ed.
D.
Strauss,
75;
On
the
Musically
Beautiful,
trans.
Payzant,
29.
A
problem
with
Payzant’s
rendition
of
this
famous
phrase
is
that
the
word
“tonal”
in
modern
English
usage
connotes
features
of
the
major-‐minor
diatonic
“tonal”
system
as
codified
since
the
seventeenth
century,
while
the
German
word
Ton
and
its
derivatives
(tönen,
tönend)
connote
musical
sound-‐material
more
generally
(even
if,
for
Hanslick
and
his
contemporaries,
such
material
was
inevitably
construed
as
“tonal”
also
in
the
more
restricted
sense).
12
Hanslick,
On
the
Musically
Beautiful,
28.
In
the
original
this
passage
reads:
“Es
ist
ein
specifisch
Musikalisches.
Darunter
verstehen
wir
ein
Schönes,
das
unabhängig
und
unbedürftig
eines
von
außen
her
kommenden
Inhaltes,
einzig
in
den
Tönen
und
ihrer
künstlerischen
Verbindung
liegt.
Die
sinnvollen
Beziehungen
in
sich
reizvoller
Klänge,
ihr
Zusammenstimmen
und
Widerstreben,
ihr
Fliehen
und
sich
Erreichen,
ihr
Aufschwingen
und
Ersterben,––dies
ist,
was
in
freien
Formen
vor
unser
geistiges
Anschauen
tritt
und
als
schön
gefällt.”
Hanslick,
Vom
Musikalisch-Schönen,
ed.
D.
Strauss,
74.
Despite
the
many
large
and
small
emendations
made
to
the
text
by
Hanslick
across
the
many
editions
that
appeared
in
his
lifetime
(as
indicated
in
Strauss’s
edition),
this
whole
passage
notably
remained
unchanged.
13
Sanna
Pederson,
“Defining
the
Term
‘Absolute
Music’
Historically,”
Music
14
Peter
Kivy,
Music
Alone:
Reflections
on
the
Purely
Musical
Experience
the
Turn
of
the
Nineteenth
Century.”
Journal
of
the
American
Musicological
Society
50:2-‐3
(Summer-‐Fall
1997):
387-‐420.
See
also
Bonds,
Music
as
Thought:
Listening
to
the
Symphony
in
the
Age
of
Beethoven
(Princeton,
NJ:
Princeton
University
Press,
2006);
[and
Absolute
Music:
The
History
of
an
Idea
(Oxford
and
New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
2014)
–
published
after
the
present
chapter
appeared].
16
Translation
cited
from
Carl
Dahlhaus,
The
Idea
of
Absolute
Music,
trans.
Roger
Lustig
(Chicago
and
London:
University
of
Chicago
Press,
1989),
131.
Cf.
Arthur
Schopenhauer,
The
World
as
Will
and
Representation,
trans.
E.
F.
J.
Payne
(New
York:
Dover,
1969).
vol.
1,
§52,
263.
Schopenhauer
does
in
fact
distinguish
between
the
justifiable
use
of
music
to
set
vocal
texts
(where
the
music
provides
an
appropriate
if
not
exclusively
necessary
“counterpoint”
to
the
text)
and
programmatic
or
“imitative”
music,
meaning
for
him
mainly
musical
imitations
of
natural
phenomenon.
These
miss
the
point
of
music
in
trying
to
operate
like
poetry
or
painting,
i.e.,
in
representing
the
phenomenal
world.
17
Richard
Wagner,
“Open
Letter
to
Marie
Wittgenstein
on
Liszt’s
Symphonic
Poems,”
trans.
Thomas
S.
Grey
in
The
Wagner
Journal
5:1
(March
2011):
65-‐81
(here,
76).
Original
in
Wagner,
Gesammelte
Schriften
und
Dichtungen,
vol.
5
(Leipzig:
E.
W.
Fritzsch,
1887),
191.
18
Ibid.
Wagner’s
original
epithet
(translated
here)
was
sinnlose
Köpfe.
In
the
published
version
of
the
text
Franz
Brendel,
editor
of
the
Neue
Zeitschrift
für
Musik,
seems
to
have
modified
this
to
read
“the
advocates
of
an
absolute
music
clearly
do
not
know
what
they
are
talking
about”
(Gesammelte
Schriften,
vol.
5,
191).
19
“While
applying
a
technique
that
had
its
origins
in
text
setting,”
the
Musical
Work-‐Concept,”
in
The
Musical
Work:
Reality
of
Invention?,
ed.
Michael
Talbot
(Liverpool:
Liverpool
University
Press,
2000),
128-‐52
(here,
135).
22
Wilhelm
Seidl,
“Absolute
Musik,”
Die
Musik
in
Geschichte
und
Gegenwart,
Sachteil,
vol.
1
(Kassel,
London,
New
York:
Bärenreiter,
1994),
cols.
15-‐24
(here
20).
23
Cited
by
Seidl,
“Absolute
Musik,”
col.
20.
Excerpts
of
Michaelis’s
essays
in
the
Allegemeine
musikalische
Zeitung
are
translated
in
Peter
le
Huray
and
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
44
James
Day,
eds.,
Music
and
Aesthetics
in
the
Eighteenth
and
Early
Nineteenth
Centuries
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University
Press,
1988),
199-‐205.
24
Eduard
Hanslick,
Concerten,
Componisten
und
Virtuosen
der
letzten
paragraph
extends
from
361-‐66).
Dana
Gooley
cites
this
review
of
the
Third
Symphony
premiere
as
an
example
of
Hanslick’s
methods
of
negotiating
between
establishing
a
consensus
with
his
readership
and
at
the
same
time
instructing
them
in
matters
of
taste
and
judgement,
especially
of
new
or
challenging
works.
Gooley,
“Hanslick
and
the
Institution
of
Criticism,”
Journal
of
Musicology
28:3
(Summer
2011):
289-‐324
(here,
313-‐15).
26
Hanslick,
Concerten,
Componisten
und
Virtuosen,
366.
27
Ibid.,
367.
28
Ibid.,
368.
29
The
phrase
“between
absolute
and
program
music”
has
been
invoked
in
modern
critical
scholarship
above
all
with
reference
to
the
role
of
topical-‐
characteristic
and
narrative
traits
in
the
symphony
from
Beethoven
to
Mahler,
as
well
as
elements
of
generic
and
formal
hybridity.
See
for
example:
Walter
Wiora,
“Zwischen
absoluter
und
Programmmusik,”
in
Festschrift
Friedrich
Blume
(Kassel:
Bärenreiter,
1963),
381-‐88;
Ludwig
Finscher,
“’Zwischen
absoluter
und
Programmusik’:
Zur
Interpretation
der
deutschen
romantischen
Symphonie,”
in
Über
Symphonien:
Festschrift
Walter
Wiora,
ed.
Christian-‐Hellmut
Mahling
(Tutzing:
Hans
Schneider,
1979),
103-‐15;
and
Anthony
Newcomb,
“Once
More
‘Between
Absolute
and
Program
Music’:
Schumann’s
Second
Symphony,”
19th-Century
Music
7:3
(Spring
1984):
233-‐
50.
The
aesthetic
implications
of
these
intersections
are
also
discussed
in
chapter
9
(“The
Idea
of
the
Musically
Absolute
and
the
Practice
of
Program
Music”)
of
Dahlhaus,
The
Idea
of
Absolute
Music,
128-‐40.
30
W.
Seidl,
“Absolute
Musik,”
col.
16.
31
John
Neubauer,
The
Emancipation
of
Music
from
Language:
Departure
from
Mimesis
in
Eighteenth-Century
Aesthetics
(New
Haven
and
London:
Yale
University
Press,
1986).
See
especially
chapter
12,
“Toward
Autonomous
Music,”
168-‐81.
32
Cited
in
Neubauer,
169.
33
For
a
summary
of
the
terms
of
Kant’s
aesthetics
and
music’s
ambiguous
position
in
the
Critique
of
Judgement
see
the
chapter
(“Kant”)
by
Hannah
Ginsborg
in
The
Routledge
Companion
to
Philosopy
and
Music,
ed.
Theodore
Gracyk
and
Andrew
Kania
(New
York
and
London:
Routledge,
2011),
328-‐38,
esp.
the
section
on
“Kant’s
alleged
formalism,”
334-‐36,
as
well
as
Neubauer,
The
Emancipation
of
Music,
chapter
13,
“Kant
and
the
Origins
of
Formalism,”
182-‐92.
34
See
for
example
Nicholas
Cook,
The
Schenker
Project:
Culture,
Race,
and
Music
Theory
in
fin-de-siècle
(Oxford
and
New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
Chapter
1
“Absolute
Music”
45
2007)
as
well
as
Kevin
Korsyn’s
review-‐essay
in
Music
Analysis
28:1
(2009):
153-‐79.
35
Hanslick,
On
the
Musically
Beautiful,
31
(cf.
Vom
Musikalisch-Schönen,
ed.
D.
Strauss,
79).
36
Some
preliminary
considerations
relevant
to
the
question
can
be
found
in
the
contributions
by
Steven
Davies
(“Rock
vs.
Classical
Music”)
and
Theodore
Gracyk
(“Valuing
and
Evaluating
Popular
Music”)
to
the
special
issue
on
“Aesthetics
and
Popular
Culture”
of
The
Journal
of
Aesthetics
and
Art
Criticism
57:2
Spring
1999.
Within
the
culture
of
Western
modernist
art
music
the
experimental
tradition
from
John
Cage
back
to
the
Italian
“futurists”
would
have
to
be
considered.
Early
in
the
twentieth
century
Feruccio
Busoni
invoked
the
term
“absolute
music”(without
necessarily
envisioning
later
experimental
let
alone
popular
practices)
to
mean
a
new,
improvisatory
practice
unfettered
by
conventions
of
scale,
tonality,
“textbook”
form,
or
the
orchestral
instrumentarium.
“Absolute”
in
this
sense
means
absolutely
free,
unbounded.
See
Erinn
Knyt,
“Feruccio
Busoni
and
the
Absolute
in
Music:
Form,
Nature,
and
Idee,”
Journal
of
the
Royal
Musical
Association
137:1
(2012):
35-‐69.
37
Similarly,
the
musical
meditations
of
Vladimir
Jankélévitch,
which
have
large
remains
committed
to
the
Romantic-‐metaphysical
view
(although
it
seems
unclear
whether
that
can
be
distinguished
here
from
the
traditional
“aesthetics
of
feeling,”
as
writers
from
Hanslick
to
Dahlhaus
have
at
pains
to
do).
Sponheuer,
“Postromantische
Wandlungen
der
‘Idee
der
absoluten
Musik’,”
Archiv
für
Musikwissenschaft
62:2
(2005):
151-‐63.
43
Richard
Taruskin,
“A
Myth
of
the
Twentieth
Century:
The
Rite
of
Spring,
the
Tradition
of
the
New,
and
‘the
Music
Itself’,”
in
Defining
Russia
Musically
(Princeton
NJ:
Princeton
University
Press,
1997),
360-‐88
(here,
365-‐68).