Friday, August 19, 2016

The Problem of Opera - Alban Berg, 1928

                                                 The Problem of Opera [1]

Alban Berg, 1928                                                                  edited/condensed/translation revised mwm

Pro mundo: [2]
“What do you think about the further development of opera in the contemporary context?” – Just the same as I think about every development in art: one day a masterpiece will be written that points so clearly into the future that one will be able to speak, based on the existence of this work, of a “further development in opera.” The use of “contemporary” means–such as cinema, cabaret music, amplification & loudspeakers, jazz–guarantees only that the work is contemporary. But that cannot be called a real step forward; after all, “contemporary” only means “the point we have reached,” and of itself doesn’t mean we come any farther.
In order to say of the operatic art-form that it has developed further once again–as happened with Monteverdi, Gluck, Wagner, and Schoenberg–something more is required than just piling on the latest technologies, and whatever special effects happen to be popular at the time.
But does there always have to be “further development”? Isn’t it sufficient to have the opportunity of making beautiful music for good theatre works? Or, to put it a little better, to make such good music that good theatre is (nonetheless) the result?
This brings me to my personal position about the “problem of opera,” which I need to state in order to put right an error that cropped up as soon as my opera Wozzeck appeared, and has since become widespread. Hence I hope I may be forgive this:
Pro domo: [3]
Never in my wildest dreams would I have wished to reform the art-form of opera with the composition of Wozzeck. That was far from my intentions when I began the work; neither, afterwards, did I hope for it to become exemplary. I never meant nor expected to start a “school” of opera.
Apart from the desire to make good music, to realize the inner content of Georg Büchner’s [4]
immortal drama in music as well, to transpose his poetic language into a musical one–apart from these things, even in terms of compositional technique, I had nothing else in mind than to render to the theatre what is the theatre’s. That means shaping the music in such a way that it is aware in every moment of its duty to serve the drama. Still further: the music must produce by itself everything that needed for the play to create its dramatic reality; the composer must accomplish all of the essential tasks of an ideal director. And all this without prejudicing the purely musical justification of the music, without compromising the music’s own life, which may not be hindered by anything nonmusical.
[..]
The mere necessity of making a selection from Büchner’s twenty-six loose scenes[5].. set me a task that was more musical than literary. I had to avoid repetitions if they were not capable of musical
variation, and.. group [the scenes] for the different acts of the opera. This task could only be realized
through the laws of musical architecture, not the principles of [spoken] drama. [...]
Since I heeded the demand that each scene and corresponding entr’acte[4].. should not only have its own unmistakable musical profile but should also be well-rounded and complete, it naturally came about that I relied on every means that could ensure both dramatic characterization and completeness. This is how the much-discussed appropriation of old and new musical forms–including forms usually reserved for instrumental music–came about.[7] [..]
However much one may know about the musical forms in this opera–how strictly and logically it is all “worked out,” and how ingeniously planned its details.. from the moment the curtain rises until it descends for the last time, there should be no one in the audience who notices anything of the various fugues and inventions, suite and sonata movements, variations and passacaglias.[8] Nobody must be concerned with anything else than the idea of the opera–which goes far beyond the individual fate of the lead character. And that–so I believe!–I have achieved!

[1]from Willi Reich, Alban Berg. New York,: Harcourt 1965, pages 63-66.
[2]“for the world,” i.e. a public statement [ed.]
[3]“for the house,” i.e., a private statement [ed.]
[4]The author of the play that was the source for Berg’s libretto; see note 5.
[5]The play Woyzeck by Georg Büchner was left unfinished. Berg selected and condensed the
twenty-six scenes into three acts of five scenes each, each with a distinctive music profile.
[6]instrumental music played between scenes, to give time for the set change and effect a
suitable change of musical mood and material; Berg took great care to make these transitions
dramatically effective [ed.]
[7]Some of the scenes in the opera are organized by 18th century dance forms such as gigue,
sarabande, and gavotte. These are very free and innovative developments of older formal
principles. The musical language throughout is very much avant garde for the time. [ed.]
[8]fugue: 18thc. instrumental and vocal form, in which the same (or a directly related) theme
comes in at successive intervals. (“Row, Row, Row Your Boat is a canon; same basic idea)
invention: 18thc. instrumental form, in which ideas are expanded through quasiimprovisatory
elaboration; usually modelled loosely on giving a speech
suite: 18thc. multi-movement instrumental form, a group of dances in different tempi and
rhythm
sonata: 18thc.-20thc. instrumental form, in which a series of ideas are juxtaposed and
developed [also a multi-movement form with, confusingly, the same name]
variations: 18thc.-20thc. instrumental form, in which one or two idea are repeated as a
recognizable pattern, but with specific elaborations: e.g., the first variation has two notes for
every note in the first, the second variation has four notes, the third has the same notes but
in a minor key, etc.
passacaglia: 17thc.-18thc. instrumental (and sometimes) vocal form, in which a short, usually
simple bass line is repeated, and the other instruments freely embellish it. (Pachelbel’s
Canon is the most familiar, if wretched instance.) [ed.]