How Control in Symphonic Music was Achieved

 

 

What could be more natural than the stirring rustle of strings and winds in the first movement of Beethoven's Sixth Symphony--the Pastoral? It is more than beautiful, it is environmentally exacting to the point that the wind, the birds, and the freshness of a spring morning are presented to the ears of the hearer as if better than the original. The same can be said of the waves of lush polyphony from Mahler's Eighth Symphony--the Symphony of a Thousand (to describe the number of performers required to bring about its premier performance). What could be more pristine, so pure, so in tune, and so natural to the ear?

 

In fact, the beautiful sounds of the symphony orchestra--recorded or in live performance--are the result of compromise after compromise. With an increasing understanding of the physics of sound and the differing characteristics of sound-producing instruments--including the voice--musical technologists over many centuries cheated on the physics and compromised on the integrity of individual instruments in order to give us the overall strength, tone, and grandeur of the orchestra. Devoid of the sophisticated instrumentation and electronic technologies that are commonplace in the modern world, musicians, instrument manufacturers, conductors, composers, and investors (typically of royal standing) worked relentlessly to perfect the symphonic art.

 

 

Though with limited tools and incomplete understanding of the physics underlying the production and perception of sound, these individuals engaged in a process of trial and error that resulted in stunning success--especially when viewed from our modern day. With our modern tools, we crudely attempt to synthesize the sound and characteristics of the ancient instruments with little success. We try to improve on the materials and methods in instrument manufacture with only marginal success. With respect to the fine string instruments--as is common knowledge--we do not even come close to the masters of Cremona.

 

 

Such stunning success came through patient application of the mind, relentless training of the hands, ears, and breath, and a slow, painful process of study, understanding, and compromise. Over time, requirements of the ensemble gradually won out over the desires of the soloist. Purists from one discipline were forced to compromise their instrument or their genre for the good of the whole--as often as not by attrition (they died off). In the end, even compromised 'ensemble' instruments were used in favor of similar instruments designed for their singular phonetic purity.

 

Because of success in developing a common notational system every symphony musician can understand, let alone play any part--though few tuba players spend their time on violin concertos. There is great advantage in the fact that any symphonic musician can read and understand the music of the others. Original composers who used consolidated scores that integrate everything into one predetermined whole wrote such music. When in doubt, conductors are on hand to interpret and to mediate.

 

Much is said about the great composers. This is understandable--given their ability to take this great institution and arrange its elements in a satisfying and often inspiring way. In this study, we focus more on the musical innovators--the inventors and manufacturers and theorists that made the tools available to the composers themselves. Of course, many of the great composers themselves innovated in this way--collaborating with (and acting as) instrumentalists and manufacturers and theorists.

 

Thus, music, at least symphonic music, is in control--to our eternal benefit. Does this have anything to do with our Dilbert-driven corporate environment in which control is a dirty word? My position is yes--that this is all possible. Surely Dilbert himself would enjoy a good concert--though he might prefer to witness the intrigue backstage that exists even in the sainted sphere of the symphony.