Reflections on 'Elollinen': Notation, or, Notation as Cultural Practice
As seems to happen lately with many of my posts, what was intended as a “simple discussion of notation and my relationship to it through my second doctoral concert” revealed a severe naïveté that any addressing the topic substantially or sufficiently would be ‘simple’. The idea behind this post, which I started over a month ago, was to examine how I studied, translated and ultimately performed the different scores on the ‘Elollinen’ program. Wanting to be thorough, I tried to consult the pre-existing literature, specifically as it related to contemporary classical repertoire. It became clear that much of the literature on notation practice applies specifically to pre-contemporary composition (dead composers), or applies 19th century concepts of composer-intention to 20th century music. And research about contemporary notation is most often tasked with addressing the now numerous types of scores that now exist (indeterminate, graphic, standard, improvisatory, etc), and then how performers “interpret” that notation.
Admittedly, my underlying motive through this post was to identify ‘clear differences’ in notational styles of the Finnish and American scores. As a performer, I have begun to feel that in most Finnish contemporary compositions, there is more space for, or even expectation that, the performer ‘translates’ the score far beyond what is notated; that the performance practice of Finnish contemporary music requires a greater creative contribution on the part of the performer. And I wanted if not expected to see that there was an identifiable aspect of notation, in the scores themselves, that explained what I was observing.
Is it possible that my sense of greater freedom, or what I might call ‘creativity beyond the score’ in working with Finnish contemporary scores has to do with my proximity to those Finnish composers, my conversations with them, my work with the Finnish clarinetists who have premiered these scores? Does this situation generate, for me, a broader understanding of those composers’ expectations and a greater trust in myself? Are the ‘liberties’ in approaching the score really just a high level of ‘score fidelity’, by nature of my work with those composers? Possibly, but I don’t think so.
Is it also possible that my distance from the ‘American contemporary music’ scene (whatever ‘that’ is), my lack of contact with the ‘bigger name’ composers whose works I have played in my concerts, results in an artistic approach whereby I consider the notated score a much larger creative director because it is all I have to go on? Or is it possible that the works by some of the composers, like Libby Larson, John Adams, have become ‘core repertoire’ with established performer practices that allow for less ‘wiggle room’ beyond the notation? Again, possible, but I don’t think so.
The questions I posed assume that composer-fidelity and composer-intention take primary precedence in all contemporary music performance practice. And this simply isn’t the case across all contemporary music performance cultures, particularly when comparing aspects of American and Finnish contemporary music practice. I think that notation culture is shaped by the performance culture.
I think that where there is a division, even a hierarchy, between composer and performer (and audience), this establishes not only certain expectations of the performer and his or her relationship to the notated score, but also a style of notation that has less space for the performer to create something new atop or within the notation. I do not think this is inherently a bad thing, or a detriment to creativity or beautiful art music. Rather, it reflects a different expectation of the musician. On the hand, when there exists a performance culture where composer and performer cooperate (or collaborate, but not necessarily) on a more equal level, the style of notation leaves more space for performer contribution in performance. I argue that while both situations can exist, and do exist, in both Finland and United States, the latter model is more prevalent in Finland while the former model is exists to a greater degree in the United States.
*I am defining notation culture in this context as what the performer does with the score to turn notation into sound. Performance culture means, more generally, the artistic roles between performer, composer and audience in classical western contemporary music. This includes the relationships between those bodies, and any expectations that each has of itself or one another.
What is Interpretation?
When I first sat down (five weeks ago) to begin this post, I came up with the word “translate” to define my work with (most) contemporary American scores in my research thus far, and “interpret” to define what I did more often when working with Finnish scores. My idea was to somehow explain that while neither is artistically superior and both certainly require a great deal of skill and time, “translation” implies that the performer is a conduit between composer and audience, while “interpret” signified an equally important contribution on the part of the performer to the composition in order to generate a performance. “Translation” signifies the release of obligation or expectation that the performer alters significantly what is notated in the score, while “interpretation” assumes and expects greater performer contribution outside of and in addition to what is notated.
Historically, what I call “translation” has been referred to as Aufführungspraxis, or the understanding “that compositions be fully composed prior to performance” (Goehr 1998, 139). In most of the 19th and 20th centuries, Aufführungspraxis and the work concept (Werktreue) went hand-in-hand (as discussed in this post). It has been widely studied that a lot of contemporary classical music has moved away from Aufführungspraxis towards Ausführungspraxis, such as the notation culture of early “Downtown composers”, complex scores, graphic notation and improvisation. In practical terms, one could argue that all notated classical music has elements of both Aus- and Aufführungspraxis, and it is the job of the performer to navigate between composer intention (as far as it can be ‘read’ through a score) and the performer’s creative decision-making. The space between that which is notated and that which sounds is huge and grey.
Throughout most of the 20th century, Interpretation was defined as a “personal reading” of a score, not synonymous but rather ‘better than’ mere performance (Dreyfus 2020, 161). Interpretation was distinct from rendition or execution, conceptually adhering closely to work-fidelity while simultaneously permitting a certain amount of individualism. As the development of music publishing in the nineteenth century has been linked closely with the development of Werktreue concept, so can the advent of recording be linked to the adoption of Interpretation as a way to give some power of authority and autonomy back to the performer.
Considering the centrality of music notation to the work-concept and its associated idealist ontology of music, we may find that different notation cultures articulate different ontologies of music. (Schuiling 2019, 443-444)
The value placed on work-fidelity, the most extreme versions displayed as a religious-like adherence to the notated score, and importance of composer-intention in performance practice remains prevalent among many contemporary composers today, as well as pedagogically in instrumental education of new and old musics. The way composers treat notation, and the level to which they believe the score to be all-containing, is as much a reflection of musical taste and aesthetics as it is a reflection of performance culture and the relationship between composition (composer) and performance (performer). As Schuiling writes, notation culture demonstrates different aesthetic values and sets up different artistic expectations, even within a “style” of contemporary music or the contemporary music of a given place. It would be a mistake, I believe, to assume that the performance practice of all contemporary classical music primarily values work-fidelity, or composer-intention) over other aspects of performance practice like creativity, individualism or independence.
Life of Birds, Capricci ‘Hummingbird Romance’
Perhaps we can seek the answer to the question of notation’s musicality not in its representation of musical structures, but in its mediation of the social and creative agency of musicians. (Schuiling 2019, 431)
Stylistically and aesthetically, Mason Bates’ Life of Birds and Augusta Read Thomas’ Capricci ‘Hummingbird Romance’ are very different experiences to perform and listen to. Life of Birds, like John Adams’ Gnarly Buttons and Libby Larson’s Dancing Solo, is a simple, clearly notated score that is idiomatic sounding. It ‘sounds how it looks’, with a sonic language that encompasses different harmonic styles from neoclassic to popular to jazz. Preparing these works was ‘textbook’ in my pedagogical instrumental background - metronome set on slow, reading through the piece over and over, increasing the tempi every session. When performance tempi were reached, with the technical embodied in the hands and the harmonies and sonic picture embedded mentally, it felt nearly ready for performance. Capricci is a denser score. It is heavily notated, with a lot of information (articulation, dynamics, pitch, style, speed) all changing rapidly. While conceptually I could imagine how the work would sound by looking at the score, it took picking up my instrument and hearing the harmonic and sonic relationship between flute and clarinet in order to understand the musical ‘role’ of the notation. The practice process took longer, but the basic path was actually the same as the Bates. Most of the preparation for performance was spent translating the score to sound. Once I felt that I had embodied the notes, rhythms, dynamics, and styles notated in the score, I felt that the work was performance ready.
It would be a misconception to imply that the translation process is easy, or that it lacks creativity or musical knowledge. Reading and playing the notes is not the same as learning the music. And no two performed translations of a score are identical, they will sound different depending on the performing artistic. But in performing these works, there is less for the performer to create on top of or in addition to the score. When preparing these works for ‘Imagined Models’ and ‘Elollinen’, there was little I felt that I could or should add to the score; my musical role in the performance was most dominantly to learn what the composer had notated, physically and sonically, and to perform to the best of my ability.
I had the opportunity to interview August Read Thomas in December 2019, and when I asked her about the role of the performer and the role of the composer, she said that the composer’s job is to “sculpt and polish pieces” and the player’s job is to “translate and bring [the work] to the audience” (Personal Interview, 2019). In her model, there is no expectation of performer by the composer to elaborate extensively on the written notation. The composer has provided, in the score, all the music information and the performers job is to make the artistic idea sound. Composer and clarinetist Derek Bermel made a similar discussion in an interview with Rachel Yoder when asked about his performance of John Adams’ Gnarly Buttons with the composer conducting. Bermel said, “[Adams] wants what he writes, and the notation is pretty clear”, implying that the focus on the performer is sounding Adams’ score rather than creating something individual to the performer (Yoder, 2020).
This approach to notation, and the situating of the performer as conduit between composer and audience, could be considered a continuation of performance practices of the 19th and 20th centuries. It reflects a performance culture where there exists a division between composer and performer, each having specific “jobs” in the performance practice of classical music. This often can feel hierarchical; the notion that the composer is the creator and the musician is the performer can create a misunderstanding amongst musician and composer, and most especially audience, as to the artistic contribution and value of both performer and composer in the music-making process. But it is a model that has existed with historical precedent and current necessity - composers are commissioned, hired, to provide a score it is most often expected to be a finished product. Scores that require performer contribution, when the performer does not understand that expectation as part of both the notation and performance culture, can be judged to be ‘sloppy’ or ‘unfinished’.
Limn, Everyday Etudes: Gardening
Different musical ontologies allow musicians to position themselves differently as agents in relation to the various processes of social interaction that characterize performance. (Schuiling 2019, 444)
The alternative model is one in which performer is expected to contribute to the score in order to generate performance, an interpretive notation culture. Works from “Elollinen” in which I felt that performance required more interpretation of the notated score were Limn and Everyday Etudes: Gardening. As discussed in my previous post about Shared Ownership, my work with Heikki Nikula revealed that musical content construed by the Limn score went beyond a literal reading, or translation, of the notation. This is not to say that the score was less detailed, or contained less information, than the Bates or Thomas scores previously mentioned. But working with Heikki made it very clear that there was space, conceptually, and an expectation that the performer make decisions about the notation to yield a performance.
Another example from “Elollinen” was Ville Raasakka’s Everyday Etudes: Gardening. While I did work with Ville on the notation for the new edition, that collaborative work demonstrated to me an expectation by the composer that the performer bring his or her artistic opinion to the score in order to generate performance. Even though I contributed to an updated, more informative notation, to me, the notation still provides space for the bass clarinetist to make individual decisions in a performance. If the score were to be just translated to sound, the performance can be lacking particularly an understanding of the relationship between the bass clarinet, objects and electronics.
One more score that I want to discuss in this regard is Derek Bermel’s duet for clarinet and cello, Coming Together. I performed this work in a different concert about a month and a half after “Elollinen” but consider it to be part of that chapter. In appearance, the score looks as clear as an Adams, or Larson score. But I found that when I started practicing, and later performing, the aural result only began in the score. What I mean to say is there was a space between the notation and the sound where I felt obligated and expected (though I have never met or worked with Bermel) to contribute my musical opinion in order to sound the notation. I was comforted, actually, when I came across Yoder’s interview. When asked about how clarinetists should approach his music, Bermel replies (Yoder, 2020):
I look for freedom in performances. Freedom of sound, freedom to play up the theatrical impulses in the piece. In new music there’s a common assumption that one has to be a slave to the written page, an overly inflated attachment to the importance of notation. Notation is just a guide. When I listen to performers playing my music, my main concern is that they have a bigger idea about what they want to do with the piece. If they’re simply reading notes and rhythms, they’re not yet communicating with the audience. The music needs to jump off the page, the circle must be made complete – composer, performer, audience.
For Bermel, there is an expectation that the performer commit their own artistic decisions and that this is as much as part of the music as what is notated by the composer. I argue that this expectation is in fact notated by composers who share this opinion. That “notation is just a guide” can be said of most classical contemporary scores to some degree, but it is to a far greater extent in some notation cultures, and a much lesser extent in others.
In Closing
It also helps such fantasies [the ability for performer to intuit, spiritually, composer intention] when the phantom composer is dead and buried, thereby preventing a sudden and inconvenient intrusion. That is, our penchant for nurturing such illusions is in indirect proportion to the real possibility that the composer or his emissary might actually burst our imaginary balloon. (One can easily see the limitations of this empathetic method for the performance of contemporary music when the composer is alive and kicking.)
Dreyfus’ above statement (2020, 176) alludes to a problem I brought up at the very opening - how to understand composer-intention, and how claim work-fidelity in one’s own interpretation when the composer is “alive and kicking”. This does not even take into consideration when composers are still performers, like Derek Bermel. Jeremy Cox’s “What I Say and What I Do” exposes the challenges in understanding composer-intention when composers’ perform their own works, often with a lot of liberty taken with their own notation (in Sound and Score, 2013). What I did not consider until recently was whether work-fidelity was still valued in contemporary music performance and to what degree composer-intention aligned with performer expectation.
In hindsight, I should have realized that the Werktreue model was not universal. When I made the presentation, “Hitting the Right Notes: The artistic role of accuracy in the performance of unaccompanied solo clarinet repertoire” at SAR10 in Zurich (which I wrote about here), I had a audience member comment afterwards something like, “no contemporary performer would actually use the word accuracy”. The implication was that I was applying outdated terminology and an outdated concept to contemporary music - score fidelity was outdated. And while in some ways I agreed the sentiment, the truth is that accuracy is still valued when playing works by some contemporary composers. In fact, in reacting to the recording of her piece on “Elollinen”, Augusta Read Thomas praised the musicality and the accuracy of the performance. And valuing accuracy is not a-musical, it reflects a different performance and notational culture.
While I make a distinction between translation and interpretation as a specification of the expected level of performer-contribution to the score, there are scholars who see performer agency in all forms of notation. Ian Pace, for example, as written extensively on the idea that notation itself is a presentation of possibilities, signifying to performers what not to do as opposed to what to do (Pace 2009, 155). It could also be said that contemporary styles of prescriptive, or active notation, stand to increase performer agency and contribution. Descriptive notation, which “inform[s] us of the sound of a musical work” can lead to a focus on notational accuracy, while prescriptive notation “informs us of the method of producing this sound”, leaving everything else to the performer (Kanno 2007, 232). Further, Kanno argues that the third stage of work by any performer is “making it [the notation] ‘musical’ so that it doesn’t sound like a direct translation from notation to sound”, alluding to artistic contributions that performers make in performance of any work, whether the notation is descriptive or prescriptive (Kanno 2007, 233).
I do not think that notational culture is not binary - one does not translate or interpret exclusively. There are pieces from “Elollinen”, like Oi kuu and Plus II where I am still thinking about how much I, as a player, interpreted or translated the scores in performance. And I will admit that I hope the ‘answer’ will come from interviewing the composers. But even in a piece like Ripple Reflected, I cannot decide whether to use the word interpret or translate. I worked with Jack and commissioned the piece, and even spoke about the improvisatory nature of performing that work and the notational ambiguity resulting from the electronics part not being fully notated. But I wonder if, despite my shared ownership, the notational culture reflected was one of translation more than interpretation. And while I think the concept of shared ownership is linked very much to an interpretive notation culture, in the sense that shared ownership implies performer contribution in similar ways as interpretive notation culture, they are not always shared in a piece.
—————
Sources
Assis, Paulo de. Sound & Score. Leuven: Leuven Univ. Press, 2013. Web.
Mieko Kanno, ‘Prescriptive Notation’, in Webb, Contemporary Performance, p. 232.
Pace, I. Notation, Time and the Performer’s Relationship to the Score in Contemporary Music. Leuven University Press, 2009. Print.
———Beyond Werktreue: Ideologies of New Music Performance and Performers., 2014. Print.
Schuiling, Floris. 2019. "Notation Cultures: Towards an Ethnomusicology of Notation." Journal of the Royal Musical Association 144 (2): 429-458. doi:10.1080/02690403.2019.1651508. http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/02690403.2019.1651508.
Thomas, Augusta Read. Personal Interview. 22 December 2019.
Yoder, Rachel. Interview with Derek Bermel. The Clarinet. Volume 47 Issue 4, September 2020. Available online <https://clarinet.org/2020/09/27/interview-derek-bermel/>.