The Eventuality of Schoenberg
Harvey Sachs' latest book takes a new approach in discussing the life and contributions of the polarizing pioneer of twelve-tone music
Schoenberg: Why He Matters
by Harvey Sachs
Liveright, 272 pp., $29.95
As the story goes, on a late summer day in 1936, Arnold Schoenberg began sharpening his oversized pencil with a knife. He had just been hired to join the music department at UCLA and was seated at a desk at the front of the lecture hall waiting for his students to be seated. After a few minutes of chattering the students finally quieted down in anticipation of the composer’s lesson. Nearly two minutes of complete silence elapsed. Then, Schoenberg suddenly reared his hand back and smashed the pencil — point first — into the desk. The students gasped in horror at the sudden outburst to which he calmly responded, “And now you understand the concept of ‘tension and release.’”
“I renounced a tonal center.” - Arnold Schoenberg
For most, Arnold Schoenberg is credited (or blamed) for destroying conventional tonality. Though earlier composers flirted with and stretched the boundaries of traditional functional harmonies, it is Schoenberg who had the fortitude to fully embrace a revolutionary new musical language. In his latest book, Toscanini: Musician of Conscience author Harvey Sachs delivers one of the most colorful and circumspect biographies and analyses of one of classical music’s most polarizing figures. Though not a fully realized biography in the traditional sense, much historical information is provided and clearly. The book’s subtitle, Why He Matters, serves as only part of the book’s purpose with the rest being Sachs’ exploration of the divide over Schoenberg’s contributions. Although the author has great respect for his subject, this book is no hagiography. In fact, Sachs serves as the most reliable narrator freely acknowledging the difficulty with which not only the layman, but also the classical music enthusiast, can have with absorbing a Schoenberg piece.
“Now that atonality and the twelve-tone technique (and its offshoots) have been with us for a century we may safely say that they have proved to be dead ends for most listeners and for many—perhaps even most—professional performing musicians as well.”
Schoenberg believed that it was an obvious and natural evolution of music to break tonality. Sachs summarizes his subject’s feelings on the “dilemma [of tonality]”: “All composers of [Schoenberg’s] day ought to have realized that traditional tonality had exhausted itself and ought to have had the courage that [Schoenberg] had shown.” Ironically, Sachs explains, “Schoenberg’s greatest desire was to extend [the Germanic music tradition] line, not to break or end it.”
Unfortunately for Arnold Schoenberg, most did not view his music as any sort of logical progression of the German music tradition. During the premiere of his Second Quartet in 1908, the music critic Joseph Karpath quite literally shouted “That’s enough!” (though Richard Specht, the musicologist, shushed the critic). Some of the criticisms were even harsher. Brahms’ biographer Max Kalbeck referred to it as “cats’ music.” Traumnovelle author Arthur Schniztler famously wrote in his diary, ““I do not believe in Schoenberg. I understood Bruckner and Mahler right away, must I fail now?” Schoenberg was aware of the multitude of criticisms of his music but was undeterred. To a point. As Sachs eloquently describes it, “[Schoenberg] was in the unenviable and nearly untenable psychological situation of feeling persecuted by, and simultaneously superior to, his detractors.”
Sachs’ writing is both accessible and timely. His style is eminently readable and he does not bog the text down with long-winded explanations of musical ideas. He also does not oversimplify. Perhaps it is because I view the work of Schoenberg through a similar lens as Sachs — great respect for his skill, creativity, and musicianship while not being the biggest fan of listening to his music — I agreed with all of Sachs’ prescriptions and analyses. In one particularly pointed discussion, Harvey Sachs discusses the inherent friction between the financial security and freedom of expression of the university and conservatory halls versus the less charitable concert-going public.
Of this tension, Sachs writes:
“[L]et’s at least admit the possibility that job security can, and sometimes does, lead to a state of affairs along the lines of Babbitt’s who-cares-if-you-listen? attitude, or at least to an attitude of resignation on the part of some creative musicians. And let’s also admit the possibility that this factor has contributed to the rift between creative musicians and their potential audiences.”
Schoenberg: Why He Matters is a breezy and whimsical 272 pages that I devoured in an afternoon. In presenting Arnold Schoenberg honestly and without pretentiousness, Harvey Sachs makes the controversial composer seem all the more appealing and human, almost to the point that I wanted to run to a Schoenberg concert. Almost.