7/31/20

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Alban Berg (1885-1935)

Arnold Schoenberg, father of the dodecaphonic (or "“twelve-tone”) method and topic of a previous post, had three students of note during his time developing his approach to atonality. Each of the three - Anton Webern, Hanns Eisler, and Alban Berg, developed distinct aesthetic styles despite following Schoenberg’s methods with little experimentation. That is to say that for as limiting as a system based on tone rows may seem, there is a remarkable difference in how all three of Schoenberg’s students outputs as composers sound. Alban Berg’s direction is particularly interesting: as atonality became one of the defining styles of the 20th century, many of Berg’s pieces sought to combine the twelve-tone technique with Romantic era structure and lyricism. His Violin Concerto is one of his most famous pieces (rivaled only by the fame of his Lyric Suite and opera Wozzeck), serving as a distinct challenge for violinists and as a testament to Berg’s brilliance as a composer.

With this post being my final one for the foreseeable future, I knew that I had to select a piece as legendary and fitting as my first post (which I wrote on Olivier Messiaen’s Turangalîla-Symphonie). So before I dive into what makes Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto great, I’d like to first share why I selected it for this post in particular. First, it is important to know that this piece serves as Berg’s last completed composition before his death a few months later in 1935 - the world premiere took place the next year, with the Ukrainian violinist Louis Krasner (who commissioned Berg to write the piece) soloing. In addition, and on a much more personal note, I can remember listening to (and genuinely enjoying) this piece in the heat of my own infatuation with Romantic era music, making it perhaps the first atonal piece which I didn’t immediately lose interest in. Just to be clear, this was long before my dive into the academic world of music at a point in my life when I likely couldn’t even define what serialism is. That - while I don’t mean to tout my own stubbornness - is a remarkable feat for a piece which falls very blatantly outside of the Romantic tradition, and one that would warrant my attention years later when I would inevitably start writing a blog about some of my favorite pieces of music.

So what makes Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto so “great” or “brilliant”? As I’ve mentioned before, there is no getting around the fact that atonal music is hard to approach - with its roots so firmly set in the academic and mathematical side of music, there is often very little for the casual listener to hang on to while listening. Berg, however, goes to quite some lengths to undo the ‘repelling effect’ of atonal music by not only borrowing traditional forms, but also marrying atonalism with functional, diatonic harmony. The execution of this is truly remarkable: while still using a standard tone row (which includes all twelve chromatic pitches), Berg is careful to form groups/subsets within the row that imply certain chords and harmonies. So, while Alban Berg does bend the rules of true serialism and atonality, he is able to create a consistent harmonic landscape that seems to exist somewhere between the worlds of Beethoven and Schoenberg. That being said, Berg is also careful to not lose sight of the fact that the piece is a concertante work for violin, and specifically makes use of the open strings (G, D, A, and E) in the tone row as well as demanding technical passages (like the relentless double-, triple-, and even quadruple-stops that kick off the second movement) that uniquely fit the abilities and limitations of the instrument. Even the orchestration screams “Romantic violin concerto,” with everything from lush tutti sections to delicate exposed passages. Perhaps the greatest achievement of this piece, however, is the seamless confluence of two polar opposites that come together in a completely fresh and tasteful way.

Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto is one of those pieces that will stand the test of time. Atonality does not sell very easily to many audiences, and yet this piece is able to capture the attention of people with all sorts of musical tastes. It was for me, as I am sure it is for many others, a gateway drug into the world of serialism and (more generally speaking) music of the 20th century, and for that I cannot give it enough praise. It takes a truly special composer to write a piece that honors Romantic tradition by not only connecting it to, but alloying it with Schoenberg’s dodecaphonic technique without any ‘weak links.’ Though this may be a stretch, the piece is a perfectly executed “chicken and waffles”: while it seems like something so savory could never pair with something so sweet, it comes together in a strange and beautiful way that doesn’t detract from any one quality. The piece may not immediately speak to you, and that’s fine - there are plenty of moments in which the atonality seems to become so thick that even the most prepared listeners lose the romantic sense of the piece. That in mind, I would (as I usually do) recommend coming back the piece later, even if “later” becomes years. Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto is a piece that is always ready for analysis, no matter how much you know about theory or the twelve tone system. In a letter about the piece, Berg wrote, “I am probably more surprised by it than [Krasner] will be (...) the work gave me more and more joy. I hope - no, I have the confident belief - that I have succeeded.” Below I am linking a recording done by Itzhak Perlman with the Boston Symphony Orchestra which is accompanied by the score. With that, I thank you for reading my many posts and for trusting me with your attention and ears. Many of the pieces I picked for this blog series were picked knowing that they would challenge many listeners, and I believe that today’s piece will do the same. I hope that you will give the piece a chance, and trust that composers like Berg have a lot to say even with minimal analysis and context. Remember - it doesn’t take any theoretical knowledge to understand or like a piece of music.