Wolgang Rihm - A Chiffre The 1980 and Beyond

WOLFGANG RIHM, A CHIFFRE
The 1980s and Beyond

Wolfgang Rihm,
a Chiffre
The 1980s and Beyond
Yves Knockaert
With a Foreword
by Richard McGregor
Leuven University Press

© 2017 Leuven University Press / Presses Universitaires de Louvain / Universitaire
Pers Leuven, Minderbroedersstraat 4, B-3000 Leuven/Louvain (Belgium)
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ISBN 978 94 6270 123 6

eISBN 978 94 6166 237 8
D / 2017 / 1869 / 48
NUR: 663
Layout: Friedemann Vervoort

Cover design: Griet Van haute
Table of Contents
Foreword by Richard McGregor 11
Introduction 19
Analysed Compositions 27
Part I - Style 29
1 Between Classical and Individual 31

Individual Position 31
Specific Terminology and Tools 34
Generative Pole and Generated Elements 35
Generative Pole versus Rewriting and Overwriting 36
Fragmentation 37
Disturbance 38
Single Event 40
Focal Pitch and Focal Pitch Aggregate 40
Process and Planning 42
Form 43
Relationship between Form and Structure 45
Conclusion of the Composition 48
2 Between Modernism and Postmodernism 51

Position towards Postmodernism 52
Position towards Modernism 57
Musical Backgrounds in Modernism and Nineteenth Century 59
Philosophical Influences in Postmodernism 63
Philosophical Influences in Modernism 69
5
3 Musical Traces 73
Dealing with Allusion and Quotation 73
Verbal Allusions in the Chiffre Cycle 75
Allusion to a Style: Baroque 78
Allusion to a Composer: Varèse 81
Allusion to a Composition: Schubert’s Octet 87
4 Fine Arts 93
The Music of Painting 94
Fine Arts Parallels: Different Viewpoints 96
Fine Arts Parallels: Rihm’s Viewpoints 97
Line Drawing 99
Colour 104
Layering and Overpainting 105
Large Drawing 110
Kurt Kocherscheidt 111
The Sound of Wood 113
5 Repetition 115
Create a State by (non-)Repetition 116
Repetition as Questioning 118
Repetition as Writer’s Block 119
Repetition as Unique Event 120
Repetition versus Generating Elements 120
Repetition in the Context of Style 120
6 Nature and Proportions 123

Rhizome 123
Proportions in Nature 124
Symmetry and Balance 125
Proportions in Music 128
6
7 Studying Proportions 131
Dis-Kontur, Sub-Kontur and Klavierstück Nr. 4 132
Schwebende Begegnung 136
String Quartet no. 4 140
Proportion Typology 140
Part II - Analysis 143

8 Integrated Approach 145
Sound as a Whole 145
Some Examples 147
Integrated Analytical Tool 148
Moment Analysis of the Chiffre Cycle 149
9 Parameter Characteristics 157

Melody 157
Melodic Compositions 157
Melodic Element 158
Harmony 161
Metatonality 161
Micro-interval Dissonance 164
The Tritone-Triad 165
Chord Chain 166
Cluster 169
Informal Harmony and Texture 171
Tempo – Metre – Rhythm 171
Dynamics – Articulation – Timbre 173
Youth Experience 174
Timbre and Resonance 176
Resonance and Fine Arts 177
Silence 177
Texture 180
7
10 String Quartet in the 1980s: String Quartets nos. 5-8 183
Aesthetic viewpoints 184
Group Formation versus Individual Quartets 187
Common First Note f# 187
The Importance of Pitch f# 188
Transitions in String Quartet No. 5 188
Closing Pitch 195
Two Pairs of String Quartets 196
Notebook Quartets: Hidden Structure 197
String Quartet no. 7: Arch Form 205
String Quartet no. 8: Structure based on Fibonacci Series 206
11 Group Formation: Chiffre Cycle 209

The Meaning of “Chiffre” 209
Chiffre: a Cycle 211
12 Chiffre Cycle: Harmony 213

The Tritone-Triad 213
Chromatic Cluster 219
Harmonic Rhythm and Chordal Density 221
Consonance versus Dissonance 223
Focal Pitch 225
13 Chiffre Cycle: Resonance 227

Chiffre I: Resonance Space versus Sound Space 227
Chiffre IV: Resonance Research 229
Chiffre VIII: Meta-resonance 231
Sound Space 232
8
14 Chiffre Cycle: Cyclic Elements 235
Cyclic Elements: Typology 235
Repeated Passage 236
Overwritten Passage 236
Repeated Single Instrumental Part 237
Cyclic Elements: Similar Event 239
Returning Concept 239
Cyclic Elements: Three Figures 243
Figure 1: Generated Elements 246
Figure 2: Generated Elements 249
Figure 3: Generative Poles and Generated Elements 253
15 Chiffre Cycle: Symmetry 259

Melodic Symmetry 259
Rhythmic Symmetry 261
Time Signature Symmetry 262
Harmonic Symmetry 262
Total Symmetry 263
Symmetrical Placing 264
16 Chiffre Cycle: Proportions 265

Tempo Indications 265
Tempo Changes 266
Time Signature 267
Proportions in the Chiffre Cycle 268
Proportions in Chiffre I 268
Proportions in Chiffre II 270
Proportions in Chiffre III 272
Proportions in Chiffre IV 275
Proportions in Bild 277
Proportions in Chiffre V 278
Proportions in Chiffre VI 279
Proportions in Chiffre VII 281
Proportions in Chiffre VIII 282
9
Proportions in Nach-Schrift 283
Proportions of Length in the Chiffre Pieces 283
Comparison: Chiffre II, V and VI 284
Comparison: Chiffre II and VII 285
Conclusions 287
Final Conclusions 289
Appendix – Division in Sections 297
Notes 301
Selected Bibliography 323
General Index 333
Index of Compositions by Wolfgang Rihm 337

Foreword by Richard McGregor
Wolfgang Rihm: “Nun weißt du es”1
H ow to deal with Wolfgang Rihm” asks Seth Brodsky somewhat

disingenuously at the beginning of his article on the composer2 and
for some analysts this has been THE question. Rihm’s fecundity and
apparent lack of system have been a stumbling block to in-depth analysis of
the generating processes in his work, although as Alastair Williams has
shown in various articles, such engagement is perfectly possible in
traditional, aesthetic and poetic terms. The “fly in the ointment” for many
writers on Rihm in the past has been their heavy reliance on the composer’s
copious and highly individualistic writings on music and the compositional
process, often in the course of programme notes written as an after-
reflection on the specific work. The essence of the problem is that Rihm’s
writings are themselves like codes or signs (indeed, chiffre) without
complete definition, open to interpretation, “in the moment”.
An understanding of Rihm’s compositional processes has suffered from
the lack of an overview of a range of compositions which cover an extended
period of time. The only substantive work in this regard is Brügge’s 2004
study of the string quartets, but this is the study of the genre and is not an
analytical study per se since it does not investigate Rihm’s processes of
composition in depth other than to show sketch material where it exists.
Brügge’s work certainly does not propose a vocabulary for objectifying the
musical elements in order to identify recurring stylistic traits. The present
book on the other hand begins the process of shaping an analytical
vocabulary to do so.
The Sign and its Meaning

I have argued elsewhere3 that Rihm’s development as a composer was given
impetus through his reaction to criticism received in the late 1970s, as well
as his encounter with the works of Antonin Artaud and Arnulf Rainer in
11
12 Wolfgang Rihm, a Chiffre
particular, artists for whom signification was a fundamental aspect of their

work. Alastair Williams has presented an overview of Rihm’s output in his
book Music in Germany since 1968, a date significant enough for Rihm who
recognised as opus 1 the work Gesänge, started in that year although it only
appeared in its final form in 1970. As Williams shows, the student
years culminated in several significant works, particularly Dis-Kontur
(1974/1984) and Sub-Kontur (1974-5) which pointed forward towards later
developments.4 Following on from his time as a student Rihm’s name
became associated with group of composers lumped together, in a term
promulgated by Aribert Reimann,5 as exponents of New Simplicity (Neue
Einfachheit). Rihm himself, writing in 1977, expressed a preference for the
descriptors New Multiplicity (Neue Vielfalt) and New Clarity (Neue
Eindeutigkeit),6 not surprisingly, since the original term had something
disparaging within it, and was hardly applicable to some of the outputs
which it purported to describe.
For most of his mature composing life Rihm has been concerned not
with “the cycle” as such but with the idea of continuity, or of the unique
sound, or the effect the musical idea, or the potentialities of work that is “in
progress”, and so on. For example, in the 1980s, at exactly the time he was
writing the cycle of works under the title Chiffre (the seventh of which was
completed at the end of July 1985) he was also sketching (and “completed”
in early June 1985), the work Zeichen I – Doubles. Chiffre VIII did not
appear until March 1988 (but listed as 1985-88) and by that time Zeichen
had spawned three “extensions” to itself under the new title Klangbeschrei
bung. Rihm’s programme note for Zeichen, despite its brevity, contains
several very specific pointers to his processual thinking:
Zeichen is a work in progress. This first part bears a subtitle: ‘doubles’, a

music for two soloists and two orchestral groups. The term ‘Zeichen’ is
a central concept of my musical thinking. ‘Zeichen’ includes: the
setting. The act of ‘Zeichen’ setting is an act of freedom. The sound
writes itself as script, soundscript. The solos are one in a dialogical
solo. The ‘Zeichen’ originate from realms that are not accessible with
language. Because of this they sound. Perhaps there is suggests a
reference to an ‘arte cifra’, but it must not be looked for.7
In the first place, the terminology “work in progress” denies finality to the
work in question: it leaves open the possibility that there is more to come,
not in the Boulezian way of revision but in the notion of re-imagining and
re-imaging. This approach allows for the reworking of previous material
into a new structure – such as happened with Tutuguri, or, the adding to a
group of works, where the link might just be through the genre itself, such
as in the string quartets, or, an expanding, overwriting, re-envisioning as in
Klangbeschreibung.8
It is then the word “Zeichen” which provides the focus for discussion
into the essence of Rihm’s musical processes when he asserts that the word
defines a “central concept” of his musical thinking. Knockaert suggests that
the word can mean “character, sign, signal, mark, marker, reference, symbol
[or] indication”.9 This implies that any distinctive musical utterances can be
“Zeichen”: from a musical idea that catches the attention, to the markings
through which individual pitches are articulated, to the very act of
inscribing music – the placing or setting (Setzung) of material. For the
semiotician, the “Sign” is a mediator and in Rihm’s usage it balances, as
Alastair Williams puts it, the composer’s “mixing of inner subjectivity with
semiotic codes”.10 Rihm’s inner subjectivity has never been satisfactorily
explored because it touches on the very personal reaction to stimuli that
produce his highly individualistic musical response. From time to time he
gives clues, but these are rarely precise explanations. His writings and
interviews, which are often mined by authors seeking to explore the
“meaning” of a composition, are either aesthetic-philosophical or, con
versely, aphoristic – and he has no hesitation in resorting to neologisms
where he perceives the lack of a suitable word to express his processes.
It is therefore the balance between “inner subjectivity” and “semiotic
code” that permits “Zeichen” its multiplicity of meanings. It is noticeable,
nevertheless, that Knockaert avoids using the word “gesture” in his
definitions, possibly because the word has different meanings in varied
linguistic contexts, and yet in English language usage it has both literal and
semiotic meaning, both of which can be applicable to an individual work.
Rihm uses words in an ambiguous way without necessarily ever explaining
their significance. In a forthcoming article Barbara Zuber constructs an
understanding of the somewhat contested term “Gestalt” in the context of
Rihm’s Verwandlung works.11 In practice, “Gestalten” could be “Zeichen” –
for it is signification which defines meaning at a particular contextual point

in Rihm’s work. Of course, in analysing the composer’s work there is
always the danger, in the absence of “direction” from the composer, of
over-interpreting.
Taking the 1979-80 work Nature Morte – Still Alive for thirteen solo
strings as an example – should one look for a connection with Lutosławski’s
Preludes and Fugue for thirteen solo strings written between 1970 and
1972? Naturally comparisons can be made regarding possible similar, or
conversely diverse, treatment of the equivalent forces by the two composers.
But any idea of influence from the older composer’s work relies on clues
from Rihm himself, and there are none, unlike his reference to the music of
Edgard Varèse whose ideas are at least suggested by, for example, Rihm’s
use of Varèse’s Arcana score instruction “Silence to be Beaten”.12 While the
affective, subjective or personal interpretations of “Zeichen” are difficult to
explicate, the purely musical signs are much more apparent: Nature Morte
is built on the pervasive use of the (pp) < (fff) > dynamic shape which
alternates with other related shapes such as pp < sffz, and switching between
p and f.
Completed just three months later than Nature Morte, in April 1980,
also during his time in Rome at the Villa Massimo as recipient of the
German Art Academy Fellowship, 1. Doppelgesang is a work whose
connections and significations lie closer to the surface. Rihm’s “inner
subjectivity” is strongly and intriguingly suggested by his comment
(contextualised by Andrew McGregor in his CD review of the work) that
“this is the poetry of violence, and Rihm admits that the shattering side-
drum outbursts that destroy the ending were composed ‘from the depths of
a wretchedly quaking uncertainty’.”13 On another level Rihm conceived this
work thinking of the “friendship of Rimbaud and Verlaine” and on the
musical semiotic level “the free forms of lyrical prose and musical
hybrids…”.14 There is, however, a “sign” in the title which suggests a broader
more long-term musical thread going right back to his opus 1. The work is
Gesänge and Rihm has commented on his 2. Doppelgesang that it is “Janus
singing”.15 Again, when interviewed by Laurie Shulman concerning 3.
Doppelgesang, placing the 2004 work in the context of the others, the
composer points to numerous “signs” which suggest how these “double
songs” should be understood: they are “concertante works of a cantabile,
arioso character – instrumental music to be sung, as it were” … he

“endeavour[s] to write ‘singing’ solo parts with well-nigh no figuration or
‘padding’; a pure drawing, a sung line” … “the ‘Double Songs’, the dialogue
character is embedded in the line itself: two voices sing one [sic] which is a
dialogue within itself ” … “interior dialogue of the single voice made up as
it is of two personalities: separation within the smallest space”.16
With so many musical indications as to how Rihm understands the
“Double Song” it is a small step to reconsidering and re-evaluating the
composer’s approach to song setting – especially in the knowledge that he
frequently sets texts by schizophrenics – classically double personalities or
as he put it when interviewed by Luca Lombardi in Rome in 1979 “using
texts by schizophrenic writers, or writers not categorizable in an unequivocal
way, such as Artaud or Nietzsche”.17 And it is to Nietzsche one might look
for origins. The poem Ruhm und Ewigkeit contains the following stanza:
Ich sehe hinauf –

Dort rollen Lichtmeere
– oh Nacht, oh Schweigen, oh todtenstiller Lärm!...
Ich sehe ein Zeichen –,
aus fernsten Fernen
sinkt langsam funkelnd ein Sternbild gegen mich…18
The double-voice re-emerges in other contexts and notably, for example, in

Die Eroberung von Mexico.19 It is through connections such as these that a
greater understanding of the Rihm’s treatment of line is to be found. In his
programme note for Zeichen, as we have seen, he asserts that the “sound
writes itself as script … soundscript”. The act of writing is a function of
maintaining a single line – as with words each pitch is the product of a
continuous line from the point that the pen touches the paper.
Zeichen therefore, as a work, can be interpreted on many levels, but
clearly the composition itself, and specifically what Rihm has written about
it, offer various clues to an understanding of “Zeichen” as a “central concept”
of Rihm’s thinking. Although Knockaert does not analyse the work of that
title in this book, it is through his analysis of the effect of Rihm’s use of
“signs” that characterise the composer’s music which will undoubtedly
contribute to a greater understanding of Rihm’s work, and in particular of
the string quartets and the Chiffre cycle.
Eine Chiffre
In 1985, with seven works collectively called Chiffre behind him, as well as
the composition Bild – eine Chiffre (1984), and having used the word in the
programme notes for Sub-Kontur (1974-5), Jakob Lenz (1977-78), and
Erscheinung (1978),20 Rihm’s final comment on Zeichen is revealing:
“perhaps this suggests a reference to an ‘arte cifra’, but it must not be looked
for”. Arte Cifra (also known as Transavantguardia), an Italian neo-
Expressionist movement of the late 1970s/early 1980s was presented in an
exhibition in Cologne at the Paul Maenz Gallery in June and July 1979,
curated by the German art critic Wolfgang Max Faust. In an article
published the following year he questioned whether this movement
represented “New Subjectivity” in which was found “courage, irony,
aggression, fun…”21 including “free figuration, emotional pathos, ironic
citations and mostly [by] a clear individualization”.22
On several levels these words could describe Rihm’s music, but he is
quite clear that “arte cifra … must not be looked for” in his music. It is
entirely possible that Rihm is seeking not to be characterised as “belonging”
to this group, especially since the German group of painters born in the
1950s, and therefore contemporaries of Rihm – known as Die Junge Wilden
(or Die Neue Wilden) as exponents of Neo-Expressionism – were being
associated with the Italian Arte Cifra group. This group’s work has been
categorised as “bold, raw, brutish, spontaneous, messy, vital, emotional,
sensual, anti-modern, anti-progressive and at times nihilistic…,
intentionally male-dominated [promoting] the idea of the artist as hero”.23
Perhaps Rihm’s music does not go that far, but, judging from the painters
represented in the 60th birthday tribute to Rihm, and in particular Georg
Baselitz, there are undoubtedly areas of congruence between the ideas of
this group and Rihm’s compositional thinking.24
It is not that Rihm denies that there could be a connection between his
“use” of “Chiffre” and the art movements – in fact quite the opposite.
Alastair Williams suggests that Rihm’s use of the word changes in meaning
and intent from the 1970s into the 1980s. In the earlier decade, Williams
contends that Rihm used the word to suggest “the way that allusions
participate in a larger sign system”. Citing use of the word in relation to the
programme notes for Sub-Kontur, Jakob Lenz and Erscheinung. Williams
suggests that in the 1980s Rihm began to use the word “to convey the direct
presence of something … [and] with regard to the [Chiffre] pieces … the

word denotes a fusion of sign and meaning …”.25 If Williams is correct then
Rihm’s comment that “arte cifra” should not be looked for, simply means
that the music is stripped of allusions, just as one might interpret Ohne
Titel, the “non-title” of String Quartet no. 5 as implying perhaps that the
work is “abstract”: except that the very “non-title” brings with it allusions to
the graphic arts. Always in the 1980s Rihm is pulling analogies from Fine
Arts to describe the compositional processes – as indeed he did when
speaking of 3. Doppelgesang as “pure drawing”.26
It is therefore essential when considering Rihm’s music to have a vocabulary

which deals with the musical elements – the actual signs – first and
foremost, and the present volume aims to fill the gap that exists in this area.
Until we understand the relationship of different musical elements to each
other in Rihm’s music – the essential threads that bind his work together
and which interact in interpretable ways on the music canvas, such allusions
that Rihm evokes can only be partially understood. If that is achieved in
part as a result of this volume, then it will be a valuable document.
Introduction
W olfgang Rihm (°1952) is one of the most prolific and most performed
composers of his generation. By 2017 he had written over 400
compositions in all genres: operas, compositions for solo voice(s) and
orchestra or ensemble eventually combined with choir, works for choir a
cappella, songs for voice and ensemble or piano, orchestral pieces, concertos
and other works for solo instrument(s) and orchestra, compositions for
chamber orchestra, chamber music and pieces for a solo instrument, mostly
for the piano and organ. Many compositions form groups or series; a
peculiarity of these series is the mixture of settings, going from solo to
orchestra, pairing instrumental and vocal. Together with his compositions,
Rihm offers a large collection of texts and interviews: next to comments on
his music and essays on aesthetics and theory, he reveals which composers
he admires and which have had great influences on his musical thinking.
He started writing texts as a young composer in the 1970s and deliberately
stopped doing so a few years before 2000. In truth, Rihm has always been
quite reluctant to write about his own music, especially when asked for
information on a (new) composition for a programme booklet. From time
to time, he has not hidden his unwillingness in his comments, using a
peculiar sense of irony. Apart from this reluctant attitude, there is no clear
reason why he stopped writing texts. Maybe it was the Zeitgeist, since the
same happened for instance to Helmut Lachenmann, also a frequent writer,
who stopped providing texts on his own music around the same time.
Having by text explained and justified their music in extreme detail, as did
Stockhausen for instance, composers are now again persuaded by the fact
that all is in their music and that the music has to speak for itself. The lack
of texts in Rihm’s hand is largely compensated for by interesting interviews.
The purpose of this book is to give an insight into Wolfgang Rihm’s
musical concepts, aesthetic and technique in general, and more specifically
in the 1980s. As it is based on the results of a PhD in Musicology (Leuven
University, June 2016), devoted to the analysis – including unavoidably and
consequently the analysability – of some instrumental music of the 1980s,
19
the music of that period is at the core of this study. During the 1980s Rihm
wrote about 100 compositions, more than 70 of which are instrumental,
containing the String Quartets nos. 4-8 and the Klangbeschreibung (1982-
87)1 Tutuguri (1980-82) and Chiffre series. Because the presence and
importance of the string quartet as a genre are obvious in this period, with
five of his 13 numbered quartets, String Quartets nos. 5-8 are given special
attention; String Quartet no. 4, a transitional work mostly in the style of the
1970s, although composed in 1980-81, will be referred to when necessary.
Because the variety within the ten pieces of the Chiffre cycle, with settings
varying from trio to chamber orchestra, and also while these pieces
constitute a cycle, this cycle is the second main core of my book.
Compositions standing on their own, such as the string quartets, can reveal
quite different approaches to the setting of a specific genre – a question will
be whether these independent works are also related and, if yes, to what
extent – while a series of works can only be defined as a “cycle” for reasons
of common and unifying characteristics. Indeed, Rihm claims that the
Chiffre cycle is conceived as a “work cycle” (Werkzyklus), different from
non-cyclic series, such as Jagden und Formen (1995-2008).
Furthermore, the focus on compositions of the 1980s is due to
fundamental aspects of Rihm’s musical development. In the late 1970s the
young composer started to develop his personal style, feeling the need to
explore a specific “lack” in the rich collection of methods that he had had
to study in previous years. Witnesses of the diversity of his study are found
in his early compositions, where he applied a wide range of techniques, as
well as formal and structural possibilities, such as A-B-A scheme, variation,
motivic cell, dodecaphonic row, 12-tone aggregate, indeterminacy,
palindromic construction, mirroring around a pivot, and small-scale
symmetry. The lack, in fact the only thing he had not been taught, was
composing without the use of a system, including composition without any
preplanning: “[i]t was important for me to leave coherence behind, at least
spiritually.”2 Rihm imagined the possibility of escaping from any system:
“[t]he education based on systems of the far and recent past opens the
unique utopian state to be able to compose systemless.”3
Nevertheless, Rihm did not look for a break with the past. In a public
discussion in 2002, when asked how he had struggled to break free from
the rigid serial way of composing and when the break exactly took place, he
Introduction 21
replied: “I don’t know anything about that break. I consider everything that
I make as a continuity.”4 Consequently, Rihm denied not only any system
coercion or Systemzwang in the 1980s, but also – perhaps surprisingly – the
constraint of creating in a systemless way. In fact, he was challenging the
need for coherence or Zusammenhang in a series of attempts or trials,
defined in German as Versuch and Suche: the “search” for the composition,
the “attempt” at composing a piece, replacing the aesthetic of the final
version of a composition as a sublime stage of perfection. Commenting on
the Sixth String Quartet, Blaubuch, Rihm put it as follows: “I believe that I
was conscious of the fact that the quartet was, in its genesis, the search for
a quartet.”5 And even more concise: “The attempt is the purpose”, on the
occasion of the composition of La musique creuse le ciel for two pianos and
orchestra (1977-79).6 However, near the end of the same decade, the 1980s,
Rihm had to admit the limitedness of his utopian quest:
I am not capable of making a work of art without coherence. I can’t

achieve it. Nobody can. I say this often: just try to write a work without
coherence, you won’t succeed.7
Worth mentioning is the fact that the above quotation was preceded by the
following subtle suggestion by the interviewer Martin Wilkening: “If
someone reads your texts before having heard any of your music, the idea
could arise that your music is without coherence.”
Quite the opposite was asked by Joachim Brügge:
More than once you have spoken about the processuality in your
music, mostly the result of an undetermined start. Would you
experience it as a restriction or even more as a ‘threat’ (Bedrohung) of
your work, when in your alleged ‘unbound’ music someone as a result
of in-depth analysis could demonstrate formal connections, an inner
coherence (as musical ‘organisation’ or ‘logic’)?
Rihm’s answer can be as surprising as the question:
Absolutely not. I am very happy when this happens. But I don’t work
with such evidence in my mind. My aim is the most free-floating,
multi-layered possibility feasible: to reach a musical work of art. There
is no ‘threat’ by insight or knowledge, only structural growth of the
conceptual organic kind.8
Maybe there is a way in between coherence and the absence of it, as a

reconciliation of the system and systemlessness: in 1985 Rihm described
this in between situation as “a new kind of coherence, no longer only
restricted to the process”. With this utterance he was referring to two of his
preferred predecessors, Debussy and Schönberg (more precisely: Schönberg
around 1910); he was also making use of his preference for dialectical
thinking, as “the contradiction of the fixation and the freedom toward the
fixed (already a strong contradiction), emerging energy”.9 In spite of the
fact that Rihm is writing in the same text Spur, Faden that “musical logic is
absurd”, he finds salvation as he assumes that a new way of thinking music
is closer to growth than to fixation. He introduces the organic as a looser
(less logical) but at the same time firmer coherence, indispensable for
growth in nature, where invisible roots and visible plants producing fruits
are inseparable.
Rihm’s experiments in loosening coherence vary in nature. In the so-
called Notebook Compositions (Musik für drei Streicher (1977), Zwischen
blick: “Selbsthenker!” for string quartet (1983-84) and the String Quartets
nos. 5 and 6), he immediately composes the final version, writing it down
in a notebook, without any preplanning, without sketches, excluding all
possibilities of revision and correction. The Chiffre cycle is defined as a
series of single or unique events, put next to each other without any
relationship between them:
… attempts to find a musical language, free of restrictions in the course

and the processing. It is about the free setting of single events, without
causal relations, without commitments to order or sequence.10
Another argument for concentration on the 1980s is revealed by prominent

musical aspects emerging immediately afterwards. In the string quartets of
the 1990s for instance, Rihm clearly restores traditional or classical
principles and techniques, such as the imitation at the beginning of the
Ninth String Quartet, Quartettsatz (1992-93) or the references to music
history and historical examples in the Tenth String Quartet (1993/97),
where the second movement is Battaglia/Follia. He also resumes more
openly references to the style of composers of the past: allusions can be
found in Quartettsatz to the French baroque overture, to Vivaldi, Beethoven,
Schubert (already in the title), Mahler, Janáček, Busoni, Schönberg and
Introduction 23
Berg.11 As I shall demonstrate, these allusions were not completely absent

the decade before, but from 1990 on they are much more in the foreground.
Other statements by the composer confirm the turn away from his
aesthetics of the 1980s, for instance when he admitted in 1995: “For some
time now I have felt a growing inner need to regain something in my
instrumental music that I could define as ‘flow’.”12 The turn away was in fact
more a slight bend or a correction of some aspects, while Rihm’s music after
1990 stays absolutely recognisable compared to that of the 1980s.
At the core of my doctoral study were the analysis and analysability of
instrumental compositions. This has certain consequences: for example, the
unavoidability that less considered in this book are interesting domains,
such as opera, music theatre and vocal music, performability and perfor
mance practice, reception and reception history, the perception and percep
tibility of Rihm’s music. However, aspects of these fields will be discussed in
relation to stylistic characteristics, and to analytical, more precisely structural
principles when necessary. Indeed, a certain friction between structure and
perception is a possibility, as is clear from this quotation:
And when after more than two minutes the music calms down into
pianissimo, the ones who still have the f#1 from the beginning in their
memory will be happy to discover that the whole fragment ends with
the same f#1. However, to try to build a general construction principle
upon this and upon the rivalry with another pitch is absurd in view of
the multitude of fast and intertwined events. What immediately
follows already gives sufficient proof of this.13
This is an ambiguous comment on Rihm’s Fifth String Quartet by Ulrich

Dibelius. In fact, he admits that there is a structural function given to that
particular pitch, while at the same time he questions its validity, based on
its presumed imperceptibility. Judgements on the probability of the
perceptibility of a musical phenomenon are subjective to a certain degree,
just as analytical results cannot exist without a certain (subjective)
interpretation.
There is no doubt that Rihm’s music reaches the goal of his so often
quoted credo of “wanting to move and being moved”. That “all in music is
emotional” becomes clear from the first hearing of any Rihm composition.
Therefore it is not necessary for me to deepen or explore what has been
written so repeatedly: statements such as this music is direct, nervous and
hectic with excessive stress on dynamics and accents, this music is louder
and very loud than it is soft, it grabs you by the throat, it keeps you on the
edge of your seat.
I refuse to deliver a format for analysis together with what I make. It is

often that a form of art simultaneously advertises for its research tool.
And I do not offer it, which is true. One has to look for access by means
of fascination.14
Indeed, the only thing that is missing in Rihm’s impressive body of texts
and interviews is the analysis of his own music, next to the description of
his composition methods and processes. For almost every composition
until 1997 he wrote a short introduction or comment, using mostly a
metaphorical language, which aims at a good understanding of his music
and which creates an access point for the interested listener. Regrettably,
this enormous source of information has caused writing about Rihm to be
very often based on copying and paraphrasing his own ideas, instead of
trying to find new independent approaches. Ulrich Dibelius put it very
clearly and pitilessly in his essay on Rihm’s string quartets:
It is my opinion that ultimately in this case every analytical attempt has

been particularly pleonastic and inadequate, every quoting of Rihm’s
own utterances has been an excuse and any hermeneutic bridge
building has been threatened with the decay into nice word images,
into the anecdotal or the overvaluation of the particularistic. What this
music requires is immediate confrontation.15
Among musicologists, the idea of the un-analysability of Rihm’s music is

rejected. Beate Kutschke writes about “… the choice of compositional
method and elements, which are conventionally granted as rather random
and therefore un-analysable…”16 Barbara Zuber is the devil’s advocate,
defining the form of Jagden und Formen as ein wirres Mosaik or:
… as a confused mosaic of countless previously made or revised

fragments. I put it so deliberately, taking a risk that promptly again the
un-analysability of Rihm’s works, in fact their illegibility, is asserted –
which after examination of the score in depth obviously turns out to be
invalid.17
Introduction 25
It is also Joachim Brügge’s opinion that Rihm’s un-analysability is no more

than a “nimbus”.18 The utopian systemlessness of the composer does not
automatically imply its un-analysability for the musicologist. While Rihm
does not rely on systems, or at least not consistently, the analyst must
develop flexible analytical tools. To what extent is this music systemless?
What stays system-bound and what indeed is freed from any systemic
coercion?19 And from a more global viewpoint: do looser systems imply
stylistic changes in Rihm’s personal music style, developed in the 1980s? Is
it possible to describe specific characteristics for this period different from
the previous and the ensuing stages?
In my attempt to bring the matter to a favourable conclusion, I feel
supported and encouraged by Rihm himself when he says: “Anyone who
sets out to search with the passion of a real researcher will reveal
everything.”20 In fact, I also feel supported by Rihm’s statements and
utterances on his working process: that he does not describe his methods
and processes exhaustively or systematically does not exclude the fact that
he might give information on his compositional approach, albeit not in a
systematic way. Reading through Rihm’s texts and interviews, these
certainly reveal a lot of useful clues about his compositional processes.
Clues like these will be confronted with my own design and application of
analytical tools and methods.
Rihm is a genuinely individualistic composer who developed his own
concepts and ideas. As a postmodernist, he is not reluctant to apply
modernist methods and develop all of the past in the direction of the new.
This will be described in chapters 1 and 2, Between Classical and Individual
and Between Modernism and Postmodernism. The third chapter goes back
to the past and analyses Musical Traces, although Rihm was searching for
systemlessness in the 1980s. Chapter 4 is devoted to another extremely
important aspect of Rihm’s aesthetic: his relation to Fine Arts. Rihm was
able to allot new meanings to one of the most enigmatic elements in his
music: chapter 5 deals with Repetition. Could it be that the “coherent
systemless” finds its origin in nature itself? Chapter 6 explores how Nature
and Proportions can go hand in hand. Studying Proportions receives more
attention in chapter 7.
From chapter 8 on, the accent is more on analytical features. Since Rihm
designs each sound directly as a whole, an adequate analytical method
must be based on an Integrated Approach (chapter 8). Chapter 9 offers
considerations on different Parameter Characteristics: melody, harmony,
tempo, metre, rhythm, dynamics, articulation, timbre and texture.
In chapter 10 a series of results of the analysis of the String Quartets nos.
5-8 is discussed. The study ends with the analysis of several aspects of the
Chiffre cycle: why it is defined as a cycle rather than a series is commented
on in chapter 11 Group Formation. Chapters 12-16 are devoted to different
analytical aspects: harmony, resonance, cyclic elements, symmetry and
proportions.
Analysed Compositions
D ata follow Rihm’s official Catalogue by Universal Edition.1
Chiffre cycle
Chiffre I, 1982, 8’
piano and 7 instruments: cl & bcl, bn, tpt, trbn, vc1-2, db
Chiffre II, Silence to be Beaten, 1983, 14’
14 [or 15] players: fl & pic, ob & eng hn, cl Bb & cl Eb & bcl, bn & dbn,
hn, tpt & pic tpt, trbn, pf, 1 [or 2] perc, vn1-2, va, vc, db
Chiffre III, 1983, 10’
12 players: eng hn, bcl, bn & dbn, hn, btpt, trbn, pf, 2 perc, vc1-2, db
Chiffre IV, 1983-84, 9’
bcl, vc, pf
Bild (eine Chiffre), 1984, 9’
9 players: tpt & high tpt, hn, trbn, pf, 2 perc, va, vc, db
Chiffre V, 1984, 8’
orch: fl & picc, ob, cl & cl Eb, bn, hn, tpt, btpt, trbn, pf, 2 perc, vn1-2,
va, vc1-2, db
Chiffre VI, 1985, 6’
8 players in 2 quartets: bcl & cl Eb, dbn, hn, db and vn1-2, va, vc
Chiffre VII, 1985, 15’
orch: fl & pic, ob & eng hn, cl A, bn & dbn, hn, tpt, btpt, trbn, pf, 2
perc, vn1-2, va, vc1-2, db,
Chiffre VIII, 1985-88, 4’
8 players: bcl, dbn, hn, trbn, pf, vc1-2, db
Nach-Schrift, eine Chiffre, 1982/2004, 10’
ens: fl, ob, cl A & bcl, bn, hn, tpt, btpt, trbn, pf, 2 perc, vn1-2, va, vc1-2,
db
27
String Quartets
Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5, 1981-83
1 movement, 27’
String Quartet no. 6, Blaubuch, 1984
1 movement, 45’
String Quartet no. 7, Veränderungen, 1985
vn1-2 and va play deep woodblocks
1 movement, 17’
String Quartet no. 8, 1987-88
1 movement, 15’
PART I
Style
1
Between Classical and Individual
F rom a strictly technical point of view, one could argue that Wolfgang
Rihm is a “classical” composer. At the same time, he can be characterised
as an Einzelgänger, an individualist searching for his own path, independent
of current tendencies in the music of the 1980s or recent developments in
classical music in general. What is his particular position with regard to
these tendencies?
Individual Position
Rihm writes in classical genres, such as opera, orchestral and ensemble
work, string quartet. He proceeds in a classical way: writing the score note
by note, using pencil or ink. Only classical instruments are involved in his
pieces, mostly played in the traditional way: despite percussive effects,
extreme timbres and noise-like sounds, unconventional or avant-garde
sound production is highly exceptional. Like most composers, he applies
the results of avant-garde experiments and the search for new sounds, done
by Mauricio Kagel and Helmut Lachenmann for instance or by Luciano
Berio in his Sequenza series. Furthermore, he does not feel tempted to
integrate computers or other high technological devices. Rihm does not
have any feeling for the use of electronic and digital media, as is the case
with French composers. Early in the 1980s, Pierre Boulez started to work
with live electronics in Répons; the French group Spectralists made use of
computer analysis to develop complex harmonies. In 1985, Gérard Grisey
finished his great cycle Les espaces acoustiques, started 11 years before. It is
only by great exception that Rihm applies electronic sounds with a specific
aim: to emphasise the very low bass sounds of the instruments in Séraphin
(1994) and Etudes d’après Séraphin (1997) for instance.
31
32 Part I – Style
Another striking feature of Rihm’s music is the deliberate absence of any

influences of or references to non-classical musical genres, such as ethnic
music, jazz, pop and rock. Rihm dislikes all kinds of crossover. Collaboration
with pop musicians was a rather new phenomenon in the 1980s for
composers such as Philip Glass, who became a public figure: too “simple” for
Rihm. He does not mince his words when he argues that he is an enemy of
the incorporation of extra-European music, being “allergic” to musical
genres that can only be approached in the capacity of “a tourist, a dilettante”.
Although he makes a joke of the “tourists”, his underlying thought is very
serious when he wonders to what extent it is possible to have an understanding
of an unfamiliar musical culture. He proposes to consider it the other way
round: how is Western music, for instance, perceived by Asian people?
Anyway, to empathise with a non-Western musical culture remains
impossible for him. Rihm has no affinity either for other musical genres, or
for any experimental attitudes such as those that declare that everybody can
be an artist. When Joseph Beuys, just like John Cage, states that everyone is
an artist (Jeder ist Künstler), Rihm replies, fully aware of his very personal
viewpoint, that it is his conviction that Beuys’s phrase is a contraction,
meaning in fact that every artist is an artist (Jeder Künstler ist Künstler).1
Only later in his life does Rihm start to write religious music (except
some juvenile works). DEUS PASSUS was composed in 1999-2000 and
followed by Sieben Passions-Texte (2001-06), Vigilia (2006) and ET LUX
(2009). On the one hand, Rihm wrote these works for specific performers,
such as the Hilliard Ensemble, and for special occasions, such as the Bach
anniversary in 2000 with DEUS PASSUS for Helmuth Rilling and the
Stuttgart Bach Academy. On the other hand, it is not his aim to preach
religion, describing himself cryptically as “one who does not pray, but
speaks with God”. Quid est Deus? (2007) shows once more how for the
postmodernist thinker the question is more important than the series of
answers in the definitions of God. Rihm’s approach has nothing in common
with the religious and mystic aesthetic of East-European composers in the
1980s, such as the meditative archaism of Arvo Pärt or the pompous
large-scale oratoria by Krzysztof Penderecki. His Polish Requiem was
composed between 1980 and 1984. It is also not possible to find a link
between Rihm and Western approaches to religious music, such as Olivier
Messiaen with his opera Saint François d’Assise or Mauricio Kagel with his
1 – Between Classical and Individual 33
personal religious opinion in the oratorio Sankt-Bach-Passion. Karlheinz

Stockhausen had a distinguished personal idea of cosmic mysticism,
starting his seven days’ cycle Licht in the 1980s, preceded by Sirius. With a
completely different aesthetic, embedded in minimalism, Steve Reich
explored his Jewish roots for the first time in Tehillim in 1981. Subjectivity
in a more personal way marks György Ligeti’s turn into postmodernism: in
almost every work since his famous Trio for violin, horn and piano from
1982 he includes a Lamento, not as a religious, but rather as a universal
contemplation. However, his mechanical systematic composition technique
is still present in the Etudes for piano. None of these tendencies can be
found in Rihm’s music of the 1980s: no system oriented interest of course,
no religious or mystic content, no confession of private feelings, no
individual subjectivity but an open and therefore undefined expressivity.
The full truth is that nothing is exclusive for Rihm, nothing is excluded, for
instance it is still possible to allude to Ligeti’s meccanismo di precisione
without applying it in a systematic way, but as a verbal allusion in the Chiffre
cycle (see p. 75).
There are of course also common developments with other composers
of the 1980s. Rihm elects for a new kind of literature opera or Literaturoper,
meaning not that he works on a pre-existing text, but meaning that the
author involved has a very important role and that the literature the libretto
is based on can be manipulated, arranged and reworked into the adequate
or required operatic form. In that way, Rihm’s collaboration with Heiner
Müller for Die Hamletmaschine (1983-86) can be compared to the
collaboration of Luciano Berio and Italo Calvino for the azione musicale, an
opera with multiple viewpoints, with comments on its own subject: La vera
storia or Un re in ascolto (1982, 1985 respectively). Both composers consider
the text to be an essential musical aspect of their operas, therefore they
become librettist and text editor themselves. Another common aspect, with
Boulez for instance, is Rihm’s interest in the use of the space (see pp. 227,
232).
How Rihm was opposed to Neue Einfachheit or New Simplicity and
which composers had a certain influence on him will be explained in
chapter 2, Between Modernism and Postmodernism. The diversity of
influential composers can be surprising: Helmut Lachenmann, Morton
Feldman, Luigi Nono and Wilhelm Killmayer.
34 Part I – Style
Specific Terminology and Tools

As classical or conventional as Rihm’s compositional results – his scores –
may seem, in many cases the existing traditional terminology is
inappropriate to describe, explain or analyse his music. According to Ulrich
Mosch:
With categories such as theme, motif, variation, development or

division, not to mention traditional formal concepts, we are rather
helpless in front of compositions such as the Fifth and Sixth String
Quartet or Klangbeschreibungen.2
Indeed, it is also my opinion that neutral terminology is more appropriate

in confronting Rihm’s music. “Figure” and “melodic element” for example
are neutral while the term “motif ” implies a part of a greater unit and
“theme” implies a certain weight or importance in the whole of the
composition. I define “figure” as a brief, striking musical element or a
musical element with one or a few striking characteristics; “brief ” means as
long as a few beats or bars. “Neutral” is not synonymous for “general” or
“generalised”; rather, it means “neutralised” towards the historical
connotation of the specific term in question. This is more than a question
of terminology. Mosch’s utterance includes that existing analytical methods
are not appropriate.3
Of course, Rihm’s own terminology – if well-defined in a non-
metaphoric way – is also very useful, including his predilection for
neologisms, such as generative Pol (generative pole). In certain cases Rihm’s
own terminology will require some adaptation or refinement in order to
become useful for my approach. For instance, when Rihm introduces
Übermalung (overpainting), he does so in a metaphorical way, while I
prefer to replace metaphors with neutral musical terms, which in this case
are “overwriting”, “rewriting” and “added writing”. In fact, in most cases,
“overpainting” refers to the addition of an element, Zumalung in German
rather than Übermalung; sometimes it also means the replacement of an
element by a new one.
Generative Pole and Generated Elements

Comparable to Boulez’s openness to multiple possibilities and versions of
the same composition, one of the general postmodern artistic concepts is
defined as the search for pluralism in the elaboration of the same basic
material.4 As stated before, Rihm describes a composition as an attempt, as
a process of searching for the artwork. In this way, each composition
becomes a chain link, whether it is part of a cycle or not. Any material that
is not “exhausted” after first use is available to be worked out again.
Since the beginning of the 1980s Rihm has defined the original material
as “generative pole” (generative Pol). As a consequence, the resulting
elaboration can be described as “generated elements”. The fact that Rihm
did not stop applying, repeating and explaining this concept until the 2010s
stresses the importance of it. Commenting on Gebild, composed in 1982,
he wrote: “It is just like a generative pole; the actual sound – at this precise
moment the music ‘grows’. One can hear the growth direction.”5 In the same
year, the entire composition Chiffre I is supposed to possess the necessary
qualities to function as a generative pole: “[t]his short piece could be the
generative pole for a larger one: a growth wedge, attracting more and more
music.”6 On the one hand Rihm alludes to the whole Chiffre cycle, on the
other hand Chiffre I will be the subject of overwriting. Nach-Schrift, the
piece that closes the Chiffre cycle in 2004, is an exact copy of Chiffre I,
except for a few bars, with added instruments and few new passages
inserted (see p. 236). In 1988 Rihm discussed the concept of generative
pole with the philosopher Peter Sloterdijk; he described the composer as “a
kind of gardener, a searcher for growth”.7 The same definition is repeated in
the context of Dunkles Spiel (1988-90).8
A generative pole is a clearly defined composed musical element that
will reappear exactly and/or slightly changed, less or more varied, or even
totally metamorphosed in a new context; in one word: elaborated. The act
of generating elements includes classical and modernist operations, such as
Fortspinnung, variation, mutation, extension, expansion, augmentation,
addition, insertion, omission, texture change, permutation, mirroring,
inversion, retrograde, while the historically loaded concept of “development”
is avoided. The new context of the generated elements can be situated in the
composition of the original generative pole itself or in a later one. Rihm
defines both possibilities at the same moment: for Gebild, he restricts the
36 Part I – Style
effect of the generative pole to the composition itself; for Chiffre I the effect
of the whole work as a generative pole lies in other compositions. When the
generative pole is of a rather restricted duration, it is marked by strong
characteristics in different parameters. It also plays a distinctive role during
a (section of a) composition. Therefore, the generative pole – together with
its generated elements – has a unifying and structural function. In a broader
context, Rihm considers all individual pieces (Einzelsetzungen) as “poles”,
radiating energy. Without mentioning the term “generative pole” as such,
the concept of dynamic growth energy, comparable to processes in nature,
and of “germ pieces” functioning as “genetic material” for other
compositions, is continuously recalled in interviews until the 2010s.9
Rihm does not reserve the concept of the generative pole with growth
potential exclusively for his own music: in his essay Musikalische Freiheit,
dated 1983, when the term was introduced, it is also found in his description
of Busoni’s characteristics. Comparing Schubert to Beethoven, Rihm
assigns to the latter the use of teleological processes, while the first “does
not write poled music, based on development-logic”.10 In this utterance, the
logical development of elements is considered as “poled music” or music
attracted by a pole.
Generative Pole versus Rewriting and Overwriting

When a longer passage or the whole of a composition is used as generative
pole, it seems more appropriate to call the generating process “overwriting”
or “rewriting”. With this understanding, the compositions Chiffre I and
Nach-Schrift, subtitled eine Chiffre, were described in the previous
paragraph. The same technique is applied to “CONCERTO” for string
quartet and orchestra (2000), where the part of the string quartet mainly
consists of material borrowed from the Sixth String Quartet, Blaubuch,
although in a changed order; for instance, at the very end of the
“CONCERTO”, the passage Zögernd und stockend appears (found in
Blaubuch in bar 182), ending pianissimo on the consonant triad d-f-a.11
Another example is Interscriptum, Duo für Klavier und Streichquartett
(2000/02): to the score of the Twelfth String Quartet (2000-01), a piano part
is added. The added writing in the piano comments on the string quartet in
different ways: doubling, imitating or transforming gestures and constel
lations, adding contrapuntal elements, enlarging string passages, continuing

phrases by sounds within rests, functioning as resonator.12
A typology of rewriting and overwriting consists of the following
elements: (1) a copy of a whole fragment, all instruments: overwriting by
the addition of new material, adding new instruments is not ruled out;
(2) a partial copy of a fragment means that only one or some instruments
are copied exactly and that the overwriting happens by the addition of new
material, adding new instruments is not ruled out; (3) a varied copy of a
fragment: rewriting by changing one or more parameters (such as tempo,
dynamics, texture, instrumentation); (4) a copy of a process: rewriting by
the use of other material, eventually also other instruments, with far-
reaching changes in any parameter or any combination of parameters;
(5) a copy of a concept: rewriting resulting in a quasi-complete meta-
morphosis.
Fragmentation
In his rich vocabulary, Rihm describes “fragmentation” as an aesthetic target
in many ways, such as that the “fragment” is “broken” and “split”, it is the
“block”, the “chunk”, it is linked with the “unfinished” and involves the
“sudden”, the “surprise”. These terms frequently appear in his work descrip
tions and comments. For Rihm, fragmentation is much more than the divis
ion of a score into different contrasting units: it designs the lack of connected
ness because fragments are put next to each other without any relationship
between them. By sudden appearances and disappearances or cuts
fragmentation further designs the absence of a clear beginning and ending.
The term Fragment is applied to different compositional levels from the
1970s on: (1) in a note at the end of the score of the Second String Quartet
(1970): “Fragment für Andrea”, (2) as the composition title: Hölderlin-
Fragmente (1976-77); Lenz-Fragmente (1980), (3) as a subtitle for a
composition: Umhergetrieben, aufgewirbelt. Nietzsche-Fragmente (1981);
Schwarzer und roter Tanz, Fragment aus Tutuguri (1982/83); Bildnis:
Anakreon. Gedichte und Fragmente (2004), SKOTEINÓS, Heraklit-Fragmente
(2008); Kolonos. Zwei Fragmente von Hölderlin nach Sophokles (2008). More
applications are found in Rihm’s texts: (4) in his comments on compositions:
Alexanderlieder (1975-76), “… fragmentary song accompaniment…”; cuts
38 Part I – Style
and dissolves for orchestra (1976-77): “… fragmentary character, in form

and sound…”; Vorgefühle for orchestra (1984): “Searching for the density of
fragmentary temporalities: findings. The fragment can never become an
aim.” (5) In his description of the work process of Klavierstück Nr. 6,
Bagatellen (1977-78): “I started to write down fragments” and “the self-
direction of the fragments”.13 (6) In vocal music, fragmentation is not only a
compositional tool for the music, it is also a way of treating a text or poem.
However, in questioning his own aesthetic on the occasion of Frau/
Stimme (1989) and in his attempt to fragment a poem by Heiner Müller,
Rihm asks himself: “Why still fragmenting? The coherence is the true
chunk.”14 This question can be related to his realisation – almost as a
concession – that composing without coherence is impossible. Later on, in
the 1990s, when it is Rihm’s intention to regain “flow” and “flux” in his
music, one could say that these terms claim the opposite of his ideal of the
previous decennium: the “non-flow”, the “non-flux” in music, though it was
never verbalised in this way by the composer.
Considering the dates in the list above, extending to 2008, it is clear that
the concept of fragmentation has never disappeared. Moreover, synonyms
for “fragment” have come into use. To provide only an example: Fetzen is
the title of a series of short pieces for string quartet and accordion,
composed in 1999-2004. Fetzen has a lot of meanings in German: Rihm
understands the word as “scraps. That means parts, tears, particles,
something frayed, incomplete (be it unfinished, be it fragmented).”15
Contrary to what one might expect, the fact remains that the terms
“fragment”, “fragmenting” and “fragmentation” remain unmentioned in
Rihm’s most important essays on aesthetic, such as Ins eigene Fleisch…, Der
geschockte Komponist, Musikalische Freiheit and Spur, Faden. Zur Theorie
des musikalischen Handwerks (1978, 1978, 1983, 1985, respectively). On the
other hand, Bruchstücke zum Komponieren or Chunks, Fragments on
composing is the title of a section of ausgesprochen containing essays written
between 1979 and 1991.16
Disturbance
“Disturbance” or Verstörung is already in the 1970s an important issue in
Rihm’s music. The sudden break, interruption or cut of a musical flow
cannot just lead to fragmentation, but can also be aimed at for aesthetic
reasons. Disturbance in the sense of “interruption” is the main compositional
tool in Klavierstück Nr. 7 (1980) where the continuously repeated dotted
rhythm (semiquaver followed by dotted quaver) is disturbed more and
more during the evolution of the piece, until the complete dissolution
(Ex. 1). Quite the opposite, disturbance can appear as a single event, for
instance when the one and only abrupt fortissimo unison breaks up the
sustained fragile pianissimo in Ländler (1979, version for piano and for
13 strings).
b œ ™ n œ.
^
? 44 R #œ R J R &bbnnœœœœ ™™™™ œœœœ œœœœ œœœœ ™™™™ œœœœ œœœœ ≈ ≈bbnnœœœœ ™™™™ œœœœ œœœœ œœœœ ™™™™ œœœœ œœœœ ≈ ‰bbnnœœœœ ™™™™ œœœœ œœœœ œœœœ ™™™™ œœœœ œœœœ
n œ^. ™ nœ^. > ^^> ^^ > ^^> ^^ > ^^> ^^
J
? 44 nœr j r bœ ™ nœ bœœ ™™ œœ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ≈ ≈ bœœ ™™ œœ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ

sfffz ppp sfffz ppp sfffz fff fff sempre
^.
n œ bœ ™ nœ b ™ ™ ≈ ‰ bbœœœ ™™™ œœœ œœœ œœœ ™™™ œœœ œœœ
n œ. ## œœ ™™ n œ J R n b >œœ ™ œœv œœv >œœ ™ œœv œœv nbb œœ ™™ œœ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ n bœ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ
> vv> vv > vv> vv
v v.
> ™ ^ ^ ^. ^. ^.
nnnœœœ ™™™™ œœœ^ œœœ^nnn#œœœœ ™™™ œœœœ œœœœ bbnœœœ œœœ œœœ ≈ ≈bbnœœœ^ œœœ œœœ ™™ bbnœœœ^ œœœ^ œœœ^ œœœ œœœ œœœ^ œœœ^ œœœ
> ^> > > œœ œœ^ œœ^ >œœ œœ œœ^ œœ^ >œœ ™
Schneller!
œœ œœ œœ œœ ™
175
& nœ œ œ nœ œ œ nœ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œœ œœ œœ
™™ ™™
3 3
?
n œ ™ œ œ n œ ™ œ œ b b œœ œœ œœ b b œœ œœ œœ
≈≈
3 3
b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
n>œ ™ œv œv n œ ™ œ œ nb œœ. œœ. œœ. nb œœ œœ œœ bnb œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ œœœ
>v vvv v. v. > v. v. > > > v v > v v > v v >
b nœœ œœ^ œœ œœ^ œœ^ œœ œœ^ œœ^ œœ œœ^ œœ^ œœ ™™ œœ^ bbnœœœ ™™™™ œœœ^ œœœ ™™™™ œœœ^ œœœ ™™™™ œœœ^ œœœ ™™™™ œœœ^ œœœ ™™™™ œœœ^ œœœ ™™™™ œœœ^ œœœ ™™™™ œœœ^ œœœ ™™™™ œœœ^
> > > > > > > > > > > >
& bnœœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ ™™ œœ
177
nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
?
œœ œœ ™™ œœ b b œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ
bnb œœœœ œœ œœ ™™ œœ nb œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ™™ œœ
œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ
b œ œœ œœ œœ œ œ œœ œœ œœ
>œ v v v >œ œv v > v v > v > v> v> v> v> v> v> v> v
bbnœœœ ™™™™ œœœ œœ ™™™
^. ^œ. >œ ™ œ^. œ- œ^. nœ^. >œ ™ œ^ œ^ œ^
œœ œœ ™™™ œœ œœ œœ nn œœ œœ ™™™ œœ œœ œœ
> ^. œœ^ >œ œœ
œœ ™
179
œœ œœ œœ
& nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ
pp sfffz fff 3
?
bnb œœœ ™™™ œœ ™™ œœ ™™ œœ n œ œ ™
3
œœ ™™ œ™
œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œœ œ œ œ
b >œ ™ œœ œœ
>œ
œ œœ œœ
>œ ™
œœ
-œ
œ œœ n œ œ ™ œv vœ œv
v. v v. v. v. v. v. v
Ex. 1. Klavierstück Nr. 7, 173-179. Disturbance of the dotted rhythm.
40 Part I – Style
Single Event
In his search for utopian systemlessness, Rihm is permanently looking for
tools capable of suppressing coherence and continuity as much as possible,
such as fragmentation and disturbance. Another possibility is the com
position of a musical piece using non-recurrent events as much as possible:
“single events” or “unique events” (Einzelereignisse). A single event is
marked by a unique combination of characteristics; consequently, a series
of single events is marked by a prevalence of non-common characteristics,
by contrasting elements and qualities in a rhapsodic or through-composed
order.17
In his essay Musikalische Freiheit Rihm combines the concept of single
events with the freedom he claims as an artist: “I believe that the freedom of
the artistic work is most clearly manifested in the setting of single events.”18
In the Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus, he insists on the absence of causal
relations or ordering principles in a series of single events, and on the “free
procreation of an imaginative space” (freie Fortzeugung eines Imaginations
raumes). Consequently, Rihm’s textual descriptions of the individual pieces
of the Chiffre cycle are conceived as a series of single events: not well-built,
rounded phrases, but single words, isolated characteristics, put next to each
other without any connection between them.19
Focal Pitch and Focal Pitch Aggregate

In his essay Neo-Tonalität? Wolfgang Rihm comes to the conclusion that a
Grundton (ground tone) is omnipresent, even when not intended:
It is striking though how, without any preplanning, in every com

position a ground tone is emphasised. That needn’t be a single tone; it
can be an endless polyphone sound, a toneless gesture, a noise, a shade,
an omitted sound, the gradation of two sounds, a relation...20
Because the omnipresence of a Grundton does not automatically include

references to classical tonality, I think it necessary to find a more appropriate
term, less strongly related to classical tonality. Neither the terms “ground
tone” or “ground note”, nor “central tone” or Zentralton and Tonzentrum in
German are free of a historical connotation. More neutralised and more

appropriate for Rihm’s intention is the German term Zielton, which could
be translated as “focus pitch”.21 Anyway, it is my conviction that all these
terms express too much the idea that a certain pitch is aimed at, that other
pitches are used in function of this only main pitch, that teleology is
involved. Reason enough to look for a term as neutral as possible. Therefore,
I propose “focal pitch”, defined as follows: a “focal pitch” is placed in the
focus in a passage, prominently present, without being aimed or focused at,
without any reference or remembrance of functionality in the sense of
classical tonality. A focal pitch is not functional: it is present by its simple
setting in the score, appearing without any preparation, disappearing after
a shorter or longer time. There is no attraction towards the focal pitch.
Nevertheless, by its even unintentional presence, the focal pitch obtains a
structural function. This is not in contradiction with the non-functional
characteristic: it is a consequence of Rihm’s ascertainment that the focal
pitch is “automatically” or “unintentionally” emerging.
Different focal pitches can follow each other in a slower or faster rhythm.
The faster rhythm is more or less comparable to the harmonic rhythm in
classical tonality. However, it is my impression that in many cases the focal
pitch functions as such over a longer period of a small number of or more
successive phrases. A “focal pitch” can be strong(er) or weak(er) in its
presence. It can shift from strong to weak and vice versa. It can be in the
foreground, it can appear and disappear, not being present all the time. It
can even only be present by resonance. Although Rihm claims that there is
always a Grundton, passages without (clear) focal pitch cannot be excluded.
A composition is characterised by a series of focal pitches, resulting in
moments of strong, weak and absent focal pitch. The most prominent focal
pitches create the focal pitch aggregate of a composition. For instance, in
the analysis of the String Quartets nos. 5, 6 and 7, the question will be raised
whether the common opening pitch f# also functions as a focal pitch or not
(see p. 187). For the Chiffre cycle, the question will be raised whether the
focal pitch aggregates of different pieces have elements in common or not
or, in other words, whether or not focal pitches are partaking in a cyclic
concept (see p. 225).
42 Part I – Style
Process and Planning

Rihm’s repeated assertion that he composes without any preparation or
preplanning became generally accepted as typical of his style: “[s]o, I don’t
make a plan that is realised afterwards, but I plan something while I am
doing it, at the same time.”22 This concept was articulated more in detail in
a kind of self-interrogation on the occasion of Chiffre VI:
And then, while writing it down:

Do I know this? Don’t I know this?
What is it? What will be next,
Without preplanning
And without studying the course –
To sit entirely free in front of the paper
And not knowing what will come;
And always with full responsibility
For precisely this tone,
Which could follow eventually as the next one,
Which you have to be waiting for –
For a longer or a shorter time;
So short often, that you can’t grasp it any more,
That you can’t keep it captured while writing.23
It is clear that this procedure may not be identified with a kind of écriture
automatique, because the author takes full responsibility for each note he
composes. In fact, Rihm did not succeed in his intentions: neither being
“entirely free in front of the paper”, nor composing “without studying the
course”. Even if the genesis of a structure goes hand in hand with the
composing act, this procedure does not exclude the existence or awareness
of a concept in someone’s head, before the composition is realised:
“[b]efore a piece arises, its aura arises, its atmosphere.”24 It seems logical to
me that this “aura” consists of musical ideas; therefore, it is not unthinkable
that these ideas could be intended for certain sections of a score or to be
presented one by one in the opening bars of a score.
In the questions “Do I know this?” and “What will be next?” one could
presume a certain tendency to relate the next to the past or the known,
therefore the question could be nuanced by asking what could be next after
what has already been composed. This nuance provokes a possible relation
of the upcoming with the already written, a possible coherence or contrast
as opposed to the previous. In a conversation with Rihm, Christoph von

Blumröder explains how he tried to analyse Antlitz. Zeichnung für Violine
und Klavier, composed in 1992-93. He is of the opinion that the work is
based on the development of a germ or nucleus and that it is conceived in a
teleological way. Rihm answers that this composition belongs to a typical
concept where the genesis, the finding step by step are still audible in the
result. In order to develop each step, he was looking back: “[b]ut for Antlitz
I was looking very closely, looking backwards again and then I have
continued again.”25 Looking back, as a very common principle in
composition, creates coherence possibilities. And looking back is in fact
necessary only when the memory of the already composed fails. In other
words, looking back is an exteriorisation of structuring while composing
and working without sketches. In this way, the composition indeed creates
its own structure during its genesis, its own coherence.
Form
While the genesis of the composition coincides with the compositional
process, the form and the building components are defined in a particular
way. Needless to say, Rihm makes no use of existing classical forms:
The form is not measured against a pre-existing form-ideal, but newly

developed for each piece, self-creating, self-fulfilling in the moment of
the composition.26
Every composition creates a form sui generis, not depending on a form

codex. More precisely, by form “result form” is meant: only when the com
position is completed, does the overall form become a fact. Rihm is expecting
the same creativity from the listener, who has to discover his own form.
Rihm is aware of the fact that well-known formal problems are not
eliminated by this personal concept of form:
Hence, the form of music is the most problematic,

(1) because it is never possible to be experienced as a whole (only in
the synopsis (!) of the memory, utopianly);
(2) because music always has a form, even when the composer does
not consciously compose it.27
44 Part I – Style
The second point in the quotation above recalls Rihm’s acceptance of the
impossibility of creating music without the slightest coherence. For the first
point, he finds a solution in the through-composed form, where the
consecutive building blocks or formal elements, his typical “fragments”, are
put next to each other. Rihm defines these formal elements, from the
smallest to the largest, as “figures” on condition of delineating a “unity” or
“entity”. A figure or Gestalt is limited in time and limited when it comes to
the number of elements and events it contains, and therefore graspable and
comprehensible.28 Rihm’s solution for the impossibility of experiencing the
form as a whole lies in the shift from the whole to the partial, the block, the
figure. This viewpoint allows the composer to neglect the overall or total
form of a composition and to concentrate only on the “moment form” or
the “unity form”. The “moment form” can be defined as the form of what is
heard at a certain moment in a composition; the “unity form” can be
defined by the perception of the experienced listener, replacing the
composer in the act of listening to a composition. A returning statement by
Rihm in the early 1980s:
To hear the music without the crazy notion that its logic is binding.
Pure music, self-motion, just sound, just rhythm, mood and expression.
Free and without ground and sediment, without a false bottom. –
The double abyss.29
This statement is certainly influenced by Stockhausen’s Momente, which

treats both the concentration in the individual moment and the undefined
order in the “open form”, while the order of the composed “moments” must
be redefined for each performance. This is about the free setting of moments
and about their “unconnectedness” (das Unverbundene).30 Rihm admires
the complete absence of logic here and adapts it in what will become the
sequence of single events in his own structure building during the
compositional process. He prizes Stockhausen’s combination of legality or
lawfulness and breaking his own laws, illegality or lawlessness as illustrated
by the use of “insertions” (Einschübe, Eingeschobene). As defined as the
form may be, if at a certain moment Stockhausen feels the need, he inserts
certain “independent moments” (selbständige Momente), breaking through
the previously discursive, reasoned form. In that way, just like Rihm, he
stresses the importance of the present moment in the music, giving it
absolute priority: “[u]nity and coherence result less from external

similarities than from immanent, possibly unbroken concentration on the
present.”31
Relationship between Form and Structure

This concentration on the actual moment in the music leads to a surprisingly
positive approach to the phenomenon of “forgetting” in listening to music.
Whereas the role of memory in the perception of (classical) music is
considered crucial, remembering a theme is absolutely necessary to
understanding the structural level: the ability to define the second hearing
of a theme as return, varied, extended, etc. Rihm succeeds in the abolition
of the primordial role accorded to memory. Forgetting a previous section
or forgetting the previous by concentration on the present is an essential
part of his aesthetic. In a broader perspective, one could even say that he
himself forgets on purpose. Unidentifiable sketches are the first case of this
deliberate forgetting. Rihm describes the function of his sketches as
“memo”, only used in order to hold an idea in his mind, not to forget what
is to be elaborated next, or in order to write down some possibilities a
musical element is offering.32 As Rihm does not plan a composition in
advance, there are no overall sketches, no sketches of the different stages of
the pre-compositional genesis of a composition, nor any sketches of the
work in process.33 Rihm’s sketches are mostly brief, concise elements: some
pitches, a few chords, a rhythm, a setting, some words and, exceptionally, a
short series of numbers. Where indicated by Rihm or by scholars who
studied the material, the composition for which the sketches were intended,
can be defined unequivocally. Next to the sketch folios catalogued per
composition there are also sketchbooks covering several years, with
sketches for precise compositions and unidentifiable materials.34
As Rihm regards sketches as temporary memos, asking him for more
information about the content, function, meaning or aim of a particular
sketch leads to nothing more than a poor result. To give two examples: in
his study of Rihm’s string quartets, Joachim Brügge frequently has to state
that Rihm, when questioned about specific sketches, did not remember
their function or aim or could not match a sketch to a composition, or
thought that a suggestion made by Brügge was probably so, or simply
46 Part I – Style
answered that he was not able to give more information.35 The same goes
for Jagden und Formen: the complex network on the origin, the pre-scores
and the intertwining and “overpainting” of pre-existing fragments – in one
word, the intertextuality of Jagden und Formen – is indeed forgotten by the
composer. The evolution of the process can no longer be disentangled by
Rihm himself (“no longer be deciphered” could be a Rihm-like translation
of “nicht mehr entwirrbar”) and truthful forgetting is incorporated. Rihm
compares it with different clouds in the sky, touching each other or layering
one above the other: he is not able to reconstruct where and how it
happened.36 These examples make clear that once a composition is finished,
Rihm is no longer interested in memorising his work process; he seems
indeed capable of forgetting the genesis of a work.
As a consequence of the quotation above “…because music always has a
form, even when the composer does not consciously compose form”, Rihm
can in turn consider “structure” as a background phenomenon: “[w]hile
everything is structured, structure itself is not a foreground, but a
background concept.”37 Again, this implies that all attention will be given to
the concise and actual moment, to the “phrase” in the first place, and to the
larger unity of the “section” of which a phrase is part. Rihm’s predilection
for fragmentation can now also be understood as the logical consequence
of his concept of form: fragments are broken comprehensible units,
independent of structural relations or coherence.
Rihm allots a new function, not only to form, but also to structure; in
his words:
What is meant by structure in music cannot be something that already

exists before the music and upon which music is then poured like a
sauce, so that the structure is depicted in it.38
Only at one place in Rihm’s sketchbooks of the 1980s did I find a description
of the building of a (part of a) composition, without identification of the
piece itself.39 Rihm’s handwriting is schematically transcribed below in
Ex. 2.
Holz à Fell à Holz + Fell

A Evolution 23 Takte ff pp perc (Holz + Fell)
accel.
Takt 23 rit.
B Stops perc weiter p

Takte 7 fermata 2½ fermata 1½ fermata 3½ fermata à 2 T. Über langsamer kahl
C Block 12½ Takte höchste Dichte

Metal-perc
Schnitt
kahl
D ’Punkte’
Viele Pausen
12½ Takte: Anfang Tt. Struktur
Ex. 2. Skizzenbuch 1986-1987, p. 67.
Whether or not this sketch has been worked out and without the urge to
identify the composition it could have been aimed at, I consider it to be a
sketch of the memo type. What is important to me is the data collection
offered by this sketch, referring as it does not only to form and structure,
but also to proportions. There is a clear division into four parts, labelled A
to D. The length of each part is defined by a precise number of bars, except
for section D; parts A to C are quite different in length. The further division
of part B into shorter units also results in fragments with big differences in
length. The description of the characteristics for each part covers different
musical fields: instrumentation, dynamics, tempo, density and silence.
Rihm makes use of metaphoric adjectives, such as kahl.
There are common and contrasting characteristics. Common
characteristics relate parts to others. For instance: parts A and C use
percussion, but with different timbres. Part B also uses percussion: the
indication perc weiter can be understood as a continuation of the same
timbres as in part A. By contrasting characteristics, each part is sketched as
a single event. The major characteristics are given by the first word of the
description of each part. Section A: “evolution” in the timbres of the
percussion. Section B: “stops” or a passage broken by fermatas, contrasting
48 Part I – Style
with the “evolution” of part A. Section C: “block” and “highest density”,

contrasting with the “stops” of part B. Section D: Punkte (“points”) with
many silences, sparseness contrasting with the density of part C.
Each part is marked by a clear start and ending. A part can have a clear
start on its own or by contrast with the ending of the foregoing part. To give
some examples: decelerating at the end of part A; transition to “bald”
(kahl) at the end of part B; contrast between dense and isolated sounds
and silences in the transition from part C to D. This way of working
with contrasts provokes fragmentation, and loose coherence, towards
systemlessness.
Each part can indeed be described as a “single event”. On the other
hand, parts can be related by corresponding characteristics: parts B and D
are interrupted or broken, although by different means (fermata, rest,
respectively); parts A and C can be described as “continuous”, again by
different means (evolution, dense block, respectively).
This (part of a) composition is through-composed; it could be a
composition in one movement. The length of the parts is 23 bars for A, 16½
bars for B and 12½ for C. With one minor change, the addition of the two
half bars to part A, the length becomes 24 bars for A, 16 for B and 12 for C.
The ratio 24:16:12 shows simple proportions, A:C = 2:1, A:B = 3:2, B:C =
4:3, A:B:C = 6:4:3. By moving two half bars from part A to parts B and C,
the exact proportion is lost or approximated or “hidden”. Part B is
subdivided into four short periods, four and not five because of the crossed
out fermata 7-2½-(1½ + 3½)-2. Again, with a minor change, taking the half
bar of 2½ as moved to part A, the series becomes 7-2-5-2. Three members
of this ratio are the same as in the proportion 5:7:2:9, which Rihm applied
to Dis-Kontur (1974/84). All these characteristics seem to be reason enough
to study proportion in depth (see p. 131ff.)
Conclusion of the Composition

The ultimate section of a composition, its last phrases or bars, almost always
contains unpredictable and unforeseeable characteristics. Consequently,
the ending of a composition is never the confirmation of one of the main
elements of the music previously heard. Quite the contrary, Rihm prefers to
insert an unexpected turn at the end, assigning different functions to it.
Like no other art, I believe that music has the ability to change
everything that was before through the moment of its ending, that
functions as a colon or a contrasting statement or even a postscript,
interfering in its own course, because of the turn around and the
looking back at itself at the end.40
In an interview in 1991, the question about the peculiarity of the endings

was asked in relation to the string quartets of the 1980s, the Chiffre and
Tutuguri cycles. The question suggested that a composition ends with
“a continua, an idea that is started without having reached its end”.
That the end offers an outlook is very important to me. Only music as
a time-based art has the ability to change its gaze, so to speak, at the
end, to face the listener suddenly with a question, or at least with a
completely different aspect that was not there before. That can only
happen in the time-art music. With the ultimate event, everything that
happened before can be dyed completely new.41
In one word: a colon. Rihm comments on Über die Linie VIII (2012-15, for
orchestra) that it ends with a colon. The series Über die Linie, begun in
1999, has not yet reached its end.42
The way Rihm defines the ending of a composition as opposite to the
piece itself gives the traditional term “coda” a new meaning. The coda is not
only the confirmation or conclusion of a piece, it has also the content of
epilogue, question mark, denial of the previous and therefore also even
prediction, anticipation or teaser towards the next piece, the last certainly
within a cycle, such as the Chiffre cycle. On the other hand, Rihm’s stubborn
turn at the end of a composition is not so unique and surely not exclusive
to music as he assumes here. In many other art forms, such as literature,
film, theatre and opera, an open ending is part of the common artistic
possibilities, having similar qualities to ideas such as “not confirmation” or
“inviting to a sequel”.
Rihm’s musical example of this unexpected turn could be his teacher
Stockhausen, who once said during a course: “In each work there must be
something that is totally the Other.”43 Rihm adds that it is his personal
paraphrase of Stockhausen’s statement, but that it stayed in his memory
until the moment he himself was able to adapt it. In my opinion, such a turn
has no fixed place and consequently it can occur at the end of a composition.
2
Between Modernism and
Postmodernism
B y the end of the 1970s the young Wolfgang Rihm and his contemporaries
Hans-Jürgen von Bose, Detlev Müller-Siemens, Wolfgang von
Schweinitz and Manfred Trojahn had made their initial impacts. Especially
in Darmstadt all the attention of the music experts was focused on the
expressivity of the youngsters, on the way they dared to emphasise melody,
consonance and classical tonality: aspects which were anti-(post)-serialism.
Variations on Schubertian themes and allusions to Schubert and Beethoven
in their compositions were enough to label them as conservative and their
rejection of absolute modernism as reactionary. They were stigmatised as a
neo-romantic and conservative group, adhering to New Simplicity and
New Subjectivity. As a consequence, not enough attention was paid to the
peculiarities of each composer. At this stage, von Bose, Müller-Siemens and
von Schweinitz were much more focused on exact quotations than Rihm,
linked more with clearly perceivable allusions to music from the past,
allusions to different styles in one and the same composition. Rihm seems
always to have “digested” the model from the past in order to be able to
adapt it for his music in a very personal way. His music is more an answer
to the question what struck him in an existing composition or in a
composer’s style. Von Bose’s incentive was based on Sehnsucht, the nostalgic
longing for an ideal of beauty from the past, the restoration of what was lost
by “pitiless” modernism. He was complaining about the “loneliness of the
composer”. Wolfgang Rihm had a different aesthetic view from the
beginning: he was free to express himself, free to choose the most
appropriated way or style for each composition, not excluding the music of
the past, but oriented towards the future, the non-compelling new. As a
consequence, Rihm was less melodic than the “group”, more apt to combine
modern and postmodern aspects. This attitude opened the way for his
51
52 Part I – Style
personal search in the 1980s, when he explored possibilities of the denial of

composition systems in his unsystematische Musik.1
Position towards Postmodernism

It is not surprising that Rihm has always contested the epithet of Neue
Einfachheit.2 He did it rightly: only a few exceptional compositions, such as
Ländler or different series of waltzes, are apparently simple but at least
deliberately ambiguous. Certain aspects of Rihm’s style of the 1980s can be
identified with postmodern thought, although Rihm himself never made
use of the term “postmodernism” as a self-definition, even though he was
clearly dealing with the postmodern Zeitgeist or “spirit of the age”.
The rise of Wolfgang Rihm from the mid-1970s on coincides with the
deep discussions caused by the emerging postmodernism and the failed
abolition of modernism. During the 1980s fierce debates on postmodernism
were held in Germany.3 Next to the disagreement as to the exact meaning
of the term, the main polemical issues in the field of music were the different
understanding of postmodernism in the United States compared to Europe;
the enlargement of the musical field with other genres and its consequences
towards so called “populism”, together with bridging the gap between art
music and popular music, defined respectively as higher and lower in the
cultural hierarchy; postmodernism, viewed as a continuation of modernism
or its opposite, as a break with modernism and therefore as anti-modernism;
postmodernism as the period after modernism, more precisely after
modernism has come to an end; hence postmodernism reintroducing
tradition, reconfirming the use of melody, tonality and modality, traditional
genres such as symphony, string quartet; postmodernism being anti-avant-
garde, putting an end to the concentration on the musical material, the
material exploration and innovation; the modernist composer with his
political, social, human engagement and his critical attitude was contrasted
with the postmodern composer, not engaged in politics, but rather directed
towards freedom, subjectivity, expressiveness and the rehabilitation of
aesthetic pleasure and hedonism; postmodernism was either introduced by
the turn of the older generation of Kagel, Schnebel, Stockhausen, Zender,
Ligeti, Berio, Nono, Goeyvaerts, Pousseur, Schnittke – certain sources even
add the name of Bernd Alois Zimmermann, who died in 1970 – or
2 – Between Modernism and Postmodernism 53
postmodernism was the merit of the younger German generation born

around 1950 with Hans-Jürgen von Bose and Wolfgang Rihm, next to the
others mentioned above; a third possibility: postmodernism was introduced
by both.
Nowadays, with a certain distance in time, the discussion has changed:
postmodernism is more often approached as a container concept, where
the understanding of the different postmodern phenomena by resemblance
and common characteristics is more interesting than looking for a common
feature uniting all postmodern music. From the beginning, the container
concept in postmodernism was inclusive due to the characteristic of
pluralism, which is another container term. Pluralism in music and other
fields can be understood as “anything from the past” being at the artist’s
disposal. The postmodern practice of combining freely what is at one’s
disposal enables its original and creative possibilities. Sometimes this
practice is described as unique and new, while other scholars deny the
novelty of it, referring to the neo-styles of the first half of the century. In any
case, there is a much higher degree of difference in the amount and (the
speed of) alternation in postmodern applications of all that is at one’s
disposal, compared to the way this happened in the neo-styles before 1950.
Moreover, for the postmodern artist, modernism also belongs to the past
and is therefore available as a creative tool. In this way, postmodernism, as
it makes use of modernism, can be considered as a continuation of
modernism instead of a reaction to, break from or negation of it.
In the 1980s, the debate among German scholars was taken to extremes
by Hermann Danuser as a defender of the new aesthetic view and by Helga
de la Motte-Haber as an opponent. Danuser originally approached
postmodernism as a “counter-current against modern music”, but later on
he developed a relational notion of postmodernism, more as a continuation
of modernism. He insisted on the issue of fundamental pluralism as a
reason for the importance of tradition in postmodernism. At last,
postmodernism was recognised as the “modernism of today” while the
relation between both was changing towards 1990. For Motte-Haber the
postmodernist situation is a much simpler matter: examining the whole of
the twentieth century, she finds similar relations to the past in the younger
German generation and in early twentieth century composers, such as Max
Reger. She states that the “restoration” against modernism was already a
54 Part I – Style
fact early in the twentieth century: nothing new is happening with the so-
called young German postmodernists. She does not understand what Rihm
may have added to the debate with his lecture Der geschockte Komponist
when the older generation had already realised its turn prior to Rihm’s
statement of 1978. Consequently, Motte-Haber replaced the title
Musikalische Postmoderne with the neutral Geschichte der Musik im 20.
Jahrhundert: 1975-2000 in the series she published: Handbuch der Musik
im 20. Jahrhundert. Following Motte-Haber, the term “postmodernism”
has always been blurred and vague, although in her opinion nowadays the
problem is solved by the abolition of the idea of postmodernism itself,
apparently already a fact in the year 2000.
Rihm never took an action that could be judged as a voluntary break
with the past, with modernism or with any valuable element of his musical
education. In this way, he is both a postmodernist who belongs to the
generation after or “post” modernism and a continuer of modernism with
modernist elements at his disposal. While during the 1970s the tradition of
Romanticism was more self-evident in his music, he became, without any
solicitation or effort and against his will (and even against all odds), the
central figure in the debate described above. The situation changed towards
the broader postmodernist attitude in the 1980s, where modernist aspects
regain an important place: this new situation is also perfectly suitable for
Rihm’s evolution.
Rihm remained detached from the whole debate on postmodernism.
He ascertains that his work has alternately been admired and blamed either
as too much or too little postmodern, either as too much or too little
modern. Around 1990 he was even labelled “neo-modern”. He asks himself
how long postmodernism will persevere in being the Jetzt-Avantgarde, the
avant-garde of this moment: in his opinion the avant-garde has already
become a conservative concept. To put it in an unequivocal way: when
Rihm was asked in 1988 “What do you think about the postmodernism
debate?” his answer was as short as can be: “Nothing”. In his opinion,
postmodernism is no more than a “combat term” for journalists and,
therefore, it even has a funny and amusing side.4 It seems indeed that in the
1980s and early 1990s the discussion about what postmodernism is about
had any significance at all only among musicologists, not among composers
and musicians.5
In spite of the composer’s disengaged attitude, Rihm’s music doubtlessly

contains postmodernist characteristics. In the first place this entails the
definition of his neologism “inclusive composing”6 (Inklusives Kompo
nieren), which is marked by its openness to all existing features and the
possibility of building them into his own music. Composing in an inclusive
way means that no influences whatsoever are to be excluded, that influences
can function on different levels of the composition and in different ways
from the outside into it, that heterogeneity is a possible outcome and that
the principle of stylistic purity (Stilreinheit) is abolished. It is Rihm’s belief
that out of a total openness to all existing facts and elements and out of
their combinability interesting contemporary novelties can emerge.
Another aspect of Rihm’s postmodernism is the extension of the quoted
definition of inclusive composing: some materials are not at all “exhausted”
after being included in a composition for the first time. Therefore, they
invite the composer to rework them. As explained above, they become
“generative poles” on the one hand and the subject of “overpainting” on the
other. They contain the germs of new elements and new versions, creating
a network of relations between the different process stages they appear in,
spread over different compositions, all derived from the same basic
materials. Rihm’s description of the genesis of his Klavierstück Nr. 6,
Bagatellen is a clear illustration of this attitude, of his absolute need to
reprocess. He concentrated on earlier processed material that had seemed
already partly exhausted, although he felt it could not be left aside. By
composing these Bagatellen he was able to bring materials of the intensive
creative period of 1977 to an end. In a broader context, the relations within
these pluralistic networks can be defined as “intertextuality”, a term
borrowed from the study of literature. In a most generalised way,
intertextuality can be defined as the network of all art: communication is
possible between all artworks, causing relations and dialogues with the
tradition. In other words, no artwork can be independent of the context of
the past, of tradition.
Yet another postmodern aspect of Rihm’s style was already mentioned
earlier: the stress on the attempt, on the search for the composition,
replacing the absolute perfection of the artwork as an affirmative
presentation of the result of the composer’s best and ideal findings, which
was a modernist concept. Rihm’s predilection for fragmentation in his
56 Part I – Style
compositions and for the concept that the ending of a composition should
not be an affirmation, but rather a question mark, consolidates this
approach. That Rihm is really aware of his aesthetic choices can be made
clear by his comparison with his teacher Karlheinz Stockhausen: he defines
Stockhausen’s music as “clean” (reine Musik) and marked by a certain
degree of “artificiality” (Künstlichkeit), while his own music is “dirtier”
(schmuzigere Musik) than his teacher’s. The reason therefore is indeed his
typical postmodern attitude: he accepts and admits being exposed to a lot
of uncertainties.7
While Rihm’s concept of form is mostly through-composed, based on
fragmentation and on building a series of unique events, it is clear that a
composition by his hand is not directed by climax building (which does not
imply that climactic moments should be excluded) or by logical development
of certain presented items, or by discursiveness, in one word: it is not
teleological. The general questioning of teleology is one of the main aspects
of postmodernism brought up by Judy Lochhead: at first she applies it to
concepts of time and temporality, but her conclusion says that time
processes, such as music, “are no longer understood to imply a future-
directed progress in which events are causally related”.8 Rihm’s unexpected
refusal to write comments and explain his music by means of texts near the
end of the 1990s is also accountable to a postmodernist attitude. According
to Lochhead, all knowledge is the “result of interpretative understanding”
and as a consequence, perception becomes a “creative act”. Transferred to
Rihm’s music, one could say that the composer is waiting for a creative
perception and interpretation by the listener and that therefore every verbal
comment is nothing but an obstacle, dictating a unified comprehension.
The composer takes a step back in favour of the multi-interpretability of his
music and the listener builds his own relationship with the music through
his individual perception. As early as in 1968, Roland Barthes launched the
concept of the “death of the author” in his essay La mort de l’Auteur, the
crucial closing phrase being “La naissance du lecteur doit se payer de la mort
de l’Auteur” or “The birth of the reader must be ransomed by the death of
the Author”. Barthes “relocates the source of meaning from the author to an
interaction between creator and receiver (reader, listener, viewer), each of
whom is understood as part of an inter-subjective context that confers
meaning”, certainly when Barthes writes: “To give an Author to a text is to
impose upon that text a stop clause, to furnish it with a final signification,
to close the writing.”9
Rihm’s compositional method is based on decisions taken during the
process, the act of composing, without teleological aim, without planning
beforehand. That makes his situation comparable or even identical to that
of the listener: he perceives what happens at this moment, knowing nothing
about the future, open to all possibilities. Of course the difference remains
while the composer decides what will come next, as it is his mission as an
author. The whole of Rihm’s aesthetic, based on techniques such as
generative poles, overpainting, working with insertions, creates possibilities
other than the decision taken here and now in the particular case of the
processed composition. The unused decision now, in this particular case, is
not a rejection but a potential postponement for later use. This understanding
makes each decision less absolute, less dominated by its author. To a certain
extent, it is indeed possible for the composer to act as a listener.
When Rihm explains that the starting point for his Eighth String Quartet
was the writing itself, the fixation of signs (das Schreiben selbst, das Zeichen-
Setzen), he quotes Barthes’s words: “das ‘Bestirnen eines Textes’”, referring to
“étoiler le texte” in the phrase “Corrections? Plutôt pour le plaisir d’étoiler le
texte” (“Corrections? Rather for the pleasure of starring the text”).
Apparently both authors still feel the pleasure of the act of handwriting.10
An interesting coincidence is the fact that Barthes uses the word déchiffre
ment (decipherment) in La mort de l’Auteur, while Rihm as an author is
offering the listener a whole series of Chiffres, which can be deciphered.
Position towards Modernism

François Lyotard’s statement that the artwork can become modern only
after it has emerged completely in postmodernity is perfectly applicable to
Rihm.11 The evolution of the latter from the 1970s onwards can be
summarised as follows: the first step consisted of the study and elaboration
of all interesting elements of the past, resulting in his compositions being
full of allusions and quasi-quotations. After this kind of revisiting the past,
in the 1980s the step forward into postmodernism as a new modernism
was backed by the permanent conscience of and possible dialogue with the
past. This consideration is compatible not only with Lyotard, but also with
58 Part I – Style
Danuser’s changed viewpoint towards 1990: “postmodernism as the

modernism of the present”.
The question is: which “modernism” is meant here? Undoubtedly Rihm
is not dealing with experiments of avant-garde. His modernism consists of
the embedded results of the experimental past of the twentieth century
(roughly the period 1910-1970), embedded in his personal style and
especially his personal attempts to withdraw any system in the 1980s. His
inclusive composing does not aim at a puralism for the sake of “colourfulness”
or mixture of style idioms as such, nor does he aim at a pluralism in the
sense of a collage of quotations. He is therefore different from historical
modernist examples such as Berio’s Sinfonia or Stockhausen’s Hymnen and
from contemporaries in the 1980s, who saw the collage as a personal style,
Alfred Schnittke’s polystylism for instance, culminating in the same decade
with his Concerto grosso no. 4/Symphony no. 5 (1988). As a consequence,
Rihm prefers stylistic allusions to exact quotations, although the latter are
not completely absent in his music of the 1980s. That is why I understand
“never” as an exaggeration in Rihm’s statement: “I never quote literally,
always filtered, processed.” Even a more general “intonation” of another
composer, which Rihm calls Tonfall, will always be the subject of reflected
allusion or processed quotation.12
Furthermore, the concept of pluralism and the openness to pluralistic
possibilities in the elaboration of one and the same musical material are
concentrated in Rihm’s concepts of the “generative pole” and the possibilities
of “overpainting” and “overwriting”. Am I using the same arguments to
classify them as modern and postmodern at the same time? Whereas
postmodernism is the modernism of the present, my point of view is no
longer a contradiction; indeed, Rihm’s characteristics can serve both.
Pluralism was introduced as a keyword in the aesthetics of Rihm’s modernist
predecessors, such as Pierre Boulez, who refused his whole life to consider
some of his compositions as finished or definitely fixed in a “closed” stage,
keeping the door open in order not to exclude other possibilities. I am not
referring just to Boulez’s works existing in different versions, mostly
reworked with expanded settings and duration, such as Eclat, …explosante-
fixe…, Répons, Dérives or the pairs Domaines, Notations and Incises,
originally for one soloist (but already in different versions in the case of
Notations and Incises) and afterwards expanded to soloist with other
instruments. I am also referring to the compositions in Boulez’s catalogue

which will forever bear the epithet “unfinished”, existing in only one version
or even in different versions, such as Piano Sonata no. 3, Figures-Doubles-
Prismes, Eclat/multiples, …explosante-fixe… and Répons. On his work list,
one finds the exceptional category of “Plans and projects”: here some titles
are related to existing compositions, others are not: Un coup de dés, Strophes,
Marges and again …explosante-fixe…13
The difference between Boulez and Rihm is that the latter is capable of
closing a composition, reserving or postponing the elaboration of the
unexhausted materials to future works. At a certain moment, Rihm decides
to close his work in progress: even if it was hanging for several years, over
different definite stages, it at last reaches its culminating final stage,
whereafter the composer no longer returns to this material. One of the
early examples is Tutuguri, preceded by five earlier stages: Tutuguri I-IV
and VI (all composed between 1980 and 1982; the concept of Tutuguri V
was never realised) and not yet finished in its final stage, because it was
followed by Schwarzer und roter Tanz, a Fragment aus Tutuguri in 1982/83,
hence reprocessed with unexhausted material. A later example is Jagden
und Formen, started in 1995 with two versions of Gejagte Form, continued
in Verborgene Formen (1995-97) and Gedrängte Form (1995/98) and
existing in different stages from 2001 on, the most recent being dated 2008:
Jagden und Formen (Zustand 2008). Alastair Williams points out that the
difference between Boulez’s “form in progress” and Rihm lies in the fact
that Boulez’s approach is about “multi-dimensional proliferation” with “its
roots in serial thinking, whereas Rihm’s expansive tendencies resist
systematic unfolding.”14
Musical Backgrounds in Modernism and

Nineteenth Century
During Rihm’s evolution up to today, certain elements of his musical
education remain prominent. Eugen Werner Velte was Rihm’s first
composition teacher at the Karlsruhe Music Academy (1968-72).
Afterwards he studied with Karlheinz Stockhausen (1972-73) in Cologne
and with Klaus Huber in Freiburg (1973-76), where he took up musicology
with Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht in the same period.
60 Part I – Style
Velte had conveyed to me the analytical dimension as well as the desire

for expression, with all its tensions and emotions. Stockhausen had
taught me the significance of intuition and, above all, a sure sense of
duration and proportion. Thanks to Huber, the philosophical and
ethical aspects of my compositional work had been reinforced, further
strengthened by my studies with Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht at the
University. Eggebrecht led me to a permanent consideration of the
notion of form in music. He was at the time head of the faculty of
musicology in Freiburg and his lectures on Mahler gave (after Adorno)
a basically new direction to thinking with regard to that composer.15
Although Rihm’s period of study with Stockhausen was not long, its
importance should not be underestimated. More than once Rihm expresses
his respect for Stockhausen and illustrates how he adapted certain learned
compositional concepts in his own way. Rihm will never forget Stockhausen:
“… because I keep going back to his music as to a source.”16 Of greater
importance in particular is the use of proportions, formal aspects based on
individualised “moments” and the priority given to intuition to break
through on any occasion when felt necessary in the course of a composition.
Older composers also have had a certain guiding role. Rihm describes
Velte’s Beethoven analyses as “unforgettable”. For his early compositions,
Beethoven and other romantic composers, such as Schubert, Schumann
and Mahler, had the greatest influence. For the music of the 1980s, the
interest shifts to the turn of the twentieth century: Rihm repeatedly cites
Claude Debussy and Arnold Schönberg (the period around 1910) for their
ability to combine minimal formalism and system with maximal expression.
He adds Edgard Varèse because in his opinion Varèse always presented
himself too much as a sound engineer during his life, while in fact he was
always overwhelming in his sound phantasy and therefore in fact irrational.
Rihm likes to quote Varèse’s radical plea for the abolition of all systems:
“[t]o compose with a system is proving creative impotence”17 (see p. 81).
However, admitting the impossibility of composing without coherence,
Rihm becomes much more subtle in his description of the claim for
freedom by his favourite composers:
For me, the music of Varèse together with Debussy, Schönberg,

Feldman and Nono is the freest of this century. Because this music –
contradictorily – also articulates this freedom, not only leaving it free
as a kind of free system. You can hear its coercion of freedom.18
Rihm elaborately expounds, in an honest and humble way, on the many

things he learnt from his encounters and conversations with different
colleagues, such as Morton Feldman and Luigi Nono, mentioned above,
and further with Wilhelm Killmayer and Helmut Lachenmann. To put
things clearly, separating influence, inspiration and his own situation, Rihm
himself is eager to add that these experiences have never resulted in
imitation or in his becoming a follower of one of those composers. It is
indeed more about complicity in aesthetic viewpoints which are partly
comparable.
In Feldman, for instance, Rihm found a colleague preoccupied with
freedom and therefore with the search for systemlessness. Rihm describes
how Feldman’s music witnesses his deepest obsession, how the music is
composed without any light note, with “delicacy and tenderness” and with
“implacability or ruthlessness” at the same time. Feldman was able to create
a “free space for his purposelessness, his unintentional writing”. These
elements fascinate Rihm, as he encounters his own claim for freedom, his
strong belief in taking responsibility for each composed or fixated note, his
utopian systemlessness.19
What I can learn from Luigi Nono, a list of more than thirty items, was
written by Rihm on the occasion of Nono’s sixtieth birthday, at the
beginning of 1984. Recurring issues here are again “freedom”, the fact that
learning is always “unaccomplished” or “unfinished” in the sense of
“unclosed” or “not ended” (Unabgeschlossenkeit), which, following Rihm, is
more important than and quite different from the always quoted openness.
Other issues are: the “capacity to take a certain distance from the aesthetic
based on coherence”, the “accuracy and multitude of fragments”, the
“understanding of the tradition without painful gesture, meaning
knowledge”. Rihm stresses that the list contains what he himself can learn,
not what one can find in Nono in general. Rihm and Nono became
acquainted in 1980. Rihm was certainly attracted by the searching
composer, who expressed the importance of going and trying in his late
so-called Caminar pieces, whose titles were found in Nono’s preferred
62 Part I – Style
pilgrim’s quotation, a medieval graffito on a wall in Toledo: “Caminantes,

no hay caminos, hay que caminar”, or “Travellers, there are no paths, you
have to walk”. However, Rihm is clearly aware of their differences. He denies
for instance that Nono’s process of composing his string quartet Fragmente,
Stille – An Diotima was “informal”, based on “not knowing at any moment
what had to come next”. He criticises Nono for explaining this process as
“intuitive” and “written in a kind of confused state of mind”, because the
analysis of the score “reveals something completely different”. Rihm
concludes that Nono was maybe too much trying to please him in their
conversation of 1980 he refers to. Moreover, Rihm admits never to have had
any feeling for Nono’s utopian socialism, or for his political engagement.20
At first listening, the relationship between Rihm’s and Lachenmann’s
music and aesthetics seems difficult to discern. Lachenmann’s aesthetic is
directed against and away from beauty, seeking for an attentive listener
with an open attitude towards the unknown and the new, a listener ready to
be disturbed and lose his balance, ready to challenge himself in the absence
of the slightest permission by the composer for enjoyment in the music.
Rihm’s aim is to be expressive and enjoying, even physically while
composing: the act of composing is explained as a very physical experience.
But next to the expressivity, it is not forbidden for the listener to have a
pleasant and hedonistic experience, to be touched by Rihm’s music.
Nevertheless, Rihm considers Lachenmann to be an important and
influential source, as is embedded for instance in the following
confrontation: “For me, Helmut Lachenmann is the other facing me and
through whom I come to myself.” Of course, both composers are searching,
but their quest is on a completely different level. Rihm is searching for the
composition during his creative process while Lachenmann is searching
for the non-existent and unheard noise and sound, for the new material
again and again, as a mandatory task before the start of each new
composition. For Rihm, Lachenmann’s importance and renown “stem from
the fact that he took his own individual, unwavering path”. Moreover,
according to Rihm, Lachenmann has an extreme awareness of tradition,
resulting for instance in the achieved composition as a closed form, taking
up “the legacy of the great European art music tradition: through-composed
large-scale forms, solitaries appear as the architecture of their own
formational processes”. In the end, Rihm brings up a surprising argument
when he declares that “Lachenmann is perhaps the only composer today

who truly composes classically”, glorifying him as the creator of Mouvement
(- vor der Erstarrung), “the pinnacle of this masterful classicism”. Following
Rihm, “the audible sonic organisation is shaped correspondingly: one
responds to the other, the parts are consistently formed in dialogic
complementarity.”21 Why is Rihm declaring Lachenmann a classicist?
Should Rihm admire this quality as a mirror of his own composing?
According to Alastair Williams, as part of Rihm’s modernism, his “aesthetic
is better seen as an expansion of constructivist concerns – as his tributes to
Karlheinz Stockhausen and Helmut Lachenmann suggest – than as a
negation of them.”22
Concerning Wilhelm Killmayer, the musical distance to Rihm seems
bigger than that to the other close composers. Maybe their relationship is
more based on a long-term friendship. The only link I can find is Killmayer’s
open attitude towards the past, especially towards eighteenth- and
nineteenth-century music, and the way his own style is built on the
reminiscences of earlier musical idioms, albeit that the presence of the past
is much more on the surface, much more direct and overwhelming than in
the case of Rihm. Killmayer’s predilection for soft dynamics, beautiful
sounds, for repetitive elements, for a certain simplicity and direct
accessibility, bringing him almost within reach of minimalism, are certainly
not characteristics which can inspire Rihm. In my opinion, Rihm’s use of
repetition has nothing in common with Killmayer’s sense for repetitiveness.
Nevertheless, their conversations have always been interesting and Rihm
has learned a lot from his older colleague, as he reveals in his essay on
Killmayer.23
Philosophical Influences in Postmodernism

In the branch of philosophy, there seems to have been more and easier
acceptance of the concept of postmodernism than in music. To find out the
extent to which postmodernist philosophy has influenced Rihm, it can be
interesting to look more closely at his friendship with the famous German
postmodernist philosopher, Peter Sloterdijk. Sloterdijk and Rihm became
acquainted in the middle of the 1980s; they became close friends. Rihm is
most grateful for their inspiring almost daily conversations and also very
64 Part I – Style
proud that his friend dedicated the seventh chapter of his essay Weltfremdheit
to him: Wo sind wir wenn wir Musik hören.24 On turn, in 2007, Rihm offered
the piano piece Wortlos to Sloterdijk for his sixtieth birthday. However,
questioned about any possible influence by Sloterdijk’s philosophy, Rihm
answers that he is absolutely not influenced in a direct or concrete way, but
rather by his friend’s method.
Departing from an established concept, he [Sloterdijk] changes the

manner of consideration in an infinitesimal way and, by doing so,
confers a complete new functionality on it. This manner of changing
by almost nothing the angle of view on things I made mine. That’s my
way of treating the means of Viennese classicism or serial and post-
serial avant-garde. In a certain way, my way of considering things
becomes audible, and something new is born of it.25
Moreover, this quotation makes clear that both friends prefer not to set foot
on the other’s territory: it is all and only about the manner and the method.
Indeed, Sloterdijk has never written an essay on Rihm’s music (nor on
another composer’s). Following the first publication of one of their public
discussions each one stayed his own ground: when Rihm gave his definition
of generative pole as applied to his music Sloterdijk was not entering into a
discussion about this crucial subject.26
Nevertheless, both intellectuals have more than one concept in common:
the next paragraphs will show interesting correspondences, although
some may seem to be pure coincidence or just plain anecdotal.
Rihm’s concept of the “search” for a composition, Versuch and Suche, is
comparable with Sloterdijk’s approach of philosophical thinking from
scratch. In Kritik der zynischen Vernunft, Sloterdijk’s main work of the
1980s and a kind of bible of postmodernism, the philosopher starts from
the ascertainment that philosophy has been dying for a whole century,
without deciding about its dying hour. Philosophy is no longer capable of
mastering a synthesis; philosophy is hiding itself in the documenting of the
history of philosophy. On the other hand, true philosophy still exists as
forschendes Denken or “searching thinking”.27 What Rihm defines as
composition is translated by Sloterdijk into philosophy: “[t]he truth of the
searching is not the searching for the truth.” Searching becomes more
important than finding. The other way around is Rihm’s conviction that
Sloterdijk’s philosophy is “a way of thinking, showing itself as musical

thinking.”28
Inspired by Artaud’s theatre aesthetic and philosophy, Rihm developed
the concept of the Vor-Ton or “pre-tone” for Tutuguri: “the hope of entering
the never-heard”,29 the stage before the sound is formed or moulded,
“rough, unformed, not-yet-sound”. The title of Rihm’s Third String Quartet,
Im Innersten (1976), can easily be related to this concept: in the innermost,
a sound is not yet formed. It is still rough: a pre-tone. After Kritik der
zynischen Vernunft, Sloterdijk became interested in theories about inner
objects and their archetypes: for instance, how birds show traces of auditive
receptivity in ovo. He refers to what Plato described as the “prenatal
information of the ‘soul’” and to the foetal ear of the unborn child.30 Human
beings can share inner worlds, according to Sloterdijk. The philosopher
illustrates this chapter in Sphären with a score: the opening bars of the sixth
and final movement of Rihm’s Third String Quartet, Im Innersten. Apart
from the caption, there is no reference to Rihm, or to the title of the quartet
in Sloterdijk’s explanation.
Going into greater detail, Sloterdijk believes that every kind of life starts
with the Ur-Hören, the “pre-hearing” or “primeval hearing”. He sees only
one possibility for a philosophy of hearing: as a “theory of the inner”
(Theorie des In-Seins). The optimal condition for the inner hearing is indeed
the “foetal hearing” (das fötale Gehör). Because this foetal hearing is pre-
world inner and anticipating the world of noise and sound, Sloterdijk’s
concept is completely comparable to Rihm’s concept of the pre-tone: the
former’s Proto-Musik and Endo-Musik and the latter’s Vor-Ton.
When Sloterdijk is presenting his comments on the universe as a globe,
he illustrates his text with a photo of Artaud carrying the globe instead of
Atlas. The caption says: “Antonin Artaud, 1926”. Again, however, as was the
case with Rihm’s Im Innersten, Artaud’s name is mentioned only in the
caption, without any further explanation in the text.31
The following may be pure coincidence, but worth mentioning
nonetheless. One page before the passage referred to above in Sphären,
Sloterdijk illustrates his reflexions on mystic duality and unity with a
picture of the sculpture by Lorenzo Bernini, Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. Fifteen
years earlier, Rihm’s ausgesprochen contained only one artwork as
illustration: the same Bernini sculpture, more precisely a detail of Teresa’s
66 Part I – Style
head. At first, the composer writes that he does not know why this sculpture
comes suddenly to his mind while he is commenting on Ohne Titel, his
Fifth String Quartet, but then he realises that the angel’s arrow is scratching
and slashing the music paper, “But you don’t see him”.32 This could be a
germ for the Eighth String Quartet, composed four years later, where paper
is manipulated and written on.
There are more angels: Rihm’s Séraphin (1991-2011) is based on Artaud
and deals with the male-female-neutral in one being, as described by
Artaud. Already in Die Eroberung von Mexico (1987-91, after Artaud),
singing heads were appearing, and these were also männlich, weiblich,
neutral at once. In Sphären, Sloterdijk describes angels as “double figures”,
not male and female at once, but as twins, doubles: the human being and
his angel custodian.33 Of course this is different from Artaud and Rihm; still
the idea of the angel with a double appearance returns.
What Rihm does not have in common with Sloterdijk is the latter’s
predilection for irony and cynicism, already clear in the title of Kritik der
zynischen Vernunft. Cynicism is a basic attitude for Sloterdijk, while for
Rihm irony is no more than joking about writing a text for a programme
brochure for instance. Even Rihm’s song cycle Wölfli-Liederbuch (1980-81,
male voice with piano; Wölfli-Lieder, 1981/82, with orchestra) is not written
because of the composer’s sense of sarcasm or cynicism, but because of his
interest in the poet’s madness. Madness and the boundaries of mental
health and illness were explored by Rihm in more than one composition in
his early years, such as the chamber opera Jakob Lenz (1977/78), the song
cycle Lenz-Fragmente and other song cycles on poems by Hölderlin, Paul
Celan and Ernst Herbeck, for instance. Rihm’s interest in Nietzsche, Artaud,
Karoline von Günderrode (Das Rot, 1990) and especially Schumann with
Fremde Szenen (1982-84) can also partly be ascribed to his interest in
phenomena in the circle of madness.
On the subjects of Vor-Ton and angels Antonin Artaud’s name was
already linked to Sloterdijk. It is Rihm’s conviction that he came to know
Artaud’s essays “at the right moment”, at the end of the 1970s. Artaud’s
aesthetic views as explained in Le Théâtre et son double (1938), containing
his important manifesto Le Théâtre de la Cruauté, have influenced Rihm in
his theatre pieces and vocal music throughout his career, starting with
Tutuguri, continuing with Die Eroberung von Mexico and elaborated in
depth in the different stages of the work in progress Séraphin. Artaud’s own
understanding of cruauté was an issue of debate during his lifetime: as a
result, it was at last replaced by the word double. His aim has never been
defined in fewer words than in a letter to his friend Jean Paulhan: “If the
theatre doubles life, life doubles the real theatre.”34 Indeed, his aim was a
theatre that was identifiable with real life, where cruauté received a double
place and meaning: on the one hand the cru or “raw” as the natural and
uncultivated situation of a tribe, more precisely in the stage before language
was invented, communicating with primary sounds, noises and cries, and
on the other hand the unavoidable cru as in cruauté or “cruelty”, in the
struggle to survive in such a community. Discussing the most appropriate
terminology with Paulhan, Artaud decided to replace the original Théâtre
de la Cruauté by Le Théâtre et son double because, in his opinion, the latter
would be easier for the public to understand. In his letter, Artaud adds:
“This cruelty is not about sadism, nor blood, at least not in an exclusive
way.” It is explained as a necessary condition of human life, making it “raw
and rough” at the same time.
With the right interpretation of Artaud’s theatre approach, Rihm
understands this raw/rough as “not in artificial conventions disguised
ideas, a theatre of pure affections”. Moreover, because of Artaud’s poetics,
Rihm felt it possible to set free his musical language in general. Certainly
this general influence leaves its traces in Rihm’s instrumental music of the
1980s, because he objects to the complete separation of a musical language
for the theatre and another one for instrumental music. A primary sound is
found in the part of the second violin in the Seventh String Quartet
(bar 125, eine Art Schrei), which could be seen as a reaction to the
first intervention of the woodblock played by the first violinist (first
intervention after the isolated woodblock stroke in the opening bar).
Another allusion to the primary cry is found in Rihm’s description of
Chiffre II. Interpreting the subtitle Silence to be Beaten in different ways,
he writes about the pain and torment provoked by “beating” in the sense
of “slapping” or “smacking” the silence and he adds: “The cry of the silence
is the music.”35
Artaud’s cruauté is literally translated by Rihm as “Musik als Rohzustand”,
music in its “raw stage”, before the sound is moulded: Rihm is very detailed
about rhythmic and melodic raw stages and about the raw stage being the
68 Part I – Style
“material, where rhythm and melody consist of, pressed, compressed,

returned to its stage-being”.36 In a completely different context, but worth
mentioning, is the fact that Rihm describes the music by Anton Webern as
“abstract serial raw food” or crudités (abstrakte Reihen-Rohkost).37 At the
end of his comment on the Chiffre cycle, Rihm quotes four texts out of his
text discoveries, one by Pascal and three by Artaud: (1) about all attempts
and searching leading to a work, a composition, (2) about the poetic energy
as the only law or norm to create something and (3) about “the secret world
of theatre with its dissonance, its staggering of timbres and its dialectic
unleashing of the expression”.38
Together with the painter Kurt Kocherscheidt, Antonin Artaud is one
of the very exceptional extra-European influences on Rihm. Artaud was
clearly influenced by Balinese dance theatre and by his stay in Mexico with
the Tarahumaras people. Where the composer has always denied the
possibility of merging with other musical genres, such as ethnic music, he
admits that listening to Artaud’s voice in the original recording (1947) of
Pour en finir avec le jugement de Dieu, made him hear “genuine music from
a foreign people, called ‘Antonin Artaud’”.39 This rather unusual formulation
shows how the contact with Balinese and Mexican culture through Artaud
is important for Rihm, but at the same time filtered by himself: it is never
reaching or changing his own compositional concepts. For instance, for Die
Eroberung von Mexico, Rihm considers Artaud’s text as music, suppressing
any possible exotic influence.40
Next to the woodblocks, the wide range of hard timbres in the Seventh
String Quartet, Veränderungen, is caused by high bow pressure, which
distorts the sound towards noise. Rihm asks for it in an explicit way: sehr
starker Bogendruck, viel Geräusch (bar 176), followed by a non-vibrato fff
passage, to be played rauh! and roh! or “rough” and “raw”, comparable to
crudo, asked for in Chiffre III. Together with the “kind of yell or cry”, eine
Art Schrei (Seventh String Quartet, bar 125), these timbres must be related
to the world of Antonin Artaud. More specifically, this is about the category
of pre-sound or not yet moulded sound, the Vor-Ton, as elaborated by
Sloterdijk. In this way, the noise of the woodblocks in this string quartet
suggests different semiotic meanings: it deals with the creation of sound
because of the noise, not yet cultivated as sound; it deals with extended
string timbres. The woodblock is the first event of the piece but also the
ultimate one, “as if ” but not really breaking down the obsessive repeated
cello figure at the end.
Philosophical Influences in Modernism

In his attempt to reach systemlessness, Rihm felt supported by aspects of
Adorno’s music philosophy, most of all by his plea for an “informal music”
in Vers une musique informelle.41 Others of Adorno’s thought processes,
more precisely as found in his Aesthetic Theory,42 consider the balance
between formal and informal musical aspects in a very meaningful way
and are also applicable to Rihm’s aesthetic.
In his Aesthetic Theory, elaborating the concepts of the enigmatic and
the truth-content of an artwork in the context of art as mimesis, Adorno
condemns the artwork that is too focused on its logical order, on the inner
exactitude of its formal elements, on its own inner organisation. He is
convinced that the distance to empirical reason becomes unbridgeable:
“[t]he more reasonable the work becomes in terms of its formal constitution,
the more ridiculous it becomes according to the standard of empirical
reason.” As part of Adorno’s mimesis theories, empirical reasoning starts
from a piece of evidence, from a fact that is imitated in art, not directed by
formal reasons but by intuition. To the extent that the empirical example is
absent in the creation of absolute music, one should be tempted to decide
that organisational and formal elements are the only truth on which to
build a sound construction or composition. However, given the absence of
empirical examples or imitable concepts, it should on the other hand be
tempting as well to trust and follow intuition or momentary spontaneity in
such a way that it results in a formless artwork or a systemless creation
without any coherence, and therefore meaningless at the very end. Adorno
is countering this in two ways: by his statement that art without the element
of intuition would be nothing other than theory, and by the statement that
although artworks are not conceptual, they are logical. The principle of
logical consistency is declared to be the rational aspect of artworks and
therefore becomes art’s antimimetic impulse. How can one understand this
logical consistency? Adorno’s masterful example is considering art’s logic
with its “undifferentiatedness of spirit and blind necessity” as “reminiscent
of the strict lawfulness that governs the succession of real events in history”.
70 Part I – Style
This must be about a mixture of planning, strategy, anticipation, empathy

and reaction to unexpected and unforeseeable occurrences, repetition of
earlier successful actions, including indeed a certain amount of intuition.
The aesthetic aim of the artwork is to communicate its own logic, that is its
content in a formed object: “[i]ncontestably the quintessence of all elements
of logicality, or, more broadly, coherence in artworks, is form.” Therefore
the content must be sedimented in the form, implying that the form is
subordinated to the content, that form is a function of content. The musical
content has to create its own form, according to its needs. This results in the
concept of minimal formalism. And turning back to the link between art
and the empirical, Adorno insists: “The determinate antithesis of individual
artworks toward empirical reality furthers the coherence of those
artworks.”43
Referring to Adorno and relatable to the theory above, Rihm was
already using the term “intuition” (Ahnungsfähigkeit) in his essay Musika
lische Freiheit.44 Rihm agrees with Adorno that art cannot be a pure
proclamation of subjectivity. In his opinion it is the other way round:
subjectivity is a condition for musical proclamation, implying a certain
articulation within it and without being the aim of music. Therefore
subjectivity possesses a certain order – although not a hierarchical one –
even before being the subject of music or becoming expressed in music.45
The term “intuition” appears also in the description of what Rihm learned
from Stockhausen.
Rihm’s intention to eliminate any system is countered by the impossibility
of non-coherence; one step backwards could be defined as composing with
minimal coherence, which is not identical, though very similar to minimal
formalism. Moreover, for Rihm this minimal concept does include a certain
degree of complexity:
Only the unmanageable form resigns the claim to power and can, in
that way, become form as art. Therefore highly complex inexplicable
constructions are even more subversive than stringent, simplified
ones, which may be striking for one moment, but which let nothing
unclear, neither rest nor enigma.46
It is as if Adorno’s essay Vers une musique informelle was almost meant for
Rihm personally; that is the composer’s conviction. Upon first reading he
felt directly addressed by several aspects of it. In his opinion Adorno is

talking as a musician here, “as the composer he himself never became”, less
as a music sociologist or philosopher.47 Rihm likes to quote the last words
of Adorno’s essay because of their philosophical openness: “The aim of
every artistic utopia today is to make things in ignorance of what they
are.”48 In this essay, Adorno again struggles with the aspect of coherence,
talking about the paradox or “antinomy of freedom and coherence”, or
claiming that “freedom should organise itself in such a way that it need bow
to no alien yardstick which mutilates everything that strives to shape itself
in freedom”.49 As a result, for both Adorno and Rihm, musique informelle
remains in the state of utopia, an ideal impossible to reach.
Adorno mentions contemporary painters, such as Bernard Schultze,
belonging to the informal painting in Germany around 1960: Informal Art
or art informel was a movement in Europe after the Second World War,
influenced by American Abstract Expressionism.50 This inspiration by fine
arts could be viewed as one more link between Adorno and Rihm, for
whom comparison with and viewpoints within fine arts are very inspiring
(see p. 93ff.) Adorno also refers to the real possibility that informal music
was, around 1910, mentioning free atonal compositions by Schönberg.
When Rihm refers to Schönberg as one of his important and influential
sources, he never forgets to add “around 1910”.
Informal music has its consequences, following Adorno: “in the absence
of residual form, musical coherence appears to be quite inconceivable”.51
Not without importance is the fact that Gianmario Borio relates the
informal artwork to the music of the avant-garde and explains why it is
often declared un-analysable. The cause lies in the character of the process
and the improvisatory interventions replacing the constructive moment.
Hence, parameters may no longer be considered one by one. Because
Borio’s subject is avant-garde of the 1960s, his scope is Ligeti’s sound masses
and Eco’s theory on the open artwork, but parts of his statements still have
importance for the way informal aspects of Rihm’s music can be
approached.52
Carl Dahlhaus also identifies musique informelle with the radical music
of the 1950s and 60s, whereas a concept of form implies “musical coherence
on a large scale”. In his opinion, the purpose of informal music was “to draw
undivided attention to the isolated detail, to the individual musical
72 Part I – Style
moment.” This can be applied to Rihm whose plea for concentration on the
moment, on the sounding music itself (in the sense of musical phrase,
moment or short entity) is evident. That this “disconnected matter stands
side by side in sharp contrast”, as Dahlhaus continues his definition, can
also be so for Rihm.53
When Adorno is arguing in Das Altern der Neuen Musik that technical
and constructive inventions in modern music are only trying to hide the
subjectivity behind it, he blames Stravinsky, Hindemith and Bartók and
praises the example of Boulez who renounces all subjectivity.54 On the
other hand, Rihm confirms that it is his conviction that Schönberg’s self-
consideration has always been rooted in the subjective, that Boulez,
Stockhausen and Nono have never been against subjectivity and expressivity
and that their early works, such as Visage nuptial, Le soleil des eaux, Il Canto
sospeso or Gruppen are all “great music” with a high degree of subjectivity.
Rihm denies ever having heard an objective puristic sound world in this
music. And he adds one more of his favourite composers: Varèse.55
3
Musical Traces
W ithin the most common types of historical references, allusion and

quotation, Rihm clearly prefers allusion with a broad spectrum of
possibilities. For instance, while Rihm is impressed by Schubert’s Tonfall or
“intonation”, he “quoted” this intonation in Erscheinung, Skizze über
Schubert (1978), which is in fact an allusion.1 However, exact quotations –
as short as they may be – are also found. For both possibilities the composer
explains how he can be struck or touched by particular moments in a
composition and consequently inspired for his own music. Although Rihm
searched for a high degree of systemlessness in the 1980s, musical traces of
the past are not absent in his compositions: examples found in the Chiffre
cycle are at the core of this chapter.
Dealing with Allusion and Quotation

Rihm’s Third String Quartet, Im Innersten, dated 1976, is a good example of
his sense for combined historical references. Not only does the title remind
one of Janáček’s Second String Quartet, Intimate Letters, but the musical
content also contains many allusions: late Beethoven, Janáček, Bartók and
the “expressive” works of the Second Viennese School after 1900, where
Alban Berg in particular is mentioned by name.2 In the Third String Quartet,
traditional Italian indications for each movement are lacking, as is mostly
the case for Rihm’s scores, but in his comment the composer suggests that
all movements could be entitled adagio or con moto or a combination of
both, again referring to Janáček who makes use of both indications not
only in his Second String Quartet, Intimate Letters, but even more in his
First String Quartet, Kreutzer Sonata.3 In a broader context, Rihm’s title Im
Innersten refers to the expressivity of romanticism in general, and more
specifically puts forward “expressivity” as one of the most important aims
of his own aesthetic.
73
74 Part I – Style
More than once Rihm opts for a “dialogue” or Auseinandersetzung with

a specific composer from the past, writing a new composition to
complement an existing one, to be performed in the same concert. To
precede Richard Strauss’s Salome, Rihm composed the nocturnal scene Das
Gehege (2004-05) on a text drawn not from the same libretto as Richard
Strauss, but from a complete different source: the final part of Botho
Strauss’s Schlusschor. The plot depicts a woman who falls in love with a
caged eagle and undresses in front of the bird. The bird does not react, even
when she frees it. At last she curses the animal and finally kills it. This
example not only exhibits content related to Salome, but Rihm also refers to
Richard Strauss’s music, using almost the same orchestra, where violins
divisi play intertwined lines with a ”Jugendstil inspired sophistication” and
the Straussian sound is multi-layered, sensual, voluptuous, full of
“crystallisations and compactions”, according to Bas van Putten.4
This kind of allusion may not be generalised. For Eine Strasse, Lucile
(2011), a scene for soprano and orchestra, Rihm chose a text from Dantons
Tod by Georg Büchner, the same source as Gottfried von Einem’s opera
Dantons Tod, but Rihm’s text is not in von Einem’s libretto. On the occasion
of its premiere, Eine Strasse, Lucile was followed by von Einem’s opera.
Rihm did not seek to relate his music to von Einem’s sound. Furthermore,
it was only by coincidence that the two pieces were performed on the same
evening. The only musical reference in the piece is a self-quotation: Rihm
added a march to the score, a juvenile work written 32 years earlier, without
even changing its tonal atmosphere.5
Allusions to Bach are heard in DEUS PASSUS, but also much earlier in
the chamber opera Jakob Lenz. ET LUX is a contemporary requiem, where
the vocal quartet is inspired by Renaissance polyphony and the string
quartet sounds like a consort of viols. Still on the subject of dialogue, an
Auseinandersetzung with Schumann is composed in Fremde Szenen,
especially but not exclusively in the second movement, Charakterstück.
Another favourite of Rihm’s is Johannes Brahms. In 2000-01 Rihm
composed Das Lesen der Schrift, four orchestral pieces intended to be
incorporated between the movements of Ein deutsches Requiem. References
in titles and style are found in Brahmsliebewalzer (1985, orchestra; 1987-88,
piano) and Ernster Gesang (1996, orchestra) an instrumental answer to Vier
ernste Gesänge. Rihm’s description of the composition process of Ernster
3 – Musical Traces 75
Gesang is witness to his dialogue and confrontation with Brahms. For

months he was playing and singing Brahms’s Lieder and piano pieces.
However, at the moment of the composition “I was both filled with and
empty of Brahms (brahmsreich und brahmsarm). The repercussions, the
constellations that existed in my memory, disappeared when I wanted to
grasp them or force them into a concrete form. Their appearance is thus
always their immediate disappearance as well. What remains is an
intonation, a turning of events that wavers between arrival and departure.”6
That Brahms can be close and far away at the same time, ungraspable, also
explains the title Nähe fern (2012), a symphony for baritone and orchestra,
to be performed in a dialogue with Brahms’s symphonies.
Listing the different kinds of allusion and quotation found in the
paragraph above yields a typology of historical references: (1) allusion by the
use of a specific title, (2) allusion to a historical style in general, (3) allusion
as a dialogue with a specific composer, (4) allusion to different composers
within the same composition, (5) allusion to a composer by quoting
interpretation indications, and (6) allusion to a specific composition.
Verbal Allusions in the Chiffre Cycle

In the Chiffre cycle Rihm is rather tentative with the indications in Italian
for interpretation or expression (see p. 265). As often, there is an exception:
Chiffre III is unique in several ways because only Italian terms are used. It
is the only piece with an indication in the opening bar: Crudo. Concentrated
in the middle of the score (the piano solo repeated chord with percussion
interventions around bar 76) an accumulation of verbal and musical
quotations and allusions to György Ligeti is found. The first one, Prestissimo
come una macchina, is a verbal allusion to Ligeti’s String Quartet no. 2,
where the third movement must be articulated Come un meccanismo di
precisione. It returns also in other pieces, for instance in the third movement
of his Chamber Concerto (Kammerkonzert), a Movimento preciso e
meccanico and of course as the main subject in Poème symphonique for 100
metronomes. The other Ligeti with his sense of absurd humour is found in
Aventures and Nouvelles Aventures. Rihm’s prescription Isterico refers to one
of the tableaux of Nouvelles Aventures, entitled Grand Hysterical Scene.
Typical of Rihm is that these two individual characteristics of Ligeti are
76 Part I – Style
applied in a contrapuntal way: while the piano is playing Prestissimo, come

una macchina, the two percussionists are asked to play Isterico. Moreover,
the percussionists play whistles at that moment (bars 70-79), unique
instruments heard only at this particular moment of Chiffre III. In doing so,
Rihm combines a musical allusion to Ligeti with the verbal ones: the police
whistle is used by Ligeti in his opera Le Grand Macabre (scenes 1 and 3, in
the latter accompanying Gepopo, the chief of the secret police and also
announcing midnight in the climactic scene with Nekrotzar) and in the
related Mysteries of the Macabre, next to Táncdal, the second song and
Szajkó, the seventh and last song of the cycle Síppal, dobbal,
nádihegedüvel (With Pipes, Drums, Fiddles).
Now and again, Rihm chooses unusual German terms with a historical
connotation. These terms can be valorised as verbal historical quotations,
with a special meaning for the composer. The indication Wie ein Hauch
(Like a sigh) appears in Chiffre IV, VI and VIII. As a historical connotation,
it refers in the first place to Gustav Mahler and Arnold Schönberg. In the
final episode of the second movement of Mahler’s Symphony no. 8, at the
start of the Chorus Mysticus, Mahler asks the singers to begin Wie ein
Hauch. The sixth and final number of Schönberg’s Sechs kleine Klavierstücke,
op. 19, is Sehr Langsam and has only nine bars; in the final bar Schönberg
asks for Wie ein Hauch. The same indication is found in different works by
Webern: “Entflieht auf leichten Kähnen”, op. 2, where the a cappella choir
concludes Wie ein Hauch in the penultimate and ultimate bar. Again in Im
Morgentraum, the fourth Lied of Fünf Lieder aus “Der siebente Ring” von
Stefan George, op. 3, the voice has to end Wie ein Hauch in the penultimate
and ultimate bars. At the end of the final piece, Bewegt, of the Vier Stücke
für Geige und Klavier, op. 7, the violin repeats a descending arpeggio: the
first time pp, diminuendo and Wie ein Hauch, the second time ppp and
diminuendo.
Because of Rihm’s special relation with Brahms, I add the following
Lied, where Wie ein Hauch is part of the text and not an indication for
interpretation: Brahms, Fünf Lieder, Wie Melodien, op. 105/1, on a poem by
Klaus Groth. Und schwindet wie ein Hauch is the final verse of the second
strophe (of three strophes of four verses each). Graham Johnson comments:
“Especially memorable are the third and fourth lines of the second strophe
where the phrases ‘Wie Nebelgrau erblaßt’ and ‘Und schwindet wie ein
Hauch’ seem to dematerialise in the modulations descending to a hushed F

sharp minor.”7 No more than a coincidence, but worth mentioning: Brahms
prefers F# minor just as Rihm chooses f# in the high register of the bass
clarinet in unison with the double bass, harmonic sul tasto, Wie ein Hauch
in Chiffre VI (bar 25).
The special effect Schalltrichter hoch (auf, in die Höhe, aufgehoben) or
“bells up”, used not only for brass instruments but also for oboe and clarinet,
is found throughout the Chiffre cycle: in Chiffre II, V, VI and VII, four, six,
three and five times, respectively. It refers to the work of different composers,
firstly again Gustav Mahler: Symphony no. 1, 4th movement; Symphony no.
2, 1st, 3rd and 5th movements. Other composers are Alexander von
Zemlinsky, Lyrische Symphonie, 2nd and 6th movements; Igor Stravinsky in
Le Sacre du Printemps: Jeu du rapt, Glorification de l’élue, Action rituelle des
ancêtres and Danse sacrale (L’Elue); Alban Berg in Wozzeck, Act I, scene 5,
Marie and the Drum-major, near the end of the scene, when Marie sings
the words “Meinentwegen es ist Alles eins!” (“Have your way, then! It is all
the same!”); Altenberglieder, 1. Seele, wie bist du schöner and 5. Hier ist
Friede. It is also found at the end of Varèse’s Intégrales.8
In most examples above, the indication “bells up” appears at climactic
moments paired with ff or fff dynamics. However, there are exceptions:
Mahler, Symphony no. 2, 5th movement: in bar 497 ff. the six horns play mit
aufgehebenen Schalltrichter in p, while the other instruments have pp and
ppp, creating a dynamic and a timbrally subtle effect; Berg, Altenberglieder,
1. Seele, wie bist du schöner: bar 27: hn: mf, molto crescendo, while the voice
is silent.
Returning to the Chiffre cycle, there is a remarkable similarity between
the locations of “bells up”. In Chiffre V, VI and VII, this prescription appears
in the same bars: bar 65 in Chiffre V, VI and VII; bar 67 in Chiffre VI and
VII and bar 144 in Chiffre V and VII. With the proportion 3:2:1 in Chiffre
II, V and VI, there are also proportional similarities: Schalltrichter oben in
bars 216, 144 and 72, respectively. Twice the same combination appears:
the indication for different brass instruments is followed a few bars later by
the trumpet alone. This is the case in Chiffre V (bars 62 and 65) and Chiffre
VII (bars 65 and 67, see p. 284ff.).
78 Part I – Style
Allusion to a Style: Baroque

The musical allusion to the Baroque era is clear in Rihm’s note of “chorale-
like” (dazu choraliges) on one of his sketches for Chiffre II and III. Slow
homorhythmical longer passages with emphasis on the melody of the
upper voice allude to a chorale style but remain distant from it by reason of
certain characteristics, such as for instance parallel intervals in Chiffre II
and Chiffre III (Ex. 3, Ex. 4).
q = 80
- - - - 3 - - - - -
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v. >
.
3
Ex. 3. Chiffre II, 153-156. Chorale-like style. Horn: always +.
sfffz ^.j sfffz >

™ nœfi >- n-˙ - bœ n>œ
> >-
fff sempre
- >- > -j più>-fff j3
4 Ó
& 4 Œ n˙ nœ nœ œ nœ ™ bœ ™ œ #œœ™ nœ. bœ œ w ˙™ Œ
œ nœ ™ bœ ™ v >-
Pf
n˙ bœ nœ œ
> nœ > nœ > >
Bcl
> > > > v.

^.
sfffz
> >> >
sffz pp sfffz fff sempre sfffz
> > > > j > bœj
Ó™
? 44 Œ n˙ nœ #˙ nœ nœ #œ œ nœ ™ nœ ™ œ bœ ™ Œ
œ nœ ™ nœ ™ œJ b œ ™ b Jœ n œ œ w ˙™
Bn
nœ #˙ nœ nœ#œ
Pf
>- >- >- >- > - >- > - >- più fff. v >-
“‘ 3
Ex. 4. Chiffre III, 17-22. Chorale-like style.
A completely different and more complex allusion to Baroque music

underlies the famous generative pole of Chiffre I, the vast piano right hand
soloist moment, lasting for twenty bars (bars 43-63, Ex. 5).
◊-.ÿ -
4 œœ
‹# œ ˙˙˙. ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
bœ^ b œ nœ^ nœ^ #œ b œ nœ^ b œ bœ^ b œ nœ^ b œ n œ bœ^ œ^ bœ^ b œ n œ nœ^ #œ^
Pf &4 æ æ
45 <◊>
ff pp 5 ff sfffz 3
fff (marcatissimo)
3 3 3 3
^ b œ^ œ^ œ^ #œ^ nnœœ^ ^ ^ n œ^ #œ^ œ^ ^ ^ ^ n œ^

&
nœ nœ bœ #œ œ n œ^ #œ #œ nœ œ
nœ
<◊> ^ ^
3 3 3
3
46 b œ ^
n œ œœ œfi ^ #œ #œ^ œ^ nœ^
j
#œ^ ^ n œ^ ^ ^
nœ^ n œ œ nœ^ œ^ œ^ >œ
& nœ #œ œ nœ^ # œ bœ bœ
3 3 3 (fff sempre) 3
Ex. 5. Chiffre I, 43-46. Piano, right hand.
Unfamiliar to Baroque here is the extreme high register, but a closer look
reveals different Baroque characteristics, such as the almost constant
trochaic metre and the concept of Fortspinnung. In bar 44/1-2,9 in the
alternation between chromatic notes (f#-f§-eb-e§) and a repeated note (ab):
these alternative chromatic notes normally form an unbroken line, a
Baroque formula, where Rihm varies with broken chromaticism. This
characteristic makes it possible to discern a dialogue between a higher and
a lower “instrument”. Even the small ornament is not missing: the
acciaccatura in bar 46/1. The harmonic rhythm respects the beats and is
rather slow. It is not per chord, but following the emphasised pitches, the
focal pitches: ab in bars 43-44, shifting to bb in bar 45/1-2.
This long soloist passage is not an isolated case: later in Chiffre I
ornaments are played by the piano, such as the gruppetto or turn, which I
consider as a Baroque element in this context. Rihm used the turn earlier at
different places in his Third String Quartet, Im Innersten (among others in
the first movement, bars 4, 8; fourth movement, bar 44), as described by
Eike Fess and Joachim Brügge.10 However, following Fess, the gruppetto
could be an allusion to Bruckner where it forms a basic component in his
symphonies, to Wagner where it is a returning emotional affirmative
formulation and to Mahler’s Symphonies no. 4 (3rd movement) and no. 9
(3rd and 4th movements). For Mahler, the opening and main motive of Der
Abschied, the finale of Das Lied von der Erde must be added.
This gruppetto is prolonged in the chorale-like style and therefore
Baroque in my opinion, becoming a melodic element with irregular
waveform in the Chiffre cycle, in Chiffre II and III (see Ex. 3, p. 78; Ex. 4,
80 Part I – Style
p. 78), again in a larger rhythm as was the case in the very first presentation
of an important melodic figure in Chiffre I (Ex. 6, see p. 243ff.). Knowing
that Rihm likes a personal touch, this turn is irregular: g-bb-ab-g-a-ab
instead of the symmetrical turn: ab-bb-ab-g-ab or a-bb-a-g-a. In the same
way replacing pitch e by f in the following diminution (bar 141), the result
of the fast figure f-g-f-e-f is a classical turn.
“”
meno mosso,
nœ^nœnœ^nœ^>œ ™
pesante
Pf
^
j
Bcl-Bn-Vc1&2-Db Vc1&2-Db
4 j‰ Œ Ó
3
& 4 Œnn n n˙˙˙ bœ œbœ œ œ nœ- nœ ˙ b˙ ‰

3
˙ nœ œœ œ
n>œ >n>>
n b ˙˙
sffz pp mp ff mp f sffz pp ffff
Ex. 6. Chiffre I, 138-142.
“Hard” evidence is given by the bass clarinet in Chiffre III, where the turn
is suddenly in the foreground, in fast rhythm c#-d-c#-b#-c#, in polyphony
with the dance-like melodic element in the English horn (bars 98-103; with
the turn in bar 101/2-3).
Another basic Baroque technique is Fortspinnung. Fortspinnung as in
Chiffre I (see Ex. 5, p. 79) deals with growth and the possibility or danger of
proliferation: Rihm’s terminology of Wuchs and Wildwuchs. In this way,
Fortspinnung could be interpreted as the invisible although audible
mycelium, while the fruits or mushrooms are the unexpected suddenly
appearing and surprising moments in the piano right hand soloist passage.
Examples of these unique moments are: the left hand reinforces the right
hand (bars 47/3-48/2), the melodic Fortspinnung is interrupted by a
moment of repetition in the ongoing trochaic metre (bars 53/3-4, 55/2-
57/1), an instrument adds a repeated note for a short moment (clarinet in
bars 56/2-3, 57/4-58/1), or all instruments join in a fast ascending gesture
(bar 60/3-4). I compare this to the first movement of Bach’s Third
Brandenburg Concerto; where the Fortspinnung with its steady anapaest
metre suddenly results in unique homorhythmic moments, chordal or
chromatically shifting, which are indeed never repeated, which is quite
exceptional for Baroque music.11
Allusion to a Composer: Varèse

Whenever Rihm lists important and influential composers, Varèse is at the
top of the list. By accident Rihm found a recording of Arcana in 1970 and
was very impressed by it.12 Listening to Arcana, he recognised his own
musical journey: “[o]n first hearing it was completely clear to me: this is
something I am myself looking for.” Rihm emphasises that it concerned
only his musical search, not the spiritual content of Varèse’s music: he
admires Varèse for his “concept, search and hope”. Several times Rihm
summarises Varèse’s most important musical issues: “[m]asses, states,
bodies and figure”, and “[s]ound of the sounding as visual, tactile, sounding
sculpture” and his “plastic-direct invention of sound and sound objects”.
He defines Varèse’s composing as physical and present and therefore feels
very related to his colleague. As an example, he describes the “culminating
ending of Amériques.”
There is also a link between Varèse and Artaud. For a short period in
1932, Varése and Artaud tried to collaborate on a music theatre project: Il
n’y a plus de firmament. Here Rihm found his title Kein Firmament (1988,
for small orchestra). Silence to be Beaten, the title of Chiffre II was borrowed
from Varèse in a purely musical way, but belongs also to the world of
Artaud’s cruauté, as previously mentioned. According to Rihm, this is an
indication found frequently for general pauses on Varèse’s scores, asking
for continued conducting during the general pause. This instruction is
found in the empty bar just before the end of Varèse’s Arcana.13
After the 1980s, Form/Zwei Formen, composed in 1993-94, is related to
Varèse’s Déserts, because it was meant to be a homage for the fortieth
anniversary of the controversial premiere of Varèse’s Déserts. Where Déserts
“functioned as a model for the scoring”, Hyperprism “served Rihm’s work as
the basis of a ‘contrafactum’” for “the structure of the tempi and that of the
metrical units and bar groupings”, which are identical to Hyperprism.14
In many ways Varèse functions as an example of Rihm’s search for
intuitive, non-system-based composing in the 1980s. Rihm puts it clearly
and boldly, saying that Edgard Varèse makes “imaginable non-systematic
music of ‘pure invention and feeling’”.15 Put differently in his essay on
Busoni: following Rihm, Varèse has realised the concept of “unchained
music”, the dream of Busoni in his Entwurf einer Ästhetik der Neuen
Musik.16
82 Part I – Style
Rihm composes specific allusions to Varèse and quotations, even

overwritten quotations, mostly borrowed from Densité 21,5 and Octandre.
At the very end of the Chiffre cycle, the first melodic element of Chiffre VIII
(bar 6) is clearly a transposed quotation of the opening motif of Varèse’s
Octandre. Rihm uses e(-13)eb(+11)d (Ex. 7),17 which is a transposition a
diminished third lower of Varèse’s figure starting on gb: gb(-13)f(+11)e(-2)
d# (Ex. 8). Rihm’s final note should be c# and is missing in the bass clarinet,
but present as a harmonic in the second violoncello.
Wie ein Hauch nœ nœ œ

? 45 Ó ‰ bœ R ≈ ‰ ∑
Ȯ ™™
Bcl
°B 5
arco ord.n O
#œ
ppp
4Ó Ó Ó
Ȯ ™™
Vc1
## Oœ
ppp
?5
¢ 4Ó
arco ord.
Vc2 Ó Ó
ppp
Ex. 7. Chiffre VIII, 6-7.
Assez lent
bœ ˙
Ob & 44 œ™
#œ
Ex. 8. Varèse, Octandre, 1st movement, 1-2.
Rihm adds the indication Wie ein Hauch, at the same time suggesting that
this is an important melodic element.
The high trumpet solo near the end of Bild (bars 132-148) with its
preparation (bars 126-131) and continuation (bars 149-160) shows some
clear allusions to Varèse’s flute solo Densité 21,5, and indeed certain
elements are generated from the flute solo.
- Bild, bar 127. The preparation of the trumpet solo is marked by

ascending intervals: f#(+7)c#(+3)e (Ex. 9). These pitches are also found
in the flute’s opening cell (Ex. 10).
- Reaching the highest register in bars 32-36, the flute several times
repeats b(+7)f#(+3)a, which returns as transposed quotation in the
trumpet (Ex. 11, compared to Ex. 9).
>
# œ^. n œ ˙
>
4 #˙ ˙ ˙™ J ‰ J
n>œ #>œ n œ^ #>œ ™ > ^. ^. ^.
&4 nœ^ nœ nœ #œ nœ
Htpt
3
J
fff pp ff sffz sffz p ff sfffz p sfffz p ff 3
Ex. 9. Bild, 126-129. Boxed: ascending intervals.
4
œ # œ ™ #œ œ Ó
3
Fl & 4 œ- œ #œ ˙™ ˙ ˙
mf f mf p f
Ex. 10. Varèse, Densité 21,5, 1-3. Boxed: pitches identical with Ex. 9.
œ™ “” q = 72œ ˙™
#œ ™ œ , #œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ™ œ œ
q = 60
œ œ #œ
Fl
4J
&4 œ œ œ œ œ œ
“>”
fff 3 3 3
3 3
>œ ˙q = 60
35
œ #œ œ œ œ œ >œ >
& J œ œ œ. ≈ R
3 3
J
fff
Ex. 11. Varèse, Densité 21,5, 32-36.
-B
ild, bars 128-129 (Ex. 9). In the next bars of the solo preparation, the
trumpet is similar to the flute in bars 18-21 (Ex. 12). The trumpet’s
figure is based on the pitches g-g#-a-b; the flute uses the chromatic
aggregate g#-a-a#-b. The flute continues with the chromatic aggregate
b-b#-c#-d, while the trumpet goes on with b-d-d#.
#˙ #˙ ˙ œ
3 j >
4
&4 ˙ œ #œ œ. œ œ nœ œ #œ ‰ œ ˙ J ‰ Œ
Fl
J
p sub. p f ff

84 Part I – Style
-A
t different places, Varèse changes abruptly from sharpened to
flattened notes: in bars 7 and 13, Ex. 13, further in bars 38 and 56.
Rihm does the same in bars 130-150: all altered notes in the trumpet
are flats (Ex. 14), while sharps were used before (Ex. 9).
-A
large part of the trumpet solo is an expansion over fifteen bars (bars
132-146, Ex. 14) of one bar borrowed from Varèse: bar 13 (Ex. 13),
using a-bb-e, enlarged by the trumpet by chromatic additions,
becoming ab-a-bb-b-eb-e in the course of the solo. Great ascending
leaps occur in both pieces: a(+13)bb in the flute (bar 13) and a(+14)b
in the trumpet (bar 138) followed by the extreme reduction to a(+1)bb
(bar 140, earlier also in bars 132-136), comparable to the flute (bar 6).
,3
œ œ bœ œj bœ ™
4
3
, bœ œ ˙ œ ≈œ
& 4 ‰ -œ œ- œ bœ ˙ ˙ œ J R
#œ
Fl
, œ bœ™ œ ™
mf p subito f ff mf subito
˙ œ
bœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ n˙ ™ œ #Jœ œ j œ ™#œ œj #œ ™
10
œ J‰Œ
& J #œ #œ
3 3 3 3
fff f 3 ff
bw n˙ b >œ w w œ™ n œ^. b >œ ˙ ˙ b w-

Htpt
4
&4 Œ Œ R R
3 3
b >œ
fff sfffz sfffz sfffz pp
138 nœ œ w n>œ b œ ˙™ ˙™
& Ó nœ J ‰
>-
 œ ™
3 3
œ n œ b >˙
fff sfffz pp, sub. fff
nœ w w w bœ-^ -^ ‰
142
& j nœ
bœ -œ
> pp fff 3
Ex. 14. Bild, 132-146.
-B
ild, bar 146: the trumpet solo concludes with a fall: e(-8)a♭(-5)eb(-6)
a, avoiding octave doubles (Ex. 14). Varèse uses the same principle
although with octave doubling of g# in bars 11-12 (Ex. 13).
-A
fter the solo, the trumpet continues with broken chromaticism (bars
149-154), which cannot be considered as generated from Varèse as
such, although it could be viewed as a more general allusion to Varèse’s
frequent use of broken chromaticism in Densité 21,5, started already
in the opening bars (Ex. 10).
-R
esemblance more than allusion: the trumpet ends with a quasi-
repeated melodic element f#(-4)d(+11)c#(-17)g#, the second time the
first note is omitted (bars 154-160, Ex. 15). The resulting tritone d-g#
was also found in Varèse’s flute composition (bars 11-12, Ex. 13). The
trumpet’s perfect fourth c#(-5)g# can be linked to the perfect fourth of
the flute’s opening cell c#(+5)f# (Ex. 10). In a completely different
context and very contrastingly, Varèse combines almost the same
pitches in bars 26-30 (Ex. 16): c#, d and g# in bars 26-28, f# is
accentuated afterwards.
-M
ore general allusions concern the intense use of dynamic changes in
both composers’ works.
n>œ # œ œ™ #œ œ œ
4 #œ nœ r
Htpt &4 #œ. ≈ ‰ Ó ∑
fff pp mf 3 pp v
sfffz
#>œ ˙
œ™
157
& Œ ‰ nJœ ˙ w œ
J #œ ‰ Ó
3 >
ppp fff sub. pp
Ex. 15. Bild, 154-160.
+ +. + + + ++ +
4œ œ j 5 œ b>œ 3
& 4 R ≈ ‰ Œ ‰ ‰ # œj J ‰ Œ # œ œ #>œ ‰ Œ 4 ‰ #œ Œ œ ‰ J Œ 4
3
Fl
> > > 3
-
>
mp mp mp p mp
>œ # œ œ # œ >
œ œ
#>œ ™ œ #œ ‰ #œ ≈ >œ œ #œ ÆœJ œ œ
29
&4
3 J
44 œ
ff ff ff 3

86 Part I – Style
Putting a fall (almost) at the end of a composition is also a characteristic

shared by Rihm and Varèse. The most intense falling end is found in Varèse’s
Intégrales, where the brass instruments end with a great variety of
descending intervals: tritone, octave plus augmented second, octave plus
major sixth or augmented sixth, octave plus major seventh (Ex. 17).
Moreover, the last chord is played “bells up” (pavillons en l’air).
° 5 pavillons en l'air
U
Hn &4 œ œ œ j ‰ Œ Ó Œ
œ œ ˙ œ
>
# œœ œ œ sff pp molto
j
sffff
U
5 # œ œ
Tpt &4 bœ œ ˙ bœ ‰ Œ Ó Œ
#>œ œ ˙ #œ
œ œœ œœ U
? 45 œ
sff pp molto sffff
j
Trbn
œœ œœ ˙˙ œœ ‰ Œ Ó Œ
>
?5
sff pp molto sffff U
Btrbn
¢ 4 #œ œ œ j ‰ Œ Ó Œ
œ œ ˙ œ
>
sff pp molto sffff
Ex. 17. Varèse, Intégrales, final bars.
Comparable falls are found in Rihm’s Chiffre cycle:
-C
hiffre III, bars 151-152, final bars (Ex. 18). Not only does the fall
return; the whole final passage is marked by similarities. In both cases,
an ascending movement is followed by a percussion intervention
ending with a fall, which is in unison in Rihm’s case and quasi-
homorhythmical in Varèse’s.18
a tempo (q = 80)
,
œ n˙ ™
accelerando
-œ n˙
n˙ ™
4 j‰
3
& 4 n˙ n˙ ˙ b˙ n˙ nœ œ.
> >
Eh
ffff sfffz p ffff p
Ex. 18. Chiffre III, 148-152. Eh, unison with some mutations by bcl, bn, hn, btpt,
trbn, vc1, vc2, db.
-C
hiffre II, bars 231-234 opening the last section, 18 bars before the end
of the piece (Ex. 19). Symmetry is combined with descending leaps.
4 j ‰ Œ Ó n-˙ b˙- >

nœ- nœ
3 3
Fl
Eh & 4 nw nœw- ˙
p pp nw
>
sfz sfz pp
Ex. 19. Chiffre II, 231-234.
Opposite to the fall, both composers show a preference for fast ascending
gestures. Furthermore, Varèse and Rihm share the predilection for
percussion, more specifically for exceptional instruments, such as the anvil
in Chiffre II, III and V and the lion’s roar in Chiffre III, VII and Bild. Varèse
uses anvils in Ionisation and Hyperprism. The lion’s roar or tambour à cordes
is found in Intégrales, Ionisation, Hyperprism, Amériques, Arcana and
Offrandes. Both composers also share the bringing in of sudden pulsating
rhythms, confirming the beat and metre, as opposed to the practice of
composing free rhythm. Both show a preference for the lowest registers of
bass instruments, for instance trombone or double bass.
Allusion to a Composition: Schubert’s Octet

On the occasion of its first performance, Chiffre VI was performed together
with Schubert’s Octet in F major, D 803. As explained at the beginning of
this chapter, Rihm often makes use of such an occasion to work out allusions
to his colleague’s work. Moreover, in Rihm’s compositions of the 1970s
Schubert was prominent: Erscheinung, Skizze über Schubert and Ländler.
More recently, Schubert reappears in the Ninth String Quartet (1992-93)
with its subtitle reference Quartettsatz and in Rihm’s arrangement of Der
Wanderer, D 489, dated 1997.19
One of the most striking and original moments of Schubert’s Octet is
the beginning of the sixth movement, the finale: Andante molto – Allegro
– Andante molto – Allegro molto. The opening Andante molto of only
seventeen bars is full of modulations; it starts with a full bar tremolo in the
cello solo (Ex. 20); the tremolo is continued until bar 14, alternating between
88 Part I – Style
°q? ææ poss.
q = 60 Flzg poss.
Bcl°
4 ∑
nææ>˙ r ≈‰ Œ
44 4∑
= 60 Flzg
? nw n œ. r ≈ ‰ Œ
Bcl
n w pp n ˙
> ^. sfffz nvœ
Cbn °? 4
j .
ffff subito
r ≈‰Œ Ó ffff‰ææsubito #>œj

?4 nœ ≈ ‰ sfffz Óv
¢‹ 4 4 ∑
q = 60 pp Flzg poss.
^
Bcl ? œR. ≈ ‰
nsfffz Ór ≈ ‰ Œ
¢‹ 4 n w nw
rœ
.pp ≈‰Œ Ó ‰
n ˙ # œ R n œ.
Cbn
> > > >
fff
nw œsfffz sfffz v
?ffff4> ≈‰Œ Ó sfffz >. ≈‰Œ ^
nœŒ. ≈ ‰
ffff
∑ Ó ‰r ≈ #œ‰j
ffff subito fff sfffz
¢
Ó
?‹ 44 n wœ.≈‰Œ Ó œ ∑
Hn 4 r r n œ R
. ≈ fff‰>
Cbn
r>v sfffz >. sfffz vr Œ Ó
Hn
nœ. r sfffz
? n
4 œ
‹? 44v sfffz
.
ffff sfffz≈‰Œ Ó
r v
n œ ≈ ‰ Œ Ó
v.rr ≈ ‰
sfffz
Hn ? 4 4 n wr ≈‰Œ Ó œ ∑ Œ Ó
Db
‹ 4 > r
>. ≈‰Œ Ó sfffznnœ.œ. ≈ ‰ Œ Ó
nffff
œ. sfffz
°? 4n4w
Db
œ. sfffz sfffz r v v >
n#Ȯ
v non dim. sfffz
4> ∑ > r ≈‰Œ ∑ Ó nœÓ ≈ ‰
° ‹ 4 ffffn wnon dim. sfffz n#Ó>Ȯ
DbI & 4 Œ
v.
Vn
Vn I & 4 > ∑ œ. ∑ Ó sfffz fff pp

>sfffz
Vn II °& 4
>
sfffz
4
4 ∑∑ ffff non dim. ∑ n#∑Ȯsfffz fff pp
Vn I & 4 ∑ Ó
Vn II & 4
4 ∑ ∑ ∑ martellato
4 ∑
pp
Va B 4 ∑ Ó Œ
sfffz fff
4 nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
Vn II & 4
4 ∑∑ ∑ ∑ ffff v v v v v v v v
martellato
Va B 4 ∑ sul p. Óord. martellato Œ r
? 4
¢B 44 ∑ ∑ n œ œ ® r nœ K ffff nœ
n. œv œv≈œv œv‰ œv œv œv œv
Vc
n œ n œ # œ b œ n œ œœœ œ # œ n œ bœ v
martellato
? 44 w ∑sul p. ord. Óv n œmartellato Œ

v # œv v v n>œ v v v v v v v ®v Krn vœ v #>œ œ v v v n œnœœr œ≈œ œ‰œ œ œ
¢ 4 ∑
Va
pp
n œ b œ n œ œ nœ #œ n œ v .v v v v v v v
w sul p.nœvord. œv v #œv n>œ v v nœv v vœœœ v v œvK n vœ v #>œ œ v v b œv rv
Vc ffff
n œv #martellato
ffff subito
? 44 ∑
=¢
bœnœ œ ® r #œnœ .
nœ ≈ ‰
nœv nsubitoœv # œv nœv #œv n>œ v v nœv v vœœœ nœ
v v œv n vœ v #>œ œ v v b œv v
Vc pp
w ffff
=
pp
ffff subito
= °4 non vibr. lange

U
? Ó Œ ‰ ≈ r nœ. ≈ Œ ‰ n-œ œ ∑
nœ œ v J
°?
Bcl
4
> non vibr. lange
U Flzg.
4?Ó Œ ‰ ≈ sfffz r œ. ≈ Œ U ‰ non
nsfffz n-œ lange œ ∑
Cbn ° æ
sfffz ppp
¢‹? Ó ∑æ
Bcl
∑ nœ œ v ∑ J
vibr.
U
Œ ‰ ≈ >r nœ. ≈ Œ ‰ n-œ œ b w
Bcl
n œ œ v U J ppp >Flzg.
U Flzg.ææ
?
sfffz sfffz sfffz
¢‹ ? ∑ > ∑ +
U ‰ sfffzœ^.ppp
ffff (non dim.)
∑æb w
Cbn sfffz sfffz
¢‹
Ó ≈Œ
æffff> (non dim.)
Hn
Cbn ∑ ∑ R+
«
arco,b w
^ U >
‰r ≈ ‰+^œ. U
sfffz sehr
HnDb ?
? ∑∑ ÓÓ Œ≈Œ ffffæ ∑(non dim.)
∑æ sehr
pizz.
‹
dichtes Tremolo
? . R U
∑ Ó n œ‰ œsfffz
≈Œ ord.arco,
pizz.v. «sfffz R
nw
>O n >O b O O ^. nsul ^. pont. b Oœ^. U
Hn
U
Db °
narco,
Oœdichtes
? n n O O b pizz. Œ« r ≈ ‰ U
nŒdichtes∑sehræTremolo
‹ æ
nœ nœ
Tremolo
#œ nœ nœ∑ œ Ó sfffz ffff (non dim.)
R
ord.æ
Vn I ? & Œ R ≈ R ≈ ‰ ≈ Œ ‰
‹ 3 Uæ
∑ Ó n œr. ≈ ‰ Œ nw
>3 p Oœ^.^ nnsul Oœ^^. pont. O^.
Db sul pont.
° n#>Oœ npnOœsfffz n œ. v sfffz

bnOœ Oœ nn sfffz sfffz
b bsfffz
^œ ppn On wffff (non dim.)
n œ
sfffz
> . . ^. U
ord.
° Œ n#>>Oœ n >O bnOœ Oœ bO vŒ sfffz n Oœ ffff∑(non dim.)

Vn I & nnROœO^.≈ nnROœO^. ≈ ‰ bnn OœœRR. ≈ Œ bn‰U
ord.
O
sul pont.
VnIII & Œ # Oœ n3nœOœ n Oœ Oœ ##sfffz

Rœ≈ sfffz Rœ ≈ ‰ R ≈ Œ Œ ‰ bœ3 ∑
R R
Vn sfffz
sfffz p sfffz p pp
3 sfffz sfffz
n O^.
sfffz 3
U
^
3
p> ^
pp ord.
> . . bOœObOœ ∑
sfffz p sfffz
3 p sfffz sul pont.
nn O^œ.
sfffz sfffz pp
U
##Oœ#>OnnOœn>OnnOœnO OœO ###OœO^.≈ sulOœO^. pont. sfffz b‰bU
sfffz sfffz p ord.
Vn II & Œ ≈ ‰ n œR ≈ Œ Œ b œ
II & Œ
B ≈ # œŒ n œ n œ œ ‰# Rœ‰ ≈ Rœ≈ ≈ ‰ R ≈ ‰Œ Œ r ≈‰‰ ∑
VnVa
n œv œv œv œv œv œv 3 n œv œv œv œv sfffz R sfffz R œ œ n œ œ œ œ sfffz œv œv œv œv n œv œv œv œv œv œv œv œv œ. 33 3pp
v v v v v v v U
bO
sfffz p sfffz 3 p pp
^ ^ ^sfffzUbbU Oœ œ æ ∑
sfffz sfffz ord. sfffz pp
? Ó≈ nœ. ≈ ‰‰ œ. ≈ ‰ œ. ≈Œ
¢ œv œv Rœv œv œv œv‰ nRœv œv œv œv œv œv œv œvRrœ.≈‰ 3 n w∑>æ
sfffz p sfffz p
VaVc B Œ Œ ‰ ‰‰ ≈ ‰ nsfffz r ≈‰
b
Va B n œv œv ≈œv œv œv œv Œ n œv œv œv œv ‰ ‰ n ≈œ. œ.v œv n œvsulœv pont.
n œv œv œv œv œv œv n œv œv œv œv v œ
v œ n œ
ord. v v v v v v sfffz
œ œ œ œv œv œv œv nsfffz œv œv œv œv œv œv œv œv sfffz œ. v 3 ppffff (non dim.)
^. ^. v ^. Uppsehr dichtes
ææn wææ
?
¢ ? Ó Œ ‰ ord.sfffz
sfffz
‰ n ^œ ≈
. ≈ ‰ œ. ≈ ‰ ‰ ^œ ≈ ‰ ^.nœ U≈Œ Tremolo
¢ Ó Œ ‰ ‰ n œR R n œ R≈Œ
Vc
Vc
nnœœ. œœ. sul sul pont.R R R nw > (non dim.)
Ex. 21. Chiffre VI, 1-6. vv. vv. pont.
sfffz sfffz sfffz >ffff
sfffz sfffz sfffz sfffz sfffz ffff (non dim.)
sehr dichtes
sfffz sfffz sehr dichtes
Tremolo
Tremolo
the cello and the group of violins and viola. With the return of the Andante
molto for six bars (bars 370-375), the tremolos are also recalled for four
bars. Schubert’s tremolo is peculiar by its dynamics: always changing from
pp to f and back to p, with sudden contrasts from p to f, p to ff. The second
Andante molto starts with ffp, followed by crescendos and diminuendos
between p and ff. Such nervous changes in dynamics are also typical of
Rihm.
œœ œœ ™™™™ œœ œœj ™ œœ œœ ™™™™ œœ œœj

Kr Kr
° b bc Andante molto ™
‰ ≈ œ œ ™™ ≈ œ œ ™™
&b b Ó œ œ ™™ œœ œ œ ™™ œœ œœ
Œ ‰
œœ
Vn1-Vn2-Va
Cl-Hn
? bb ææ ææ ææ ææ
f p f p
Vc
¢ bbc ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
pp f p f p
Ex. 20. Schubert, Octet, Finale, 1-2.
Rihm opens Chiffre VI in a comparable way: not with a tremolo, but with a
low sustained note in the contra bassoon and the double bass (bar 1) and a
rough timbre, with sul ponticello in the cello (bar 2) and Flatterzunge in the
bass clarinet (bar 3). The tremolo is postponed until bar 6, where the timbre
is again rough: a low full bar cluster bb-b-c with Flatterzunge in the contra
bassoon and sehr dichtes Tremolo in double bass and cello, all ffff and non
diminuendo (Ex. 21).
The first melodic motif of Schubert’s introduction consists of dotted
figures with descending-ascending major second steps, homorhythmic in
parallel thirds in the clarinet, horn, bassoon, first and second violin and
viola (bar 2 with anacrusis, Ex. 20; returning in bar 6). In bar 4 of Chiffre VI,
Rihm alludes to this: harmonics in parallel thirds by the violins, although
with one different interval: the descending major second is followed by an
ascending minor second: f#(-2)e(+1)f§ instead of Schubert’s f(-2)eb(+2)f.
There is no dotted rhythm in Chiffre VI but the middle note is very short.
Rihm continues with a repeated note followed by an ascending minor
second (only in the first violin), and rests in between (g(0)g(+1)ab, bars
4-5). In doing so, he refers to Schubert’s second melodic motif (bars 11-12,
wind instruments, Ex. 22), which consists of a repeated note followed by an
ascending second.
90 Part I – Style
Kr
≈™ ≈ ™ #nœœ œœ
Kr
bb
nœœ œœ nœœj ‰ j
nœœ ‰
Cl
Hn &b b c ‰ RÔ J
Œ ‰
RÔ J
Œ
pp
œbœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœœœœœœœœœ
b c ® œbœbœ J ‰ ® œ œœ J ‰
Vn1 & bœbœ œœ
ff p ff p
Ex. 23. Schubert, Octet, Finale, 371.
n>œ U
w- Glissando
langsames qualvolles
Cl
4
&4 Ó Œ Œ ∑
≤
- -œ≤ n œ-≤ n -œ # -œ≤ n -œ ,
ord. b≤œ
≤
° 4
3
fff
U
Vn1 &4 ∑ ∑ ‰ Œ
ff 3
≤ ≤ ≤ ≤ ≤- -≤ ,
U ord. n œ- -œ b œ- n -œ n œ # œ
Vn2 & 44 ∑ ∑ ‰ Œ
ff 3
≤ ≤ ≤ -≤ ≤ -≤ ,
U ord.
#œ- -œ n -œ b œ n -œ n œ
Va B 44 ∑ ∑ & ‰ Œ
ff 3
≤ ≤ ≤ ≤ ≤- ≤ ,
?4 U ord.
nœ- -œ #-œ n -œ b œ n -œ
Vc
¢ 4 ∑ ∑ & ‰ Œ
ff 3
Ex. 24. Chiffre VI, 81-83, final bars.
. . . . . .
œ . œ œ œ œ bœ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ
Vn1
& b C œœœœ œ œ œ
œ œ œ œ œ bœ œ nœ nœ œ œ œ œ
Va
œ œ œ . . .
. . . .
p cresc. - - -

From the second to the final bar in the returning Andante molto, Schubert
adds extremely fast ascending arpeggios ending on a repeated note in the
first violin (bar 371, Ex. 23). Rihm gives the cello a kind of irregular broken
chord ending on a repeated note in the first half of bar 3; it is immediately
varied in the second half of the bar, continued this time by a much longer
repeated note on the viola. Throughout the whole score, this combination
of hectic movement ending on a repeated note returns several times on
different instruments. Although the viola champions the repeated note,
sometimes it is in the same instrument as the hectic movement.
Rihm ends Chiffre VI with a slow and “painful” ascending glissando in
the clarinet followed by a series of clusters in the string quartet, ascending
by chromatic steps from g-bb to b-d (Ex. 24). This is his last “homage”
allusion to Schubert who prepares for the return of the Andante molto with
an ascending scale on the first violin, doubled an octave lower by the viola,
including chromatic steps (Ex. 25). This is another example of Rihm’s
preference for a surprising or unexpected ending to a composition: the
allusion to Schubert and the “romantic” concept of ascending chromaticism
in crescendo is indeed not the finishing of something but the creation of an
expectation, towards an aim. While unfulfilled, this could literally be “an
open ending”.
4
Fine Arts
M any of Rihm’s compositions bear a title referring to the fine arts; to

give some examples: Bild, eine Chiffre, part of the Chiffre cycle;
Bildnis: Anakreon; Diptychon (2006-07); En plein air (2004/05), referring to
plein-airism; Gebild; Nature Morte – Still Alive (1979-80); Ohne Titel, String
Quartet no. 5; Ungemaltes Bild (1988-90); Gedicht des Malers (2014). The
Über die Linie I-VIII series, research of the line, can be added, knowing that
the linear is stressed in plural: “lines, lifelines and growth, or development
from a germ cell”.1 Other titles refer to colours: Das Rot, Schwarzer und
roter Tanz, a fragment from Tutuguri. Also there are subtitles related to
arts, such as Schattenstück, a Tongemälde for orchestra (1982-84).
Rihm’s fascination for fine arts is wide in range, from his admiration for
masterpieces in museums, galleries and expositions to his attempts to
consider a composition as a drawing or a painting. An important question
is whether there is more than the classical inspiration by fine arts, more
than the parallelism or the mirror of the experience of images in his music.
Starting with the anecdotic, for instance, Rihm writes “Schnell mein
Lieblingsphoto von Beuys” next to this photo in ausgesprochen, at the
moment he is asking himself whether he can find a kind of expression that
could sound as music instead of “composing music”. In a critical way and
not without humour, at the end of his essay L’art pour l’art, Rihm quotes the
painter Arnulf Rainer, the key inspiration for his overpainting technique:
“Authentic art is verifiable by three categories: particular form and colour
quality, radiating drawing delight and blooming phantasy.” This brings
Rihm to the conclusion that composers were better off when they were
occupying themselves with painting…2
Serious considerations on the relationship between music and painting
are numerous, for instance when Rihm asks himself: “What happens when
I mix colours when writing music, draw fine lines, sharpen contours,
arrange surfaces and work out perspectives?”3 This composer is not looking
93
94 Part I – Style
for analogous possibilities in the transfer of painting on music: he is trying

to overcome the simple and evident solutions, such as comparing a line in
painting to a melodic line, a painted shape to a similar melodic shape. In
fact, Rihm tries to find out how he can compose starting from an optical
dimension, not from existing images, but from the Umsetzung or
“implementation” of surfaces, of the strokes by the burin or the brush, an
implementation touching all possibilities in the field of the musical texture.
For Rihm, perspective gains a certain temporality; colour as timbre is
essential, making the answer to the next question obvious: “What is colour
in composing? Sauce or the main thing.”4 How does it work, how can it be
done, from the optical to the aural?
The Music of Painting

The literature and studies on the relations between music and visual arts
have rarely used the approach chosen by Rihm. Mostly it is about visual
artists who are inspired by music in their artworks and/or theoretical
writings; these artists are looking for a pictorial analogy to music.
Composers inspired by painting almost always refer to a kind of programme
music, a composition with a painting reference in the title, for instance.
When Peter Vergo describes Debussy and Feldman in his voluminous
study The Music of Painting,5 his ideas are much more original and approach
Rihm’s conception. Vergo says that Debussy is an example of a musician
influenced by ideas about arts, more specifically by the notion of the visual
arabesque. Debussy’s arabesque may be compared to Rihm’s notion of
melody as a “line drawing in time” (Linienzeichnung in der Zeit). Both
artists try to transpose an optical dimension into their musical world. And
this is not the only parallel between Debussy and Rihm. The art critic
Camille Mauclair compared Debussy to Monet in his Musique des couleurs:
“... based not on a succession of themes but on the relative values of sounds
themselves... It is Impressionism, which consists of sonorous spots.” This
corresponds to Rihm’s concept of Farbe. In his programme note for the
premiere of La Mer, the author (whose name remains unknown) refers to
the “palette of sounds” wielded by Debussy; he saw the composer as a
painter whose “deft brushstrokes combined all the gradations of rare and
brilliant colours so as to capture the play of light and shade and the
4 – Fine Arts 95
chiaroscuro of the endlessly changing seascape”. The subject was not the
painting of the sea, but the play of light and shadow, of gradually changing
colours in “deft brushstrokes”, which Rihm describes as Strich and Hieb.
According to Vergo, Morton Feldman was one of the composers who
looked for a more refined relation with visual arts.
Feldman did not … believe that music should emulate painting or

strive to attain similar goals. On the contrary, he believed music to be
fundamentally different from painting and that there was no point in
composers attempting to do the equivalent of what visual artists had
done, since the painter ‘achieves mastery by allowing what he is doing
to be itself ’.
As an example, Vergo explains how Feldman in Rothko Chapel did not seek
to imitate or evoke the style of his friend Mark Rothko.
In an essay about his composition, Feldman explained that he had

written the work with the Rothko Chapel in Houston, the artist’s last
project, specifically in mind. He also confirmed that his choice of
instruments, especially their balance and timbre, had been affected by
the architectural space of the chapel as well as by Rothko’s paintings
displayed around the walls. But when it comes to analysing the music
itself, the listener soon finds that other, equally important sources of
inspiration have been at work.
Following Vergo, these other sources are, for example, a synagogue-like

melody for solo viola and Feldman’s typical collage-like technique, inspired
not by Rothko but by Robert Rauschenberg, especially by his photomontages.
Nevertheless, it is my opinion that Feldman tried to get more inspiration
from Rothko and the chapel than Vergo seems to want to admit. Not only
was the instrumental choice inspired by the architectural space, but
Feldman also searched for a pendant for the paintings in his music on
different levels, as he explained in his essay on Rothko Chapel.
Rothko’s imagery goes right to the edge of his canvas, and I wanted the
same effect with the music – that it should permeate the whole
octagonal-shaped room and not be heard from a certain distance. …
96 Part I – Style
The total rhythm of the paintings as Rothko arranged them created an

unbroken continuity. While it was possible with the paintings to
reiterate colour and scale and still retain dramatic interest, I felt that
the music called for a series of highly contrasted merging sections. I
envisaged an immobile procession not unlike the friezes on Greek
temples.6
When Rihm thinks of painting, it is clear that Rothko’s colour field can be
involved. Feldman’s immobile procession as a musical answer to Rothko
could refer to the states or Zustände Rihm tries to create in music. However,
it is my conviction that Rihm goes even further than his colleagues.
Fine Arts Parallels: Different Viewpoints

Is Ohne Titel or “Untitled” the title of the Fifth String Quartet more than a
clever word game? Ohne Titel is not an isolated case on Rihm’s work list.
Comparable synonymous titles are the series Unbenannt (Unbenannt I-III,
for orchestra, 1986, 1987 and 1989-1990, respectively, Unbenannt IV for
organ, 2002-03/04) and Sine nomine (1985), a study for five brass
instruments. For Dieter Rexroth, titles such as Ohne Titel, Unbenannt and
Sine nomine leave everything open and make questioning possible,
questions concerning the problematic unity between work and title,
questions on the urge for reflection on the secret character of art, and
questions on the understandability of the artwork.7
Ulrich Dibelius’s opinion is quite the opposite. According to him the
addition of Ohne Titel denies and rules out all possible extra-musical
references, all possible questions. “Untitled” deepens the concentration on
the sound itself. As a matter of fact, Dibelius argues that this is completely
analogous to painting: the refusal of a title implies that the painter is
pressing for full concentration on the painting as such, on the artistic
outcome, without a figurative, narrative or referential component, without
the need for understandability. In his opinion, the same goes for Rihm’s
“untitled” music compositions.8
Ulrich Mosch argues that Rihm’s visual experiences became sound in
his music. To give a concrete example, Mosch refers to Rihm’s assertion that
there was a lot of eavesdropping in connection with his friend the painter
4 – Fine Arts 97
Kurt Kocherscheidt. In a more general way, Mosch explains how early in

the 20th century painters, Kandinsky for instance, not only borrowed
musical terminology for the titles of their works, but also built their
theoretical framework on musical concepts, such as sound and image
rhythm, and form polyphony. And now Mosch sees the opposite direction
in Rihm’s viewpoints: a composer who talks about his own music and his
compositional process in terms borrowed from the atmosphere of fine arts.
Another interesting approach is the concept of the “haptic”, a term brought
into the discussion more than once by Rihm himself. Mosch points out that
musical material is directly manageable for Rihm. Sound has a physical or
bodily dimension, is tangible and can be modelled or given shape. Sound is
as haptic as the material of painting, and for Rihm it makes an integral
approach thinkable and possible: musical thinking as Ganzheitlichkeit,
nicht das Synthetische.9
Fine Arts Parallels: Rihm’s Viewpoints

Rihm refers to fine arts not only in his essays, such as Musik – Malerei. …
ungereimt, zur Kunst gedacht… or in his interviews, such as Varèse, Malerei
und Schaffensprozeß,10 but also in short comments on his compositions and
in general considerations. Fine arts really were the focus at the beginning of
the 1980s: the essay and the interview mentioned above date from 1981, the
year Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5, was begun.
Concerning the Neue Wilden for instance, the contemporary movement
of the German neo-expressionist painters in the 1970s, Rihm’s obsession
with fine arts becomes clear in all its aspects. Trying to understand why his
Third String Quartet, Im Innersten, had been reproached for being “fascist
music” on the occasion of its first performance in Royan in 1977, Rihm
compared himself to Georg Baselitz: it must have been a blame similar to
the one put on painters such as Baselitz and Markus Lüpertz.11 The essay
Musik vor Bildern (1990) was Rihm’s introduction for a concert programme
including his String Quartets nos. 3, 5 and 8 in the Museum Ludwig in
Cologne in a hall with paintings by Baselitz, Lüpertz, Kiefer, Penck and
others.12 In 2012, on the occasion of Rihm’s sixtieth birthday, his home
town of Karlsruhe organised not only concerts and other musical events,
but also an exhibition entitled Zeitgegenstände – Wolfgang Rihm, showing
98 Part I – Style
artworks with outstanding importance for the composer. Among them

were the neo-expressionists Baselitz, Lüpertz, next to Per Kirkeby, Kurt
Kocherscheidt and Arnulf Rainer.
Rihm took his inspiration from Markus Lüpertz in Figur (1989), from
Per Kirkeby in Schattenstück, a Tongemälde for orchestra, from the
expressionists Emil Nolde in Ungemaltes Bild and Max Beckmann in
Versuchung (Hommage à Max Beckmann) (2008-09) and Der Maler träumt
(2008-09), the last using Beckmann’s text On my Painting.13 In the violin
concerto Gedicht des Malers, Rihm casts the bow of the violin player as the
painter’s brush, creating a poem in music, a metaphor borrowed from
Beckmann. This detour leads to a musical/painted portrait of the Belgian
violinist Eugène Ysaÿe. Geste zu Vedova (2015, for string quartet) refers to
the Italian painter Emilio Vedova, considered as one of the most crucial
figures of the Arte Informale, the Informal Art movement. This title reveals
that Rihm is still fascinated by the “informel” in art, as explained above in
his thoughts about Adorno (see p. 69), and as will be further explored in
the chapter on Harmony (see p. 161ff.).
Another interesting source for Rihm’s vision on fine arts can be found
in his correspondence with Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht, his former professor
of musicology, who asked him for a definition of music. In his second
attempt, Rihm writes: “Music is indeed maybe painting or architecture, in
time, depending on one’s viewpoint. For me rather painting, but certainly
in space, not restricted to one and the same surface.” And he continues
more towards the physical aspects of setting notes on paper with pencil
noise, again using the word “stroke”.14 A variant is found in Musik – Malerei.
… ungereimt, zur Kunst gedacht…: “I hang around often, wanting to know
(?) whether my music is not easily thinkable as image, in surface, as a
sound-point-tower of music.”15
To Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5, the composer relates a whole series
of pictorial terms: Dichte, Dichtegrade (density, degrees of density),
Durchscheinungsgrade (degrees of transparency), Farbkörper (colour
blocks, colour fields; literally: colour bodies), Fläche (surfaces, fields), Linie,
Linienzeichnung, Strich, Hieb (line, line drawing, stripe, streak, stroke),
Penetranz (sharpness), Übermalung (overpainting), Undurchdringlichkeit
(impenetrability). Ohne Titel is clearly meant as painting in music: the line
or Hieb (see Ex. 31, p. 104), the overpainting or Übermalung (see Ex. 32,
4 – Fine Arts 99
p. 107) and the state or Zustand (see Ex. 33, p. 117) are more than once
emphasised.
After Ohne Titel Rihm rejected a few title references to fine arts. Ohne
Titel II was rejected for the Sixth String Quartet; Zeichnungen, Seiten or
“Drawings, pages” for the Eighth String Quartet. The latter was not simply
rejected: it was “struck through, overpainted, hatched, shaded, blackened,
scratched, etched”. Because of this, the handling of the title became the
subject of the composition, which is about writing, putting signs on paper
and refers to Roland Barthes in Bestirnen eines Textes (see p. 57). Viewed in
the context of a “plural literary text”, the English translation is rather poor:
“expanding the text”.16 In the Eighth Quartet the musicians have to write or
draw on the paper with the tip of the bow, scores must be scratched, they
have to shake the sheets and fumble them up, they have to destroy their
sheets as if the composer was not satisfied with his result: “tear to pieces,
shake and crush, throw to the ground”. The noise of the writing or drawing,
the haptic contact of the pencil with the paper is introduced in the music.
These concrete noises make the fine art parallel an undeniable fact, despite
the rejected title. On the one hand, maybe the context of the relation to fine
arts is dealing more with the composer’s private life, his feelings expressed
in the writing of the words con amore by the quartet players, than with his
fundamental dialogue with fine arts.17 On the other hand, the drawer with
his pencil (or the painter with his brush as in Gedicht des Malers) parallels
the way Rihm composes with pencil on paper: this is the subject here,
including the physical act of destroying unsatisfactory trials by screwing up
and tearing the paper and throwing it to the ground.
Line Drawing
Where the Fifth String Quartet can easily be perceived as painting in music,
the Sixth is more like drawing. “Drawn” are four figures, well defined and
presented at the beginning: one could say that they are clearly drawn,
distinguishable and delineated; therefore a parallel with drawing seems
obvious. With its duration of 45 minutes, this quartet is indeed a “large
drawing”. It stays a drawing while in many passages the four basic figures or
line drawings are still recognisable.
100 Part I – Style
In the opening bars the four contrasting figures are presented and
immediately repeated, varied and developed in a great diversity. This
happens in such a condensed manner that the term Fortspinnung is not out
of place here: in bars 1-4, the opening figure of the first violin appears no
fewer than thirteen times.
The first figure is short, fast and rhythmic, based on seconds: bb(-2)
ab(+1)a. It is immediately transformed in the following ways: rhythmic
augmentation and diminution, transposition, inversion, changes in
articulation, shortened to two notes, and growing together in a continuous
chain (Ex. 26). This first figure has a clear identity; however, the slightest
change in intervals, or the insertion of pitch a as second note, or the place
change of the second and third notes causes a chromatic result: I define this
as a “systemless consequence” typical of Rihm. It is indeed impossible for
the analyst to identify each chromatic (double) step or longer chromatic
series as derived from figure 1.
Ȯ ™
sfz p
œ #œ nœ ™
vn1 vn2
4
&4 Œ ‰ #œ ™ #œ
3
bœ bœ nœ b œ b œ n œ b ‰ bœ ‰ bœ bœ nœ
> va J. vn1 b œ n œ n œ3 . . .
3 p pp pp
> 3 > 3
& ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰
3 3 3 3 3 3 3
b œ. b œ. n œ. œ. b œ. n œ. œ. b œ. n œ. œ. b œ. n œ. b œ. b œ. n œ. œ. b œ. n œ. œv b œ n œ
v v
fff
Ex. 26. String Quartet No. 6, Blaubuch, 1-4. Figure 1.
The second figure is presented simultaneously as melodic and harmonic or

as broken and simultaneous chord (bar 2, Ex. 27). Melodically it is built on
fast ascending leaps, using perfect fourth, tritone and perfect fifth: the
overlapping double melodic presentation starts from different bass notes:
c-f-b and f-b-f#, with f and b as common elements. Harmonically it results
in the tritone-fifth triad c-f#-g, a “tritone-triad”, a type of chord typical of
Rihm (see p. 165, 213). The triad will return immediately in the next bar
(bar 3), transposed on e: e-bb-b.
4 – Fine Arts 101
° 4Œ
>
sfz p
nnn Ȯ ™™™
n Ȯ
Va & 4
™ -
Vn2
. œ-. #œ
?4 nœ œ nœ œ œ
¢ 4‰ J
3
Vc nœ
3
Ex. 27. String Quartet No. 6, Blaubuch, 2. Figure 2: double presentation: melodic
and harmonic.
The third figure is also composed of ascending leaps. In its first appearances
it is introduced by a longer or shorter bass note. Already in the first
transformations this note disappears, which makes figure 3 closer to figure
2. The reason why I insist on considering it as a separate figure lies in the
interval combination: figure 3 is less defined – meaning that the intervals
are not fixed but rather appear as minor and major third, perfect and
augmented fifth – than figure 2, which is always reducible to one and the
same tritone-triad. As a result of third and fifth, the intervals of figure 3
always build a minor or major seventh. On the other hand, figure 3 is also
more defined because it appears very often on the same bass note, pitch c.
Figure 3 is presented in bar 3 and immediately varied in the following bars:
a chain of semiquaver triplets in the viola, indeed mostly on pitch c. The
variety in interval combinations is applied from the outset: minor third
plus augmented fifth with major seventh, minor third plus perfect fifth with
minor seventh and major third plus perfect fifth with major seventh (Ex.
28).
n œ. . bœ. b œ b œ^ n œ^
nœ bœ Ó™ bœ^ nœ^ nœ^ nœ^
vc va
nœ- ™ n>œ ™
? 44 nœ Œ B
3
sfz p ff 3 3
5
n œ^ ^ ^ œ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ nœ^ ^ n œ^ nœ^ n œ^ ^ ^ n œ^ nœ^ n œ^ nœ^ ^ ^ n œ^ nœ^
B bœ nœ nœ #œ œ œ nœ bœ nœ bœ^ #œ œ
3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3

Figures 1, 2 and 3 are very short elements. By contrast, the fourth figure is
presented in sustained notes, spread over four bars: an ascending line or
scale fragment over a diminished fourth, b(+2)c#(+1)d(+1)eb, intertwined
polyphonically with the three other developed figures. The notes of figure 4
are spread over the four instruments and cause a broken down-up line:
b(-34)c#(+49)d(+1)eb (Ex. 29). The first transformation consists of a
transposition a whole tone lower, combined with a chromatic extension
(from a to f#). It also uses repeated instead of sustained notes and dyads
with a minor or major seventh interval are formed. Here also, the “systemless
consequence” or transformation into complete chromaticism is only one
step away.
> >
bw
° 4
nw
nœ ™ n>œ ™
vn2 vn1
va
Vn1
Vn2 &4 ∑ Œ
Va
4 ™ ?Œ ™
p ff sffz p sffz p sffz f
¢
Vc & 4 Ó nœ œ Œ j Ó ∑
#œ ˙
>
sffz p ff
In the 1980s Rihm discussed the concept of the “line” in a number of ways:
two pitches always stay at the same distance or interval, while for lines this
situation of parallelism is exceptional. In a more personal and enigmatic
way he compared the space defined by simultaneous lines as a negative
form of the line tension, with the envelope of a harmonised melody that is
different from the melody as such.18 The melody-dominated homophony in
the string quartets divides the quartet into a melodic first violin (and/or
second violin) and the other instruments, not accompanying as such but
having a highly contrasting part. The melodic violin is situated in the high
or highest register and proceeds in long sustained notes, creating a line. On
the one hand, the melodic character is diminished by the extremely long
durations of the notes: the melodic unity fades away; on the other hand the
melodic high violin seems to float or glide above the others (Ex. 30). In my
opinion, this melodic treatment could reflect the following aspect in the
paintings of Kurt Kocherscheidt: “The wonderful drift of the objects on the
canvas or image surface.”19 Rihm adds that both single and gliding events
4 – Fine Arts 103
are satisfying answers in his search for compositional means that function
as opposed to the “avant-garde relation coercion”. Here he is referring to
Klavierstück Nr. 6, Bagatellen, dedicated to Kocherscheidt, where lines with
long sustained sounds are composed, which does not preclude their
application to compositions of the 1980s, written shortly afterwards. In
Bagatellen these floating lines are not always in a high register and the
continuity of the line is opposed to the sound decay, unavoidable on a
piano.
”
n“œ ™
° 4J
#œ ˙ œ
Vn1 &4 J
sfz pp
4 r r
Vn2 &4 ≈ nœ œ ‰ nœ œ ≈ ≈ œ œ ‰ œ ≈ ≈ œ œ ‰ œ ≈
n œ. œ. sfz sempre n œ œ œ œ. œ. œ œ. œ.
^ v v v. v. ^œ. v. v v ^œ. v. v v
nœ. nœ^. œ^. œ^. œ^.
B 44 nœ ≈ ≈ nœ ‰ œR ≈ ≈ œ œ ‰ œ ≈ ≈ œ ‰
R R ^. ^. R R
Va
sfz sempre n œ^. sfz sempre œ^. œ^. œ œ œ^. œ^.

?4 ‰ nœ ≈ ≈ œ ‰ œ ≈ ≈ œ œ ‰ œ ≈ ≈ œR
Vc
¢ 4 R R R R
<“>
œ nœ ™ œ™ # œ # ˙ ™™
° nœ^. nœ ™ nœ
48
& J
ff sffz p
r r r r r r r r r r r
& ≈ nœ ‰ œ ≈≈ œ ‰ œ ≈≈ œ ‰ nœ ≈≈ œ ‰ œ ≈≈ œ ‰ œ ≈ ≈ œ
n œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. n œ. œ. ^ œ. œ. œ. œ.
v v v v v v v v v v v
^^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
nœ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. nœ. nœ. bœ^. nœ^. bœ^. œœ . . . . œœ
. . . . œœ
..
B nœœ≈ ≈ œœ‰ œ ≈ ≈ œ ‰ œ ≈ ≈ œ ‰ nœ ≈ ≈ ‰ ≈ ≈ bœœ œœ
R R R R R
nœ^
.
^. ^. ^. ^. ^. ^. ^. ^. ^.
? ‰ nœR ≈ ≈nbœœR ‰ œœR ≈ ≈œœR ‰ œœR ≈ ≈nbœœR ‰ œœR ≈ ≈œœR ‰ œœR ≈ ≈ œœR ‰
¢
Ex. 30. String Quartet no. 6, Blaubuch, 46-49.
In other situations, the line stays absolutely visual in the score. A much
simpler transfer takes place when it is not the line itself, but the movement
of drawing a line or the brush stroke (Hieb) in a rather fast and violent way,
that is aimed at. This is mirrored in short and fast ascending melodic
elements, whether repeated or not (Ex. 31). This kind of melodic element
frequently returns and is found in almost each composition, also because of
Rihm’s predilection for ascending melodies.
n œ. n œ. n>œ # œ. >.
> sul pont. nœ#œ n œ œ. # œ > n>œ n œ. n œ
#Oœ Oœ b>œ nœ œ > bœnœ
ord.
4
Vn1 & 4 Œ æ æJ œ ≈‰ Œ bœ nœ œ
nœ
≈‰ ‰ nœ nœ ≈‰
3 3 3 3 3
sfffz p 3
ff p
3
sffz pp fff (fff)
Ex. 31. Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5, 43-45.
Rihm claims that for his concept of implementation (Umsetzung), the art of
Arnulf Rainer is always “near at hand”. This refers to his observation that a
painter is always working directly on his object, confronted with his canvas
or sheet near at hand, while the composer has to write down a code, the
notation of music.20 Having his work near at hand could have been Rihm’s
intention when he was working out his Notebook String Quartets: during
their genesis he always kept his notebook with him in order to continue
composing anywhere at any time, immediately writing down the final
version.
Colour
In a very simple way colour shades or tints in painting can be compared
with timbre nuances in music. Rihm starts and ends the Fifth Quartet with
shadings: pitch f#1 as a sustained single tone is doubled by the first violin
and the viola in bar 1 and continues in the viola solo in bars 2-3. No longer
isolated, the same pitch reappears in bar 4 in the second violin and the viola
(together for only one quaver) and rhythmically sharply pronounced in the
second violin in bars 4-5. At the end of the composition, the sustained pitch
b is present in the cello from bar 579, in unison in all instruments in bar
583 and alternating with overlaps in bars 584-585. A variant in the pitch
shading of f# is found in the opening bar of the Sixth Quartet: started in the
cello, overtaken by the second violin and slightly accentuated by the viola.
4 – Fine Arts 105
In another way, colour is particularly important for Rihm (in general,

not only in these string quartets) because of the accumulation of
articulations, such as accents, harmonics, tremolo, martellato, staccato,
legato, sul ponticello, sul tasto, molto sul tasto, and especially because of
articulations that shift sound into noise, such as for instance a very high
note sfffz fff tremolo sul ponticello.
Furthermore, I can relate colour as a musical texture element to the fine
arts concepts of transparency, density and pastosity (impasto), but also to
surface and layering.
Layering and Overpainting

It is clear that Rihm has been inspired and influenced by Arnulf Rainer for
his use of the Übermalung technique. However, there are remarkable
differences between overpainting in fine arts and in music. Rainer’s
technique is simple and evident: he takes a photo or a picture, mostly a
portrait, and overpaints it with black or coloured brushstrokes, making the
underlying portrait partly, almost or completely invisible. Whereas for
Rainer overpainting always results in one specific overpainted artwork and
never in a series of paintings where the different stages of the application of
this technique can be considered, in Rihm’s concept overpainting becomes
a typical postmodern way of art creation: reusing, resuming, rewriting the
same material in the next composition, since its possibilities are not
exhausted after the first artistic realisation. The result is a series of
compositions based on the same material. Another important difference
lies in the effect of overpainting. There are different degrees of overpainting
by Rainer, from the mere addition to the complete blackening. Rihm does
much more than just add some colour in his overpainting. For the composer
Übermalung has become a wide range of different operations, such as added
layers and insertions; in most cases leaving the original partly audible,
excluding almost completely the covering of the original sound layer by the
addition of new material with extremely loud dynamics.21
Rihm combines the term Schichtung (layering or stratification) with
Grundierungen (first layers, ground layers) and with Übermalungen
(overpaintings). Further referring to Arnulf Rainer, layering is also combined
with density, impenetrability and sharpness, and with “hinter Schlagstrich
gittern verborgene Vorgänge” or “events hidden by grid of slaps and lines”.22

This “grid” can make the underlying layers less visible, quasi or completely
invisible; the “slaps” are aggressive brushstrokes. Different sound layers by
different instruments are always covering each other in music, albeit in a
more or less transparent way: it depends on the dynamics of each layer
whether it stays audible or not. For Rihm, “layer” is not a neutral term;
rather a layer is always defined by certain characteristics, where multi-
layered means that layers with different characteristics are stacked.
Equally typical of Rihm are the quick changes of layering, the texture
changes between homorhythmic and non-homorhythmic or polyrhythmic
moments and the alteration between multi-layered moments and unison or
monody. Where Rihm’s layering or complex texture application is closely
related to visual arts, it treats the appearance and disappearance of layers, it
deals with the moving from a layer from background to foreground and
vice versa, which is translated by becoming audible, as fading to weakly
audible, or as dominating with strong dynamics, accents and sforzandi, etc.
Therefore layering also deals with both clearly and vaguely defined
elements. A good example is the “enormous” difference between the use of
the less defined tremolo and the prescribed fast demisemiquavers, where
Rihm adds each time non tremolo (for instance: String Quartet no. 5, bar
113: a non tremolo moment in between long tremolos; bars 304-306: tremolo
(va-vc) and non tremolo (vn1-2) at the same time).
The term Übermalung appeared for the first time in Rihm’s comments
on Tutuguri, composed in 1980-82, not emphasised, but in a list in brackets,
without any definition or explanation:
(I proceeded often as on image surfaces: density clusters, overpainted,

signal, colour fight, attacking the material, sound strokes, free setting,
line coercion, grids, plastic, haptic …)23
Surprisingly, no greater emphasis is given to the concept in Rihm’s comment

on Ohne Titel, the Fifth String Quartet. Here again the term finds its place
in a list: “[o]bjects drifting away from one another. Overpainting, torn
surfaces.”24 In the Fifth Quartet, overpainting is literally composed (Ex. 32,
showing some bars of a longer similar passage). It seems as if the scratching
of both violins, ffff, covers the viola and the cello, which parts are partly
inaudible, overpainted in music. As in an overpainted painting, where the
4 – Fine Arts 107
underlying layer is no longer visible, here too the viola and cello parts have
disappeared. Of course, this is an exceptional case, at odds with what Rihm
claims to be different in music, where the underlying layers are generally
still present and (partly) audible.25
nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w
° 4 ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ
&4
## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w
Vn1
æ ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ
&4 æ
Vn2
4
^ ^
^. b œ. œ. n œ^.
≈nœ ≈ R Œ Ó
pizz.
Va
4
&4 ∑ ∑ ŒÓ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑
5 sfffz
fff
.^
∑ & nœ Œ Ó
arco sul p. pizz.
? 44
¢ ∑ ‰ r≈Œ Ó ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑
Vc
#nœœ
sfffz .
n~ nn ~w
v
nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w
sfffz
° ææ
97 n w
æ æ æ æ
&
## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w
æ ææ ææ ææ ææ
& æ
arco sul p. 3
≈ Œ nœj #œv œv œv Ó
6 3
& ∑ B Œ ‰ nœbœ œ Ó ∑ Ó Œ ≈ nœ
. .. #œ
v n œv v vœ v ^.
fff v v v
^. #œ
¢& Œ ‰ nœJ Ó
pizz.
∑ ∑ Ó Œn ≈ ‰ Œ Ó
arco
?
(pizz.) # œœ. œœ.
sfffz sfffz vv sfffz
Ex. 32. Ohne Titel. String Quartet no. 5, bars 89-101. Both violins ffff from bar 85.
To be comprehensive and in spite of a certain presumption of

Hineininterpretierung, I must add that Rihm argues that he acquired the
technique of overpainting much earlier, together with the concept of work
groups and cycles, already during his study with Huber, 1973-76. His way
of improving what Huber indicated as weak moments in his study
compositions was not to correct them, but to write a next work, “by
fashioning their forms anew, ‘painting’ another layer on top of the existing
one, inserting new sections, etc.” Different works, seeking for solutions for
similar problems, were “added up to cycles”.26
Despite Rihm’s great interest in fine arts, in recent interviews he has

been increasingly prone to adopt a terminology that is “musically correct”.
More than once he has combined both terms, mentioning both “over
painting” and “overwriting”.27 Another way of putting it: “[a]n existing text,
notes, sounds – or a text-segment, a layer, one part – is confronted with an
addition.”28 Here the German word Beschriftung is used, meaning a written
addition to an existing score (or text). And Rihm even doubts whether his
own introduction of Übermalung into music is appropriate: “’Overpainting’
– I am already using this expression as though it were a universally accepted
term from music theory, although I doubt whether this is so –“.29 With the
shift towards a more correct and accurate terminology, the field of semiotics
comes into the picture as the rewriting and overwriting of existing texts is
a matter of “intertextuality”. Scholars, such as Barbara Zuber in her analysis
of the complex genesis of Jagden und Formen, refer to it as “the concept of
intertextuality”, “intertextual work processes” and a “form building function
of intertextual techniques”.30 On different occasions Rihm himself also
affirms the terminology of intertextuality, adding the term “pre-text”,
convinced of the unique possibilities music offers in that field.31 Adding the
dimension of self-criticism to intertextuality, Rihm puts it as follows: “The
way I deal with old material is consistent with the way I work: I criticise and
comment on my own music with my own music.”32 Rihm extends the
terminology to “multiple overpainting”, similar to multi-layered
intertextuality: how an added layer in turn becomes the subject of
overwriting, how an added layer can be withdrawn, and how the result of
an overwritten original musical text can be overwritten a second time. He
concludes that the result is “a kind of self-generation, autopoiesis”.33
Reinhold Brinkmann confirms Rihm’s self-analysis in coining the terms
“composed self-reflection” (komponierte Selbstreflexion) and “authorial
self-confrontation” (auktoriale Selbstbegegnung). He also generalises in a
postmodern way and considers Rihm’s reflection on history as an aspect of
intertextuality, defined as the “inevitable communication of all works with
each other”. According to Brinkmann, due to its reflection on history, a
work of art escapes the misunderstanding that art can only be unreflective
subjectivity. He praises the quality of intertextuality as it is able to avoid the
pure quotation, which he condemns as being “too direct, unilinear and
unpoetical”.34
4 – Fine Arts 109
It is my conviction that there is a certain contradiction between the

overpainting technique and the notebook process. In a certain way, the
notebook process or the immediate writing down of the composition in its
final version rules out the possibility of overwriting. Overpainting or
overwriting can only happen afterwards, after a first layer was finished. In
the case of the Notebook Quartets, there is only one layer, “all at once”.
Therefore, the scratching example given above (Ex. 32), the ideal fulfilling
of the need to find an example of overpainting is not what it seems to be.
The scratching of the violins, the sounds of the viola and the cello, the
silences of the latter, interpreted as a covered layer: all this had to be created
as one layer, at once by the composer. In my opinion, while this layer
consists of two very different textures plus silence, it could be meant to
evoke overpainting and the listener is free to accept or interpret it as such.
Another consequence: all examples of overpainting become hypothetical
and are subjected to the interpretation of the performers. However, if
overpainting can make something almost disappear, I can still propose the
following techniques as musical equivalents of overpainting, with examples
found in the Fifth Quartet:
- B ars 27-28: simultaneous fff, p and pp

The simultaneity of strong and soft dynamics makes the loud ones
cover the soft ones, which will be partly audible or entirely inaudible.
- B ars 144-148: all fff, texture of three against one (vn1)
While the first violin has a sustained very high pitch e4, the others
play semiquavers in triplets, many double stops, all marcato. The risk
that they will partially or totally cover the first violin is not
inconceivable. The risk diminishes when the first violin changes its
rhythm to quavers in bar 148.
- B ars 159-167: fast tremolo semiquavers create a melodic element in
viola and cello. The tremolo makes the rhythm unsharp and causes a
blurred melodic line. The melodic element is “overpainted” by the
tremolo.
- B ars 1-4: appearing and reappearing pitch f#
Knowing that the act of listening is based on memory, one could
argue that the unison sound opening the quartet, absent and
reappearing in the next bars, is overpainted in the absent moments.
Large Drawing
The “total shape” or Gesamtgestalt is what Rihm calls the drawing or
Zeichnung. This could refer to the way the painter works: when he is
working on a detail in a specific part of a large drawing or painting, he
regularly moves back to look at the result and to judge it in relation to the
whole work. It is not so easy to imagine that the composer could work in
such a way, because he has to proceed in time: the parallelism can only be
valid if I consider that, at a certain moment (not to say at any moment), the
composer is not only aware of what he wrote before (the already notated)
but already knows what will follow afterwards (the not yet notated).
This is part of what I earlier described as the “looking back” technique
(see p. 43).
To find an analogy for the looking back technique, it is easier to turn to
the reception of the artwork, to consider the spectator of fine arts. He can
indeed overlook a drawing or painting as a whole, from a certain distance,
and then step closer to zoom in on a certain detail. This action in time
defines how we “read” a painting, with actions such as coming closer,
looking at details, overlooking the whole work again, zooming in on
another detail, comparing the details, and zooming out again. This means
that, through time, the spectator creates his own structure in the painting,
together with the presented, inherent or immanent structure of the painting
as such, as defined by the artist. The overall structure of a piece of music,
conceived by the composer, can be compared with the latter approach; the
structure as a result once the composition is finished. Planned beforehand
or not, the result is “structured sound”. The former, the spectator-structure
of the work as it is created during his observation of the artwork, is exactly
what Rihm aims at as a composer (I explicitly have to exclude the listener
here): to create the form or the work during the compositional process,
without any preparation or planning beforehand. On the other hand, Rihm
is aware that it is impossible to escape from form and form-structuring
principles. I could argue that he found a solution to reconcile both in the
creation of a “pictorial” structure, reflected in “exposition” and
“continuation”, a possible analytical approach to both Notebook Quartets.
For the Sixth Quartet, the four figures given above (see Ex. 26 p. 100; Ex. 27
p. 101; Ex. 28 p. 101; Ex. 29, p. 102) form the start of the presentation or
exposition phase, followed by the continuation or elaboration of the same
4 – Fine Arts 111
figures. In the Fifth Quartet, the basic material is presented in a different

way, not as figures, but as short elements or “states”, whether or not returning
during the presentation phase (bars 1-59) and elaborated later in the score.
They consist of (1) the ascending and descending line, (2) harmonics,
(3) homorhythm, (4) repetition and tremolo, (5) a solo, (6) an isolated
element, (7) a sustained element and finally (8) a calmo passage.
The exposition with the presentation of the main elements can be
viewed now as the global look at the whole of the composition: many
elements appear in a very brief form, but all the important elements are
there. After the exposition, the “zooming” starts, where the elements of the
presentation are developed, multiplied or brought in in augmentation, in
one word, where they receive a closer look. Where those elements appear
over and over again, within a shorter or longer period, more or less
transformed, I can explain this now as repeatedly “zooming” into details of
a picture. Here Rihm really found a musical mirror for the way the spectator
looks at a painting, using the time or duration of the “observation” and the
changes of position through time as a guide. The most eye-catching
zoomings in both Notebook Quartets are literal and varied repetition over
a long period, phrases in a slower tempo built up with maintained sustained
sounds, isolated sounds and long silences, whether or not interrupted by a
few sounds. Even the stretto and voice exchange techniques can find a place
in this list. However, because music develops through time, it is unavoidable
that the composer remains in charge: only he decides on events such as the
duration of each zooming action or the order of the different zoomings.
The listener is not actively involved; moreover, he cannot be involved
without the application of certain aleatoric possibilities.
Kurt Kocherscheidt
The Austrian painter Kurt Kocherscheidt was Rihm’s close friend from
1973 until his death in 1992. They became acquainted just after
Kocherscheidt’s return from a ten-month trip through South America,
considered an “initiation” and provoking a definite turn in his work. The
painter was so impressed by the Amazon rainforest that he returned there
in 1976. As mentioned above, Rihm is not interested in extra-European art.
He seems more influenced by the unrelatedness of the objects in
Kocherscheidt’s paintings, which can be identified with one of Rihm’s

characteristics: the composition as a sequence of unrelated fragments, in
one word: his technique of fragmentation.35 With this understanding, I can
relate Rihm’s utterance “Objects drifting away one from another”,
commenting on his Fifth String Quartet, to Kocherscheidt.36 Rihm used
these words in 1983: Auseinanderdriftende Objekte; almost twenty years
later, his opinion and vocabulary have not changed: eine wunderbare Drift
der Objekte auf der Bildfläche, as quoted above, referring to Klavierstück
Nr. 6, Bagatellen and applied by me to a passage of the Sixth String Quartet
(see p. 103 and Ex. 30 p. 103).
Rihm dedicated no fewer than seven compositions to Kocherscheidt:
Klavierstück Nr. 6, Bagatellen and Kolchis (1991) during his life; Pol – Kolchis –
Nucleus (1996), Blick auf Kolchis (2002) after Kocherscheidt’s death and
three in memoriam pieces: Dritte Musik für Violine und Orchester (1993),
In Frage (in memoriam) and Frage (in memoriam II) (both 1999-2000).
Kocherscheidt also dedicated works to Rihm: the drawing Klavierküste III
(1975, Rihm thanked him with Klavierstück Nr. 6, Bagatellen) and Kolchis.
It is surprising that in Brustrauschen, the interesting study on the
relationship between Rihm and Kocherscheidt, nothing is found about the
latter’s ethnic influences and interests. Next to “nature” as rough material in
both, it seems to me that the authors wanted to overemphasise the abstract
element in Kocherscheidt, in order to find as many similarities as possible
with Rihm’s absolute or abstract musical aesthetic. In the world of fine arts
however, Kocherscheidt is understood as being under the influence of
ethnic art. On the occasion of a retrospective in 2013, the artist was
characterised as follows: the influence of his travels through South America
is very important, because there he found inspiration in “archaic rituals”, in
masks and discs that would become recurring objects in his work.37
Despite the ethnic outlook of Kocherscheidt’s wooden sculpture The
Boys from Kolchis, the title is related to ancient Greece and mythology. But
with his music Kolchis, Rihm himself does not enter into these particularities;
he only comments on the importance of the material, the wood. In that
way, he stays faithful to his refusal to deal with art originating from cultures
other than the Western.38 Even when he uses Asian, African and Latin-
American percussion instruments, as in his opera Oedipus (1986-87) for
instance, the way he composes is not influenced by the choice of the
4 – Fine Arts 113
instruments.39 The choice of these instruments is clearly and exclusively

based on their typical sound and timbre. Wolfgang Rihm is a Europe-
centered person, not interested in “tourist culture”, which often results in
precious objects hanging on the wall.40
Commenting on Dritte Musik, Rihm states that he did a lot of
eavesdropping (viel ablauschte) of his friend Kocherscheidt: the painting
Schwarze Schönheit was constantly in his mind. In this specific case, Ulrich
Mosch believes that it is possible to relate characteristics of both works:
darkness in colours, mostly black, can be identified with dark timbres, with
rough sounds and with solid forms or Geschlossenheit der Formen, as
explained in Zur Rolle bildnerischen Vorstellungen im musikalischen Denken
und Komponieren Wolfgang Rihms.41
The Sound of Wood

Rihm’s treatment of the sound of the woodblock, the typical Holzklang, is
very subtle. He explains that he only really imagined what the significance
of the “wood sound” in his music was the moment his composition Kolchis
was performed in front of Kocherscheidt’s wooden sculpture The Boys from
Kolchis (1991).42 One of the percussion instruments in Kolchis is indeed a
high woodblock. The Boys from Kolchis is a wooden sculpture, consisting of
four standing parts, an imperfect ellipse each, topped by a horizontal beam,
the whole painted deep red, a kind of oxblood colour. It resembles a row of
discs or shields, together forming a closed gate. The atmosphere and look
are definitely ethnic.
In many compositions Rihm uses percussion, from the normal 1 or 2
sometimes up to 5, 6 or even 8 and 10 percussionists, with one or more
woodblocks. His use of only low woodblocks, as it is the case in the Seventh
Quartet with three low woodblocks or Chiffre III with one low woodblock,
is exceptional. In most cases high and low woodblocks are used together, as
in the Chiffre cycle. Chiffre II, Silence to be Beaten uses 3 woodblocks, high,
middle, low; Chiffre V: 2 woodblocks, high and very low; Bild: 2 woodblocks,
high and low; Chiffre VII: 4 woodblocks, very high, high, low and very low;
Nach-Schrift: 2 woodblocks, very high and low. In his most famous
percussion piece, Tutuguri VI, Kreuze for 6 percussionists, Rihm makes use
of only one low woodblock. Stück (1988-89) is a short piece for 3
percussionists: bongo, suspended cymbal and one woodblock. In

SKOTEINÓS, Heraklit-Fragmente for 3 male voices and 3 trombones, each
singer accompanies himself with a percussion instrument: high bongo
(tenor), crotale (baritone) and high woodblock (bass). In Nachtwach (1987-
88) for 8 solo voices, mixed choir, 4 trombones and woodblock, the
conductor has to play the woodblock at the very end of the composition, as
a hard short noise in contrast to the sustained chords of the singers and the
trombones. Much more striking is the solo for woodblock near the end of
In-Schrift (1995) for orchestra, embedded in a long percussion passage with
drums. The specific attention given to the woodblock seems to be a kind of
“composer’s signature”: in the recent Concerto “Séraphin” (2006-08) for 16
players (2 percussionists), the woodblock also appears at the very end of
the composition. It is described as “an elating experience: the entry of an
impossibly high, plain horn duet flowering into flutter-tonguing and
finished with woodblock.”43
In the Seventh String Quartet, Veränderungen, the addition of three low
woodblocks for the violins and viola players is not a percussion timbre
opposed to the string sound, but clearly an expansion of the timbral
possibilities of the strings towards noise-like and percussion-like timbres.
Short “hard” and “harsh” string sounds lead “fluently” to the woodblocks,
such as pizzicato sfffz combined with staccato and marcato (bar 12, violin
1), Bartók-pizzicato detailed in the same way (bar 102, viola), strings mit
Bogenspitze geschlagen (bar 83, violin 1, viola, cello), short arco notes sul
ponticello am Frosch (bar 79, violin 2) or arco col legno (bar 98, violin 1).
The score opens with one hard woodblock stroke and many phrases begin
in the same way, with a short harsh sound as an imitation of the woodblock
(for instance bars 12, 101, 136). This list could give the false impression that
the woodblocks are used only in a hard and aggressive way. Nothing is less
true, as there are also pianissimo woodblock strokes: the woodblock solo
passage must be interpreted pp and tenuto, the last being more an
intentionality than reality with durations of four to six beats per stroke in a
moderate tempo (bars 362-372).
5
Repetition
I n the previous chapters, the phenomenon of “repetition” and the related

“return” or delayed repetition have already been mentioned several
times. Rihm opposes obsessively recurring moments and frequent
repetitions with the concept of “single event” (see Ex. 1, p. 39; see p. 40).1
“A struggle spreads out; its endlessly seeming repetitions are brought to
a climax by accelerating tempo and sharpened timbres.”2 In this way Rihm
comments on the moment in his ensemble piece Kalt (1989-91) where the
oboe and the English horn have to start a “fight” based on one repeated
pitch. Moreover, Rihm’s comment reveals that a repetition passage can be
“evolving”, while the unchanged repetition rather creates a “stasis” moment.
A typology of Rihm’s use of repetition consists of the following categories:
(1) repetition to create a state, (2) repetition as a way of questioning,
(3) repetition as “writer’s block”, (4) repetition as a unique event,
(5) repetition generating elements, repetition related to a generative pole.
Since these categories are partially overlapping, they can be grouped as
follows: categories 1, 2 and 3 are focused on repetition of one sound, one
chord or one short element. Categories 4 and 5 concern repetition of a
(longer musical element. Categories 1, 4 and 5 oppose repetition versus
non-repetition.
The most important category will be the last one, where the shift of
repetition to the generating of elements takes place: certain material is no
longer “repeated” literally: it returns with few/some/many changes. The
reappearance is different because of the unlimited possibilities a generative
pole offers to the composer: generating elements becomes more interesting
than repetition.
115
Create a State by (non-)Repetition

In his commentary on the work Kolchis, inspired by the artwork of Kurt
Kocherscheidt, described in the previous chapter, Rihm writes:
Nothing occurs twice. Identity exists only as flow. Even in music

nothing repeats itself. Time is the greatest enemy of repetition. It has
already passed by the time something similar starts to be the same.3
The impossibility of repetition is typical of Rihm’s paradoxes. In the

previous chapter on fine arts the concept of “state” or Zustand was found in
both the Fifth and Sixth String Quartets. Also in the context of the Chiffre
cycle, Rihm stresses the importance of the “state”: “A stage in my constantly
interrupted, constantly resumed search for music as a state. Music as a state
of music.”4
Whether by using repetition or by other means, such as sustained
sounds over a long period, to create a state implies a particular relation to
time, as alluded to by Rihm in the quotations above. It also becomes very
clear that Zustand cannot be understood as “standstill”, but as “state”. “State”
excludes the necessity of evolution, the returning concept of climax
building, tension increasing and decreasing, of presentation and
development or elaboration: essentially, of traditional processes in music.
A composition becomes a state, or rather a succession of different states,
where the duration of each state is very flexible and easy to “compose”,
meaning here to be “defined in time”. Each passage, section, phrase or
moment of a composition can become a “state”. Rihm can define the time
lapse of each “state” in a very flexible way. Returning to the combination of
state and repetition: small changes in a state built on quasi-repeated
elements ask for a change in the manner of listening, for the giving of
attention to the nuances of the “inner sound”. (compare Ex. 1 with Ex. 30,
Ex. 33, Ex. 34 and Ex. 35). And one step further: by creating a real standstill
or stasis, all attention goes to the inner sound-life.
5 – Repetition 117
Ȯ nn Ȯ nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w
° 4
trem.
æ æ æ æ æ æ æ
Vn1 &4
## Ȯ Ȯ ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w
sfffz fff diminuendo - - - - - - - - - - - - -
ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ ææ
trem.
4
&4
##Oœ^ Oœ^ Oœ^ Oœ^ Ȯ ™™
Vn2
æ
sfffz fff diminuendo - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Va B 44 ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘
nn~wæ
44 nnOœ^. >Oœ >Oœ Oœ Oœ^ Oœ^ Ȯ
fff diminuendo - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Vc
¢ & æ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘
fff 3 diminuendo - - - - - - - - - - - - -
nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn ~w nn Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ Ȯ ™™
. .trem.
non . .
° æ æ æ æ æ æ
477 sempre ppp
ritardando - - - - - - -
Vn1 & ‘ ‘
## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## ~w ## Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ Ȯ ™™
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - subito sffffz
. .trem.
. .
pppp
ppp non
æ æ æ æ æ æ
Vn2 & ‘ ‘
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - subito sffffz pppp ord
ppp
Va B ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - subito sffffz pppp
pppp ord
Vc
¢& ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - subito sffffz pppp
ppp
q = 60
. . . . . .
nn Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ
ritardando - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
° j
485
Vn1 & ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ n#œœ ˙˙

. . . . . .
## Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ
pppp
j
nbœ ˙
Vn2 & ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ œ ˙
. . . . . .
## Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ Oœ
pppp
j
B ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ nœ ˙
Va
#œ ˙
pppp
j
Vc
¢& ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ nnœO. œO. œO. œO. œO. œO. ?nœ ˙
pppp
Ex. 33. Ohne Titel. String Quartet no. 5, 470-492.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
4 nbœœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. œœ. rit. - - - - - - - - - - -
Pf &4 ‘ ‘ ‘
fff
°
Snare drum
¢ / 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ ‰ Œ Ó
Perc 4 ∑ ∑
ff pp
97 q = 56 accel. q = 80 rit. - - - - - - - (q = 48) accel. - - - - - - - - -
& ‘ ‘ ‘
p
& ∑ ∑ ‰ Œ
n œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ.
“p ‘
æ
°/ ˙æ
q = 56 accel. q = 80
∑ Œ ‰ œœœœœœœœ‰ Ó
pp fff pp mf pp p
j
¢/
liegende Metalplatte
Ó ‰ œœœœœœ œ ‰ Œ Ó
∑
pp fff
ì&
100 q = 92 sub. e = 92 rit. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Pf
{ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘
fff pp fff p
Ex. 34. Chiffre V, 93-103.
Vn1 & 4 æ
ord.
4 nœ ≈nœ
6 6
æR # œ œ œ b>œbœ.
6 6 6
nœ# œ œ œ bœbœ œ# œ œ œ œ bœbœnœ# œ # œ œ œ bœbœ

n œ œ . n œ œ .v v .
> vv v v v > vv v > v v > vv v v > v v v > n œv œv
Repetition as Questioning
Within the framework of postmodernism, to recall the music from the past
can be considered as questioning the past, as looking for its actual meaning.
The search of what remains from the original meaning of a musical
phenomenon of the past can happen by extreme concentration on that
element. This implies the repetition of this element over a long time. This
can explain the series of repeated rolls on four bass drums, opening the
orchestral work Sub-Kontur (1974-75), the repeated timpani strokes at the
beginning of Dis-Kontur or the continuous short crescendos on repeated
string chords in the first bars of Nature Morte – Still Alive.
To this end, Rihm removes the phenomenon from its original context,
as a topic of the romantic symphonic world, and places it in his own
composition, excessively emphasised through obsessive repetition. I
demonstrated already in the previous chapter how this “zooming” process
is borrowed from fine arts.
The phenomenon of repetition turns from confirmation into its
opposite: repetition becomes an element of questioning.
Repetition as Writer’s Block

An exclusively personal approach to repetition is embedded in the act of
composing. When Rihm gets blocked, not knowing how to continue, he
reacts in a very personal way. He is not waiting in silence to find a solution,
but repeats the crucial “blocking” element obsessively, until the “way out”
of the “labyrinth” is found.
Usually, the actual reason is that I’m trying to find out how to proceed
when I’ve come to an impasse in the composing process. I am not the
type of artist who erases any traces of emergence; quite the contrary.
The insistence on and the search for a way out are embodied,
specifically, in the sound and the sound description. These moments
are not removed from the score to be replaced by the finished version,
or the way out, or the solution to the problem.5
For Rihm, this kind of writer’s block repetition deals with energy and
expressivity:
Such [a moment] intensifies itself; it remains suspended, time and

again, remains suspended yet again, even deeper ... it also loses energy
... Suddenly, however, the suspension and lingering becomes an
expressive value in itself: a physical gesture of the trembling, the
vibrating of the music, the whole musical body quivers.6
Repetition as Unique Event

Repeated passages are so exceptional in Rihm’s music that they can be
considered as “unique events” or Einzelereignisse. Only in two compositions
of the Chiffre cycle does he compose repeated passages: twice in Chiffre III:
respectively 15 bars (bars 89-103) and 28 bars (bars 125-152, the end of the
piece), and in Bild (eine Chiffre), where two bars are repeated (bars
119-120).
Repetition versus Generating Elements

“Generating elements” of a “generative pole” can be considered as the
replacement of “repetition” by Rihm. Due to his endless imagination, the
elaboration of a generated element is obvious and has priority over
repetition. This was already largely elaborated in chapter 1: the unexhausted
material can continue to generate elements until the composer decides that
it shall come to an end. The aspect of repetition is restricted to the
recognisability of the original generative pole in the generated elements,
which does not mean that complete metamorphosis should be excluded.
Repetition in the Context of Style

Different from the immediate repetition of a sound or a figure and also
different from musical elements returning in different pieces as generated
elements is the concept of “repetition” as returning concepts, gestures or
elaborations, leading to a recognisable style. On Bálint András Varga’s
question “How far can one speak of a personal style and where does self-
repetition start?” Rihm replied in 1982:
I question the very notion of personal style: in my view, ‘personal’ is

the antithesis of ‘style’. ‘Style’ – it is something artificial, it is a trademark.
‘Personal’ – it is surging, it is freedom, at least it ought to be. In any
case, you cannot coerce anyone to be individual – least of all an artist.
... Self-repetition is basically the same thing as style. It excludes the
personal – something which in music we can still only characterise
through sound.7
To establish a style is not Rihm’s purpose. The avoidance of self-repetition

is a tool to prevent the possible establishment of a recognisable style.
Further exploration of the unknown could be considered as an enlargement
of the idea of the generative pole and generated elements. The composer
sees himself as a generator of new musical creations, without the need to
repeat himself.
6
Nature and Proportions
M ore between the lines than explicitly, Rihm’s predilection for nature
as a metaphor appears in a variety of ways: in nature, the “logic” of
the coherence (an apparently essential requirement for music) is replaced
by the “urge” of the plant to grow, to grow wild, to emerge on the surface in
unexpected, unpredictable and unforeseeable places. As mentioned before
in relation to Fortspinnung (see p. 79) Rihm’s preferred example is the
mushroom, visible on the surface, while the mycelium, the whole linking
network of threads or rhizome, stays invisible under the ground.1 He looks
for places where growth is possible – his “appetite for language” urges him
to opt for neologisms, such as Fühlerwuchs or “growth feeling” –, aware of
the difficult relationship between nature and system, something he
expresses as Die Konvulsion vom Organischen zum Mechanischen or “the
convulsion of the organic into the mechanical” in the context of Chiffre V
for instance. Another neologism is Gestaltwuchs or “figure growth”,
introduced by Rihm in his comment on Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5.
One of the first entries of the term “growth” is found in Rihm’s important
early essay Der geschockte Komponist, when he states that “musical order”
often obeys the character of laws of nature and that the total organisation of
a musical piece is experienced as Wildwuchs or “wild growth”. Until today,
the composer repeats his obsession with growth, connected to “the
dynamic”, “the energy” and “the flow”, daring to define music as follows in
2012: “… what I believe that music really is: a free form of growth, an image
of human-possible processes of growth forms.”2
Rhizome
Since Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari published Rhizome in 1976, which
became the opening chapter of Mille Plateaux in 1980, many artists have
123
shown their interest in the rhizome philosophy and the possible applications
of rhizome structure to art. This concept has been of great value in
rethinking music and musical processes, which was described by Edward
Campbell in 2013 in his book Music after Deleuze. Campbell not only refers
to Aperghis, Boulez, Dusapin, Goebbels, Grisey, Lachenmann (and many
others), but also to jazz improvisation, twentieth-century micro-tonality
and experimental pop music. However, Rihm is not mentioned in
Campbell’s study.3 On the other hand, Rihm does not once refer to Deleuze
in ausgesprochen.
Daniel Ender relates Rihm’s “overpainting” technique to the Deleuzian
philosophy of “proliferation” (Wucherung, prolifération), a possible
consequence of the rhizome concept.4 Ulrich Dibelius thinks that the
rhizome is at the base of returning opening pitch f# in the Fifth, Sixth and
Seventh String Quartet. First, he excludes that three times could be by
chance. Than he looks for Rihm’s reason to start three quartets with the
same pitch and points out that the same f# also plays an important role in
the string quartet Zwischenblick: “Selbsthenker!”, albeit not as opening
pitch. For Dibelius the importance of f# is explained by Rihm himself: it is
the central tone, the middle of the whole ambitus of the string quartet and
therefore it formed a suitable starting point or base. With a nod to one of
Rihm’s preferred metaphors, the rhizome or mycelium and the mushrooms,
Dibelius describes how the three quartets with the shared f# are comparable
to plants with a common root.5
I stressed the fact that Rihm does not feel any relation to the ethnic
aspects in the artworks of his friend Kurt Kocherscheidt. Now, I can refine
this statement, confirming that Rihm certainly has a connection with the
natural aspects of Kocherscheidt’s ethnical orientation.
Proportions in Nature
Proliferation and wild growth, Wucherung and Wildwuchs, could be the
easy connectable consequences of the composition method without
preplanning, preparation or sketching beforehand. Rihm stresses the growth
potential of each figure, of each musical element he composes. But the
growth in nature or natural growth is not completely chaotic, is absolutely
not without any internal kind of order. The invisible mycelium is responsible
6 – Nature and Proportions 125
for the result, the visible and audible “fruits” of the composition. The
mycelium creates the invisible coherence. The mycelium as Fortspinnung
must be responsible for the growth. Perhaps this kind of growth can be
defined as “unclear order”, as order and disorder at once, or as coherence
and the negation of it on a higher level, with a higher complexity and
therefore not recognised as “natural beauty”. Natural beauty stands as a
“model” for universal beauty. Natural beauty is based on proportions: on
symmetry, on balance and on the golden section. This is not a “mental leap”
or a too fast jumping to conclusions. In my opinion, the fact that proportional
data are found in Rihm’s music results from this basic natural and universal
concept of beauty. Moreover, intuition and proportion can go hand in hand.
Rihm is able to keep a lot of data in his memory without feeling the need to
write it down on paper, which means without “preplanning”. While he is a
hard worker, his “métier” – a preferred term in his personal vocabulary –
makes his intuition “sharp”. A composer with such an experience or métier
knows by heart and without preplanning where the golden section and the
middle will be located and how to deal with Fibonacci numbers when he
thinks about a new composition, about the total duration and the average
tempo of it, even before putting the first note on the paper. It is more
interesting to discuss how these special and single moments, the proportional
locations, are defined and when they are not applied to this intuition-
proportion-métier context.
Symmetry and Balance

Rihm considers symmetry as a kind of play:
… often I play with symmetry. Indeed, it has a lot to do with playing. I

start dividing a unit and then dividing further in unequal parts, bigger
and smaller. Then, I start to hide the smaller parts in the bigger ones.6
This quotation does not refer to a particular composition, but using “often”
(manchmal) is an indication of a repeated technique. Indeed, the “looking
backwards” technique and the remembrance of what is already written in
the “planning while composing” can cause much more than “coherence”
(see p. 42). The assignment of a pivotal function to a place in a score can
cause symmetrical placement of elements; the pivot could even be in the
middle of the composition. Referring to Dunkles Spiel for four percussionists

and ensemble (1988-90) Rihm relates that he had to lay the score aside for
a year before finding what could be “a longer passage in the middle, where
almost nothing happens”. He further explains that this finding brought “the
solution for the continuation of the composition”.7
Although this is not explicitly said, the quotation above clearly implies
that, at a certain moment, Rihm makes a decision about the composition’s
middle or middle section. Such a decision, obviously taken during the
composition’s process and not beforehand, has its consequences. Making a
decision about the middle implies a decision about the entire length and
duration of the composition, or more specifically about the length of what is
still to be worked out. For instance, the emphasis given to the middle of a
work can provoke possibilities for symmetrical elaboration and proportioned
elements. That the middle of a composition is given special attention is also
stated in other analyses. To restrict these to one example: Papachristopoulos
describes “almost the middle” of Ins Offene… (1990, first version; 1990/92,
second version) as a climactic moment, as the moment where the metric
clarity dominates, as the middle of a bow form development, and therefore
even as the moment “aimed at” from the beginning of the piece with
augmenting density, dynamics and tempo, growing hectic, enlarging
orchestra, one by one increasing and intensifying elements.8
By combining the preference for symmetry with the hiding and playing
element mentioned in the quotation above, the search for symmetry and
hidden symmetry is not easy to undertake for the analyst. Smaller or larger
degrees of divergence can make the symmetry less apparent. The possibility
to find what Rihm calls “hidden symmetry” really depends on the degree of
“hiddenness”. Only very tentative presumptions or hypotheses can result
from the analysis. The analyst has to accept that his result will never be
perfect symmetry, but rather “almost” or “nearly”, with a certain margin of
error, a margin of tolerance or with slight differences as “part of the game”.
This was already the case in the composition sketch analysed in Ex. 2 (see
p. 47).
Alluding to Hanslick’s definition of music as tönend bewegte Form or
“sounding moving form”, in an interview Rihm is questioned about tönend
bewegte Ordnung or “sounding moving order”. Aware of the classical
identification of order with symmetry, Rihm warns in his answer for an
order that is “immobilised” or “blocked” and cannot longer be “moved” or

bewegt. For him, the term bewegt is the most important in the allusion to
Hanslick’s definition as he concludes that “a moving order is an order
brought into disorder” and that “music is able to dissolve order, to confront
the order with a counterpart”.9 Using completely different arguments than
playing and hiding, Rihm explains here that symmetry becomes interesting
only when it is “order with the ability of moving”; in other words, provided
that the symmetry is imperfect and not aimed at as a perfect stasis. Again
for Rihm, two opposites, order and disorder, do not exclude each other
when it comes to structural purposes or more precisely symmetry.
For all these reasons, symmetry should always be considered in relation
to balance. The term “balanced symmetry” can be defined as the result of
what Rihm explains in the quotation at the beginning of this paragraph:
(1) a game with symmetrical elements that are partly hidden; deduced
from the second quotation; (2) imperfect symmetry with elements that are
different but in balance; (3) balanced symmetry can be a “moving” or
“flexible” symmetry, compounded with almost equal or clearly dissimilar
elements.
The introduction of the concept of “balanced symmetry” can be helpful
in the search for hidden and flexible symmetry. A long sustained note can
be “symmetrically balanced” to a repeated pitch in a regular or even
irregular fast rhythm. A melodic element can be balanced with a
transposition, combined with different dynamics and articulation. Indeed,
elements of balanced symmetry can have a completely different expression
and content, even resulting in the “balance of opposites”, the “balance of
contrasts”, which brings me to the title of one of Rihm’s interviews: Der
Taumel der Gegensätze im Gleichgewicht or The Vertigo of Oppositions in
Balance.10
In his analysis of Rihm’s Fourth String Quartet (1980-81) and the
composition Über die Linie for violoncello solo (1999), two compositions
separated by nearly two decades, Gerhard Winkler twice finds a huge
number of different symmetrical elements: he lists mirror symmetries
(Spiegelsymmetrien), disturbed symmetries, and symmetries with insertions
accentuating the middle of the symmetrical element. Consequently, he asks
the question whether symmetry could be a structural characteristic of
Rihm’s music. He is looking forward to a thorough research on this topic,
while as to his knowledge Rihm has not given much comment on the use of
such structuring models. Therefore, Winkler insists on the necessity of
leaving behind Rihm’s own “traces” or indications in his texts and start
analysing with independent insights. At the same time, he is aware that
Rihm on the one hand very often applies “quasi work models” (quasi
Arbeitsmodelle), which are indeed analysable, but on the other hand breaks
off and takes down these models or “drops” them once their potential is
exhausted in a certain compositional context.11
Proportions in Music
The quotation at the beginning of the previous paragraph about “playing
with symmetry” was borrowed from Blumröder’s conversation with
Wolfgang Rihm, dated 2002. It must be remarked that Blumröder’s question
was in fact not on symmetry, but on the use of “mathematic proportions”.
Searching for adequate analytical methods to apply to Rihm’s music, his
statement was in fact: “Knowing that your music is first of all not designed
by sketches by means of mathematical proportions, it makes no sense to
choose that kind of structural analytical approach.”12 Mathematical
proportions are typical of Karlheinz Stockhausen, Rihm’s composition
teacher in Cologne in 1972-73. As quoted earlier, in an interview from 2006
with members of the Ensemble Sospeso, Rihm confirmed this as an
influence: “Stockhausen had taught me the significance of intuition and,
above all, a sure sense of duration and proportion.”13 Of course, Rihm
mentioned Stockhausen and his sense of proportions earlier in interviews,
as in 1979 for instance: “I received different impulses from Stockhausen. …
But thinking in terms of ‘process’ and ‘moment’ is very important for me. …
More than anyone else, Stockhausen has developed the sense for proportions
and durations.”14
While Rihm suggests his attention for proportions and his awareness of
its importance in general, he never mentions or alludes to specific
proportions, such as the golden section and the Fibonacci series in his texts
or interviews. Besides Papachristopoulos and Winkler, other scholars also
dealt with it. According to the Dutch composer Edward Top, who
participated in workshops with Rihm and published an analysis of Rihm’s
Third String Quartet, Im Innersten, the fifth and penultimate movement of
this quartet “appears to be at the Golden Section point in the composition.”15

How Wolf Frobenius analyses Sub-Kontur will be explained in the next
chapter. Richard McGregor does mention both proportions in his in-depth
analyses of the Fourth String Quartet and Chiffre I.16
7
Studying Proportions
P roportions belonged to the daily practice of serial and post-serial

composers. For Rihm, studying with Stockhausen certainly implied a
(renewed) confrontation with a rational proportional outline and
development of music, based on the Formelkomposition, the Ausgangsformel
and the Superformel. Despite Rihm distancing himself from the ideology
and the content of the messages spread by Stockhausen from the early
1970s on, he underlined the importance of his teacher’s sound organisation
principles and did not hide his admiration for “the multitude out of the
single, the unity of micro and macro structure”. On the occasion of
Stockhausen’s fiftieth birthday in 1978, Rihm began his laudation zooming
in on “proportion” in all kinds of meaning in connection with Stockhausen’s
personality.1
Rihm makes a distinction between intuitive and unconscious use of
proportions on the one hand and intended proportions on the other. It also
becomes immediately clear that he is not applying proportions in a vigorous
or consequent and logical way, matching his non-system based viewpoint.
Part of a composition can be organised by strict proportions, while in
another part proportions can be looser, and again in another part the same
kind of proportions can be completely absent.
For the analyst, proportions can only be based on objective musical
data, such as lengths in bars or number of bars and particular events
structuring the score, since they happen at a specific moment, such as the
middle of the score or the location of the golden section. The study of the
sketch (see Ex. 2, p. 47) made clear that it is necessary to take a certain
freedom in analysing Rihm’s music. However, for proportions, results can
only be accepted convincingly and satisfactorily with a very restricted
tolerance or counting in a minimal margin of error. While Rihm’s scores
are rather hectic in many passages, a lot of events take place over a short
time. It is not unthinkable that the analyst tries too hard to find something
131
that makes his presumed proposition work. It is necessary to stay as object

ive as possible and to avoid all results which are not based on “hard” data.
An interesting question is whether the proportions found in lengths in
bars coincide with the timing of the recordings of Rihm’s compositions. To
be able to have an idea of it, I compared the timing of the middle bar of
some compositions, which exist in more than one recording (Table 1). The
result is rather satisfactory: even with a relatively great difference in total
duration, the moments of the middle of the pieces are more or less
coinciding. This means that my analysis of proportions based on lengths in
bars, leaving timing out, is acceptable.
Composition Performer Duration Middle Bar %

Chiffre I musikFabrik, Asbury 9:31 4:41 49.2
Klangforum, Cambreling 8:51 4:19 48.8
Chiffre II musikFabrik, Asbury 13:10 6:53 52.3
Klangforum, Cambreling 12:50 6:36 51.4
Chiffre IV musikFabrik, Asbury 8:46 4:22 49.8
ensemble recherche 10:20 5:15 50.8
String Quartet no. 5 Arditti String Quartet 25:52 12:52 49.7
Minguet Quartett 29:58 15:12 50.7
String Quartet no. 8 Arditti String Quartet 15:03 7:58 52.9
Minguet Quartett 15:15 7:46 50.9
Table 1. Timing comparison. Percentages in the right column indicate the duration
of the first half relative to the total duration (of 100%); in other words, the
place of middle, which must be around 50%.
Dis-Kontur, Sub-Kontur and Klavierstück Nr. 4

Composing in an intuitive way does neither exclude the “accidental genesis”
of proportions, nor their conscious application later on. In that sense, the
proportion 5:7:2:9 was generated unintentionally during the compositional
process of Dis-Kontur and later on applied to other compositions.
In the intuitive, almost automatic notation of the beginning of the

work, I found persevering proportions. I let them then become binding
for the whole piece. The at first only rhythmically pronounced
proportion 5:7:2:9 was spread over other parameters.2
7 – Studying Proportions 133
Rihm does not give more details on how this proportion was further
elaborated. The rhythmical proportion is presented by the solo of the big
hammer in units of crotchets and rests in the opening bars: the first sound
is followed by four beats rest, what makes a duration of 5 crotchets, the
second by six beats rest (7), the third by only one beat rest (2) and the
fourth by eight beats rest (9) (Ex. 36).
^. 5 ^. 7
^. 2 ^. 9
^.
Big hammer / 44 œ Œ Ó Œ œÓ ∑ œŒ œŒ ∑ Œ
Ó [ œ]
sfffz sfffz sfffz sfffz sfffz
Ex. 36. Dis-Kontur, 1-6.
The members of the proportion are extrapolated from number of beats to

numbers of bars with a total of 5 + 7 + 2 + 9 = 23 bars. The first and second
units of 23 bars (bars 1-46) are set for percussion solo. In the third unit
(bars 47-69) the other instrumental groups are added one by one, playing
mostly repeated and sustained sounds, meanwhile the order within the
proportion is changed into 7:2:5:9 (Table 2).
Proportion Bar Comment

1-23 Unit 1
5 1-5 big hammer
7 6-12 bass drum, big hammer
13 interpolated G.P.
2 14-15 bass drum, big hammer
9 15-23 timpani, bass drum, big hammer
23-46 Unit 2
timpani, 2 bass drums, big hammer, 2 tomtoms
5 23-28
starting on bar 23/2 instead of 24
7 29-30 interpolated G.P.
31-36 timpani, bass drum and big hammer
2 36-38 timpani
9 38-46 timpani, bass drum, big hammer
47-70 Unit 3
7 47-53 harps, percussion, strings
2 54-55 percussion, strings
5 56-60 woodwinds, percussion, strings
9 61-70 woodwinds, brass, strings (no percussion) 10 bars
Table 2. Dis-Kontur, 1-70. Elaboration proportion 5:7:2:9.

Once all instrumental groups are introduced, the music starts to move in a
hectic way by crossing, ascending and descending movements in fast
rhythms (bar 71 ff.). From this moment on, the end of a unit and the
approaching beginning of the next one are announced by a musical “event”:
a change in time signature and/or tempo. Just before the start of the fourth
unit, the time signature changes to 5/4 for one bar (bar 67). The ending of
the following unit (bars 70-92) is suddenly much faster, with one bar 5/8
(bar 84) and an accelerando (bars 85-89), falling back to the original tempo
of q = 60 (bar 90), followed by another time signature change: 5/4 for two
bars (bars 91-92). This next unit (bars 93-115) is characterised by unstable
tempo and time signature, respecting the same proportion of numbers of
bars.
Analysing the units at the beginning of Dis-Kontur, I find a series of
proportion characteristics or principles. This series forms the beginning of
a proportion typology:
- O ne of the proportion members functions as factor.

- The number of all the members of the proportion series, the total or
number of bars, functions as a formal unit.
- Th e order of the proportion members may be changed.
- Th e proportions are used with some flexibility, such as prolongations
and interpolations.
- Th e duration of the reference member (defined as 1) can be augmented,
for instance from one beat to four or one bar, which will be described
as “wider” and “narrower” in the paragraph below.
- Th e groups of bars to which the ratio is applied are clearly distinguished
by changing musical content; musical elements can function as
announcement for the division into units.
- The proportion can be applied to different parameters. This last
characteristic makes the proportion less “visible” at the surface.
Dis-Kontur does not seem to be an isolated case, as I will illustrate by shortly

commenting on Paraphrase, Klavierstück Nr. 4 (1974), and Sub-Kontur.
Paraphrase (1972-73, for cello, piano and percussion) holds a special place
because it was composed mostly during his period of study with
Stockhausen: Rihm reports on “the free choice of system coercion”.
Paraphrase is “a freely conceived serial composition” based on “always

wider and narrower shaped proportions” (immer weiter oder enger geformte
Proportionen). While this comment was written seven years later, in 1979,
he adds that “nowadays” he “emanates from freer premises” than at the
time of Stockhausen-like exercises.3 This enlarges the typology started
above:
- The ratios may be applied rather loosely.
Quoting Rihm’s comment on Klavierstück Nr. 4, yet another characteristic

can be added:
In April 1974, in the middle of my work on Dis-Kontur for large

orchestra, I composed Klavierstück Nr. 4. With the following effect: the
piano piece copies the basic proportion 5:7:2:9 from the orchestral
piece. As is the case in the latter, here also this proportion forms the
starting point – source, not standard – for rhythm (duration), melody,
harmonic and formal developments.4
- The same proportion series can be the subject of different compositions.
Rihm adds that the proportions are applied “in a terse way” (gedrängt) and
without excessive elaborations in Klavierstück Nr. 4. A last principle, related
to Rihm’s fundamental claim of freedom as a composer, is added here:
- Th
e proportion is only a starting point, a source, without becoming a
norm or rule. In other words, proportions can be applied in a very
strict “mathematically correct” way, but also approximated or rather
loose.
As early as 1981, in his analysis of the orchestral work Sub-Kontur, Wolf

Frobenius already pointed out Rihm’s use of proportions. He declared this
to be a Stockhausen influence. Inclined towards an explanation inspired by
Stockhausen’s chromatic tempo scale, Frobenius explains how the tempi of
Sub-Kontur, indicated by metronome numbers, are based on the proportion
10:9 combined with 2:1. To obtain his results he has to take into account
too many exceptions compared to the clear and simple ratio worked out by
Rihm in Dis-Kontur. Moreover, Frobenius adds that the real tempo of the
music lies more in the duration of the notes than in the metronome
numbers: an incontestable fact that makes it even more difficult to interpret
proportions in Rihm’s works. He concludes that the tempo disposition of
Sub-Kontur is without precedent in Rihm’s oeuvre and that, in contrast,
other structural components are worked out by traditional means.5
Schwebende Begegnung
With great exception Rihm reveals some details of his compositional
methods. In the two volumes of ausgesprochen, this happens in the most
exhaustive way in his description of the orchestral work Schwebende
Begegnung (1988-89). The composition was written during the period of
close relationship with Luigi Nono, whose post-serial technique of
developing pitch series is recognisable when Rihm explains how nine
pitches are presented at the beginning of the piece, organised into small
cells closing with fermatas (in kleine Einheiten, die durch Fermaten von
einander getrennt sind).6 What Rihm does not mention is the fact that the
fermatas are found in bars 2, 7, 10 and 18, the length of the cells defining as
2, 5, 3 and 8 bars, respectively. Without exception, these are the opening
figures of the Fibonacci series, but also larger Fibonacci numbers (13, 21,
34, 55, 89) function as indicators of striking events in Schwebende
Begegnung: fermata in bar 33 (starting a new passage in the next Fibonacci
bar 34) and “unique” repetition of two bars (bars 54-55). Bar 89 puts an end
to a chorale-like melody in the string instruments, started eight bars earlier.
Part of the introduction of the nine pitches is the descending scale fragment
b-a-g-f in semiquavers in the harp in bar 13.7 Not all Fibonacci numbers
have the same weight regarding musical content or structural function: the
only remarkable fact about bar 21 for instance is its function as final bar,
putting an end to the presentation of the series of short cells.
It is not before bars 98 and 100 that the still missing pitches of the
chromatic scale are introduced, pitch c and, as a dyad, pitches d and e,
respectively. This takes place 32 bars before the end of the piece (counting
129 bars) or exactly one quarter from the end. The end of the first quarter
of the piece is also clearly indicated and coincides exactly with the fermata
of bar 33 mentioned above. The middle of the piece, bars 64‑65, is marked
by a timbral change: the introduction of the membranophones. Up to this

point no membranophones had been heard, except for two notes on the
bongos, exactly at one quarter of the piece, again in bar 33. The bongos are
also the only percussion present at three quarters, in bars 97-98.
Related to the Fibonacci series is the application of the golden section
(129 x 0.618 = bars 79-80): from bar 81 on harmonics and a sustained
chord announce the already mentioned chorale-like melody. By the
alternations of time signatures another clear proportion is revealed: 72 bars
4/4 (bars 1-72) are followed by 16 bars of 6/4 (bars 73-88), whereafter the
return to 4/4 for 36 bars (bars 89-124) leads to the concluding 5 bars of 5/4
(bars 125-129). Counting in beats instead of bars the figures of the
proportion become 288:96:144:25. With the minimal margin of error of
one beat for the last term, 24 (25 – 1 = 24) should fit better in the series: the
proportion of 288:96:144:24 being exactly 12:4:6:1.
Striking musical characteristics mark the breaking points of the
proportions and therefore function as structural demarcations. It is
important to stress the fact that both characteristics are independent of
each other: not all musical striking events are structural markers at the
same time. To give an example of Schwebende Begegnung (Ex. 37): in the
repeated Fibonacci bars 54-55, the cellos and double basses continue the
previous musical element, a ricochet col legno note. Wind instruments
repeat the previous chord, before a staccatissimo repeated note together
with the harp: this musical element will catch the attention, it is even a
unique event in the whole piece, although it is without structural impact,
being placed in the course of a musical phrase (the new phrase starts in bar
52 after the general pause of bar 51).
The proportion typology started above can now be extended as follows:
- P
roportion series can be based on Fibonacci numbers. Fibonacci
series can function for structural purposes.
- P
roportions can be based on the golden section.
- P
roportion series over a whole composition divide the score in equal
parts, which can be expressed by symmetry, by 1:1 measuring the
length of the units, or by the ratio 1:2:3:4, making use of the bar
numbers.
° ‹4 ∑ Ó Œ nb#bœœœœ œœœœ Œ Ó
Picc &4
ppp
# nœœ œœœ
Cl
4
¢& 4 ∑ Ó Œ # œ Œ Ó
°? 4 n +œ
ppp
∑ Ó Œ nnn œœœ œœœœ Œ Ó

Hn 4
ppp
4
¢& 4
Tpt ∑ Ó Œ Œ Ó
bbb œœœ œœœ
° 4
‰ nœj
ppp
Perc 1 &4 ∑ ∑ Ó Œ
ppp
&4
4 ∑ ∑ Ó Œ ‰ nœj
‹
Perc 2
4
G.P. n œ. nœ ™ œ œ ppp
Perc 3 &4 ∑ Ó Œ R ≈ ‰ ≈ J J ‰ Œ
p secco ppp
Perc 4
4
&4 ∑ ∑ ∑
4 j
Perc 5
¢& 4 ∑ ∑ Œ nœ œ ‰ Œ
o
ppp
r r
sul la tavola ord.
Hp
4
&4 ∑ œ. ≈ ‰ ‰ œ. ≈ Ó Ó ‰ j Œ
v v n œ l.v.
sfz sfz >
4 r
mp marc.
Pf &4 ∑ ∑ Œ nœ. ≈ ‰ Ó
° 4 æj ‰ ‰ œæ æj
mf
ricochet
j
&4 ∑ n>œ Ó Œ n>œ ‰ Ó
>
Vc
mf mf mf
n>œ >œ n>œ

ricochet
? 44 æJ ‰ ‰ æJ æJ
Db
¢ ∑ Ó Œ ‰ Ó
mf mf mf
° ‹ ™ b b œ™ ,
™™
54
& ™ n # œœœ ™™
staccatissimo!
Picc œœœœ. . . . . . . . . . . . ‰ ∑
n œ™
™ ## œœ ™ œœœ. . . . . . . . . . . . , ™™
ppp p
¢& ™
3 3 3 3
Cl ‰ ∑
°? ™nnnnœœœœo ™™™
ppp p
+. +. +. +.
3
™™
3 3 3
b#nnœœœœ ≈ œœœœ ≈ œœœœ ≈ œœœœ ≈ ‰

Hn ™ R R R R ∑
,
™ ™™
secco
¢& ™ nnbœœ. . . . . . . . . . . . ‰
ppp p
∑
bbb œœœ ™™
Tpt
° ™ ppp .j
‰ nœj ™™
& ™ œ nœ Œ nœç ‰
3 3 3 3
p staccatissimo
Perc 1 Ó Œ Œ
^.
& ™™ Œ nœçj ‰ nœj ™™
mp 3 ppp
j
l.v.
œ ‰ Œ Ó Ó
‹
Perc 2
( >)
bœ œ ,
& ™™ ™™
sffz ppp
Perc 3 Ó Œ ‰ J Œ Ó
( >) beim 2. Mal: ff ,
ppp
Perc 4 & ™™ Ó Œ bœ œ Œ Ó ™™
ppp
>
™ ™™
¢& ™
( ) beim 2. Mal: ff
Perc 5 Ó Œ bœ œ Œ Ó
^.
sul la tavola n n œœ . . .
ppp beim 2. Mal: ff
nnnnœœœœ nnnnœœœœ nnnnœœœœ o o o
& ™™ ™™
n n œœ (ord.)
Hp Œ ‰ J J ‰ Œ ‰ Œ
œ
>œ > œ
>
& ™™ ™™
secco sffz sffz sffz sffz mf l.v. mp
Pf Ó Œ nnœœ œœ Œ Ó
° ™ æj ‰ Œ æj ™™
pp
& ™ n>œ
ricochet col legno
Ó Œ nœ ‰ Ó
>
Vc
sffz sffz
n>œ n>œ
ricochet col legno
? ™ æJ æJ ™™
Db
¢ ™ ‰ Œ Ó Œ ‰ Ó
sffz sffz
Ex. 37. Schwebende Begegnung, 51-55.

- P
roportion indicators can belong to diverse musical parameters; to
put it the other way around: all kind of musical elements can be
involved in the proportional demarcations.
- D
ifferent kinds of proportions can function in one and the same
composition.
String Quartet no. 4

In turn, the structural basis of the second movement Con moto, allegro of
Rihm’s Fourth String Quartet, is formed by the Fibonacci series and further
by combining Fibonacci numbers such as 34 + 13 = 47.
According to Richard McGregor, there is a certain parallelism with the
structure of the first movement, also based on the Fibonacci series.8 In the
first half, bar numbers 13, 34 and 55 are marked by a particular event. Once
past bar 55, Fibonacci numbers are no longer found. This shows again how
Rihm does not consequently apply a system, or how a system can be used
only momentarily.
Proportion Typology
In the previous paragraphs, the study of the proportions applied to different
compositions resulted in a proportion typology. One of the critical elements
in this typology is the fact that different kinds of proportion can function
in one and the same composition. This raises the question whether it makes
sense to mix proportional possibilities in one and the same artwork. An
answer to that question can be found in different mixed applications of the
most important proportion “laws”: the application of symmetry and the
golden section. Both symmetry or quasi-symmetry and golden section are
found in a mixed way in nature. The human body combines symmetry with
golden section: symmetry is more horizontal or left and right, for instance
in both limbs and in the human face in both eyes, ears, nostrils etc., while
single elements such as the mouth and the nose are placed in the middle or
central, forming an axis for symmetrical elements. In turn, in the human
body the golden section is found in a vertical way, in proportions within
each limb, for instance the length of the forearm compared to the upper
arm. The same double proportion of symmetry and golden section is
present in objects made by men, such as architecture and painting, or, to

give a musical example, the way the violin is built.
The next step is the mixture of both in music composition itself. A
master example is the first movement of Béla Bartók’s Music for Strings,
Percussion and Celesta. Bartók applies the Fibonacci series to the treatment
of the fugue theme: 55 bars (bars 1-55) with the original theme followed by
34 bars (bars 56-89) with its inversion. This formal elaboration is combined
with timbre applications, for instance from bar 34 on the strings play senza
sordino. Next to the golden section or Fibonacci numbers applied here, the
middle of the movement (bar 44) is indicated by a compact polyphonic
moment where the fugue theme is presented on eb, the tritone pole of the
original and first presentation on pitch a.
As in nature and in objects, Bartók’s example clearly shows that different
proportional modes can be applied to one and the same composition.
However, there is one restriction, in fact an important difference between
the two proportional modes. While the Fibonacci series is clearly applied in
a proportional way, the indication of the middle of the piece does not
automatically give rise to symmetrical elements, either in the accentuation
of places symmetrical with respect to the middle of the score or in the
elaboration of phrases or periods of equal duration.
The final step is the combination of the golden section with the axis of
the middle of a piece. Applying the golden section in both ways (short-long
versus long-short or 0.618 versus 0.382), two places symmetrical to the
central axis are revealed.
PART II
Analysis
8
Integrated Approach
I n most cases, classical methods of analysis are characterised by the

isolation of parameters, which are to be considered one by one, next to
the division of a score into entities defined by an emphasised parameter
(such as the presentation of a melodic theme or a moment of polyphonic
development). Priority is always given to the same parameter(s) in the
foreground: the melodic element in the first place, the harmonic and tonal
aspects as second, whereas rhythm and certainly dynamics and timbre are
mostly considered as secondary or subordinate to pitch qualities and pitch
treatment. For Rihm’s works, however, an integrated approach is definitely
the most fruitful method of analysis, “glued” to the composer’s techniques.
Sound as a Whole
Rihm’s basic technique is the immediate design of each sound as
individuality and complete entity at the same time. There is no sequentiality
starting with the choice of a pitch, continuing for instance with the addition
of articulation, dynamics, expression, to finalise with the definition of the
instrument. Each sound is directly set as a whole: pitch, duration, dynamics,
articulation and timbre are composed at once. Therefore octaves are
absolutely not exchangeable because of the timbral consequences, for
instance. As a consequence, a “small” piano version before the instrum
entation of a complete score is unthinkable as is the replacement of one
instrument by another.
For Rihm, each sound possesses its own “aura”. His compositional
method is not focused on the pitch but aimed at the “integral sound”, the
Gesamterfindung.1 A good illustration of his method is found in his
comments on the “simple” opening pitch of Antlitz. Zeichnung für Violine
und Klavier:
145
146 Part II – Analysis
The genesis started from a setting, the pitch g, although already an

instrumented start, a sound-object in itself as given by the piano and
the violin, and by its resonance. So, it is in fact not only a pitch g, but
in its appearance already an individual with a nose, a mouth, a face, a
gaze. It is not only a pitch, a value, but it is precisely that individual
event with its vibration and its duration. A body.2
To depict a sound as a “body” or a physical being is constant in Rihm’s

vision. Eleven years earlier, he had already mentioned the fact that “the
sound has a face”, a “physiognomy” and therefore it is irreplaceable.3 The
“gaze” of the sound returns once more in the quotation below, another
illustration of Rihm’s striving for originality of each created sound:
Therefore, the harmony – the sound inside colour, the incolouring of

its inner space – is no longer retrievable from a previously definable
syntax, nor can the instrumental, materialised timbre – the utterance
of the sound, its ‘gaze’ – be subject to a fundamental pre-understanding.
The only possible sound is always the different, new sound.4
Designed as a whole, a string quartet is no longer polyphony of four

instruments, nor a dialogue of four individuals. For Rihm it is one sounding
“body” merging all parameters in an integrated way.5 Consequently, Rihm
can endorse Busoni, who aims at melting harmony and melody into an
indissoluble unity and who tries to learn to deny the difference between
consonance and dissonance – which is also important for Rihm.6
Even when each sound was to be conceived as a whole, it is clear that
the composer always emphasises one or a few parameters. Reconciling
Rihm’s obsession with originally created total sound and the classical
single-parameter analysis described above, a key for analysis can be defined
by the shifting interaction of foreground and background parameters. As a
consequence, it is still justifiable to treat the parameters one by one,
prioritising the foreground parameters, on one condition: the awareness of
the context of the texture, of the whole parameter “polyphony”.
8 – Integrated Approach 147
Some Examples
In Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5, bars 470-492 (see Ex. 33, p. 117) an
example of timbre-dynamic-dissonance interaction is found: the dissonant
harmonics chord g-g#-c#-d, repeated simultaneously in semiquavers and
tremolo, result in a quasi-noise in fff, but in a quasi-sound when played ppp
and pppp; by diminuendo the noise factor decreases, passing from noise
into sound; and by replacing tremolo by slower semiquavers in homorhythm
and pppp, the degree of dissonance diminishes and again the degree of
timbral sound increases.7
In Chiffre V, bars 93-119 (see Ex. 34, p. 118), the piano right hand is
uninterruptedly repeating the dyad cluster a-bb in semiquavers, accom
panied from time to time by short interventions of percussion (snare drum,
metal plate) or piano left hand. The dyad becomes a sound object, a sharp
timbre loosening and losing its dissonant character, changing colour by the
moving presence of other elements: sharpening with percussion additions
and softening with piano left hand additions. The gradual and sudden
changes of tempo and dynamics, independent from each other, create
irregular shifts from hammered percussive piano to isolated “halo” sounds.
In both examples above, the restriction of the analysis to classical
foreground parameters, pitch and chord, would give a false picture of the
timbral shifts, a false “stasis” explanation. On the other hand, one must be
very sensitive so as to resist the pitfall of over-interpretation. In Klavierstück
Nr. 7, bars 173-179 (see Ex. 1, p. 39), for instance, the consonant triad
eb-g-bb, isolated and not part of a tonal allusion or context, is doubled with
four notes in each hand to obtain a massive sound. It is repeated in fff with
different accents and with some rhythmic changes (repeated semiquavers,
dotted rhythm, alternation of two semiquavers and a quaver, triplets).
Siegfried Mauser describes the consonant chord as the “heroic” key of
E-flat major, “the sharpest dissonance possible”, while “the basic emotion is
dissolved” and “the catastrophe deliberately takes place within the most old
fashioned and most familiar context”.8 For pianist Markus Bellheim this
passage sounds as “a hard-fought victory” and he links it to Rihm’s
predilection for subjects related to madness in the 1970s, interpreting the
consonant chord as “a scream against the suffering waves of madness.”9 The
references to “heroism” and “victory” are probably inspired by the opening
tonic chords of Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony in E-flat major, while Rihm’s
piano piece is based on Beethoven in several respects. Alastair Williams is

of the same opinion, describing this moment as “a passage where a tonal
chord becomes the most ‘dissonant’ section in the music”, although adding
that “it is repeated with such force that it is bleached of its traditional
meaning” and concluding that “Rihm’s hammering is eventually sufficient
to turn the chord into an object that is too battered to occupy comfortably
a tonal frame of reference.”10 In my opinion, the “dissonant” element in this
sequence is due to the interruption of the repeated consonant triad by
“strange” consonant chords: eb-g-bb, alternated by e-g-b and d-f#-a,
returning to eb-g-bb in bar 175; eb-g-bb leading to e-g-b in bar 179. Both
interruptions make the tonal fixed chord weak and wavering: they form a
disturbance (see also p. 161). Moreover, the real “collapse” happens
afterwards, in bar 180, where Rihm asks to repeat three times a chord of
eight notes consisting of four minor seconds (c-db-eb-e-gb-g-a-bb) in a way
he calls krachend, which can be approximated as “crashing” and “cracking”.
Integrated Analytical Tool

As said before, since analysing and saying all at once is an impossibility for
the analyst, the integrated approach as such may be undertaken by a
method based on the distinction between foreground and background
parameters (or foreground and background parameter combinations). This
method must take into account the parameter shifts from foreground to
background and vice versa. In order to realise this, an integrated analytical
tool must be developed.
To reach this aim, I must return to Rihm’s appreciation of Stockhausen.
Remembering his studies with Stockhausen, Rihm seems to have been very
impressed by the rehearsals of the new version of Momente in 1972 (Bonner
Version). He does not miss the opportunity to recall it in his lectures and
interviews. The concept of “moment” composing and “moment form” is in
line with this and found several times in Rihm’s utterances as well.11
Each “moment” of Stockhausen’s composition Momente is based on at
least one foreground element, or on the combination of two or three
foreground elements, or on the combination of foreground and background
elements. The difference between the foreground and the background is
made clear by using capital and small letters, respectively. In Momente the
elements are only three in number: M for melody-composition, K for Klang

or sound and D for Dauer or duration.12
Inspired by Momente, I developed an integrated analytical tool for
Rihm’s music, based on the typology of all important parameters or
elements he brings in (Table 3). Each moment is defined by the combination
of three main or foreground characteristics, appearing simultaneously in a
“polyphonic” way or consecutively in a passage. The method proved to be
fruitful by grouping foreground elements and leaving out background
elements.
Category Description
C Counterpoint, polyphony, simultaneity of different kinds of elements
D Duration, rhythmic element, also passage with unstable tempo
H Homorhythmic texture, harmonic element
P Pitch accentuation, melodic element
R Repetition of a single tone, a chord or a short element
S Sustained sound, sound space, resonance
T Timbre, colour, articulation
V Volume accentuation, dynamics, silence
Table 3. Parameter typology.
Moment Analysis of the Chiffre Cycle

In order to illustrate how this moment analysis is worked out, I add detailed
information on Chiffre I and II, followed by a synthesis of the moment
analysis of the whole cycle.
Both Chiffre I and II are divided into five sections (A-E).13 Each section
is divided into phrases (A1, A2 etc.). Some phrases coincide with a moment
because of sustained characteristics combinations. Other phrases are divided
into different moments; in this case the starting bar is given in the charts.
The moment overview of Chiffre I is given in Table 4; the spread of the
different moment types per section in Table 5.
A1 A2 A3 A4 A5 A6
1-3 3-21 21-27 27-31 32-41 41-43
RSV 3: DRS DPV DRS HPT RSV
7: DHR
11: DRT
17: HPV
B1 B2 B3 B4 B5
43-56 56-60 60-69 69-75 75-87
DPS PRS 60: HPR DPV HPS
67: PSV
C1 C2
88-96 96-108
HPT 96: CDP
101: HPT
105: PTV
D1 D2 D3 D4 D5 D6 D7
109-118 118-121 121-129 129-136 136-142 142-149 150-153
HST DPR DPR CPR 136: DHR 142: HSV CDR
140: PSV 147: DSV
E1 E2 E3
153-156 156-168 169-176
DHV CPR 169: HRV
173: HPV
Table 4. Chiffre I, moment overview.
Section Number Returning triple High presence High presence

Moments combination double single
A 9 DRS (2) DR (4) R (6)
RSV (2) RS (4) D (5)
B 6 - PS (4) P (6)
S (4)
C 4 HPT (2) PT (3) P (4)
HP (2) T (3)
HT (2) H (2)
D 9 DPR (2) DR (4) D (5)
R (5)
P (4)
S (4)
E 4 - HV (3) H (3)
V (3)
Table 5. Chiffre I, moments per section.

Referring to some score examples of Chiffre I (taking into account that

in most cases not the full score is given), the moment analysis can be
explained as follows:
- Th
e opening of the score (see Ex. 52, p. 214, bar 1, full score): RSV
indicates the pitch repetition in the piano combined with the
sustained sound in the other instruments, while dynamics define the
surrounding sound space.
- B
ars 37-38 (see Ex. 58, p. 245) are part of a HPT moment. The
presence of consonant dyads makes it a remarkable harmonic
moment; the pitch evolution is due to an important melodic figure
with ascending leaps (see p. 244). The high register of the piano is
marked as timbre.
- Th
e hectic piano solo (see Ex. 5, p. 79, bars 43-46) is labelled as DPS:
a hectic melodic element with repeated fast rhytm. That it is also
harmonically important is because of the underlying bourdon bass
notes (not in the example).
- Th
e combination DPR defines the ascending unison line in bars 121-
123: unison or attention to the melody is combined with fast rhythm
and (see Ex. 65, p. 252). The moment lasts until bar 129: repeated
notes follow the fragment in this example.
- I n the melodic element at the location of the golden section (see Ex.
73, p. 261, bars 105-110, full score) the PTV combination returns:
sustained notes create a melodic element with refined timbre and
articulations, embedded in silence.
- Th
e moment of gruppetto (see Ex. 6, p. 80, bars 138-142) shows the
end of a DHR-combination, a slow turn in unison, followed by PSV
for the fast turn in the piano, ffff.
For Chiffre I, the following can be concluded:

Section A is dominated by repeated and rhythmic elements; total
absence of counterpoint.
Section B brings melodic elements and stress on pitch in, together with
sustained notes and chords; total absence of counterpoint and timbre
concentration.
Section C continues melodic elements, this time combined with
harmonic and timbre attention; no repetition, nor sustained elements.
152
A1 A2 A3 A4 A5 A6 A7 A8 A9 A10
1-5 6-9 9-14 14-17 17-30 30-34 34-43 43-56 56-62 63-69
PSV HTV HSV CRV 17: DPR CHR 34: CPR 43: HPR RST 63: HPR
22: DPS 38: RTV 48: RST
26: DPR 53: PST
B1 B2
69-99 100-123
STV STV
C1 C2 C3 C4 C5 C6 C7 C8 C9
124-130 130-137 138-142 143-147 147-151 151-156 157-164 164-171 171-176
CPS 130: DPR HTV HPR CHR HPS HPT HPT DPR
135: HPV
D1 D2 D3 D4 D5 D6 D7
176-188 189-199 200-204 205-208 208-214 215-219 219-230
PRS PRV 200: DHR CDR HSV HPV 219: CPR
202: HRV 226: CSV
E1 E2
231-241 241-248
PRS PRS
Part II – Analysis
Table 6. Chiffre II, moment overview.

Section D combines what was in the foreground in sections A and B; it

is the first section containing all eight categories.
Section E changes in harmonic elements combined with dynamics; no
sustained nor timbral elements.
Section Number Returning triple High presence High presence

Moments combination double single
A 15 DPR (2) PR (5) R (10)
HPR (2) P (8)
RST (2)
B 2 STV (2) ST (2) S (2)
SV (2) T (2)
TV (2) V (2)
C 10 DPR (2) HP (5) P (8)
HPT (2) H (7)
D 9 - HV (3) R (6)
PR (3) V (5)
E 2 PRS (2) PR (2) P (2)
PS (2) R (2)
RS (2) S (2)
Table 7. Chiffre II, moments per section.
Score examples with moment analysis in Chiffre II (Table 6, Table 7):
- Th
e opening of the flute (see Ex. 67, p. 254, bars 1-3) is labelled PSV,
because this melodic element is accompanied by sustained chords,
leading to sustained fading notes.
- B
ars 53-56 are defined as PST: the brass timbre, the creation of a
sound space by the contrary movement, using a varied repeated cell
of two notes (see Ex. 62, p. 250).
- Th
e chorale-like melody is a HPS moment: melody in sustained notes,
combined with original dyads (see Ex. 3, p. 78; Ex. 70, p. 256, bars
153-156).
- B
ar 170 is part of an HPT moment: in the symmetrical building, the
chords are important and pitches develop chromatically. Timbre is
chosen because of the unison, involving woodwind, brass, piano and
string instruments in the bars before (see Ex. 77, p. 263, unison not in
the example).
- N
ear the end in bars 231-234 (see Ex. 19, p. 87; Ex. 66, p. 253),
sustained melodic elements are accompanied by repeated notes (not
given in the example): a PRS moment.
For Chiffre II, the following can be concluded:

Section A is divided into two halves: phrases A1-A4 are more directed
towards sustained sounds with much attention for dynamic movements.
The second part, A5-A10 is firstly dominated by melodic-rhythmic
elements, afterwards by the combination of repeated elements, sustained
sounds and timbral attention.
Section B is completely built upon one combination: sustained timbre
and dynamics development.
Section C again pays much attention to melodic elements, this time
combined with harmony and homorhythm.
Section D is mostly concentrated on repetition, combined with
dynamics.
The final section E is comparable to section B, restricted to only one
combination: sustained sounds together with melodic-rhythmic elements.
Applied to the Chiffre cycle, the result of my moment analysis shows a great
diversity, as a real escape from any system-based compositional possibility.
Following my moment analysis, Rihm indeed succeeds in realising the
maximal diversity in his “at once” compositional process.
Concerning similar moments (Table 8), in only four pieces of the cycle
does one moment combination of the same characteristics appear four
times. These four combinations are different, however, each time category
duration (D), is involved; in three cases this category is combined with
pitch accentuation (P); twice P is linked to repetition (R).
One to four combinations return three times in seven compositions of
the cycle. Here a great diversity is found. The combination PRS (pitch,
repetition, sustained) appears in three pieces; the formations DRV
(duration, repetition, volume) and HPS (homorhythm, pitch, sustained)
each in two pieces.
One to eight combinations are found twice in all pieces.
There is absolutely no priority given to certain combinations. Only the

moment combination of melo-rhythmic elements with repetition (DPR) is
recurrent and found in five pieces (Table 8).
Number of Ch Ch Ch Ch BildCh Ch Ch Ch
appearances I II III IV V VI VII VIII
4 – DPR – DPS DRT – – DHP –
3 HPT HPR DRT HSV DRV DHP – CDP –
PRS DRV RSV HPS PRS HPS
PRS PSV
STV
2 CPR CHR CPS PST DPR DPR DPR CPS DHS
DHR CPR DRS PSV DST DST RSV HPR
DPR HPT RST HSV HSV
DPV HPV PRT RSV
DRS HST PSV
HPV HSV RSV
PSV RST
RSV STV
Table 8. Chiffre cycle. Moment analysis. Overview of all moment combinations

appearing two, three or four times (four being the maximum).
Concerning unique moments, it is no surprise that in every piece the

number of moment combinations which appear only once is the highest
(Table 9). As a result, the diversity is much larger than the “recognisability”
of combinations. At least one third of all moments are found only once in
each piece. In four pieces the result of unique combinations is higher than
40% and in three pieces even higher than 50%.
Unique Ch Ch Ch Ch Bild Ch Ch Ch Ch
appearance I II III IV V VI VII VIII
Number 13 12 12 11 13 13 8 12 9
% 41 32 44 44 42 57 67 33 82
Total number 32 38 27 25 31 23 12 36 11
of moments
Table 9. Chiffre cycle. Moment analysis. Unique moments or unique category

combinations in absolute number and percentage. The total number of
moments per piece is noted in the bottom line.
The result of greatest variety is confirmed by the total numbers of moment

appearances in the whole Chiffre cycle (Table 10). Over the nine
compositions the maximum number of appearances of one combination is
fourteen or 6% (of 235 moments in the whole cycle): the combination of
melodic elements containing repetition and sustained tones (PRS). For
only three moments is the result between 5 and 6%: melo-rhythmic
elements with repetition (DPR), repetition combined with sustained notes
and accentuation of dynamics (RSV) and melodic element with sustained
notes and attention for dynamics (PSV).
Number 14 13 12 11 10 9 8
PRS DPR PSV DRT HPS DHP HPR
RSV HSV DRV STV
Table 10. Chiffre cycle. Moment analysis. Most appearing combinations in absolute
numbers.
The application of the integrated analytical tool makes clear that the
diversity in moment-shaping is an important condition for the suppression
of any systemised composition method. The greater the diversity, the less
coherence.
9
Parameter Characteristics
Melody
I n the previous chapter Rihm’s composition technique of simultaneously

planning and realising a composition in all aspects – melody, harmony
rhythm, dynamics, timbre, texture, articulation – was described, urging the
analyst to take an integrated approach. The fact remains that each parameter
considered apart from the others, shows certain typical characteristics of its
own. Therefore and notwithstanding the necessity of an integrated
approach, it is still reasonable to isolate the parameters for specific research.
The next chapters give a summary of the main characteristics of each
parameter.
Melodic Compositions
The number of solo works and concertos Rihm composed in the 1980s
could be an indication of his interest in melody as such. For solo works, the
output is minimal: only one instrumental solo work, Kleine Echophantasie
for trumpet (1986) with a duration of barely forty seconds, and one duo for
violin and cello, Duomonolog (1986/89, 2 movements, 10’). For large
instrumental solos, there is no output until 1999, when Rihm started the
series Über die Linie that also contains numbers for a soloist and orchestra.
The title “concerto” is given to only one composition during the 1980s:
Bratschenkonzert, dated 1979-83, and described as fully melodic: “The
whole piece is one endless melo-strand” (unendlicher Melo-Strang), the
Melos is in the centre and even the orchestra is thought in a vocal way
(gesanglich).1 Avoiding the genre name “concerto”, Gebild is written for high
trumpet, percussion and strings, and the series Doppelgesang in turn
combines “singing” soloists with orchestra: violin and viola, soloists
“singing with a double mouth” in 1. Doppelgesang (1980);2 and clarinet and
157
violoncello in 2. Doppelgesang (1981-83), subtitled Canzona.3 This means

that with regard to intense melodic emphasis, it is not until the 1990s that
Rihm started writing relevant work: Gesungene Zeit (1991-92) the violin
concerto with again the word “sung” in the title, being the most impressive
example, is followed by Musik für Oboe und Orchester (1993-94/1995/2002).
Taking into account that Dritte Musik for violin and orchestra (1993) or
Styx und Lethe for violoncello and orchestra (1997-98) are definitely less
melodic, one should not conclude that Rihm’s music is on the whole
evolving towards a more melodic idiom. It is nothing more than a testimony
of the composer’s versatility, which shows that melodic moments in the
1980s may be fewer in number, but that they are therefore not less lyric or
overwhelming.
However, for the Chiffre cycle and the string quartets of the 1980s, the
situation is different: aspects other than melody will be even more focused
upon due to Rihm’s aiming at systemlessness. The Chiffre cycle is described
as “the search for sound objects, sound signs, a sound notation”, where
“sound” is not a synonym for “melody”.4 According to Rihm, a string
quartet is not a “genre” but a “setting”. Putting it that way, on the one hand
he avoids the compulsory dialogue with the past and the historical weight
of the genre and on the other hand he can concentrate on sound. He defines
the “polyphony” of the string quartet as present in the vertical chord and
not in the four voices or parts.5
Melodic Element
In defining the neutral term “melodic element”, the fragmentary character
must be underlined, together with the non-necessity of classical building
aspects, such as a beginning, a middle section and a concluding part. The
scarcity of melodic elements makes them stand out because of their
unpredictability, the way they are inserted in hectic environments and
certainly because many times the melodic element is produced by a solo
instrument or in unison. In many cases the shortness of these fragments
and/or the parameter shift to timbre or timbre-articulation combinations,
due to Rihm’s processing of the sound as a whole, reduces their melodious
ness or melodic power.
To give an example of minimal melodic presence: in Ohne Titel, String
Quartet no. 5, I discern only eighteen clear melodic elements covering only
9 – Parameter Characteristics 159
61 of the 585 bars. The first emphasised melodic element appears in bars
46-47: it is based on the chromatic aggregate g-c and it is not purely melodic,
but also “vertical” by the polyphony based on the same notes in both violins
(Ex. 38). The great leaps are hiding the chromatic character and emphasising
the descending melodic line.
° 4
n>œ >œ n>œ ™ b >œ 3
R nœ bœ
3
Vn1 &4 ≈ J œ
nœ œ œ
b >œ n>>œ œ
≈ #œ ™
v v v
4 n>œ >œ >
ffff sfffz sfffz
¢
Vn2 & 4
R
nœ nnœœ b>œ œ ^ ^ ^
ffffs sfffz sfffz nœ œ nœ œ œ
3
3
The first larger solo melodic element is a rhythmic dance-like repeated

moment in the first violin, after one third of the quartet (see Ex. 35, p. 118).6
The greatest melodic emphasis is found in the solo of the second violin,
exactly in the middle of the composition (bars 294-301, Ex. 39). This
melodic element is characterised by sustained notes and small intervals,
within a small range. Sustained notes over numerous beats diminish the
melodic fluidity.
œ n˙ ™ œ™ nœb ˙ œ n˙ nœ w œ
sul tasto, flautando
Vn2
4 nw
&4
w w J Œ Ó
ppp (non vibrato) pppp
In the same quartet, few unison moments and only two clear unison
melodic elements are found. In one of them (bars 494-497, Ex. 40), irregular
leaps in the first violin make the unisons of all instruments doubled
alternately in three and four octaves. The melodic element consists of
eleven different pitches: only pitch e is not found while pitches a, bb and b
appear twice.
nœ . n>œ. na-œtempo (q = 60) accelerando - - - - --- - - - - - - - -

accelerando - - - - - - - - - - -
j nœ n œ #œ #œ
&44 bœ J #œ J n-œ Œ bœ bœ œ nœ
3
œ ‰ Œ
Vn1
> 3 3 3 nœ J
sfz pp ff pp ff pp ppp ff
In contrast to the conciseness of melodic elements in general, some longer

melodic lines with specific characteristics are found in other compositions
of the 1980s. In Bild the trumpet solo over fifteen bars, continued with
accompaniment (bars 132-155, see Ex. 14, p. 84; Ex. 15, p. 85), combines
long sustained notes alternating with extremely short ones, and small
intervals such as seconds with intervals larger than an octave. The result is
a broken melody, by rhythm and by interval. How it alludes to Varèse was
explained in chapter 3, see p. 81).
The Eighth String Quartet pays special attention to the longer line: a
melodic element is introduced by the viola in bars 18-20 and developed in
the course of 34 bars, until bar 53. It is still definable as a fragmentary
element because of the lack of melodious continuity: compounded of three
segments, two pairs of notes and a single one, separated by rests, which
diminish its melodiousness (Ex. 41).
con sordino
œ
bœ ™
pizz
B 44 ‰ #œ ™ J nœ ‰ #œr ≈ Œ
sul tasto
Va ‰ Ó ‰ Ó
pppp ppp pp
Ex. 41. String Quartet no. 8, 18-20.

Harmony
In only two texts of ausgesprochen has Rihm given a harmonic example,
referring to his own music.7 In his comment on the early orchestral piece
Morphonie, Sektor IV (1972-73) – its premiere at the Donaueschinger
Festival 1974 was his artistic breakthrough – Rihm notes the dyad a(+6)eb,
defining it as a tritone (not as a diminished fifth), the central interval from
which the harmony is freely developed. He adds the all interval chord and
describes it as equally important.8 The second notated harmonic element is
a single chord found in Rihm’s article on the chamber opera Jakob Lenz:
b(+6)f(+1)gb. Again the tritone is the central interval, combined with a
minor second or a diminished sixth (not notated as perfect fifth b-f#). This
triad is omnipresent in the opera Jakob Lenz.9 Its importance will become
clear in the paragraph below, The Tritone-Triad. Both examples date from
the 1970s. In my opinion, they do not show any attraction to classical
tonality.
Metatonality
Some analysts, such as Wilhelm Killmayer and Edward Top, do not exclude
classical tonality from Rihm’s music.
In his in-depth analysis of Rihm’s Klavierstück Nr. 6, Bagatellen, Wilhelm
Killmayer stated that the piece is in D minor.10 On the one hand he uses
classical terminology such as dominant and dominant seventh chord,
“ground tone” (Grundton), also stressing the tonal stability (Tonart-
Stabilität) of a chorale-like fragment. On the other hand, Killmayer has to
moderate his judgement, confronted with “masked” chords, with disturbing
tones (Störton) and with the avoidance of normal chord sequences
(Fremdhalten gängiger Verbindungen).
“However, despite the atonal surface and the apparent formlessness,
after repeated listening, an overarching sense of tonal awareness seems to
make itself felt.”11 However tentative Edward Top may be in the opening of
his analysis of Rihm’s Third String Quartet, Im Innersten, he becomes more
direct in his conclusion, finding “a traditional treatment of dissonance in
the form of the appoggiatura” and tonality as “intentionally permitted as an
expressive means”:
When going to the heart of Im Innersten, the most important aspect of

the music cannot be found in the score. The expectation raised is
achieved through the conventional procedures of functional harmony,
of the appoggiatura, through the unfulfilled resolution of the major
seventh. What the composer does instead, thwarting the expectation,
that it is based on these conventional procedures (i.e., leaving major
sevenths unresolved, treating them as octaves in expressive melodic
lines, and placing them in a post-Darmstadtian stylistic context), is
what makes this work so engaging.12
The “tonal awareness” in the background with its “overarching” capacities

can be elements of the definition of “metatonality”. This is about a
reminiscence or “rest from the past”, more than allusion to or suggestion of
classical tonality without the confirmation of it.
The compositions in which the above examples are found date from the
1970s. From the same period, the harmony of the opening bars of
Klavierstück Nr. 5, Tombeau (1975) shows both a similar and a different
aspect of Rihm’s harmonic concept. The following concerns the description
of the chord series that is found three times in the piece: in bars 1-8 and
bars 43-52 in irregular rhythm, and in the final section Quasi corale (bars
86-99) in crotchet rhythm with a few different octave settings. The piano
starts this passage with the unison c and ends it with the single tone g; pitch
c1 is the common top note of 39 of the 40 chords in between and returns
three times as a unison. The only disturbance is due to the unison c# a few
beats before the final single tone g (Ex. 42).
- nn-œœ nnnœ-œœ bnnœ-œœ nnn-œœœ - n -œ # œ-. n -œ bn œ-œ -

? 44 #nœœ b œ #œ nœ 54 ##n#œœœœ nn#œœœ #œ #œ n bœœ 44 Œ #nnœœœ ˙
pp
? 44 nœ n nœœ 45 bbnœœœbn nœœœ #œ nbœœ #nœœ 44 Œ nnœœ Ó
nnnœœœ nbœœ b œ- bnbœœœ n œ- b -œ # -œ. n œ- n œ- nn œ-œ
b œ- - n œ- -
“‘
Ex. 42. Klavierstück Nr. 5, Quasi Corale, 94-97. Unison c# on the third beat of bar
96, g solo in the last bar.
Although the top note is common, all 40 chords are different, with the
exception of two chords appearing twice, albeit in another position: the
dyad c-c# and the chord c-c#-eb-g-b. I prefer considering c as the focal pitch
and analysing the chord series with common c from the viewpoint of an
increasing and decreasing tension caused by the degree of dissonance,
since the accent is more on the difference and dissonance than on the
metatonal c-g relation. Of course, one cannot deny that a pianissimo chorale
in equal quavers, as in Ex. 42, sounds more “tonal” than the staccato and
secco presentation in short notes, discontinuous by rests, even when the
dynamic is ppp in the middle section, which in turn is much more tonal
than the irregular rhythms and the hammered articulation in sfffz in the
first presentation. This shows how Rihm, even in his earliest period, was
calculating the effect of interaction between different parameters.
Just as was the case for the focal pitch that is “auto-installing itself ” (see
p. 40) Rihm argues about “centres which are not centres” in his typical self-
contradicting way: “By accidentally closer approach during the movements
of the tone constellations, centres are created which in fact are not centres.”13
A centre by accident means neither an intended tonal allusion by the
composer nor the idea of metatonality kept in his mind. Related to this
statement is his denial of the fact that an isolated perfect triad can be
analysed as “tonal”, while tonality needs a certain time lapse:
To shout ‘This is tonal!’ when the chord d-f-a sounds, is false, not only
because a single tonal element does in fact not exist, but above all
because this chord can be part of any kind of harmony. Only the
temporal environment makes experienceable whether it is a tonic or
for instance an exception, an alien element, a mistake or whatever.14
It is incorrect according to Rihm to try to analyse his compositions from

the restricted viewpoint of the detection of consonant chords, immediately
followed by their tonal identification and classification. However, the tonal
allusion cannot be denied, hence my coining of the term “metatonality”.
Recalling the emphasised repeated consonant chord eb-g-bb near the end of
Klavierstück Nr. 7 (see Ex. 1, p. 39): according to Rihm, as quoted just
above, there is no reason to define this isolated consonant chord as “tonal”,
as (tonic of) E-flat major. In one of the examples of chapter 8 (see p. 147),
I explained how Siegfried Mauser, Markus Bellheim and Alastair Williams

stressed the importance of this chord in the framework of classical tonality
– something I questioned in my comments because the consonant chord is
disturbed several times. In my opinion, looking for a harmonic analysis in
the context of classical tonality or rather metatonality, the appropriate key
should be G minor, with a broken cadence (dominant chord d-f#-a followed
by in eb-g-bb, sixth degree). The chord e-g-b is only disturbing the key to a
certain extent by chromatic shifting, while pitch e natural can also function
as a sharpened sixth degree. Moreover, looking for a Grundton in
Klavierstück Nr. 7, pitch g is the one most prominently present. This is
illustrated, for example, by the first longer polyphonic passage (bars 54-58),
contrasting with the almost ubiquitous unison (three octave playing) in
both hands. This passage consists of two sustained elements: a doubled
pitch g in the right hand and the trill d-eb in the left hand, resulting in the
consonant ambiguity of eb-g and d-g: in my opinion an even more appealing
“dissonant consonant” than the disturbed chord eb-g-bb.
A completely different example of how a chord loses its consonant
character is given by the presence of the dyad d(+29)g by cello and first
violin in the Seventh String Quartet, Veränderungen. The dyad is sustained
over 15 bars (bars 289-303), Moreover, the real starting ppp non vibrato,
clearly as a consonance, evolving in a crescendo paired with growing bow
pressure, ending ffff possibile, sul ponticello, with many bow changes and
extremely hard pressure. The “beautiful” consonant sound does not evolve
towards dissonant, but towards “ugly” noise-like timbre. This shows once
more the need for an integrated approach, already found in the title of the
piece: Veränderungen can be translated as “changes”, but also as
“modifications” or “transformations” by interacting parameters.
Micro-interval Dissonance
Another kind of transformation in Veränderungen is the unusual
combination of unison with dissonance. As an exceptional unison-
combination alternating in both violins, the double stop f#-gb returns in 74
bars of the passage between bars 163 and 289, containing a long solo in the
first violin (bars 244-267, with few intrusions of other pitches). Here timbre
and rhythm are permanently subject to modification. In my opinion, the
combination of a sharpened and a flattened note is not an easy solution to
notate a doubled unison: Rihm is not asking for a doubled unison, but for
the sharpest dissonance possible, the friction of the comma difference
between the two pitches. Clear micro-interval dissonance is found in the
Eighth String Quartet, where the unison pitch g#-ab in the four instruments
changes by quartertone glissandos into the minor seconds g-ab or g#-a, with
gradual changes in dynamics and timbre: non vibrato and molto vibrato, sul
ponticello and tremolo (bars 120-133).
The Tritone-Triad
In ausgesprochen, the second harmonic example given by Rihm, already
mentioned in the introduction to this chapter, is the triad combining the
tritone and the perfect fifth, as found in his opera Jakob Lenz (b-f-gb or
b-f-f#, Ex. 43). The omnipresence of this tritone-triad reaches far beyond
this opera; its importance cannot be stressed enough. Richard McGregor
gives it the exclusive name of Lenz-chord and attributes “unifying power” to
it.15 When the perfect fifth is replaced by the perfect fourth, a similar chord
can be put next to the original: c-f-f# next to b-f-f#. This is justified by the
diversity of appearances in Rihm’s scores. However, expanding the chord
makes the original combination of tritone and half tone indistinct and
diminishes its original identity. It is typical of Rihm that he can make the
chord identity disappear by adding one single note: the chord b-c-f-f# can
be viewed as a tritone-triad combination with added b, or as the combination
of two tritone-triads: b-f-f# and c-f-f#. The result is that this chord creates
the tritone-triad group, which contains no fewer than four tritone-triads:
b-f-f#, c-f-f#, f-b-c and f#-b-c, twice the original chord or the tritone
combined with the perfect fifth and twice the tritone combined with perfect
fourth (Ex. 43). As I prefer a more neutral terminology, the Lenz-chord
will be labelled as the “tritone-triad” in my analysis of the Chiffre cycle
(see p. 213).
& #nww n#ww

w n#ww n#ww n#ww nww #ww
w ww w w w w
Ex. 43. Original tritone-triad and tritone-triad group.
Chord Chain
Apart from Rihm’s mentioned harmonic examples notated in his texts and
apart from the two essays on neo-tonality,16 Rihm does not give any
indication as to harmonic concepts, except for the unavoidable and self-
installing focal pitch (see p. 40). Because the focal pitch is accentuated by its
presence in a passage, it must be defined as a crucial note of the polyphonic
and harmonic development in this passage, although not as a functional
element of the harmony. In many cases, this focal pitch will be the common
element in a “chord chain”. The typology of chord chains shows a
differentiated series of possibilities:
- C hord chain with common notes

One or more common notes form the nucleus of the chain. By
addition and subtraction of elements the density of the chord chain
enlarges and diminishes. To obtain a certain harmonic impact, a
chord chain must have a certain time span. In a longer chain the
presence of focal pitches can become more evident.
- Chord chain with shifting chords
The succeeding chords have one or a few notes in common, but there
are permanent shifts in the common notes. As a consequence,
resulting shifted chords can no longer have any note in common with
the original chord they are deduced from. The focal pitch is less in the
foreground.
- Chord chain with accentuated chord
The chain containing common notes expands by added elements
towards a climactic chord, for instance a cluster, and backwards to
simpler chords. Common notes can function as focal pitches.
- Chord chain with breaks
By two consecutive chords without common notes, the chain is
broken. The break can cause a chord “shock”. In the absence of
common elements, the next or new chord can only consist of
complementary pitches. In this particular case, the use of “chain”
supposes that the break is followed by the return of the previous main
pitches. In this case there will be a shift in focal pitches.
It is my conviction that chord chains belong to the most systemless concepts

of Rihm’s music. Without the presence of any rules, chord chains create
certain coherence by common notes, by the possibility of focal pitches, by
climactic growth or by pointing in a certain direction. The driving force
behind the chord chain is the increasing and decreasing tension caused by
the degree of dissonance. The setting of the chords (narrow or wide, thin or
dense) helps to differentiate its tension. Once more, I am alluding to the
integral analysis approach, adding that the timbre will also be an important
factor to define the chord tension. In Ex. 42 and Ex. 44, for instance, low
registers are explored: the lowest ranges are one of Rihm’s predilections.
A “textbook case” of the first type of chord chain brings us back to the
chorale of Klavierstück Nr. 5, where the c is constantly present and other
notes are common as well, with one exception: the break caused by the
unison c# on the third beat of the 5/4 bar (see Ex. 42, p. 162).
An example of a chord chain combining shifting chords with breaks
and accentuated chords is found in bars 103-120 of Bild (Ex. 44). Gradual
shifts cause completely different chords at short distance, for instance at the
beginning: after only three bars the chord in bar 106/3 has nothing in
common with the opening bar of this fragment. There is a first chord break
in bar 108/1-2, a second one in bars 112/4-113/1, where the unison c#
enters, the exceptional consonance in this passage. However, these chord
breaks do not have the strength of blurring or obscuring the overall
chromatic chordal development. They only mark short interruptions,
whereafter chromatic neighbouring pitches re-enter. Climactic chords can
be found near the end of the example. In bar 119 the most complex chords
are found: the chromatic clusters g-d and f-d. Even sudden harmonic
outbursts, as in bar 113/2 and 115/2, do not disturb the gradual chord
evolution.
In his sketches Rihm has notated not only short chord chains, but also
aggregates in scale form with common notes and chromatic and diatonic
shifts. He encircled some notes, put crosses and linked notes by brackets.
Apparently, the scales are meant to serve chord formations. In my opinion,
these sketches confirm the concept of chord series with common and
shifting elements (Ex. 45, Ex. 46 and Ex. 47: boxed notes are encircled in
the sketches).
#˙ #˙ ™
& ∑ Ó Œ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑
? ∑ œ b˙ ™ bw bw nw œ n˙ ™ #ww
? œ b˙ ™ bœ #˙˙ ™™ ˙˙ b˙˙˙˙
‹ ˙ww Œ
˙
™
wœ Œ Ó w ˙ ˙
110
n# œœœœ
& ∑ ∑ ∑ Œ ˙™ ∑
bb œœœ
#œœœ#˙ ™™ #œ #œœ ™™ #œœœ ™™™
J ˙
? #w œ ˙ #˙˙ b˙˙˙ #˙˙
nœ ™
ww n˙ #˙
nw
nbbœœœ b˙˙ ™™™ bœœ ™ b nœœ ™
#œ bœ˙œ ™™™™ b œ ™™
b˙˙ b˙˙ ˙
? nbbww ˙˙ ™
w
#˙˙
‹ ˙˙ ˙™
#˙
115 œ
& ∑ Œ bœ Ó ∑
nœ
? <#>œ ##œœœ œ #œœ
#nœœ #w
w ww
bœ Ó b#w
w
bw
‹ ˙˙ bœ
? #œŒ #œœ‰œ #œœ #nœœ
œ #œœ #w
w b œœœ w n˙˙
n ˙™
Ó
˙ #˙
™™ ™™
118
& ∑ ∑ Ó
œœ # œœ
? <#>œœœ #nnœœœ ™™ w#w ™™
œ b w nœ
 Óœ b #œœ #bœ˙˙˙ w n#˙˙˙˙ ˙
n #˙˙
# ˙ #˙ nœ #˙
? ˙˙ ™™ n˙ ™
™™ n˙˙˙ ™ ™™
b˙ œ #œœ b œœ nœ
‹ <#> ˙˙˙ #œœ
n˙ ˙ n˙˙ bn˙˙
œ
Ex. 44. Bild, 103-120. Reduced score.
? w bw w w bw #w w
? #w bw w #w bw bw bw
Ex. 45. W. Rihm, Skizzenbuch 1984-86, p. 32. Staff notation. Bottom staff: no clef.
& bw bw
w w w #w w
& b w w
w bw bw w w
Ex. 46. W. Rihm, Skizzenbuch 1986-1987, p. 24. Letter notation. Not all notes but
all positions are linked by brackets, some twice. Encircled are tritone notes.
Brackets indicate several intervals, mostly also tritones.
X
& b bw bw
w bw w w w
& w w w
w bw bw #w
Ex. 47. W. Rihm, Skizzenbuch 1986-1987, p. 55. Letter notation. The cross could
indicate the start of the chromatic shift, except for f# and gb, not on top of
each other.
Cluster
Unexpectedly, certainly in view of the audible result, Rihm is rather
economical in his use of large clusters. The average appearance of the
complete chromatic cluster is less than once per composition in the Chiffre
cycle. A typical cluster-like chord or quasi-cluster is the combination of two
small clusters with a larger interval in between, for instance cluster d#-f
combined with cluster g-c in Chiffre I (bar 108), or the combination of a
single tone with a cluster. To illustrate the sparing use of clusters, some
details of clusters in the Chiffre cycle are revealed here.
In Chiffre I, III, IV, VIII and Bild the complete cluster does not occur. In
Chiffre III and Bild the densest cluster contains ten notes; the number
decreases to eight notes in Chiffre I and only seven or a cluster covering a tri
tone in Chiffre IV, where a culminating combined cluster or quasi-cluster of
ten notes is heard once (bars 58-59: cluster c-eb combined with cluster f-bb).
Chiffre II, Silence to be Beaten opens with a short symmetrical chord
chain of five elements: a consonant dyad (c-f, 1st and 5th element), a six-
note cluster of two blocks with c and f in common (cluster f-g and cluster
b-c#, 2nd and 4th element), and an eleven-note cluster in the centre
(missing note: g#). The same eleven-note cluster returns once (bars 46-48)
and there is also one moment of complete cluster (bars 206/3-207/2), the
result of a short climactic chord chain starting one bar earlier and ending
in the next bar after the twelve-tone cluster.
This time, the exception is Chiffre V, where the complete cluster appears
seven times with a huge concentration near the end of the piece (bars 145-
158 of the 166 bars); the composition contains seventeen clusters of eleven
notes, mostly concentrated in bars 5-10 and 138-161, and ten of ten notes
concentrated at the beginning, before bar 54.
In Chiffre VI, the single complete cluster (bar 67) is attacked after a
short unison (pitch e) and followed by a short consonant dyad e-a, as such
the cluster is not part of a chord chain. It rather reminds one of an emotional
outburst: the unison and consonance are part of it by contrast, the cluster is
articulated tremolo and Flatterzunge and is followed by the “slow painful
glissando” in the clarinet towards its “highest and ugliest sounds”. This place
is surrounded by a cluster concentration, by an eleven-note cluster and by
smaller clusters and quasi-clusters.
The total cluster functions as a structural element in Chiffre VII: it is
achieved in the middle of the piece (bar 99 of 198 bars) as climactic chord
in a mostly chromatically expanding chord series, starting from the
consonant fifth eb-bb.
Apparently, white or diatonic clusters are not part of Rihm’s current
vocabulary, but in Chiffre VII the exception occurs: between the opening
bars and the flute quotation (with generative pole in Chiffre II in bar 10),
white clusters appear: c-g and d-g (bars 6-7). In the last section of Chiffre
VII (section D, bars 134-182), there is a great concentration of smaller and
larger clusters, up to ten and eleven notes. Near the end of this passage, the
white cluster of the beginning returns, transposed to c-f and b-e (bars 167-
168 and 180-182).
Five bars before the end of the short Chiffre VIII, an eleven-note cluster
is played in a particular way by the piano: white keys in the right hand and
black in the left, all within the same octave db1-c2 (bar 36), the smallest
setting possible. As was the case in Chiffre VII, some places are reserved for
white chords, combining white clusters (c-d-f-g-a for instance) or a single
tone with a white cluster (c-e-f-g for instance, bars 10-12).
Informal Harmony and Texture

Drawing a conclusion from this multitude of harmonic approaches is not
easy, especially since, as I remarked earlier, harmony seems to belong to the
most systemless of Rihm’s music. Hence, “vers une harmonie informelle”,
alluding to Adorno, “towards an informal harmony” could be the
conclusion. Harmony is formed at the processed moment, as part of the
artwork emerging out of the generating process. Harmony is generated, not
governed by rules, and therefore “informal”. Rihm’s harmonic concept
breaks the boundaries of a classical melody-harmony-tonality “liaison” to
become part of the “texture” of the composition, which makes it a
fundamental element. And “texture” is understood as the result of all
characteristics, as the quality created by the combination of different
elements or parameters. A specific textural sound is a complex sound
formation, where all active parameters are involved, balanced in different
ways, moving from background to foreground and vice versa. Because
Rihm’s harmony no longer consists of single elements in a functional
coherence, “structural sound” must be replaced by “textural sound”. A
certain analogy with Helmut Lachenmann can be presumed. However, I do
not think that it is possible for Rihm’s music to go as far as Gianmario Borio
does, relating Lachenmann and also György Ligeti to Informal Art, finding
in music and in fine arts “the replacement of structure by texture”, because
of the simple reason that Rihm admits that he is not able to relinquish
coherence – in particular structural elements – and that therefore it is not
his aim to do so.17
Tempo – Metre – Rhythm

As regards the analysed music of the 1980s, several times Rihm composes
straight in 4/4 and in a strict tempo, without or with minimal changes.
Chiffre VII and String Quartet no. 7 are permanently in 4/4. Chiffre VI is
constantly q = 60 and 4/4, except for one bar ritenuto (bar 61) followed by a
tempo, and twice one 5/8 bar (bars 68, 70). Bild starts q = 80, with only one
tempo correction: più mosso (bar 102); the time signature is 4/4 interrupted
once for two 3/4 bars (bars 74-75). Chiffre VIII is in one and the same
tempo, q = 40 except for one bar q = 60 (bar 35). The most convincing
example is String Quartet no. 6, amounting to 854 [848] bars, all 4/4 except
for one time signature change to 5/4 for no more than eleven bars (bars
430-440 [428-438])18.
Other compositions are clearly divided into two parts: constant
characteristics of metre and/or tempo versus instability. This is the case in
Chiffre VII, where tempo changes are concentrated in the first half of the
piece. An unstable beginning is found in String Quartet no. 7 with nine
tempo changes in the opening bars (bars 1-21 of 462 [463] bars) and only
three times a slight change followed by a tempo afterwards (bars 54-55:
accelerando; bars 159-160: fermata; bars 393-396: etwas zögern, wieder
schnell). Chiffre II starts in 4/4 with extreme tempi over sixteen bars: q = 120
(bars 1-2/2), decelerating over three bars to q = 40 (bar 5), abrupt change to
q = 100 (bar 9), ritenuto over one bar to q = 40 (bar 13), accelerando molto
over one bar to q = 80 (bar 16). From then on, the piece continues in a stable
tempo, with one nuance più mosso (bar 45), until halfway, while in the
second half few tempo and time signature changes occur.
There are some unusual cases of tempo and metre change, a combination
of experiment and “frustration”. String Quartet no. 8 has an accelerando in
its final bar. The same goes for String Quartet no. 5: it hurries to the end in
the alternating unison of the last three bars, accelerando molto. In Chiffre III
an acceleration is blocked by a fermata (bar 95), another one by the double
bar line at the end of the piece, a kind of dead end. Another frustration
occurs in Chiffre IV where accelerations are leading nowhere, i.e. to silence
(bars 61-68). The piano solo in Chiffre V (bars 93-118) consists of an
uninterrupted series of semiquavers with gradual and sudden tempo
changes, also notated by changes of time unit, from crotchet to quaver for
instance, whether or not combined with a change of metronome number
(bars 101-108), such as q = 92, subito e = 92, ritenuto, x = 60, accelerando,
subito a tempo x = 60, accelerando q = 100, with more than once a tempo
change every beat or two beats (see Ex. 34, p. 118).
Nevertheless, even if tempo and time signature may seem fairly stable,
the truth lies in the concentration on the rhythm, which treatment is
independent of the time signature, independent of the traditional returning
regular order of stronger and weaker beats. The result is a Debussyan
rhythm, to name it after one of Rihm’s influential composers. Endless
possibilities of free rhythm are exploited with the greatest imagination.
Instead of metre and tempo variations, accelerations and decelerations are
caused by rhythmic changes: from quavers to triplets to quintuplets and

vice versa, for instance. Tied notes (very effective over the bar line) postpone
the change of pitch or chord, in order not to be synchronised with the
(strong) beat. Sometimes the rhythm seems “constructed” as irregularly as
possible, as in Bild (see Ex. 9, p. 83; Ex. 14, p. 84) or String Quartet no. 6 (see
Ex. 30, p. 103).
A last example introduces another consequence, albeit of a completely
different order: in String Quartet no. 5, both the long series of hammering,
percussive, regular fast (demi)semiquavers and sustained notes over several
bars (see Ex. 39, p. 159) result in a diminished metrical awareness, in the
loss of beat and time course awareness. Commenting on Klangbeschreibung
III (1984/87, for orchestra), Rihm gives the example of an “endless” series
of semiquavers by percussion tutti: “I interpret this as a point zero, where
time, in its musical development capacity, is very brutally inhibited.” In
Klangbeschreibung I (1982/87, for 3 orchestral groups) the continuous pitch
f is of the same order: “a flowing point zero”.19 This is similar to Ex. 30 where
the floating first violin line in sustained notes is combined with an irregular
timbral shifting unison a, hocket in octaves, soon replaced by other hocket
elements.
Certainly, rhythm is a predominant element in Rihm’s music. He is able
to abolish musical time to a certain extent. Escaping regular metre and
setting rhythm free could be enough proof of the highest accessible degree
of rhythmic systemlessness, as in the title of Rihm’s essay quoted above:
Improvisation on the Fixation of Freedom.
Dynamics – Articulation – Timbre

Dynamics are more inclined to the extremes than fitting the normal
prescriptions: double and triple forte are more likely than a simple forte;
double and triple piano in preference to piano. Diminuendos, noted as
sforzando – decrescendo – piano over short durations are normal, the same
goes for fast crescendos from pianissimo to foritissimo. The hairpin, a
repeated note with repeated crescendo is almost a signature, very typical of
Rihm’s early scores, for instance in Nature Morte – Still Alive for strings.
Dynamics are intense, but never “formalised” by extreme artificial contrasts
or a note by note differentiation.
The same goes for timbre and expression: Rihm asks for precise and
differentiated timbres by articulation prescriptions. For the string
instruments for instance, some extremes of the wide range are dolce and
feroce, zart and zäh (tenacious), flautando sul tasto con sordino and sehr
geräuschhaft stärkstem Bogendruck.
Youth Experience
A score by Wolfgang Rihm is immediately distinguishable by the huge
number of articulations on every note. Individual notes are very often
accentuated in more than one way: by the dynamic indication of sforzando,
sforzandissimo or sforzandississimo combined with a normal accent, a
marcato accent or a staccato accent. Rihm explains this hypersensitivity for
articulation indications as a youth experience: listening to orchestras as a
youngster, many times he found out that they performed without
commitment. Therefore, he added articulations in his earliest scores, as a
psychological tool to keep his performers concentrated, awake and alert all
the time, and never ceased doing so.20
Articulation obtains a timbral dimension by added techniques, such as
tremolo, Flatterzunge, trills, trills combined with tremolo, which increase
the expressivity. Articulation and performance techniques can also be
applied as an experiment, comparable to the use of resonance in Chiffre IV.
String Quartet no. 8 can be described as a study of ricochet and ricochet col
legno possibilities.
When Rihm prescribes a certain expression by verbal indications, a
double meaning is not exceptional. On the one hand an interpretation is
asked for, on the other hand it can be a reference to another composer or an
extra-musical field. In the Seventh String Quartet prescriptions such as roh!
and rauh! (“raw” and “rough”) refer to the world of Antonin Artaud; Wie
ein Hauch makes one think immediately of the music of Gustav Mahler (as
explained on p. 69ff. and 75ff.).
The feroce repeated rhythmic melodic element d(-7)g(0)g(+5)c(-7)f(0)f
in the violoncello solo at the end of the Seventh String Quartet is a good
example of the “fading” of melodic strength, taken over by the timbre, due
to changes in the articulation. The solo lasts for 37 bars and the character
shifts from feroce, non leggiero (bar 436), by sul ponticello am Frosch (bar
455), ending with sehr starker Druck (bar 459), where the pitch component
is almost lost. This is comparable with the analysis I elaborated in chapter 8

(see p. 147).
Of course, melodic elements can also be perceived as expressive by the
analyst without any indication by the composer. In my opinion, this can be
found in the “parody” in Ohne Titel (Ex. 48): first there is the jumping
melodic element in the second violin accompanied by a descending
chromatic scale in parallel seconds in the first violin and the cello, all
pizzicato, then the second violin is imitated by the viola solo, arco.
nœ
° 4 pizz.
3
arco sul p.
& 4 nœ. nœ bœ nœ # œ n œ ≈ ‰ Œ
. . . . . n œ. b œ. n œ b œ.
Vn1
pp . v ppp
sffz
sffz
4
pizz. 3
arco sul p. nœ
& 4 #œ. bœ. nœ. nœ. nœ. bœ bœ. #œ #œ ≈ ‰
. v.
Œ
.
Vn2
n œ.
# œ. nœ n œ. n œ. bœ b œ. #-œ
™
mp ppp
4 #œ
Va &4 Ó nœ
arco ord. sul p. pp 3
pizz. arco sul p.

4
¢& 4 nœ. bœ. nœ. bœ. n œ n œ b œ n œ b œ
3
Vc ≈ ‰ Œ nbœO
. . . . . n œ.
v
pp ppp
sffz
Ex. 48. Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5, 360.
The Fifth String Quartet is Schnell, rastlos, with only once subito calmo; the
Sixth starts Schnell und frei; the Seventh Nicht langsam, flüssig!, with feroce
at the end and even with a prohibition in capitals: NON DOLCE! (bar 21).
Chiffre III bears an indication for expression in the opening bar: Crudo. In
Chiffre I (bar 80), the sound of the consonant dyad bb-eb, harmonics on the
cellos, must be “cold” (kalt). In Chiffre VI (bars 68, 70, 78) a melodic element
turns into timbre with emphasised expression when the clarinet is asked to
play notes “as high as possible”, notated as different pitches and at the same
time “as ugly as possible” (nur höchste und häßlichste Töne). This is preceded
and followed by a “painful” glissando (bars 67, 82).
Timbre and Resonance

Resonance deals with different parameters: sympathetic sounding
harmonics or muted keys cause specific timbres. On the piano, resonance
also deals with decaying, fading out and soft dynamics and, as a consequence,
with sound space and silence. A certain duration is a necessary condition
to make resonance perceptible: fermata, sustained sounds or a slow rhythm.
Because of the mixture of different parameters, resonance is regarded as a
specific category in my integrated approach, in my tool for the “moment”
analysis, together with sound spaces and sustained sounds (see p. 148).
Chiffre IV can be considered as a study of resonance, not only on the
piano, but also in combination with both the other instruments, bass
clarinet and violoncello. The search for resonance possibilities is certainly
also one of the reasons for the choice of the smallest ensemble of the whole
Chiffre cycle. However, the application of resonance is not restricted to only
this composition: in other pieces of the Chiffre cycle as well similar moments
of resonance can be encountered (see p. 227, 231).
Rihm’s research on piano resonance results in the following typology:
- Normal resonance
The normal decay by keeping keys pressed.
- P edal resonance
Use of the sustain pedal for a louder and total resonance.
- R esidue resonance
Resonance by different sound lengths: when a sound or chord consists
of different rhythmic values, the longer ones can be viewed as
resonating after the shorter ones have become silent, as a “rest” or
“residue” of the original.
- Resonance by muted keys (stummer Anschlag)
Resonance by muted pressed keys: the strings of muted pressed keys
start thrilling by sounding sympathetic pitches.
- Reinforced resonance
During its decay, the resonating sound can be reinforced by the
impulse of a real or normally played sympathetic pitch, which
supposes a loud(er) dynamic and a short(er) duration of both the
original and the reinforcing sounds.
- Performed fading resonance

The resonance fading decay is played or performed, for instance as a
repeated note in diminuendo al niente.
Rihm also explores resonance possibilities on other instruments, mostly by

imitating, if possible, the piano types listed above. To this category of
“imitation resonance” belong the residue resonance, reinforcement of
resonance and performed fading resonances.
The related concept of “resonance space” (Resonanzraum) is defined by
Rihm in the context of Chiffre I, where the piano functions as soloist and
the other instruments build a resonance space around the soloist. The
image of the resonance space outside the piano is mirrored in Chiffre IV,
where the resonance is “inside” the piano.
In my description of the integral approach required by Rihm’s music, I
quoted the essay Spur, Faden. Zur Theorie des musikalischen Handwerks,
where harmony is described as “sound inside colour, the colouring of its
inner space”. Harmony, timbre or colour, space and resonance become the
main parts of the same sound design (see p. 145).
Resonance and Fine Arts

Residue resonance can also be described as the result of sound layers, where
the louder ones cover the softer. Recalling Rihm’s interest in fine arts and
Übermalung, this is a clear musical application of a louder layer making a
softer one hardly audible or even inaudible. Resonance refines the musical
overpainting also by the category of reinforced resonance. Muted keys that
become audible by sympathetic pitches can now even be explained as an
inaudible level brought over the edge of audibility by normal sounds.
Instead of “overwriting” as the musical analogy of Übermalung or
“overpainting”, the term “oversounding” is certainly suitable in the case of
resonance.
Silence
Different functions are assigned to silence. The most conventional is of
course the silence defining the end of a phrase or a section: silence as
demarcation, as a structural element. A series of other more original
applications can be added.
Following Rihm, Chiffre IV is the “most silent” piece of the cycle.21

“Silent” here means of course soft dynamics in the first place, but also that
resonance is embedded in silence, that silence makes the resonance audible
(see p. 227ff.). Silence as “frustration” was already mentioned: the climax
expectations of a series of chromatically ascending chords in acceleration
are not fulfilled: leading nowhere, blocked by silence (bars 61-68, see
p. 172).
In a completely different way, the subtitle of Chiffre II refers to silence:
“Silence to be Beaten”, the Varèse quotation, asks the conductor to go on
and to conduct the silence notated in rests. Rihm also interprets the subtitle
in a metaphoric way: beaten or “hit” silence means painful silence, makes
silence become “cry” and eventually cry being the music. As a consequence,
silence has to be defeated, because silence wants to destroy the music in an
existential way. Rihm hopes that this poetic explanation stimulates the
fantasy of the listener. Hence, he can define sound and silence as “form”
and “negative form”.22
Opening a piece with a full bar of rest is another remarkable use of
silence. It happens in Klavierstück Nr. 6, Bagatellen and in Bild, the latter
with fermata. The first sound after the rest in Bagatellen is a sustained single
tone in ppp, which lets one suppose that the sound has to emerge from the
silence, an almost impossible task for a pianist. In Bild however, the function
of the opening rest and other silences is completely different. Bild may be
played in a normal concert situation or before or after the presentation of
the film Un chien andalou by Luis Buñuel. In these conventional cases the
music starts with a long silence. The situation is completely different when
the music of Bild is played during the film, what Rihm suggests as live
music, “overpainting” the film, certainly not “underpainting” (jedenfalls
nicht ‘untermalen’). In this case, Rihm forbids music during the opening
scene and the opening silence fermata lasts for almost one minute, the
duration of the first film scene. Since the synchronisation of music and film
is not his aim, Rihm suggests that the music (the score takes eight minutes)
can start at any moment during the film, lasting twice as long or sixteen
minutes. He even suggests cutting the score into different pieces, spread
over the film. According to Rihm, this is possible because both score and
film are marked by a certain “awareness of cutting” (Geschnittenheit). Bild
in fragments causes shorter or longer silences in between: a completely new
function is given to silence. In this case, the opening silence fermata can
last much longer than one minute. General pauses and fermatas spread
over the score can mark the fragmentation of the score and serve as inserted
silences of different duration. This is the only occasion in the Chiffre cycle
where a score is on the one hand completely defined by the composer, but
on the other hand left free for fragmentation by the musicians. Adding
“etcetera” to the performance possibilities, Rihm suggests an even greater
freedom in “cutting” the music, in defining the “montage” where the
original sequence of the score must not be respected.23
In other compositions, long silences are a main characteristic: in String
Quartet no. 7, a four-bar rest with fermata right after the beginning (bars
7-11, fermata in bar 10) does not separate the introduction from the piece
itself, but presents silence in the introduction as one of the important topics
to be elaborated throughout the piece. Silences, lasting from one beat to
several bars, frequently return and are very concentrated in specific passages.
Apart from this search to give special weight and significance to silences,
rests also appear with a conventional structural function, designing a
melodic element, for instance. Silences with different lengths separate the
three segments of the dominant melodic element in the viola in the Eighth
String Quartet (see Ex. 41, p. 160). An even more striking example is the
presentation of the unison motif at the beginning of String Quartet no. 4:
the successive extended variations of the motif are separated by rests of
different duration: 4, 2, 21/3, 11/2, 2, 31/2, 1, 1/3, 71/2, 1, 1, 4 beats,
respectively in bars 1-15.
Referring to Stockhausen, Ivanka Stoianova asserts that in the Fifth
String Quartet, tremolos and harmonics in the highest register become
“coloured silences”. Rihm however, gives Stockhausen’s “coloured silences”
another meaning: these are absolute silences, characterised or defined by
the previous and the following events and hence full of meaning.24
As is the case for other parameters, silence is not applied in a systematic
way. To give an example: in Chiffre I, there is only one full bar of silence (bar
108), although not without importance. Here, in my opinion, a “symbolic”
and a structural function are combined: the silence is exactly at the golden
section’s location.
Texture
Texture is at the same time as predominant in its traditional role and
definition as in its more contemporary function of total sound creation, as
defined above (see p. 171).
In Rihm’s music of the 1980s, changes in texture are mostly fast, because
the texture is not directed by the phrase building, but has an added
fragmenting function. To give an example: the alternation of texture in the
opening bars of the Fifth String Quartet: unison sustained sound (v1-va) in
bar 1; solo sustained sound (va) in bar 2; homorhythm (all) in bar 3;
polyphony (va-vc) with homorhythm (v1-v2) followed by homorhythm
(v1-v2-va) in bars 4-5; polyphony nearing homorhythm (v1-v2) with
homorhythm (va-vc) in bars 6-7; almost homorhythm (v1-va-vc) in bar 8;
polyphony with different homorhythmic beats in changing instrument
pairs in bar 9; homorhythm in pairs (v1-v2 and va-vc) in bar 10; etc.
Looking at this example, the texture could also be described as the falling
together of instruments for a short moment, leaving immediately after.
The conventional categories of texture are enriched with specific
connotations. Melody-dominated homophony was already linked with the
floating of one instrument above the texture created by the others (see Ex.
30, p. 103). Homorhythm is a moment of “order” in the hectic and multiple
changes of texture as described in the example above. Homorhythm seems
to be searched for sometimes, when one by one the instruments find each
other, to continue synchronised in the same rhythm for a short moment.
Again, an example is found in the Fifth Quartet: the repeated semiquaver
triplet bb(-1)a(-1)g# by the cello is part of the polyphony of bar 34, joined
by the second violin in bar 35/3 resulting in a pair by pair homorhythmic
moment; all instruments double the cello figure, although in chords by the
first violin and the viola from bar 36/4 to bar 38/4. The next bar continues
the semiquaver triplets homorhythmic in an overall descending line,
coming to an end in bar 40, continuing in a polyphonic way, whereafter the
instruments find each other back in homorhythmic semiquaver repeated
triplets and sextuplets seven bars later (bars 47/4-48).
Counterpoint appears in different ways: total independence and
difference being one of the extreme possibilities, when all voices are
evolving independently, having nothing in common. However, in the
1980s, the other extreme cannot be described as literal imitation or fugato,
techniques returning afterwards in the 1990s. When instruments imitate

each other, only the idea or the contour is imitated without copying the
same figures. To fill in the example given above: the contrapuntal moment
(bars 40-47) of the Fifth String Quartet is dominated by a variety of
ascending melodic harmonic elements in all instruments. When a fragment
of an ascending movement is repeated, it is expanded, prolonged or
changed in another way.
The example of the Fifth Quartet gives proof not only of the versatility
in texture, but also of the lack of hierarchy: all instruments have a part in
the texture development, with the same presence and importance. Texture
is treated in a different way in the Chiffre cycle, with a certain hierarchy. In
Chiffre I Rihm defines the piano as a soloist opposed to the other
instruments. For Chiffre II, III and Nach-Schrift, the piano solo is confirmed
in the setting on the score and in Rihm’s comments: “The piano is treated
as a solo instrument” or solistisch is added to the piano in the setting on the
score.25 Generally speaking and apart from the solo piano, texture in the
Chiffre cycle is more conceived in groups of instruments: the group of
string instruments for instance is set in the same way, at odds with the
group of wind instruments. This is already clear in the setting of Chiffre VI:
wind quartet opposed to string quartet.
For the sake of completeness, I should add that Rihm also “plays games”
with texture, when for instance he composes a simple imitation with
syncopated triplets in String Quartet no. 5 (bars 217-220) or when he inserts
hockets in the Sixth String Quartet (see Ex. 30, p. 103) in bars 44-51, 265-
266, 301-302, 726-731 [720-725], 806 [800] and in different Chiffre pieces.
A hocket also appears in the Seventh String Quartet (bars 238-240, 244,
275-277, combined with the micro-interval dissonance), in Chiffre I (bars
23-25) and Chiffre IV (bars 15-16).
10
String Quartet in the 1980s:
String Quartets nos. 5-8
F rom his early youth Rihm was interested in the string quartet: the very
first work on his official Chronological Work List is a string quartet; his
interest never waned (Table 11). For Martin Wilkening the string quartet is
the only genre with which Rihm has dealt or coped continuously: it is the
mirror of his total oeuvre, the most convincing proof of his craftsmanship,
the medium in which the artist demonstrates to what extent he is able to
formulate his wishes of personal expression within the laws of the art form.1
Year Composition
1966 String Quartet in G minor
1968 String Quartet
1970 String Quartet no. 1
1971 Tristesse d’une étoile
1976 String Quartet no. 3, Im Innersten
1980-81 String Quartet no. 4
1981-83 Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5
1983-84 Zwischenblick: “Selbsthenker!”
1984 String Quartet no. 6, Blaubuch
1985 String Quartet no. 7, Veränderungen
1991 Zwischen den Zeilen
1992-93 String Quartet no. 9, Quartettsatz
1993/97 String Quartet no. 10
1998/2010 String Quartet no. 11
1999-2004 Fetzen (nos. 1-2)
2003-04 Quartettstudie
2005 Grave
2015 Geste zu Vedova
Table 11. String quartets overview.
183
In recent compositions Rihm opts for the combination of the string quartet
with other instruments. In his early years, this was only once the case:
Morphonie, Sektor IV was originally conceived as a movement of a larger
composition, which was not worked out hitherto (Table 12).
Year Title Setting

1972 Morphonie orchestra with solo string quartet
1999-2004 Fetzen accordion and string quartet (nos. 3, 5-8)
2000 “CONCERTO” string quartet and orchestra
2000/02 Interscriptum string quartet and piano
2002 Vier Studien clarinet and string quartet
2004/05 En plein air flute, clarinet, harp and string quartet
2006 Akt soprano and string quartet
2006 Akt und Tag soprano and string quartet
2009 ET LUX vocal quartet and string quartet
Table 12. Compositions for string quartet and other instruments.
Aesthetic viewpoints
As pointed out by Ulrich Mosch, with the Fifth Quartet Rihm starts a series
of string quartets which deal less with the music of the past than the earlier
ones. It is also Mosch’s opinion that the string quartets are at the same time
the mirror of and the motor for Rihm’s compositional development.2 This
is inspired by Rihm’s statement that the process of composition of the Sixth
Quartet (just like many other works) was in fact the search for the string
quartet itself, the search for the quartet sound and process. It must be said
that Wolfgang Rihm has a clear and precise opinion of the string quartet
genre.
A second statement concerns the “magic” of the genre, because in
Rihm’s opinion the whole secret nature of art resonates in it, which makes
the string quartet a “container” not only for all music, but also for all
artworks.3
A third statement: Rihm considers the string quartet as a “setting”
(Setzung), not a “genre” (Gattung), which sets him free from historical
connotations, characteristic of the genre (see p. 157) also for the fourth
statement). This confirms Mosch’s statement, quoted above: the string
quartets of the 1980s are not indebted to great examples or to geniuses from
the past.
10 – String Quartet in the 1980s 185
A fourth statement: the string quartet is seen as only “one instrument”

with an enormous range and huge timbral possibilities. It is “one
instrument”, which contains a diversity of dialogue possibilities in itself.
It is even “polyphonic” in the vertical chord, because of the different
players who build the chord together: one instrument à quatre étages (see
p. 146).4
These statements mark the difference with Rihm’s earlier concept of the
string quartet as evidenced by his comment on his Third Quartet, Im
Innersten. In the middle of the 1970s he was directed to the past of the genre
with Beethoven and Janáček as leading examples. In that time, he defined
the four players not as one instrument, but as a unit of four players “tuning”
as if they were one “body” not being polyphonic.5 I understand this as
follows: a dissonant chord, for example, played by the four members of the
quartet is different when each of them plays one note, a consonant or a
dissonant double stop. Another example: how consonant or dissonant are
the unisons f#-gb and g#-ab in String Quartet nos. 7 and 8, respectively? This
was already discussed in the paragraph on Micro-interval Dissonance
(see p. 164).
Martin Wilkening summarises the different viewpoints as follows: on
the one hand music in search for its articulation as a string quartet, on the
other hand, a string quartet in search of being music; string quartet
generated from the sound instead of “genre tradition”.6
The String Quartets nos. 5-8, the quartets of the 1980s, seem to reveal
some autobiographical aspects as if the genre was more personal, more
confessional of the maker’s own feelings and private life than other
compositions. Of course, titles are gratefully received food for interpretation:
Veränderungen for no. 7 cannot be passed without an interpretative
explanation, certainly by lack of clarity by the composer. What is the
meaning of the words con amore near the end of the Eighth Quartet (bar
273), written with the tip of the bow on the score? Neither does one know
what influence Rihm’s hospitalisation for pneumonia had on nineteen
pages or circa 170 bars, the first fifth of the Sixth Quartet, composed in
hospital during his recovery. The same goes for the inherent characteristic
of the so-called “Notebook Quartets”: while Rihm was permanently
keeping the notebooks for the Fifth and Sixth Quartet in his pocket during
the compositional process, some comments look for a certain autobio
graphical impact as a kind of diary or even a novel.7 In my opinion this

impact is no different from that of other works, from “non-notebook”
compositions, because Rihm never prepares a composition by comprehens
ive sketches. What he thinks or prepares in his mind or maybe puts on
paper as a fast sketch in order not to forget is as “autobiographical” as a
notebook in his pocket.
However, it is thinkable that the composition of the Sixth Quartet
served as a kind of self-assertion (Selbstbehauptung), but very soon
afterwards the compositional process became detached from it.8 It is not
too far-fetched to presume that the four basic figures witness this self-
assertion (see Ex. 26, p. 100; Ex. 27, p. 101; Ex. 28, p. 101; Ex. 29, p. 102).
Material in clearly defined figures can serve as a support, something that
can be grasped or easily remembered. This could reflect Rihm’s earlier
“style”, because a similar clearly defined figure, c(+2)d(+1)eb(+1)e(+2)f#, is
the basis of the quasi-logical development in the first movement of String
Quartet no. 4, where it was also presented clearly in the foreground in the
opening bar. Moreover, the first and fourth figures of Blaubuch and the
opening motif of the Fourth Quartet are restricted to the same intervals:
major and minor second. Both the fourth figure of no. 6 and the opening
motif of no. 4, are ascending lines; the former bridges a diminished fourth
in three steps, the latter bridges a tritone or augmented fourth in four steps.
Germ development returns also later in Rihm’s music, as quoted in
connection with Über die Linie for example, in the introduction to chapter
4, Fine Arts.
To continue my presumption: once recovered, Rihm felt more free, no
longer in need of the grasp of his material after ca. 170 bars. However, it is
only from bar 250 on that the figures are looser and fuzzier. The beginning
of a new section (bar 182) bears the indication Zögernd und stockend or
“Hesitating and staggering”. This indication seems more ill than healthy:
the recovery might continue until around bar 250.
The logical conclusion should be that the Sixth Quartet is more
retrospective than the Fifth, but this is contradicted by the composer. In an
interview dated 1985-87, discussing the Sixth String Quartet, Reinhold
Urmetzer opts for the term dauerndes Fortspinnung as non-teleological
ongoing composing, seemingly without any systematics. Urmetzer suggests
that Rihm has abandoned modernist principles, which is denied by the
composer: he still feels related to the alte Moderne, the “ancient modernists”.
His aim is to continue their trail, to progress from it, together with the trail
of the avant-garde, without belonging or being stuck to the latter.9
Group Formation versus Individual Quartets

In several comments on Rihm’s quartets, String Quartets nos. 5-7 are
described as a group, cycle or triad. In my opinion there is also enough
reason to consider String Quartets nos. 5-8 as individual compositions or to
divide them in pairs: nos. 5-6 and nos. 7-8, based on shared elements and
common characteristics.
Common First Note f#

Can the fact that f#1 is the first note of the Fifth, Sixth and Seventh String
Quartets suffice to group them as a triad? In each case the returning pitch
is treated in a completely different way: it is a different “sound”. In no. 5 the
pitch is ppp, sul tasto, non vibrato, unison over four beats and solo over five
and a half beats, in the normal register of violin and viola. In no. 6 the pitch
starts in the high register of the cello, non vibrato with an accent sfz p; from
the second beat accompanied by other materials. It is overtaken by the
second violin and presented for four and a half beats. In no. 7 the situation
is different again. The attack of the first beat is given by the woodblock fff
together with the sustained f#, ppp and flautando over four beats with
fermata and continued in the second bar, shared by three instruments.
Taking all these differences into account, it seems to me that timbre and
articulation are more important than the pitch as such.
Because of the common first note, in 1988 Wilkening defined the three
quartets as cyclic, referring to an utterance by Rihm: “basically one quartet”.
Kutschke thinks of a “triptych”; Brügge recalls the “triad” idea, following
Kutschke.10 As noted in chapter 6 (see p. 124), Dibelius is of a completely
different opinion: referring to the composer he underlines that f# is the
central tone, the middle of the whole ambitus of the string quartet and
therefore a suitable starting point or base.11
The Importance of Pitch f#

Next to the discussion on the consequences of the same opening pitch, all
scholars quoted have a proper opinion on the importance and function of
pitch f# in String Quartets nos. 5, 6 and 7. More precisely Wilkening stresses
the spatial aspects of it in no. 7.12 Kutschke argues about the subordinated
role of the pitch in no. 5: “only subliminally appearing in the midfield” or in
concurrence with pitch g. This is extended in no. 7 to a competition between
pitches e#, f# and g. According to her, the same pitch f# “fulfils basically no
significant role” in no. 6. She ends with the metaphor of pas de deux or pas
de trois, with f# as the “winner”.13
Brügge is of a different opinion. For him, the pitch f# certainly plays an
important role in the three string quartets: “[t]he central pitch f# emerges
more often in the formal course and signals (by building caesuras) in a
certain way the beginning of a new section or marks the climax of a
development.” Brügge concludes that pitch f# has a dual function: on the
one hand as opening pitch it functions as a symbol for the “primordial
state” (Urzustand) in the indifferent or not yet formed “image” (indifferentes
Satzbild); on the other hand, the pitch is used as a hinge to announce
changes in the formal course.14 This will be confirmed by my analysis in the
following paragraphs.
Yet another opinion, already noted in my introductory chapter: Dibelius
acknowledges the return of the pitch in question but refuses to ascribe to it
any structural function. For him, this pitch cannot function as a constructive
principle in the overload of intertwined events. In his opinion, this pitch is
even “ominous”: more than once he reflects on the “ominous f#”.15
In the next paragraphs I will analyse the importance of pitch f# and the
possible preferential treatment of other pitches, not only in the three string
quartets discussed above, but also in String Quartet no. 8. That pitch f# is
not the opening pitch in the last is not enough reason to exclude it from a
comparative analysis.
Transitions in String Quartet No. 5

The results of my analysis of String Quartet no. 5 in sections (Table 13) show
clearly that pitch f# appears in almost every transition to a subsequent
section. However, the function of the pitch, the emphasis given to it, the
presence or duration and the place in the transition are different every
time. The way Rihm brings up this specific pitch is completely different for
instance from the way Witold Lutosławski applies it to the Introduction or
first movement of his String Quartet (1964). The latter frames the different
episodes with groups of octaves on one and the same pitch, c. The question
whether Rihm’s use of f# functions as a constructive or structural principle
can be answered in a negative way when perceptibility is the key, but
answered in a positive way when the focus is on the score and the analysis
as such. Moreover, it is my conviction that musical events that are not easily
or clearly perceptible in the foreground can still have a function as ordering
principle, subconsciously or unconsciously perceived, as a background or
less audible, not to say inaudible phenomenon. Of course, “inaudible” can
never be the case, while the pitch f# is composed, is present and played.
In the Fifth String Quartet the more or less emphasised emergence of
pitch f# announces on almost every occasion a change in the score, a
transition to a new section. Time after time, the treatment of the pitch
undergoes a complete metamorphosis. In between the transitions, there are
long passages where pitch f# is completely absent. At a certain moment the
pitch is reintroduced to announce the impending transition. Therefore,
these “announcements” are also listed in the chart below (Table 13), not to
weaken the moment of transition as such, but to show how this central
pitch is treated in different ways. What is left out of consideration is the use
of the pitch as a passing note in fast gestures, as part of a cluster or complex
chord or as occasional not accentuated note.
Could it be that simple, that all transitions are based on one and the
same pitch? My analysis shows that f# is not the only transitional pitch.
Pitch c# also plays an important role, whether or not combined with f#
(Table 13). An “announcement” of the importance of the dyad of both
pitches is found at the beginning of the piece: bars 14/2-15/1, with c# solo
in between.
The score is divided into eleven sections (A-K). Transitions are on the
one hand concentrated on the specific bar where a new section starts; on
the other hand, longer transitional passages with a preparation and a
continuation last for several bars.
The transitions are mostly characterised by contrast, sometimes by the

continuation or intensification of certain elements. Beginnings and endings
are listed separately, which results in 22 instances. The combination of the
two pitches, f# and c#, figures in seven cases, while both are absent or not
emphasised (for instance as part of a chord or cluster) again in seven cases.
Pitch f# is found in six transitions; pitch c# only in two. However, looking at
the complete picture, at transitions as combined ending and beginning,
both pitches are found, in combination or separately in each transition:
combined from transition A-B until transition G-H; pitch f# alone in
transitions H-I and I-J; and c# alone in the last transition J-K. The dominance
of the combined pitches is apparent.
Bar Section Instru- Characteristic f# and c# Characteristic

ment transition
1-5 Ab vn1-va 1-3: f# unison, solo, unison
sustained, ppp,
sul tasto, non vibrato
4-5: f# continued in chords
57 Ae vc f# crotchet on contrast: subito calmo
unison harmonic eb pppp
and partly solo,
followed by c# partly solo
59 Ae vn2-va f# harmonics, pppp, end subito calmo
tritone with c§ in vc
59/3 Bb a tempo, register
contrast
61- Bb vn1 f# sustained top note
62
78- Be va repeated alternation f#-c§ announcing
79 tremolo harmonics
79/3 Cb start tremolo
harmonics
79- Cb vn1-2-va dyad f#-c# sustained
80 tremolo harmonics
va: accent f#
81 Cb vn2 c# tremolo (continued and
exchanged with vn1 until
bar 110)

ment transition
129- Ce va-vc varied melodic element,
133 consonant dyad c#-f#
(and c-g), c# tremolo
(continued with both
pitches in tremolo chords,
bars 133-135)
137- Ce vn1-2-va va: repeated alternation noted “slow” tremolo
140 f#-ab, vn1-2: c# and
f# tremolo harmonic
139- Ce vn1-2 f# exchanged tremolo tremolo
141
141/ Ce end tremolo
1
141 Db va-vc f# doubled repeated
144 Db vn2- va-vc f# on repeated c# in chord
145 Db vn2- va-vc f# unison (evolving to homophony: melodic
(quasi cluster, bars 145- element vn1
148)
177 De vn2- va-vc vn2-va: consonant fifth closing: perfect fifth,
f#- c# followed by vc: sustained notes
pizzicato accent c#
178/ Eb - no emphasis short rest
2
203 Ee vn1-va f# top note of chromatic end tremolo
bow, tremolo
204/ Fb vn1 solo with repeated c# dance-like rhythm
1
205- Fb all imitation and unison with dance-like rhythm
207 repeated c#
230 Fe - no emphasis slow down rhythm
231 Gb sustained consonant
dyads and unisons
232 Gb vn1 c#solo sustained
sfffz ffff
234- Gb vc-vn1 vc: f# pizzicato sfffz
235 continued by sustained c#
in vn1, sfffz ffff

ment transition
282- Ge all c#-f# sustained, returning the middle of the
292 dyad or part of larger chord score (bar 292) is
more important than
the transition G-H
302/ Hb - no emphasis polyphony
2
352 He - no emphasis G.P.
353- Ib va-vn1 va: f# accentuated by homorhythm
355 different rhythm (353/1)
vn1: short notes, also
pizzicato
436- Ie all f# almost permanently shift: deceleration by
440 present, starting with larger rhythm
consonant fifth (bars
436/4-437/1)
440/ Ie - no emphasis end tremolo
2
440/ Jb homorhythm
3
440- Jb all high presence f#, sustained chromatic movements
445 and doubled
495/ Je - no emphasis fermata
4
495/ Kb unison
4
495- Kb all unison ascending melodic Kb: unison
497 elements (containing f#)
ending on c#,
followed by rest
573- Ke - absence Ke: unison b
585
Table 13. String Quartet no. 5. Transitions.
To find out whether or not pitches f# and c# are limited to transitions, one
must have a closer look at the passages in between. Both pitches are scarcely
used as focal pitches, either combined with other pitches or more in the
background. Only a few places are found where both pitches are prominent:
sustained tritone dyad f#-c with doubled f# (bars 339-340) as part of a large
ascending line (bars 337-341); f# as sustained pitch quasi-solo (bars 523-
524), solo (bars 557-558) after an ascending line ending on f#-c# (bar 555)
and solo (bars 572-573).

In Blaubuch the situation is no different: pitches f# and c# keep their
ordering function. Separately or in combination they mark all eleven
transitions between the twelve sections.
Compared to the Fifth Quartet the presence of both pitches, f# and c#,is
even stronger. In the eleven transitions the result is more towards the
combined pitches: eight transitions with both, only two with pitch f# (A-B,
C-D) and only one with pitch c# (F-G). Both string quartets, nos. 5 and 6,
have the domination of the combined transitional pitches in common. The
distribution of the separate pitches, however, is different: in the Fifth
Quartet they are found in the second half of the piece, while in the Sixth
Quartet they are in the first half (for f#) and the middle (for c#). Another
difference is the ending of the piece: in no. 6 both pitches are emphasised,
in no. 5 they were absent.
As was the case in String Quartet no. 5, also in no. 6 some places other
than transitions stress these pitches, f# and/or c#, again not to such an extent
that both pitches should be considered as important outside the transitions.16
Reconsidering the initial question of how group formation can be based
on transitional pitches, for the time being the answer must be that the Fifth
and Sixth Quartets have much in common. The structural function of the
same pitches and the fact that both are Notebook Compositions, are strong
arguments to consider them as a pair.

In the Seventh String Quartet, the presence of pitches f# and c# is obvious,
but they can no longer claim the same framing function as in the previous
quartets. The Seventh Quartet is divided into an introduction, followed by
five sections and a coda.17 In the transitions, pitch c# is found only once, at
the end of the second section, while f# is present only in the transitions of
the first half of the piece, until the end of the third section. Afterwards the
combination c#-f# also appears once as a consonant dyad at the beginning
of the final section.
The less important role in the transitions does not mean that the
attention given to pitches f# and c# has weakened, but that it has shifted
from the transitions to other passages. The consonant dyad c#-f# is
emphasised in eighteen bars. Pitch f# is solo or unison in seventeen bars; f#
as part of the consonant dyad appears three times. Pitch c# is solo, quasi
solo or unison in 46 bars, because the cello solo is based on this pitch (bars
309-356).18 A special case is formed by the combined pitches f#-gb. This
combination is mostly used as a focal pitch, but also heard in almost 20
short solo moments, including the double “unison” f#-gb as main feature of
the extended violin solo (bars 245-267).19
Both pitches, c# and f#, are still “fundamentals” of the score, certainly
more than transitional axes. The timbral subtlety in the treatment of both
the c# and the combined f#-gb pitches makes them important in a completely
different way from in the previous quartets.

In the Eighth String Quartet the transitional function of pitches c# and f# is
abandoned. Looking for clues to pair Quartets nos. 7 and 8, this could be
seen as a logical consequence of their disappearance in the transitions of
the second half of String Quartet no. 7. The question now is the same as for
the previous quartet: whether both pitches continue to play a crucial role in
passages other than the transitions.
A few times f# is in the foreground: as a whole bar sustained solo
(bars 114-115/2) or as a unique pizzicato, which breaks the long held silence
(bars 142/1-148/4 interrupted at 143/1). The pitch is also important as the
starting note of a seven times returning melodic element in the viola during
the first section of the piece (see Ex. 41, p. 160): bars 18, 21, 24 with
imitation in the cello, bar 34 with fermata, bars 43, 45 (end note: g#) and bar
47. The short rests emphasise the three limbs of the melodic element, which
is permanently varied. In bar 39 pitch e is inserted in the first limb: f#(+10)
e(-11/-18)dyad bb-e. In the last appearance in bar 47 the ascending interval

f#(+4)bb is answered by the first violin with f#(-14)eb.
It is also typical of Rihm that at a certain moment a leading element
moves to the background or is no longer used: once past bar 47 the interval
f#(+4)bb disappears completely from the score. What is found afterwards is
a returning cluster dyad combination f#-g followed by g#-a, always heavily
accentuated in the viola and the cello (bars 183-194, 199-200, 203, 208-
209). As a reminder of the melodic element starting with f#, some short fast
melodic elements, exclusively in the first violin, are now in turn ending on
this pitch: bars 229, 244-245, 245, 246 (exceptionally in the second violin)
and 248.
The other central pitch c# appears frequently and in very different
settings: solo and unison in bar 41, enharmonically as db in a long quasi-
solo by the second violin (bars 56-64), with fermata (bars 176-177), as
repeated bass note in the cello (bars 178-181), as part of the consonant
dyad c#-g# (bar 23), and in the smallest cluster combinations b-c# and c-c#
in the ultimate bar (bar 304). The consonant dyad c#-f# sounds only once,
very shortly, at the end of bar 37, when c# is added to the sustained f#.
Though again in a totally different way, the central pitches keep their
primary role in this quartet, as it was in the Seventh, no longer as transitional
pitches but as central pitches in other passages. This confirms the alternative
grouping of the quartets: analysing central pitches, there is more reason to
form two pairs, nos. 5-6 and 7-8, than a triad based on the shared opening
pitch followed by a single quartet.
Closing Pitch
While much attention is paid to the opening pitch, it might also be
interesting to have a look at the closing pitches of the string quartets.
In String Quartet no. 8, near the end after the already quoted con amore
(bar 273), all instruments focus on unisons and single tones, albeit
“disturbed” (accompanied and interrupted) by chords or percussive noises.
The series of single tones (unisons) consists of g-f-g#-a-b (bars 274/4-277/1,
277/2-4, 278/1-279/2, 279/3-303/2 and 303/3-304/2, respectively). To the
concluding pitch b, sustained and accentuated as a double harmonic sffffz
in both violins, the pizzicato cluster dyad c-c# is added twice as final sound:
a Bartók-pizzicato echoed by a pp pizzicato. However, pitch b is the final

arco sound in no. 8, as was the case in the Fifth String Quartet.
Moreover, in the Fifth Quartet, the final pitch b is preceded by a passage
similar to no. 8: sustained notes solo are “disturbed” by other sounds (even
more disturbed in no. 5 than in no. 8). The series starts with f# and continues
with a, ab and again f# (bars 557-558/3, 562/4-564/3, 567/2-572/3 and
572/4-574/1, respectively). It is followed by an ascending chromatic series
(bars 575-579) to reach the final unison pitch b (bars 579/4-585),
emphasised and repeated in all four instruments.
In String Quartet no. 7, a pizzicato b by the cello is inserted in the
percussive woodblocks of the final bar: the last sound of the quartet is
pitch b.
Only String Quartet no. 6 is the exception here: no stress on pitch b in
its final bars.
That makes three of the four quartets closing on pitch b. This resemblance
is as strong or as weak as the opening f#, no reason enough to consider the
Fifth, Seventh and Eighth String Quartets as a triad.
Two Pairs of String Quartets

As mentioned previously, the fact that the Fifth and Sixth Quartets are both
Notebook Quartets is the strongest possible argument to consider them as
a pair.
The other pair, nos. 7 and 8, have timbral aspects in common. Timbral
research is an important issue in both, which must not only be concentrated
on the central pitches as explained above. In both quartets there are also
quasi-stasis moments on other pitches, such as the violins sustaining pitch
a in unison harmonics with different dynamics in no. 8 (bars 279-289), or
also in no. 8 the same pitch a in the first violin with consonant and dissonant
comments by the other instruments (bars 290-303). Another example in
the same string quartet is bar 55, repeated twenty-one times with
accelerando: trills sul ponticello combined with ricochet col legno create an
evolving percussive timbre, and the sound aspect diminishes while noise
emerges. In the Seventh Quartet there is a coloured stasis on the perfect
fourth d-g, combining cello and violin (bars 289-303) and another one on
the tritone dyad c#-g (bars 346-355), next to shorter similar passages.
Another common aspect: both string quartets have percussive added

timbres. In the Seventh Quartet woodblocks are added to the string
instruments, in the Eighth the thorough use of ricochet and even more
ricochet col legno is percussive and noise-like, as is the manipulation of
paper. For both quartets the role given to silence is shared and not without
importance.
A last common event is the double unison with possible beating or
sharp dissonance, as described above: f#-gb in String Quartet no. 7 and g#-ab
in no. 8. After its first appearance in the viola (bars 25/4-29/1), the double
unison g#-ab is given to all four instruments (bars 120/1-127/2 and 131/1-
3), the beating is really searched for by quartertones and by glissandos over
a semitone or quartertone between g#-ab and a (see p. 164). The subtlety of
pitch manipulation here towards a timbral effect again confirms my
statement that f#-gb and g#-ab are quasi-unisons with inherent beating and
not one enharmonically notated single tone.
In spite of all arguments listed above, it must be said that, following
Rihm, all his string quartets are individual pieces without relation, cyclic
intention or grouping. In a recent dialogue between Wolfgang Rihm and
Lucas Fels, cello player of the Arditti String Quartet, the question was asked
whether all his string quartets (twelve at that moment) form one group or
can be divided into different groups. Rihm’s answer was clear: each string
quartet is an individual piece, independent from the others.20
Notebook Quartets: Hidden Structure

In String Quartet nos. 5 and 6, hidden behind the audible sequence of
sections and phrases with their individual foreground characteristics, their
breaks, blockings, noise shifts and other unexpected events, lies an inaudible
background structure. This background structure is comparable to the
geometrical background figures in fine arts and architecture, consisting of
symmetry and balance, including also the location of the middle and of the
golden section. Next to this, my analytical findings show a probability of
the use of the looking back technique and of mirroring, with symmetrical
and balanced events as a result, even in the Notebook Quartets.
It must be repeated that neither in Rihm’s texts nor in the sketches is

symmetry or golden section ever mentioned. However, there is an audible
hint: small symmetrical elements could be found at the micro-level, the
audible “metaphor” for the large hidden symmetries. To restrict to one
example of small symmetrical elements in String Quartet no. 5 I concentrate
on the returning short solos of the first violin (bars 17, 59, 204, 462,
respectively; Ex. 49). No symmetry is found in the first solo (bar 17).
Repeated notes are common in the four passages, but less in the last one.
The octave repetition in bar 60 (second solo) can be seen as a symmetrical
germ: there is a resemblance in the notes before and after. In the third solo,
repetition is again more stressed, but repeated limbs create the feeling of
symmetry (see also Ex. 35, p. 118). The last solo is related to the previous
ones and results in symmetrical elements (indicated by brackets).
17
bnœœ ] bœ
5
& 44 [
nœ œ œ œ bœ nœ
n œv v v nœ œ œ
fff v v v v v v v v
59
&44
3 3 3 3
bœ nœ bœ nœ nœ œ œ œ œ nœ bœ œ œ Œ
3 3 3
n œ b >œ ™ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. b œv œv v v b œv v v v n œv v œv v
v v v v v v
fff
& 4 ææR ≈nœ

ord.
4 nœ
204 6 6 6 6 6
bœ nœ bœ œ bœ nœ bœ
# œ œ œ >bœ. n œ œ # œ œ œ >bœ. n œ œ # œ œ œ œ >bœ. v # œv # œ œ œ >bœ. n œ œ
> vv v v v > vv v v v > vv v v vvv vv
nœ ™ œ ™ #œ ™ nœ œnœ œ œ œ œ nœ œ n˙
molto marcato
4
462 3
&4 œ
# œ. #>œ nœv. œv. nœ. œ. # œ. # œ #œ v. > > > v. > # œv sfffz
> p sfff fff
v v v v
Ex. 49. Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5, 17, 59-60, 204-205, 462-465. Symmetrical
elements indicated by brackets (bars 462-465).
Another audible hint: how small elements disappear or become hidden by

transformation and elaboration can be viewed in an example from the
beginning of the Sixth String Quartet. Immediately after its presentation, a
clear figure is elaborated in such a way that it loses its original characteristics
to disappear in the anonymity of chromaticism. In Ex. 26, the opening
figure or figure 1 of this quartet was defined by two intervals (-2/+1). Ten
bars later the Fortspinnung provokes transformations and the disappearance
of its identity: (-2/+1) inverted and retrograde, replaced by the
complementary intervals, (-11/+10) for instance (Ex. 50).
° 4 > b >œ nœ bœ nœ
nœbœ nœbœbœ nœ nœ#œ nœ nœ #œ nœ#œ œ nœ #œ nœbœ nœ #œ bœ
Vn1 & 4 #œ nœ nœbœ#œ nœ nœ
sffz sffz
bœ nœ bœ nœ
4 b œ b œ b œ nœ b œ nœ nœ #œ >œ bœ nœbœ#œ #œ
nœ b
¢
Vn2 & 4 nœ nœ nœ#œ nœ nœ #œ bœ nœ
bœ nœ# œ #œ
^.
° n Rœ
sffz
15
& ≈ ≈ bœ #œ nœ nœ r ≈ ‰ Œ
# œ nœ n œ nœ # œ bœ nœ.
# œ nœ n œ n œ v
#œ nœ^.
¢& nœ ‰
#œ ™ nœ nœ n œ nœ bœ n œ nœ b œ.
Œ
p ff v
Ex. 50. String Quartet no. 6, Blaubuch, 14-15, vn1-2. Pointed brackets: figure 1,
original and transformations.
In the case of the Fifth Quartet, one cannot deny the emphasis given to this
particular moment: the longest solo single tone and the longest solo
melodic element in the second violin (bars 294/1-297/1) mark the middle
of the composition, as explained in Ex. 39. This place functions as an axis
or pivot for symmetrically placed events.
A first example of symmetry is found in the time signature changes. The
score of Ohne Titel is continuously in 4/4, except for one bar of 2/4, four
times 5/4 and seven interruptions by short moments of 3/4. With the
following symmetries, I can cover all 3/4 time signature changes:
- B
ars 149-156: time signature changes to 3/4, with the aim of
intensifying the acceleration and bewildering: noch schneller, wild. At
the symmetrical place, bar 437, exactly 149 bars before the end, there
is a time signature change for only one bar. That these places are
almost exactly at one quarter and three quarters of the quartet (resp.
bar 146 and 438) can be by coincidence.
- B
ar 210: one bar 3/4. Almost symmetrically, bar 373 (instead of 585-
210=375): one bar of 3/4 is found.
There are also some places of presumed hidden symmetry:
- B
ar 441: one bar of 3/4. Here I find balance instead of symmetry: in
the corresponding bars 144-148 (585-441=144), there is the sudden
introduction of ternary rhythms, first homorhythmic except for the
first violin playing high sustained notes, and all homorhythmic and
martellato in, indeed, bar 149 in 3/4, as noted above in the first
comparison. Sustained notes in the high register of the first violin,
accompanied by hectic movement in the others is also the case in bars
431-435.
- B
ar 357, one bar of 3/4 is symmetric with bar 228 in 4/4 (Ex. 51), but
strangely enough with a crossed or deleted bar line after three beats in
the parts of the second violin and the viola and after two beats in the
cello part, and not in the staff of the first violin playing a whole note.
Is this Rihm’s kind of “game” or only a simple “double” mistake,
nevertheless exactly at the symmetrical place?
That symmetry is an important structuring mean is confirmed by some

other events:
- Th
e subito calmo after the hectic opening phase ends in bar 59. In bar
528, 57 bars from the end, the obsessive rhythmic repetitions come to
a definite end.
- Th
e tremolo harmonics in the violins over a long period are
symmetrical in bars 81-120 and 470-505 (115-80 bars from the end):
using the same pitches c#-d, but also alternating with d-eb in the
second passage (see Ex. 32, p. 107; Ex. 33, p. 117).
- A
lot of harmonics mark the passage from bar 192 on, culminating in
bars 201-204 with a tremolo passage in all strings. At the symmetrical
place, bar 382-388 (203-197 bars from the end) a long tremolo passage
starts, continued with few interruptions until bar 440, although with
subito tremolo sul ponticello in all instruments in bars 390-393 (192-
195 bars from the end).
- Th
e elaboration of the g-c# tritone, introduced by the first violin (see
Ex. 35, p. 118) in bar 204 and obsessively continued in the viola until
bar 213, marks the start of a new section. The same tritone is
emphasised in bars 374-375 in the viola (211 bars before the end),
also starting a new section, but evolving in a completely different way
directly afterwards.
- A
last symmetrical event: sustained notes in the first violin (bars 227-
230) are continued (with a few interruptions) until bar 268,
culminating in two harmonics sustained over eleven bars (bars 269-
279). The symmetrical place is also a long passage with sustained
notes in the first violin, lasting over 31 bars: 318-349 (or 236-267 bars
from the end) and beginning with harmonics almost over the same
length (bars 318-322 and 325-331, in between the first violin
continues in the same high register).
w
° 4
&4
n˙ ™
Vn1
œ^ œ^ œ^ œ^
& 4 n˙ ™
4
3
œ œ œ œ bœvœ œvœ œœ
ææ >
Vn2
> >œ sfffz

B 44 ‰ bnœœ ˙˙ œœ n
bœ
Va J
sfffz p
^. fff sfffz
nœ^ ^
œ ^
œ b ^ œ^ nœ^ n œ
œ n>œ
?4 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ R ≈
Vc
¢ 4 nœ #œ œ œ œ #œ^ Œ ‰ & J
w w sfffz
°
229
&
& ˙˙ nbœœ ˙˙ ™™

3
j
nb˙˙ bœœ
> >
B ˙ nbœœ ˙˙ ™™
>
sfffz sfffz p fff
˙ b ˙˙
n bnœœ >
J
sfffz 3
(fff) sfffz p fff
w w
¢&
(fff)
Ex. 51. Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5, 228-230. Dotted line: originally crossed out
bar line in bar 228: not in the first violin, after the third beat in the second
violin and the viola, after the second beat in the cello.
While unison and consonant moments are rather exceptional in the Sixth
String Quartet, there can be a suspicion of purpose in finding them at
symmetrical places, although it cannot be proven in an irrefutable way. The
first example below can seem more convincing than the second.
Nevertheless, if these examples are only similar and in symmetrical places
by chance, they still are full proof of the unintentional presence of focal
pitches and moreover an illustration of how the same pitch aggregates
return at great distance.
- B ars 160-176 and 678-694 [672-688]

This moment is marked by single tones and unisons f#, g# c, b (bars
160-165) at the beginning and by the consonant dyad e-b (bar 176) at
the end with dissonant sustained chords in between. In the
corresponding passage, bars 678-694 [672-688] (160-176 bars from
the end), the concentration on the same unison f# is also obvious in
bars 678-684 [672-678]. Five bars of dissonance (with focus on f#)
lead to the consonant dyad c#-f#, lasting for four beats in bar 690
[684]. The following bars 691-695/1 [685-689/1] are also full of
consonant chords, with the dyad e-b in bar 694 [688].
- B ars 348-355/1 and 496-502 [494-500]

The first bars 348-352 of this passage concentrate on the repeated
consonant triad d-f-a in an accentuated staccato regular quaver
rhythm, alternating with the consonant dyad ab-c (bar 350/1) and
ending on f-db in bar 353/4 followed by the consonant triad f-ab-c in
the next bars 354/4-355/1. In the symmetrical passage (bars 496-502
[494-500] or 348-354 from the end) the texture is completely different,
but the consonant chord f-ab-c is found in bars 496-497 [494-495]
(353-354 bars from the end, with f and c in the viola part) with
repeated pitch ab and pitch f alternating with the “ominous” f#; in bar
499 [497] d-a becomes the central dyad (351 bars from the end); the
consonant chord f-ab-c is repeated in bars 500-501 [498-499] (349-
350 bars from the end). The episode ends with the consonant dyad
d-g, sustained during the whole bar 503 [501]. It contains pitch d as
in the corresponding beginning, while the most convincing
symmetrical element is of course the consonant triad f-ab-c.
There is a difference in the use of symmetry between the Fifth and the Sixth
Quartets. In the former the symmetry is more exact, for instance in the
harmonic tremolo passages on the same pitches. In the latter, it is more
about balance than exact symmetry. To give some examples in the Sixth
Quartet:
- B ars 44/4-50/3 and 801-809 [795-803] or 45-53 bars from the end
The extended hocket moment on pitch a in the first member of this
comparison is mirrored in a variety of hocket techniques in the
second one. The first hocket is “balanced” in different ways: firstly by
short unison single tones separated by rests, then by alternating three
players with one (bars 803/4-804/2 [797/4-798/2]). In the next bars a
two-note group with the ascending third evolves from hocket to
continuous playing with voice exchange in pairs (bars 806-807/3
[800-801/3]). The passage ends with “broken” melodic elements in
the violins (bar 809 [803]), a recall of the fast movement of the first
violin in bars 44-50, where figures 1, 2 and 3 are identifiable.
- B ars 259-272 and 574-595 [568-589] or 259-280 from the end
Strictly symmetrical with bars 259-269 are bars 585-595 [579-589],
both marked by repetition. In the second half, from bar 574 [568] on,
the dyad c#-d is repeated, also sustained and with tremolo, mostly by
all instruments. From bar 585/4 [579/4] on or the exact symmetrical
place, the repeated dyad is assigned to the violins while viola and
cello play a unison melody. This is in balance with the first member,
where c#-d is part of the repeated chord in viola and cello, shifting to
a less repeated c#, keeping c#-d as focal pitches and ending with
unison d in bars 271/4-272/2. Here also not all instruments take part
in repetition until the end of the passage. From bar 265 on, the first
violin and the cello play melodic-rhythmic elements, while the others
stay concentrated on repetition until bar 269. Repetition with clear
focus in the second passage is balanced with partial and looser
repetition and focal pitches in the first one.
Bars Bars Instr. Event

from end
55-56 v1-vc first duo, consonant dyads e-b and d-a
non vibrato
404-408 59-55 v1-vc last duo, consonant dyads d-a and c-f,
also dissonant, noise-like, glissandos
63-65 v1-vc consonant dyad, unison, short accent vn2-va
400-402 63-61 v2-vc mostly consonant dyads
va-vc
72-73 vn1-2 harmonics, consonant dyad, unison
390-391 73-72 vn2-va consonant dyad
77-78 va sustained note c#
386-387 77-76 all vc: sustained note c#
others: f#
causing a sustained consonant dyad
80-82 vn2-vc vn2: col legno, Bogen fallen lassen, group of
demisemiquavers
vc: short f#
381-383 82-80 vc-all vc: sustained tritone c#-g
others: f#
va: group of four demisemiquavers, only group in
this passage, balanced with vn2 in bar 80
84-85 vc sustained b
375-379 88-84 vc sustained tritone c#-g
89 va-vc sustained white cluster d-e-f-g, fermata
90-91 vn1-2 rhythmic consonant dyad bb-eb
373-375 90-88 va-vc rhythmic and timbral consonant dyad c#-f#
followed by c#-f#-g
101-102 vn1-va hard pizzicato, Bartók-pizzicato
105-106 va-vc unison c, contrasting dynamics, pizzicato,
Bartók-pizzicato
362-372 101-91 wb solo
108-116 vn2-vc duo, changing timbres, also noise-like
123-133 wb “duo”: woodblock versus three string players
vn2-va-
vc
328-356 135-107 vc-wb mirrored “duo”: cello versus three woodblocks
135-142 all vn1 solo moments in every bar
also vn1-2 unison
also vn2 and vc: a few solo moments
145 vc solo
149-155 vc solo
308-326 155-137 vc solo based on c#
Table 14. String Quartet no. 7. Features contributing to the arch form (Abbreviation
wb: woodblock).
String Quartet no. 7: Arch Form

String Quartet no. 7 is original because of many reasons in addition to the
added woodblocks. There is a predilection for evolving sustained sounds
over repeated elements, except for the coda of course where the cello
repeats bar 436 [437] 24 times (interrupted once in bar 450 [451]). The
setting of the quartet is also made original by insertions of shorter and
longer solos and duos, put in symmetry or balance around the middle,
which creates an arch form. The importance of symmetry is suggested from
the beginning of the piece. In the introduction, symmetrical groups of
three notes and three chords are found: with irregular rhythm f#-c#-f# and
f#-g#-f# in bars 1-3; with shorter almost equal durations the dyads f#-g#, f§-a
and again f#-g# in bar 4.
In Table 14 features that contribute to the arch form are listed. They
contain symmetrical and balanced elements, as always with some tolerance.
The ending and the beginning of both members of a symmetrical event can
coincide, with the members as such spread to the outside of the symmetrical
bar. In other words: the ending of the member in the first half is symmetrical
with the beginning of the member in the second half of the score. The
symmetrical and balanced events involve solos and duos (quasi-solo and
quasi-duo). Even balancing a solo against unison from the rest of the
ensemble can be the case.
Between the two members of the last comparison in Table 14, from bar
155 to bar 307, which is at 75 bars from the middle of the score, the balanced
symmetry of the settings in solos and duos comes to an end. The long
passage based on f#-gb in the second half of the piece (bars 245-277), mostly
in the first violin solo, has no symmetrical answer. However, it is partly
balanced by the concentration on the double unison in the first violin,
present at bars 195-202 and 216-218 (symmetrical with bars 268-261 and
the first bars 247-245, respectively).
The fact that the woodblock is heard in the opening and closing bars
can be a small contribution to reinforcing the arch form. That the woodblock
can find a match in hard pizzicato and Bartók-pizzicato is quite acceptable
in view of Rihm’s refined attention to and elaboration of timbral aspects,
described in the previous chapter.
The balanced symmetry is based not only on the setting (solo, duo,
unison group, use of woodblocks), but also on musical characteristics as
such (pitch, rhythm, articulation). Once more, this results in coherence
more at the compositional process level than in directly audible or easily
perceptible events.
String Quartet no. 8: Structure based on Fibonacci Series

The fact that bar 55 is repeated 21 times could be a doublehint of the
application of Fibonacci numbers in the Eighth String Quartet. Indeed,
particular events can be found at most bars defined by a Fibonacci number
(Table 15).
Fibonacci Event
bar number
1 ricochet, short
2 G.P.
3 “real” start of the quartet
5 white cluster d-e-f-g: “symbolic” importance
8 first change of time signature and of tempo (accelerando) in bar 9
13 consonance, fermata, end of “sound”
tempo change in the next bar
followed by paper manipulation
21 unique event: a sheet of paper is thrown to the ground
end of paper manipulation
34 fermata, tempo change in the next bar
55 time signature change
bar repeated 21 times, accelerando
89 no special event
144 single pizzicato in long passage of G.P. (bars 138-159)
with a few interruptions
233 no special event
Table 15. String Quartet no. 8. Particular events in bars defined by a Fibonacci
number.
This first application with the focus on particular events in bars marked by
a Fibonacci number is not completely satisfactory: no remarkable event is
found at bars 89 and 233. It is typical of Rihm to apply a system
inconsequentially.
Section Bars Fibonacci Event

number
A 1-8 8 bar 9: time signature change, tempo change
poco accelerando
1-13 13 tempo q = 80 with slight tempo change (bar
9)
2-9 8 from G.P. to rest on fermata, prolonged with
G.P. in bar 10
14-21 8 paper manipulation
17-30 13(14) tempo q = 80
18-53 34(35) returning melodic element
35-55 21 tempo q = 80
55 21 repeated bar, accelerando to presto
60-72 13 from G.P. to G.P.
B 73-106 34 repeated ascending three note groups, in 2/4
tempo schneller (so schnell wie möglich)
120-127 8 unique slow tempo, q = 40 ca.
128-135 8 from G.P. to start passage with rests and short
sounds
138-150 13 G.P. with three extreme short sounds
152-159 8 G.P. with one short sound
138-159 21 G.P. with short sounds (addition of the two
lines above)
C (159/3) 160-173 13(14) q = 80 – 100
177-185 8(9) time signature 4/4
204-212 8(9) tempo meno mosso
204-217 13(14) time signature 4/4
215-235 21 tempo q = 100 ca.
219-241 21(22) time signature 4/4
229-242 13(14) repetition
239-252 13 so schnell wie möglich
D 251-304 54 time signature 4/4
(252/3)
Table 16. String Quartet no. 8. Events whose duration is determined by a Fibonacci
number.
I attribute a symbolic meaning to the white cluster in bar 5, since Rihm

pays attention to symbols and metaphors in the music of this string quartet.
“White” can be a new sheet of paper, not written on yet; it can be a kind of
new beginning, in relation to the “message” con amore.
The second application of Fibonacci numbers, on durations of a specific

item, is spread over the whole composition. Because of their brevity, it is
impossible to decide whether or not events lasting three or five bars are
inspired by a Fibonacci number. Therefore they are not listed in the chart
below. But when, for instance, the time signature 5/4 is found only twice
during three bars each (bars 9-11, 248-250), next to twice for one bar only
(bars 23, 28), or when frequent time signature and tempo changes last for
short durations of one, two, three or five bars, the presumption of Fibonacci
series application must not be ruled out. In the chart below the tolerance for
Fibonacci linked durations is one bar: bars 1-13 are counted as thirteen bars,
so are bars 17-30 (the strict duration without tolerance is noted in brackets);
of course some data of the previous chart must be repeated here (Table 16).
In Table 16, tempo is listed ten times, silence six times, time signature
and composition content (repetition, melodic element, paper timbre) each
five times. The different categories related to Fibonacci numbers are quite
restricted in number. It may be surprising that the noise-like ricochet and
ricochet col legno, the typical timbres of this string quartet, are not related to
Fibonacci numbers.
The two locations of the golden section (0.382, bars 116-117 and 0.618,
bars 187-188) are not given special attention: a solo instrument with a
sustained note and a sustained chord followed by a tempo change,
respectively, cannot be interpreted as strong indications when compared to
unique events linked to the golden section in other compositions. However,
the middle of the score is again rather exceptional: around bar 152, a
passage of complete silence (bars 138-159) is interrupted only a few times
by a short sound, except for a full sounding bar just before the middle (bar
151). In bar 152, the longest silence of the whole quartet begins, lasting for
six bars. This passage is linked to Fibonacci numbers as listed in Table 16.
From all the Fibonacci numbers mentioned in Table 15, only two
coincide with the beginning of a phrase (bars 34 and 55). However, from all
bar numbers in Table 16 (defining the beginning of an event), eleven
coincide with the beginning of a phrase (more than half of the 20 phrases
of the quartet). Moreover, all section opening bar numbers are listed in this
table. The conclusion is that, to a certain extent, formal aspects are inspired
by Fibonacci numbers.
11
Group Formation: Chiffre Cycle
The Meaning of “Chiffre”
E tymologically, the word “Chiffre” means “secret character”: unreadable,

unfamiliar, not belonging to the well-known alphabet. In his
descriptions of the Chiffre pieces, Rihm repeatedly lists the following terms:
“cuneiform script” (Keilschrift), “hieroglyphs” (Hieroglyphen), “unfamiliar
characters” (fremde Zeichen) and “warning signs” (Menetekel).1 As it is
Rihm’s aim to provide the listener with as many “inviting openings” to his
music as possible, he links a lot of metaphors and synonyms to the term
Chiffre. Most of all he uses Zeichen, which can be translated in many ways:
character, sign, signal, mark, marker, reference, symbol and indication.
Rihm could probably be referring to the musical notation: both for the
composer and the performer, the musical notation exists of a kind of “secret
characters” or “chiffres”: clefs, notes, rests, numbers, performance
indications. In music the most evident meaning described as Zeichen im
Klang, “sound character” and “written sound” (also musikalische Zeichen,
Klangzeichen, eine Folge klingender Zeichen, Schrift im Klang, Klangschrift).
Referring to the scientist Blaise Pascal, Rihm concludes that a Chiffre has
always a double meaning, a clear one and a hidden one:
‘Chiffre’ is an ambiguous term with many meanings: sign, but also

number; it is possible to decipher them but not a must. They can also
be left as they are, as a sign language, or be understood as a motion
pulse.2
When Rudolf Frisius gives a list of musical characteristics in a 1984

interview about Chiffre, Rihm interferes with one word: Zeichen or “signs”.
209
There [in the Chiffre cycle] the development starts out from tiny,
contrasting elements, from elements that are each by themselves
characterised…
Signs [Zeichen]…
… from intervals (for instance fifths), from well-defined timbres or from
a specific touch model on the piano.3
For Chiffre I the composer explains that both the piano sound and the
sound of the other instruments form one and the same “character”
(Zeichen). While the instruments build a resonance space (Resonanzraum)
for the piano, this “character” becomes unreadable when the piano and the
other instruments are separated from each other.4
From Chiffre III on, Rihm enriches his comments with specific
terminology from the world of fine arts: in Chiffre III the “written-like”
(Schrifthafte) is stepping back and the “plastic” is coming to the fore. “Plastic
of sound(steel)threads” (Plastik der Klang(Stahl)fäden) is found in the
description of Chiffre IV and “sound plastic” goes with Bild. “Plastic units”
are at the root of Chiffre V and, like String Quartet no. 8 (see p. 97), Chiffre
VI is “blackened”, with a “dark character” (dunkles Zeichen). For Chiffre VII,
the terms “perspective” and “melody” are combined in Perspektivische
Melodik. “Perspective” returns in the three lines Rihm wrote on Chiffre
VIII, accompanied by “black-grey-green sculpture” (schwarz-grau-grüne
Skulptur). According to Alastair Williams, the concept of sculpture must be
identified with the sculpting of the individual sound, “every sound as a
sculpture in itself ”, as described in the context of the Klangbeschreibung
series (Klangbeschreibung I-III), composed at the same time as the Chiffre
cycle. In his opinion, Rihm’s focus on sound-sculpture is “concerned not
with constructivist models of multi-dimensional objects, but with the idea
of sound as tactile, as plastic, as something to be moulded in composer’s
hands.”5
Anyway, all approaches described above do not exclude the ambiguity
and enigmatic character of the term “Chiffre”. Already in the opening
phrase of his very first comment on Chiffre I, Rihm introduced the term
Arte Cifra, defined as enigmatic and symbolic (rätselhafte, zeichenhafte
Kunst). In the same opening line, the composer undermined all possible
explanations by the refusal or the confirmation of the impossibility of a
definition: “Chiffre ist … eine Chiffre”.
11 – Group Formation: Chiffre Cycle 211
Chiffre: a Cycle
Why did Rihm add a tenth piece in 2004 to the “closed” cycle of the 1980s?
The reason for this epilogue must be found in Rihm’s changed aesthetic in
the 1990s. He concentrates more and more on formal problems related to
overwriting and on intertextuality through insertions of existing material
into new compositions. Nach-Schrift offers the cycle a rounded form, since
it is the overwritten return of the opening piece.
The next question is whether or not Chiffre VIII is a fundamental part of
the cycle. Like Nach-Schrift, it was written later than the core of the cycle.
And because of the addition of Nach-Schrift, Chiffre VIII has lost its
concluding function. The continuity of the compositional process of the
cycle was broken: a gap of three years between Chiffre VIII and the earlier
pieces, composed continuously over a short period of four years. Chiffre VIII
is also exceptional for its conciseness: only 40 bars, lasting about four
minutes. However, there are different reasons to include Chiffre VIII into
the cycle. Its setting is related to the cycle because of the priority given to
bass instruments (see the list of Analysed Compositions, p. 27). There is no
percussion and the only strings are two cellos, as was the case in Chiffre I.
Indeed, the setting of Chiffre VIII is the closest to that of the opening piece,
closer than any other number of the cycle. Another reason is that for
Chiffre VIII Rihm repeats the same terminology as in his description of
other pieces of the cycle. Rihm himself causes a certain confusion when he
describes Chiffre VIII as a “remembering, return and anticipation”
(Erinnerung, Zurücknahme und Vorgriff) at the same time, followed by:
Nichts Finales, Randbereich or “nothing final, on the edge, periphery.”6
Denoting a composition group as a “cycle” is rather exceptional for
Rihm. He also described Tutuguri as a cycle,7 but in its final version all
previous stages are merged into Tutuguri, Poème dansé: a composition in
one movement, lasting for one hundred minutes, where the cyclic idea is
dissolved. In other cases, Rihm opts for more neutral terminology: “groups”,
“series”, “work in progress” with possibly different preparatory stages or
“states” (Zustände).8 More private indications are found when the composer
is dealing with close friends: Pol – Kolchis – Nucleus, where the central
piece dedicated to the painter Kurt Kocherscheidt is described as a
“triptych” (Triptychon) (see p. 112) and the series of five compositions in
memoriam Luigi Nono are piece by piece “attempts” in the subtitles

(Versuche) (see p. 61).
In 2002, Rihm redefined the Chiffre series as a cycle (ein richtiger
Zyklus), different from his concept of later projects, such as Vers une
symphonie fleuve and Jagden und Formen, where he opts for a series of
different stages as “new states” (neue Zustände).9 For this kind of group
composition, in 2012 he coined the term “work family” (Werkfamilie),
defined as works composed over a period of several years and developed
from the same “germ piece” (Keimstück). As examples he adds Séraphin and
Jagden und Formen, but also the Chiffre cycle.10 This is rather surprising, for
while the function of Chiffre I as “germ” is evident, it is at the same time
absolutely different from the germ-functions of the predecessors of the
other titles he mentions. Also their genesis is not comparable and the
technique of overwriting is treated in a completely different way in the
Chiffre cycle compared to Jagden und Formen. With great subtlety Rihm
stresses the fact that the Chiffre compositions are on the one hand
“independent pieces”, no more changed once finished and existing in only
one state, and on the other hand that “certainly ‘genetic’ material from one
piece appears in the others.”11
Asked about the origin of his fascination for work cycles, Rihm refers to
the cyclic concept in fine arts, where series of paintings cause one and the
same theme to become “plural” (Bestimmte Motive werden mehrfach): his
examples are the series Venus with Organ Player by Titian and the series of
Pope Portraits by Francis Bacon, originally inspired by Velasquez’s portrait
of Pope Innocent X. This may be nothing more than coincidence: Bacon
also uses a technique with flowing and dripping paint in some of his Pope
Portraits, resulting in a deformed image comparable to overpainting. Rihm
explains how interesting it always has been for him “to work out something
new while working simultaneously at the same”, further described as
“staying in the continuity of creative change” and “always getting something
new out of the same source”.12
12
Chiffre Cycle: Harmony
I n this chapter, the accent may seem to be on quantitative analysis,

numbers and percentages. The quantitative analysis is not an aim as such:
I try to interpret quantitative results in a qualitative way and to link both
quantitative results and qualitative characteristics.
The Tritone-Triad
Aware of the importance of the tritone-triad, one would expect that it is
probably the most present and unifying chord of the Chiffre cycle. Nothing
is less true, although the tritone-triad is heard already in the opening bars
of Chiffre I. The first chord of this composition (bar 1/1, lasting for a
semiquaver, Ex. 52) is another kind of chord typical of Rihm: a quasi-
cluster combining the separate pitch, c with the cluster e-bb. Of course, all
attention goes to the hammered doubled pitch a of the piano, and
immediately afterwards the other instruments form the resonance space
for the soloist. The resulting chord a-bb-c-e-f (bar 1/1-2) is followed by the
tritone-triad bb-e-f (bar 1/3-4).
213
>
nw
° 4
q = 80
Cl &4
fff
? 44
Bn
¢
bw
>
> >œ
fff
n˙
Tpt
4
&4 R ≈ ‰ Œ
ff p ff sffz
nb Ȯ
°? 4 #nOœ. sul pont.≈
^
Vc I 4 nœ ‰ Œ
R sfffz pp
^. sul pont. nn Ȯ
? 44 #nœœR
¢
Vc II ≈ ‰ Œ
sfffz pp
?4
‹ 4 n˙ r ≈ ‰ Œ
œ
Db
fff p > >
“”
œ^.
fff sfffz
n>œ œ. œ. œ. œ.
&4
4 Œ Ó
3 3
Pf sfffz ff sfffz
? 44 3 3
Œ Ó
n œ. œ. œ. œ œ. œ.
“‘
> >.
Ex. 52. Chiffre I, 1.
It takes until the end of the second phrase before the tritone-triad is present
in the foreground. Further striking appearances are rather scarcer than one
would expect (Table 17).
12 – Chiffre Cycle: Harmony 215
Bar Chord Function and Place

21/1 c-f-f# end phrase
41/3 bb-e-f announcement piano solo, generative pole
43/4-44/2 e-a#-b chord accompanying piano solo
50/3-4 ab-db-d chord accompanying piano solo
66/4-67/2 e-a-bb before golden section (0.382, bar 68)
77/3 b-f-f# introduction of the melodic generative pole, defined
as figure 3 (see p. 244, 253)
89/4-90/2 c-f#-g middle of the composition, part of the non espressivo
chorale-like passage, preceded by consonant perfect
fourth dyads (bar 88)
110/1 f#-c-db first chord following the location of the golden section
128/2-4 b-f-f# end phrase
142/1 b-f-f# end phrase
153/4-154/1 c-f-f# opening final section, f-b-c returning in bars 158-160
f-b-c
Table 17. Chiffre I. Locations of tritone-triads.
These findings can be generalised to all Chiffre pieces: there are many cases
where tritone-triads are combined with a particular function or
characteristic, or found at a particular location or a crucial moment.
- C hiffre II, bar 227/2, c-f#-g in the brass, Schalltrichter oben!, sfffz.
Echoed in soft dynamics on pitch a, five bars later (bar 232/2-4), at
the start of the melodic element in the woodwind instruments. The
final dyad of Chiffre II is the tritone f-b (bars 247-248), preceded by
b-f-f# in bar 244/1.
- C hiffre III, bar 94/1-2, c-f#-g in brass, piano and percussion at the
location of the golden section (0.618). The same triad c-f#-g lasts for
five beats (bars 54/1-55/1), at a Fibonacci number. The sustained
triad g#-c#-d concludes the dance-like phrase in bars 104/4-105/2.
- I n Chiffre IV, the calm ending of section A is a lange fermata pedal
resonance in the piano (bar 29). This is exactly at one quarter of the
score, made up of 115 bars. Just before, bars 26-27 are fully occupied
by c-f#-g, played normally, mute and also resonating, while in bar
28, the tritone-triad eb-ab-a is added to c-f#-g, both resonating in the

next bar.
Bars 37-44 are centred round pitches c, f and f#, appearing as a tritone-
triad in bars 40/4-41/1 and 44/1-2. The same triad is found at the end
of the grand pause passage (bar 69/3-4), leading towards the unison
moment on pitch c#, at the location of the golden section (0.618, bar
71). Another tritone-triad, f#-b-c (bars 78/4-79/2) is followed by
unison c in bars 80-82. The fading endnote g starts on a tritone-triad
g-c-c# (bar 114, with resonating f).
- Th
e triad c-f#-g is the opening chord of Bild (bar 2/4). The opening
chord is repeated in the wind instruments in bar 6 with added notes
by the strings. The wind group insists on the tritone-triad: they
continue with f#-b-c (bar 10, 12), f-bb-b (bar 15) and b-f-f# sustained
in bars 15-18 by the wind instruments and doubled by the others
(with added pitch c). In the next bars 19-27, attention turns to pitches
c, c#, f and f#. The chord combination of these pitches, containing
different tritone-triads, concludes the third phrase (bar 20, see Ex. 43,
p. 165, the tritone-triad group). As a result, the whole opening section
of Bild is concentrated on tritone-triads. At the middle of the piece
the tritone-triads reappear in the piano: f#-b-c (bars 85-86) and c#-
f#-g (bars 86-87).1
- I n Chiffre V, the second section starts with the triad a-eb-e (bar 32). At
the middle of the score, bar 84, pitch eb is added to the repeated dyad
a-bb in the piano. Announcing the end of the piece, the tritone-triad
f#-c-c# opens bar 157, just before the indication “bells up”.
- C hiffre VI asks for special attention. The tritone-triad reigns over the
introduction (Ex. 53): after the unison pitch b starting bar 1, the
opening chord is f-b-c on the first semiquaver of bar 2, immediately
replaced by the consonant f-c. This is followed by a fast melodic
element in the cello (bar 3) where the broken chord g(-1)f#(-6)c is
found, and next to pitch c also pitches f and b are stressed, alluding
again to f-b-c. A very short c-f#-g is combined in the cello, first violin
and bass clarinet (bar 3/3). In bar 4/4, the repeated pitch d of the viola
alternates with g-c# in the violins and c§ in the cello. From bar 8 on,
the chord is again suggested by the melodic elements of bass clarinet
and cello. The repeated pitch d in the viola, overtaken by the bass
°? 4 ∑ ææ
q = 60 Flzg poss.
4 nw nFlzg
˙ poss. r ≈‰ Œ
°? 4
Bcl
n œ.
ææ subito
q = 60
>
sfffz v
pp
∑ ^ r ≈‰ Œ
? 444 j nœ. ≈ ‰
ffff
¢‹
Bcl
nwr ≈‰Œ Ó n>˙‰ #œ n Óœ.
Cbn
> R
nw œ. sfffz v
pp
^
j nœ. ≈ ‰
ffff subito fff
?4 > >r ≈‰Œ Ó ‰
¢‹ 4ffff
sfffz
#œ R Ó
>
Cbn sfffz
? 44 n wr ≈‰Œ Ó œ. ∑ r ≈ fff‰ Œ Ó
Hn > > nœ.
sfffz
n œ. sfffz sfffz
ffff
v
?4 v
Hn ? 4 r ≈‰Œ Ó ∑
sfffz
≈ ‰ Œ Ó
nœ. r ≈ ‰
‹ nn œw. sfffz œ
4 r ≈‰Œ Ó Œ Ó
sfffz v
Db
? 44 ffff>v non dim. >. ≈‰Œ Ó sfffznœr ≈ ‰

°‹ 4 r . Œ n#>ÓȮ
œ. ∑ sfffzÓv
Db sfffz
Vn I & 4 n w ∑
> >
° 4 ffff non dim. sfffz
>Ȯ fff
n#sfffz pp
Vn I & 4 ∑ ∑ Ó
Vn II & 4 ∑ ∑ ∑ pp
sfffz fff
4 ∑
Vn II & 4 ∑ ∑ martellato
Va B 4 ∑ ∑ Ó Œ
nmartellato
œv œv œv œv œv œv œv œv
4
ffff
Va B?4 ∑ ∑ Ó
sul p. ord. martellato
KŒ r
Vc
¢ 4 ∑ n œ nœ #œ bœnœnœœœœœ® œr nœ #œnœffffb œnnœœv. œv ≈œv œv ‰œv œv œv œv
w v n œv martellato
# œv v v n>œ v v v v v v v v n vœ v # œ œvv v r
® Kr nœ >
sul p. ord.
?4
¢ 4 ∑ nœv n œ # œ v #œv n œ v v nœv vœvœœœ
ffff subitonœ g-f#-c bœnœ b-f-c nœ nœ. ≈ ‰
pp
v v œv n vœgf# v #>œ œ #œv v b œv v

Vc
w
f
v v >
=
b
c
pp
f ffff subito g-f#-c b-f-c
c
g
=
b
c f#
c
°? Ó U
4 non vibr. lange
Œ ‰ ≈ r nœ. ≈ Œ ‰ n-œ œ ∑
nœ œ v J
°?
Bcl
> U
4 non vibr. lange
? Ó Œ ‰ ≈ sfffzr nsfffz
œ. ≈ Œ U ‰ n-œpppœ ∑
ææ
sfffz Flzg.
¢‹
Bcl
∑ nœ œ v ∑ J
Cbn
>
U w
bFlzg.
>
ææ
?
sfffz sfffz sfffz ppp
Cbn
¢‹ ∑ ∑ +
^ U
ffff (non dim.)
? ∑ Ó ‰ œ. ≈Œ b ∑w
>
Hn
R+
pizz. ‰«
^ U arco, sehr
ffff (non dim.)
? ∑ Ó œ. ≈ŒU dichtes∑ Tremolo
sfffz
æ
Hn ?
‹
∑ Ó ≈ ‰
R Œ
n wæ Tremolo
r
«
Db
^ n œ .
sfffz arco, sehr
U
? > ∑ ^. ^. . ≈ ‰ Œ nn œO ffffæ (non dim.)
U
sul pont. ord.
Db °
> Ó bb Oœ v
‰ ord.n ∑wæ
pizz.
‹
dichtes
n#Oœ nnOœ bnOœ Oœ nn Oœ nn Oœ r sfffz
Vn I & Œ R ≈ sulR ≈pont. ‰ R ≈ Œ n Œœ.
> ^. ^. ^. U
°
> b O v n3nppOœ ffff (non dim.)
n#Oœpnsfffz3 b O O
nOœ npœ œ nnsfffz
Oœ nnsfffz
Oœ b sfffz
œ
R^ ≈ Œ
sfffz
Vn I & Œ R ≈ sulR pont.

≈ ‰ Œ ‰ ∑
sfffz
> ^. sfffz
^. Oœ.
nnsfffz U
ord.
# #>Oœpnsfffz
n3 nO O
O n œ œ # # O
œ O
œ
b3bpp
Oœ
Vn II & Œ œ ≈ ≈ ‰ R ≈ Œ Œ ‰ ∑
sfffz
sfffz p
R sulR pont. Oœ^.
nsfffz U
>O n3>O nO O ^. sfffz
^.
ord.
# # O O n b3bpp
Oœ
Vn II & Œ
# œp nsfffz œ n pœ œ # œ≈ œ ≈ ‰
sfffz
R ≈ Œ Œ ‰ U ∑
sfffz bb O
sfffz
R R œ
B ≈ Œ 3 ‰ ‰ ≈
sfffz sfffz sfffz ‰ ≈‰
r 3pp ∑
n œv œv œv œv œvsfffzœv p sfffz p n œv œv œv œv œv œv n œv œv œv œv œv œv œv œv n œv œv œv œv œv œv œv œv œ. 3bU
Va
v b ppOœ
sfffz
Va B ≈ Œ ‰ ‰ ord. ≈ ^. ‰ ^. U ∑
^r ≈‰
?
¢ n œvÓ œv œv œv œv œv n Œœv œv œv œv ‰ œv œv n ‰œv œv œv œvnœv œv ≈œv œv ‰n œv œv ≈œv œv ‰œv œv œv œvnœ.. ≈Œ 3 ææ
Vc
R R Rv
nord.
œ. œ. sul pont. ^ ^. U aab n w
pp
^. >
ææ dichtes
? v v . ≈ ‰ sfffz
¢ Ó Œ ‰ ‰ n œ œ ≈ ‰ nœ ≈Œ
d-c#-g sfffz sfffz ffff (non dim.)
Vc sfffz sfffz
n œ.g œ. sul pont. R R R w
a nTremolo
eb sehr
d-c#-g v
c# v sfffz sfffz sfffz
d
>
ab ffff (non dim.)
c sfffz
sfffz eb sehr dichtes
g d Tremolo
Ex. 53. Chiffre VI, 1-6 (see Ex. 21, p. 88). c#
c
clarinet, results in bar 5 in the fermata tritone-triad d-eb-ab, with

pitch a§ in the first violin. This added pitch causes the tritone-triad
group d-eb-ab-a. Immediately afterwards the tritone-triad is left out of
the further development to reappear only when the place of the
golden section (0.618) is reached, bars 51-52 and later in bar 65 just
before the “painful glissando”, the “ugly sounds” and the 12-tone
chromatic cluster of bar 67.
- A gain with “bells up” in Chiffre VII, the triad d-ab-a is found in bars
65/3-67, this time at the location of one third of the piece, counting
198 bars. Before, the first section ends with a series of short tritone-
triads: the combined c-c#-f-f# is followed by b-e-f and c#-f#-g (bars
34/4-35/1). In bars 104-105, a few bars past the middle, chord e-bb-b
appears in soft dynamics.
- I n Chiffre VIII the ultimate chord of the whole cycle (leaving Nach-
Schrift out of consideration) is a tritone-triad: g-c-db (bar 40). Against
all odds, this is the only tritone-triad of the whole piece.
The number of tritone-triads in each Chiffre piece may appear rather small,
but the emphasis on that triad and its particular locations give it an exclusive
status: it is more than “privileged” by the composer.
The answer to the question whether the tritone-triad evokes tonal
reminiscences is negative. In its appearance as tritone-fourth combination,
for example c-f-f#, tonal references are completely absent. In the tritone-
fifth triad, for example f-b-c, it is not used as a kind of double functional
tonal chord with a lead note (the tritone) and a tonic (the fifth) at the same
time, based on the subdominant. The tritone-triad is clearly used as an
independent chord, without any reference to classical tonality. On the
contrary, this chord’s quality lies in its ambiguity, containing at the same
time the sharpest dissonance in the semitone, the ancient and pure
consonance in the perfect fourth or fifth (“pure” in the case of the open fifth
because of the absence of the major-minor duality) and the never fitting
and all systems undermining interval, the tritone.
Furthermore, the tritone-triad can be part of any kind of chord

progression or chord series. There are occasions where it is followed by a
tritone, by a small cluster, by a dissonant chord, by silence, or even where it
functions as the final chord of a phrase, with fermata, as shown in the list
above. However, there are a few cases where it is followed by a consonance
or unison. In Chiffre IV, g-db-d is followed by the consonant dyads f-c and
f#-b (bar 90): tonal references are avoided by the lack of semitone intervals
in the chord progression and by two melodic tritone intervals linking the
consonant dyads (f(+6)b and c(+6)f#). I could add that both dyads suggest
the tritone-fifth chord because of the possible combinations of f-b-c and
b-f-f#. In Bild the tritone-triad eb-a-bb is followed by the sustained eb, not a
solution but a “silent” or “resonating” continuation of the chord (bar 93). In
the opening phrase of Chiffre VI (see Ex. 53, p. 217), the viola insists on the
repeated pitch d, martellato and ffff (bars 3-12, with interruptions),
functioning as a focal pitch and even as an element of the tritone-triad
combination in bar 5 (taken over by the clarinet), again without any tonal
reference. Later, the chord eb-a-bb is followed by the unison c, but pitch d is
immediately added to c (bars 52-53).
As always, there is an exception: in Chiffre VII I could suspect some
tonal references when the tritone-triad d-ab-a is followed by the open fifth
d-a (bars 65-67) and when e-bb-b is immediately followed by the quasi-
symmetrically melodic element bb(+7)f(+4)a(-3)f#(-8)bb (bars 104-106),
which could be interpreted as a suggestion of F major, except for the
“denying” semiquaver f#.
Chromatic Cluster
In addition to the tritone-triad it is interesting to discuss another special
chord, the large chromatic cluster containing twelve, eleven or ten notes.
The latter can also consist of two separate clusters or of a single tone and a
cluster, both defined as “quasi-cluster”.
On pp. 169-170, some examples of the scarcely used large clusters in the
Chiffre cycle were already given. In all pieces of the cycle these three chords
are the least in quantity, fewer in number than all other kinds of chords from
dyads to 9-note combinations. This seems normal, but, at the same time, it
is an indication of the subtlety of Rihm’s harmony.
Cluster ChI ChII ChIII ChIV Bild ChV ChVI ChVII ChVIII
10 0 1 2 1 4 21 6 5 2
11 0 3 0 0 0 18 2 10 2
12 0 3 0 0 0 7 1 1 0
Table 18. Chiffre cycle. 10-, 11- and 12-note clusters.
The total cluster is absent in five pieces (Table 18), while in four of these five
pieces the 11-note cluster also is not found: Chiffre I, III, IV and Bild. The
highest number of clusters and quasi-clusters containing ten to twelve
notes is found in the second half of the cycle, most in Chiffre V, followed by
VII and VI.
In most cases, these clusters function as the climax of a chord chain,
preceded by an extending chord progression and followed by smaller
chords. In Chiffre II, bars 206-207 contain the total cluster and form the
climax of the chain started in bar 201 and ended in bar 208. The same goes
for the presence of 10-, 11- and 12-note clusters and quasi-clusters in the
chord chain of bars 4-13 in Chiffre V, with the total cluster in bar 10; later in
that piece, the chord chain of bars 142-155 with total clusters in bars 145
and 152 is directly followed by a new chord chain, culminating in total
clusters in bars 157 and 158.
A variant is the cluster at a climactic moment caused by other sound
qualities. In Chiffre VI, a new phrase starts with the total cluster (bar 67)
leading to the extreme high and ugly timbres in the following bars.
Yet another application of a large cluster is the climax at the end of the
composition. The 11-note cluster in bars 36-37 of Chiffre VIII is found
three bars before the final bar line. In the same way, a climactic cluster can
be found at the end of a phrase or section. In Chiffre III, the two 10-note
cluster combinations appear with fermata at the end of a phrase (bar 109,
134). The phrase preceding the trumpet solo in Bild contains 10-note quasi-
clusters in its penultimate bar (bar 130). A fermata emphasises the 11-note
cluster at the end of a phrase in Chiffre V (bar 53).
The opposite is the large cluster at the beginning of a piece, section
or phrase, often in contrast to consonance. In Chiffre II a consonant
dyad opens a symmetrical chord progression/reduction with an 11-note
cluster at the centre (bars 1-5, Ex. 54). In Chiffre VII a 10-note cluster is
in marked contrast to the opening consonant triad (bar 3); a tempo change
with clusters is found at the beginning of a new phrase (bars 153-154). In
Chiffre VI a phrase opening contains a 10-note cluster surrounded by
consonance (bar 28). In Chiffre IV, a 10-note cluster marks the start of a
new section (bars 58-59), in contrast to the silences and the returning
harmonic progression in the piano.
w n##nww #nnn#nww n##nww nw

& w w
ww w
ww w
ww
bw
n#nbbww nn~w
? w
ww
w
w
Ex. 54. Chiffre II, 1-5, opening chords.
Next to the opening and the closing of a composition, clusters are also
found at the middle of a piece. In Chiffre VI quasi-clusters of ten notes (bars
42-44) appear in the middle section (bars 40-49). The clusters at the middle
(bars 99-100) of Chiffre VII go hand in hand with tempo changes (q = 88,
accelerando, q = 108). Also in Chiffre VII clusters are paired with extreme
tempo changes in bars 14-15 (q = 120, ritenuto, q = 40, accelerando); bars
28-29 (q = 66, subito q = 120).
Both large clusters and tritone-triads paired with “bells up” are often
characterised by a climactic function.
Harmonic Rhythm and Chordal Density

The harmonic rhythm is the fastest in Chiffre VI with an average of more
than five chords per bar.2 This is much higher than all other pieces: around
three chords or almost three per bar in six pieces of the cycle, Chiffre I, IV,
V, VII, VIII and Bild. The lowest harmonic rhythm is less than two chords
per bar in Chiffre II and III.
This concept of the harmonic rhythm is not reflected in the chordal
density or average number of notes per chord.3 In most pieces, the result is
as could be expected: most-used chords are those with the lowest density,
i.e. containing two to six notes, although the quantity of each is slightly
different for each composition. To restrict this to one example: chords

containing four notes are quantitatively in third place in Chiffre I, IV, V, VI
and VII, in fourth place in Chiffre II and VIII, in fifth place in Bild, but in
first place in Chiffre III. Because in Chiffre III the same number of chords
containing four and five notes is found, both in the first place, it certainly
shows a denser harmonic picture as compensation for the slow harmonic
rhythm.
Looking for the exceptions in the ranking of the most used chords,
some surprising information is revealed. In Bild, chords containing seven
sounds are in fourth place and in Chiffre V even in third place, where eight
note chords appear in sixth place. Also striking is the high number of
chords with six and seven notes in Chiffre VIII, in fourth and sixth places
respectively. Table 19 shows the percentage of chordal density. In the left
column, the number of notes per chord is given, from the unison or 1 (of
course not a chord but counted in to give a complete result) to the full
chromatic 12-note cluster.
Number ChI ChII ChIII ChIV Bild ChV ChVI ChVII ChVIII
1 8.8 18.8 9.3 12.6 20.6 7.0 19.1 11.9 20.6
2 26.7 16.6 17.9 17.1 19.7 15.1 21.4 20.8 22.2
3 20.1 12.6 10.0 18.6 14.6 11.8 14.8 10.9 12.0
4 17.0 14.7 19.3 16.8 9.9 10.4 16.4 11.9 10.3
5 13.3 15.0 19.3 14.8 9.4 10.1 9.6 10.5 5.1
6 5.4 9.3 12.0 10.8 8.8 8.3 6.4 12.5 10.3
7 5.6 5.7 6.3 6.0 10.1 10.4 2.5 10.3 6.8
8 2.4 2.2 4.7 2.0 5.4 9.3 5.7 5.0 3.4
9 1.0 3.4 0.7 0.9 0.6 8.1 2.1 3.0 6.0
10 0 0.2 0.7 0.6 0.9 4.1 1.4 1.0 1.7
11 0 0.6 0 0 0 3.7 0.5 2.0 1.7
12 0 0.6 0 0 0 1.4 0.2 0.2 0
Table 19. Chiffre cycle. Chordal density: percentage.
Table 20 shows the order of the results of the percentages of the chordal
density (highest percentage = 1, lowest is 12), as found in Table 19.
Number ChI ChII ChIII ChIV Bild ChV ChVI ChVII ChVIII
1 5 1 6 5 1 9 2 3 2
2 1 2 3 2 2 1 1 1 1
3 2 5 5 1 3 2 4 5 3
4 3 4 1 3 5 3 3 3 4
5 4 3 1 4 6 5 5 6 8
6 6 6 4 6 7 7 6 2 4
7 7 7 7 7 4 3 8 7 6
8 8 9 8 8 8 6 7 8 9
9 9 8 9 9 10 8 9 9 7
10 10 12 9 10 9 10 10 11 10
11 10 10 11 11 11 11 11 10 10
12 12 10 11 11 11 12 12 12 12
Table 20. Chiffre cycle. Chordal density: ranking.
Consonance versus Dissonance

The chordal density as researched above does not give an insight into the
proportion or ratio between consonant and dissonant chords: within dyads
and triads, both possibilities are valid. Table 21 shows the presence of
consonant and dissonant chords in percentage and the ratio between
consonance and dissonance.
ChI ChII ChIII ChIV Bild ChV ChVI ChVII ChVIII

Consonance 29.6 26.3 17.5 21.9 27.9 11.1 29.2 23.6 29.1
Dissonance 70.4 73.7 82.5 78.1 72.1 88.9 70.8 76.4 70.9
Ratio 3:7 1:3 1:4 1:4 3:8 1:9 3:7 1:3 3:7
Table 21. Chiffre cycle. Consonant and dissonant chords: percentage, ratio.4
In Chiffre I, VI and VIII, the proportion between consonant and dissonant

chords is around 3:7, making them the most consonant numbers of the
cycle; the ratio goes up to around 1:3 in Chiffre II and VII and around 1:4 in
Chiffre III and IV. The exceptional ratio 1:9 shows that Chiffre V is definitely
the most dissonant piece of the cycle.
Rudolf Frisius finds an identity between melodic and harmonic
consonant intervals and dyads based on thirds and fifths in Chiffre I (bars
30-41, bars 77-80).5 It is true that consonant dyads are more frequent in
Chiffre I than in the following pieces. In my opinion, there is a specific
reason for the creation of a consonant environment here. The stress in this
passage is more on the introduction of the important generative pole,
which will be defined as “figure 2” (see Ex. 58, p. 245), embedded in a
consonant environment to accord an exceptional status to the introduction
of this generative pole.
Further analysis of the use of consonance leads to the following findings:
- Consonant triads are extremely exceptional.

- Integral consonant phrases or passages are very rare.
- Th
e concentration on consonance in a passage can be based on a
repeated or sustained timbral shifting single tone or dyad, or on a
moment of monophony, a melodic element in a solo or quasi-solo
instrument.
- C
onsonance is linked to a particular event or location: the introduction
of a generative pole (Chiffre I), a chorale-like passage (Chiffre I), the
beginning of a piece (Chiffre II, VI, VII), the middle of the piece
(Chiffre VI), the location of the golden section (0.618) (Chiffre I, IV),
the concluding bars of a piece (Chiffre IV, V, VII, Bild). In Chiffre VII
a new section begins in an astonishingly consonant way (bars 72-92:
based on the consonant dyad eb-bb with added pitch a in bar 79/1).
- C
onsonance can be applied in a symmetrical way: the consonant
dyad c-f opens and concludes the short symmetrical opening phrase
of Chiffre II (bar 1, 3-5, see Ex. 54, p. 221). The consonant triad a-c#-e
opens Chiffre VII in the first bar and concludes it as penultimate
consonant chord, appearing four bars before the end, sustained for
not less than five beats (bars 193/4-194/4). While the whole coda,
started in bar 182, is mostly consonant, this could be considered as
the ending of the piece. Typical of Rihm: it is a false ending, followed
by the real and surprising conclusion with a mixture of consonant
and dissonant elements.
Focal Pitch
My analysis of the focal pitches (see p. 40) does not focus on individual
chords, but large periods where the same focal pitch is distinguishable. In
Table 22, for each composition of the Chiffre cycle the four most important
focal pitches are noted in percentage. These percentages express the ratio of
the number of bars of a focal pitch versus the total number of bars of a
composition. For chords and clusters used as focal pitches, all pitches are
listed individually.
focal focal focal focal focal pitch

Chiffre pitch % pitch % pitch % pitch % aggregate
1 2 3 4
I a 29 b 21 c 17 f 13 c-f-a-b
II f 25 c 21 d 16 a 13 c-d-f-a
III eb 19 a 16 ab 12 e & f# 7 eb-e-f#-ab-a
IV c 20 g 15 b 10 f 9 c-f-g-b
Bild c 20 f# 16 g 15 b 9 c-f#-g-b
V a 25 bb 22 f 13 c 7 c-f-a-bb
VI bb 23 c 15 f# 11 f 10 c-f-f#-bb
VII bb 18 eb 12 f 11 e 10 eb-e-f-bb
VIII c 29 bb 24 f# 26 b 7 c-f#-bb-b
Table 22. Chiffre cycle. Focal pitches.
#bwb w
w #w bw b#w
w bbw
w b#w
w
ww
& w ww nnw
w w w nw
w w
w w ww
w w
w w
w nw
w nww w
I II III IV Bild V VI VII VIII
Ex. 55. Focal pitch aggregates. Naturals are notated in the lower octave; altered
notes in the upper octave.
Although no two pieces of the cycle show the same focal pitch aggregate
(Ex. 55), the prevalence of some pitches is clear: c in seven and f in six of the
nine pieces; f#, a, bb and b, each four times. It is remarkable that focal pitches
a and b are mostly found in the first half of the cycle, while pitch bb only
features in the second half from Chiffre V on, and focal pitches c, f and f# are
equally spread over the whole cycle.
As a tentative conclusion, I can define the “meta focal pitch aggregate”
of the Chiffre cycle. It consists of six pitches with the stress on c and f: c-f-
f#-a-bb-b. In the case of Chiffre I, V, VI and VII the individual focal pitch
aggregate is part of the meta-aggregate.
13
Chiffre Cycle: Resonance
O n pp. 176-177, a typology of resonance was worked out, based on

Chiffre IV and referring to Rihm’s note on Chiffre I, describing the
wind and string instruments as a “resonance space” or Resonanzraum for
the piano (see Ex. 52, p. 214). Resonance can be found in each piece of the
Chiffre cycle, of course not with the same frequency and intensity as in
Chiffre IV. Therefore only Chiffre I, IV and VIII are elaborated on in the
following paragraphs, followed by some thoughts on the issue of sound
space.
Chiffre I: Resonance Space versus Sound Space

As mentioned before, in Chiffre I the “resonance space” is created by the
seven instruments “resonating” the sound of the soloist instrument, the
piano. Rihm wants to combine both Resonanzraum (resonance space, the
term used in his first comment) and Klangraum (sound space, appearing in
the following texts).1 The resonance of the sound of the piano in the other
instruments happens by doubling or synchronised imitation. Doing so,
they create a sound space around, with, or as a background for the piano.
This is different from the “imitation resonance”, as defined in my typology,
where the stress is on decaying “resonance” or fading sound. Here the
imitation is building the sound space.
The manner of doubling the piano by the seven instruments creating
the sound space is elaborated in a whole range of varied possibilities: not
only by doubling pitches, but also by doubling other parameters, such as
dynamics, timbre, articulation and texture. The range covers the following:
- Complete pitch doubling

All piano pitches are doubled by the other instruments. Bar 20: the
227
short piano chord f-f#-a-b launches the same sustained chord in the
other instruments. Bars 22/3-27: the whole part of the piano is
doubled by the others: dyad g#-a, single tone a, cluster g#-bb.
- Embedded pitch doubling
All piano pitches are doubled as part of the setting of the other
instruments, by which also other pitches are added. Bar 11: the cluster
g-b in the piano is part of the quasi-cluster f#-b combined with pitch
e in the other instruments.
- Partial pitch doubling
Only a part of the piano pitches is in common with the other
instruments. In the opening bars of the long solo of the piano, starting
in bar 43, the left hand of the piano is doubled by the double bass.
- Piano as instigator
The piano brings in an element that is not doubled or imitated by the
other instruments, but instigates additions. Bars 4-7: pitch a in the
piano instigates the other instruments to create a cluster, adding a#
and b.
- ully or partly doubled timbre / dynamics / articulation / texture of
F
the piano by the other instruments
Characteristics of the piano are also found in all other participating
instruments. Bar 25/2: together with the complete pitch doubling
described above, the articulation sfffz with accent in the piano is
doubled by the other instruments, varied as sfffz or fff or ff with accent
followed by diminuendo into p or pp. The same full doubling happens
in bars 88-96, at the middle of Chiffre I: homorhythmic and quasi-
homorhythmic doubling of the piano by the other instruments in the
chorale-like phrase meno mosso, non espressivo; same dynamics,
except for a short back and forth between pp and p, which is impossible
on the piano.
It is clear that the doubling of pitches and of other elements can be combined
in the background, when for instance the piano is playing sfz and ff covering
pp in the others. In almost four fifths of Chiffre I the creation of a kind of
sound space or resonance space is found.
13 – Chiffre Cycle: Resonance 229
Chiffre IV: Resonance Research

As demonstrated by my resonance typology, Chiffre IV offers a kind of
encyclopaedic summary of resonance possibilities.2 The whole composition
could be explained as a thorough research into resonance diversity. In his
programme note, Rihm alludes to a metaphoric resonance inspired
terminology:
- G
anz Innenspannung (total inner tension) can refer to resonance, a
tension “inside” the piano.
- H
auch or a sigh of sound.
- Z
eichen, kurz bevor sie verschwinden means “signs, just before they
vanish” or soft, fast fading sounds.
- N
achhal is as clear as possible, meaning “resonance” or “echo”.
As in Chiffre I, space is the subject of the piece: Klangraum is varied as

Tonraum, with the same meaning of sound space.3
In the 115 bars of Chiffre IV I could find no fewer than 132 cases of
resonance and only 15 bars without resonance. The longest passage without
resonance is the piano solo with the repeated series of three chromatically
ascending chords, three times varied and separated by long rests, starting a
few bars after the middle (bar 58) and ending one bar before the location of
the golden section (0.618, bars 60/4-69).
The following examples illustrate how resonance is refined, compared
with the typology of resonance given before.
In Ex. 56 the piano chord g-c-f# (bar 26/1-2) is continued by muted keys
in pedal for two beats, whereafter its resonance in the muted keys is
reinforced by g in the piano left hand (bar 26/4) and f# in all three
instruments (bar 27/1). This is combined with the normal resonance of the
doubled a in the piano in bar 26/1.
#œ^.
Bcl Bb
4
&4 Ó Œ ™ ^
‰ r ≈ R ≈‰ Œ Ó
n œ. 3
sfffz sfffz
^.
nnOœ^. sul pont. pizz. # œ
? 44 R ≈ ‰ Œ Œ ‰™ r ≈ R ≈ ‰ Œ Ó
nœ.
Vc
3
sfffz sfffz sfffz
n œ^.
nœ #+OO ~~
~
4
&4 R ≈ ‰ Œ n nO
# œ^. œ,
#-˙˙ ‰™ n r ≈
Pf sfffz
4 n
& 4 n˙ Œ? ≈Œ Ó
n œ. œ 3
mf v
° sfffz °
Ex. 56. Chiffre IV, 26-27.
An accumulation of resonance combinations is offered in bars 78-86 (Ex.

57). Next to pedal and normal decay, pitch b in the left hand of the piano is
a residue resonance (bars 79/3-80/4) and can theoretically form a dyad
with pitch c (bars 80/4-81/2) because the pedal is pressed before the b-key
is released. In bar 79, both clarinet and cello play a resonance imitation: soft
sound with diminuendo to pp. Muted keys b-c (bars 82/3-86) can only start
to resonate by the sympathetic pitches in the right hand and in the other
instruments in bar 83/2-3. The muted pitches will be extremely soft in bar
84 and 86, at the edge of audibility, reinforced by the trill in the piano and
maybe “obscured” by the noise-like cello. The dotted tie after the trill
suggests added resonance, more a “wish” than reality once the keys are
released without pedal.
‰ nœ ™
- -
& 44 bœ. ≈ nœ œ ™ Ó Ó ∑
Bcl Bb
J n œ. -
nO O ™
≈# œR œ ™ nOœ ™™
ppp
mp pp
-
œ ™™
?4 j ≈Ó ‰ ∑
#n œ. ™™
Vc 4 nœ &
n œ-.
mp
>
p pp ppp
4
&4 Œ Ó ^r ≈ ‰ Œ ≈ ^ ^‰
3
Œ Œ ‰ nœ ˙ Ó
J
# œ. n œ. n œ.
Pf pp
sfffz sfffz sfffz
? 44 #nnœœœ n#˙w , Ó ˙™™ nœ ˙

n˙ , J Ó
ppp
3
°
82
- > > ,
. nœ . œ
& ‰nœ Œ Ó Ó fi
#œ
j
œfi
j ‰ Œ ∑ ∑ ∑
3 sfffz
p fff
^ ^ , nœ^.
vibr. pizz. arco sul p. am Frosch (sehr geräuschhaft)
-
& ‰nœ Œ Ó Ó œ. œ. ‰ Œ ∑ R ≈‰ Œ Ó ∑
3 3 Triller mit fis
#>˙ ™
Ÿ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
p sfffz sfffz sfffz schließen
- ™ ‰ Œ? Œ ≈nnbœœœ. œœœ. œœœ. œœœ^. ^^^
5
& Œ nœ & nœ œ œœœ Œ ∑ Œ ∑

. . ...
#n ~~~~ ~~~~
5
+
-™ +
ppp pp fff pp fff sfffz fff non dim.
? Œ n œ ‰nnOO ~~ ~~
Ex. 57. Chiffre IV, 78-86.
Chiffre VIII: Meta-resonance

To coin “meta-resonance” can be interesting to reveal relations between
Chiffre VIII and the preceding pieces of the cycle, giving the latter the full
status of conclusion of the cycle.
Resonance comparable to Chiffre IV is applied to the piano in three
fermatas, sustained until complete silence. The first one is a simple decay of
a bass note (bar 18), the second one is picked up by the muted horn (bars
27-28), the last one in the final bar is reinforced by the cello by pitch bb but
at the same time disturbed by the battuto noise effect, comparable to the
cello at the end of Ex. 57. Another fermata must be held long and is
sustained by pedal (bar 33).
Resonance comparable to Chiffre IV is not restricted to the fermatas.

Next to decaying long sustained sounds, from the second bar on, different
kinds of resonance are found. To give some examples: reinforced resonance
in the dyad b-c, piano left hand, reinforced by cellos and double bass (bars
2-4); pedal resonance in the quasi-cluster c-g (bar 5); residue and reinforced
resonance combined in one pitch bb lasting after a short dissonant chord
and reinforced by a short dyad (bars 17-18).
More as a metaphor, meta-resonance can indicate recalled elements of

earlier pieces in Chiffre VIII. A good example is found in the opening
unison with timbral shift, followed by the cluster f#-b (bar 2) and by noise-
like sound or “percussion” on the cello: col legno ricochet and col legno
battuto (bars 3-4). This is comparable to:
- O
pening unison of Chiffre VI followed by noise-like sul ponticello on
the cello and Flatterzunge on the bass clarinet.
- Opening consonant chord followed by cluster in Chiffre VII.
- O
pening unison in the piano and quasi-cluster e-bb with c in
Chiffre I, but simultaneously instead of successively.
- O
pening of Chiffre III, with percussion, although in a completely
different atmosphere.
In a similar way, other elements can also easily be explained as meta-

resonance, such as the piano solo and quasi-solo passage (bars 12-18). The
repeated note in the piano solo (bar 34) is clearly recalling, not to say
“resonating”, the opening of Chiffre I. The same goes for the percussion on
the string instruments near the end of the piece (bars 36-38), a strong
reminder of Chiffre III. Not surprising is the fact that the piano is the last
sounding instrument of Chiffre VIII, as was the case in most of the other
pieces: this is the meta-resonance par excellence.
Sound Space
Earlier in this chapter I tried to make a distinction between resonance
space and sound space, referring to both terms applied by Rihm to
Chiffre I. The detailed study of resonance brings other kinds of sound space,
related to resonance, to the surface.
Asking the trio of Chiffre IV to behave as a small orchestra is indeed
creating a sound space by “interpretation” of the score.
The opening of Chiffre V (bars 1-3) is literally the “conquest of the
space”: when the extremely short secco cluster a-db of the piano is repeated,
it explodes in a sustained dissonant chord in the whole orchestra, with a
residue resonance of only one pitch, ab in the piano, reinforced and taken
over by the flute with Flatterzunge and by other instruments in crescendo,
completely covering the decaying piano. This is a genuine example of the
creation of a sound space where resonance space is embedded.
The spatial setting of Chiffre VI, the only piece without piano, consists
of the opposition of the string quartet to the wind quartet (clarinet,
contrabassoon, horn and double bass). The setting on the stage of the
double quartet is defined by Rihm in the preface to the score. Spatial
development is searched for in the alternation of the two quartets and in
shared material: now and then, the interchange of identical material creates
a certain sound space. The middle phrase is a good example of it (bars 40-
49). The speed of alternation of the two groups is also fast at certain
moments: the timbre jumps from strings to wind instruments and back
every one or two bars; the short coda of the piece (bars 77-83) offers a
convincing illustration. The two quartets have different material: mostly
repeated elements in the string quartet, mostly melodic elements in the
wind instruments. The string quartet is a homorhythmic group, the wind
instruments are differentiated with individual parts and some counterpoint.
The alternation of the two quartets is strictly organised: one group “acts”
while the other stays silent, or while the other has sustained background
sounds. There is a culmination with few overlaps after the grand pause of
bar 79.
A visual movement, linking sound and space, is the returning request
for “bells up” (Schalltrichter oben). This happens in Chiffre II, V, VI and VII
(see p. 77).
Still in the 1980s, next to the Chiffre cycle, Klangbeschreibung I asks for
three orchestral groups. In the vocal-instrumental composition Klang
beschreibung II (1986-87) the horn is placed in the centre of the hall amid
the public, and “sound groups” (Klanggruppen) surround the public.4 Later
examples are found in the series of five pieces Musik in memoriam Luigi
Nono, composed in 1990-92. La lugubre gondola / Das Eismeer (1990-92) is
written for two orchestral groups and two pianos; Umfassung (1990) for an
orchestra split in two groups. The setting of Cantus firmus (1990) is spatial:
the first group of fourteen instruments is placed in a half circle with the
piano and the horn in the centre; the second group (without strings) is
sitting on a platform in two rows; the harp must be placed on a level in
between. With the knowledge that Rihm was getting personally acquainted
with Nono no earlier than 1980, and that Rihm had not been very familiar
with Nono’s music previously, it seems obvious to me that the creation of a
sound space and the awareness of a resonance space were original ideas of
Rihm’s. Perhaps later, he was encouraged to explore more spatial possibilities
by his friendship with Nono, as he said in 1985 that Nono had been a
“revered model” (verehrtes Vorbild) for him. But at the moment of the
“germination” of the Chiffre concept at the beginning of the 1980s, Luigi
Nono was still at a certain distance.5
14
Chiffre Cycle: Cyclic Elements
T he aim of this chapter is to find out whether certain elements appear in

different pieces of the Chiffre cycle and therefore function as unifying
factors or help to create musical relations. Some presumptions of these
connections have already been made in the previous chapters, such as the
meta-resonance of earlier pieces in Chiffre VIII, the similarities in the focal
pitch aggregates and Rihm’s own suggestion that Chiffre I could function as
a generative pole.
Cyclic Elements: Typology

The typology of the analysed elements consists of the following topics:
repeated and returning larger and smaller units (passages and figures),
similar elements, similar or comparable concepts and linking elements.
Returning passages:
- R
epeated passage: the classical definition of “repetition”: a passage is
repeated literally without any addition or change.
- O
verwritten passage: in the repetition a passage is enriched with
added new material. This is Rihm’s typical Übermalung or
“overpainting” technique (see p. 105).
- R
epeated single instrumental part: a passage of only one instrument
is repeated literally in a new context with new material for the
surrounding instruments. This could result in a larger overwriting
than the previous category.
235
Similar events and concepts:
- S imilar event: passages with striking similarities in one or more

characteristics, such as rhythm or instrumentation.
- R eturning concept: specific concepts are recalled in a different context
or worked out with different content.
Returning figures: three returning figures, varied and elaborated in very

different ways, can be discerned through the whole Chiffre cycle (see
p. 243). The first figure is characterised by repetition, the second one by its
interval structure and the third one by melodic qualities. They are
introduced as three generative poles at the beginning of the cycle, as the
origin of many generated elements throughout the cycle (see p. 35).
Repeated Passage
- ChII/1-4 = ChVII/10-13
The opening of Chiffre II is characterised by a melodic element in the flute,
unstable tempo and a huge contrast between the fortississimo start and the
pianissimo continuation of the other instruments, with sustained sounds
and pedal resonance in the piano (see Ex. 67, p. 254). This passage returns
literally in Chiffre VII as a kind of “second beginning”, preceded by a series
of chords related to the soft character of the sustained sounds of the
impending repeated passage.
This is the only unchanged passage repeat I could find in the whole
Chiffre cycle, except for a few bars Chiffre I and Nach-Schrift described
below.
Overwritten Passage
- Chiffre I and Nach-Schrift
The most impressive overwriting in the Chiffre cycle is of course Nach-
Schrift based on Chiffre I. Nach-Schrift was written down on a photocopy of
Chiffre I with added staves and inserted moments. It is surprising that only
two bars are preserved without any addition (ChI/10, 24 = ChNS/10, 24).
In all other bars overwriting by added elements is found. There is a
14 – Chiffre Cycle: Cyclic Elements 237
“between” category, where the original is conserved because the overwriting

is restricted to doubling by some of the added instruments (for instance:
ChNS/4, 23), what could be called an “enriched” repetition. Minor
overwritings add only percussion to the existing score (ChNS/49-52). Far-
reaching overwriting consists of polyphonic additions (ChNS/25-30) or
added elaborated virtuoso fast figures (ChNS/7-9, 59-61).
Chiffre I Nach-Schrift
1-74 1-74
76-79 87-90
95-100 91-96
119-151 97-129 with different tempo in 120-129
152-176 148-172 with different tempo
Table 23. Chiffre I and Nach-Schrift. Overwritten passages.
Next to place changes, Table 23 also shows that some passages of Chiffre I
are left out in Nach-Schrift. The “gaps” in Nach-Schrift are filled with new
material: two inserts in bars 74-87 and 129-147, and a new ending in bars
172-175. For the first insert the piano part is loosely based on the great
piano leaps of Chiffre I (bars 157-163), which are further varied and
prolonged. For the second insert no relation with Chiffre I can be detected.
Repeated Single Instrumental Part

- ChI/43/4-63/2 = ChII/17-36/2, piano
The long and hectic soloist piano part in the right hand with sustained
chord accompaniment of Chiffre I (see Ex. 5, p. 79) is repeated in Chiffre II,
except for the following:
- Some different accents in ChI/50ff. compared to ChII/24ff.

ifferent dynamics: straight fff marcatissimo in Chiffre I, while ffff
- D
marcatissimo, non leggiero in Chiffre II. In Chiffre II, dynamics are
more diversified: ChII/22 with contrasting sfffz pp ffff; ChII/27&30
in the repeated moments with subito pp, crescendo, fff.
- A
t two places pitches have been changed: in ChI/54/1 pitch b is
followed by the dyad f-c while in ChII/28/1 the dyad is changed to
d-a; the dyad f#-ab (ChI/54/2) becomes dyad f#-a§ at the corresponding
place (ChII/28/2).
At the start of this passage in Chiffre I the piano is supported by the low
strings. This is overwritten with dense ensemble over several bars in
Chiffre II. In the overwriting, woodwinds and strings alternate in doubling
the right hand of the original in bars 18-22; from then on only in few bars
the doubling is resumed: by strings only in bars 25, 27-28; by strings and
woodwinds in bar 31.
Next to this long passage, all other repeated individual parts are restricted
to very short moments.
- ChI/42 = ChII/16 = ChIII/35-36, piano

In bars 35-36 of Chiffre III, the piano seems to come up with the preparation
of the return of the long right hand soloist moment, already heard in
Chiffre I and II. This time the piano climbs from the repeated pitch g# to
pitch a instead of proceeding immediately to pitch a, as was the case in
Chiffre I. In all three cases the fast repeated cluster g-b follows immediately
in the same setting: a-bb-cb in the left hand with fX-g#-a in the right hand,
wide in extreme tessituras. However, in Chiffre III this is a “false start” and
not the launch of the long piano solo. This proves how the same material or
generative pole can be the germ for a complete different development.
Indeed, the continuation in Chiffre III has nothing in common with the
piano solo, it is blocked by silence and therefore a good example of a
disturbance or Verstörung (see p. 38).
- ChII/1-2/3 = ChVII/28/3-29/4, flute

After the repetition of the whole score of the opening bars of Chiffre II in
Chiffre VII (ChII/1-4 = ChVII/10-13), another return is restricted to the
flute, slightly varied. The piano part shows some similarity, which is not the
case for the other instruments.
These long and short returning passages in the same instrument, two or
three times in two or three different pieces of the cycle, can only be
understood as a tentative indication of cyclic unity.
Cyclic Elements: Similar Event

- ChIII/1-29 = ChV/146-155, tomtoms
Although the passages are of different length, in both cases the two
percussionists play three tomtoms, starting with different pitches on the
first beat and continuing with the lower pitch in fast quintuplets of
semiquavers, also alternating with moments of different pitches. The
tomtom parts are not absolutely identical in this case and dynamics are
different, therefore I call this a similar event and not a repeated single
instrumental part.
- ChV/94ff. = ChVII/26, piano

The long piano solo of Chiffre V, with few percussion interventions, is based
on the repetition of the dyad a-bb. In the course of one bar, this dyad is
recalled in Chiffre VII, accompanied by a sustained chord in the left hand.
- ChI/3-6 = ChVII/159, piano

Even with a different rhythm and restricted to only one bar in Chiffre VII,
the emphasis on the isolated repeated pitch a in the highest register is so
striking that it must be labelled as a recall of the opening of Chiffre I.
Returning Concept
While in the previous categories of elements considered “cyclic” the identity
was complete or almost complete, the next examples will be about more
general qualities and therefore may be less convincing of “cyclic” content. A
number of idioms or musical gestures belonging to Rihm’s vocabulary in
general cannot be omitted here because of the sheer number of their
appearances.
- Solo and soloist passage

As Rihm points out that the piano is the soloist for the whole cycle, the
great number of piano solos (without any accompaniment) and soloist
passages (in concertato style) can be considered as a cyclic factor. Long
piano solos or soloist passages are included in Chiffre I to V and Nach-
Schrift. Piano solo moments are shorter and less pronounced but still
present in Bild, Chiffre VII and VIII. Solos by other instruments are less
numerous: the trumpet in Bild (bar 132ff.), the violins and percussion in
Chiffre II (bar 69ff.), again percussion in Chiffre III (bar 1ff.).
- Final sounds in the piano

Although this aspect could be regarded as a futile detail, in my conviction
it has the value of a unifying cyclic element. The final sounds of each piece
are assigned to the piano, solo in most of the cases (Table 24).
Chiffre Piano Setting

I melodic element d(+3)f(-1)e solo final note
on sustained dyad b-f
II dyad b-f with pedal dyad b-f doubled by
preceded by acciaccatura dyad gb-c violin 1-2
III short single tone f, brüsk solo
IV repeated g, diminuendo  niente solo
Bild dyad ab-d with pedal solo
V short single tone e, secco doubled by clarinet
VII short chord c#-f#-ab-d-c-f added single tone b
pizzicato by violin 1
VIII dyad db-c, völlig verklingen lassen solo
Nach-Schrift bar 172, false ending: identical to doubled by cymbals
Chiffre I: d(+3)f(-1)e antiques
173-175: added coda, final sound in final noise by the
the piano, dyad bb-c bongos
Table 24. Chiffre cycle. Presence of the piano in the final bar of each composition.
As could be expected, there is one exception (beside Chiffre VI without

piano): the end of the cycle is given to percussion after the false ending with
the overwritten piano, identical to Chiffre I.
The concept of the returning piano is reinforced by similar content: three

times a tritone is found as final dyad (Chiffre I, II, Bild); also three times a
very soft sound (Chiffre II, V, VII); twice a fading out (Chiffre IV, VIII);
twice a short aggressive sound (Chiffre III, Bild).
- Final melodic element

In connection with the previous paragraph, it is interesting to look in
greater detail at the final melodic element in each composition of the cycle,
in most cases not given to the piano (Table 25).
Chiffre Bar Final melodic element Setting

I 176 d(+3)f(-1)e piano
II 245-247 d(+2)e(+7)b violin 1-2,
g#(+8)e(+1)f homorhythmic
III 148-152 a(+1)bb(+1)b(-2)a(+3)c(-1)b(-6)f quasi-unison
winds & strings
IV 113-115 e(+1)f(+2)g with long durations cello & piano
a(+1)bb on g, in short notes bass clarinet
Bild 163-169 no melodic element -
V 164-166 bb(+7)f(+11)e horn
VI 82 e with ascending glissando clarinet
on bb(+3)db contrabassoon
VII 191-198 no melodic element -
VIII 37-39 d(-14)c(+17)f bass clarinet
eb(+14)f horn
c doubled by trombone
eb doubled by
contrabassoon
Nach- 172 bar 172: d(+3)f(-1)e piano & cymbales
Schrift antiques
173-175 added ending: no melodic element -
Table 25. Chiffre cycle. Final melodic element in each composition.
Although the final melodic elements are very different, there are some
common characteristics and many returning pitches.
- C
hiffre I and II: melodic element with returning pitches d-e-f in
changed order. In Chiffre II it is intertwined in both violins, with
unison e. Pitch f appears in six endings, pitch e in five.
- C
hiffre I and V: end notes f-e are common, small intervals are replaced
by great ascending leaps. A certain resemblance to the ending of
Chiffre II cannot be denied.
- C
hiffre I, II and VIII: melodic element with returning pitches d and f,
while pitch e has chromatically shifted to eb in Chiffre VIII.
- C
hiffre III and IV: returning melodic element a-bb, pitch f is also
common.
- C
hiffre I, II, IV and V: pitches e and f appear each time.
- C
hiffre IV, V and VI: pitches e and bb return.
- C
hiffre IV and V: pitches f and bb return.
The concentration on a restricted number of pitches in the final melodic

elements may not be overvalued as a cyclic element, but it certainly
contributes to the overall unity of the cycle. Pitches f, e and bb are most
common. One could be tempted to conclude that the classical key of
F major is underlying or intended as metatonality (see p. 161), while the
three notes are tonic, leading note and subdominant. In my opinion they
are no more than common pitches.
It is interesting to add that other similarities can be found, for instance
in Chiffre V, five bars before the end (bars 160-161) the low strings play
pitch a followed by the dyad b-c, a transposition of d-f-e. This is followed by
an 11-note cluster and smaller clusters in the next bar, blocked by a grand
pause (bar 163): another false ending. A step further: the great ascending
leaps at the very end of Chiffre V return twice in the conclusion of
Chiffre VII, as ascending chords in bar 195 and in the final bar 198. In
between (bars 196-197) the piano plays dyads b-c, db-g and c-f#, which
contain the following melodic turn b(+2)db(-1)c, comparable to d-f-e
with the diminution of a semitone in the first interval.
- Creating a state
A last returning concept: in many cases the long solo and soloist passages
are combined with repetition, creating a certain “state” or Zustand. Some
state passages are close to stasis or stand still, because of the continuous
unchanged repetition. Extreme stasis examples are found early in the cycle:
the straight on repetitions in the piano in Chiffre I (bars 3ff.); the repetitions
in the piano (bars 36ff.) and the drum roll (bars 100ff.), both with subtle
dynamic changes in Chiffre II; in the same piece the sustained alternating
violins (bars 71ff.) build an absolute stasis, albeit with a few percussion
interventions; and the concentration on the low tomtom in Chiffre III (bars
1ff.). It becomes obvious that later in the cycle Rihm is bringing in more
variation in the state passages based on repetition, for instance in the
frequent and extreme tempo changes in the repeated piano dyad in
Chiffre V (bars 93ff., see Ex. 34, p. 118). Another evolution is that passages
with repetition become shorter and more varied at the same time,
diminishing the degree of “state”. For example: Chiffre VI, where the middle
phrase (bars 42-49) is dominated by the sustained pitch f# in the horn
combined with fast repetition of the same pitch in the strings. Their
repetition is discontinuous because of inserted rests of unequal duration
and because the unison pitch is abandoned after six beats. Pitch f# is
continued in the horn with isolated accents in the bass clarinet. This short
moment of Zustand is a combination of sustained and repeated pitch with
a lot of timbral variation, no longer assigned to one and the same instrument.
The sketched evolution is confirmed by the change from solo to concertato
piano, described above as first “returning concept”.
Cyclic Elements: Three Figures

On the micro-level a restricted number of three musical figures are
emphasised in different ways in Chiffre I. Since they are returning in the
following pieces of the cycle, they can be categorised as generative poles in
Chiffre I, creating generated elements later in the cycle. More than repeated,
the figures will be varied and elaborated in different ways throughout the
cycle. This elaboration starts already in Chiffre I, immediately following the
presentation of the figures. The longer the more these small germs offer
differentiation in their elaboration in generated elements, leading step by
step to almost complete metamorphosis.
As a generative pole, each of the three figures is strikingly in the
foreground by its dynamics, register and timbre. Each figure can be defined
by one dominant element:
- Figure 1: based on repetition

- Figure 2: based on a striking interval
- Figure 3: based on a melodic content.
To avoid the total conflation of generated elements, great emphasis must

characterise them too, comparable to the generative poles. For instance,
repetition in the background will not be considered as figure 1; figure 2 is
most striking when isolated by rests or in unison.319
- Figure 1
“As basic as possible” could be the description of the generative pole of
figure 1: a repeated pitch in a fast and regular rhythm. This is indeed the
way this generative pole is presented in the piano in the opening bar of
Chiffre I (see Ex. 52, p. 214): absolutely striking because of its extreme
registers, its loud dynamics and positioning the piano as a soloist from the
very beginning. The very fact that this element opens the first piece of the
Chiffre cycle makes it important: this will have its consequences throughout
the cycle.
- Figure 2
The main characteristic of figure 2 in its presentation as a generative pole in
Chiffre I is the ascending leap: a tritone or a major sixth, an augmented
octave, a major ninth or an augmented thirteenth (octave plus tritone) (Ex.
58). To give the ascending interval more emphasis, it is preceded by a small
descending interval in its first presentation as generative pole (bars 31/4-
33/1, wind instruments), followed by its most essential appearance, the
isolated leap in the piano (bar 32/2-4) and by more complex combinations
(bars 35/3-38, piano). As noted in chapter 12 (see p. 224), this figure is
embedded in a consonant surrounding. Next to dynamics and other
possibilities, consonance is certainly another way to put emphasis on an
event.
- Figure 3
Melodic elements are grouped in the third category: melody is the
predominant characteristic, with an unavoidably greater range of variety
than figure 1 and 2.
Because of its melodic character, this figure has a certain duration: it

can last for several beats or bars. It often appears in the low register of wind
instruments and string instruments, which makes the timbre also an
important aspect. However, the combination of the high register with loud
dynamics offers other possibilities.
> ^. ^. ^.
.^ ^.
3
4
&4 n˙˙ Ó nœ ‰ Œ Ó
n nœb œ n œ
Cl
Bn œ bœ p fff
fff ff 3
.^j > > > ^. ^. ^. ^.

œ™ œ œ œ Ó
3
.^ ^.
3
4
œ™ œ œ œ
Tpt
&4 nœ œ nœ ‰ Œ Ó
Trbn œ bœ n œJ œ nœb œ n œ
“>”
3
ff sfz f 3
#‹n œœœ. œœœ.

>
#‹n œœœ. œœœ. ^. n>œ >œ ™ œ. >
^. n œ œ >œ œ^.
bn œœ œ
bœ
4
&4 ≈ ≈ ‰ ‰™ R J ‰ J J Œ
3 3 3
r ≈ ‰ ‰ ™ & n œr
n>œ >œ™ œ. ‰ œ^. Œ
mf fff, marcatissimo
>œ
Pf
? 44 3
≈ nœ œ
J œ >J J
bnb œœ. œ œœ. œ bnb œœ. œ b œ.v b œ
.v
“‘
3
>
“” ”
>
^œ. n œ œ >œ >œ œ^. >-œ . nnn œœœ^
## ^œœ n#“>œœ œœ >œœ >œœ >œ œ œ^.
œ œ œ
bœ bœ n œœ
Œ ‰ ™ #R J ‰ ‰ J ‰ J
34
≈ J J J Œ
&
mp fff nn œ œ^ # œ^ ## œœ^
3 3 3 3
≈ n>œ œJ œ œ j œ Œ ‰ ™nnœœr ‰ #œ ‰ J ‰ Œ
>
f sfffz
> > -
& Ó
bn œœ. b œœ. .
v v
3 3
^ # œ^ “” œœ >œœ n#>œœ ™™n# œœ^ >œœ™™ œœ^ nn>˙˙

37 bb œœ n œ n# œœ n# œœ nn>œœ n œ^.
R ≈ R ≈ J J R ≈ ‰ Œ
&
# œ^ 3 sffffz ^
##œœ^ # œR ? n j ™ n œ.
fff 3 sfffz
œj œ Œ
3
& ≈ R ≈ ‰ œ ‰ nœ R ≈ ‰ Œ
n>œ œ >œ nœ™
“‘ mp sffffz
Ex. 58. Chiffre I, 31-38. The many appearances of figure 2 are indicated by brackets.
By trying to define figure 3 as a generative pole, differences in treatment of

the figures become clear. For figure 1 one basic generative pole is sufficient
for the whole Chiffre cycle: all kinds of repeated sounds can easily be
deducted from it. For figure 2, the ascending interval as its origin is not
strictly defined: the figure is “woven” around the central great leap, which
can change size easily, can become a series of (varied) leaps, can have only
one top note or a repeated one. In fact, no more than the presence of the
ascending interval is defined. Figure 3 in turn goes a step further: even with
restricted interval choice, the characterisation of a melodic figure is not
reducible to one and the same generative pole for the whole Chiffre cycle.
Still, to be considered as a generative pole, the melodic figure must be
striking the ear by being in the foreground, for instance brought by a solo
instrument or in unison. As a consequence, there will be different generative
poles of the third kind, linked to specific pieces within the cycle. The
relations between these melodic generative poles and their generated
elements will be looser than it is the case for figure 1 and 2.
Although figure 3 is not highly present in Chiffre I, there is a striking
example of a melodic generative pole: a large melodic element in wave
form, based on the smallest intervals, quasi-unison in wind instruments
and strings, followed by diminutions in the piano, resulting in a rhythmic
melodic generated element that is subsequently varied (see Ex. 6, p. 80). In
chapter 3 (see p. 79), this was given as an example of the melodic turn or
gruppetto.
Figure 1: Generated Elements

Although figure 1 is mostly characterised by loud dynamics and fast and
regular rhythm in its presentation, in generated elements irregular and
slower rhythms can occur. As simple as the generative pole is, so diversified
will be the generated elements by extension and expansion, ranging from
the repetition of a single tone, through the unison doubled twice or more,
the consonant and dissonant chord, the quasi-cluster to the cluster. Because
repetition as compositional technique was researched in chapter 5,
Repetition, a short overview of the different more technical elaborations or
generated elements of figure 1 in the Chiffre cycle will be sufficient here,
with a few examples.
- R epetition with changing timbre: when different instruments are

involved in a sound repetition, timbre changes occur.
Bild: pitch g is repeated alternating different times between the horn
and the trumpet (bars 85-88), exactly at the middle of the score.
- R epetition as a hocket: when the alternation of instruments evolves
with isolated notes, a hocket effect is reached.
Chiffre I: pitch a in quaver sextuplets exchanged between the piano
and the clarinet, secco (bars 23-24), continued with other rhythms in
clarinet, trumpet and piano (bars 25-26).
- C ulminating repetition: by the addition of instruments, by replacing
a unison repeated pitch by a repeated chord or (quasi) cluster,
repetition can be combined with an increasing sound or provoke a
climax.
Chiffre V: starting with unison pitch bb and ending with the quasi-
cluster d-g with added bb, this climax is further caused by crescendo,
paired with tremolo ffff. It continues by contrast: subito pppp
tremolo with a few instruments (bars 74-77).
- R epeated chord
Chiffre III: the repeated cluster is very impressive when all instruments
participate, as is the case with the quasi-cluster f-g/b-c, marcatissimo
(bar 137).
Repeated consonant chords are also given a role in the Chiffre cycle:
again in Chiffre III, the piano repetition is concentrated on the
consonant dyad eb-ab, although starting with an added g and replaced
after seven bars by the tritone eb-a§ (bars 58-82).
The longest cluster passage, based on the smallest cluster possible, the
dyad a-bb is found in the piano in Chiffre V (bars 83-118) with
irregularities due to the piled tempo changes, while the semiquaver
rhythm is held constantly. This repetition starts just at the middle of
the piece.
- Signal-like repetition
From Bild and Chiffre V on, the repeated note more and more takes
the form of a short “signal” in a particular instrument and becomes a
loud overwhelming figure.
One could say that the cycle opens and closes with a signal: the short
moment of piano repetition in Chiffre I (bar 1) and the full bar of the
piano repetition solo just before the end of Chiffre VIII (bars 34),
followed by the imitation of percussion repetition on the bodies of the
string instruments, the mirror of the col legno battuto of the
“percussion” strings in Chiffre I (bar 11): a kind of cyclic closing
recalling how it all began.
This last example can take the character of a signal as it is found
several times in the second half of the cycle, mostly reserved for the
horn: in Chiffre VII (bars 161-163; 168-170, Ex. 59), in Chiffre VI (bar
26, bcl; 29-30, hn; 66, hn), in Chiffre V (bar 30) and in Bild, where the
horn shares this signal with the trumpet (bars 85-88, mentioned
above as repetition with changing timbre). It was formerly up to the
soloist of Bild, the trumpet, to introduce the signal (bars 56-57, 60-
61). Apparently, this kind of signal or short repeated element does not
appear earlier in the cycle in brass instruments. Nevertheless, one
could say without doubt that its generative pole lies in the very first
notes of the piano, opening Chiffre I. Later in Chiffre I, the clarinet is
the first to launch this typical signal during the long soloist passage of
the piano, ff marcato in the low register (bars 56-58).
Repeated notes are mostly in a fast pulsating rhythm, such as the part
of the tomtoms in the first section of Chiffre III (bars 1-41). The same
goes for Bild, where repetition starts also in the percussion and is
taken over by the other instruments until the moment of the long
trumpet solo, situated near the end of the piece (bars 131ff.). Short
passages of a repeated pitch spread over a larger part of a score have a
certain obsessive effect, such as the repeated pitch d in the viola in
Chiffre VI, each time over a couple of beats (bar 3ff.), expanded to
repeated chords in all strings at certain moments (bars 14-16) until
repetition by the whole string quartet in the final bars (bar 77, 79, 81).
4 n>œ œ™ œ^ œ^ œ^ nœ^ œ^ œ^ >œ œ™ œ^ œ^ œ^ œ^ ‰ œ^ œ^ œ^ ‰ œ >œ >œ. ≈ ‰

Hn &4 Œ ‰ J R R n˙
fff 3 3 3 3 3
sfffz p sfffz pp
Ex. 59. Chiffre VII, 161-163.

- Merging figure 1 with figure 3

When repeated notes are replaced by the smallest intervals, figure 1
merges easily with the fast appearance of figure 3. An example is
found in Chiffre IV: the bass clarinet encircles pitch f with the smallest
intervals and continues with the repeated f (Ex. 60).
& 4 r ≈ r ≈ r ≈≈ ™
Bcl Bb
4 3 3 3
^. ^3. ^. ^. ^3. ^. 3 3 ≈Ó
œ n œ n œ. # œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ.
.
sffz sffz p f ff p
Ex. 60. Chiffre IV, 37.
Figure 2: Generated Elements

If the great ascending interval is depicted as the core element in the
generative pole of figure 2, it is immediately clear that a great diversity of
elaboration is possible. In fact, the mere presentation of the generative pole
in Chiffre I implies a range of generated elements “at the same time” (see Ex.
58, p. 245). Reducing the generative pole to its essence, the ascending
interval appears as such in the piano in bar 33, with repeated top note. In
the next bars the ascending interval returns several times, isolated or with
a repeated top note (bars 34-35), also in a series of dyads with great
ascending and descending leaps, with repetition of the last dyad (bars 35-
36). This passage ends with alternating dyads with more variety instead of
repetition and with a double leap in contrary movement, ascending in the
left hand and descending in the right hand (bar 38). This kind of generated
element returns later in the cycle. An extreme example is the three times
repeated enormous ascending leap of the dyads in both hands of the piano
in Chiffre VII (bars 87-88), homorhythmically eb(+31)bb and a(+30)eb.
Preserving the great interval as the core element, an idea of the diversity of
generated elements is given by the following list.
- F
igure 2 reduced to its essence
The ascending interval eb(+6)b, unison ffff in all instruments in a fast
rhythm, isolated by rests before and after, is found in Chiffre II (bar
135). The isolated interval returns in Chiffre IV in the piano as an

ascending leap of chords with short-long rhythm (bars 9-10), also
descending in long-short with fast rhythm in the three instruments
(bars 35). In Chiffre V, horn, trumpet and trombone in quasi-unison
play a soft metamorphosis of figure 2: two longer notes, descending
perfect fifth in ppp (bars 139-140).
- F
igure 2 with inserted interval
In this case, the interval exists of two sustained notes with a very short
inserted note, breaking the great leap.
Chiffre III: ascending leap with inserted note in horn and bass
trumpet; contrary motion and a pure leap in the trombone (Ex. 61).
This generated element is also found in Bild in contrary motion (bars
12-13).
b>˙ ™ n>œ. b>œ ˙ ˙ U

meno mosso, pesante +
Hn
? 44 Œ œ™ Ó
fff sfffz fff
con sord.
U
b˙ ™ œ™
4
&4 Œ Ó
nœ. b>œ ˙ ˙
‹
Bass tpt
> >
b>˙ ™
? 44 Œ
fff sfffz fff
U
Trbn
œ™ j
fff n œ. ˙ ˙ n˙
> >
sfffz fff sffz p fff
Ex. 61. Chiffre III, 51-53.
- F
igure 2 in contrary motion
Simultaneous leaps in contrary motion (Ex. 61).
Contrary motion in series is found in Chiffre II (Ex. 62).
n>œ œ œ n>œ n>œ n>œ

4
&4 Œ ‰ J
r
J nœ œ ≈ ‰ J nœ ‰ J nœ Œ nœ Ó J nœ œj ‰ U
Œ Œ
>- >- >
Tpt
>
> >-œ
3
#>œ œ #>œ œ
sfffz
# -œ #>œ
3 3 sfffz pp fff
n>œ n>œ > n>œ J ‰ U

Trbn
?4 Ó
4 Œ J R ≈‰ J ‰ nJœ Œ Ó J Œ Œ
3 3 3
fff sfffz pp fff
Ex. 62. Chiffre II, 53-56.

- Figure 2 in series
Chiffre II: a series of repeated great leaps (Ex. 62).
Chiffre VI: more variety is offered by a series of different descending
leaps in fast rhythm and separated by short rests (Ex. 63).
> ^
3
n>œ ^ n>œ ^ nœ
3
4
&4 ‰ n>œ nœ bœ. ‰ bœ ≈ ≈
? #œ. ‰ ‰ .
nœ ≈ > ≈
> nœ. n œ.
Hn
3 3 v
sfffz sfffz sfffz sfffz sfffz
Ex. 63. Chiffre VI, 63.
- F
igure 2 in symmetry
The ascending leap followed by the same interval descending creates
symmetry within figure 2. This appears often, most strikingly in Bild.
To give some examples:
- Bar 88/4: c(+11)b(-11)c in the right hand of the piano, in
homorhythm with the left hand: f#(+3/-8)dyad a-bb(-3/+8)f#.
- Bar 90/1: bb(-7)eb(+7)bb homorhythmically by trumpet and piano.
- Bars 100/3-103/4: f(-6)b(+5)e(-5)b(+6)f, symmetrical double leap
in the double bass.
- Bars 113/1-114/1: c#(+6)g(-6)c#(+10)b(-10)c#(+5/6)dyad f#-g
(-5/0) dyad c#-g(-5/0) c#, a series of symmetrical leaps in the viola,
partly doubled by cello and double bass. The same leaps are
repeated and varied immediately afterwards (bar 115).
- Bars 118-121: f#(-1)f(+4)a(-4)f(+1)f# in sustained notes in the
horn.
- Bars 127-128: e(+1)f(+4)a(-4)f(-1)e by the horn with Flatterzunge.
- Merging figure 2 with figure 1

One could say that from its first presentation (see Ex. 58, p. 245), the
repetition of the top note of figure 2 causes a merger between figures
1 and 2. This is often the case, for instance in Chiffre IV, expanded
with irregular repetitions (bars 39-42).
- M
erging figure 2 with figure 3
In an analogous manner figure 2 can be prolonged with a melodic
element, with a content similar to the generative pole of figure 3, as
shown in Ex. 6. While this happens in the piano already in bars 77-80
of Chiffre I, it must be seen as an announcement of figure 3 because of
the scarcely extended wave form b(+3)d(-1)c#(-4)a(+3)c§ (Ex. 64).
? 44 Œ ∑ ∑
Bcl bœv nœ œ.
> v
“” > > n œ^ ^
# œ n œ^ n>œ ™™ ^. n>œ ™ >œ™ œ^ n œ^ #>œ n>œ n>œ œ ^. n>œ œ >œ >œ œ œ^.
fff, marc.
4 nnœœ^. n œ œ nnœœ bnœœ J

&4 R
fff, marcatissimo 3 3 3
sfffz fff sfffz
nœ œ œ œ œ œ^.
> >
Pf
? 44
#˙ ˙ #˙ œ™ & œ > J
bn œ.
#>˙ ˙ #>˙ œ™ v
3 3
sfffz
sffz accel. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ex. 64. Chiffre I, 77-79.
nother way of merging the two figures: a series of ascending

A
movements starts time after time with an ascending interval followed
by a few faster melodic steps. The ascending direction is accentuated
by unison: starting in the low register with the lower instruments and
climbing to the high register with the highest instruments. The first
appearance of this extremely merged or metamorphosed figure is
found in Chiffre I (bars 60-61) from cellos and trombone to clarinet,
also in bars 99 and 121-123 (Ex. 65).
n œ^ ^ ^ # œ^ n œ^ # œ^ n œ^ ^n œ^ n œ^
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ nœ^ nœ^ ^ ^ nœ^ nœ^n œ^ œ^ nœ bœ
Bcl
? 44 Ó Œ bœbœnœnœ bœbœnœ bœbœ ≈ ≈ nœ ≈Ó
ff
Ex. 65. Chiffre I, 121-123. Unison bcl, bn, trbn con sordino, vc1-2 (vc 2 replaces the
two semiquaver rests by c-c#, doubled by the piano).
Figure 3: Generative Poles and Generated Elements

Before searching for generated elements from the melodic generative pole,
it must be said that there are melodic elements which do not function as a
generative pole because they appear only once, confirming Rihm’s
predilection for single events. To give some examples:
- A
t the beginning of the short section (bars 231-248) concluding
Chiffre II, introduced by the flute, the English horn plays a melodic
element based on thirds and ending with a descending seventh, partly
in parallel fifths with the bass clarinet and the bassoon. In my opinion,
this is a kind of concluding melodic element or figure 3, not
functioning as a generative pole but fitting well in Rihm’s aesthetic, as
he likes a surprising conclusion, in contradiction to what happened
earlier (Ex. 66). Moreover, by leaving the final pitch f out of
consideration, perfect symmetry is revealed.
4 j ‰ Œ Ó
n-˙ b˙- >
nœ- nœ
3 3
Fl
Eh & 4 nw nœw- ˙
p pp nw
>
sfz sfz pp
Ex. 66. Chiffre II, 231-234 (see Ex. 19, p. 87).
- A
lthough the dance-like figure 3 by the English horn (bars 98-103) in
Chiffre III is heard twice as part of a repeated section, it is not treated
as a generative pole.
As said, figure 3 is not highly present in Chiffre I. Concentrating on

Chiffre II for generative poles and generated elements is more fruitful.
Some clear and quite different examples can be found.
- Generated elements “at distance”

The opening melodic element of the flute in Chiffre II (Ex. 67) is
treated as a generative pole; a generated element is not found earlier
than at the beginning of Chiffre VII (ChII/1-4 = ChVII/10-13,
previously mentioned in this chapter in the paragraphs Repeated

Passage and Repeated Single Instrumental Part, pp. 236-237).
nœ^. n>-œ
q = 120
>œ- #œ. œ-
rit.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
n˙ w
#œ nœ. nœ. bœ ™
4
&4 J
3
Fl J J #œ œ
fff 3 >- 3
Ex. 67. Chiffre II, 1-3, returning in Chiffre VII, 10-12.
In this case, generated elements stay restricted to Chiffre VII and
mostly reserved to the flute. Embedded at the centre of an expanded
melodic element, this figure reappears a few bars later with a varied
rhythm and without its original final note (Ex. 68, bars 28/3-29/4).
But there is more: the striking descending intervals just before this
generated element in the flute (bars 26/4-28/3) are imitated in the
bass trumpet, oboe, trumpet and clarinet (bars 27-28), combining
chromatically neighbouring pitches of the original. Afterwards, until
bar 35, the flute continues with great leaps, again imitated by the oboe
(bars 30-31); both instruments conclude with falls in imitation.
Another interesting aspect of the melodic element in the oboe
(bars 30/3-32/4) is the quasi-symmetry with the sustained f# as pivot
note. The symmetry is somewhat obscured by the absence of pitch eb
as penultimate note, by the added short f§ after the sustained f# and by
the low register of the endnote bb. The aspect of symmetry will be
developed further in the next chapter.
- M
etamorphosed generated element
At other moments in Chiffre VII, the flute plays generated elements
that are further removed from the original. In Ex. 69 for instance,
compared to Ex. 67, a number of mutations are found: second note b
instead of c, fourth note b instead of f#, fifth note g# instead of g, the
penultimate eb is omitted. While two of the three mutations are
chromatic shifts, the original is still recognisable. However, the
completely different rhythm with long notes at the beginning and
short notes at the end covers the similarities. This is indeed an
example where a generated element is “disguised” by full
metamorphosis, but where a closer look still reveals undeniable links
with the original generative pole. On the other hand, the changes
cause a certain symmetry in this generated element: the disturbing
note is g# (if replaced by c#, the symmetry would be perfect, and the
original yet again a step further away).
nœ ™
f
>
b >-œ
Fl
n>œ. n>œ ™ ˙
nœ œ 3 >
nœ œ nœ œ
4
&4
J
Œ nn˙˙ #œ ‰v
Fl
Cl n-œ
p 3 > ppp Cl
n œ b œ œJ sfz
>
ppp 3 pp
b˙
nnœœ œœ Ó
& 44 nœœ ˙ ™™
Œ˙ Ó
Ob
3 Tpt
Ob Tpt
Tpt Tpt b˙ pp nœ œJ ‰
Btpt Btpt
pp bœ œ
29
subito q = 120
nUœ™ ˙q = 66 n>œ. #œ
#œ. œ-
#œ œ . . bœ bœ ™ v. n œ œ # œ œv ≈ ‰
J ‰ ‰ J
3 3
Fl & J nœnœ n œ j n
p 3 > f >. - sfzv sfz pp mp pp
œ™
bU #œ
3
œ nœ
bœ ™ œ bœ- ™
n œj
Ob & ∑ Ó ‰ J
pp
<#> ˙ #˙ œ n œ^
accel.
nœ^
32 marc.
bœ^ bœ^ nœ^ Œ

3
& nœ
n œ v bœv bœv J
v
<#> ˙
^
ff
# œ n œ.
J nœv. bœ
3
& ∑
v. b œ.
v
3
f
p
Ex. 68. Chiffre VII, 26-33. Flute, bars 28-30: core of the generated element
(bracketed).
ord. n >
-˙
. nœ ™ œ
3 3 3
ææ
#˙ n>œ nœ b œ^.
Flzg. q = 66
ææ æ æ
nœ
4 J
ord.
#˙
ææ
Fl &4 R n˙ Œ
p ppp pp mf pp (non vibr.)
Ex. 69. Chiffre VII, 20-22. Mutations indicated by arrows.

- A
t the edge of metamorphosis
Starting again from Chiffre II, the passage beginning at the golden
section, bar 153, is marked by triple repetition of a new generative
pole, immediately followed by generated elements (Ex. 70).
q = 80
- - - - 3 - - - - -
5
&4 Œ nœ b œ
n œ b œ nnœœ nnœ bb˙
œ ˙ œ™
nnœ™ bœœ nnœœ bœ™
Tpt
Ob-Hn b b œ™
- - - - - - - -
f, ben articolato
>- >- ^. >. >.
3
-j - -3 - - - >-
bœœ ™
^.
& nnœ-œ ™™
155
nœœ
bœœ nœ nœ bœ nnœœ b ™
nœfi œœ nœœ n nœ œ
# œœ n œ œ
j
nÆœJ bJ nœ nœ bœ n n
v - -. - - - > > >
v. >
.
3
Ex. 70. Chiffre II, 153-156. Horn: + (see Ex. 3, p. 78).
In the opening section of Chiffre III (Ex. 71) the obsessive tomtom
percussion is interrupted by a melodic element in parallel motion,
generated from Chiffre II, from the previous example.
sfffz ^.j sfffz

™ nœfi - n-˙ - bœ n>œ
> > > >- - >- > -j più>-fff
fff sempre
j3
4 Ó
& 4 Œ n˙ nœ nœ œ nœ ™ bœ ™ œ #œœ™ nœ. bœ œ w ˙™ Œ
œ nœ ™ bœ ™ v >-
Pf
n˙ bœ nœ œ
> nœ > nœ > >
Bcl
> > > > v.

^.
sfffz
> >> >
sffz pp sfffz fff sempre sfffz
> >
? 44 Œ n>˙ n>œ #˙ nœ nœ #œ œ nœ ™ nœ ™
j > bœj
œ bœ ™
Ó™ Œ
œ nœ ™ nœ ™ œJ b œ ™ b Jœ n œ œ w ˙™
Bn
nœ #˙ nœ nœ#œ
Pf
>- >- >- >- > - >- > - >- più fff. v >-
“‘ 3
Ex. 71. Chiffre III, 17-22.
t first sight, one can oppose this statement, denying that the passage
A
in Chiffre III is a generated element. In my opinion, there are enough
arguments to claim that that is indeed a generated element of
Chiffre II. In the trumpet part in Chiffre II, the generative pole uses all
chromatic steps between g and b. In the generated element in
Chiffre III, the ambitus of the upper part is enlarged with a semitone:
f# to b: g-a-g-bb-g-a-g-ab-f_#-b-ab. To the original beginning a-bb-g-a-

ab-a-bb-g-ab, pitch g is added three times (italic); at the end two
pitches are chromatically shifted and inverted, bb-g becomes f#-b
(underlined).
To analyse Rihm’s music it is indeed necessary to accept such distant

resemblances as belonging to the same root. In the paragraphs above, in the
elaboration of figures 1-3, I mentioned “merged figures”: at certain
moments the individual figures are no longer clearly distinguishable. The
intrinsic qualities of Rihm’s music urge the analyst to be satisfied with open
definitions in many cases, such as the three figure-categories. On the one
hand, it is not possible to install clear and definite demarcations to the
elaborations of the figures; on the other hand, many elements in the Chiffre
cycle seem related to the figures, but hard proof is lacking beyond the “grip-
ability” of the analyst.
15
Chiffre Cycle: Symmetry
I n the previous chapter regarding the treatment of figures 2 and 3, some

symmetrical melodic elements on a small scale were already mentioned
(examples in Bild of figure 2 in symmetry; figure 3 in symmetry in Ex. 66,
Ex. 68, Ex. 69). In this chapter I will show how symmetrical elements
appear in all parameters, much more than presumed. Because of its
ubiquity, symmetry must be considered as yet another cyclic element. Even
if some of the symmetrical elements mentioned here are not immediately
perceptible, it is clear to me that they contribute “subcutaneously” to the
cyclic unity.
Symmetry is found from the very beginning of the cycle. In Chiffre I
(bars 12-14), all instruments except for the piano have a double leap,
ascending-descending, ending on the starting pitch, both sustained,
homorhythmically with a short middle note (for instance: g(+6)c#(-6)g in
the clarinet). A few bars later (bars 17-19), an extended symmetrical
element is played by clarinet and bassoon (clarinet: a#(+25)b(-24)b(+24)
b(-25)a#). In turn the piano plays a similar symmetrical element in both
hands in bars 26-27. The same kind of symmetry is recalled at the end of
the cycle: in Chiffre VIII, five bars before the end (bar 35), the alternating
cellos create a descending-ascending symmetrical element. These examples
show that short symmetrical elements are appearing throughout the cycle.
In the next paragraphs some longer symmetrical elements are researched.
Melodic Symmetry
The generative pole of figure 3 (see Ex. 6, p. 80, and p. 78). becomes a
symmetrical gruppetto by mutation of the first note (a instead of g): a-bb-a-
g-a. In the same way replacing pitch e by f in the following diminution, the
result of the fast figure f-g-f-e-f is also symmetrical. The prolonged gruppetto
becomes a melodic element with larger rhythm later in the Chiffre cycle, in
259
Chiffre II and III (see Ex. 70, p. 256 and Ex. 71, p. 256). Both cases are
expanded generated elements, retaining even the slightly imperfect
symmetry of the generative pole. Hard evidence is given by the bass clarinet
in Chiffre III, where the perfect turn is suddenly in the foreground, in fast
rhythm c#-d-c#-b#-c#, in polyphony with the dance-like melodic element in
the English horn (bars 98-103; with the turn in bar 101/2-3). At different
places the Chiffre cycle shows symmetrical, quasi or partly hidden
symmetrical and mirrored melodic elements, related to figure 3, as
demonstrated above in Ex. 66 and Ex. 68.
Symmetrical elements can be obfuscated by one different note, such as
the endnote, by inserted notes between the two symmetrical members, by
pitch permutation or place change in the members or by asymmetrical
rhythm. A more “compound” example of quasi-symmetrical elements,
with great leaps recalling the earlier discussed fragments of Chiffre VII (see
Ex. 68, p. 255, and Ex. 69, p. 255) is found in the same piece, again in the
flute (Ex. 72). I mention it because it could also be considered as a distant
generated element of the generative pole of figure 3, discussed in Ex. 67. By
a fourth transposition, combining perfect, diminished and augmented
fourths, one can easily relate this example to the original generative pole,
with tolerance to the added pitch a in bar 104/4, between f and f# (originally
c and c#). The result is the repetition of the melodic element (bracketed),
almost symmetrical, between two disturbing pitches, c and eb.
n>œ #>œ > >œ n>œ #>œ non dim.

ord.
Flzg. n >
b œ ™ œ™ > b >œ ™ b w n w-
> œ n
ææJ ææ
b˙ œ™ b œ ˙ b œ œ b ˙ .^
3
4 Ó fi
bœ j
> J fij
Fl &4 j
n œ œ bœv.
nœ
>
3
F F
pp (non vibr.) ffff sfffz sfffz sfffz sub. pp
Ex. 72. Chiffre VII, 104-109. The boxed passage is the generated element or the
transposed generative pole. The bracketed passage is returning. The
disturbing pitches are indicated by arrows.
In the example above, symmetry of the members is combined with

repetition. With short cells, this happens also in other pieces of the Chiffre
cycle. At the place of the golden section in Chiffre I, bars 105-110 (Ex. 73),
the hectic movement is released for a slow moment with soft dynamics.
15 – Chiffre Cycle: Symmetry 261
Before the full bar rest, the piano plays f(-4)db(-2)cb, which is at the same
time quasi-mirrored and quasi-repeated in the double bass db(-2)b(+5)f#
(bars 108-109, pizzicato and sustained) and again by the piano left hand in
quavers: db followed by the dyad b-f. The exchange of db and b results in the
combination of repetition and symmetrical mirror, while the regular pitch
f appears in the piano just before the altered f# of the double bass in bar 110.
°? ritardando
q = 40 q = 60 pizz. arco
‹ nw- #˙ ™
Db ∑ ∑ ∑ Œ Œ Œ
b œ. n œ.
pp n œj ‰ (pp)
? # -œ
¢
∑ ∑ Œ Ó
b œ nn -œœ
“‘
Pf
bw bw
nw
p
Ex. 73. Chiffre I, 105-110.
A last example: a similar combination of symmetry with even more accent

on immediate repetition is found in Chiffre VII (Ex. 74). Both members
before and after pitch b consist of the repetition of four notes, with exchange
of the first and the second note and enlarged rhythm.
n œ >œ
b>œ ™ n˙ ™
4
& 4 # œ n>œ n>œ nœfi
.j 3
nœ. # œ n>œ œ bœ œ w
>- >-.
“‘
Cl
> >
sffz p f sffz p sffz p
Ex. 74. Chiffre VII, 141-144. Quasi-symmetrical members indicated by brackets.
Rhythmic Symmetry
On a micro-level comparable to melodic symmetry, symmetrical durational
series can be found. Needless to say, this is evident for elaborations of figure
1, restricted to constant pulsating rhythm; here also a disturbing element
can break the perfect symmetry. In Chiffre I the hocket passage on pitch a
(bars 22-27) concludes with a quasi-symmetrical rhythmic repetition in
the trumpet (Ex. 75).
4
&4 Œ ≈ ≈
œ. œ- œ. œ. œ ™ n ˙
Tpt
n œ- œ. œ- œ œ- œ. œ. œ.
mp, marc.
v v > >
sffz p sffz p sffz p f
Ex. 75. Chiffre I, 26-27. Bracketed: non-symmetrical moment.
Examples of the following kind can be found several times. In Bild, the
trumpet and trombone play a figure of three notes in parallel fifths (Ex. 76).
The quasi-symmetry of the pitches is reflected in an almost rhythmic
symmetry with a slightly longer endnote.
b >œ ™ n>œ n œ -œ
Tpt
4
&4 Ó ‰ J Ó
3
‰ bœ ™
>
sffz p sfffz fff
?4 Ó > nœ nœ -œ Ó
Trbn 4 J
3
sffz p sfffz fff
Ex. 76. Bild, 47-48.
Time Signature Symmetry

A symmetrical bow in time signature changes per bar is found in Chiffre III
(bars 83-87): 5/4  4/4  3/4  4/4  5/4. The whole of Chiffre VIII is
marked by symmetry in the time signature changes, with only two short
insertions: 4/4  5/4  4/4  3/4  4/4  5/4  4/4  3/4  (7/8, 1 bar) 
4/4  (2/4, 2 bars)  4/4 (see p. 282).
Harmonic Symmetry
Symmetry is found not just in melodic and rhythmic elements. The
generative pole, described above as figure 3 in Chiffre II (see Ex. 67, p. 254)
and developed in Chiffre VII, is accompanied by symmetrically-placed
chords (ChII/1-5 and ChVII/10-15, see Ex. 54, p. 221).
15 – Chiffre Cycle: Symmetry 263
Chiffre III starts analogously to Chiffre II, with a bow chord sequence in
the opening bars, this time at a distance because of the tomtoms solo: dyad
b-c (bar 1), small cluster c-d (bar 6) and again dyad b-c (bar 7).
Total Symmetry
Another example of a symmetrical chordal bow is found in Chiffre II (bar
170) in all instruments, doubling the piano. The series starts with chord
b-c-d-f-ab-a, ascending twice chromatically in parallel motion and followed
by two chromatic descending steps of the upper triad, while the lower triad
descends diatonically (Ex. 77). Moreover, other parameters are
symmetrically developed: rhythm, dynamics and articulation. This
symmetrical bar closes the long passage concentrated on figure 3, which
started at the place of the golden section, fully based on parallelism and
small intervals (bar 153, see Ex. 70, p. 256).
q = 120
4 nn>œœ. ##œœ nn>œœ ##œœ nn>œœ.

& 4 œJ
b nœ bœ nœ bœ
J
mp fff mp
4
& 4 n n œœj j
n œœœ œœ œœœ
n œ.
> >œ œœ. œ
>
Ex. 77. Chiffre II, 170.
In Chiffre V, bars 21-22, the clarinet and piano have a symmetrical rhythm:
the alternation of a quaver and a crotchet in a septuplet (twice e q e q e)
with staccato crotchets combined with the regular alternation of dyads db-b
and eb-c. This symmetry returns in a varied way in bar 24 and again in bars
29-30, when the piano, tubular bells and plate bells repeat the c-d dyad in
another symmetrical rhythm: e q q q e, disturbed by an acciaccatura on
the third note; articulations and dynamics are symmetrically elaborated.
Symmetrical Placing
Also belonging to the characteristic of symmetry, although from a
completely different viewpoint, is the symmetrical placing of similar events
at distance in a score. It is superfluous to add that “hiding” techniques,
mutation and metamorphosis of the limbs can obscure the clear symmetry.
This can be illustrated with an example from Bild: the trumpet solo (bars
131-146) ends at 23 bars from the end (final bar: 169) and is placed
symmetrically towards a series of solo passages at the beginning of the
piece, starting in bar 22 with the repeated note in the piano solo (bars 22-
28), followed by the snare drums solo on the background of a ppp non
vibrato sustained chord in the strings (bars 29-34) and concluded by the
double bass (bars 35-38). Only the “solo” characteristic is common, clearly
at symmetrical locations in the score.
More examples of symmetrical placing will be analysed in the next
chapter.
16
Chiffre Cycle: Proportions
B efore I analyse proportions in the Chiffre cycle, certain characteristics

concerning objective data, tempo and time signature must be given a
closer look (see also p. 171).
Tempo Indications
For tempo indications over longer periods within the Chiffre cycle, Rihm
makes almost exclusive use of strict metronome numbers while Italian or
other conventional (less exact) tempo terms, such as allegro or adagio,
remain absent. There is one exception in Italian: the prestissimo passage in
Chiffre III and another exception in German: So rasch wie möglich in Nach-
Schrift. Another kind of exception is indications with a certain flexibility:
“circa” and “if possible” are sometimes added to metronome marks, next to
the frequent demand for slightly faster or slower tempi, meno mosso and
più mosso (with variants, with or without suggestion by a “circa” metronome
figure).
For accelerations and decelerations, where the course or speed of the
tempo change cannot be given by exact metronome marks, Rihm frequently
combines the gradual change indication with a metronome mark to be
reached. Sometimes this target tempo must be left immediately; on other
occasions, it is sustained temporarily and left after one or a few bars, or it is
continued for a longer passage.
More affect loaded Italian terminology, such as inquieto, agitato and
pesante, only appears in Chiffre I, II and III. Even the subtle indications
meno mosso and più mosso are fewer in number from Chiffre IV on and
more than once accompanied by a metronome mark in the second half of
the cycle.
Through the whole cycle, the unit or beat in metronome marks is always
the crotchet, with – how could it be otherwise – one exception: in Chiffre V
265
the piano solo (bars 93-118) is marked by extreme tempo changes including
the quaver and semiquaver as units, although restricted to only six bars and
two tempi: e = 92, x = 60.
Tempo Changes
In several compositions a constant tempo is found.
hiffre VI: q = 60, except for one bar of ritenuto (bar 61).
- C
- C hiffre VIII: q = 40, except for one bar q = 60 (bar 35).
- The constant tempo in Bild (q = 80) shifts to più mosso (from bar 102
until the end), which is the only tempo change indication in the score.
In other compositions there are frequent tempo changes. Omitting the

slight changes (such as più mosso and meno mosso), there are up to nine
different tempi in Chiffre III and VII and eight in Chiffre V.
The slowest composition of the whole cycle is Chiffre VIII: constantly
q = 40 (except for one bar q = 60). A restriction to slower tempo categories
is found in Chiffre IV: q = 40, 44, and 52 in the main.
The fastest tempi appear in Chiffre III, up to q = 120 and 160, next to
prestissimo. As mentioned, So rasch wie möglich is used in Nach-Schrift.
All compositions have different tempo combinations, while three tempi
return in most pieces of the cycle: q = 60, q = 80 and q = 40.
However, these numbers of appearances do not correspond with the

predominance of tempo duration, expressed by the total number of bars in
a tempo:
bsolute predominance of one tempo in Chiffre VI with 99% (of all

- A
bars) of q = 60, in Chiffre VIII with 97% of q = 40 and in Chiffre IV
with 90% of q = 52.
- I n Chiffre I, II, Bild and Nach-Schrift, q = 80 is predominant with 58,
61, 99 and 77% of all bars, respectively.
It never seems to have been Rihm’s intention to work out tempo changes in
a purely mathematical way, whether by unifying rhythmical values,
16 – Chiffre Cycle: Proportions 267
resulting in “smooth” tempo transitions (such as q becoming e or doubling

the metronome number while keeping the same unit), or directing tempi
towards Stockhausen’s theory of the chromatic tempo scale. Rihm’s tempo
changes are musically inspired: abrupt, indicated by subito, surprising,
sometimes not to say shocking, or gradually accelerating or decelerating to
arrive at a different tempo or speed atmosphere. Of course, this musical
approach does not rule out the possibility of clear and simple tempo
proportions, such as reaching double or half speed (q = 60  120 or vice
versa). This is also caused by the fact that his metronome numbers are
never “searched”: Rihm restricts himself to the average figures. Tempo
changes are a function of the course of the music.
Time Signature
Like the tempo, the time signature rarely makes use of a unit other than the
crotchet.
Time signature 4/4 is the only one in Chiffre I, Bild, Chiffre VII and
Nach-Schrift. Together with Chiffre IV where the continuous 4/4 is only
once interrupted for one bar 2/4 (bar 64), this means that half of the pieces
of the cycle are written in 4/4.
The other pieces share a completely opposite characteristic: periods of
stable time signature alternate with periods of instability. In turn, the longer
stable passages are always 4/4. The unavoidable exception in this field is
Chiffre VIII with constantly unstable time signatures; here the longest
passage without time signature change lasts for no more than five bars.
Sometimes time signature changes are limited to one or a few bars, as a
kind of breaking through the regularity of 4/4, provoking a short “metrical
disorientation” or a sudden and intentional “loss of balance”. This is
certainly the case where the beat unit changes. For example: one bar of 5/8
preceded and followed by 4/4 in Chiffre II (bar 177); one bar of 7/16 is
inserted in the ongoing 4/4 in Chiffre V (bar 122); and in Chiffre VI the
continuous 4/4 is twice interrupted by a single bar 5/8 (bar 68 and 70).
Another constant characteristic: all pieces of the cycle start and end in
4/4.
Even more important than the analysis of time signatures is the fact that
priority is given to the independent and free moving rhythm, over the
regularity of the metre defined by time signature and tempo stability.

Drawing conclusions based only on the time signature presence could be
falsifying the “reality” of the music.
Proportions in the Chiffre Cycle

Now and again, the middle and the golden section locations were mentioned
in the previous chapters because of important musical facts, such as unique
events. Indeed, certain proportions were revealed during the analysis of the
different Chiffre pieces when combining tempo and time signature with
other objective facts (such as fermatas and general pauses) and other
structural facts (such as numbers of bars and parts of equal duration). I will
pay attention to both golden section locations (short-long and long-short,
respectively noted as 0.382 and 0.618 in the following paragraphs), resulting
in symmetrically placed events, with or without common characteristics.
Proportions in Chiffre I
- Tempo
In Chiffre I four different tempi are used: q = 40, 60, 80 and 120, containing
twice the proportion 1:2 for (40:80 and 60:120). Contrary to the short
moments of q = 40 and 60, the tempi q = 80 and 120 both appear over a
long period, albeit with some slight changes (accelerando, meno mosso and
poco meno mosso). Leaving these minor changes out of consideration and
reducing to the four basic tempi, the combination of the metronome
numbers in the proportion 1:2 gives the following result: the first part, bars
1-107, uses q = 80 followed by q = 40 in only two bars at the end (bars 106-
107); the second part, consisting of bars 108-176, starts with a short period
q = 60 (bars 108-120) and continues until the end of the piece with q = 120.
Both parts, 107 bars and 69 bars, respectively, are related by the golden
section as ratio (176 x 0.618 = 108.7).320 The shift from the slower to the
faster tempo group is a fact not only by the change of q = 40  60, but also
by the faster rhythms in bars 109-110 (see Ex. 73, p. 261). Moreover, bar
109 marks the beginning of a new section.
- Golden Section: bars 108 and 68

The location of the golden section (0.618, bar 108) is marked by a full bar
of rest, the only one in the piece. The music comes to a stop: the uniqueness
of this silence has a huge impact. The surrounding quasi-symmetrical
placement was already discussed in Ex. 73.
At the location of the golden section in the first half of the piece (0.382, bar
69 instead of 68), the piano starts a solo melodic element in the right hand:
ffff, espressivo, con tutta la sforza (bars 69-75), enclosed between two
fermatas. For several reasons this is also a unique event: in no other place
in Chiffre I does Rihm ask the piano for this particular articulation.
Furthermore, it is the only melodically elaborated solo passage in the right
hand of the piano (there is one other shorter right hand piano solo, based
on a repeated note, bars 119-121), which could be interpreted as an
anticipation of long solo passages in the upcoming pieces of the Chiffre
cycle.
- Fibonacci
The middle of the score coincides with a Fibonacci number with the
smallest margin of error possible (89 – 1).
From the bar of the golden section (0.618) on to the end of the piece (bars
108-176), the duration in number of bars of passages in a constant tempo
are proportioned following the Fibonacci series. Without any exception, all
passages are based on Fibonacci numbers, with a tolerance of one bar:
- 13 bars, bars 108-120 in tempo q = 60.

- 5 6 (55 + 1) bars, bars 121-176 average in tempo q = 120.
- Bar 129, 21 bars past the place of the golden section and 8 bars past
the start of q = 120: fermata.
- B ar 142, 13 bars later: a tempo, after two bars meno mosso, pesante.
- B ar 150, 8 bars later: poco meno mosso, ma molto agitato.
- Bar 152, 2 bars later: fermata.
- Bar 173, 21 bars later: ritenuto and fermata.
- Bars 174-176: three “final” bars a tempo, più pesante, with a fermata in
bar 174, dividing the conclusion in 1 + 2 bars.
Another remarkable duration is also defined by a Fibonacci number: the

first long piano soloist passage lasts for 21 bars (bars 43-63).
- Middle: bar 88
A chorale-like setting is placed in the middle (bars 88-96), also the start of
a new section. The tempo indication is meno mosso, making it the first slow
phrase of the piece. In bar 96, Tempo I is restored. The passage is non
espressivo, a unique indication not only for Chiffre I, but in fact for the
whole cycle.
The middle is marked by symmetrical melodic elements in different
instruments: bass clarinet (bars 88-89): f#(+1)g(-1)f#, isolated by rests, in
homorhythm with the second cello: g(+9)e(-9)g. Others have quasi-
symmetrical elements with a deviation of a minor second. Symmetrical
elements of three notes marked by an ascending and descending leap were
already presented in the opening section of Chiffre I: all instruments, except
for the piano, play such element homorhythmically in bar 12ff.
Proportions in Chiffre II
Some similarities with Chiffre I mark the proportions in Chiffre II.
- Tempo
All tempi of Chiffre I return and q = 100 is added: q = 40, 60, 80, 100 and
120.
The piece starts with a moment of unstable tempo (bars 1-15) mirrored in
a double tempo deceleration at the end (bars 231-248). In between there
are two main periods showing the same speeding up as in Chiffre I: q = 80
in bars 16-169 followed by q = 120 in bars 170-230. The division into two
blocks, both marked by a contrast in tempo, is similar to Chiffre I, but the
elaboration is completely different.
- Golden section: bars 153 and 95

The emphasised melodic element starting at the location of the golden
section (0.618) was described earlier as a generative pole (figure 3, see Ex.
70, p. 256). Moreover, bar 153 is marked by the first time signature change
of the score, 4/4 to 5/4, introducing a series of time signature changes.
Rounding the golden section number 153.3 up to 154, it equals exactly the
total number of bars in tempo q = 80 (bars 16-169).
At the first golden section location (0.382, bar 95), again a unique event is
found: a silence of six beats at the conclusion of the sustained violin
harmonics passage in bars 94/3-95. The piece continues with the start of the
bass drum roll, almost inaudible (bar 100).
- Fibonacci
Always with a tolerance of one bar, Fibonacci numbers structure the score.
Concentration on smaller numbers in the opening bars, both as durations
and as bar numbers, cannot be convincing or proof of the application of the
Fibonacci series. Towards the end a few larger figures of the Fibonacci
series alternate with smaller ones:
- Bars 216-218: 3 bars q = 120.

- Bars 219-230: 12 (13 – 1) bars of più mosso.
- Bars 231-244: 14 (13 + 1) bars of q = 80.
- Bars 244-248: 5 bars of q = 60.
Some more convincing larger Fibonacci numbers are found over the whole
score:
- F ermatas are marked by Fibonacci numbers in bar 9 (8 + 1), bar 33

(34 – 1), bar 56 (55 + 1).
- The duration of 21 bars of the soloist passage in the piano (bars 17-36)
was already mentioned above in the context of Chiffre I. The transition
from hectic movement to repetition takes place in bar 35 after the
fermata of bar 33 and a hectic “conclusion” involving all instruments
in bar 34.
- The solo of the violins and the drums lasts for 55 bars (bars 67/4-
123/4). The violins start their harmonics with the anacrusis of bar 68,
still accompanied by the piano, ending the previous phrase.
- Middle: bar 124

The middle is marked by a “new beginning” after more than fifty bars of
sustained harmonics in the violins and bass drum roll (bars 68-99 and 100-
123, respectively). Bar 124 is the start of a new section and opens with the
consonant dyad d-a, comparable to the beginning of the piece: the
consonant dyad c-f (bar 1).
Proportions in Chiffre III

- Tempo
Chiffre III is the first piece of the cycle with a great variety of tempi.

At first sight bar 94 (golden section 0.618) is not marked by a special event.
It is part of the repeated passage which began five bars before (bars 89-103).
The dance-like melody begins three bars later (bar 98) with a change of
tempo (q = 160  120) and of time signature to 9/8 and with the unique
indication meno mosso, inquieto. This is the only place in the cycle where
the time signature 9/8 appears, only for two bars, followed by another
unique appearance with the time signature 10/8 for only one bar (bar 100),
replaced by 5/4 in brackets (bars 101-102).
The dance-like melody is played by the English horn and preceded by a
sustained note, pitch a, repeated as the first note of the melody. Pitch a is
started in bar 95 with a fermata, which makes the sustained note extremely
long. In that way, from a timbral point of view, the location of the golden
section is indicated in a correct way with the preparation of the melodic
element, paired with an accelerando over three bars (bars 95-97), preparing
the inquieto expression. Also from a timbral point of view, one could argue
that the English horn is inaudible in these bars because it is part of the ffff
cluster e-a, played by almost all instruments. The timbre is even more
accentuated by tremolo and Flatterzunge in some instruments, recalling the
“ugly” sound of the whistles at the middle of Chiffre III (see p. 274).
However, pitch a was already introduced by the English horn in bars 92-93
and retaken in bar 95 after a whole bar’s rest, which can be seen as a
confirmation of the importance of the exact place of the golden section.
The dance-like sequence lasts for six bars and is heard twice, which
makes it the most remarkable melodic element of Chiffre III. Next to the
appearance of the generated element in bar 17, this is another fact
comparable with Chiffre II, where the most emphasised melodic element
started at the place of the golden section and returned also several times,
albeit more varied than repeated.
At the first golden section location (0.382, bar 58) a single event takes place:
the introduction to the long piano solo passage built on repetition,
comparable to the same golden section place in Chiffre I.
- Fibonacci
The repeated passage quoted above, containing the dance-like melody,
starts exactly in bar 89, a Fibonacci number. In Chiffre III all bars up to 89
are marked by a Fibonacci number and seem to be awarded a particular
quality (Table 26).
Bar Event
5 1-5: solo tomtoms
6-7: intervention all instruments in solo tomtoms
8 8-16: again tomtoms solo, regular rhythm of quintuplets of semiquavers,
two players on low tomtom
13 unique interruption of the low timbre in the tomtoms solo by accents on
high tomtoms
21 unique event, hocket
homorhythm in all instruments, quaver note alternated with quaver rest,
opposite in tomtoms, pedal note c in piano
also the end of the melodic element started in bar 17
34 35: first change of time signature: 5/4
35: end of tomtoms passage
55 unique return of the low tomtom after finishing the solo passages and the
change for other percussion instruments in bar 36
56: tempo change (a tempo, q = 88)
89 89-103: repeated passage
144 no special event
Table 26. Chiffre III. Events in bars marked by a Fibonacci number.

Other applications of the Fibonacci series are linked to the length of

passages, although admitting one bar of tolerance:
e double acceleration (accelerando, più accelerando) preparing the

- Th
prestissimo passage lasts for 14 bars (13 + 1, bars 60-73).
- Bars 98-119: 22 bars (21 + 1) marked by a series of time signature
changes.
- There are 22 (21 + 1) bars between the end of the first repeated passage
(bar 103) and the start of the second one (bar 125).
- The final section of the piece consists of the second repeated passage
(bars 125-152), lasting for 27 bars twice or 54 bars
(55 – 1).
- The previous finding leads in fact to counting backwards from the end
of the composition, which is not common, but justified in this specific
case because of the above obtained result. Indeed, counting the
repeated passage only once: at 54 (55 – 1) bars from the end, in bar 98,
the melodic element inquieto starts. This was already discussed in the
comment on the golden section.
- At 34 bars from the end, bar 119: definite final return to time signature
4/4.
- Middle: bar 76
The bar at the middle of the score is part of the piano solo with short
percussion interventions (bars 60-83). However, by the indications
prestissimo, come una macchina and isterico, right here a unique moment in
the whole of the Chiffre cycle is created, a reference to Ligeti (see p. 75).
Moreover, this is the only place where whistles are heard in the cycle: bars
70-81 with 76 exactly in the middle. This means that the piano chord
repetition leads from the first golden section location to the middle of the
score. In order to obtain perfect symmetry, the repetition should be
maintained until the bar of the golden section in the second half (bar 94).
Indeed, the repetition of the piano chord is continued after bar 76,
alternating with other repeated chords from bar 83 on and replaced by
short repeated scale fragments in contrary motion (bars 86-87). At the
Fibonacci bar 89, repetition of a whole fragment (bars 89-103) replaces the
immediate short chord or scale repetition. At last, the piano ends with
short repeated moments by tremolos in bars 95-97, where the second golden
section bar is reached. With a lot of imagination, the composer creates a
variety of repetition possibilities around the middle of the score and
delimited by the symmetry of the golden section bars.
- Generated element: bar 17

This coincidence is worth mentioning: bar 17 marks the first melodic
outburst of Chiffre III, breaking the domination of the tomtoms. As
mentioned before, this melodic element is generated from Chiffre II (bar
153). This is remarkable, because in Chiffre II, exactly at bar 17, the long
soloist piano passage, generated element from Chiffre I (bar 43ff.), starts.
Proportions in Chiffre IV
- Tempo
With q = 40, 44 and 52, Chiffre IV has the slowest tempi of the cycle, next
to Chiffre VIII. The piece contrasts with the previous ones by the absolute
predominance of one tempo, q = 52, featuring in 104 of the total of 115
bars. Nevertheless, the division of the score can be based on the same
tempo relations as in Chiffre I and II. Here, three times a long passage of
fixed tempo q = 52 alternates with a very short moment of changed tempo.
At the end phase, more tempo changes occur, causing the loss of the
predominance of the basic tempo (Table 27).
Bars Tempo
1-29 q = 52
30-31 change: q = 40
32-60 q = 52
61-64 change: acc., a tempo, (più) acc.
65-96 q = 52
97-98 change: più mosso
99-105 q = 52, acc.
106-113 change: q = 44, q = 40, rit.
114-115 q = 52
Table 27. Chiffre IV. Tempo overview.

The first three periods are of almost equal length: 31 (29 + 2), 33 (29 + 4)
and 34 (32 + 2) bars, respectively. The final passage is half as long with 17
bars, resulting in an approximation of the ratio 2:2:2:1.
This division is reinforced by particular events in the transitions of the
periods:
- B ar 29: general pause with long fermata just before the tempo
change.
- Bars 62-68: long general pauses in the accelerandi and in the return
of the basic tempo, together with the only time signature changes
of the whole composition, both for only one bar (1/4 in bar 61; 2/4
in bar 64, Ex. 78).
- Bar 99: a fermata at the beginning of the final period combines the
bass clarinet and cello with silence in the piano.
(più) accelerando - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
>-œ ##œ.
nn-œœ
3 3
œ œ
& 24 ‰ J
pp f
j
Pf
2
&4 ‰ nbœœ
nbœœ #nœœ
n œ- # œ- b œ.
3
> 3
Ex. 78. Chiffre IV, 64.
- Middle: bar 57
The exact centre of Chiffre IV is not marked by a special event. However,
three bars past the middle (bar 60) the piano begins the triple repetition of
a series of three chromatically ascending chords, with varied rhythm and
dynamics. The chords are in fact quasi-clusters (a small cluster with one
separate note, cluster e-g and b for instance on 60/4). The series starts at bar
60/4 (piano solo), 64/1 (piano solo, Ex. 78) and 68/3 (piano with sustained
notes in bass clarinet and cello). Long rests separate the three-chord series:
a unique event in the whole piece.

The passage described above ends in bar 70, at the moment of the golden
section. In turn, this place is marked by a unique event. The top note
reached by the three-chord series, c#, is continued in unison in the most
diverse settings in bars 71-73/3: attacked semiquaver in sfffz, resonating in
the piano pedal, harmonic with crescendo in the cello, returning to the
piano with an even louder semiquaver sffffz continued in the muted c#, and
doubled in four octaves over seven beats. This is the longest and timbrally
most varied unison of the score. Other unisons are shorter and of a uniform
timbre.
The location of the golden section in the first half of the piece (0.382,
bar 44) is less emphasised. Bar 46, rather than bar 44, brings the most hectic
phrase of Chiffre IV to an end. The fast rhythms are concentrated on pitches
c, f and f#, including some repetitions (bars 36-46).
Applications of the Fibonacci series are not found in Chiffre IV. The
duration of the three equal sections of approximately 34 bars is not
convincing, because too much tolerance is needed.
Proportions in Bild
Bild takes an exceptional position: no convincing proportional elements
are found. As Rihm remarks that Bild is “in the vicinity of the cycle” (im
Umkreis), in this field it is clearly an outsider.321
This is the first piece of the cycle in one tempo, q = 80; one of the main
tempi of the cycle, combined with the cycle’s main time signature 4/4. The
only tempo change is più mosso (bar 102), two bars before the location of
the golden section (bar 104). The grade of tolerance is too high to be
acceptable.
One could say that the signal-like repetition of the horn, followed by
trumpet and piano, marks the middle of the score (bar 85), but this is no
more than a striking element, absolutely not a unique event.
Proportions in Chiffre V
Unlike Bild, Chiffre V shows the greatest diversity in tempi of the whole
cycle.
- Tempo and Fibonacci

Chiffre V starts with a moment of unstable tempi, followed by two longer
periods of q = 100 (bars 20-47 and 54-73), separated by six slower bars of
q = 60. As was the case in earlier pieces of the cycle, successive tempi must
be grouped to make the proportions appear, and fermatas confirm the ends
of passages. Fibonacci numbers are found, although again with the smallest
difference of one bar.
- B ars 1-5: 5 bars q = 80, with a fermata in bar 3.

- Bars 6-19: 14 bars (13 + 1) q = 92.
- Bars 20-53: 34 bars q = 100, ending with a deceleration q = 60
(bars 48-53).
- Bars 54-74: 21 bars q = 100 ending with an acceleration of one bar
q = 138 with fermata (bar 74).
- Bars 75-77: two inserted bars q = 138 (bars 75-76) and one bar
senza tempo (bar 77) with fermata.
- Bars 78-166: 89 bars of unstable tempo form the final part of the
composition.
Within the closing passage of 89 bars (bars 78-166) no further division

based on Fibonacci numbers can be discerned. Instead, a division into two
and four almost equal parts, based on the stable time signatures, is revealed.
- 4 4 bars of 4/4 (bars 78-121).

- 1 bar of 7/16 (bar 122).
- 44 bars of 4/4 (bars 123-166) with the exception of one inserted
bar of 5/4 (bar 143).

The place of the golden section (0.618) is situated in the long piano solo
containing a lot of tempo changes. Not only do the metronome numbers
change, but next to accelerandi and ritenuti, there are also some time unit
changes. The first unit change takes place in bar 102: q = 92 becoming subito
e = 92 or half tempo, leading ritenuto to the slowest tempo of the piece,
x = 60 in bar 105. It could be added that bar 102 is exactly the middle of the
piano repetition of the dyad a-bb (bars 86-118, leaving out other repeated
chords before and afterwards).
The other golden section location (0.382, bar 64) is not highlighted.
- Middle: bar 83
In bar 83 the piano starts the obsessive repetition of the a-bb dyad, which
becomes the subject of the long lasting piano solo with extreme tempo
changes (bars 93-118). Alternating afterwards with other chords, the
stubborn piano repetition is continued until bar 125: that is exactly at three
quarters of the score.
Proportions in Chiffre VI
- Tempo
Possibly due to the Schubert references (see p. 87), Chiffre VI seems more
structured by specific musical events than by objective structural elements.
The piece is constantly at q = 60, with only one bar of ritenuto (bar 61),
approximately at three quarters of the total of 83 bars (83 x 0.75 = 62.2). At
this moment, the building up of the climax, reached in bars 66-70, begins.
Nothing is normal here: timbres are “ugliest”, metre and tempo become
irregular by time signature changes (bars 68-71) and fermatas (bar 67, 69).
- Middle: bar 41
Chiffre VI is characterised by a particular form: a short introduction,
middle, and ending phrase frame two long sections. Bar 41 is part of the
short middle phrase, separating the two sections (bars 40-49), and marked
by a chordal series. All instruments take part in the longest sustained
chords of the whole piece. The horn, for instance, repeats only one sustained
note, f# from bar 42 until 49, and is joined in unison by the string quartet
(bars 45/4-47/1).
The place around the first quarter of bar 20 (bars 19/4-24/1) is similar to
the middle of the piece in its use of sustained chords. It is also comparable
to the moment of three quarters (bar 62) because of an ascending melodic
element: db(+6)g(+2)a repeated in the bass clarinet and transformed to

g(+7)d(-6)ab at the end, and freely imitated by the cello (bar 21, Ex. 79).
This is augmented and transposed to bb(+6)e(+1)f with inserted notes
adding chromaticism in bars 59-62 (Ex. 80), emphasised in the foreground
by longer durations in the highest register of the horn. As mentioned above,
this is also the moment of the only tempo fluctuation in the piece.
? 44 nœ r ≈ Œ
3
nœ ‰ nœ j
3 3
Bcl
b œ. nœv. v. b œ nœ . #>œ œ nœ. v. bœv.
v > v
sfffz pp fff sfffz
nœœ bnœœ œœ ™™
ffff
? 44 Œ
3
j sul p.
nœ ≈ Œ
. >
Vc
nœ >
>
sffz pp sffz sffz pp ff
Ex. 79. Chiffre VI, 21.
Ä Ä
4Ä
+ + o
œ™ j j nœ^. n>œ œ œ b˙ n˙ nœ ˙ ˙
Hn & 4 bœ bœ œ
3 3
ppp fff sfffz p sfffz sfffz p fff p ffff
Ex. 80. Chiffre VI, 59-62. Key notes are indicated by arrows.
Based on exceptional musical events, Chiffre VI can be divided into four

equal parts.

The location of the golden section (0.618, bar 51) is two bars after the
ending of the middle phrase. It is not given particular attention, probably
since all concentration goes to the preparation of the impending “ugly”
climax.
The same goes for the first golden section bar (0.382, bar 32): it is rather
unique because of the timbre of the string quartet, exclusively harmonics.
But one could rightly argue that the ffff horn signals in bars 29 and 30 are
much more striking.
Proportions in Chiffre VII

Apart from the continuous 4/4 time signature with nine different tempi,
Chiffre VII resembles Chiffre III and V. Most frequent are q = 80 and 108.
Based on tempi, the structure can be defined as follows:
- Th
e first half of the score, bars 1-98 (of 198 bars) is divided into
fifteen moments of a minimum of two and a maximum of ten bars
featuring the nine different tempi of the piece, including many
gradual changes. The first quarter (bars 1-50) is marked by the
highest frequency of extreme slow and fast tempi, which do not
return afterwards. In the second quarter (bars 51-98) there are
fewer changes of moderate to fast tempi between q = 80 and
q = 108.
- The second half is completely different and marked by only two
fixed tempi without any gradual change: starting in bar 99 with
q = 108 and changing to q = 80 in bar 154, 55 and 45 bars,
respectively.
This means that four parts are found, 50, 48, 55 and 45 bars long, respectively,
not equal in length. With a larger margin of error than earlier in the analysis
of tempi and proportions, one could conclude that the division into four
more or less equal parts is comparable to Chiffre VI. Chiffre VII is the only
piece of the cycle with such a clear tempo evolution.
- Middle: bar 99
In bar 99 the tempo stabilises at q = 108 for a long period, while the next
and last change of the piece occurs only 55 bars later, in bar 154 (q = 80). As
mentioned above, the middle bar divides the composition into two parts
with a different tempo concept.
The middle of the score is also characterised by a specific instrumentation.
The only moment the piccolo is involved is indeed here: bars 99-102. At the
same place, the horn interferes for the first time with a striking melodic
element in sustained notes: eb(+13)e§(+13)f.

The second time the horn comes to the foreground is at the moment of the
golden section (0.618, bars 123-125). A melodic element is accompanied by
sustained notes in the string instruments and joined soon by the wind
players. It ascends over more than two octaves and is undoubtedly the
strongest moment of the horn in the whole of Chiffre VII and therefore a
unique event (Ex. 81).
+ + o #œ œ >œ ™ nœ >+ , +
? 44 Ó Œ nœ nœ œ nœ J J & bœ œ nœ b J n˙ #˙ ™ Œ
Hn
J
3 3
p fff sfffz pp
Ex. 81. Chiffre VII, 123-126.
In the first half of the piece the golden section location (0.382, bar 76) is
marked by consonance and unisons, eb-bb and eb, lasting from bar 71 until
bar 82. The only exceptional chord is the tritone-triad eb-a-bb in bar 79,
obtained by adding pitch a to the sustained consonant dyad eb-bb. Less
emphasised, although present sffz in the piano and contrasting in the high
register, the tritone-triad is found again on pitch g at the location of the
golden section (bar 121/4).
Proportions in Chiffre VIII

The order of Chiffre VIII is comparable to Bild and Chiffre VI: one straight
tempo, with the exception of only one bar (bar 35). The main tempo is
q = 40, the exceptional bar q = 60.
This maintained tempo is in great contrast to the unceasing time
signature changes, although following an almost regular course, calculating
as usual with one bar of margin of error:
- Th
e order of 4/4  5/4  4/4  3/4 is repeated twice. The first time
lasting 4-3-7-7 bars, respectively, or 21 bars, ordered around figure
7 and lasting half of the composition (21 of 40 bars), the second
time 2-2-2-1 bars, together again a group of 7 bars.
- A
fter one inserted bar 7/8 (bar 29), the time signature is stable 4/4
until the end, with a two-bars 2/4 insertion, inspired by the
contrasting musical content (bars 34-35).
Both the unique tempo change (bar 35), five bars before the end, and the
single bar where the unit of the crotchet is replaced by the quaver (bar 29)
have no other function than to slightly disturb the order.
It could be due to the shortness of the composition of only 40 bars that
the golden section locations and the middle are not stressed in a unique
way. This could also be due to its concluding function, as described in
chapter 11 (see p. 211ff.) and in chapter 13 (see p. 231).
Proportions in Nach-Schrift
In spite of the almost complete overwriting of Chiffre I in Nach-Schrift, the
work received its own tempo design. This shows that tempo can also be
affected by overwriting and proves the independence of musical content
from tempo: an overwritten musical content or generated element can be
metamorphosed by tempo changes. By looking for proportions, it is also
clear that the overwriting has priority over the original proportions, which
become vague or even completely disappear and are not replaced by other
proportional elements. Passages are left out, others are relocated, and
interpolations are made. All these operations have an important negative
influence on the proportions. Convincing examples are the fact that the
middle bar (bar 88) and the golden section bar (0.618, bar 108) of Chiffre I
are not preserved in the overwriting in Nach-Schrift (see Table 23, p. 237).
Proportions of Length in the Chiffre Pieces

The total numbers of bars of some pieces of the Chiffre cycle show exact and
simple ratios, 1:1, 1:2:3, 3:4 and 4:5, counting in one bar of margin of error
(Table 28). By these ratios all pieces of the cycle can be related in pairs or
triplets, except for Bild with 169 bars and the short coda piece Chiffre VIII
with 40 bars.
I II III IV V VI VII Nach-Schrift

number
176 248 152 115 166 83 198 175
of bars
I:NS 1 1
II:V:VI 3 2 1
III:IV 4 3
II:VII 5 4
Table 28. Chiffre cycle. Proportions of length.
The ratio 1:1 for Chiffre I and Nach-Schrift is obvious, while the latter is an
overwriting of the former.
Comparison: Chiffre II, V and VI

Chiffre II, V and VI with 248, 166 and 83 bars, respectively, show the simple
proportion 3:2:1, counting in one bar of difference for Chiffre II: 248 bars
instead of 249. The comparison of the passage at the middle of each
composition, around bar 124, bar 83 and bar 42, respectively, results in the
same proportion.
- I n Chiffre II, bar 123 marks the end of the long quasi-stasis, double
solo passage by the violins and bass drums; its total duration is 66
bars.
- In Chiffre V, bar 83 marks the start of a long period of repeated
chords in the piano, ending in bar 126, which makes a total
duration of 44 bars.
- In Chiffre VI, the number of bars should be 22. The middle of the
composition is marked by full concentration on one pitch, f# (bars
42-49), with unison f# in bars 45-47. Before, in bar 25, pitch f#
appeared already as a sustained unison, accentuated by the
indication Wie ein Hauch. The difference between the two unison
places is 22 bars. In this way, I can fill in the proportion, not by
duration, but by the distance.
Around the middle of the three compositions, I find balanced symmetry,

proportioned 3:2:1, in three different ways: a sustained characteristic
element after the middle in Chiffre V; the same before the middle in
Chiffre II; and one single tone (unison), albeit less emphasised, before and
at the middle in Chiffre VI.
- Historical references
The three compositions, Chiffre II, V and VI, refer to Gustav Mahler by the
same timbral effect of “bells up” (Schalltrichter hoch, Schalltrichter in die
Höhe, Schalltrichter oben), required several times in each piece (see p. 77).
Near the end of the three pieces, one particular place of coincidence of
“bells up” with the proportion 3:2:1 in location and in duration is found:
bars ChII/216-218, ChV/144-145 and ChVI/72 (repeated after the first
time in bar 67; no end bar given). These places are 32, 22 and 11 bars,
respectively, before the end of each of the pieces and last for 3, 2 and 1 bars,
respectively. Moreover, in each case, this timbral effect is linked to a
climactic moment: in Chiffre II and V in contrast with a preceding soft
passage; in Chiffre VI it is of course the climax with the “painful” glissando
and the highest “ugly” sounds in the clarinet. Climaxes are situated at the
same proportional places, towards the end of each of the three compositions.
Comparison: Chiffre II and VII

For Chiffre II and VII the ratio of the numbers of bars is 5:4. Again
Chiffre II is chronologically the first object of the comparison.
The opening of both pieces is marked by an identical event. After nine
bars of introduction, Chiffre VII continues in bars 10-13 with the exact
repetition, including instrumentation, of the first four bars of Chiffre II.
Moreover, in both cases the opening bars are consonant: a dyad in
Chiffre II and a triad in VII. Only these two pieces of the whole cycle open
with consonant chords. These facts could suggest the launch of an elaborated
relation between the two compositions. Quite the contrary is true: no
striking correspondences based on the proportion 5:4 are found, either in
the structural analysis in sections and phrases except for some mere
coincidences, or in the developments after the similar opening. The
elaborated piano passage, overwritten from Chiffre I in Chiffre II, has no

match in Chiffre VII.
It is only in the second half of the two compositions that the proportional
relationship 5:4 begins to play a role. Right at the middle, bar ChII/124
corresponding with bar ChVII/99, a kind of announcement of the
impending correspondences is found: an outburst with striking ascending
leaps in most of the wind instruments occurs twice.
In bar ChII/153 the extended chorale-like melody starts in the horn,
based on the chromatic steps c to f (Ex. 82). It is doubled by the oboe and
mostly in parallel upper fifths by the trumpet. At the corresponding place
in ChVII/123 the horn again plays a melodic element based on the
chromatic steps, this time c# and f. The added pitches a and bb are the first
notes of the upper voice of the trumpet in Chiffre II. The resulting melodic
element in Chiffre VII is a one-voiced merging of the two-part chorale-like
melody and can be considered a metamorphosed generated element with
its generative pole in Chiffre II. I am fully aware that the ascending line of
this melodic element only at the end shows the small intervals of its
generative pole, but the fact that all notes are common and the exact
corresponding place (with ratio 5:4) where this horn melody appears are at
least striking.
To a certain extent, Chiffre II could be a generative pole for Chiffre VII:
some elements of the former are rewritten in the latter.
q = 80
- - - - 3 - - - - -
5
&4 Œ œ b œ
nnœ b œ nnœœ nnœ bb˙
œ ˙ œ™
nnœ™ b œ nnœœ b œ™
b
Tpt
Ob-Hn bœ œ™
- - - - - - - -
f, ben articolato
>- >- ^. >. >.
3
-j - -3 - - - >-
™
^.
& nnœ-œ ™™
155
nnœœ
nœfi b œ nœ
b œJ nnœœ n œ b œ n œ b œ nœ œœ nnœ b œœ ™
b nœ œ
#nœœ n œ œ
j
nÆœJ œ
v - -. - - - > > >
v. >
.
3
+Ä +
œ nœ J J &bœ œ nœ bœ ™
o #œ œ Ä >
? 44 Ó nœ + nœ n>˙
Œ nœ J
Hn
J
3 3
p fff sfffz
Ex. 82. Chiffre II, 153-156 (above, see Ex. 70, p. 256).
Chiffre VII, 123-125 (below, see Ex. 81, p. 282).
Boxed: notes and chromatically shifted notes borrowed from the lower voice
of the melodic element in Chiffre II. Arrows: notes borrowed from the upper
voice.
Although Chiffre II is the common element in both comparisons with

proportions made above – on the one hand the proportion 3:2:1 in Chiffre
II, V and VI, and on the other hand the proportion 5:4 Chiffre II and VII –
there are no striking findings based on proportions that could link the two
groups; in other words, that could link Chiffre VII to the correspondences
found in the three other pieces.
Conclusions
The first series of conclusions concerns proportions within each piece of
the Chiffre cycle. Applied to the individual pieces are proportions based on
equal parts, on the Fibonacci series and on the golden section. Only in the
first pieces of the cycle is there a link between the tempo proportions and
durations in the piece itself.
Division into Golden Golden Fibonacci

Chiffre
equal parts section (0.618) section (0.382) series
I – x x x
II 2:1 x x x
III – x x x
IV 2:2:2:1 x – –
Bild – – – –
V 1:1 (second half) x – x
VI 1:1:1:1 – – –
VII 1:1:1:1 x x –
VIII 2:1:1 – – –
Nach-Schrift – – – –
Table 29. Chiffre cycle. Proportions overview (x: present; –: not found).
Table 29 shows a clear turn after Chiffre V: Fibonacci series are no longer
applied and golden section indications are found only in Chiffre VII.
Another kind of proportion is introduced: the division of the score into
equal parts. Only once, in Chiffre II, do all proportional possibilities figure.
Nach-Schrift is really exceptional because all proportions of Chiffre I have

disappeared in the overwriting.
The second series of conclusions is about comparisons between Chiffre

pieces, revealing equal proportions. The analysis of proportions of lengths
of the Chiffre pieces yields the remarkable finding that all compositions of
the cycle, except for Bild and Chiffre VIII, share the proportion 1:2:3:4:5 as
to the total number of bars. The presumption of more detailed proportions,
returning in different numbers of the cycle, could be no more than a
consequence of the general application of proportions. However, it is worth
mentioning that specific elements, such as quasi-stasis and historical
references, can be linked by the same ratios, common to different Chiffre
pieces. By these findings, not only is the application of proportions as such
confirmed, but the degree of coherence, typical of the cyclic concept, has
also increased.
Final Conclusions
W olfgang Rihm is an individual and independent artist, who built –

and is still building – his own multidimensional musical universe.
To recall a concept of postmodernism: his universe is a “container”, in
which elements from nature and proportion, philosophy and fine arts,
theatre and literature, music from the past and the present are collected and
related to each other by his open pluralistic gaze. It is indeed a “postmodern”
container because all these elements are understood and interpreted in a
very personal way and applied to his aesthetic aiming at the development
of the “new”. All elements are digested or sedimented to be applied in an
original way. A convincing example is his preference for allusion or
“hidden” quotation, instead of clear and accentuated exact quotation of
existing melodies in the oeuvre of colleague composers. Tonfall or what
from the past is still interesting, challenging to recompose, to add a personal
concept.
Rihm’s prolific zeal and endless imagination create an enormous musical
oeuvre, diverse and versatile, not to be described in one or a few style names
or definitions. The choice of instrumental music (string quartet, chamber
music and chamber orchestra; independent pieces and a cycle) composed
in the 1980s was based on Rihm’s particular approach to this highly abstract
music. Despite the titles of some pieces, this music is abstract, not inspired
by a text for instance, but rather referring to a text as a personal reflection,
not inspired by an extra-musical subject, but again, rather referring to it in
a personal way. Rihm is not interested in the recreation of something
existing outside music. A composition cannot be an illustration of
something that struck him, nor a comment. It is always about his personal
and individual opinion, his direct approach of sound and music.
Titles are anecdotical, such as Blaubuch for a string quartet notated in a
blue notebook. Titles are “secret” and challenging, since their meaning is
not clear or unambiguous: Chiffre for instance, where the composer per
manently asks himself what the meaning of “chiffre” could be. Compo-
289
s ition titles can be challenging and enigmatic rather than an explanation

of the content of the piece, for instance Ohne Titel.
During the 1980s Rihm explored the extent to which it was possible to com-
pose without the rigidity of a system. He wanted to be at a certain distance
from all systems he was taught during his musical education, to explore
what he did not learn: to try to compose without the rules of a system, how-
ever flexible they might be. His aim was not systemlessness as such, since he
experienced rather quickly that this extreme was impossible to reach.
Therefore, it is better to describe his aim in terms of trial and search for
freedom balanced with “com-position”, minimising coherence while staying
responsible for each created sound, avoiding the pitfall of indeterminacy.
Certain stages of systemlessness are purely conceptual without the
possibility of concrete realisation. It is a contradiction to compose a Vor-
Ton because the unformed condition cannot be maintained once the sound
is formed. In the field of instrumental music, the ideas of Artaud and
Sloterdijk can be inspiring philosophy for Rihm, but in the analysed
compositions as such I could find hardly any musical trace of it.
Another systemless tendency is based on the lack of planning of the
form and structural course of a composition, hence the scarcity of sketches.
However, Rihm’s refusal of a preplanning is replaced by his immediate
reaction to each step he takes during the compositional process. “Process”
must be understood as a step-by-step progression on an unknown path,
leading somewhere by each step, not knowing its course, direction and
without aim, no end of the path is foreseen, no waypoints indicated.
Necessary decisions are taken at the right moment. Through the results of
a significant number of analyses it becomes clear that the composer decided
at a certain moment about crucial places, such as the middle of a piece, the
golden section locations, the definition of symmetrical events, taking into
account the possibility of proportions. However, musical content always
prevails over formal exactness, as Rihm saw in Stockhausen’s exceptions to
rules or methods. The analyst has to count in a certain tolerance, a margin
of error, when he tries to find these crucial locations. In the particular case
of the Notebook Compositions, the ad hoc planning during the
compositional process is based on the composer’s memory, which can be
helped by what I defined as the “looking back” technique.
The lack of planning goes hand in hand with the non-teleological, the
refusal of development, sustained by the immediate effect of sudden
contrast, shocking break and unexpected gap.
Several times, I found that the definition of crucial places in a score is
based on the uniqueness of the moment, on the creation of a unique
combination of parameters and sound characteristics, a unique texture, not
to be repeated in the whole composition. However, “indication” is a better
term than “definition” here. The uniqueness of such a moment is not
stressed or accentuated in an exaggerated way. The subtle indication of a
special event must be sufficient for the listener (and the analyst) to realise
that an important place has been reached. In that way and not as a
contradiction, the subtle indication can even exist without structural or
formal consequences.
Yet another system-denying method is the replacement of exact
symmetry by what I defined as “balanced symmetry”. On a micro-scale
slight deviations in the second member of a musical element, compared to
a former one, resulting in imperfect symmetry, must be accepted as
“balanced”. Replacement of a characteristic by a similar one (such as a
sustained note replaced by a fast repeated note over the same duration)
puts the stress more on the balance than on the symmetry or equality.
Hence, on a macro-scale, the indication of symmetrical places can happen
by two unique events, which have little or even nothing in common. In
other words, the indication of a symmetrical location does not imply the
elaboration of a similar event. That is clearly another reason to replace
“definition” by “indication”.
The results of my analysis show that some aspects of Rihm’s music are
more subject to systemlessness than others. Referring to Adorno, I coined
the term “informal harmony”: according to me it is not possible to find any
system-bound concept in Rihm’s chord formation and series. The lowest
limit of holding togethe the chords consists of the presence of a focal pitch
and of common elements in chord chains. Their presence seems to be
sufficient for Rihm to increase and decrease the harmonic tension.
The stock of means and techniques provoking the loosening of the
system-bound is not yet exhausted. At certain moments Rihm’s music is
illogical in the flexible treatment of all kinds of musical elements, such as a
melodic element, a well-defined texture, an instrument. These elements can
appear and disappear, move from foreground to background and vice

versa, be present in a certain passage and never return afterwards. This
certainly provokes a degree of formal “anarchy”.
Not without reason I chose the term “stock” in the previous paragraph.
The stock or multitude of musical elements is limitless: the domination of
single events over repeated or returning musical moments, the unlimited
possibilities of generated elements from one and the same generative pole,
the seizing of every opportunity to vary, to change in such a way that only
a presumption of relation is possible, the disappearance of the original in
the complete metamorphosis – all these means lead to a through-composed
result, where order and system do not seem to be of primary importance.
Of course Rihm had to accept the consequences of the limitation of the
system-bound. More precisely, he decided on the logical consequences of it
and turned negative results into positive ones. At a certain moment, a
looser coherence can cause danger for the perceptibility of the composition
as a whole. Rihm’s reaction is based on a simple but often denied truth: it is
hard, not to say impossible, to “grasp” the overall form of a composition
over a longer period of time. With lower coherence-tools offered by the
composer, fewer grasp-possibilities exist for the listener. Instead of restoring
the system-bound, Rihm opened the way to another attitude for the listener,
where absolute freedom of listening is guaranteed, where the spectator is
freed of the commitment to understand music by understanding its
coherence. The admission of the impossibility of overlooking a whole
composition leads to the invitation of listening to particular moments,
more precisely to the concentration on the “here and now” sounding
moment; hence the preservation of the “traditional” through-composed
work, moment by moment, phrase by phrase, section by section. “Grasping”
a phrase is indeed possible; the result is that the listener is set free from
concentration on the logical thread.
This could only be reached by the parallelism with fine arts, based on
Rihm’s interest in sculpture, painting and drawing. I commented in a
comprehensive way on the fact that Rihm is neither interested in inspiration
from concrete fine artworks nor in the search for analogies in music. Rihm
looks to where the optical can be a guide for the aural. That is in search of
musical pendants for specific qualities of fine arts, from the optical to the
aural. The quality of wood is interesting, not the wooden artwork as such,
but the treatment of the material. Furthermore, Rihm concentrates on the
background structures, in fact hidden structures, in painting and drawing:
invisible formal balance reached by the golden section for instance,
balanced symmetry rather than exact symmetry in the sense of a repeated,
mirrored element. At the same time Rihm “discovers” that there is yet
another element present, also hidden or not visible at first glance: linked to
the golden section is the whole world of proportions. Hence, he brings
proportions from the optical into the aural, into his music.
By one and the same means reflected in fine arts, the transition from
system-loosening to system-restoring or coherence becomes a fact.
Proportions indeed create coherence. The same goes for the other parallel I
developed: the zooming technique. The spectator creates his “route” from
one detail to another, zooming in and out, overlooking the whole and
finding relations or coherence. In doing so, the spectator of fine arts creates
his personal time span; mirrored in music, the zooming in and out of specific
musical elements is done by the composer. I found out that Rihm applies
this zooming technique to his Notebook String Quartets: in Ohne Titel,
no. 5 more on a pictorial level and in no. 6, Blaubuch more related to drawing.
Next to painterly means, there are of course also purely musical system-
bound actions preserving coherence, order and minimal formalism in
Rihm’s instrumental music of the 1980s. Several times I explained how
certain tools or elements work in a dual way, both increasing and decreasing
coherence. I underlined how the Chiffre pieces form a cycle by the presence
of generative poles and generated elements, by returning elements of
different weight (whole passages, overwritten passages, individual
instrumental parts), and by the application of similar and comparable
proportions. However, the fact that a generative pole can be built upon
small intervals can cause purely chromatic generated elements, indeed
decreasing coherence. In spite of the “informal harmony”, the role of the
tritone-triad group is so important that it could even bear the name “Rihm-
chord”. Another harmonic unifying cause is the great uniformity of the
focal pitch aggregate in the Chiffre cycle as well as in the analysed string
quartets. In the string quartets, the concentration of the transitions on
certain pitches is also an element of coherence.
A completely different category of coherence is created by traditional

means: as opposed to the non-teleological I found the development of a
restricted number of figures in the Sixth String Quartet and of three musical
figures with typical characteristics in the Chiffre cycle. It is also undeniable
that allusions to composers, styles and techniques of the past, once
perceived and recognised, contribute to another dimension of coherence in
a certain way, even if Rihm moulds these remembrances of the past in a
radically personal way. To this category I can add some compositions which
are characterised by a particular search. The restricted search “field” yields
a certain unity or coherence: the concentration on the timbre “connection”
of the woodblocks and the noises of the string quartet, of the ricochet and
the paper manipulation in String Quartets nos. 7 and 8 respectively, or
Chiffre IV designed as a “resonance-typology” score. At the same time, in
his concentration on a restricted item, Rihm demonstrates the greatest
possible fantasy in the development of it and an incredible hyper-subtlety
in each forthcoming phase or state of it.
Many aspects of analysis were intertwined in the different paragraphs of

these final conclusions. My analytical approach is as broad as possible.
Working with newly developed tools has proved necessary: tools provided
by the composer, but also created by the analyst. Certain tools have to be
nuanced by the analyst, relative to the definition attributed by the composer.
The famous Übermalung technique is a good example. Applying traditional
and conventional tools was only possible by “neutralising” the classical
terminology, which means depriving it of its historical connotation. A
neutral terminology, such as “melodic element” for instance, offers more
open possibilities for the subtle attribution of personal characteristics, for
the analysis of changing qualities.
The development of the integrated approach to examining “sound as a
whole” has proven to be fruitful as a response to Rihm’s at once composition
method. The integrated analytical tool, based on moment combinations of
foreground characteristics, is an interesting addition to the more detailed
and scrutinising parameter analysis by “magnifying glass”. However, it stays
clear that one cannot do without the other.
A final conclusion for the analyst must not be the frustration or
dissatisfaction caused by the results, where always a certain margin of error
or a lack of concrete proof remains. The creativity of the analyst is a

necessity. The acceptance of results, open for interpretation and not closed
by proof, is closer to the music and more honest than the forced application
of alienated analytical tools, leading to nothing more than generalisations,
too rough and ultimately meaningless.
However, in a more generalising way, the attention paid to proportions, to

symmetry on a micro- and macro-level and to the golden section can also
be related to codes of universal beauty and even to codes of beauty reflected
in nature. Put the other way round: codes of natural beauty have been
mirrored in art and architecture ever since. To these natural phenomena of
beauty, I dare to say as a final conclusion that Wolfgang Rihm has added his
personal idea of natural growth or growth in nature. I described this kind
of growth as “unclear order”, as order and disorder at one and the same
time, or as coherence and the negation of it on a higher level, with a higher
complexity and therefore not recognised as universal beauty by mankind in
the past. Indeed, the mycelium with its mushrooms carries with it the risk
of proliferation; it is characterised by unpredictability. However, the result
of the natural and unbroken or undisturbed evolution of the mycelium is
“controlled” and can even be “perfect”: it is the perfect fairy ring or fairy
circle. In his early essay of 1978, Der geschockte Komponist, Rihm already
stressed the chances and the risks of Wucherung and Wildwuchs:
proliferation in need of control. He argued that music is anarchic, revolting
against its own “order”.
Appendix – Division in Sections
Ohne Titel, String Quartet No. 5

Section Bar
A 1-59/3
B 59/4-79/3
C 79/3-141/1
D 141/2-178/1
E 178/2-204/1
F 204/1-230
G 231-302/2
H 302/2-352
I 353-440/2
J 440/3-494/4
K 494/4-585
See also Table 13, p. 192.
String Quartet No. 6, Blaubuch

Section Bar
A 1-60/2
B 60/3-118/2
C 118/1-182/1
D 182/2-249/4
E 250/1-347/3
F 347/4-426/3[424/3]
G 4276/4[424/4]-533/3[531/3]
H 533/4[531/4]-620/3[614/3]
I 620/4[614/4]-677/4[671/4]
J 677/4[671/4]-726/2[720/2]
K 726/2[720/2]-790/1[784/1]
L 790/1[784/1]-854[848]
Pages 1-28 of the score bear no bar numbers. The first bar numbered by
Rihm is bar 290 on p. 29.
297
On p. 39, there is an error in counting: the first bar should be 382 instead of
384. A second error occurs on p. 55: the first bar should be 562 instead of
568. The total number of bars is 848 instead of 854.
In my text I use the exact count in square brackets next to the score’s
numbers.
String Quartet No. 7, Veränderungen

Section Bar
intro 1-20/4
A 21/1-82/4
B 83/1-159/4
C 160/1-289/3
D 289/3-372/4
E 373/1-434/4[435/4]
coda 435/1[436/1]-462[463]
On p. 30 there is an error in counting: the first bar of the second system

should be 412 instead of 411. The total number of bars is 463 instead of 462.
In my text I use the exact count in square brackets next to the score’s
numbers.
String Quartet No. 8

Section Bar
A 1-72/4
B 73/1-159/2
C 159/3-252/3
D 252/3-304
Chiffre I
Section Bar
A 1-43/3
B 43/4-87
C 88-108
D 109-153/1
E 153/2-176

Appendix - Division in Sections 299
Chiffre II – Silence to be Beaten

Section Bar
A 1-69/1
B 69/2-123
C 124-176/2
D 176/2-230
E 231-248
Chiffre III
Section Bar
A 1-41/3
B 41/4-97
C 98-124
D 125-152
Chiffre IV
Section Bar
A 1-30
B 31-58/3
C 58/4-86
D 87-113
coda 114-115
Bild
Section Bar
intro 1
A 2-28/2
B 28/3-57/3
C 57/4-96/3
D 96/4-125
E 126-162
coda 163-169
Chiffre V
Section Bar
A 1-31
B 32-77
C 78-129
D 130-166
Chiffre VI
Section Bar
intro 1-5
A 6-40/1
middle 40/1-49/2
B 49/2-77/1
coda 77/2-83
Chiffre VII
Section Bar
A 1-35/2
B 35/3-71/1
C 71/2-134/2
D 134/3-182/1
coda 182/2-198
Chiffre VIII
Section Bar
A 1-11/3
B 11/4-18
C 19-27
D 28-33
E 34-40
Nach-Schrift
Section Bar
A 1-43/3
B 43/4-69/3
C 69/4-90
D 91-127
E 128-148
F 149-172/2
coda 172/3-175
Notes
Foreword by Richard McGregor

1 “Now you know”. Reinhold Brinkmann’s ‘arrogant’ response to Rihm who confessed
not to know of an “allusion” in Fragment II of his Hölderlin-Fragmente to Webern.
Brinkmann quoted himself in the Laudatio für Wolfgang Rihm given on the occasion
of Rihm being awarded the Ernst von Siemens prize in 2003. R. Brinkmann
(2003). ‘Stichworte, Momentaufnahmen, Zitate. An drei Lesepulten. Laudatio auf
Wolfgang Rihm. In: No ed. given. 2003 Ernst von Siemens Musikpreis – Wolfgang
Rihm. München, Ernst von Siemens Musikstiftung, p. 101. An abbreviated version
is found at www.nzz.ch/2003/05/24/ li/page-article8UUVT.html (accessed June
2017). The Webern allusion was already brought up in Musik nachdenken, the
discussions between Brinkmann and Rihm published in 2001. Brinkmann stresses
the fact that Rihm was not aware of it and Rihm adds that he did not claim of dream
it nor of meaning it as systematic art making. R. Brinkmann & W. Rihm, (2001).
Musik nachdenken. Regensburg, ConBrio, p. 103. In his analysis of the Hölderlin-
Fragmente, Brinkmann also relates Webern’s chord to Schönberg’s String Quartet op.
10. Therefore, he defines it as an example of intertextuality. R. Brinkmann (2004). ‘“…
wie Wolken um die Zeit legt …”. Über Intertextualität in Rihms Hölderlin-Fragmente’.
In: U. Tadday (ed.). Wolfgang Rihm. Musik-Konzepte, München, edition text + kritik,
pp. 132-133.
2 S. Brodsky (Autumn 2004), ‘Write the Moment’: Two Ways of Dealing with Wolfgang
Rihm, part 1, The Musical Times, vol. 145 no. 1888, p. 57.
3 R. McGregor (2018, in press). ‘“The explosion arrived at the body”: Wolfgang Rihm’s
Creative Explosion of 1981’. In: R. McGregor (ed). Wolfgang Rihm. Contemporary
Music Review, Special Issue.
4 A. Williams (2013). Music in Germany since 1968. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press
5 A. Reimann (1979). ‘Salut für die junge Avantgarde’, Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, vol.
140 no. 1, p. 25.
6 W. Rihm (1977), “‘Neue Einfachheit‘ – Aus- und Einfälle”, in: Hifi-Stereophonie, vol.
16 no. 4, p. 420. Reprinted in: U. Mosch (ed.) ausgesprochen. Schriften und Gespräche.
Winterthur, Amadeus, 1997, vol. 1, p. 354.
7 W. Rihm (1997). ‘Zeichen: Doubles, eine Musik für zwei Soloisten und zwei
Orchestergruppen (1982-1985)’. In: ausgesprochen. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 343.
8 D. Schmidt (2016). ‘Die Behauptung des Autors’. In: T. Seedorf (ed.). Klangbeschreibung.
Zur Interpretation der Musik Wolfgang Rihms. Sinzig, Studio Verlag, p. 53.
9 Y. Knockaert, vide infra, chapter 11, Group Formation: Chiffre Cycle, The meaning of
‘Chiffre’.
301
10 A. Williams (2010). ‘Postlude: Helmut Lachenmann, Wolfgang Rihm and the

Austro-German Tradition’. In: M. Paddison (ed.). Contemporary Music, Theoretical
and Philosophical Perspectives. Surrey, Ashgate, p. 369. See also A. Williams, Music in
Germany since 1968, op. cit. Chapter IV deals with Rihm and is entitled ‘Music and
signs: Wolfgang Rihm’.
11 B. Zuber (2018, in press). ‘“Nulli sua forma manebat”: Wolfgang Rihm’s orchestral
pieces Verwandlung 1 and 6’. In: R. McGregor (ed). Wolfgang Rihm. Contemporary
Music Review, Special Issue.
12 Discussed further by Y. Knockaert, vide infra, chapter 3, Musical Traces, Allusion to
a Composer: Varèse.
13 A. McGregor, (2007), BBC [CD] ‘Wolfgang Rihm. Volume 1 Review’: http://www.
bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/3mf9/ (accessed June 2017)
14 Quoted in the publisher’s webpage note for the work: http://www.universaledition.
com/composers-and-works/Wolfgang-Rihm/composer/599/work/2341. Translation
by Grant Chorley. Accessed June 2017.
15 Publisher’s note for 2. Doppelgesang: http://www.universaledition.com/composers-
and-works/Wolfgang-Rihm/composer/599/work/276. Translation by Grant Chorley.
Accessed June 2017.
16 Rihm interviewed by Laurie Shulman prior to first performance of 3. Doppelgesang
in Minneapolis in 2005, http://www.universaledition.com/composers-and-works/
Wolfgang-Rihm/composer/599/work/12126. Translation by Grant Chorley. Accessed
June 2017.
17 W. Rihm, ausgesprochen. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 61.
18 Several brief sketches exist for a setting of Ich sehe hinauf: in the 1980/81 sketchbook
and on small loose-leaf manuscript dated IV.81 (both in the Rihm Sammlung at the
Paul Sacher Stiftung in Basle), as well an apparent beginning on the back page of
the score of Umhergetrieben, aufgewirbelt. In 1983 Rihm revised 5. Abgesangsszene
to include a setting of this for soprano and baritone, and he used the text again in
Umsungen, completed in 1984. For the text see http://gutenberg.spiegel.de/buch/
friedrich-wilhelm-nietzsche-lieder-des-prinzen-vogelfrei-3256/5 (accessed June
2017). The emboldening is mine.
19 See A. Williams. ‘Voices of the Other: Wolfgang Rihm’s Music Drama Die Eroberung
von Mexico’. Journal of the Royal Musical Association, vol. 129 (2004) no. 2, 240-271
and also see M. Zenck (2003). ‘Die ästhetische Productivkraft des Fantastischen und
des Wahnsinns im Werk Wolfgang Rihms’. In: W. Hofer (ed.). Ausdruck, Zugriff,
Differenzen: Der Komponist Wolfgang Rihm. Mainz, Schott, pp. 57-82.
20 As noted by A. Williams in Music in Germany since 1968, op. cit., p. 149.
21 W.M. Faust, ‘Arte Cifra? Neue Subjektivität? Trans-Avantgarde?: Aspekte der
italienischen Gegenwartskunst’. Kunstforum International, ‘Idylle oder Itensität’, vol
39 (1980), pp. 161-71. See http://www.kunstforum.de for access to the text.
22 See http://www/kettererkunst.de/lexikon/transavanguardia-und-arte-cifra.php,
accessed June 2017.
23 https://new.artsmia.org/exhibition/die-neuen-wilden-neo-expressionism-in-
germany. Accessed June 2017.
24 Zeitgegenstände – Wolfgang Rihm, Musik Baut Europa, Exhibition at the Städtische
Galerie Karlsruhe, 2012.
Notes - Introduction 303
25 A. Williams, Music in Germany since 1968, op. cit., pp. 149-50.

26 See note 16.
Introduction
1 Dates of composition are given the first time a composition is mentioned, except for
the analysed string quartets and the Chiffre cycle: detailed information can be found
at the end of the Introduction.
2 W. Rihm, E. Poppe & M. Wiegandt (2012). Gesprächsrunde, Musikhochschule
Karlsruhe, iTunesU. https://itunes.apple.com/de/itunesu/gesprachsrunde-
wolfgangrihm/id514305891? mmt=10. Downloaded 20130506. All translations are
by the author unless noted otherwise.
3 W. Rihm (1978). ‘Der geschockte Komponist’. In: U. Mosch (1997, ed.) & W. Rihm.
ausgesprochen. Schriften und Gespräche. Winterthur, Amadeus, 2 vol., vol. 1, p. 43.
Further abbreviated to ‘ausgesprochen’. Most of the essays in ausgesprochen bear a
double date, the first one referring to the year of (first) publication of the original
text and the second one referring to the moment of editing in preparation for
ausgesprochen. Ulrich Mosch confirms that the editing corrections were minimal
(Meeting with Mosch, Basle, 12 June 2012). Therefore only the original dates are
given in the footnotes.
4 W. Rihm (2002). ‘Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch’. Interview by Christoph von
Blumröder, Eike Fess and Imke Misch. In: I. Misch & C. von Blumröder (2006, eds.).
Komposition und Musikwissenschaft im Dialog V (2001-2004). Berlin, Lit Verlag, p.
78.
5 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Mittendrin’. Interview by Rudolf Frisius. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p.
86.
6 W. Rihm (1980). ‘La musique creuse le ciel’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 316.
7 W. Rihm (1988). ‘Fragment und Wahrheit’. Interview by Andreas Raseghi and Martin
Wilkening. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, pp. 209-210.
8 J. Brügge (2004). Wolfgang Rihms Streichquartette. Saarbrücken, Pfau, pp. 374-375.
9 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Spur, Faden. Zur Theorie des musikalischen Handwerks’. In:
ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 69, 76.
10 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 343.
11 B. Kutschke (1997). ‘Anmerkungen zu Wolfgang Rihms Werken für Streichquartett’.
In: B. Krüger (ed.). Programmheft der 47. Berliner Festwochen 1997, pp. 10-21. J.
Brügge (2004). Op. cit., pp. 336-348. Brügge includes a table with Allusionen on pp.
340-341.
12 W. Rihm (1995). ‘Mitteilungen zu Vers une symphonie fleuve.’ In: ausgesprochen, vol.
2, p. 402. The concept of ‘flow’ is also one of the main issues in Rihm’s interview on
the occasion of the Ernst von Siemens-Musikpreis in 2003: W. Rihm (2003). ‘Man
darf in der Musik nicht klein denken’. Wolfgang Rihm über musikalischen Fluss,
Bewegung des Denkens und die Erwartungen der Öffentlichkeit. Interview by Max
Nyffeler. Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, vol. 164 no. 2, pp. 60-63.
13 U. Dibelius (2004). ‘Zwischen Obsession und Obstruktion. Zu den Streichquartetten
von Wolfgang Rihm’. In: U. Tadday (ed.). Wolfgang Rihm. Musik-Konzepte, München,
edition text + kritik, p. 62.

14 W. Rihm (2002). ‘Musik ist nie bei sich’, Interview by Stefan Fricke. In: B.O. Polzer &
T. Schäfer (eds.). Katalog Wien Modern 2002. Saarbrücken, Pfau, p. 15.
15 U. Dibelius (2004). Op. cit., p. 61.
16 B. Kutschke (2002). Wildes Denken in der Neuen Musik. Die Idee vom Ende der
Geschichte bei Theodor W. Adorno und Wolfgang Rihm. Würzburg, Königshausen &
Neumann, p. 29.
17 B. Zuber (2008). Blick zurück nach vorn. Werklandschaften. Zu Wolfgang Rihms
‘Jagden und Formen’. MusikTexte, no. 118, pp. 10-11.
18 J. Brügge (2004). Op. cit., p. 8.
19 For a broader approach and some general statements on the ‘(im)possibility’ of
systemlessness see: Y. Knockaert (2004). ‘Systemlessness in Music. Composing
without a System: a Comparative Study of Systemlessness in the Works of John
Cage, Morton Feldman and Wolfgang Rihm.’ In: P. Dejans (ed.). Order and Disorder.
Music-Theoretical Strategies in 20th-century Music. Leuven, Leuven University Press,
Collected Writings of the Orpheus Institute, vol. 4, pp. 53-104.
20 W. Rihm (2002). Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch mit Josef Häusler. Jagden und Formen,
Deutsche Grammophon 471558-2, CD booklet, p. 25. English translation by Stewart
Spencer, p. 12.
Analysed Compositions
1 W. Rihm (2011). Catalogue. Vienna, Universal Edition. For the division in sections of
the analysed compositions see Appendix p. 297ff.
1 Between Classical and Individual

1 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Tradition et authenticité’. Interview by Wolfgang Korb. In: P.
Boulez (ed.). Musique et authenticité. InHarmoniques, no. 7. Paris, IRCAM, p. 44; R.
Brinkmann & W. Rihm (2001). Musik nachdenken. Regensburg, ConBrio, pp. 54-57;
W. Rihm (2013). ‘Akustischer Blick. Darmstädter Ferienkurse 2012: Wolfgang Rihm
im Gespräch’. MusikTexte, no. 136, p. 11.
W. Rihm (1981). ‘Musik – Malerei. … ungereimt, zur Kunst gedacht…’ In:
ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 134.
2 U. Mosch (2001). ‘“… das Dröhnen der Bild- und Farbflächen…” Zum Verhältnis von
Wolfgang Rihm und Kurt Kocherscheidt’. In: H. Liesbrock (ed.). Brustrauschen. Zum
Werkdialog von Kurt Kocherscheidt und Wolfgang Rihm. Ostfildern-Ruit, Hatje Cantz,
p. 77.
3 In the conversations with Reinhold Brinkmann it is clear that Rihm is not experienced
with set theory. R. Brinkmann & W. Rihm (2001). Op. cit., pp. 111-115. Analysing
harmonic aggregates, I could not find any reference to set theory. My trials to
confront Rihm’s harmony (chord chains) with the basic concepts of transformational
theory and Neo-Riemannian group formation (based on publications by R. Cohn, J.
Hook and M. Siciliano) were unsuccessful. Other musicologists have also developed
Notes - 1 Between Classical and Individual 305
a specific analytical tool for Rihm’s music. Barbara Zuber concentrates on Gestalt
developments referring to Ulrich Mosch, on Gestalt des Wandels referring to Rihm’s
own comments and on intertextuality. Judy Lochhead presents a graphic description
of Rihm’s Am Horizont in the context of Deleuze’s philosophy. In her recent publication
Reconceiving Structure in Contemporary Music: New Tools in Music Theory and
Analysis, Lochhead proposes alternatives to analytical approaches developed in the
mid-20th century, because, while music itself has developed and musical aesthetics
have been in constant transformation, analytical tools have changed little since then.
Gianmario Borio is convinced that parameters can no longer be considered one by
one in an analytical approach (see p. 69).
4 W. Welsch (1993). Unsere postmoderne Moderne. Berlin, Akademie Verlag, p. 25.
5 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Gebild’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 327.
6 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 328.
7 W. Rihm (1989). ‘Der generative Pol. Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch mit Peter
Sloterdijk’. Österreichische Musikzeitschrift, vol. 44 no. 6, p. 284.
8 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Dunkles Spiel’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 386.
9 W. Rihm (2003). ‘Man darf in der Musik nicht klein denken’. Op. cit., pp. 60-61. W.
Rihm (2012). ‘Was Musik wirklich ist…’. Interview by Achim Heidenreich. Neue
Zeitschrift für Musik, vol. 173 no. 3, p. 8. For Richard McGregor the use of the term
‘generative pole’ ‘avoids the notion of development but at the same time implies a
sense of progression’. He believes that it is possible to apply the term ‘generative pole’
to earlier pieces: to the Fourth String Quartet and the chamber opera Jakob Lenz.
Therefore, he modifies the definition: a generative pole can be ‘a thematic motif ’, such
as the opening motif of the first movement of the Fourth String Quartet. He creates
the English neologism ‘repoled’ for generated elements: “A repoled idea essentially
transforms a preceding idea while retaining the essence of that idea in some form.”
R. McGregor (2007). Interpreting Compositional Process in Wolfgang Rihm’s Chiffre
Cycle. Frankfurter Zeitschrift für Musikwissenschaft, Online-Publication, p. 29, 31,
33, 40. http://www.european-musicology.eu/assets/Volumes/2007/20073a.pdf,
http://www.european-musicolog y.eu/assets/Volumes/2007/20073b.pdf.
Downloaded 20120122. As far as I can see, Rihm himself has made use of the term
“repoled” (umgepolt) only once, not around 1983 but much later, in 2000: “’Looking
through earlier pieces’ evokes the usual ‘mixed feelings’, the components of which
might appear in an altered, re-poled constellation the day after.” W. Rihm (2000).
Triobeschreibung: Rihm. Interview by Wolfgang Hofer. Kairos 0012092KAI, CD
booklet, p. 12. English translation by Peter Ian Waugh, p. 20. It must be said that
Rihm was reusing his own material already in the 1970s. As Dorothea Ruthemeier
points out, the rhythm of a phrase (bars 164-179, cello and double bass) of Dis-
Kontur (1974, for orchestra) returns at the beginning (bars 2-7) of Klavierstück Nr.
5, Tombeau (1975), which is clearly indicated by Rihm on a sketch. D. Ruthemeier
(2012). Antagonismus oder Konkurrenz? Zu zentralen Werkgruppen der 1980er Jahre
von Wolfgang Rihm und Matthias Spahlinger. Schliengen, Argus, pp. 178-181.
10 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Musikalische Freiheit’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 24.
W. Rihm (2012). ‘Was Musik wirklich ist…’. Op. cit., p. 8.
11 According to Wolfgang Schaufler, next to Blaubuch, material from his Ninth
String Quartet, Quartettsatz is also quoted and overwritten. W. Schaufler (2009).
“CONCERTO”. Kairos 0012952KAI, CD booklet, p. 10.
12 D. Ender (2011). ‘Übermalung? Montage? Wucherung? Strategien und Wege

kompositorischer Selbstbearbeitung in neuer Musik’. Österreichische Musikzeitschrift,
vol. 66 no. 1, p. 34.
13 W. Rihm (1976). ‘Alexanderlieder’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 301; W. Rihm
(1977). ‘cuts and dissolves’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 307; W. Rihm (1984). ‘Ein
obligates Rezitativ. Zu: Vorgefühle’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 339; W. Rihm (1978).
‘Klavierstück Nr. 6 (Bagatellen)’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 315.
14 W. Rihm (1989). ‘Notiz. Zu: Frau/Stimme.’ In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 384.
15 W. Rihm (2011). Fetzen. Winter & Winter 910 178-2. Reference to additional
information in the CD booklet: http://www.winterandwinter.com/index.
php?id=1731. Downloaded 201407. Translation: Winter & Winter.
16 ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 5.
17 The term ‘Through-composed’ (Durchkomponiert) is defined as in Grove Music
Online: “A term describing a composition with a relatively uninterrupted continuity
of musical thought and invention”. I. Rumbold (2015). ‘Through-composed’. In:
Grove Music Online. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Downloaded 20150320.
18 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Musikalische Freiheit’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 31.
19 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 343-345.
20 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Neo-Tonalität?’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 189.
21 Richard McGregor prefers the term “focus pitch” in his analysis of the Chiffre cycle,
and defines it as follows: “Often these pitches are isolated in unison or in octaves as
discrete entities, and while they represent a point of harmonic and thematic stasis in
the music they will normally have a dynamic envelope which ensures that the sound
itself is not static.” R. McGregor (2007). Op. cit., p. 59.
22 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Mittendrin’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 86.
23 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Chiffre VI’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 342.
24 W. Rihm (1978). ‘Ins eigene Fleisch…’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 115.
25 W. Rihm (2002). ‘Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch’. Op. cit., pp. 64-65.
26 W. Rihm (1981). ‘Varèse, Malerei und Schaffensprozeß’. Interview by Wilhelm
Matejka. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 64.
27 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Was ist Musik?’ In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, pp. 144-145.
28 W. Rihm (1978). ‘Der geschockte Komponist’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 50.
29 W. Rihm (1981). ‘Musik – Malerei. … ungereimt, zur Kunst gedacht…’ Op. cit., vol.
1, p. 135; W. Rihm (1997). Bilder – Echo. Wolfgang Rihm – Kurt Kocherscheidt. Wergo
WER 6623-2, CD booklet. English translation by Steven Lindberg, pp. 15-16.
30 W. Rihm (1986). ‘Laudatio auf Karlheinz Stockhausen’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p.
325.
31 K. Stockhausen (1963). ‘Momente’. In: K. Stockhausen (1971). Texte zur Musik 1963-
1970. Cologne, DuMont Schauberg, vol. 3, p. 31.
32 Asked about the function and importance of his sketches during the Klangbeschreibung
conference at the Musikhochschule in Karlsruhe, April 2012, Rihm confirmed that
the only function of his sketches is the “memo”, joking about the fact that drawings,
caricatures, phone numbers, appointments and other data (without any relation to
his music) can also be noted on the same memo-page.
33 Except for some more elaborate sketches, such as the sketches for the opening motif
Notes - 2 Between Modernism and Postmodernism 307
of the Fourth String Quartet, as analysed by Joachim Brügge. J. Brügge (2004). Op.
cit., pp. 214-267.
34 The collection of Rihm’s sketches is archived at the Paul Sacher Stiftung in Basel. Next
to the labelled sketches for each composition, there are sketchbooks for the 1980s:
Skizzenbuch 1980, Skizzenbuch 1983-1986, Skizzenbuch 1984-1986, Skizzenbuch
1986-1987, Skizzenbuch 1982-1989.
35 For instance: J. Brügge (2004). Op. cit., p. 221 (fn. 340), p. 225 (fn. 343), p. 236 (fn.
351), p. 255 (fn. 371), p. 300 (fn. 483), p. 325 (fn. 541).
36 W. Rihm (2002). Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch mit Josef Häusler. Op. cit., p. 25. English
translation, p. 12.
37 W. Rihm (1985-87). ‘Offene Stellen – Abbiegen ins Andere’. Interview by Reinhold
Urmetzer. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 183.
38 W. Rihm (1986). ‘Gleichzeitigkeit von Heterogenem’. Interview by Konrad Boehmer.
In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 161.
39 W. Rihm. Skizzenbuch 1986-1987, p. 67. A white piece of paper is glued on a part of
the music sheet.
40 W. Rihm (1995). ‘Kunst entsteht aus Zweifel’. Interview by Bas van Putten. In:
41 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Der Taumel der Gegensätze im Gleichgewicht’. Interview by Silvia
Ragni. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 218.
42 W. Rihm (2015). Über die Linie VIII. Work Introduction. http://www.universaledition.
com/ composers-and-works/Wolfgang-Rihm/composer/599/work/15726.
Downloaded 20160622.
43 W. Rihm (1986). ‘Laudatio auf Karlheinz Stockhausen’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 325.
2 Between Modernism and Postmodernism

1 Suche nach einem neuen Schönheitsideal was the title of von Bose’s lecture during the
Internationale Ferienkurse für Neue Musik in 1978. On the same occasion, Rihm gave
his lecture Der geschockte Komponist. It was the very first time that he mentioned
systemlos komponieren and stressed the value of unsystematische Musik.
2 W. Rihm (1977). ‘“Neue Einfachheit” – Aus- und Einfälle’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1,
pp. 354-356.
3 This paragraph is based on the following sources: H. Danuser (1984). ‘Moderne,
Postmoderne, Neomoderne – ein Ausblick’. In: C. Dahlhaus (ed.). Die Musik des 20.
Jahrhunderts. Neues Handbuch der Musikwissenschaft, vol. 7. Laaber, Laaber, pp.
392-409; H. Danuser (1991). ‘Postmodernes Musikdenken – Lösung oder Flucht?’ In:
H. Danuser (ed.). Neue Musik im politischen Wandel. Veröffentlichungen des Instituts
für Neue Musik und Musikerziehung, vol. 32. Schott, Mainz, pp. 56-66; H. Danuser
(1989). ‘Zur Kritik der musikalischen Postmoderne’. In: W. Gruhn (ed.). Das Projekt
Moderne und die Postmoderne. Regensburg, Bosse, pp. 69-84; H. de la Motte-Haber
(1989). ‘Merkmale postmoderner Musik’ In: W. Gruhn (ed.). Op. cit., pp. 53-68; H.
de la Motte-Haber (2000). ‘Einleitung. Nebeneinander der Generationen’. In: H. de la
Motte-Haber (ed.). Geschichte der Musik im 20. Jahrhundert: 1975-2000. Handbuch
der Musik im 20. Jahrhundert, vol. 4. Laaber, Laaber, pp. 13-22; J. Tillman (2002).
‘Postmodernism and Art Music in the German Debate’. In: J. Lochhead & J. Auner
(eds.). Postmodern Music / Postmodern Thought. Studies in Contemporary Music and
Culture. New York & London, Routledge, pp. 75-92.
4 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Postmodern? Postmoderne?’ In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 396.
W. Rihm (1988). ‘Avantgarde, Postmoderne, Elektronik und anderes’. Answering
questions by the journal Nomos. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, pp. 390-391.
5 E. Budde (1993). ‘Der Pluralismus der Moderne und/oder die Postmoderne’. In:
O. Kolleritsch (ed.). Wiederaneignung und Neubestimmung. Der Fall ‘Postmoderne’
in der Musik. Studien zur Wertungsforschung, vol. 26. Vienna & Graz, Universal
Edition, p. 50.
6 W. Rihm (ca. 1976). ‘Über Dis-Kontur. Notizen zu einem Vortrag’. In: ausgesprochen,
vol. 2, p. 293. W. Rihm (1978). ‘Der geschockte Komponist’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 50.
7 W. Rihm (1979). ‘Rückkehr zu Unordnung?’ Interview by Luca Lombardi. In:
8 J. Lochhead (2002). ‘Introduction’. In: J. Lochhead & J. Auner (eds.). Op. cit., p. 24.
9 J. Lochhead (2002). ‘Introduction’. In: J. Lochhead & J. Auner (eds). Op. cit., p. 25.
R. Barthes (1968). The Death of the Author. UbuWeb, UbuWeb Papers. http://
www.tbook.constantvzw.org/wp-content/death_authorbarthes.pdf. Downloaded
20150313. Translation by Richard Howard, p. 6.
10 W. Rihm (1989). ‘Achtes Streichquartett’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 371; R. Barthes
(1975). Roland Barthes par Roland Barthes. Paris, Seuil, p. 105.
11 J.-F. Lyotard (1986). Le Postmoderne expliqué aux enfants. Paris, Galilée, p. 30.
12 W. Rihm (ca. 1976). ‘Über Dis-Kontur. Notizen zu einem Vortrag’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 293.
13 G.W. Hopkins & P. Griffiths (2015). ‘Boulez, Pierre’. In: Grove Music Online. Oxford,
Oxford University Press. Downloaded 20150320.
14 A. Williams (2006). ‘Wolfgang Rihm and the Adorno Legacy’. In: B. Hoeckner (ed.).
Apparitions: New Perspectives on Adorno and Twentieth-Century Music. New York &
London, Routledge, p. 98.
15 W. Rihm (2006). Wolfgang Rihm in conversation with Kirk Noreen and Joshua
Cody. http://web.archive.org/web/20060525100029/ and http://www.sospeso.com/
contents/articles/rihm_p1.html, no page numbers. Downloaded 20140507.
16 W. Rihm (1985). ‘… zu wissen’. Interview by Rudolf Frisius. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2,
p. 133.
17 W. Rihm (1981). ‘Musik – Malerei… ungereimt, zur Kunst gedacht…’. Op. cit., vol. 1,
p. 135.
18 W. Rihm (1990). ‘Zu Edgard Varèse – Notiz am 3.vi.1990’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p.
278.
19 W. Rihm (1987). ‘Morton Feldman’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 332.
20 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Con Luigi Nono I’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, pp. 311-313. W. Rihm
(2011). ‘Wo die Begabung haust…’ Interview by Rainer Peters. In: B. Krüger & W.
Hopp (eds.). Journal Musikfest Berlin 2011. Berlin, Berliner Festspiele, pp. 18-19.
21 W. Rihm (1997). ‘Laudatio auf Helmut Lachenmann’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, pp.
341, 344, 347, 348. English translation by Wiland Hoban (2004). Contemporary
Music Review, vol. 23 no. 3/4, pp. 22, 25, 27, 28. Rihm dedicated Gejagte Form to
Lachenmann on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday in 1995.
22 A. Williams (2006). ‘Swaying with Schumann: Subjectivity and Tradition in Wolfgang
Notes - 2 Between Modernism and Postmodernism 309
Rihm’s Fremde Szenen I-III and Related Scores’. Music & Letters, vol. 87 no. 3, p. 384.
23 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Weiter. Für Wilhelm Killmayer’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 335.
24 W. Rihm (1995). ‘Kunst entsteht aus Zweifel’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 244.
P. Sloterdijk (1993). Weltfremdheit. Frankfurt, Suhrkamp.
25 W. Rihm (2003). ‘Chasse à l’homme, à la recherche de Wolfgang Rihm’. Interview by
Eric Denut. Musica falsa, no. 17. Portail de la Musique Contemporaine, Centre de
documentation de la musique contemporaine. http://www.musiquecontemporaine.
fr/record/oai:cdmc.asso.fr:aloes:0034103. Downloaded 20121102.
26 W. Rihm (1989). ‘Der generative Pol. Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch mit Peter
Sloterdijk’. Op. cit., p. 284. The discussion was organised on 7 November 1988,
following a lecture by Sloterdijk: ‘Phantasie über musikalischen Akosmismus’.
27 P. Sloterdijk (1983). Kritik der zynischen Vernunft. Frankfurt, Suhrkamp, p. 7.
28 H.-J. Heinrichs (2011). Peter Sloterdijk. Die Kunst des Philosophierens. München,
Hanser, p. 158.
29 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Notizen zur Tutuguri-Musik’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 326.
30 P. Sloterdijk (1998). Sphären I. Blasen. Frankfurt, Suhrkamp, pp. 527-531.
31 H.-J. Heinrichs (2011). Op. cit., p. 158; P. Sloterdijk (2007). ‘Wo sind wir wenn wir
Musik hören’. In: Der ästhetische Imperativ. Schriften zur Kunst. Bodenheim, Philo-
Verlag, p. 52, 56; P. Sloterdijk (2007). ‘La musique retrouvée’. In: Der ästhetische
Imperativ. Schriften zur Kunst. Bodenheim, Philo-Verlag, p. 11; P. Sloterdijk (1999).
Sphären II. Globen. Frankfurt, Suhrkamp, p. 133.
32 P. Sloterdijk (1998). Sphären I. Blasen. Op. cit., p. 573; W. Rihm (1985). ‘Ohne
Titel (Fünftes Streichquartett)’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 330. For the sake of
completeness: there is also an image with Alberto Giacometti sculpting; a portrait
of Joseph Beuys, the artist “as an artwork”, and a photo of Wolfgang Rihm and Kurt
Kocherscheidt with (a part of) an artwork by Kocherscheidt in the background (vol.
1, p. 92; vol. 2, p. 366 and 406, respectively).
33 A. Artaud (1936). Le Théâtre de Séraphin. http://les.tresors.de.lys.free.fr/antonin_
artaud/le_theatre_de_seraphin.htm. Downloaded 20141125; W. Rihm (1992).
‘Mexiko, Eroberungsnotiz’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 389; P. Sloterdijk (1998).
Sphären I. Blasen. Op. cit., pp. 419-465. Chapter 6: ‘Seelenraumteiler. Engel – Zwillinge
– Doppelgänger’. In ‘Wo sind wir, wenn wir Musik hören’ (mentioned above),
Sloterdijk goes even further: “Die Engel stellt man sich zu Recht als Musizierende vor
– sie klingen nur, sie hören nichts. Wären sie Hörende, so glichen sie uns. Wir aber
sind zur Musik verdammt wie zur Sehnsucht und zur Freiheit.” P. Sloterdijk (2007).
‘Wo sind wir, wenn wir Musik hören’. Op. cit., p. 63.
34 A. Artaud (1936). ‘Lettre à Jean Paulhan, 25 janvier 1936’. In: A. Artaud (1964).
Œuvres complètes. Paris, Gallimard, vol. 5, p. 272.
35 W. Rihm (1982). ‘Notizen zur Tutuguri-Musik’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 327.
W. Rihm (2008). ‘Vibrierende Luftsäulen. Wolfgang Rihm zu seinen Séraphin-
Kompositionen’. Interview by Andreas Günther. In: B. Krüger (ed.). Journal Musikfest
Berlin 2008. Berlin, Berliner Festspiele, p. 32; W. Rihm (1987). ‘Arie über die
Bildzeitung’. Interview by Thomas Delekat. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 35; W. Rihm
(1983). ‘Chiffre I – Silence to Be Beaten (Chiffre II) – Chiffre III’. In: ausgesprochen, vol.
2, p. 331.
36 W. Rihm (1982). ‘Während der Arbeit an Tutuguri’. Interview by Hartmut Lück. In:

37 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Webern, 20. Oktober 1983’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 277.
38 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus.’ Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 345.
39 W. Rihm (1993). ‘Musik – das innere Ausland’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 409.
40 W. Rihm (1987). ‘Arie über die Bildzeitung’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 35.
41 T.W. Adorno (1961). ‘Vers une musique informelle’. In: Quasi una Fantasia. London,
Verso, pp. 269-322.
42 T.W. Adorno (2002). Aesthetic Theory. London & New York, Continuum. Translation
by Robert Hullot-Kentor. Originally published in German: Aesthetische Theorie,
1970.
43 T.W. Adorno (2002). Op. cit., pp. 95, 118-122, 136-140, 157.
44 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Musikalische Freiheit’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 27.
45 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Spur, Faden. Zur Theorie des musikalischen Handwerks’. Op. cit.,
vol. 1, p. 72.
46 W. Rihm (1985-86). ‘Tonalität. Klischee – Umwertung – Versuch’, In: ausgesprochen,
vol. 1, p. 207.
47 R. Brinkmann & W. Rihm (2001). Op. cit., pp. 28-29.
48 Quoted by Rihm in his laudatory speech for Boulez. W. Rihm (1992). ‘Laudatio auf
Pierre Boulez’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 301.
49 T.W. Adorno (1961). Op. cit., pp. 273, 290-293.
50 T.W. Adorno (1961). Op. cit., p. 322. Gianmario Borio and Max Paddison have
stressed the fact that Adorno was much more inspired by fine arts than by music
for his concept of “informal music”. M. Paddison (2010, ed.). Contemporary Music,
Theoretical and Philosophical Perspectives. Surrey, Ashgate, pp. 5-6; G. Borio (1993).
Musikalische Avantgarde um 1960. Laaber, Laaber, pp. 77-95, 102-109.
51 T.W. Adorno (1961). Op. cit., pp. 273.
52 G. Borio (1993). Op. cit., pp. 87-88.
53 A. Whittall (2015). ‘Form’. In: Grove Music Online. Oxford, Oxford University Press.
54 A. Williams (2006). ‘Wolfgang Rihm and the Adorno Legacy’. Op. cit., pp. 86-87.
55 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Tradition et authenticité’. Op. cit., p. 51.
3 Musical Traces
1 W. Rihm (1978). ‘Erscheinung. Skizze über Schubert’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 311.
2 P. Andraschke (1978). ‘Traditionsmomente in Kompositionen von Cristobal Halffter,
Klaus Huber und Wolfgang Rihm’. In: R. Brinkmann (ed.), Die Neue Musik und die
Tradition, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Neue Musik und Musikerziehung
Darmstadt, vol. 19. Mainz, Schott, p. 138.
3 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Im Innersten. Drittes Streichquartett’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p.
304.
4 B. van Putten (2011). Femmes fatales. Program notes Rihm-Resonanz, Zaterdag
matinee, Concertgebouw Amsterdam, 10 December 2011, pp. 7-9.
Notes - 3 Musical Traces 311
5 A. Köhler (2011). Wolfgang Rihm ‘Eine Strasse, Lucile’ – Fragen an den Komponisten.
Programmbuch Opernhaus, Badisches Staatstheater, pp. 15-16.
6 W. Rihm (1992). ‘Ernster Gesang’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 415.
7 G. Johnson (2012). Brahms, Fünf Lieder, op. 105. Hyperion CDJ 33124. http://www.
hyperion-records.co.uk/tw.asp?w=W12033. Downloaded 20130622.
8 Mahler: Symphony no. 1, 4th movement (bar 650: Die Holzinstrumente Schalltr. in
die Höhe); Symphony no. 2, 1st movement (bar 41: tpt; 43: ob, cl, tpt; 280: ob, cl;
291: tpt; 304: hn; 317: hn; 357: ob, Eng hn, cl), 3rd movement (bar 270: tpt; 287: cl;
443: ob, cl) and 5th movement (bar 3: hn, tpt; 5: tpt, trbn; 162: hn; 238: ob, cl; 248:
hn; 497: hn; 712: tpt, trbn; 721: hn). Zemlinsky: Lyrische Symphonie, 2nd movement
(RN (=rehearsal number) 30: tpt; 32: hn) and 6th movement (RN 104: tpt; 124:
tpt). Stravinsky: Le Sacre du Printemps: Jeu du rapt (RN 45: hn pavillons en l’air),
Glorification de l’élue (RN 106: hn; 116: hn), Action rituelle des ancêtres (RN 134: hn;
138: hn) and Danse sacrale (L’Elue) (RN 176: hn; 183: hn). Berg: Wozzeck, Act I, scene
5, bar 709: tpt; Altenberglieder, 1. Seele, wie bist du schöner (bar 27: hn) and 5. Hier
ist Friede (bar 24: tpt). Varèse: Intégrales, final bars, final chord: brass instruments
pavillons en l’air.
9 /1-2: indication of the beats in the specified bar.
10 E. Fess (2011). ‘Spuren des Romantischen im Werk Wolfgang Rihms’. In: T.
Hünermann & C. von Blumröder (eds.), Topographien der Kompositionsgeschichte
seit 1945. Series Signale aus Köln, vol. 16. Wien, Der Apfel, pp. 184-185; J. Brügge
(2004). Op. cit., p. 167, 174, 180.
11 In Bach’s Third Brandenburg Concerto, 1st movement, the chromatic shifting chords
in regular semiquavers (and quavers for the bass instruments) are found in bars 87-
90. Another moment of accentuated chords in quavers (bars 97-99) is varied in bars
119-122, just after the unique descent in semiquavers into the deepest tessitura of the
bass instruments.
12 On Varèse: W. Rihm (1981). ‘Varèse, Malerei und Schaffensprozeß’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p.
63, 65; W. Rihm (1983). ‘Musikalische Freiheit’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 23; W. Rihm (1985).
‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 344; W. Rihm (1986). ‘Gleichzeitigkeit
von Heterogenem’. Op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 165-166; W. Rihm (1987). ‘Musik zu Sprache
bringen’. Interview by Heinz Josef Herbort. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 204; W. Rihm
(1987). ‘Arie über die Bildzeitung’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 35; W. Rihm (1987). ‘Gangarten,
Hamletmaschine, Brief an P.O’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 353; W. Rihm (1988). ‘Kein
Firmament’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 371; W. Rihm (1990). ‘Improvisation über
das Fixieren von Freiheit’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, pp. 94-95; W. Rihm (1990). ‘Zu
Edgard Varèse’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 278.
13 Other grand pauses in Arcana are simply indicated as Vuota (Italian for “empty”),
without instruction for the conductor. In opposition to Rihm’s statement, in the
Varèse editions I consulted, this indication was not found beside this unique note in
Arcana.
14 U. Mosch (2006). “Taking Sound in Hand”: Wolfgang Rihm and Varèse.’ In: F. Meyer
& H. Zimmermann (eds.). Edgard Varèse. Composer, Sound Sculptor, Visionary. Basel,
Paul Sacher Foundation & Woodbridge, Suffolk, The Boudell Press, pp. 434-435, 440.
15 W. Rihm (1978). ‘Der geschockte Komponist’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 44.
16 W. Rihm (1981). ‘Ferruccio Busoni’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 263. Alastair Williams
believes that Varèse was “exerting the strongest influence”, more specifically for the
recalling of “modernist idioms” in the Chiffre cycle. This influence is most audible in
the “blocks of internally clashing brass”, sounding like Varèse in Chiffre II. Williams
categorises this as the composer’s “networks and evocation”, because in his opinion
Rihm is not concerned with allusions in the Chiffre cycle. A. Williams (2013). Music
in Germany since 1968. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, pp. 189, 192-193.
17 In brackets: the number indicates the number of semitones; + or – indicates ascending
or descending interval.
18 Rihm: starting 15, 9, 5 bars respectively before the end of Chiffre III; Varèse: starting
11, 8, 7 bars respectively before the end of Intégrales.
19 On Rihm’s allusions to Schubert see Y. Knockaert (2018, in press). ‘Rihm and
Schubert’. In: R. McGregor, (ed.). Wolfgang Rihm. Contemporary Music Review,
Special Issue.
4 Fine Arts
1 W. Rihm (2015). Über die Linie VIII. Work Introduction. http://www.universaledition.
com/ composers-and-works/Wolfgang-Rihm/composer/599/work/15726.
2 Rihm’s title Geheimer Block (1988-89) is inspired by Beuys’s The Secret Block for a
Secret Person in Ireland; W. Rihm (1987). ‘Klangbeschreibung – Drei Stücke’. In:
ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 366; W. Rihm (1981). ‘L’art pour l’art’. In: ausgesprochen, vol.
1, p. 369.
3 W. Rihm (1981). ‘Musik – Malerei. … ungereimt, zur Kunst gedacht…’. Op. cit., vol.
1, p. 130. A shortened version of this essay is reprinted in: W. Rihm (1997). Bilder –
Echo. Wolfgang Rihm – Kurt Kocherscheidt. Op. cit., pp. 1-7. English translation by
Steven Lindberg, p. 11.
4 W. Rihm (1981). ‘Musik – Malerei… ungereimt, zur Kunst gedacht…’. Op. cit., vol. 1,
p. 132.
5 P. Vergo (2010). The Music of Painting. New York, Phaidon, pp. 9, 85, 87, 344.
6 M. Feldman (1972). Rothko Chapel. In: W. Zimmermann (1985). Morton Feldman
Essays. Kerpen, Beginner Press, p. 141.
7 D. Rexroth (2004). ‘Werk und Titel bei Wolfgang Rihm’. In: U. Tadday (ed.). Op. cit.,
p. 98.
8 U. Dibelius (2004). Op. cit., p. 62.
9 U. Mosch (2001). Op. cit., p. 70, 74.
1, pp. 130-136; W. Rihm (1981). ‘Varèse, Malerei und Schaffensprozeß’. Op. cit., vol.
2, pp. 63-68.
11 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Im Innersten. Drittes Streichquartett’. Op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 304-305.
12 W. Rihm (1990). ‘Musik vor Bildern’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, pp. 415-418.
13 W. Rihm (2011). Catalogue. Op. cit., p. 37.
14 W. Rihm (1984/85). ‘Musik ist... Aus einem Briefwechsel von Hans Heinrich
Eggebrecht und Wolfgang Rihm’. In: D. Rexroth (1985, ed.). Der Komponist Wolfgang
Rihm. Mainz, Schott, p. 86.
Notes - 4 Fine Arts 313
1, pp. 130-131.
16 R. Champagne (1984). Literary History in the Wake of Roland Barthes: Re-defining the
Myths of Reading. Birmingham, Alabama, Summa, p. 104.
17 The words con amore are written with the tip of the bow on the score (bar 273).
Joachim Brügge gives an autobiographical interpretation to these words, referring to
the quartet’s dedication Für Uta; J. Brügge (2004). Op. cit., p. 315 (fn. 535). Brügge is
referring to W. Rihm (1990). ‘Musik vor Bildern’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 418.
1, p. 133.
19 E. Morat (2001). ‘Gespräch mit Wolfgang Rihm’. in: H. Liesbrock (ed.). Op. cit., p. 94.
20 W. Rihm (1981). ‘Varèse, Malerei und Schaffensprozeß’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 64.
W. Rihm (1981). ‘Musik – Malerei. … ungereimt, zur Kunst gedacht…’. Op. cit., vol.
1, p. 131.
21 U. Mosch (2004). Op. cit., pp. 27-29.
22 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Ohne Titel Fünftes Streichquartett’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 329.
23 W. Rihm (1984). ’Notizen zur Tutuguri-Musik’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 327.
24 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Ohne Titel. Fünftes Streichquartett’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 329.
25 Ulrich Mosch sees it the other way round: he describes the tremolo of the violins as
“disturbed” by the energetic interventions of the viola and the cello. U. Mosch (2001).
Op. cit., pp. 77-79.
26 W. Rihm (2006). Wolfgang Rihm in conversation with Kirk Noreen and Joshua Cody.
Op. cit.
27 W. Rihm (2008). ‘Vibrierende Luftsäulen. Wolfgang Rihm zu seinen Séraphin-
Kompositionen’. Op. cit., p. 32.
translation, p. 8.
translation, p. 9.
30 B. Zuber (2008). Blick zurück nach vorn. Werklandschaften. Zu Wolfgang Rihms
Jagden und Formen. Op. cit., pp. 7-14.
Also: B. Zuber (2008). ‘Übermalungen, Fortschreibungen, Neufassungen. Zum
Verhältnis von Text und Prätext in Wolfgang Rihms Werk der 90er Jahre’. In: G.
Buschmeier, U. Konrad & A. Riethmüller (eds.). Transkription und Fassung in
der Musik des 20. Jahrhunderts. Beiträge des Kolloquiums in der Akademie der
Wissenschaften und der Literatur, Mainz, 5-6 März 2004. Stuttgart, Franz Steiner
Verlag, pp. 45-59.
31 W. Rihm (2003). ‘Man darf in der Musik nicht klein denken’. Op. cit., p. 60.
32 W. Schaufler (2009). Op. cit., p. 10. English translation by Christopher Roth, p. 14.
33 W. Rihm (2002). ‘Musik ist nie bei sich’. Interview by Stefan Fricke. Op. cit., p. 18.
34 R. Brinkmann (2004). ‘“… Wie Wolken um die Zeit legt …”. Über Intertextualität in
Rihms Hölderlin-Fragmenten.’ In: U. Tadday (ed.). Op. cit., p. 133.
35 H. Liesbrock (2001, ed.). Op. cit., p. 94, 108, 135.
36 W. Rihm (1983), ‘Ohne Titel. Fünftes Streichquartett’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 329.
37 V. Loers (2013). ‘Der Grosse Unbekannte’. Interview by Gesine Borcherdt. In Art.
Das Kunstmagazin, 30 October 2013. http://www.art-magazin.de/kunst/66716/

veit_loers_interview. On the occasion of a retrospective in the Essl Museum,
Klosterneuburg, Austria. Downloaded 20141213.
38 W. Rihm (2013). ‘Akustischer Blick. Darmstädter Ferienkurse 2012: Wolfgang Rihm
im Gespräch’. Op. cit., p. 9.
39 Barbara Niemann describes all percussion instruments in detail, adding their
original function for messages or rituals. However, her conclusion is that in this case
it is not about an adaptation of an extra-European music culture. B. Niemann (2013).
Die musikalische Bearbeitung des ‘Ödipus’-Stoffes durch Wolfgang Rihm. München,
Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, pp. 156-158.
40 W. Rihm (1986). ‘Gleichzeitigkeit von Heterogenem.’ Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 172.
41 U. Mosch (1998). ‘Zur Rolle bildnerischen Vorstellungen im musikalischen
Denken und Komponieren Wolfgang Rihms’. In: H. de la Motte-Haber & R. Kopiez
(eds.). Musikwissenschaft zwischen Kunst, Ästhetik und Experiment. Würzburg,
Königshausen & Neumann, p. 387.
42 U. Mosch (2001). Op. cit., p. 87 (fn. 28).
43 I. Toronyi-Lalic (2010). Wolfgang Rihm Day, Barbican. The Arts Desk, Classical
music reviews, news & interviews, 13 March 2010. www.theartsdesk.com/classical-
music/wolfgang-rihm-day-barbican. Downloaded 20120608.
5 Repetition
1 This chapter is a short version of my lecture Wolfgang Rihm – The Meaning of
Repetition, XIIth Congress on Musical Signification, Louvain-la-Neuve, April 2013.
The full text is published in the proceedings: C. Maeder & M. Reybrouck, (eds.).
(2017). Making Sense of Music. Studies in Musical Semiotics. Louvain-la-Neuve,
Presses Universitaires de Louvain.
2 W. Rihm (1992). ‘Kalt’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 387.
3 W. Rihm (1992). ‘Kolchis’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 396.
4 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 343.
5 W. Rihm (1985-87). ‘Offene Stellen – Abbiegen ins Andere’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 195.
7 B.A. Varga (2011). Three Questions for sixty-five Composers. New York, University of
Rochester Press, pp. 212-213.
6 Nature and Proportions

1 W. Rihm (2002). ‘Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch’, Op. cit., p. 78.
2 W. Rihm (2012). ‘Was Musik wirklich ist…’ Op. cit., p. 11.
3 E. Campbell (2013). Music After Deleuze. London & New York, Bloomsbury, 2013.
4 D. Ender (2011). Op. cit., pp. 29-37.
Notes - 7 Studying Proportions 315
5 Dibelius refers to his discussion with Rihm, following his lecture at the Rihm-
Symposium in Salzburg, 11-13 August 2000, published in Musik-Konzepte. U.
Dibelius (2004). Op. cit., p. 6.
6 W. Rihm (2002). ‘Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch’. Op. cit., p. 66.
7 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Dunkles Spiel’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 386.
8 I. Papachristopoulos (2008). ‘Ins Offene… Reflexionen über konstitutive Momente in
Wolfgang Rihms Musik um 1990’. Die Musikforschung, vol. 61, p. 363.
9 W. Rihm (1982). ‘Ich weiß nicht, wer ich bin’. Interview by Heinz Josef Herbort. In:
10 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Der Taumel der Gegensätze im Gleichgewicht’. Op. cit., vol. 2, pp.
213-231.
11 G. Winkler (2003). ‘Das “fluide” Werk und die Krise der Partitur. Zu Wolfgang
Rihms 4. Streichquartett und Über die Linie für Violoncello solo’. In: W. Hofer (ed.).
Ausdruck, Zugriff, Differenzen. Der Komponist Wolfgang Rihm. Mainz, Schott, p. 136,
145 (fn. 6).
12 W. Rihm (2002). ’Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch’. Op. cit., p. 66.
13 W. Rihm (2006). Wolfgang Rihm in conversation with Kirk Noreen and Joshua Cody. Op.
cit. This was already quoted in chapter 2, Between modernism and postmodernism.
14 W. Rihm (1979). ‘Rückkehr zu Unordnung?’ Op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 60-61.
15 E. Top (2003). Analysis String Quartet No. 3 ‘Im Innersten’ of Wolfgang Rihm. http://
home.online.nl/edwardtop/Im%20Innersten/Zwischenspiel.html. Downloaded
20140724.
16 R. McGregor (s.d.). Wolfgang Rihm’s Fourth String Quartet. Unity – Static and
Dynamic. Unpubd; R. McGregor (2007). Op. cit., p. 42.
7 Studying Proportions
1 W. Rihm (1978). ‘Karlheinz Stockhausen, anlässlich Geburtstag und Mantra’. In:
ausgesprochen, vol. 1, pp. 321-322.
2 W. Rihm (1975). ‘Dis-Kontur’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 289.
3 W. Rihm (1979). ‘Paraphrase’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 284.
4 W. Rihm (1974). ‘Klavierstück Nr. 4’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, pp. 287-288.
5 W. Frobenius (1981). ‘Die “Neue Einfachheit” und der bürgerliche Schönheitsbegriff ’.
In: O. Kolleritsch (ed.). Zur ‘Neuen Einfachheit’ in der Musik. Vienna, Universal
Edition, Studien zur Wertforschung, vol. 14, pp. 54-55.
6 W. Rihm (1989/97). ‘Schwebende Begegnung’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 372. Rihm’s
description restricted to the organisation of pitches and intervals.
7 This scale fragment is found retrograde in semiquavers in bar 46 and varied into a
dyad followed by two single tones in bar 71, twice in the harp; that it is not present at
other places makes it more striking.
8 R. McGregor (s.d.): Op. cit., pp. 13-14.
8 Integrated Approach
vol. 1, p. 75.
3 W. Rihm (1991). ’Der Taumel der Gegensätze im Gleichgewicht’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p.
219.
vol. 1, p. 75.
5 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Im Innersten. Drittes Streichquartett’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 304.
6 W. Rihm (1981). ‘Ferruccio Busoni’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 259.
7 The terms “consonance” and “dissonance” are defined in the traditional way.
Consonant intervals are perfect unison, fourth, fifth and octave and minor and major
third and sixth. Dissonant intervals are minor and major second and seventh and
tritone. The term “quasi-noise”, in German Quasi-Geräusch, is also used by Rudolf
Frisius in his analysis of Rihm’s Chiffre I for instance. R. Frisius (2004). ‘Wandlungen
des musikalischen Denkens über Form und Struktur im Spiegel der Musik von
Wolfgang Rihm. Überlegungen am Beispiel von Chiffre I. In: U. Tadday (ed.). Op.
cit., p. 81.
8 S. Mauser (2004). ’Vom Modell zum Prozess. Zur Entwicklung der Klavierstücke
Rihms’. In: U. Tadday (ed.). Op. cit., p. 48. S. Mauser (1985). ‘Primäre Ausdruksformen.
Anmerkungen zum Klavierstück Nr. 7 van Wolfgang Rihm. In: D. Rexroth (ed.). Op.
cit., p. 157.
9 M. Bellheim (2007). Das Klavierwerk von Wolfgang Rihm. Piano Pieces. NEOS,
10717/18, CD booklet, p. 2.
10 A. Williams (2013). Op. cit., p. 174; Also: A. Williams (2010). ‘Postlude: Helmut
Lachenmann, Wolfgang Rihm and the Austro-German Tradition’. In: M. Paddison
(ed.). Op. cit., p. 366.
11 W. Rihm (1986). ‘Laudatio auf Karlheinz Stockhausen’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 325; W. Rihm
(1985). ‘… zu wissen’. Op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 132-133; W. Rihm (1986). ‘Gleichzeitigkeit
von Heterogenem’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 159; W. Rihm (1987). ‘Musik zur Sprache
bringen’. Interview by Heinz Josef Herbort. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 200; W. Rihm
(1985). ‘Berg-Bemerkungen’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 1, p. 283.
12 K. Stockhausen (1963). ‘Momente’. Op. cit., p. 31.
13 For the division in sections of the analysed compositions see Appendix, p. 297ff.
9 Parameter Characteristics
1 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Bratschenkonzert’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 328.
2 W. Rihm (1983). ‘[Erster] Doppelgesang’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 325.
3 The title ‘Canzona’ features more than once in Rihm’s oeuvre: Canzona for 4 violas
(1982), Canzona nuova for 5 violas (1982/2006), Canzona per Sonare, Über die Linie
V for alto trombone and two orchestral groups (2002).
4 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 343.
Notes - 9 Parameter Characteristics 317
5 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Der Taumel der Gegensätze im Gleichgewicht’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p.
219. Regarding the date of the interview, these utterances clearly refer to the string
quartets of the 1980s.
6 It was preceded and prepared by a few shorter solos in bars 17 and 59 without the
dance-like character.
7 To be comprehensive: in his essay on tonality, Rihm gives the overtone series and
the chord on the seventh harmonic as an example of ambiguity in classical tonality,
thereby not referring to his own music. In his comments on early compositions, some
details about harmony and chords are explained, for instance the use of Neapolitan
chord by Schubert in the text on Erscheinung. W. Rihm (1985-86). ‘Tonalität. Klischee
– Umwertung – Versuch’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 205; W. Rihm (1978). ‘Erscheinung, Skizze
über Schubert für neun Streicher und Klavier ad libitum (1978)’. In: ausgesprochen,
vol. 2, p. 313.
8 W. Rihm (1974). ‘In den Spiegel gelauscht… zu: Morphonie (1972/…), Sektor IV für
Orchester mit Solostreichquartett’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 286.
9 W. Rihm (1979). ‘Chiffren von Verstörung. Anmerkungen zu Jakob Lenz’. In:
10 W. Killmayer (1992). ‘Zu Wolfgang Rihms Klavierstück Nr. 6 (Bagatellen)’. In: W.
Killmayer, S. Mauser & W. Rihm (eds.). Klaviermusik des 20. Jahrhunderts. Mainz,
Schott, pp. 102-129; W. Killmayer (2004). ‘Klangstrukturen bei Hölderlin und in
Wolfgang Rihms Klavierstück Nr. 6 “Bagatellen”’. In: U. Tadday (ed.). Op. cit., pp. 51-
60.
11 E. Top (2009). ‘Expectation and Treatment of Dissonance in Wolfgang Rihm’s Third
String Quartet’. Dutch Journal of Music Theory, vol. 14 no. 3, p. 143.
12 E. Top (2009). Op. cit., p. 153, 151, respectively.
13 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Neo-Tonalität’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 188.
14 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Neo-Tonalität’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 189.
15 Consequently, McGregor expands the chord to the Lenz-chord group by added notes,
by adding related and overlapping chords. R. McGregor (2007). Op. cit., p. 39, 44.
16 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Neo-Tonalität?’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 185-194; W. Rihm (1985-86).
‘Tonalität. Klischee – Umwertung – Versuch’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 194-209.
17 G. Borio (1993). Op. cit., p. 87, 93.
18 In the score of the Sixth String Quartet, on p. 39, there is an error in counting the bars:
the first bar should be 382 instead of 384. A second error occurs on p. 55: the first bar
should be 562 instead of 568. The total number of bars is 848 instead of 854. The exact
count is given in square brackets next to the score’s numbers.
19 W. Rihm (1988). ‘Improvisation über das Fixieren von Freiheit’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 97.
20 W. Rihm (2012). Klangbeschreibung. Conference, Karlsruhe, 3-5 April 2012. Rihm
answered questions and commented on his aesthetic.
21 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Chiffre IV’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 331.
22 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I – Silence to Be Beaten (Chiffre II) – Chiffre III’. Op. cit. vol.
2, p. 331; W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 344.
23 W. Rihm (1984). Nebenbemerkung. Bild (eine Chiffre). Wien, Universal Edition, UE
18014. Note on the introductory page of the score.
24 I. Stoianova (1991). ‘En mutation’. In: Streichquartette Nr. 3, 5, 8. Montaigne 1 CD
782001, CD booklet, pp. 7-8. In the Superformel for Licht, Stockhausen defines
different soft noises as “coloured silence” (gefärbte Pause); W. Rihm (1983).

‘Musikalische Freiheit’. Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 31.
25 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 328; W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I – Silence
to Be Beaten (Chiffre II) – Chiffre III’. Op. cit. vol. 2, p. 331.
10 String Quartet in the 1980s

1 M. Wilkening (2002). ‘Streichquartett als Spiegel des Gesamtwerks. Zu Wolfgang
Rihms Werken für Streichquartett’. In: B.O. Polzer & T. Schäfer (eds.). Katalog Wien
Modern 2002. Saarbrücken, Pfau, p. 147.
2 U. Mosch (1998). ‘Streichquartett – ein magisches Wort. Zu Wolfgang Rihms Schaffen
für Streichquartett’. Positionen, no. 34, pp. 47-48.
3 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Ohne Titel (Fünftes Streichquartett)’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 330.
4 W. Rihm (1991). ‘Der Taumel der Gegensätze im Gleichgewicht’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p.
219.
5 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Im Innersten. Drittes Streichquartett’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 303.
6 M. Wilkening (1988). ‘Die Streichquartette Wolfgang Rihms’. In: M. Wilkening (ed.).
Wolfgang Rihm. Komponistenportrait. Berlin, 38. Berliner Festswochen, p. 25.
7 Joachim Brügge refers to the third Notebook Composition, Musik für drei Streicher,
quoting a critic on ein biographisches Schlüsselwerk, and writing about einer deutlich
im Werk inszenierten ‘biographisch-tonsymbolischen Aura’. He explains how eine
autobiographische Motivation is at the base of the Sixth Quartet. J. Brügge (2004).
Op. cit., pp. 187-189. Dibelius combines “diary” and “novel” in his description. U.
Dibelius (2004). Op. cit., p. 69.
8 W. Rihm (1985). ‘Sechstes Streichquartett – Blaubuch’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 340.
In the context of illness and recovery, Brügge refers to Beethoven’s Heiliger Dankgesang
eines Genesenden an die Gottheit, written on top of the third movement, Molto Adagio
of String Quartet no. 15, op. 132. J. Brügge (2004). Op. cit., p. 302. In certain editions
of Beethoven’s string quartet Genesenen is found instead of Genesenden: someone
“recovered” instead of “recovering” or “convalescent”. The difference is that Rihm was
“recovering” in hospital when he started the composition of his Sixth Quartet, while
Beethoven had already “recovered” when he began the composition of op. 132 after
traveling to Baden. At least for Beethoven this makes Genesenen more correct than
Genesenden.
10 M. Wilkening (1988). Op. cit., p. 29. Wilkening does not add his source; B. Kutschke
(1997). Op. cit., p. 12.; J. Brügge (2004). Op. cit., p. 281, 303.
11 U. Dibelius (2004). Op. cit., pp. 62, 68, 68 (fn. 1).
12 M. Wilkening (1988). Op. cit., p. 29.
13 B. Kutschke (1997). Op. cit., p. 12. Kutschke gives no details about the weite Strecken
or longer passages of the Seventh Quartet.
14 J. Brügge (2004). Op. cit., pp. 306-307.
15 U. Dibelius (2004). Op. cit., p. 62, 68.
16 Only f#: f# unison short and long (bars 398 [396], 399 [397], 808 [802], 817-818 [811-
Notes - 11 Group Formation: Chiffre Cycle 319
812]); f# sustained top note (bars 602-605 [596-599]). Only c#: c# longest note of
a melodic element: solo sustained and returning (bars 434-438 [432-436]); unison
c# in all instruments (bar 658 [652], surrounded by other unisons); c#-d repeated,
sustained and tremolo dyad (bars 574-591 [568-585]). The combination of both:
consonant dyad c#-f# (bars 404-405 [402-403]); c#(+5)f# as the beginning of several
melodic elements (bars 660 [654], 663 [657]).
17 Because of an error in counting the bar numbers in the study score of the Seventh
Quartet, I make use of double numbers: bar numbers as found in the score in
normal notation, exact bar numbers in square brackets. The error occurs at bar 410,
which was counted twice: from here double numbers are used: the “second” bar 410
becomes 410 [411].
18 The dyad c#-f#: bars 72, 107, 164, 205-207 (with added notes in bar 206), 218-219
(mostly with added c§), 239, 267 (alternating both pitches), 395, 396-398, 401-402,
426-427 [427-428]. Pitch f#: bars 73-74, 81, 106, 110-111, 114, 142, 208, 227, 233,
356-357, 392, 410 second bar [411], 428 [429], 431 [432]. Pitch f# as part of consonant
dyad: bar 102, 195, 285 (with glissando). Pitch c#: bars 76-79, 222, 309-336 and 345-
355 (vc solo, with some interruptions and c# replaced by db in bars 333-335, also
tritone dyad c#-g), 400-401.
19 The solo moments are bars 163-165, 166-167, 168-169, 179-185 in cluster f-f#-gb,
195-199, 201-202, 215-218, 226-227, 228-229, 238-241, 244-267 (vn1 solo), 268, 270-
271, 272-277, 281-282, 285-286, 287, 288-289.
20 W. Rihm (2012). Wolfgang Rihm in conversation with Lucas Fels. Institute of Musical
Research, School of Advanced Study University of London, iTunes U. Quotation:
26:02-26:24 and 28:32-29:15. http://www.sas.ac.uk/node/679. Downloaded
20130601. Rudolf Frisius tries to consider the Tenth and Twelfth String Quartets
together with the Quartettstudie as another ‘group of works’. He defines it even as
a cycle, albeit not intended beforehand by the composer: “The works in this group
were not written as a planned cycle but based on specific, diverse design ideas. This
makes clear that cyclical character can develop in the compositional process itself
– as a new synthesis of a new unity in diversity.”; R. Frisius (2006). ‘Neue Musik für
Streichquartett: Auskomponierte Paradoxien?‘ In: String Quartets, vol. 4. col legno,
WWE 1 CD 20227, CD booklet, p. 11. English translation by Steven Lindberg, p. 18.
11 Group Formation: Chiffre Cycle

1 Unless otherwise indicated the sources for this chapter are Rihm’s short comments
on the individual pieces of the Chiffre cycle, on parts of the cycle and on the complete
cycle. W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 328; W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I –
Silence to Be Beaten (Chiffre II) – Chiffre III’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 331; W. Rihm (1984).
‘Chiffre IV’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 331; W. Rihm (1984). ‘Bild’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2,
p. 335; W. Rihm (1984). ‘Chiffre V’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 340; W. Rihm (1985).
‘Chiffre VI’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 342; W. Rihm (1987). ‘Chiffre VII’. In: ausgesprochen,
vol. 2, p. 343; W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 343-
345; W. Rihm (1988). ‘Chiffre VIII’. In: ausgesprochen, vol. 2, p. 370.
2 R. Frisius (1985). ‘Werk und Werkzyklus. Bemerkungen zum Chiffre-Zyklus von

Wolfgang Rihm’. MusikTexte, no. 11, p. 17. (Frisius is quoting from a presentation
by Rihm on the occasion of the first performance of Chiffre VI on 16 April 1985.)
For the symbolic meaning of ‘Chiffre’ in relation to the philosophy of Pascal and
Roland Barthes, see: M. Zenck (2009). ‘Eingemeißelt. Zur “Arte Cifra” in Wolfgang
Rihms Chiffre-Zyklus’. Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, vol. 170, no. 2, pp. 26-31; In turn,
Dorothea Ruthemeier expatiated on the ethymological meaning of the term and on
its relation to Rihm’s attention given to the act of writing: D. Ruthemeier (2012). Op.
cit., pp. 183-199.
3 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Mittendrin’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 95.
4 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 328.
5 A. Williams (2013). Op. cit., pp. 194-195.
6 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre VIII’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 370.
7 W. Rihm (1982). ‘Notizen zur Tutuguri-Musik’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 327.
8 An example is found in Rihm’s Catalogue: Jagden und Formen exists in Zustand 1995-
99, Zustand 1995-2000 (both withdrawn), Zustand 1995-2001 and Zustand 2008. W.
Rihm (2011). Catalogue. Op. cit., p. 8.
10 W. Rihm (2012). ‘Was Musik wirklich ist…’. Op. cit., p. 10.
12 Chiffre Cycle: Harmony

1 Bild contains more moments with sustained tritone-fifth combinations, but not at
particular places: on pitch b in bars 68-69, on eb in bar 93, on c# in bars 159-160, just
before the coda.
2 While it is impossible to analyse all chords, I proceeded as follows for the harmonic
analysis in general and the harmonic rhythm in particular. All chords are taken
into account, except for very fast rhythmical movements, where it is clear that the
harmonic value is subordinate to the rhythm and the fast movement. To give some
examples: in the first bar of Chiffre I, I discern four different chords (see Ex. 52, p.
214): a-e-g#-g-f#-c-bb-f and a-e-c-bb-f on 1/1, e-c-bb-f on 1/2-4, c-bb-f on 1/4. In bar
44 however, I reduce the piano solo to the sustained dyad b-e in the left hand (see Ex.
5, p. 79. The example only shows the hectic rhythm of the right hand). A combination
of sustained and repeated notes is also counted as one chord.
3 The number of different notes per chord is counted, leaving out all doubles.
4 The numbers in Table 21 are based on the number of individual chords, not on the
presence per bar. Presence per bar gives a completely different image, for instance in
Chiffre I consonance is present in 121 of 176 bars or 69% but the number of exclusive
consonant bars is only 33 bars or 19%.
5 R. Frisius (2004). Op. cit., pp. 86-87.
Notes - 14 Chiffre Cycle: Cyclic Elements 321
13 Chiffre Cycle: Resonance

1 W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 328.
W. Rihm (1983). ‘Chiffre I – Silence to Be Beaten (Chiffre II) – Chiffre III’. Op. cit., vol.
2, p. 331; W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 343.
2 Around the same time Helmut Lachenmann also made resonance to a crucial topic
of his aesthetic in Ausklang for piano and orchestra (1984-85), followed by Allegro
Sostenuto. Musik für Klarinette/Baßklarinette, Violoncello und Klavier (1987-88, rev.
1989, 1990, 1991). In the latter he uses almost the same trio as Rihm: the clarinet
plays the first half of the piece and changes to the bass clarinet in the second half.
Concerning resonance Lachenmann is using more piano pedal; there are more
unisons in the three instruments; the piano pedal is notated rhythmically. Of course
Lachenmann incorporates all kinds of sounds belonging to his musique concrète
instrumentale and is also focusing on contrasts between sustained pedal sound and
secco sound, between sustained stand still resonating sounds and fast movements.
3 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Chiffre IV’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 331; W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum
Chiffre-Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 344.
4 W. Rihm (1987). ‘Klangbeschreibung. Drei Stücke’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 362.
5 J. Stenzl (2004). ‘Wolfgang Rihm und Luigi Nono’. In: U. Tadday (ed.). Op. cit., pp. 21-
22. According to Stefan Drees, Rihm’s consciousness of the sound space, the moving
sound through space and the special setting of the instruments on the stage aiming
at spatial effects, is influenced by his friendship with Luigi Nono. S. Drees (2012).
‘”Zustände, jeweils andere”: Kompositorische Strategien in Wolfgang Rihms Musik
in memoriam Luigi Nono’. Die Tonkunst, vol. 6, pp. 172-173.
14 Chiffre Cycle: Cyclic Elements

1 In his analysis of the Chiffre cycle, Richard McGregor also discerns a number of
“repoled” figures. The rhythmic repetition is labelled as one of the four main motifs
in his analysis of Chiffre VI, with a reference to the beginning of Chiffre I. The figure
with ascending leap is also identified as a generative pole in Chiffre I, described as a
“short fanfare-like motif ”. Furthermore, McGregor discerns elements with a melodic
character. R. McGregor (2007). Op. cit., pp. 31-33, p. 33 (fn. 17), p. 41. In his in-depth
analysis of Chiffre I, Rudolf Frisius defines “repetition” as one of the seven “sound
layers” he discerns in the first Höreireignis or “aural event” (bar 1-2/1): “hammered
accentuated repetitions, an extreme widely set octave sound, very loud”. Details on
later appearances of repetition are revealed, always as part of a more complex “aural
event”. Hence, “repetition” is given no more importance than the other composing
elements of the different “aural events”: all are classified as Gestaltungselement
or “structuring element” and subject of expansion, reduction, integration and
accumulation. It is clear that Frisius values “repetition” as a main element without
according it the qualities of a generative pole or even an independent “figure”.
R. Frisius (2004). Op. cit., pp. 76-77.
16 Chiffre Cycle: Proportions

1 Richard McGregor describes the application of the golden section in Chiffre I in
his analysis of the Chiffre cycle. R. McGregor (2007). Op. cit., p. 42. In McGregor’s
interpretation, the silence of bar 108 is the subject of “repoling” in the next pieces.
2 W. Rihm (1984). ‘Bild’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 335. W. Rihm (1985). ‘Notizen zum Chiffre-
Zyklus’. Op. cit., vol. 2, p. 344.
Selected Bibliography
Texts and Interviews

Brinkman, Reinhold & Rihm, Wolfgang. Musik nachdenken. Regensburg, ConBrio,
2001.
Misch, Imke & Blumröder, Christoph von (eds.). Komposition und Musikwissen
schaft im Dialog V (2001-2004). Berlin, Lit Verlag, 2006, pp. 57-84.
Mosch, Ulrich (ed.) & Rihm, Wolfgang. ausgesprochen. Schriften und Gespräche.
Winterthur, Amadeus, 1997, 2 vol.
Rihm, Wolfgang. ‘Der generative Pol. Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch mit Peter
Sloterdijk’. Österreichische Musikzeitschrift, vol. 44 (1989), no. 6, pp. 281-286.
Rihm, Wolfgang. ‘Musik ist... Aus einem Briefwechsel von Hans Heinrich
Eggebrecht und Wolfgang Rihm’. In: D. Rexroth (ed.). Der Komponist
Wolfgang Rihm. Mainz, Schott, 1985.
Rihm, Wolfgang. Triobeschreibung: Rihm. Interview by Wolfgang Hofer. Kairos
0012092KAI, CD booklet, 2000.
Rihm, Wolfgang. ‘Musik ist nie bei sich’. Interview by Stefan Fricke. Neue Zeitschrift
für Musik, vol. 163 (2002), no. 2, pp. 52-55.
Rihm, Wolfgang. Wolfgang Rihm im Gespräch mit Josef Häusler. Jagden und Formen,
Deutsche Grammophon 471558-2, 2002, CD booklet.
Rihm, Wolfgang. ‘Man darf in der Musik nicht klein denken’. Wolfgang Rihm über
musikalischen Fluss, Bewegung des Denkens und die Erwartungen der
Öffentlichkeit. Interview by Max Nyffeler. Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, vol.
164 (2003), no. 2, pp. 60-63.
Rihm, Wolfgang. ‘Chasse à l’homme, à la recherche de Wolfgang Rihm’. Interview by
Eric Denut. Musica falsa, no. 17 (2003). http://www.musiquecontemporaine.
fr/record/oai:cdmc.asso.fr:aloes:0034103
Rihm, Wolfgang. ‘Hunting and Forms’. Interview by Richard McGregor. In:
Paddison, Max. Contemporary Music, Theoretical and Philosophical
Perspectives, Surrey, Ashgate, 2010.
Rihm, Wolfgang. Catalogue. Vienna, Universal Edition, 2011.
Rihm, Wolfgang, Poppe, Eno & Wiegandt, M. Gesprächsrunde, Musikhochschule
Karlsruhe, iTunesU, 2012. https://itunes.apple.com/de/itunes-u/
gesprachsrunde-wolfgangrihm/id 514305891?mt=10
323
Rihm, Wolfgang. ‘Was Musik wirklich ist…’. Interview by Achim Heidenreich. Neue
Zeitschrift für Musik, vol. 173 (2012), no. 3, pp. 8-11.
Rihm, Wolfgang. Wolfgang Rihm in conversation with Lucas Fels. Institute of Musical
Research, School of Advanced Study University of London, iTunes U, 2012.
http://www.sas.ac.uk/node/679
Rihm, Wolfgang. ‘Akustischer Blick. Darmstädter Ferienkurse 2012: Wolfgang Rihm
im Gespräch’. MusikTexte, no. 136 (2013), pp. 9-12.
Rihm, Wolfgang. Composers and Works. Vienna, Universal Edition, no date. http://
www.universaledition.com/composers-and-works/Wolfgang-Rihm/
composer/599
Fine Arts
Rihm, Wolfgang. Bilder – Echo. Wolfgang Rihm – Kurt Kocherscheidt. Wergo WER
6623-2, 1997, CD booklet.
Liesbrock, Heinz (ed.). Brustrauschen. Zum Werkdialog von Kurt Kocherscheidt
und Wolfgang Rihm. Ostfildern-Ruit, Hatje Cantz, 2001.
Loers, Veit. ‘Der Grosse Unbekannte’. Interview by Gesine Borcherdt. In Art. Das
Kunstmagazin, 30 October 2013.
http://www.art-magazin.de/kunst/66716/veit_loers_interview
Mosch, Ulrich. ‘Musik als Malerei in der Zeit. Zu Wolfgang Rihms
kompositorischem Denken.’ Positionen, no. 59 (2004), pp. 27-29.
Style and Composition Techniques

Dejans, Peter (ed.). Order and Disorder. Music-Theoretical Strategies in twentieth-
century Music. Leuven, Leuven University Press, Collected Writings of the
Orpheus Institute, vol. 4, 2004.
Drees, Stefan. ‘“Zustände, jeweils andere”: Kompositorische Strategien in Wolfgang
Rihms Musik in memoriam Luigi Nono’. Die Tonkunst, vol. 6 (2012), pp. 170-
181.
Ender, Daniel. ‘Übermalung? Montage? Wucherung? Strategien und Wege
kompositorischer Selbstbearbeitung in neuer Musik’. Österreichische
Musikzeitschrift, vol. 66 (2011), no. 1, pp. 29-37.
Knockaert, Yves. ‘Systemlessness in Music’. In: Dejans, Peter (ed.). Order and
Disorder. Music-Theoretical Strategies in twentieth-century Music. Leuven,
Leuven University Press, Collected Writings of the Orpheus Institute, vol. 4,
2004, pp. 53-104.
Knockaert, Yves. ‘Wolfgang Rihm – The Meaning of Repetition’. Maeder,

Constantino & Reybrouck, Mark (eds.). (2017). Making Sense of Music.
Studies in Musical Semiotics. Louvain-la-Neuve, Presses Universitaires de
Louvain.
Papachristopoulos, Ioannis. ‘Ins Offene… Reflexionen über konstitutive Momente
in Wolfgang Rihms Musik um 1990’. Die Musikforschung, vol. 61 (2008),
pp. 349-367.
Zuber, Barbara. ‘Übermalungen, Fortschreibungen, Neufassungen. Zum Verhältnis
von Text und Prätext in Wolfgang Rihms Werk der 90er Jahre’. In:
Buschmeier, Gabriele (ed.). Transkription und Fassung in der Musik des 20.
Jahrhunderts. Stuttgart, Franz Steinver Verlag, 2008, pp. 45-59.
Chiffre Cycle
Faust, Wolfgang Max. ‘Arte Cifra? Neue Subjektivität? Trans-Avantgarde?: Aspekte
der italienischen Gegenwartskunst’. Kunstforum International (Cologne)
Idylle oder Itensität, (1980), no. 39, pp. 161-71.
Frisius, Rudolf. ‘Werk und Werkzyklus. Bemerkungen zum Chiffre-Zyklus von
Wolfgang Rihm’. MusikTexte, no. 11 (1985), pp. 17-20.
Frisius, Rudolf. ‘Wandlungen des musikalischen Denkens über Form und Struktur
im Spiegel der Musik von Wolfgang Rihm. Überlegungen am Beispiel
von Chiffre I. In: Tadday, Ulrich (ed.). Wolfgang Rihm. Musik-Konzepte,
München, edition text + kritik, 2004, pp. 75-92.
McGregor, Richard. Interpreting Compositional Process in Wolfgang Rihm’s Chiffre
Cycle. In: Frankfurter Zeitschrift für Musikwissenschaft, Online-Publikation
(2007), pp. 26-70.
http://www.european-musicology.eu/assets/Volumes/2007/20073a.pdf
http://www.european-musicology.eu/assets/Volumes/2007/20073b.pdf
Ruthemeier, Dorothea. Antagonismus oder Konkurrenz? Zu zentralen Werkgruppen
der 1980er Jahre von Wolfgang Rihm und Matthias Spahlinger. Schliengen,
Argus, 2012.
Zenck, Martin. ‘Eingemeißelt. Zur “Arte Cifra” in Wolfgang Rihms Chiffre-Zyklus’.
Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, vol. 170 (2009), no. 2, pp. 26-31.
https://new.artsmia.org/exhibition/die-neuen-wilden-neo-expressionism-in-
germany (accessed June 2017)
http://www/kettererkunst.de/lexikon/transavanguardia-und-arte-cifra.php (accessed
June 2017)
String Quartets
Brügge, Joachim. ‘Zur Form und Ästhetik in Wolfgang Rihms drittem
Streichquartett “Im Innersten” (1976)’. Die Musikforschung, vol. 52 (1999),
pp. 178-189.
Brügge, Joachim. Wolfgang Rihms Streichquartette. Aspekte zu Analyse, Ästhetik und
Gattungstheorie des modernen Streichquartetts. Saarbrücken, Pfau, 2004.
Dibelius, Urich. ‘Zwischen Obsession und Obstruktion. Zu den Streichquartetten
von Wolfgang Rihm’. In: Tadday, Ulrich (ed.). Wolfgang Rihm. Musik-
Konzepte, München, edition text + kritik, 2004, pp. 61-73.
Frisius, Rudolf. ‘Insistenz und Ausbruch. Zu den Streichquartetten 7, 8 und
9 von Wolfgang Rihm. Drei Streichquartette als Marksteine einer
kompositorischen Entwicklung’. In: String Quartets, vol. 3. col legno WWE
1CD 20213, CD booklet, 2005.
Frisius, Rudolf. ‘Neue Musik für Streichquartett: Auskomponierte Paradoxien?’ In:
String Quartets, vol. 4. col legno, WWE 1 CD 20227, CD booklet, 2006.
McGregor, Richard. Wolfgang Rihm’s Fourth String Quartet. Unity – Static and
Dynamic. Unpubd., s.d.
Mosch, Ulrich. ‘Streichquartett – ein magisches Wort. Zu Wolfgang Rihms Schaffen
für Streichquartett’. Positionen, no. 34 (1998), pp. 47-50.
Stoianova, Ivanka. ‘En mutation’. Streichquartette Nr. 3, 5, 8. Montaigne 1 CD
782001, CD booklet, 1991.
Top, Edward. Analysis String Quartet No. 3 ‘Im Innersten’ of Wolfgang Rihm, 2003.
http://home.online.nl/edwardtop/Im%20Innersten/Zwischenspiel.html
Top, Edward. ‘Expectation and Treatment of Dissonance in Wolfgang Rihm’s Third
String Quartet’. Dutch Journal of Music Theory, vol. 14 (2009), no. 3, pp. 143-
154.
Winkler, Gerhard. ‘Das “fluide” Werk und die Krise der Partitur. Zu Wolfgang
Rihms 4. Streichquartett und Über die Linie für Violoncello solo’. In: W.
Hofer (2004, ed.). Ausdruck, Zugriff, Differenzen. Der Komponist Wolfgang
Rihm. Mainz, Schott, 2003, pp. 135-145.
Other Publications on Rihm

2003 Ernst von Siemens Musikpreis – Wolfgang Rihm. München, Ernst von Siemens
Musikstiftung, 2003.
Brinkmann Reinhold (ed.). Die Neue Musik und die Tradition. Veröffentlichungen
des Instituts für Neue Musik und Musikerziehung Darmstadt, vol. 19,
Mainz, Schott, 1978.
Brinkmann, Reinhold. Laudatio für Wolfgang Rihm (abbreviated version): www.

nzz.ch/2003/05/24/ li/page-article8UUVT.html
Brodsky, Seth. ‘Write the Moment’: Two Ways of Dealing with Wolfgang Rihm I, The
Musical Times, vol. 145 (2004), no. 1888, pp. 57-72.
Buschmeier, Gabriele, Konrad, Ulrich & Riethmüller, Albrecht (eds.). Transkription
und Fassung in der Musik des 20. Jahrhunderts. Beiträge des Kolloquiums in
der Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur, Mainz, 5-6 März 2004.
Stuttgart, Franz Steiner Verlag, 2008.
1. Doppelgesang: http://www.universaledition.com/composers-and-works/
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Fukunaka, Fuyuko. Wolfgang Rihm: Interpretive Examination of his Creative Sources.
Unpubd. PhD, New York University, 2003.
Häusler, Josef. ‘Wolfgang Rihm: Zwei Schwellenwerke’. In: Morphonie,
Klangbeschreibung I-III. Hänssler CD 93.010, CD Booklet, 2000.
Hofer, Wolfgang (ed.). Ausdruck, Zugriff, Differenzen. Der Komponist Wolfgang
Rihm. Mainz, Schott, 2003.
Killmayer, Wilhelm, Mauser, Siegfried & Rihm, Wolfgang (eds.). Klaviermusik des
20. Jahrhunderts. Mainz, Schott, 1992.
Köhler, Armin. Wolfgang Rihm ‘Eine Strasse, Lucile’ – Fragen an den Komponisten.
Programmbuch Opernhaus, Badisches Staatstheater, 2011.
Krüger, Bernd (ed.). Rihm &. Programmheft der 47. Berliner Festwochen 1997.
Berlin, 1997.
Krüger, Bernd (ed.). Journal Musikfest Berlin 2008. Berlin, Berliner Festspiele, 2008.
Krüger, Bernd & Hopp, Winrich (eds.). Journal Musikfest Berlin 2011. Berlin,
Berliner Festspiele, 2011.
Kutschke, Beate. Wildes Denken in der Neuen Musik. Die Idee vom Ende der
Geschichte bei Theodor W. Adorno und Wolfgang Rihm. Würzburg,
Königshausen & Neumann, 2002.
Lochhead, Judy. ‘Logic of Edge: Wolfgang Rihm’s Am Horizont’. In: Hulse, Brian and
Nesbitt, Nick (eds.). Sounding the Virtual: Gilles Deleuze and the Theory and
Philosophy of Music. Surrey, Ashgate, 2010, pp. 181-198.
McGregor, Andrew, Review of 1. Doppelgesang (2007), BBC [CD] ‘Wolfgang Rihm
Volume 1 Review’. http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/3mf9/ (accessed
June 2017)
McGregor, Richard, (ed.). Wolfgang Rihm. Contemporary Music Review, Special
Issue, 2018 (in press).
Mosch, Ulrich. ‘“Taktilität” des Klangs – Wolfgang Rihms Poetik’. Österreichische

Musikzeitschrift, vol. 63 (2008), no. 8/9, pp. 26-33.
Niemann, Barbara. Die musikalische Bearbeitung des ‘Ödipus’-Stoffes durch
Wolfgang Rihm. München, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, 2013.
Polzer, Berno Odo & Schäfer, Thomas (eds.). Katalog Wien Modern 2002.
Saarbrücken, Pfau, 2002.
Polzer, Berno Odo & Schäfer, Thomas (eds.). Katalog Wien Modern 2005.
Saarbrücken, Pfau, 2005.
Putten, B. van. Femmes fatales. Program notes Rihm-Resonanz, Zaterdagmatinee,
Concertgebouw Amsterdam, Amsterdam, 10 December 2011.
Reimann, Aribert (1979). ‘Salut für die junge Avantgarde’. Neue Zeitschrift für Musik,
vol. 140 (1979), no.1, p. 25.
Rexroth, Dieter (ed.). Der Komponist Wolfgang Rihm. Mainz, Schott, 1985.
Riehl, Lutz. DEUS PASSUS. Internationale Bachakademie Stuttgart, Stuttgart, 2008.
Sattler, Mark. Rihm plays with Brahms. Harmonia Mundi HMC 902153, CD booklet,
2013.
Schaufler, Wolfgang. “CONCERTO”. Kairos 0012952KAI, CD booklet, 2009.
Seedorf, Thomas (ed.). Klangbeschreibung. Zur Interpretation der Musik Wolfgang
Rihms. Sinzig, Studio Verlag, 2015.
https://itunes.apple.com/de/itunes-u/
internationalesmusikwissenschaftliches/ id524928996?mt=10
Tadday, Ulrich (ed.). Wolfgang Rihm. Musik-Konzepte, München, edition text +
kritik, 2004.
Toronyi-Lalic, Igor (2010). Wolfgang Rihm Day, Barbican. The Arts Desk, Classical
Music Reviews, News & Interviews, 13 March 2010, London, 2010.
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Varga, Bálint András. Three Questions for sixty-five Composers. New York, University
of Rochester Press, 2011.
Wilkening, Martin (ed.). Programmheft zu den 38. Berliner Festwochen, 1988. Berlin,
1988.
Williams, Alastair (2004), ‘Voices of the Other: Wolfgang Rihm’s Music Drama Die
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Williams, Alastair. ‘Swaying with Schumann: Subjectivity and Tradition in Wolfgang
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(2006), no. 3, pp. 379-397.
Williams, Alastair. ‘Postlude: Helmut Lachenmann, Wolfgang Rihm and the Austro-
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Zuber, Barbara. Blick zurück nach vorn. Werklandschaften. Zu Wolfgang Rihms

’Jagden und Formen’. MusikTexte, no. 118 (2008), pp. 7-14.
Zeitgegenstände - Wolfgang Rihm, Musik Baut Europa. Exhibition at the Städtische
Galerie Karlsruhe, 2012.
General Information
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General Index
A Dérives 58
Adorno, Theodor W. 60, 69-72, 98, 171, Domaines 58
291, 310n.50 Eclat 58
Aperghis, Georges 124 Eclat/multiples 59
Artaud, Antonin 11, 15, 65-68, 81, 174, …explosante-fixe… 58-59
290 Figures-Doubles-Prismes 59
Incises 58
B Le soleil des eaux 72
Bach, Johann-Sebastian 32, 74, 80, Notations 58
311n.11 Piano Sonata no. 3 59
Brandenburg Concerto no. 3 80, Répons 31, 58-59
311n.11 Visage nuptial 72
Bacon, Francis 212 Brahms, Johannes 74-77
Barthes, Roland 56-57, 99, 320n.2 Ein deutsches Requiem 74
Bartók, Béla 72-73, 141 Fünf Lieder, Wie Melodien, op. 105/1
Music for Strings, Percussion and 76
Celesta 141 Vier ernste Gesänge 74
Baselitz, Georg 16, 97-98 Brinkmann, Reinhold 108, 301n.1,
Beckmann, Max 98 304n.3
Beethoven, Ludwig van 22, 36, 51, 60, Brodsky, Seth 11
73, 147-48, 185, 318n.8 Bruckner, Anton 79
String Quartet no. 15, op. 132 318n.8 Brügge, Joachim 11, 21, 25, 45, 79,
Symphony no. 3, Eroica 147 187-88, 303n.11, 306n.33, 307n.35,
Bellheim, Markus 147, 164 313n.17, 318n.7-8
Berg, Alban 23, 73, 77, 311n.8 Büchner, Georg 74
Altenberglieder 77, 311n.8 Buñuel, Luis 178
Wozzeck 77, 311n.8 Busoni, Ferruccio 22, 36, 81, 146
Berio, Luciano 31, 33, 52
La vera storia 33 C
Sequenza series 31 Cage, John 32, 304n.19
Sinfonia 58 Calvino, Italo 33
Un re in ascolto 33 Campbell, Edward 124
Bernini, Lorenzo 65
Beuys, Joseph 32, 93, 309n.32 D
Blumröder, Christoph von 43 Dahlhaus, Carl 71-72
Borio, Gianmario 71, 171, 305n.3, Danuser, Hermann 53, 58
310n.50 Debussy, Claude 22, 60-61, 94, 172
Bose, Hans-Jürgen von 51, 53 La Mer 94
Boulez, Pierre 13, 31, 33, 35, 58-59, 72, Deleuze, Gilles 123-24, 304n.3
124
333
Dibelius, Urich 23-24, 96, 124, 187-88, Killmayer, Wilhelm 33, 61, 63, 161
315n.5, 318n.7 Kirkeby, Per 98
Drees, Stefan 321n.5 Kocherscheidt, Kurt 68, 97-98, 102-03,
Dusapin, Pascal 124 111-13, 116, 124, 211, 309n.32
Kutschke, Beate 24, 187-88, 318n.13
E
Eggebrecht, Hans Heinrich 59-60, 98 L
Einem, Gottfried von 74 Lachenmann, Helmut 19, 31, 33, 61-63,
Dantons Tod 74 124, 171, 308n.21, 321n.2
Ender, Daniel 124 Allegro Sostenuto 321n.2
Ausklang 321n.2
F Mouvement (– vor der Erstarrung) 63
Faust, Wolfgang Max 16 Ligeti, György 33, 52, 71, 75-76, 171,
Feldman, Morton 33, 61, 94-96, 304n.19 274
Rothko Chapel 95 Aventures 75
Fels, Lucas 197 Chamber Concerto 75
Fess, Eike 79 Etudes 33
Frisius, Rudolf 209, 223, 316n.7, Le Grand Macabre 76
319n.20, 320n.2, 321n.1 Mysteries of the Macabre 76
Frobenius, Wolf 129, 135 Nouvelles Aventures 75
Poème symphonique 75
G Síppal, dobbal, nádihegedüvel 76
Giacometti, Alberto 309n.32 String Quartet no. 2 75
Glass, Philip 32 Trio for violin, horn and piano 33
Goebbels, Heiner 124 Lochhead, Judy 56, 304-05n.3
Goeyvaerts, Karel 52 Lombardi, Luca 15
Grisey, Gérard 31, 124 Lüpertz, Markus 97-98
Les espaces acoustiques 31 Lutosławski, Witold 14, 189
Guattari, Felix 123 Preludes and Fugue 14
String Quartet 189
H Lyotard, François 57
Hanslick, Eduard 126-27
Hindemith, Paul 72 M
Huber, Klaus 59-60, 107 Mahler, Gustav 22, 60, 76-77, 79, 174,
285
J Das Lied von der Erde 79
Janáček, Leoš 22, 73, 185 Symphony no. 1 77, 311n.8
String Quartet no. 1, Kreutzer Sonata Symphony no. 2 77, 311n.8
73 Symphony no. 8 76
String Quartet no. 2, Intimate Letters Mauclair, Camille 94
73 Mauser, Siegfried 147, 164
McGregor, Andrew 14
K McGregor, Richard 129, 140, 165,
Kagel, Mauricio 31-32, 52 305n.9, 306n.21, 317n.15, 321n.1,
Sankt-Bach-Passion 33 322n.1
Kandinsky, Wassily 97 Messiaen, Olivier 32
Kiefer, Anselm 97 Saint-François d’Assise 32
General index 335
Monet, Claude 94 Sechs kleine Klavierstücke, op. 19 76

Mosch, Ulrich 34, 96-97, 113, 184, Schubert, Franz 22, 36, 51, 60, 73, 87,
303n.3, 304n.3, 313n.25 89-91, 279, 312n.19, 317n.7
Motte-Haber, Helga de la 53-54 Der Wanderer (D 489) 87
Müller-Siemens, Detlev 51 Octet in F major (D 803) 87, 89-90
Müller, Heiner 33, 38 Schultze, Bernard 71
Schumann, Robert 60, 66, 74
N Schweinitz, Wolfgang von 51
Niemann, Barbara 314n.39 Shulman, Laurie 14
Nietzsche, Friedrich 15, 66 Sloterdijk, Peter 35, 63-66, 68, 290,
Nolde, Emil 98 309n.26, 309n.33
Nono, Luigi 33, 52, 61-62, 72, 136, 212, Stockhausen, Karlheinz 19, 33, 44, 49,
234, 321n.5 52, 56, 58-60, 63, 70, 72, 128, 131,
Caminar (series) 61 134-35, 148, 179, 267, 290, 317n.24
Fragmente, Stille – An Diotima 62 Gruppen 72
Il Canto sospeso 72 Hymnen 58
Licht 33, 317n.24
P Momente 44, 148-49
Paddison, Max 310n.50 Sirius 33
Papachristopoulos, Ioannis 126, 128 Stoianova, Ivanka 9, 317n.24
Pärt, Arvo 32 Strauss, Botho 74
Pascal, Blaise 68, 209, 320n.2 Strauss, Richard 74
Paulhan, Jean 67 Salome 74
Penck, A.R. 97 Stravinsky, Igor 72, 77, 311n.8
Penderecki, Krzysztof 32 Le Sacre du Printemps 77, 311n.8
Polish Requiem 32
Pousseur, Henri 52 T
Titian 212
R Top, Edward 128, 161
Rainer, Arnulf 11, 93, 98, 104-05 Trojahn, Manfred 51
Rauschenberg, Robert 95
Reger, Max 53 U
Reich, Steve 33 Urmetzer, Reinhold 186
Tehillim 33
Reimann, Aribert 12 V
Rexroth, Dieter 96 Varèse, Edgard 14, 60-61, 72, 81-87,
Rimbaud, Arthur 14 97, 160, 178, 311n.8, 311n.12-13,
Rothko, Mark 95-96 311n.16, 312n.18
Ruthemeier, Dorothea 305n.9, 320n.2 Amériques 81, 87
Arcana 14, 81, 87, 311n.13
S Densité 21,5 82-85
Schnebel, Dieter 52 Déserts 81
Schnittke, Alfred 52, 58 Hyperprism 81, 87
Concerto grosso no. 4/Symphony no. 5 Intégrales 77, 86-87, 311n.8, 312n.18
58 Octandre 82
Schönberg, Arnold 22, 60-61, 71-72, 76, Offrandes 87
301n.1 Varga, Bálint András 120
Velasquez, Diego 212 Vier Stücke für Geige und Klavier, op.
Velte, Eugen Werner 59-60 7 76
Vergo, Peter 94-95 Wilkening, Martin 21, 183, 185, 187-88
Verlaine, Paul 14 Williams, Alastair 11-13, 16-17, 59, 63,
Vivaldi, Antonio 22 148, 164, 210, 302n.10, 311n.16
Winkler, Gerhard 127-28
W
Wagner, Richard 79 Z
Webern, Anton 68, 76, 301n.1 Zemlinsky, Alexander von 77, 311n.8
‘Entflieht auf leichten Kähnen’, op. 2 Lyrische Symphonie 77, 311n.8
76 Zender, Hans 52
Fünf Lieder aus ‘Der siebente Ring’ Zimmermann, Bernd Alois 52
von Stefan George, op. 3 76 Zuber, Barbara 13, 24, 108, 304n.3
Index of Compositions
by Wolfgang Rihm
A Chiffre II, Silence to be Beaten 27, 67,

Akt 184 77-80, 87, 113, 132, 149, 152-54, 155,
Akt und Tag 184 169-70, 172, 178, 181, 215, 220-25,
Alexanderlieder 37 233, 236-43, 249-51, 253-54, 256,
Antlitz 43, 145 260, 262-63, 265-67, 270-73, 275,
284-87, 299, 311n.16
B Chiffre III 27, 68, 75-76, 78-80, 86-87,
Bild (eine Chiffre) 16, 27, 82-85, 87, 93, 113, 120, 155, 169, 172, 175, 181,
113, 120, 155, 160, 167-69, 171, 173, 210, 215, 220-23, 225, 232, 238-43,
178, 210, 216, 219-25, 240-41, 247- 247-48, 250, 253, 256, 260, 262-63,
48, 250-51, 259, 262, 264, 266-67, 265-66, 272-75, 281, 284, 287, 299,
277-78, 282-83, 287-88, 299, 320n.1 312n.18
Bildnis: Anakreon 37, 93 Chiffre IV 27, 76, 132, 155, 169, 172, 174,
Blick auf Kolchis 112 176-78, 181, 210, 215, 219-25, 227,
Brahmsliebewalzer 74 229-33, 240-42, 249-51, 265-67, 275-
Bratschenkonzert 157 77, 284, 287, 294, 299
Chiffre V 27, 77, 87, 113, 118, 123, 147,
C 155, 170, 172, 210, 216, 220-26, 233,
Cantus firmus (Musik in memoriam Luigi 239-43, 247-48, 250, 263, 265-67,
Nono) 234 278-79, 281, 284-85, 287, 300
Canzona 158, 316n.3 Chiffre VI 27, 42, 76-77, 87-91, 155,
Chiffre (cycle) 12, 15-17, 20, 22, 26-27, 170-71, 175, 181, 210, 216-17, 219-
33, 35, 40-41, 49, 57, 68, 73, 75, 77, 26, 232-33, 239-43, 248, 251, 266-67,
79, 82, 86, 93, 113, 116, 120, 149, 279-82, 284-85, 287, 300, 320n.2,
154-56, 158, 165, 169, 176, 179, 181, 321n.1
209-15, 218-20, 222-23, 225-27, 233- Chiffre VII 27, 77, 87, 113, 155, 170-72,
36, 240, 244, 246-47, 257, 259-60, 210, 218-26, 232-33, 236, 238-42,
265, 268-69, 274, 283, 287-89, 293- 248-49, 253-55, 260-62, 266-67, 281-
94, 305n.9, 306n.21, 311n.16, 320n.2, 82, 284-87, 300
321n.1, 322n.1 Chiffre VIII 12, 27, 76, 82, 155, 169-71,
Chiffre I 27, 35-36, 78-80, 129, 132, 149- 210-11, 218, 220-23, 225, 227, 231-
51, 155, 169, 175, 177, 179, 181, 210- 32, 235, 240-42, 248, 259, 262, 266-
15, 220-29, 232-33, 235-49, 252-53, 67, 275, 282-84, 287-88, 300
259-62, 265-71, 273, 275, 283-84, “CONCERTO” 36, 184, 305n.11
286-88, 298, 316n.7, 320n.2, 320n.4, Concerto “Séraphin” 114
321n.1, 322n.1 cuts and dissolves 37-38
337
D I
Das Gehege 74 In-Schrift 114
Das Lesen der Schrift 74 Ins Offene… 126
Das Rot 66, 93 Interscriptum 36,184
Der Maler träumt 98
Der Wanderer (D 489, arrangement) 87 J
DEUS PASSUS 32, 74 Jagden und Formen 20, 24, 46, 59, 108,
Die Eroberung von Mexico 15, 66, 68 212, 320n.8
Die Hamletmaschine 33 Jakob Lenz 16, 66, 74, 161, 165, 305n.9
Diptychon 93
Dis-Kontur 12, 48, 119, 132-35, 305n.9 K
Doppelgesang (series) 14, 17, 157-58 Kalt 115
Dritte Musik für Violine und Orchester Kein Firmament 81
112 Klangbeschreibung (series) 12-13, 20, 34,
Dunkles Spiel 35, 126 173, 210, 233, 306n.32
Duomonolog 157 Klavierstück Nr. 4 132, 134-35
Klavierstück Nr. 5, Tombeau 162, 167,
E 305n.9
Eine Strasse, Lucile 74 Klavierstück Nr. 6, Bagatellen 38, 55, 103,
En plein air 93, 184 112, 161, 178
Ernster Gesang 74 Klavierstück Nr. 7 39, 147, 163-64
Erscheinung, Skizze über Schubert 16, 73, Kleine Echophantasie 157
87, 317n.7 Kolchis 112-13, 116
ET LUX 32, 74, 184 Kolonos 37
Etudes d’après Séraphin 31
L
F La lugubre gondola / Das Eismeer 234
Fetzen 38, 183-84 La musique creuse le ciel 21
Form/Zwei Formen 81 Ländler 39, 52, 87
Frau/Stimme 38 Lenz-Fragmente 37, 66
Fremde Szenen 66, 74
M
G Morphonie, Sektor IV 161, 184
Gebild 35, 93, 157 Musik für drei Streicher 22, 318n.7
Gedicht des Malers 93, 98-99 Musik für Oboe und Orchester 158
Gedrängte Form 59 Musik in memoriam Luigi Nono (series)
Geheimer Block 312n.2 234, 321n.5
Gejagte Form 59, 308n.21
Gesänge op. 1 12, 14 N
Gesungene Zeit 158 Nach-Schrift, eine Chiffre 27, 35-36, 113,
Grave 183 181, 211, 218, 236-37, 240-41, 265-
67, 283-84, 287-88, 300
H Nachtwach 114
Hölderlin-Fragmente 37, 301n.1 Nähe fern 75
In Frage (in memoriam) 112 Nature Morte – Still Alive 14, 93, 119,
Frage (in memoriam II) 112 173
Index of Compositions by Wolfgang Rihm 339
O 204-05, 298, 318n.13, 319n.17-19

Ohne Titel, String Quartet no. 5 17, 23, String Quartet no. 8 28, 57, 66, 99, 132,
28, 66, 93, 96-99, 104, 106-07, 109, 160, 165, 172, 174, 179, 183, 185, 188,
111-12, 116-18, 123, 132, 147, 158- 194-97, 206-08, 210, 298, 313n.17
60, 172-73, 175, 179-81, 183-84, String Quartet no. 9, Quartettsatz 183
188-93, 195-99, 201, 203, 290, 293, String Quartet no. 10 183
297, 309n.32, 313n.25 String Quartet no. 11 183
String Quartet no. 12 183
P String Quartet no. 13 183
Paraphrase 134-35 Stück 113
Pol – Kolchis – Nucleus 112, 211 Styx und Lethe 158
Sub-Kontur 12, 16, 119, 129, 132, 134-36
Q
Oedipus 112 T
Quartettstudie 183, 319n.20 Tristesse d’une étoile 183
Quid est Deus? 32 Tutuguri (series) 13, 20, 37, 49, 59, 65-
66, 93, 106, 113, 211
S
Schattenstück 93, 98 U
Schwarzer und roter Tanz 37, 59, 93 Über die Linie (series) 49, 93, 127, 157,
Schwebende Begegnung 136-39, 315n.7 186
Séraphin (series) 31, 66-67, 114, 212, Umhergetrieben, aufgewirbelt 37,
309n.33 302n.18
Sieben Passions-Texte 32 Umfassung 234
Sine nomine 96 Unbenannt (series) 96
SKOTEINÓS 37, 114 Ungemaltes Bild 93, 98
String Quartet (1968) 183
String Quartet in G minor 183 V
String Quartet no. 1 183 Verborgene Formen 59
String Quartet no. 2 183 Verwandlung (series) 13
String Quartet no. 3, Im Innersten 65, 73, Vier Studien 184
79, 97, 128, 161-62, 183, 185 Vigilia 32
String Quartet no. 4 20, 127, 129, 140, Vorgefühle 38
179, 183, 186, 305n.9, 306n.33
String Quartet no. 6, Blaubuch 21, 28, W
34, 36, 99-104, 110, 112, 116, 171, Wölfli-Lieder 66
173, 181, 183-86, 188, 193, 195-99, Wölfli-Liederbuch 66
202-03, 294, 289, 293, 297, 305n.11,
317n.18, 318n.7-8, 318n.16 Z
String Quartet no. 7, Veränderungen 28, Zeichen I – Doubles 12
67-68, 113-14, 124, 164, 171-2, 174, Zwischen den Zeilen 183
179, 181, 183, 185, 187-88, 193-97, Zwischenblick: “Selbsthenker!” 22, 124,
183

Wolgang Rihm - A Chiffre The 1980 and Beyond

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WOLFGANG RIHM, A CHIFFRE

The 1980s and Beyond

Leuven University Press

ISBN 978 94 6270 123 6

Layout: Friedemann Vervoort

Foreword by Richard McGregor 11

1 Between Classical and Individual 31

2 Between Modernism and Postmodernism 51

6 Nature and Proportions 123

Part II - Analysis 143

9 Parameter Characteristics 157

11 Group Formation: Chiffre Cycle 209

12 Chiffre Cycle: Harmony 213

13 Chiffre Cycle: Resonance 227

15 Chiffre Cycle: Symmetry 259

16 Chiffre Cycle: Proportions 265

Final Conclusions 289

Appendix – Division in Sections 297

Selected Bibliography 323

General Index 333

Index of Compositions by Wolfgang Rihm 337

Wolfgang Rihm: “Nun weißt du es”1

H ow to deal with Wolfgang Rihm” asks Seth Brodsky somewhat

The Sign and its Meaning

particular, artists for whom signification was a fundamental aspect of their

Zeichen is a work in progress. This first part bears a subtitle: ‘doubles’, a

for it is signification which defines meaning at a particular contextual point

arioso character – instrumental music to be sung, as it were” … he

Ich sehe hinauf –

The double-voice re-emerges in other contexts and notably, for example, in

presence of something … [and] with regard to the [Chiffre] pieces … the

It is therefore essential when considering Rihm’s music to have a vocabulary

I am not capable of making a work of art without coherence. I can’t

Rihm’s answer can be as surprising as the question:

Maybe there is a way in between coherence and the absence of it, as a

… attempts to find a musical language, free of restrictions in the course

Another argument for concentration on the 1980s is revealed by prominent

Berg.11 As I shall demonstrate, these allusions were not completely absent

This is an ambiguous comment on Rihm’s Fifth String Quartet by Ulrich

I refuse to deliver a format for analysis together with what I make. It is

It is my opinion that ultimately in this case every analytical attempt has

Among musicologists, the idea of the un-analysability of Rihm’s music is

… as a confused mosaic of countless previously made or revised

It is also Joachim Brügge’s opinion that Rihm’s un-analysability is no more

D ata follow Rihm’s official Catalogue by Universal Edition.1

Another striking feature of Rihm’s music is the deliberate absence of any

personal religious opinion in the oratorio Sankt-Bach-Passion. Karlheinz

Specific Terminology and Tools

With categories such as theme, motif, variation, development or

Indeed, it is also my opinion that neutral terminology is more appropriate

Generative Pole and Generated Elements

Generative Pole versus Rewriting and Overwriting

lations, adding contrapuntal elements, enlarging string passages, continuing

and dissolves for orchestra (1976-77): “… fragmentary character, in form

? 44 nœr j r bœ ™ nœ bœœ ™™ œœ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ ≈ ≈ bœœ ™™ œœ œœ œœ ™™ œœ œœ

Focal Pitch and Focal Pitch Aggregate

It is striking though how, without any preplanning, in every com­

Because the omnipresence of a Grundton does not automatically include

German are free of a historical connotation. More neutralised and more

Process and Planning

And then, while writing it down:

as opposed to the previous. In a conversation with Rihm, Christoph von

The form is not measured against a pre-existing form-ideal, but newly

It is striking though how, without any preplanning, in every com

- Bild, bar 127. The preparation of the trumpet solo is marked by