Uploaded April 2010 | Updated September 2026, 5 days ago
I am sure that many composers here today would agree with me that a separate session on serial music is somewhat dangerous. It suggests that it is some other form of composition and that its problems are something apart. In 1960 few would deny the validity and power of music which is not tonal. If one fails to accept the great new forces of our time, one is not actually living in our time. If one seeks to ignore or ridicule such great forces as the struggle for racial equality or communism, or if one fails to acknowledge to oneself that we life in an Atomic age and that much of our thought and life is bound to be conditioned by it, if we by-pass these real issues and developments, then we lose the stimulation of our age. Whether we are in agreement with what has resulted from these forces or how they have been managed is another matter and of less importance than the fact that we should recongise them for what they are. Acceptance of, but not necessarily capitulation to, such great forces implies courage and an open mind. From such an acceptance could follow the possibility that the best results might be encouraged. But in saying that, I presuppose a great many things amongst which open-mindedness and a true enthusiasm for hew ideas are not the least important. This panel session deals with just such a great force in the creative musical thought of our century and in this paper I shall deal with what seems to be the crux of the problem of creative musical thought today. I shall deal with no great technicalities or obscurities but try to show you how I personally feel that the great forces set in motion by Schoenberg, and developed by Webern, have done more than anything to face squarely the great dilemma which exists in music today.
The problem facing the artist in any age is basically how he shall be able to resolve his imaginative power with form, a form which must be reborn and redeveloped unceasingly. No one saw this problem more clearly at any time than did Schoenberg, during those crucial years which opened this century. The old regime at that time was toppling on all sides after having run a long and magnificent course. His complete understanding of all that went before him in the stream of western music is evident not only in his early tonal works but no less in his theoretical writings, which stand alone in their mastery. On the basis of this knowledge he took a resolute stand against the anarchy and exploitation of the debased creative musical standards which followed the First World War. His stature both as an imaginative artist and logical thinker in music are now no longer denied, much as they may still be misunderstood. It is natural that composers such as Bartok, Stravinsky and Hindemith should have been more readily accepted and assimilated at first, since they are at once more obviously related to the past, as far as aural experience is concerned, through their adherence to tonality. They sum up periods, however, and open up very little of consequence that is really vital and similar. We have only to notice the effect that they have had on their copious followers to be fully aware of that. Their overall use of bitonal harmonic structures, Hindemiths forced theory of harmony, Bartoks nationalism, chromaticism and canonic imitation, Stravinskys remarkable use of ostinato and . . . .
SERIAL COMPOSITION TODAY by Iain Hamilton 1960
Iain Hamilton was born in Glasgow, Scotland on June 6th, 1922, and died July 21st, 2000, in London. An important figure in music on both sides of the Atlantic, he was a composer of both stage and concert works, whose music has been praised for the "brilliance of its orchestral texturesuninhibited lyricism" (Anna Karenina—Opera) and "a vast terrain of color, movement, expression and invention" (Voyage—Horn and Chamber Orchestra). These quotes are typical of the critical commentaries on Mr. Hamiltons music, which constantly refer to the color, texture, variety, lyricism and craftsmanship.
I am sure that many composers here today would agree with me that a separate session on serial music is somewhat dangerous. It suggests that it is some other form of composition and that its problems are something apart. In 1960 few would deny the validity and power of music which is not tonal. If one fails to accept the great new forces of our time, one is not actually living in our time. If one seeks to ignore or ridicule such great forces as the struggle for racial equality or communism, or if one fails to acknowledge to oneself that we life in an Atomic age and that much of our thought and life is bound to be conditioned by it, if we by-pass these real issues and developments, then we lose the stimulation of our age. Whether we are in agreement with what has resulted from these forces or how they have been managed is another matter and of less importance than the fact that we should recongise them for what they are. Acceptance of, but not necessarily capitulation to, such great forces implies courage and an open mind. From such an acceptance could follow the possibility that the best results might be encouraged. But in saying that, I presuppose a great many things amongst which open-mindedness and a true enthusiasm for hew ideas are not the least important. This panel session deals with just such a great force in the creative musical thought of our century and in this paper I shall deal with what seems to be the crux of the problem of creative musical thought today. I shall deal with no great technicalities or obscurities but try to show you how I personally feel that the great forces set in motion by Schoenberg, and developed by Webern, have done more than anything to face squarely the great dilemma which exists in music today.
The problem facing the artist in any age is basically how he shall be able to resolve his imaginative power with form, a form which must be reborn and redeveloped unceasingly. No one saw this problem more clearly at any time than did Schoenberg, during those crucial years which opened this century. The old regime at that time was toppling on all sides after having run a long and magnificent course. His complete understanding of all that went before him in the stream of western music is evident not only in his early tonal works but no less in his theoretical writings, which stand alone in their mastery. On the basis of this knowledge he took a resolute stand against the anarchy and exploitation of the debased creative musical standards which followed the First World War. His stature both as an imaginative artist and logical thinker in music are now no longer denied, much as they may still be misunderstood. It is natural that composers such as Bartok, Stravinsky and Hindemith should have been more readily accepted and assimilated at first, since they are at once more obviously related to the past, as far as aural experience is concerned, through their adherence to tonality. They sum up periods, however, and open up very little of consequence that is really vital and similar. We have only to notice the effect that they have had on their copious followers to be fully aware of that. Their overall use of bitonal harmonic structures, Hindemiths forced theory of harmony, Bartoks nationalism, chromaticism and canonic imitation, Stravinskys remarkable use of ostinato and . . . .
SERIAL COMPOSITION TODAY by Iain Hamilton 1960
Iain Hamilton was born in Glasgow, Scotland on June 6th, 1922, and died July 21st, 2000, in London. An important figure in music on both sides of the Atlantic, he was a composer of both stage and concert works, whose music has been praised for the "brilliance of its orchestral texturesuninhibited lyricism" (Anna Karenina—Opera) and "a vast terrain of color, movement, expression and invention" (Voyage—Horn and Chamber Orchestra). These quotes are typical of the critical commentaries on Mr. Hamiltons music, which constantly refer to the color, texture, variety, lyricism and craftsmanship.
![Wallingford Riegger, Dichotomy, Part 1 of 2.mpg
Given the paucity of other sources, it seems likely that Wallingford Riegger learned much of what he knew of the twelve-tone method from his personal contact with Adolph Weiss. Riegger was already composing rugged, dissonant, atonal music in what was emerging as a shared ultramodern style, but he became increasingly interested in the possibilities of the twelve-tone method. In 1932, he completed his first piece that can reasonably be described as twelve-tone in significant respects (Dichotomy), and thereafter most of his instrumental music was serial at least in part.14
Dichotomy uses two series. In the published score, Riegger labels them A and B and identifies their occurrences and transformations (inversion, retrograde, retrograde-inversion) in the score (see Example 1.4).15 Series A contains eleven of the twelve notes (F is excluded). Series B contains thirteen notes (F♯ and B are excluded; F, G, and A are each stated twice). The last three notes of Series A (G, G♯, and A) return as the first three of Series B the two series otherwise share no segments. What they do share, however, are some of the characteristics of ultramodern melody: variety of interval and pitch (the latter, of course, endemic to serialism) and an avoidance of triadic outline or implication.
In the passage shown in Example 1.5, there are two distinct musical streams, one serial and the other not. Within the serial stream, we hear an ongoing duet, pitting either Series A or B against its own inversion. These are driving, craggy, widely spaced melodic lines. In the opening of the passage, Series B, played by the lower strings and bassoon, is heard against its inversion at T9I, played in the upper woodwinds. The two melodies are mirror images of each other in register this is a pitch, not a pitch-class inversion. Subsequently, the T1 transposition of A (in retrograde) is heard against the T9I inversion of A (also in retrograde). Again, the contours of the two melodies are largely mirror images, although this breaks down at the end of the passage, when each melody ruminates on its concluding four or five notes. Throughout these duets, and throughout the piece, Riegger maintains a concrete conception of the series as an actual melody with a specific contour. When the series is transposed or transformed (via inversion and or retrograde), its rhythms may change, but its registral shape generally remains the same. For Riegger, a series was primarily a line of pitches (not pitch classes), an actual melody with a determinate contour.
In the passage in Example 1.5, there is a second, non-serial stream. It consists of pairs of four- or six-note chords. These chords, sometimes preceded by ascending scales in parallel major sevenths, punctuate the passage, dividing the serial duet into discrete phrases. The chords are also extended into the driving rhythmic ostinato that runs through most of the passage. The resulting musical texture is about as far removed from Schoenbergs (and Weisss) neo-Baroque dances as possible, showing a much greater aesthetic kinship with works like Stravinskys Rite of Spring and Bartóks Allegro Barbaro. Apparently Riegger understood right from the beginning that the serial approach is not wedded to any specific style or texture; rather, it is a way of thinking about and organizing tones related only to one another (not to a tonic), permitting many different kinds of musical realizations.
The chords are identified with numbers in the score in Example 1.5. The first chord is a segment of the chromatic scale (which Riegger would have understood and described as a cluster chord) arranged as two whole tones a minor ninth apart. The first chord is then transposed up a semitone to produce the second chord. Taking the first two chords together, we have a five-note segment of the chromatic scale: C♯DD♯EF. The third and fourth chords transpose the first and second up by a perfect fourth (but not in register), producing another, non-overlapping segment of the chromatic scale: F♯GG♯AB♭. The fifth chord repeats the notes of the third chord, adjoining to them the lower whole tone of the first chord. The sixth chord transposes the fifth chord up by a semitone, and thus consists of the content of the fourth chord to which the lower whole tone of the second chord has been adjoined. The fifth and sixth chords together thus project almost the entire chromatic aggregate (only B, C, and F are missing). The chordal stream in this passage thus involves the dissonant major seventh (or minor ninth) as a harmonic interval and a preference for verticalized segments of the chromatic scale.
[Joseph N. Strauss] Wallingford Riegger, Dichotomy, Part 1 of 2.mpg](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/vrU3LTGM0Mo/mqdefault.jpg)

![Henri Pousseur, Madrigal III (Boulez, Domaine Ensemble) - Part 2
Madrigal III for clarinet, violin, cello, 2 percussion instruments and piano was composed in the spring of 1962 and dedicated to the memory of Wolfgang Steinecke, since 1945 founder and daring promoter of the Darmstadt Festival.
This work comprises almost all of Madrigal I, written four years earlier for clarinet solo. For Pouseeur, the earlier work represented a first and almost unconscious attempt to reactivate the harmonic values that post-Webernian music had almost completely neutralized. Pousseur made a more resolute attempt in this direction in Votre Faust. In Madrigal III, this reactivation is still dependent on dodecaphonic material, and crystallizes around a process of frequent and variable repetition of the constituent notes of an harmonic field.
The work excludes all mobile forms, yet benefits from a supple and fluctuating performance. While notes are clearly set forth, other aspects of the music (duration of pauses, intensity and attacks) are relaxed and permit a certain amount of liberty. Synchronization, speed, silences or dynamic evolution thus result partly from the performers reactions, which can be individual and isolated or contrarily, dependent on the reactions of other musicians.
Above notes by Jean-Claude Eloy
In 1945 Pierre Boulez won a first prize in harmony. He was twenty then, and suddently made the discovery that was to affect the whold of his musical life: the [second] Vienna School of Schoenberg, Berg and Webern. It was a revelation, he relates, I had a passionate urge to learn all about that music, to know how it was made. There were violent discussions then and the music of the [second] Vienna School was called mathematical recipes. But I realized that this was the music for our time, a language with unlimited possibilities for evolution. No other language was possible. It was the most radical revolution since Monteverdi. Suddenly all our familiar notions were abolished. Music moved out of the world of Newton and into the world of Einstein. The tonal idea was based on a universe defined by gravity and attraction: the serial idea, on a universe in perpetual expansion.
[Please accept our profuse apologies for the chthonic sound quality of this 1960s LP.] Henri Pousseur, Madrigal III (Boulez, Domaine Ensemble) - Part 2](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/wBUniWI1GTQ/mqdefault.jpg)
![Peri Mauer, AFTERWORDS.mpg
AFTERWORDS for clarinet, cello, and piano
PERI MAUER-Composer
Gilad Harel, clarinet
Steve Beck, piano
Alistar MacRae, cello
AFTERWORDS was composed in 2007, and recorded that same year at Juilliard.
In loving memory of my father, Arnold Mauer, April 5, 1919-March 9, 2006. Peri Mauer
[Video by Randolph Pitts] Peri Mauer, AFTERWORDS.mpg](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/wF1nSelBBCc/mqdefault.jpg)





![Edison Denisov, Symphony [No.1], USSR Ministry of Culture Orchestra, Rozhdestvensky
It seems to me that one of the greatest values of music is its spiritual power, its ability to carry a great spiritual charge. Music carried this charge during pre-Bach and Bach epochs, as well as for some time afterwards (Mozart, Brahms). In the 20th century, this charge was, to a considerable degree, lost. During our lifetime, for a long while, the loss of spiritual values has progressed, - or their leveling, or even a negative attitude to them revealed by the growth of so-called atheism - a phenomenon very dangerous to mankind. I remember Shostakovich telling me a few times a year or two before his death: Earlier, there were ten commandments: thou shall not kill; thou shall not steal; thou shall not seduce your neighbors wife; etc. But now we have just one single commandment - do not violate the purity of the teaching of Marx and Lenin. A lot of artists perceived the leveling of spiritual values and their replacement by false values. In music - both in academic and in new - there is a lot of what we may call bluff. Currently, even some prominent names, experiencing intense professional scrutiny closely follow all the slightest changes of fashion - and, since they possess a certain technique and skills in the application of cliché, they often deceive the audience. Take the great artists of the past - Mozart, Bach, or Brahms; from Russian music, take Mussorgsky, Glinka, Tchaikovsky. Those never cheated the audience, never fooled anyone - they were always honest and sincere. At present, unfortunately, the idea of honesty often disappears from art. Even significant composers, and to a much greater extent, artists, often indulge in bluffing, whereas the audience, having lost the criteria, takes this bluff at face value.
In our society, false art has often substituted true one. There was a long period when the true art was suppressed, whereas false art was hailed, presented as true, and the entire mass media industriously persuaded the people that this was true art. This was how, in particular, they managed to fend the people off the concert hall. When before the war, Soviet music was played, people went to listen to it. In the 20s, concert halls were packed. Nowadays, one has to organize the audience; there is even an expression, filling groups. Once there was an authors concert of some secretary-composer, related to his nomination for the Lenin award. I asked a clarinetist from the State Orchestra: How was the concert? And he told me: It was wonderful - one to five. - What do you mean? - Fifty people on the stage, ten in the stalls. This is a standard picture. Here also lies one of the reasons for the fact that opera houses, especially provincial ones, stay empty. For a long time, all had been done to divert the public from art.
Unlike some other composers who got carried away by serialism, I have never rejected intention, because purely abstract reasoning deprived of any intentional content, makes music more superficial. One may compose a lot of good pieces, but they will be, so to say, beautiful musical architecture with very little spiritual content. For example, I appreciate Xenakiss music, but objectively speaking, it is very superficial - it has almost no psychological content. In a sense, this is objective music. If we attribute Xenakis to French music, he will appear to continue the tradition of Roussel and Varèse, but in no way is he even close to Debussys tradition. To me, other things are more appealing. In my opinion, Debussy is one of the greatest composers of the twentieth century. I think that he is even more innovative, if we use this word, than Stravinsky or Webern - but Debussys innovations do not lie on the surface. In Stravinskys music, the new immediately strikes you; whereas one initially takes Debussy as very traditional. However, when you start to analyze, you see that he was a much more daring thinker than many of his contemporaries. In this respect, Debussys music, in his best pieces, like Pelleas and Melisande, is to me as promising as Mussorgskys music - which was really appreciated almost one hundred years after [his death], or possibly has not yet been appreciated even today.
Edison Denisov
Denisov was born in Tomsk, Siberia into the family of a radio-physicist, who gave him the very unusual first name Edison, in honour of the great American inventor. He studied mathematics before deciding to spend his life composing. This decision was enthusiastically supported by Dmitri Shostakovich, who gave him instructions in composition. Edison Denisov, Symphony [No.1], USSR Ministry of Culture Orchestra, Rozhdestvensky](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/xiH4u8B_glg/mqdefault.jpg)
![Sopwith Camel - You always tell me baby, Maybe in a dream
The earliest San Francisco bands, The Great Society (Grace Slicks first group), The Charlatans, and The Sopwith Camel, experimented with many musical styles pop and classical; Western and Non-Western. Here are two examples of such experimentation from The Sopwith Camels first album, recorded in 1966 and 1967 (re-released on CD as Frantic Desolation.) You always tell me baby apparently got some air play in France. Here are some excerpts from an interview with the Camels producer, Eric Jacobson, and Peter Kraemer, principal singer, lyricist and wind player:
Wed formed around the same time as Big Brother & The Holding Company (pre-Janis)... in fact, we got together in the same room. It started out with me and Terry, who Id met at a hangout called the Big Little Bookstore on Polk Street in San Francisco, writing songs together. So the Camel was evolving at a time when there was very little rock in the city. In 1964, I shared a house on Page and Masonic with a thespian called John McIntyre (later manager of the Grateful Dead). I lived at one end of the attic and a girl called Laurie had the other end... and I should guess there were less than a dozen longhairs in the whole of San Francisco.
Then, one day, Chet Helms came to town; hed just got out of El Paso jail, where hed been held on suspicion of being involved in the assassination of President Kennedy! The only basis for his arrest had been the length of his hair... its true!
Anyway, that house was a sort of nucleus in the developing San Francisco psychedelic scene. The first rock dances were in the basement of 1090 Page, which was organized by Chet all the longhairs used to go there. It was an amazing experience for me, because I knew just about every single person in the place and there were three or four hundred people! There was such a spirit at those gigs... I cant tell you!
Mind you, the San Francisco thing happened soon afterwards and eventually most of that core of 400 people moved out... I can walk around now and not know a soul.
Artie Ripp, from Kama Sutra, who were putting out our records, came into the studio [in New York] the day that I had a temperature of 102. We were finishing up Postcard from Jamaica (the only tune we managed to write at the Albert Hotel in New York), and I was having to use three microphone stands: two to support me as I sang in the general direction of the third. I had bronchitis, actually. Anyway, Artie, who came in to see how his boys were doing, thought I should go to the Luxor Uptown Mens Club sauna baths to get myself in shape. So at two in the morning, we left Bell Studios and Artie Ripp just leapt out in front of some limousine, flagged it down, and gave the guy 20 bucks to take us to this sauna bath . . . .
(Interview with Peter Kraemer, Zizzag Magazine. Date unknown.)
[In a radio interview on KMPX, San Francicso, on the release of their first album, members of the Sopwith Camel commented that this two tracks were most representative of the music the work they were doing at that time. Shortly thereafter the group broke up, to reform in the early 1970s to record their second album, The Miraculous Hump Returns from The Moon. If you search on YouTube under SopwithCamelExtant or the account of Nandi Devan (fka Terry MacNeil) you will find some fine videos from the current incarnation of this band, still rocking in 2011. They continued to play until around 2017. I always attended the annual Halloween show they did at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco and you will find videos on my channel filmed there by me of two songs not on their albums, both favorite of mine: Look Into My Heart (aka The Chant) and Leave the Light on for Linda) Sopwith Camel - You always tell me baby, Maybe in a dream](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/yU2Saf1EKlc/mqdefault.jpg)