Dunsby, Jonathan, Whittall, Arnold

Introduction
pp. 3-10
Dunsby, Jonathan, Whittall, Arnold, (1988) Music analysis in theory and practice, London: Faber Music Ltd

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Course of Study: MUSI1281 - Analysis 1: Elements of Tonal Theory and Practice

Title: Music analysis in theory and practice
Name of Author: Dunsby, Jonathan, Whittall, Arnold

Name of Publisher: Faber Music Ltd

 1

Introduction

Pierre Boulez has defined what he calls

the indispensable constituents of an 'active' analytical method: it must
begin with the most minute and exact observation possible of the musical
facts confronting us; it is then a question of finding a plan, a law of internal
organization which takes account of these facts with the maximum coher-
ence; finally comes the interpretation of the compositional laws deduced
from this special application. All these stages are necessary; one's studies
are of merely technical interest if they are not followed through to the
highest point - the interpretation of the structure; only at this stage can one
be sure that the work has been assimilated and understood. [Boulez,
1975: 18]
The Boulez 'method' is a stimulus and a challenge, especially in
view of the fact that he is scathing about
those would-be 'historical' surveys of the present situation which resemble
both journalism and the distribution of prizes ... the 'tactical gossip' on
which such accounts depend can neither cover up nor compensate for their
weakness of thought and total lack of serious study of the scores them-
selves. [ : 16]
Although this invective is aimed specifically at commentators on
contemporary music, it is undeniable that analysis, which Boulez
calls 'the serious study of the scores themselves', is vulnerable to
superficiality and incompetence, whatever the period of the music
in question. For too long it has been assumed that analysis needs
only to be applied, as a direct outgrowth of the analyst's innate
musical sensitivity and understanding, rather than studied, as a
discipline in its own right.
Boulez is less concerned with providing detailed models for
analytical activity than with stating the necessary qualifications for
the analyst. Analysts must be able to undertake 'the most minute
and exact observation possible' of the 'facts' presented - presumably
by a score - with the aim of establishing 'a plan, a law of internal
4 Part I

organization'. Boulez does not speculate on the likelihood of _this

plan resembling that of other collections of musical facts, but since
the plan is to be 'a law of internal organization which takes account
of these facts with the maximum coherence', it will probably
display certain fundamental features of musical organization that
tend to occur whatever the period, or style, of a work: re~etition,
variation, contrast, connection, juxtaposition - bearing in mind
always that 'the maximum coherence' implies a unity that embraces
diversity, an emphasis on musical similarity rather than on musical
contrast. It follows that, in order to begin to discover such a pl_an,
the analyst will need to be familiar with plans, with analyncal
models, that have been proposed already _ and accepted - for
music of different periods, and familiar too with how they work.
Boulez believes that the 'highest point' of his active analyucal
method is a demonstration that 'the work has been assimilated and
understood'. Of course, there is a widely held belief that, just as
education can only 'bring out' something already there, so analysis
can only strengthen innate understanding: that is, it can encourage
us to make more of our innate understanding through the exercise
of the intellect, rather than actually create understanding from
scratch. Nevertheless, the specific goal of analytical activity as
defined by Boulez is clear, and there can be no denying that the
main aim of the analyst is, through study, the enhanced under-
standing and enjoyment of particular compositions - even if the
feeling that, literally, 'I fully understand this work' is likely to be
experienced by few musicians, analysts or not. Nor should Boulez's
emphasis on 'the work' be taken to mean that the study of analysis
must of necessity begin with complete compositions, any more than
does the study of composition or performance. Indeed, if Boulez
had been writing about the study of analysis rather than, essentially,
the application of analysis, he might well have proposed the study
of analytical techniques and models, rather than compositions, as a
preliminary to analysis itself.
It is this latter kind of study which we propose. Although the
reader will find a significant difference of emphasis between the
approaches to the study of tonal and post-tonal music, in neither
case is 'analysis' presented as a sequence of case studies, moving
from small pieces to large across as wide a range of genres and
styles as possible. The 'scores themselves' remain subordinate to the
demonstration and discussion of analytical techniques (primarily
those associated with writers other than ourselves): in other words,
 Introduction 5

this book is an introduction to the study of analysis as a subject

with its own history, and only a prelude to the kind of wide-
ranging, sophisticated, analytical practice to which most students
(and specialists) aspire. It is not a textbook or workbook, or a
course programme complete with exercises and answers, as normally
understood. It is a guide to ideas and methods. Its object is not to
lay down programmes, but to encourage students to press for them,
and teachers to provide them.
Analysis is not universally accepted as a necessary part of all
curricula. Yet a slow but distinct change in academic attitudes has
been taking place in recent years, perhaps reflecting a significant
shift of opinion in the wider musical world. Boulez, for one, does
not regard analysis as arid or intrusive: 'I am convinced that
however perceptive the composer, he cannot imagine the con-
sequences, immediate or ultimate, of what he has written, and that
his perception is not necessarily more acute than that of the analyst
(as I see him).' [ : 18] Others are less tolerant, more ready to dismiss
the activity of analysis as destructive dissection: assertions, like the
literary critic Denis Donoghue's, that analysts are 'zealots of
explanation' who 'want to deny the arts their mystery' may still be
heard today (see Whittall, 1982). It will come as no surprise that
this book takes issue with the argument that 'mystery' is a necessary
part of all pleasure. Indeed, our account is founded on the belief
that analysis can and should enhance appreciation, or aesthetic
enjoyment, and intensify rather than inhibit instinctive responses to
music. In any case, we do not believe many would subscribe to the
idea that a piece of music can be said to be fully understood (and
Boulez is not, surely, using the word in an absolute sense) or fully
explained: perhaps the greatest analytical zealot of explanation to
date, Heinrich Schenker, himself regarded the effect of musical
organization as essentially mysterious: 'The power of will and
imagination which lives through the transformations of a master-
work reaches us in our spirit as a power of imagination.' [Schenker,
1979: 6]
It may still be claimed in some quarters that it is wrong to bring
to expression or consciousness, through analysis, precisely those
factors which composers wish to suppress. And it is true that many
composers find most kinds of analysis irrelevant, even improper, in
their probings and exposings; so the analyst can offer only the
evidence of experience - that knowledge leaves the experience of
music richer, not poorer.
6 Part I

This book emphasizes 'analysis' rather than 'theory', the practical

application of particular techniques rather than the theoretical
preliminaries which deal generally with technical matters in ways
not restricted to a few simple compositional instances. We do not
wish to press for a hard-and-fast distinction between the two terms
- not least because, in America at any rate, the latter implies and
subsumes the former. But, for the most part, the 'theory equals
general, analysis equals specific' emphasis obtains in the following
pages.
It follows that we indicate what the basics for the study of
analysis might be rather than offering a history of analytical theory
and practice or a comprehensive demonstration of analysis in
practice. Thus another preliminary issue arises, for even if it is
accepted that analysis is far from counterproductive, some may
object that it depends, like both composition and criticism, too
crucially on the inventiveness and imagination of individual minds
to be taught and studied systematically. Difficult though it always is
to recognize the difference between what can and cannot be taught
- to whom and by whom - some suggestions can be offered.
To consider first the obvious analogy, it is sometimes stated that
'composition cannot be taught'. This implies that there is a clear
division between the study of, say, strict counterpoint or figured
bass, as relatively 'concrete and explicit "musical disciplines" whose
rules can be stated simply and without restriction in terms of
tangible musical entities' [Rothgeb, 1981: 144], and free composition
in a contemporary style. In free composition, an experienced teacher
can still be of great help to a relative beginner, but any 'rules'
proposed are just as important as stimuli for contradiction as they
are for literal guidance. Many teachers argue that composers are
most likely to thrive if they have first worked through the relatively
concrete and explicit musical disciplines. Similarly, students of
analysis can only benefit from a course of study that concentrates
on fundamentals, that detaches technical matters, provisionally,
from the more general historical and stylistic contexts to which they
belong. Indeed, as the next chapter will argue, the need for a
distinct discipline known as 'music analysis' is itself the result of the
increasingly urgent need to complement - not to replace - the
evidently technical and theoretical aspects of all historical, music-
ological studies. If analysis prospers as a discipline concerned with
the 'serious study of the scores themselves', then the general musical
histories of later generations may come to differ greatly from many
 Introduction 7

of the histories, the 'lives and works', admired today.

It is not our intention in adopting this technical, and funda-
mentally preparatory, approach to aim also at the kind of com-
prehensiveness that discusses and demonstrates the application of
analytical techniques to music of all periods, in all styles and forms.
Anyone who regards as 'fundamental issues' the analysis of music
from before 1700, opera and music drama, large-scale twentieth-
century works (including indeterminate or minimalist compositions),
or the whole field of non-Western music, will be disappointed to find
these topics ignored or barely considered. Our attention is confined
to the particularly significant developments in analysis that have
taken place in connection with the study of non-operatic music
from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and of relatively
small-scale atonal and twelve-note compositions. One of the factors
that has so far prevented analysis from becoming a more useful
servant of music history is the long-standing yet never substantiated
assumption that such relatively restricted fundamental studies
are unnecessary. In fact, engagement with what Schenker called
'masterpieces' and with the most compelling examples of early
post-tonal music is an education that any modern musician should
feel privileged to undergo. Many students aspire to it, and few
regret it.
Nevertheless, any publication that concerns itself exclusively
with such matters must inevitably be intended to accompany and
stimulate close study, rather than to be read casually. One runs the
risk of exhausting a reader's patience in demonstrating, verbally
and graphically, the inexhaustibility (and mystery!) of even the
shortest composition. But patience here means taking the time to
study all the issues raised and their implications. Too much would-
be analysis jumps to conclusions; while the inspired leap of
imagination may be invaluable to the analyst as much as to the
composer, it cannot be a substitute for thoroughness and clarity.
Relatively general, selective technical accounts of a work may well
be analytical in intention, but only if they reflect the rigorous
analytical discipline that emerges from rigorous study of the
discipline.
One further introductory point needs to be made, concerning the
contrasts of approach between the two central parts of this book,
'Aspects of Tonal Analysis' and 'The Elements of Atonality'.
Schenker has become the recognized point of reference for theories
of tonal structure, and we begin with the main issues in Schenkerian
8 Part I
method - its theoretical origins, the most pressing questions to arise
in its practice, and its development to a state where its application
to post-tonal music seemed one viable option for bringing
'Schenkerism' up to date. All subsequent discussion in Part II - of
Tovey, Schoenberg, Meyer and others - is therefore conducted
against this Schenkerian backdrop (though, admittedly, there is
competition from a Schoenbergian backdrop, which is as unavoid-
able as it is welcome). Such emphasis could well lead to the brusque
dismissal of all 'non-Schenkerian' ideas, or to an unproductive
focus on conflict and polemic. It is all too easy to place the great
analysts of the past in apparently terminal conflict; to show how
Schoenberg, taken literally and fully, could make nonsense of
Schenker, just as Tovey could make nonsense of both. We have
aimed to cull what is most instructive from various analysts con-
sidered by a measure of common consent to have put forward
valuable thoughts that a student may not only find inspiring, but
may also use in practice.
In 'Aspects of Tonal Analysis', therefore, we have chosen to
present and comment on a relatively wide variety of music, which
the student can follow up in recommended literature. The implication
here is that (as was indicated earlier) it is possible and desirable to
acquire experience of particular analytical techniques without seek-
ing at the earliest opportunity to explore them in complete
compositions, whether small- or large-scale. (An experienced teacher
could well decide to supplement such a scheme of study with model
analyses of entire pieces, even if students themselves cannot
immediately be expected to undertake similar analyses.) It is with
some confidence, with respect to tonal music, that we separate
specific technical elements from complete context, given that the
significance of various techniques for the analysis of this repertoire
is not in much doubt. There is more doubt about techniques for the
analysis of post-tonal music; and so the fundamental contrast
between tonality and atonality is reflected in the way these topics
are approached. Other writers, for other purposes, might find it
perfectly credible to present an account of all-important' Aspects of
Tonal Analysis' by means of a discussion of a few complete, small-
scale works by seminal composers: chorales, minuets, mazurkas,
intermezzos. Equally, they might be able to devise a study of the
'Elements of Atonality' that instances certain essential analytical
consequences of particular theories or of acknowledged com-
positional procedures without restricting the materials of that study
 Introduction 9

to a few complete miniatures. It is for readers to decide, as always,

whether particular ends are justified by particular means.
Such is the diversity and richness of twentieth-century compo-
sition that considerable dissent may be aroused by the implication
of Part Ill that, of all its aspects, atonality as practised by Schoenberg
and Webern between c. 1910 and 1940 is the most important. Of
course, atonality is not in itself all-pervading in twentieth-century
music. But we believe that more purposeful progress through that
diversity and richness is likely after an exploration of the issues and
compositions emphasized in Parts III and IV of this book. Historical
and critical awareness will probably exceed analytical experience to
begin with, and the process of putting the latter at the service of the
former (to such effect that the student's awareness may eventually
be transformed) should never be rushed. Simply because so many
major composers of this century have made pronouncements, often
quite elaborate, about technique and style, and so many books and
articles have given prominence to the discussion of repertoire, the
possibility and desirability of an approach that involves what are in
some respects very elementary preliminaries should, for once, be
argued and demonstrated at length.
It may seem that by not only separating 'Aspects of Tonal
Analysis' from 'The Elements of Atonality', but also adopting
different approaches to them, we are inviting the reader to work
through Parts II and III in tandem or, indeed, through one to the
exclusion of the other. It is certainly hoped that in analysis courses,
or in courses on tonal or post-tonal music, either part will be found
useful on its own. Nevertheless, we recommend that the book be
read sequentially from beginning to end. It attempts to provoke
thought about analysis, a constant attention to premiss and goal, a
continual musical and intellectual self-awareness. Just as our
contemporary musical culture cannot be adequately comprehended
if all reference to events before 1908 is rigorously excluded, so a
musician who fails to study the eventual response or reaction to
tonality - in the subsequent period when, after all, most of the
highly valued theories of tonality were written - will be missing a
vital ingredient in developing a sensitivity to the art of music over
the last few centuries. It will be evident that we feel it is premature
to attempt a consistent overview of analytical issues from Bach to
Webern, or from Aristoxenus to Forte, and intend instead to show
the discipline as turning prospectively and retrospectively around
the axis of the early years of this century. Nevertheless, it is much
10 Part I
more likely that the student will be able to think clearly and
confidently about the hard issues of atonality if he or she has
explored how the hard issues of tonality have been discussed by
theorists.
One final, immense topic should be touched on here, if only then
to be evaded: the question, not of why, or of how we analyse, but of
what we analyse. Much energy continues to be channelled into
attempts to develop theories centering on the simple fact that music
is a phenomenon we perceive: it is not just marks on a page, but
sounds experienced in performance or in the mind and 'inner ear'.
Analysts who try to exclude from their accounts the impact of how
the score sounds are rightly ridiculed (though there may be some
ultimate purpose in trying to distinguish theoretically between
'sense' and 'sound'). Yet the 'reception' of music can be represented
in one particularly compelling way through analytical techniques
primarily concerned with the score as an actual structure. A score is
as potentially expressive in performance as it is inherently good,
bad or indifferent in quality - judged by those who choose to
become familiar with it. An analytical technique that can account
definitively for all the elements in a piece of music would be almost
unimaginably sophisticated compared with present-day methods;
and, for the moment, we must be content with what we have, not
using the imaginary as a stick with which to beat the actual.
Analysis is a young discipline, and even today its main weakness is
not that its fruits are immature, in the sense of unformed, but that
they are sketchy. The analyst who reaches the stage of working
with complete compositions must be exhaustive without - when it
comes to communicating the results - also being exhausting. An
ability to achieve such balance can, like outstanding success in
composition, be encouraged, but probably not taught.