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Florida State University LibrariesElectronic Theses, Treatises and Dissertations The Graduate School

2018

An Historical Survey of Violin TechniquesUsed for Music OnomatopoeiaPetra Bubanja

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FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY

COLLEGE OF MUSIC

AN HISTORICAL SURVEY OF VIOLIN TECHNIQUES

USED FOR MUSIC ONOMATOPOEIA

By

PETRA BUBANJA

A Treatise submitted to the

College of Music

in partial fulfillment of the

requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Music

2018

ii

Petra Bubanja defended this treatise on April 6, 2018.

The members of the supervisory committee were:

Benjamin Sung

Professor Directing Treatise

Clifton Callender

University Representative

Alexander Jiménez

Committee Member

Shannon Thomas

Committee Member

The Graduate School has verified and approved the above-named committee members, and

certifies that the treatise has been approved in accordance with university requirements.

iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my dear committee members for taking the time out of their busy

schedules to help me tackle this topic of interest with their abundant expertise and their

encouragement. I owe a special thank you to my major violin professor, Dr. Benjamin Sung,

who helped me reach new heights in violin playing and continuously inspired me with his

musicianship. Finally, I would like to thank my editor and husband, Edward Charity, who

rigorously checked my writing for any improper use of indefinite articles, amongst other things.

Special thanks to C. F. Peters Corporation for allowing me to use excerpts from Four

Nocturnes (Night Music II) by George Crumb. © Copyright 1971 by C.F. Peters Corporation.

Used by permission. All Rights Reserved.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Figures ..................................................................................................................................v

Abstract ........................................................................................................................................ viii

1. INTRODUCTION ......................................................................................................................1

2. ANIMAL AND NATURE ONOMATOPOEIA IN THE 17TH AND 18TH CENTURIES .........5

3. 20TH AND 21ST CENTURY APPROACHES ..........................................................................28

4. ONOMATOPOEIA IN THE LATE 18TH AND 19TH CENTURIES .......................................50

References ......................................................................................................................................57

Biographical Sketch .......................................................................................................................61

v

LIST OF FIGURES

1 Carlo Farina, Capriccio Stravagante, 2 measures before rehearsal number 16 ........................ 8

2 Heinrich Biber. Sonata Representativa, mm.145-150 ...............................................................9

3 Carlo Farina, Capriccio Stravagante, “The Cat,” rehearsal number 22 ..................................10

4 Heinrich Biber, Sonata Representativa, mm.64-69 .................................................................11

5 Johann Heinrich Schmeltzer, Sonata Cucu a Violino Solo, mm.69-71 .................................. 11

6 Johann Walther, Scherzo D’Augelli con il Cuccu, m.34..........................................................11

7 Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mm.31-33 ......................................................................................11

8 Johann Walther. Scherzo D’Augelli con il Cuccu, mm.1-2 .....................................................12

9 Johann Walther. Scherzo D’Augelli con il Cuccu, mm. 4-5 ....................................................12

10 Johann Walther. Scherzo D’Augelli con il Cuccu, mm.10-11 .................................................12

11 Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia Universalis, Iconismus III ......................................................15

12 Heinrich Biber Sonata Representativa, mm. 38-40 .................................................................15

13 Heinrich Biber, Sonata Representativa, mm. 116-125 ............................................................16

14 Heinrich Biber, Sonata Representativa, m. 134 ......................................................................16

15 Johann Walther, Galli e Galline ..............................................................................................17 16 Johann Walther, Galli e Galline ..............................................................................................17

17 Antonio Vivaldi, Spring, mvt. I, mm. 17-19 ............................................................................19

18 Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. I, mm. 66-70 .........................................................................20

19 Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. I, mm.59-61 ..........................................................................20

20 Antonio Vivaldi, Spring, mvt. I, mm.62-65 .............................................................................20

21 Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. I, mm.72-77 ..........................................................................20

vi

22 Antonio Vivaldi, Spring, mvt. I, mm. 44-46 ............................................................................22

23 Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. II, mm. 189-191 ....................................................................23

24 Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. III, mm.236-239....................................................................24

25 Antonio Vivaldi, Winter, mvt. I, mm.32-34 ................................................................................... 24

26 Antonio Vivaldi, Winter, mvt. III, mm.172-177 ......................................................................25

27 Antonio Vivaldi, Winter, mvt. III, mm.201-204 ......................................................................25

28 Béla Bartók, String Quartet No.4, mvt. III, mm. 34-40, Violin I ............................................30

29 George Crumb, Black Angels, “Threnody I: Night of the Electric Insects,” beginning ..........34

30 George Crumb, Black Angels, “Threnody III: Night of the Electric Insects,” beginning ........35

31 George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno I: serenamente.” .................................................36

32 George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno I: serenamente,” staff 2 ......................................37

33 George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno I: serenamente,” staff 4 ......................................37

34 George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno II: scorrevole, vivace possibile,” beginning ......38

35 George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno III: contemplativo,” staff 4 ................................39

36 George Crumb. Four Nocturnes, “Notturno IV: con un sentiment di nostalgia,” p.2 ............40

37 George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. III, rehearsal number 7....................................43

38 George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. III, 2 measures before rehearsal number 9 .....43

39 George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. III, 2 measures before rehearsal number 11 ...43

40 George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. III, rehearsal number 8....................................43

41 George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. IV, beginning ..................................................44

42 George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. IV, 2 measures before rehearsal number 15 ...44

43 George Enescu, mvt. V, beginning ..........................................................................................45

44 George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, end of mvt. VII-beginning of mvt. VIII ..................46

45 George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. IX, 2 measures before rehearsal number 30 ...46

vii

46 Fuminori Tanada, Echoing Forest II, mm. 15-19 (second appearance) ..................................48

47 Fuminori Tanada, Echoing Forest II, mm. 63-65 (the last example in the piece) ...................48

48 Fuminori Tanada, Echoing Forest II, mm. 38-40 ....................................................................49

49 W. A. Mozart, Ein musikalischer Spaß, K.522, movement I, mm. 24-26 ...............................52

50 W. A. Mozart, Ein musikalischer Spaß, K.522, movement I, mm. 16-23 ...............................53

viii

ABSTRACT

The purpose of this treatise is to connect violin music which contains onomatopoeic

sounds with the development of techniques that successfully portray these effects. The focus is

primarily on animal and nature onomatopoeia (e.g. birds, insects, dogs, cats, frogs, rain, storms,

thunder, river, sea, sunrise, etc.). Another onomatopoeia shortly discussed is the physical

onomatopoeia, imitating motion in nature (such as the fluttering of an insect’s wings, and

others). The examples of these onomatopoeic representations are mostly found in the 17th and

early 18th centuries, and in the 20th and 21st centuries. This is due to the musical and

philosophical aesthetics of the 19th century and their disregard for imitation of the external world

in music.

The survey of the works is selected from the solo violin literature and smaller chamber

repertoire, such as the string quartet. Besides providing a collection of works that contain nature

onomatopoeia, the treatise is meant to draw a connection between the advancement of violin

technique and the desire to authentically represent acoustical properties of sounds found in

nature. Violin technique evolved through experimentation; new techniques pushed the limits of

the technical vocabulary. With nature onomatopoeia, the composer (who was typically a violin

virtuoso, in the earlier period) had the desired sound in mind and was not afraid to search for it,

even if that meant employing unconventional means of sound production. Having this acoustical

guidance in search of appropriate and authentic technical tools helped break from the idiomatic

common practices and led to the establishment of new techniques when referring to specific

onomatopoeias.

1

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

The Establishment and the History of the Terminology

Onomatopoeia is a term primarily associated with language. It is, in fact, a verbal

expression that resembles its subject’s acoustic properties (such as cuckoo, buzz, sizzle, etc.).1

Since instrumental music is absent of text, music onomatopoeia is presented through the

imitative properties of the sounds created on an instrument by using specific techniques and

compositional devices. In his paper “A Catalogue of Music Onomatopoeia,” Castelões offers a

list of phrases that are used in scholarly papers and books when referring to this type of imitation

(e.g. musical naturalism, musical mimicry, use of sounds of the non-musical environment,

simple imitation of the acoustic phenomena of the external world, use of everyday sounds,

definite representative allusions, etc.).2 Even though all of provided examples will be that of

stylized music onomatopoeia, the primary goal is to tackle the concrete acoustic (and

occasionally the physical) properties of the imitation and not necessarily its symbolic or

expressive values. By “stylized music onomatopoeia,” I refer to the onomatopoeia performed on

an instrument; an onomatopoeia that possesses the acoustical properties of its original, but is

used within the context of music and not as an end to its means. This type of categorization

would be in opposition to using a recording (the nightingale call at the end of the third movement

of Pines of Rome, by Ottorino Respighi), or simply making a dry transcription.

1 Merriam-Webster Dictionary, s.v. “onomatopoeia,” accessed February 17, 2018, https://www.merriam-

webster.com/dictionary/onomatopoeia. 2 Luiz E. Castelões, “A Catalogue of Music Onomatopoeia,” International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of

Music 40, no.2 (Dec. 2009), 300.

2

The debate whether music onomatopoeia belongs to the sphere of program music or not,

is not a focus of this treatise, but it might be worthy of mention. The definition of ‘program

music’ was first established by Franz Liszt regarding his symphonic poems. Liszt believed that

it was a composer’s duty to guide the listener, cognitively and emotionally, to the “right”

poetical interpretation of music.3 This meant that in order for music to be called programmatic,

it had to have a narrative or descriptive element to it. The vague definition by Liszt left room for

discussions, feelings and opinions (often in the form of surprisingly strong language) by various

composers and critics. A point of contention came with music referring to imitation (i.e.

depicting sounds of animals or natural phenomena) and expression. Many argued that

“programme music does not include music that is merely expressive, imitative or evocative.”4 In

fact, this discussion goes back more than two millennia:

Each time in history that the infatuation of composers with the discovery of sound has

been largely shared, a censure has soon arisen against this realism, for moral, religious,

philosophical or, much more rarely, aesthetic reasons. Plato’s protestations against

musicians who imitated the rhythmic sounds of work or of machines, the sounds of the

horse, bull, dog, cattle or birds, the sounds of the river or the waves, the wind, hail or

thunder, instead of imitating virtue, prove that this practice was becoming very important

in the country of humanism in the 4th century BC.5

This significance of Liszt’s “narrative” element is supported in Roger Scruton’s article

“Representation in Music” (1976). Scruton argued that music cannot be representational like

visual art. He also claimed that calling music representational strips it of its aesthetic value. He

made the point that in order for a piece of art to be representational, there has to be something

thought-provoking that transcends simple imitation. By this logic, he concludes that even

3 Roger Scruton, “Programme music,” Grove Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com (accessed May 25,

2017). 4 Ibid. 5 François-Bernard Mâche, Music, myth, and nature, or, The Dolphins of Arion (Hardwood Academic Publishers,

1992), 47.

3

though Messiaen uses birdsong and a passage in “Der Rosenkavalier ‘imitates’ the glitter of the

silver rose,” there is no additional context for these effects and they do not therefore, make the

music representational.6

This dismissal of music onomatopoeia never fully dissipated. However, there was a

significant push for using programmatic elements evocative of nature and objects in music, by

composers such as Berlioz and Debussy. Berlioz notes, “as for the imitation of natural sounds,

Beethoven, Gluck, Meyerbeer, Rossini and Weber have proved, by noteworthy examples, that it

has its place in the musical realm.”7 Debussy is quoted to have said that nature offers a plethora

of music, in the form of different onomatopoeic sounds, and that exploring these should be “the

new way forward.”8

The subject of this treatise could be described as music onomatopoeia imitating only the

sounds of animals and nature phenomena (excluding those made by humans or being the product

of modern civilization, such as industrial sounds). The three criteria to rely on for recognizing

music onomatopoeia, as established by Castelões, are:

“1) it is aurally iconic, i.e., it resembles the imitated sound; 2) the composer makes it

clear what sound he is attempting to imitate (whether this is indicated in the score, or

implied by means of titles or programs); and 3) contemporaneous commentators

recognize it as an imitation of environmental sound.”9

Since the topic of this treatise is the connection between music onomatopoeia in the

violin repertoire and the techniques employed to depict these imitative effects, it is worthwhile to

show how technique progressed through the search for unorthodox means of sound production,

seeking a more authentic auditory portrayal.

6 Roger Scruton, “Representation in Music,” Philosophy 51, no.197 (July, 1976): 276. 7 Luiz E. Castelões, “A Catalogue of Music Onomatopoeia,” 309. 8 Ibid., 315. 9 Ibid., 302.

4

Since the majority of the violin repertoire featuring nature onomatopoeia is found in the

17th and 18th, and the 20th and 21st centuries, these two periods will be addressed first, for easier

comparison of the techniques used. The 19th century will then be shortly mentioned, centered on

its most onomatopoeically prolific genre (the tone poem).

5

CHAPTER 2

ANIMAL AND NATURE ONOMATOPOEIA

IN THE 17TH AND 18TH CENTURIES

The link between animal sounds and music has existed ever since humans first made an

instrument to recreate birdsong for ‘communication’ and entertainment, or to imitate the sound

of their prey for hunting ease.10 Aural imitation had various purposes among different cultures,

and its aesthetic properties, or lack thereof, were vehemently discussed by music critics and

composers throughout history. The fact that animal onomatopoeia has been used so extensively

in world music, particularly in Asia, implies that there must have been an aesthetic component to

the sounds that animals make that was similar to that of music, which led to nature onomatopoeia

being used in music. This matter has become the subject of zoömusicology. This musicological

field offers, according to Hollis Taylor, “human valorization and analysis of the aesthetic

qualities of non-human animal sounds,” and was established by French composer François

Bernard Mâche.11

Mâche was inspired by his teacher Olivier Messiaen, who dedicated much of his opus to

transcribing the sounds of birds and incorporating their songs into his music.12 This process was

somewhat alleviated by the existence of recording devices; such was not the case for composers

10 Emily Doolittle, “Crickets in the Concert Hall—A History of Animals in Western Music,” Revista Transcultural

de Música, no.12, http://www.sibetrans.com/trans/articulo/94/crickets-in-the-concert-hall-a-history-of-animals-in-

western-music (accessed Feb. 17, 2017). 11 Hollis Taylor, “Introduction to Zoömusicology,”

http://www.zoomusicology.com/Zoomusicology/Introduction.html (accessed Feb. 17, 2017). 12 Hollis Taylor, Is Birdsong Music?: Outback Encounters with an Australian Songbird (Bloomington: Indiana

University Press, 2017), 5.

6

like Amy Beach, as Emily Doolittle points out.13 Beach (1867-1944) was an American

composer and pianist who was able to transcribe birdsong using her perfect pitch. Messiaen uses

his bird transcriptions most extensively in Catalogue d’Oiseaux for solo piano. He spoke of

birds as “the greatest musicians on this planet” and his love and interest for their ‘music’ had

been encouraged by his own teacher, Paul Dukas.14 Composers Hollis Taylor and Emily

Doolittle provide much research on this topic; they also transcribe the songs of different bird

species and incorporate these transcriptions into their own music. The moment a transcription

has been assimilated into the music, it becomes stylized.

Examples of music onomatopoeia may be found in the vocal music of Europe, as early as

the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries (Jean Vaillant, Josquin des Prez, Clement Jannequin, Pierre

Passereau). The use of music onomatopoeia in this time was mostly symbolic; the cuckoo

represented deceit due to laying its eggs in other birds’ nests, and the nightingale symbolized

morality and loyalty. There was occasionally an element of entertainment in musical imitation of

animal sounds (for example, “El Grillo” by Josquin des Prez).15 In the seventeenth century, the

employment of music onomatopoeia for entertainment became prevalent in the instrumental

music of Italy and Germany, which greatly contributed to the evolution of violin technique.

The advances and innovations in violin technique achieved by the German and Italian

virtuosi lead to a specific genre established by Athanasius Kircher, phantasticus stylus. As

quoted by Brewer and by the The Cambridge History of Seventeenth-Century Music, Vol.1:

The Stylus phantasticus is appropriate to instruments. It is the most free and unfettered

method of composition, bound to nothing, neither to words, nor to a harmonious subject.

It is organized with regard to manifest invention, the hidden reason of harmony, and an

ingenious, skilled connection of harmonic phrases and fugues. And it is divided into

13 Emily Doolittle, “Animal Sounds or Animal Songs? ,” The Journal of Music (July, 2012),

http://journalofmusic.com/focus/animal-sounds-or-animal-songs (accessed Feb. 17, 2017). 14 Hollis Taylor, Is Birdsong Music?, 5. 15 Emily Doolittle, “Crickets in the Concert Hall—A History of Animals in Western Music.”

7

those pieces which are commonly called Phantasias, Ricercatas, Toccatas, and

Sonatas.16

This new style of writing, unrestrained by the formal and harmonic orthodoxy, allowed for the

enrichment of the technical vocabulary.

The first representative example of music onomatopoeia in the violin repertoire is Carlo

Farina’s Capriccio Stravagante (1627), composed for violin, two violas, cello/ bass and

harpsichord. The title page quotes, as translated by Andrew Bonner: “Another volume of new

pavans, galliards, courantes, [and] French airs, with a humorous Quodlibet of all manner of

curious inventions, such as have never before been seen in print, together with several German

dances, all charmingly suited to viols.”17 This work uses extended techniques for its day, such as

sul ponticello, glissando, col legno, pizzicato, playing behind the bridge and multiple stops, in

order to imitate the sounds of other instruments and animals (hen, rooster, cat, and a dog). The

techniques employed were either entirely innovative or among the first documented instances.

Even though this work might be dismissed by critics from an aesthetic point of view, Farina’s

influence in revolutionizing violin technique in the context of music onomatopoeia is

indisputable.

His sonatas show that his technique as an executant was in advance not only of his

contemporaries but even of later players. His figuration was varied and he already

introduces rapid passages, double stopping and the occasional use of the G string which

was generally avoided by most violinist composers. The Kurtzweileges Quodlibet

(Merry Quodlibet), better known as Capriccio Stravagante, has been severely criticized

by some writers as a proof that Farina was a charlatan. But one must not forget that in

the early stages of the violin playing, many eminent virtuosi tried to find out the

possibilities of the violin in all directions, and naturally the sounds of nature were drawn

into the scheme, and could not fail to entertain, especially as the possibility of expressing

the inner life had not yet come under serious consideration. Even if we smile at his

imitation of the meowing and spitting of cats, barking of dogs, cocks and hens, the drum

16 Tim Carter and John Butt, eds., The Cambridge History of Seventeenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press, 2005), 526. 17 Andrew Bonner, “‘Curious Inventions’:Carlo Farina’s Capriccio Stravagante,” DMA diss., University of North

Carolina (2013), 2.

8

or the trumpet and many others which do not belong to the domain of music, and for the

production of which he gives minute instructions at the end of the capriccio in all

seriousness, we must not forget that they led him to the discovery of the use of

harmonics, staccato, pizzicato, tremolo, double stops, col legno, which more than a

hundred years later found their place in the legitimate art of violin playing.18

In order to comprehend the full extent of Farina’s inventiveness, considering that the

piece was published in 1627, it is enough to analyze the short Rooster, Il Gallo, movement

(figure 1). The rhythm mimics a rooster crowing. Farina additionally imitates the downward

inflection at the end of the call by using a glissando, but he also puts the entire depiction in a

minor/major-second double stop with which he manages to achieve the hoarseness in the sound

of a rooster’s call. To summarize, the technique required for the execution of this movement

takes the security in the knowledge of the second position, with an extended fourth finger and the

independence between the fingers (fourth stays on the A string, while the first finger on the E

string slides down to F natural; alternatively, in the case of playing the open E, slide the F-sharp

to F while conveniently staying in the second position). The speed of the glissando should be in

line with the real call, hence not too fast. For a 21st-century player, this is quite manageable, but

one must take into consideration that this could have been the first example of glissando and

double-stopping being used simultaneously (especially if executed without the aid of an open

string).

Figure 1. Carlo Farina, Capriccio Stravagante, 2 measures before rehearsal number 16.

18 Chris P. Xeros, “The Evolution of Violin Technique from Monteverdi to Paganini” (MM diss., North Texas State

College, 1954), 10-11.

9

This enrichment of the ‘technical vocabulary’ in depicting animals and environmental

phenomena resulted in the establishment of specific techniques for portraying specific sounds

found in nature. Farina’s use of descending glissandi when imitating cats ‘whining’ is also

employed by Heinrich Biber in his Sonata violino solo representativa, although in a less

authentic and a more musically stylized form (figure 2).

Figure 2. Heinrich Biber. Sonata Representativa, mm.145-150.

Even to a musically educated listener, Farina’s Cat movement sounds like it could not

have possibly been composed at the beginning of the 17th c. and could pass for a modern piece of

music (figure 3). Farina concludes the movement with a fast sixteenth-note passage (unusually

small note values for 1627) which is supposed to be an acoustic representation of an action. The

instruction for the movement is as follows: “To be played so as to imitate whining cats. At the

Presto Furioso the cats scatter running in all directions.”

10

Figure 3. Carlo Farina, Capriccio Stravagante, “The Cat,” rehearsal number 22.

The most universally agreed upon approach to technique, in the context of animal

onomatopoeia in the 17th century, seems to be found in the depiction of the cuckoo. The

cuckoo’s call is transcribed (most commonly) as a minor or major descending third. One could

11

speculate that the frequent usage of this particular imitation might derive from the simplicity of

the bird’s call. Heinrich Biber, Johann Schmelzer (Sonatae Unarum Fidium, 1664- sonatas

“Cucu” and ‘La Galline’), Johann Walther and Antonio Vivaldi all use virtuosic and polyphonic

passages where the downward intervallic leaps of the lower voice outline the ‘cuckoo

call’(figures 4, 5, 6 and 7).

Figure 4. Heinrich Biber Sonata Representativa, mm.64-69.

Figure 5. Johann Heinrich Schmeltzer, Sonata Cucu a Violino Solo, mm.69-71.

Figure 6. Johann Walther, Scherzo D’Augelli con il Cuccu, m.34.

Figure 7. Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mm.31-33.

12

Due to the nature of the upper-voice ostinato and the rhythmic and physical placement of the

lower voice (lower string), the call is easily discernable. This type of treatment is quite

idiomatic- it takes advantage of the layout of the instrument in that it involves the adjacent

strings, string crossings are placed on down bows and they conveniently identify the cuckoo

onomatopoeia. The effect that this technique has on a listener is that it sounds very virtuosic,

even though it is not so difficult to execute. In addition to employing this procedure, Johann

Jacob Walther in “Scherzo D’Augelli con il Cuccu” (Hortulus Chelicus) puts the cuckoo call in

the double stop (figures 8, 9 and 10).

Figure 8. Johann Walther. Scherzo D’Augelli con il Cuccu, Figure 9. Johann Walther. Scherzo

mm.1-2 D’Augelli con il Cuccu, mm.4-5.

Figure 10. Johann Walther. Scherzo D’Augelli con il Cuccu, mm.10-11.

Interestingly enough, Walther initially puts the call in both voices of the double stop, but then

alternates it between the voices.

The two musical examples that are most representative of animal and nature

onomatopoeia, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are Heinrich Biber’s Sonata violino

solo representativa and Vivaldi’s Seasons.

Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber was born in Wartenberg, Bohemia in 1644 and died in

Salzburg on May 3, 1704. Charles Burney noted of his virtuosity: “of all the violin players of the

13

last century Biber seems to have been the best, and his solos are the most difficult and most

fanciful of any music I have seen of the same period.”19 Sonata solo violino representativa,

c.1669, also known as Representatio Avium (The Display of the Birds), imitates the sounds of:

nightingale, cuckoo, frog, hen, rooster, quail, and a cat. The sonata was attributed to Biber

although recently there has been speculation that it could have been Schmeltzer’s. In fact, in his

book The Instrumental Music of Schmeltzer, Biber, Muffat and their Contemporaries, Charles E.

Brewer makes a compelling argument that the sonata is Schmeltzer’s. He proves this hypothesis

by providing a letter by Generalquatiermeister in Vienna, Wenzelsberg, to Prince-Bishop Carl

Liechtenstein-Castelcorn of Olomouc addressing the composition featuring “bird-song” the

prince had requested:

[…I invited Schmeltzer to eat with me and employed all diligence to receive the desired

“Birdsong.” However, he reported that he indeed had composed the arias, which in a

substantial “Birdsong” are between all the strong barking and cries of the beasts, but the

voice of the bird and the cries of the other beasts must be studied by memory.

Concerning this, I have persevered still more, and clearly had given him to understand,

that I don’t believe that everything should be set in notes…If one could now not progress

further with this, then he would have no guilt, but would have fulfilled the request. He

blew his nose concerning this and answered nothing about it. But, nevertheless, I will

still persevere and see whether I can still obtain it from him…] 20

Brewer finds another possible proof in Schmeltzer’s letter to the Prince: “Monday there was in

the evening again a chamber-service [Camerdienst], at which I again had to lead forth ‘The

Animals,’ since Her majesty, the Empress, never before heard such [a work], which I also once

would like to perform for Your Royal Highness.”21 Brewer offers further evidence that the

‘manuscript’ found could potentially be Biber’s handwritten copy of the original. Biber’s remark

19 Charles Burney, A General History of Music from the Earliest Ages to the Present Period (London, 1776-89); ed.

Frank Mercer (1935), (reprinted New York: Dover Publications, 1957), Vol. II, 462. 20 Charles E. Brewer, The Instrumental Music of Schmeltzer, Biber, Muffat and their Contemporaries (Burlington,

VT:Ashgate Publications, 2011), 107. 21 Charles E. Brewer, The Instrumental Music of Schmeltzer, Biber, Muffat and their Contemporaries, 109.

14

on using the theme from the “Musketeer March” in his Battaglia, as an already known theme

(which makes it less ‘mischievous’ to use it) further proves that he is not the author.22 This

being said, I will refer to the Sonata solo representative as being composed by Biber, for the

purposes of avoiding any confusion.

Biber derived his motivic material from the most established theory book of his time,

Musurgia Universalis by the Jesuit Athanasius Kircher. In one of these volumes, discussing

doctrine of affections amongst other topics, Kircher provided an illustration of “transcribed”

calls of a rooster, a hen, a hen calling to her chicks, a cuckoo, a quail and a parrot saying hello in

Greek (figure 11). However, it seems that nightingale calls and their complexity were of special

interest to Kircher. Charles Brewer offers the following translation of Kircher, in regards to

other birds’ calls in comparison to that of the nightingale: “ ‘they express merely that voice,

which suffices for explaining the passions of the spirit’ in contrast to the nightingale which was

created ‘for the delight of mankind’.”23

Kircher identified three different types of calls characteristic for the nightingale:

pigolismus, glazismus and teretismus. Explanations for these are once again extracted from

Brewer’s translation of Kircher’s own words: “most clear glottals modulated with a limpid and

ringing voice, those glottals which it continues like a broken voice with the same interval, and

those which for certain it renders like a murmur.”24

22 Charles E. Brewer, The Instrumental Music of Schmeltzer, Biber, Muffat and their Contemporaries, 110. 23 Charles E. Brewer, “The Songs of Biber’s Birds,” 17th Century Music 3, no.1 (Fall, 1993), 7. 24 Ibid., 7.

15

Figure 11. Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia Universalis, Iconismus III.

Indeed, if we compare the examples provided by Kircher and the motivic basis for Sonata

representativa’s movements, the parallels are obvious (figure 12).

Figure 12. Heinrich Biber Sonata Representativa, mm. 38-40.

16

Biber’s technical advancement however, shapes his treatment of the established

transcriptions. The high speed and the effervescence of the passagework, along with the

established motivic features of nightingale’s calls, mimic the bird quite accurately. The small

note values, consecutive string crossings and the fast repetition of the finger patterns required

great dexterity of the left hand especially at high velocity, and their employment most likely

helped challenge and push the advancement of violin technique. The technique required for

executing “The Hen” is quite accessible; the string crossing is alleviated by the use of the open

string. The motivic movement outlines the interval of a major sixth, discussed by Kircher. The

rooster’s call is characterized by downward-half-step glissandi, reminiscent of Farina’s

procedure (figure 13, compare to Farina’s; the hen’s onomatopoeia interrupted by the rooster’s

call). The depiction of the quail is technically simple and is a rhythmic diminution of Kircher’s

original (Figure 14).

Figure 13. Heinrich Biber, Sonata Representativa, mm. 116-125.

Figure 14. Heinrich Biber, Sonata Representativa, m. 134.

17

Galli e Galline, the eleventh of the twenty eight suites in the Hortulus Chelicus

(published in 1688) collection by Johann Jakob Walther, draws some parallels to the much

shorter depictions of the hen and the rooster in Biber’s Sonata Representativa (figure 15 and 16,

examples from Galli e Galline for comparison).

Figure 15. Johann Walther, Galli e Galline.

Figure 16. Johann Walther, Galli e Galline.

Motivically speaking, these movements are similar, though Walther’s depictions are slightly

more melodious. They do not adhere strictly to Kircher’s ‘transcriptions’ even though they are

pretty close, and the sharing of the imitative features with the accompanying basso continuo is

more in line with Farina’s Capriccio. The note values that are used bear more similarity with

Kircher and Farina than Biber: the clucking of the hen (or as Kircher puts it, the hen calling to

her chicks) is represented by consecutive and short eighth notes. The violin technique that is

employed is not terribly difficult, even for a player of the time; the difficulty in the technique of

this particular suite lies in the multiple-stop sections between the imitations and the virtuosic

thirty-second note passages.

It is important to note that the Musurgia Universalis (M.U.) was written by Father

Athanasius Kircher in 1650 in Rome. Therefore, Farina’s Capriccio Stravagante, as well as two

18

other Italian examples of animal onomatopoeia in violin music came a while before then. These

other two examples are: Tarquinio Merula’s “La Gallina” (“The Hen”) from the Raccolta di

Canzoni e Sonate a 2 e a 3, book 3 op.9 (1637) and Marco Uccellini’s “Aria Nona a 3” (1642),

the latter featuring a marriage between hen and the cuckoo (“Maritati insieme la Gallina e il

Cucco fanno un bel concerto”). Both of these examples carry strong resemblance to Farina’s

work and each other, as well as Kircher’s natural or performance practice-extrapolation. In

1650, there were 1500 copies printed of Musurgia Universalis, which quickly spread all

throughout Europe (“In 1652, for example, more than 300 Jesuits came to Rome from all over

the world to elect a new Superior General: every one of them took back one of these sumptuous

volumes, which explains the astonishing diaspora of these books even today.”).25 This clarifies

the motivic inspiration and resemblance of Germans to Kircher and the Italians.

Vivaldi’s Four Seasons

Vivaldi’s Four Seasons are the most representative example of music onomatopoeia in

violin literature. Although he did not use violin technique that surpassed the Germans and was

innovative per se, Vivaldi’s music posed some technical challenges. He composed the Four

Seasons around 1715. The concertos were published in Amsterdam ten years later as a part of

the 12-concerto collection called Il cimento dell’armonia e dell’inventione (The Trial of

Harmony and Invention), with the sonnets which provide a detailed programmatic context for the

music. It is unknown whether the concertos were conceived at the same time as the sonnets that

accompany them, but Vivaldi’s letter to Count Wenzel von Morzin could provide evidence to the

argument that the sonnets came after the concertos. Even if this were the case, many sources

25 Liam Devlin, “Athanasius Kircher,” Glasgow University Library: Special Collections Department ,November,

2002, http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/exhibns/month/nov2002.html (accessed February 16, 2017).

19

claim that Vivaldi is the most likely author of these poems and thus the concertos could have still

been composed with those same ‘unwritten’ programmatic ideas. Vivaldi writes in his preface:

Most Illustrious Sir, When I think of the long succession of years in which I enjoyed the

honorable distinction of serving Your Highness as Maestro di Musica in Italy, I blush at

the thought that I have not yet given any proof of my profound veneration. Therefore I

have decided to have this volume printed, in order to lay it most humbly at Your

Highness’s feet. I beg of you not to be surprised if among those few and feeble concertos

Your Highness should find the Four Seasons which, with your noble bounty, Your

Highness has for so long regarded with indulgence. But may you believe that I have

found them worthy of appearing in print, because with the sonnets not only are they

enhanced by a completely clear interpretation, but so are all the things which are

expressed in them. Therefore I am sure that, although they are the same concertos, they

will seem to Your Highness as new.26

The most frequent animal onomatopoeia that Vivaldi uses is the bird onomatopoeia. In

the first movement of Spring, birds are represented generically. He portrays bird calls with trills,

fast downward gestures, consecutive repeated eighth notes and repeated sixteenth-note patterns.

In the first movement of Summer, however, he depicts different bird species, beginning with the

cuckoo. The technique used is very similar to Biber’s in Sonata Solo Representativa as well as

the other examples that were previously discussed. He also imitates the turtledove and the

goldfinch, both of which can be motivically traced back to the bird imitations in Spring. There

are slight differences: the descending gesture is now ascending (figures 17-18); the long note that

followed the sixteenth notes now precedes them (1st measure of figures 17 and 19); the fast,

repeated passage featuring the interval of minor second is now spanning a fourth (figures 20-21).

Figure 17. Antonio Vivaldi, Spring, mvt. I, mm. 17-19.

26 Walter Kolneder, Antonio Vivaldi: His Life and Works (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1970), 90.

20

Figure 18. Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. I, mm. 66-70.

Figure 19. Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. I, mm.59-61.

Figure 20. Antonio Vivaldi, Spring, mvt. I, mm.62-65.

Figure 21. Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. I, mm.72-77.

Even though somewhat different, all these effects have one thing in common: they are either fast

and reflective of birds calls’ hyper speed (due to their fast heart rates and metabolisms) or they

imitate the inflection in their calls, achieved by using a large interval. For a player of the late

17th/early 18th c., with instrument and bow that have yet to undergo major changes, these

sweeping gestures could have been hard to articulate and control in fast tempos.

Besides birds, Vivaldi imitates dogs barking and insects buzzing. The “faithful dog”

beside his sleeping master is given to the violas in the accompaniment (Spring, movement II). It

21

is rhythmically simple and intended to vocalize a dog’s cries or barks (Il cane che grida). The

instruction on how to perform this effect is, freely translated: always play very loudly, as if

tearing the string with your bow. In many of the recordings available, this effect is not very

stark; the performers usually stylize it and taper it off, almost as to not disturb the sleeping

shepherd played by the solo part. Since Farina composed his capriccio and his motivically-

similar dog variation almost a century before the Four Seasons, it could be safe to assume that

this animal onomatopoeia was premeditated and could have been performed with more vigor and

a stroke that truly felt like “ripping” the bow off the string (very close to the bridge, quasi sul

ponticello).

The flies and gnats appear in the slow movement of Summer. This is probably one of the

first (if not the first) instances of insect onomatopoeia. It is characterized with the dotted-eighth-

note sixteenth note figure and is usually performed close to the bridge in order to imitate the

buzzing sound. The insects in the violins are interrupted by the rumbling thunder (tutti) featuring

an eighth note followed by the repeated sixteenth notes in the low register. These repeated-note

patterns were a characteristic of stile concitato, established by Monteverdi. Stile Concitato was

one of the three affects that Monteverdi extracted from Plato’s modes; the other two being stile

molle and stile temperato. Selfridge claims that the similarities in the style and inspiration

between the stile concitato (in 17th c. Italy) and Sturm und Drang (18th c. Germany) are more

than obvious.27 Monteverdi did, however, find the essence of this affect to be in the imitation of

sounds of war. Arnold writes in “Monteverdi and the Art of War:”

If music was to involve the emotions of man as completely as it was universally agreed

the music of the ancients had done, it must imitate the actions and situations in life which

give rise to these emotions. Music must be imitative; and where better to find a subject

27 Eleanore Selfridge-Field, Venetian Instrumental Music from Gabrieli to Vivaldi, 3rd ed. (New York: Dover

Publications Inc., 1994), 121.

22

for ‘imitation’ than war, in which man was indeed wholly involved, and full of intense

feeling.28

This feeling of “agitation” often found its way in natural phenomena: rumbling thunder (as

previously mentioned) and other tempestuous weather (strong winds, rain, stormy sea, etc.).

Vivaldi excelled at making these effects representing turbulence in nature cause inner turmoil in

his listeners. There are many examples of this in the Four Seasons. In the first movement of

Spring, thunder is represented almost identically to that of Summer (mvt. II) –only rhythmically

diminished (figures 22 and 23). Lightning is depicted with a fast ascending scale-like gesture

(repeated twice; figure 22, m.46).

Figure 22. Antonio Vivaldi, Spring, mvt. I, mm. 44-46.

28 Denis Arnold, “Monteverdi and the Art of War,” The Musical Times 108, no.1491 (1967), 413.

23

Figure 23. Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. II, mm. 189-191.

The rumbling continues until the first theme comes back, the weather calms down and the birds

start singing again.

If one is looking for the epitome of stile concitato in Vivaldi’s opus, it could be found in

the third movement of Summer. It is interesting that Vivaldi provides these effects either in

accompaniment (usually in unison) or in tutti sections. Rarely did he give the soloist this

opportunity, most likely because one instrument cannot match the power of an orchestra. He

attempted to replicate this power, however, in several ways. In m. 237, Vivaldi gave the soloist a

three-string arpeggio, with the moving line high up on the E string (7th position), while using the

open D string for resonance, supported by a drone in the violins and violas (fig. 26). Another

way he made the violin sound more powerful is giving it a theme to be played high on the G

string, while supporting that with a drone of the open D string (mm. 247-250). Playing this

double-stop—maintaining a stable D-drone while playing in the 5th position on the G string

(which indicates the transition of pure gut to silver or copper wound gut string)—definitely put

great demands on the performer, not to mention the large string crossings in measures 295-296,

24

in order to grab the resonant D for added power.

Figure 24. Antonio Vivaldi, Summer, mvt. III, mm.236-239.

These techniques seem to be taken one step further in the concerto that followed the Four

Seasons, “La Tempesta di Mare,” the fifth in his collection of twelve ( Il Cimento dell’ Armonia

e dell’Inventione, Op. 8). In this concerto, the string crossings are more complicated. Vivaldi

does not use the help of the open string in across the strings arpeggios; the case is the same with

double stops (usually no open strings to alleviate the left hand), and the rhythmic impetus is

often placed in the solo part itself (as opposed to the orchestra tuttis, like in the Seasons).

Winter offers a plethora of different weather conditions. In the first movement, Vivaldi

represented ‘the sound’ of ice with the repeated-note sul ponticello effect. The gusts of wind are

also depicted in repetition (m.33), but the sweeping tutti dynamic gestures (piano with a

crescendo to forte) help portray the blowing of the wind (figure 25).

Figure 25. Antonio Vivaldi, Winter, mvt. I, mm.32-34.

25

Even though this does not directly fall under the types of sound addressed in this treatise,

it is a direct product of the cold, icy winter; Vivaldi even imitates the chattering of teeth in the

solo violin (repeated thirty-second note double-stops), which would not have been an easy task

from a technical stand point. Rain drops are represented through the accompaniment pizzicato in

the second movement. The cracking of ice, in the third movement, is given to the soloist in

aggressive and sweeping gestures (m.170-178, fig.26).

Figure 26. Antonio Vivaldi, Winter, mvt. III, mm.172-177.

The “chill north winds” are now blowing at full strength (without the dynamic subtleties

that imitated the speed of the gusts, like in the first movement). The varying direction of the

wind could be painted in the varying direction of the fast passage flourishes in the solo part (m.

201-205, fig. 27). Again, the performer was obviously expected to have great dexterity in the

left hand and good coordination between the two hands.

Figure 27. Antonio Vivaldi, Winter, mvt. III, mm.201-204.

Even though one might not consider Vivaldi to have pushed the limits of violin

technique, his contribution to the world of music onomatopoeia could not be omitted from

writing on this subject. He used techniques that were relatively common for the beginning of the

17th c. and that were established by his virtuosic Italian and German predecessors. However, he

26

employed them in such a musically integrated manner, in which the technique did not serve to

impress but to enhance the desired acoustical effect. With his abundant examples of music

onomatopoeia, Vivaldi helped set a standard for combining specific techniques with specific

sounds of nature (such as birds, bugs, storms, wind, and so forth.).

Kolneder concludes his chapter “Vivaldi’s Programme Music:”

Anyone who simply plays the scales, the broken chords, the double stopping and the

different ways of bowing, will miss what is essential to this music. If the performer does

not make the listener aware that in Vivaldi a scale or a broken chord can represent a

man’s inner disturbance (L’Inquietudine!) caused by his fear of ghosts (Fantasmi!) and of

natural forces (Tempesta!), he himself cannot have felt the forces from which Vivaldi’s

notes arose.29

To summarize, the animal and nature onomatopoeia in the 17th and the early 18th

centuries derives its motivic material for birds’ calls from the Italians and Kircher’s Musurgia

Universalis. It either depicts the hyper speed of the birdsongs and the versatility of the repeated

gestures (such as sweeping scales and fast finger patterns—both requiring great left hand

dexterity), or it possesses an characteristic interval of birdsong inflection and shape (a major or

minor third with cuckoo, set polyphonically where the call is isolated on the lower string, a

technique relying on the right arm’s execution of string crossings). The rooster is another

example of depicting bird call’s shape, with composers generally using major or minor second

and employing small downward glissandos at the ends of the calls. We also see glissando used

in the portrayals of cats and frogs. Sul ponticello is generally employed with the buzzing of the

insects, and animals with coarse and more indefinite pitch (frogs and dogs). It is also used in

association with ice. Rain is ascribed to the pizzicato technique, and the wind and storms are

29 Walter Kolneder, Antonio Vivaldi: His Life and Works, 94.

27

usually generated with the power of tutti and rely on repeated-note gestures, loud dynamics or

sweeping crescendos.

28

CHAPTER 3

20TH AND 21ST CENTURY APPROACHES

Atmospheric Impressionism

The night music style, which commenced with Béla Bartók, might be the most

appropriate place to begin with when discussing nature onomatopoeia in the 20th and 21st

centuries. His attachment to nature made a significant impact on the composer’s life and work.

He wrote in one of his letters, “To be able to work, one must have a zest for life, i.e. a keen

interest in the living universe. One has to be filled with enthusiasm for the Trinity … of Nature,

Art, and Science.”30 Another important factor in the making of this style could have been

Bartók’s admiration for Claude Debussy. In a 1939 interview, Bartók mentioned Debussy as one

of the three masters (the other two being Bach and Beethoven) and expressed his aspiration

towards a “synthesis” of the three, the kind “that will be valid for our time.”31

Interestingly enough, the majority of works that feature the night music style are

composed for piano or strings. Damiana Bratuz writes:

Bartok’s intuition of nature as a mystery is manifested by his continued need for

creation of sound, by his passionate explorations at the threshold of noises…

Bartok satisfies this need of invention of sound by means of the instruments

which are the most classical and, it would seem, the least congenial—strings and

piano.32

The name of this style is often attributed to the fourth piece (in the set of five) of his Out

of Doors Suite for solo piano (1926), called “Musiques Nocturnes.” However, as pointed out by

30 János Demény, ed., Béla Bartók’s Letters (London: Faber and Faber, 1971), 82. 31 Gary Danchenka, “Diatonic Pitch-Class Sets in Bartok’s Night Music,” Indiana Theory Review 8, no.1 (Spring

1987), 19. 32 Damiana Bratuz, “Béla Bartók: A Centenary Homage,” Studies in Music 6 (1981), 104.

29

Danchenka, it was used by Aladar Tóth a Hungarian critic, in 1920, and later on, by Halsey

Stevens, Bartók’s biographer.33 Another compelling term, besides the commonly used night

music and nature music that Danchenka uses in his writing is atmospheric impressionism.

This style is easily identifiable. Halsey Stevens calls it “an atmosphere incapable of

misinterpretation.”34 Danchenka compiled a list of thirteen examples of this atmospheric

impressionism and remarked that most of them were composed later in Bartók’s life, after 1926.

He also made an observation that they were usually featured at the heart of a multi-movement

work, and characterized by slow tempos and soft dynamics.35

What is interesting about this style is that it, for the most part, depicts an atmosphere of

nocturnal nature and wildlife; however, there is a strong abstract quality to it. This did not stop

Bartók’s analysts and other composers to venture guesses. Harley writes about Somfai hearing

“an evening concert of frogs” at the beginning of the “Night Music.” She continues to say that

Zielinski analyzed that same section as one of the most successful examples of bird

onomatopoeia. Mâche stated that the piece depicts the sounds of: “eagle owl, marsh owl,

Tengmalm barn owl, green frog, southern green tree frog, and the cricket.”36

One example of nature onomatopoeia that is everything but abstract, and is recurrent in

some of Bartok’s most important works, is that of a nightingale. Regardless of the instrument it

is given to, this music onomatopoeia, is usually achieved through a “series of accelerating

repetitions of one pitch located in the area D4-F4.”37 This refers to the very high register

positioned three octaves above middle C. Of course, this would be too high on most instruments,

33 Gary Danchenka, “Diatonic Pitch-Class Sets in Bartok’s Night Music,” 17. 34 Halsey Stevens, The Life and Music of Béla Bartók (New York: Oxford University Press, 1964), 135. 35 Danchenka, “Diatonic Pitch-Class Sets in Bartok’s Night Music,” 24. 36 Maria Anna Harley, “‘Natura naturans, natura naturata’ and Bartok’s Nature Music Idiom,” Studia Musicologica

Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 36, ¾ (July 1995), 331 and 333. 37 Ibid., 334.

30

so it is usually presented two octaves lower. One of the examples of nightingale is found in

Bartók’s String Quartet No.4 (1928), in the third movement (figure 28). Harley writes:

This instance of Bartok’s nature music idiom includes more than vaguely “birdlike”

features; here, an image of the nightingale’s song constitutes a key element in an intricate

compositional design. The opening pitch of the violin part, corresponds precisely to the

basic pitch in the nightingale’s emblematic phrase, which is transposed two octaves

down, but retains its characteristic dynamic contour of a crescendo. The variational

repetition of a limited set of pitches ending in a trill (mm.40, 70-71) is also typical of

many musical portrayals of the voice of the nocturnal singer (e.g. Beethoven’s Symphony

no.6). In mm. 37-38, Bartók replaces the basic interval of the major second with a series

of minor sevenths, major seconds, and octaves in alternating direction. Here, the

nightingale resembles Mahler’s (from the Finale of Symphony no.2) in its melodic

flexibility and the sudden widening of the pitch compass, from one repeated note to

elaborate figurations. A question arises about the role of birdsong imagery and nature

symbolism in the whole Quartet. According to the composer’s description of the

structure of the piece in its final form, “the slow movement is the kernel of the work; the

other movements are, as it were, arranged in layers around it.”38

Figure 28. Béla Bartók, String Quartet No.4, mvt. III, mm. 34-40, Violin I.

38 Maria Anna Harley, “‘Natura naturans, natura naturata’ and Bartok’s Nature Music Idiom,” 338.

31

Bartok’s is a much more authentic depiction of nightingale than Biber’s or Athanasius

Kircher’s. However, if we look back at the Musurgia Universalis and reread Kircher’s definition

of three different call patterns, and remind ourselves of Biber’s “Nightingale” movement in

Sonata Representativa, there are obvious parallels, even if rudimentary. What makes this

‘updated’ version so difficult is the clarity of articulation in the soft dynamic, and not letting the

string crossings in mm. 37-39 stick out too much and disrupt the melodic line. The high range of

the first violin part, and the static, drone-like nature of the accompaniment allow for the solo part

to be easily noticed without having to change the dynamics or the character of the birdcall.

Another demand on the player is to not sound mechanical, while having all the technical aspects

of proper execution in mind. Bartók was known for putting a lot of performance indications in

the scores, and the notes and rhythms are expected to be played as they are written. The call

itself should, however, feel like it is coming from the nature itself, and not a human trying to

mimic a bird by playing pitches in a given tempo and rhythm.

Because of the return to the programmatic with the more frequent usage of the music

onomatopoeia in the 20th and 21st centuries, it is important to understand the function of nature in

Bartok’s music. This might be the result of man’s alienation from nature due to the advantages

or ailments of modern society (depending on one’s perspective). Certainly, in the period

previously discussed, it was easier to be in touch with nature, and the imitation was therefore a

mode of entertainment and a tool for the advancement of technique. With Bartók and some of

his successors, nature becomes the place to go to in order to find oneself again, so it has a deeper,

more symbolic meaning. It is no wonder that the nightingale call in the String Quartet No.4 is in

32

the middle of the third movement, or as Harley puts it, it is: “the kernel of the kernel.”39 She

writes:

The String Quartet no.4 as a whole may be said to portray a transition from alienation to

liberation, lacking to fulfillment, limitation to wholeness. This transition, triggered by an

encounter with the mystery of Nature, is represented in the musical structure. Birdsong

portrayal occupies a privileged location in the structure because it provides a decisive

turning point in the underlying narrative. Thus, Bartók’s work suggests that in order to

arrive at a state of spiritual, personal wholeness and freedom, one has to go through the

narrow gate, the “Eye of the Needle” marked by a close encounter with Nature, by an

ecological epiphany. The sound of the nightingale denotes this transformative moment of

illumination and healing.40

This positioning of the nature element is evident in another string quartet. Black Angels

(Images I: Thirteen Images from the Dark Land), by George Crumb, was composed for electric

string quartet on Friday, March 13, 1970.41 Threnody I, II and III are movements one, seven and

thirteen, and all represent insect onomatopoeia. They provide obvious formal symmetry to the

work, although are in opposition to nature’s structural placement in Bartók. Unlike the

nightingale in String Quartet no.4, the insects in Crumb’s Black Angels seem to come not from a

place of self-reflection and connection to the nature, but a place of darkness and dormancy of the

human soul. The fact that these are “electric” insects also suggests a feeling of contradiction to

nature.

It is important to note that the inspiration for “Night of the Electric Insects” (Black

Angels) came directly from Bartók’s “insect inhabited night music.”42 Crumb even notes

himself, when asked about the motivation behind these movements in the Black Angels: “it was

39 Maria Anna Harley, “‘Natura naturans, natura naturata’ and Bartok’s Nature Music Idiom,” 341. 40 Harley, 341-342. 41 Don Gillespie, ed.,George Crumb: Profile of a Composer (New York: C.F. Peters Corporation, 1986), 107. 42 Richard Steinitz, “George Crumb,” The Musical Times 119, no. 1628 (Oct., 1978), 845.

33

by extension of Bartók’s insect music, maybe.”43 In his interview with Robert Shuffett, Crumb

talks about his biggest musical influences:

Of the “classical” twentieth-century composers, probably Bartók and Webern have had

the most influence on my music. I also feel a certain stylistic affinity with Ives,

Messiaen, and Berio, and there is undoubtedly a degree of influence here, too. But

perhaps the most profound influence on my own thinking was Debussy, who of course

also has to count as a twentieth century composer. Incidentally, I knew quite a bit of his

later music by the mid-forties, and at that time, in Charleston, West Virginia, this music

represented the outer fringes of the avant garde!44

Another important influence on Crumb’s style is his love of nature. Kristina Knowles

writes on this subject in her article: “A Broken Idyll: Post-Pastoralism in the Works of George

Crumb”:

Crumb believes that the “ancient idea” of music as “reflection of nature” provides the

answer to many of the problems facing contemporary music. This “ancient idea,” which

he attributes to the Greeks’ belief that art should imitate nature, is articulated in his own

music through artistic representations of natural sounds. While he acknowledges that

“there’s probably some larger meaning that they [the Greeks] had in mind,” he suggests

that this concept of art imitating nature can also have more simple meanings, “the sounds

of wind, the ocean, the birds, the insects, those are immediate models for musical

gestures.” In many ways, Crumb’s pastoral evocations reside in the representation of

these natural sounds and their references to larger themes. He noted, “in a larger sense,

the rhythms of nature—large and small, the sounds of wind and water, the sounds of

birds and insects—must inevitably find their analogues in music.”45

While looking at the large score of Black Angels, one can notice a lot of extended

techniques. Many call Crumb the inventor of new techniques, at which he usually humbly

responds that he simply collected and used the techniques that have been “in the air for some

time.”46

43 Mark Alburger, “Day of Vox Crumbae: an Ancient, Angelic Interview with the Phantom Gondolier,” Twentieth

Century Music 4 (1997), 16. 44 Don Gillespie, ed.,George Crumb: Profile of a Composer, 34. 45 Kristina Knowles, “A Broken Idyll: Post-Pastoralism in the Works of George Crumb,” Revue Électronique

D’Études sur le Monde Anglophone (Feb. 14, 2017), https://journals.openedition.org/erea/5781 (accessed March 3,

2018). 46 Donal Henahan, “Crumb, the Tone Poet,” The New York Times (May 11, 1975), 5.

34

The music onomatopoeia is rather obvious. The buzzing insects are represented with a

fast tremolo, staying close the bridge (sul ponticello), and glissando to various pitches (fig. 29).

The dynamic changes are extreme and sudden (fff-ppp), and on more than one occasion Crumb

demands from the performers to play either a quarter tone sharp or flat.

Figure 29. George Crumb, Black Angels, “Threnody I: Night of the Electric Insects,” beginning.

To summarize: there are five different techniques involved in the insect onomatopoeia of

Threnody I. These are: fast tremolo, glissando, sul ponticello, extreme dynamic contrasts, and

quarter tone awareness. What is so hard about this movement is keeping the length and the

character of the stroke the same throughout, and shifting between the standard sense of pitch

center and intonation and Crumb’s quarter tone based intonation. This juxtaposition of different

techniques makes the ‘insect’ movements quite difficult to properly execute. Crumb anticipated

some of the problems that classically trained musicians would encounter and provided an

instruction in the score: “Make a continuous glissando, without dwelling on given pitches. The

tremolo should be extremely rapid.” The second appearance of the insects (in “Threnody II:

Black Angels!”) is a little different from the furious cicada-like waves of sound, the

35

onomatopoeia is now found in the glissando trills; the title for this movement is also different

than the outer movements of the piece. The Solo Obligato: Insect Sounds, first violin ‘cadenza,’

is elided with the eighth movement. These gliss-trills make a comeback in the thirteenth

movement (figure 30).

Figure 30. George Crumb, Black Angels, “Threnody III: Night of the Electric Insects,”beginning.

As we can see, the treatment of onomatopoeia and the techniques used are almost identical: the

difference being trills instead of tremolos, and the soft dynamics. These two variations on

combinations of techniques have one thing in common: one requires the right arm to be moving

quickly, and the other one requires a quick alteration between the two fingers of the left hand.

For a performer, the main issue is finding the right type of sound (but bearing in mind all of the

instructions) and then, maintaining that sound. Crumb saw this work as: “voyage of the soul.”

He explains the Three Threnodies as: “three stages of this voyage,” that represent “Departure

(fall from grace), Absence (spiritual annihilation) and Return (redemption).47

47 Don Gillespie, ed.,George Crumb: Profile of a Composer, 107.

36

Another work by Crumb strongly influenced by Bartók’s Night Music is Four Nocturnes:

Night Music II for violin and piano. The onomatopoeic nature of this work is described by

Steinitz:

Two early works of Crumb are entitled Night Music I (1963) and Night Music II (1964).

The second, for violin and piano, unites a Bartókian nightscape—a world explored even

further by Crumb—with the eerie, fragmentary, hyper-expressive minutae of Webern’s

prophetic op.5. Tiny ostinatos, very high flautando phrases for the violin, harmonics and

melancholy glissandos, tremolos both on the keys and inside the piano, percussive raps

on its frame, mechanical patterings and brief, gossamer threads of melody are knit,

especially in the third piece, into superbly evocative music.48

Crumb has the following to say in his program notes: “The music is of the utmost

delicacy and the prevailing sense of ‘suspension in time’ is only briefly interrupted by the

animated and rhythmically more forceful second piece. The sustained lyric idea presented at the

beginning of the work, the nervous tremolo effects, and the stylized bird songs are all recurrent

elements.”49 The examples of music onomatopoeia are abundant in this piece, however, just like

is the case with Bartók’s night music style, it is hard to point out specifically what the object of

portrayal might be at all times. The more obvious one is that of a birdsong, presented in a lyrical

(figure 31) and then a more animated manner (figure 32).

Figure 31. George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno I: serenamente.”

48 Richard Steinitz, “George Crumb,” 846. 49 Don Gillespie, ed.,George Crumb: Profile of a Composer, 104-105.

37

Figure 32. George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno I: serenamente,” staff 2.

Apart from the timing of the left hand pizzicato acciaccatura, and the double-stop glissandi, the

techniques used are not too innovative. Given the high range (which is closer to real bird’s than

Bartók’s onomatopoeia or that of the earlier composers’) and the quick string crossings, it can

still be considered advanced. The second appearance of the theme (this time cleverly inverted) is

followed by a much more difficult combination of techniques (fig. 33).

Figure 33. George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno I: serenamente,” staff 4.

Here we have quick transitions between the sul ponticello across the string passages and the con

legno ricochet which takes a high level of coordination and anticipation from the performer.

The second movement could be interpreted as ‘insect music.’ However, this time, a

different variant of music onomatopoeia needs to be brought out. The changeable quality of

music makes way for a motion-based onomatopoeia. What is interesting is that the word

onomatopoeia originates from Greek words onoma, onomatos, meaning name, and poiein,

meaning to compose or make.50 There is no direct reference to sound in the word itself. Rather

than calling it a mimicry or a phenomime,51 a more appropriate term could be physical

50 Online Etymology Dictionary, s.v. “onomatopoeia,” accessed March 2, 2018,

https://www.etymonline.com/word/onomatopoeia. 51 Masayoshi Shibatani, The Languages of Japan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 154.

38

onomatopoeia. The second nocturne is marked with a pizzicato sempre! indication and it

tediously exploits the vast range of this technique. One could interpret the chromaticism in the

violin and the piano as insects creeping around the forest in the night. There are many

performing difficulties in this nocturne: the first one is simply the accuracy of the single-stop

chromatic pizzicatos (in varying dynamics and under a legato arch), the second one is a double-

stop pizzicato where one note glisses to another, the third one is fast acciaccatura performed

with the right hand-immediately followed by a left hand pizzicato, the fourth is glissando triple

and quadruple pizzes with an indication for a downward motion-starting from the top string

(which is quite counter-intuitive); there are Bartók pizzicati, there is a bariolage-like pizzicato

effect (alternating left and right hand pizzicato of the same note), and there is an effect of tapping

on the belly of the instrument with fingertips (figure 34). None of these, except the single stop

and the Bartók pizzicato, are very common in performance practice. They are therefore quite

challenging to execute, especially because they usually require a combination of difficult

techniques and the tempo of this nocturne is very fast.

Figure 34. George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno II: scorrevole, vivace possibile,” begin.

39

The onomatopoeia in Notturno III: contemplativo seems more diverse and almost like a

synthesis of the previous two movements. One could distinguish the sounds of a bird

(harmonics), wind (harmonics and glissandi), insects (sul poticello chromaticism), and rain.

Rain is depicted in the final section of the nocturne and titled “Rain-Death Music.” The gestures

are definitely more aggressive and unpredictable than the simple accompaniment pizzicato from

the second movement of Vivaldi’s Winter. The techniques involved are incomparably more

challenging. Crumb uses sul ponticello glissando and tremolo, con legno ricochet, striking the

wood of violin with fingertips, and a fingernail pizzicato. Even though these gestures are rather

involved, the image of rain does come to mind if performed successfully (especially with the

help of the piano), figure 35.

Figure 35. George Crumb, Four Nocturnes, “Notturno III: contemplativo,” staff 4.

The last nocturne could be seen as a decorated version of the first one (formal symmetry).

Here, we can see a bird call very similar to the one found close to the beginning of the piece.

This time, however, the onomatopoeia is helped with the usage of harmonics (fig.36) which

seems appropriate considering that the beginning of the bird call has been presented with

harmonics in the third nocturne.

40

Figure 36. George Crumb. Four Nocturnes, “Notturno IV: con un sentiment di nostalgia,” p.2.

The difficulty behind executing these harmonic passages well is not helped by the demand for

various placements of the bow in relation to the bridge (sul tasto, sul ponticello) and the very soft

dynamic; also, the alteration between the natural and artificial harmonics takes a bit of

coordination between the fingers of the left hand.

Although known mainly for his art songs, American composer Ned Rorem (b.1923), has

provided quite an eclectic opus. He was born in Richmond, Indiana and studied with prominent

American composers such as such as Leo Sowerby, Virgil Thomson, Aaron Copland, and David

Diamond. He finished his Bachelor degrees at Northwestern University and the Curtis Institute

and he did his Master’s at the Julliard School of Music. In 1949 he went to Paris to study with

Honegger. In Paris he met, and spent time with: Francis Poulenc, Georges Auric, Darius

Milhaud (etc.). In his copious writings on music, a central place is taken by the French

Impressionists and Stravinsky.52

52 Anthony Tommasini, James Holmes and Arlys McDonald, “Rorem, Ned,” Grove Music Online (Oxford

University Press, 2001), accessed March 4, 2018.

41

Among his numerous works are two collections for piano and violin called Day Music

and Night Music (1971 and 1972, respectively). Four out of eight movements in the Night Music

carry animal titles (2. Mosquitos and Earthworms, 3. Gnats, 5. Epeira Sclopetaria, and 6. The

Two Moths), as well as the one movement from the Day Music (4. Bats—curiously enough).

The Night Music is not very similar to Bartók or Crumb’s night music in style. The movements

are miniature character pieces; they are rather minimalist and they seem to represent the physical

onomatopoeia for the most part. The annotation by Boosey and Hawkes indicates that the

composer does not mind if the “studies” were to be played independently or in a combination

with the movements from the other cycle. The employment of the word “study” is quite

interesting. Andrew Farach-Colton calls them “brief etudes” in his article “Postcard from

Paris.”53 The repetitive, mechanic and technical nature of these movements could be interpreted

as didactic. However, given that most of the techniques involved are string crossings, and

shifting (almost exclusively), one could argue that these pieces have not been composed for

educational purposes.

The only movement that is imitative of the animal’s sound is “The Mosquitos and

Earthworms” (the mosquitoes being in the violin, and the latter in the piano part). The

movement features a constant tremolo (usually played as sixteenth notes) that undergoes a slow

build up in dynamics and range. It is quite chromatic, therefore it can be tasking to learn. The

waves in the melodic patterns could be indicative of the buzzing coming and dying off as the

mosquito approaches and suddenly leaves. The buildup also brings a visualization of the

mosquito reaching its victim, as the listener is getting progressively more and more anxious with

the subtle changes in dynamics and range.

53 Andrew, Farach-Colton, “Postcard from Paris,” Gramophone: The World’s Best Classical Music Reviews, 2003,

accessed March 7, 2018.

42

The other movements, including “Bats,” refer to the physical movement rather than the

sound itself (physical onomatopoeia). The imitation is based on their unpredictable but generally

circular flight (therefore the constant repetition of the rise and fall of the motivic cells) and the

frequency in the fluttering of the wings. It could be argued that the pizzicatos in “The Two

Moths” and “Gnats,” depict the sound that the insect makes when its wings bump into a hard

surface (such as a garden light). The onomatopoeia in “Epeira Sclopetaria” is given to the piano

part.

Besides the usage of some clever compositional techniques in these miniatures, the

demand on the performer is advanced, yet not that significant. These pieces are hard to practice

for an extended period of time due to the continuous usage of the same types of muscles, but

they do not use any techniques that are hard to execute independently of the context; the only

thing that makes them more challenging are the fast tempos.

Another composer heavily influenced by the French impressionism was George Enescu

(1881-1955). He in fact spent a majority of his student years in Paris, under the tutelage of Jules

Massenet and Gabriel Fauré. Enescu composed his programmatic suite, Impressions d’Enfance,

Op.28 (Childhood Memories), in 1940. The chronology behind the movements follows the

course of a day (day, night, dawn) through the child’s psyche. The titles of the movements are as

follows:

I. “Ménétrier” – “The Country Fiddler”

II. “Viux Mendiant” – “The Old Beggar”

III. “Russelet au Fond du Jardin” –“Little Creek in the Back of the Garden”

IV. “L’Oiseau en Cage et le Coucou au Mur” –“The Bird in the Cage and the Cuckoo

on the Wall”

V. “Chanson pour Bercer” –“Lullaby”

VI. “Grillon” –“The Cricket”

VII. “Lune à Travers les Vitres” –“The Moon Shining through the Window”

VIII. “Vent dans la Cheminée” –“Wind Blowing through the Chimney”

IX. “Tempête au Dehors, dans la Nuit” –“Tempest outside in the Night”

43

X. “Lever du soleil” –“Sunrise” 54

In the third movement, Enescu uses four techniques to evoke the sounds of the creek. He

employs fast thirty-second note quintuplets, sextuplets, septuplets, and trills to depict the murmur

of the water (figures 37 and 38), harmonics to portray the water’s transparency (figure 39) and

glissandi to describe water’s fluidity (figure 40).

Figure 37. George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. III, rehearsal number 7.

Figure 38. George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. III, 2 measures before rehearsal number

9.

Figure 39. George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. III, 2 measures before rehearsal number

11.

Figure 40. George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. III, rehearsal number 8.

54 Pascal Bentoiu, Masterworks of George Enescu: A Detailed Analysis (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2010), 402.

44

This clever usage of violin techniques for music onomatopoeia, proves that Enescu was a violin

virtuoso himself, and reminds one of Farina and Biber.

The fourth movement features a remarkable depiction of the bird in a cage. What one can

see right from the onset is that the range is much closer to that of the bird’s (which we have not

seen in any of the previously discussed bird onomatopoeia). The violin range in fact exceeds that

of the piano on several occasions. The calls are repetitive and fragmented, just like the earlier

examples. Enescu used tremolo and glissandi extensively, which gave the music more authenticity

in portraying the sounds of a bird (figure 41). The movement starts without the piano, which could

have implied the isolation of a caged bird. The descending gesture of the beginning motive and

the indication nostalgico also contribute to the sad inflection in the little bird’s call. Its song is

interrupted by a repeated cuckoo call, figure 42, which sounds abrasive (senza sordina) and

mechanical (like a cuckoo clock).

Figure 41. George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. IV, beginning.

Figure 42. George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. IV, 2 measures before rehearsal number

15.

45

This is what Enescu had to say on the appearance of cuckoo in the movement: “I loved him just

as much [as the poor prisoner bird in the cage]. It was chiming seven o’clock, at the same time as

the old horologe; I knew that it was time then to cover the little bird [in the cage] for overnight.”55

Such was the genius of Enescu that the last two fragments of the call (after the cuckoo) are marked

quasi sul ponticello, as if the call was coming from under a covered cage.

The short “Cricket” movement is very simple, featuring only the interval of minor second.

It is in the high range and the recurring call is played as a saltando (ricochet) stroke (figure 43).

It is rather evocative of the cricket call.

Figure 43. George Enescu, mvt. V, beginning.

The sixth movement, besides sounding dream-like (sognando con grazia) and having a

very impressionistic accompaniment (reminiscent of Fauré or Debussy), does not possess any

particular onomatopoeic effects; after all what does the moon sound like? There are references to

the “Lullaby” (movement V), which contribute to the desired atmosphere, and one could interpret

the double stops as rays of moon-light coming through the window shutters. However, this

movement seems to be more symbolic than onomatopoeic.

“Window Blowing Through the Chimney” is very evocative of the suggested context.

Bentoiu calls it: “a sensational onomatopoeic translation that only a violinist of genius could have

discovered amid the strings of his instrument (Quasi sul ponticello, un poco flautato, scivolando,

55 Pascal Bentoiu, Masterworks of George Enescu: A Detailed Analysis, 411.

46

non vibrato).56 Truly, the combination of the instructions that Enescu has given and the curious

intervallic choices for the double stops (mostly augmented fourths at the beginning) gives a very

strong visualization to the listener, as seen in figure 44.

Figure 44. George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, end of mvt. VII-beginning of mvt. VIII.

Enescu’s depiction of wind (and the tools that he used) is much more advanced than that of Vivaldi.

Vivaldi used repeated note-gestures, providing the onomatopoeia with the help of crescendo

sweeps.

The wind continues into the “Tempest Outside in the Night.” It is quite chromatic and

Enescu keeps the sul tasto marking even as the wind gets progressively louder. Enescu uses

rhythmic diminution and eventually two-note tremolo for more intensity. The á l’ord. comes

before a place that could be seen as depicting the lighting (fig.45).

Figure 45. George Enescu, Impressions d’Enfance, mvt. IX, 2 measures before rehearsal number

30.

The last movement’s role (“The Sunrise”) is primarily cyclical; Enescu referenced a

number of themes from the previous movements and used the ending as a unifier. The change in

56 Pascal Bentoiu, Masterworks of George Enescu: A Detailed Analysis, 412.

47

the character from the beginning’s dolce, chiaro, to vibr. appass. and con espansione e una grande

sonoritá could portray the rise of the sun (from its initial stage to its remarkable power). This type

of musical progression (or text painting) behind the physical onomatopoeia is reminiscent of the

first movement of Eugène Ysaÿe’s Sonata no.5 (1923/24), “L’Aurore.” This movement starts out

with a transparent and simple sound; it slowly intensifies with the smaller note values, the higher

range and the louder dynamics, only to flamboyantly finish on a G5-B6 tenth (in a high register)

imitating the full grandeur of a risen sun.

Another piece worthy of mention, but widely unknown, is Fuminori Tanada’s Echoing

Forest II for violin and piano (the first one is composed for solo clarinet). Tanada was born in

1961 in Okayama and studied at the Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music, now

referred to as Tokyo University of the Arts. From the years 1984 to 1987, he studied at the

Conservatoire National Superieur de Musique in Paris, under Claude Ballif, Paul Méfano, Serge

Nigg and Betsy Jolas. At the conservatory, he won first prizes in composition, orchestration and

accompaniment. Besides composing, he is also an active performer of contemporary music, as the

pianist of the L’Itinéraire ensemble.57

There is not much information to be found on the piece itself. Dejana Sekulić offers the

composer’s program notes on her website. These would roughly translate from French to:

“Echoing Forest II for violin and piano is inspired by the sounds of nature, specifically the Jura,

where I spend every summer; it is a unique environment: there’s rustling of the trees by the wind

in the forest, the fog through which the sun rays pierce, the evanescent sound of bells, and one

can even hear someone playing piano in the distance…”58

57 “Fuminori Tanada,” B.R.A.H.M.S., Ressources. iRCAM, December, 2009, accessed March 7, 2018,

http://brahms.ircam.fr/fuminori-tanada#bio. 58 “Forest Echo II, program notes,” Dejana Sekulic, December 2009, accessed March 5, 2018,

http://www.dejanasekulic.com/news31.html.

48

Indeed, one can hear the imagery that the composer provided. The musical gestures are

evocative of the night music in Bartók and Crumb. The onomatopoeia is abstract and

atmospheric. There are a few distinctive approaches to portraying the sounds of wind in the

piece. The first one, the “rustling of the trees by the wind” is presented through the chromatic

wave-like gestures that keep coming back in the piano part throughout the piece (figure 46); in

her recording, Dejana Sekulić performs these as “articulate glissandos.”

Figure 46. Fuminori Tanada, Echoing Forest II, mm. 15-19 (second appearance).

When one listens to it, this onomatopoeia could be interpreted as sounds of birds or insects.

However, the composer’s suggestion leads one to a more informed conclusion. Although the

flora of Jura might not be such common knowledge, any imaginative listener could find a

personal association to this musical gesture.

A more indisputable depiction of the wind is found in his slow and repeated glissandi

sections (figure 47).

Figure 47. Fuminori Tanada, Echoing Forest II, mm. 63-65 (the last example in the piece).

49

Another identifiable onomatopoeia is found in the repeated sul tasto-sul ponticello motivic cells

and it depicts fog (the block chords in the piano part being the rays of sunshine piercing

through), as seen in figure 48.

Figure 48. Fuminori Tanada, Echoing Forest II, mm. 38-40.

Tanada uses some other contemporary violin techniques as well, such as variants on left-hand

pressure and tremolos that glissando only on one note at a time. The piece ends with the sounds

of bells in the piano and a quote of Fauré’s Nocturne No.2, with the violin tremolo-gliss that

goes up but decrescendos until it dies off.

What is very interesting when discussing onomatopoeia in music, and in particular-violin

music, is that both of these time periods (17th-18th c. and 20th-21st c.) seem to have been

preceded or inspired by the French. Nature onomatopoeia first appeared in the music of French

medieval and renaissance composers.59 The 20th and 21st c. composers who used nature

onomatopoeia all seemed to have been heavily influenced by French ‘impressionists.’ The way

French composers used color, as this malleable tool for shaping musical ideas, corresponds to the

unrestricted character of nature onomatopoeia in music.

59 Emily Doolittle, “Crickets in the Concert Hall—A History of Animals in Western Music.”

50

CHAPTER 4

ONOMATOPOEIA IN THE LATE 18TH AND 19TH CENTURIES

German Idealism

The reason why there seems to be a two-century-long gap between the two periods that

were prolific in the use of nature onomatopoeia in violin music is that evocative music was

considered to be in bad taste by the critics and most composers in the 18th and 19th centuries.

Since the evocative effects in music were a priori dismissed, composers generally avoided them.

Even when they employed this type of writing, justification was expected and usually provided

(such was the case with Beethoven and Pastoral Symphony and Haydn’s Seasons). Castelões

quoted Carl Dalhaus on this matter, and defined his Tonmalerei as “simple imitation of acoustic

phenomena of the external world:”

From around 1770 onwards, however, at any rate in Germany, it [Tonmalerei] was

considered aesthetically suspect. Beethoven’s defense of programme music in the

Pastoral Symphony as ‘more the expression of feeling than painting’-which was actually

interpreted as a repudiation of programme music by those who despised it but admired

Beethoven- echoed in the general view of aesthetic cultivated people around 1800, to

whom crude naturalistic Tonmalerei was repugnant- or at best tolerable as a medium of

naïve musical humor.60

To summarize, Dalhaus used some rather strong language when talking about nature

onomatopoeia: “despised”, “considered aesthetically suspect”, “crude”, and “repugnant-or at

best tolerable as a medium of naïve musical humor.” “Humor” was often mentioned by these

critics but its potential was never deemed worthy of examination (as pointed out by Paul

60 Carl Dalhaus, Realism in Nineteenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985). 21-22.

51

Dukas).61 In most cases, it seemed that “humor” was used as a derogatory term, since humor to

Germans represented a sort of antithesis to the absolute in music (The Idea).

This dogmatic view of nature onomatopoeia in music often reached a place of conflict

when a critic would find himself making abstract justifications of its use (by the composers he

greatly admired). Eduard Hanslick provides the following explanation for the “examples of the

cockcrow in Haydn’s The Seasons, the cuckoo, nightingale, and quail songs in Spohr’s

Consecration of Sound, and Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony:”62

When we hear this imitation, however, and in a musical work at that, the imitation would

have in that work not musical but poetical significance. We would hear the cockcrow

displayed not as beautiful music, nor as music at all, but only as the mental impression

associated with this natural phenomenon.63

Coming from an ardent denier of nature onomatopoeia, as not having the capacity to be

assimilated into respectable music, this justification seems contradictory to his beliefs. Hanslick

attempts to reconcile German Idealism and its focus on reason and logic (“mental impression”)

to the “senses, the external world, and matter” (nature onomatopoeia) by means of poetry.64

Even though he might have been satisfied with this hypothesis, one might not see the solidity or

logic behind this argument.

Regardless of the strong criticism, nature onomatopoeia made its way into chamber

music on several occasions. In 1787, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart wrote a quirky Divertimento

for two horns and a string quartet (K. 522) entitled Ein musikalischer Spaß or A Musical Joke.

Many critics classified the piece as a parody on popular and amateur music however, much of

61 Paul Dukas, “Musique et Comédie,” Les Écrits de Paul Dukas sur la Musique (Paris: Société d’éditions françaises

et internationals, 1948), 198. 62 Luiz E. Castelões, “A Catalogue of Music Onomatopoeia,” 310. 63 Eduard Hanslick, On the Musically Beautiful: a Contribution towards the Revision of the Aesthetics of Music

(Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1986), 75-76. 64 Castelões, “A Catalogue of Music Onomatopoeia,”306.

52

the information pertaining to the piece suggests otherwise. This sextet is the first composition to

follow the deaths of Mozart’s father, Leopold, and his pet starling. There are several factors that

contribute to the argument that Mozart dedicated the piece to his bird: the analysis of the

original score determine that it was “composed in fragments between 1784 and 1787” which

were the years framing Mozart’s ownership of the pet starling. It also includes a theme from his

Piano Concerto no.17, K.453 (the anecdote has it that this mimicry-prone bird whistled the

excerpt at Mozart when he entered the pet shop which was the reason he bought it). Mozart

cared so much about his starling that he held a funeral for it and wrote a touching eulogy in the

form of a poem.65 The other reasons why the piece could be seen to mimic the bird’s erratic

vocalizations are given by the authors of “Mozart’s Starling,” Meredith J. West and Andrew P.

King, and are reflected in the character of the music itself:

Does it bear the vocal autograph of a starling? To our ears, yes. The “illogical piercing

together” is in keeping with the starlings’ intertwining of whistled tunes. The

“awkwardness” could be due to the starlings’ tendencies to whistle off-key or to fracture

musical phrases at unexpected points. The presence of drawn out, wandering phrases of

uncertain structure is also a characteristic of starling soliloquies. Finally, the abrupt end,

as if the instruments had simply ceased to work, has the signature of starlings written all

over it.66

The techniques used in the possible depictions of bird song are quite common. The bird-

like elements are mostly featured in the violin (figure 49) or the interaction between two string

instruments (figure 50).

Figure 49. Ein musikalischer Spaß, K.522, movement I, mm. 24-26.

65 Meredith J. West and Andrew P.King, “Mozart’s Starling,” American Scientist 78 (March-April 1990): 112. 66 Ibid.

53

Figure 50. Ein musikalischer Spaß, K.522, movement I, mm. 16-23.

Other examples could be found in the Trio section of the Minuetto and the involved violin

cadenza in the Adagio cantabile which has a rather tonally surprising ending.

Although it might have come before the critical revolt against nature onomatopoeia in

music, The Frogs or Die Relinge by G.P.Telemann (c.1720), TWV 51:A4, makes for an

incredible contribution to the style of animal onomatopoeia with the evocative effects very

comparable to Biber’s short frog variation in his Sonata Representativa but much more

elaborated. It is composed for solo violin, three other violin parts, viola, and basso continuo.

The solo part is only prominent in the first movement with its frequent “croaking” interjections

(with the help of glissandi and bariolage). Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin provides a

compelling performance of this concerto (Harmonia Mundi, 2002).

Some other instances of animal onomatopoeia can be found in Haydn’s chamber music.

Three of his string quartets were given nicknames based on their association with animal sounds.

His Op.33, No. 3 is nicknamed The Bird (No.32, Hob. III: 39) and composed in 1781; Op.50,

No.6 is called The Frog (No.41, Hob. III: 49) and composed in 1787; and Op.64, No.5 (No.53,

Hob. III:63) is nicknamed The Lark.

54

Symphonic or Tone Poems

It was not until Berlioz that critics’ view of nature onomatopoeia started to soften. In his

essay, “On Imitation in Music,” (probably a reaction to the criticism of Symphonie Fantastique

by François-Joseph Fétis and others) Berlioz establishes four rules that composers should abide

by when using music onomatopoeia:

If we were to accept imitation among musical devices without detracting from music’s

independent power or nobleness, the first condition is that imitation shall virtually never

be an end but only a means; that it shall never be considered (except very rarely) the main

musical idea, but only the complement of that idea, joined to the main idea in a logical

and natural manner.

The second condition to making imitation acceptable is that it shall concern something

worthy of holding the listener’s attention, and it shall not (at least in serious works) be

used to render sounds, motions, or objects that belong outside the sphere which art cannot

desert without self-degradation.

The third is that the imitation, without aping reality as by an exact substitution of nature

for art, shall nonetheless be close enough for the composer’s intent to avoid

misconception in the minds of attentive audience.

The fourth and last condition is that physical imitation shall never occur in the very spot

where emotional imitation (expressiveness) is called for, and thus encroach with

descriptive futilities when the drama is proceeding apace and passion alone deserves a

voice.67

Berlioz then offers the “Storm” in the Pastoral Symphony by Beethoven as a “magnificent

exception” to his “first rule which allows imitation only as a means and not as an end.”68 He

goes on to say:

For this symphonic movement is wholly given over to the reproduction of the diverse

noises heard during a violent storm which breaks suddenly over some village festivities.

First a few drops of rain, then the rising wind, the thunder grumbling dully in the

distance, the birds seeking shelter; finally the approaching gale, the boughs that split, men

67 Hector Berlioz, “De l’imitation musicale,” in Fantastic Symphony, ed. Edward T. Cone, 38. 68 Richard Taruskin, Music in the Nineteenth Century, The Oxford History of Western Music (New York: Oxford

University Press, 2006), http://www.oxfordwesternmusic.com/view/Volume3/actrade-9780195384833-div1-

006007.xml , accessed March 7, 2018.

55

and animals scattering with cries of dismay, the shattering bolts of lightning, the

floodgates of heaven opening, the elements let loose—chaos.69

Even though Berlioz left room for successful exceptions to his rules, one can imply that

this could only be achieved in the larger forms. That is why it is hard to find nature

onomatopoeia in the instrumental music of the 19th century. Berlioz left an impact, and could be

considered one of the propagators of the tone-poem genre. This new aesthetic welcomed the

pictorial representation in music and in particular, nature onomatopoeia. Liszt was the true

pioneer of the genre but many others followed. Bedřich Smetana’s first in the set of six

symphonic poems (Má Vlast), Vltava, evokes the sounds of the river under the fortress of

Vyšehrad; Dvořák’s V přírodě (In Nature's Realm), The Water Goblin, and others contain

references to nature; Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain and Borodin’s In the Steppes of

Central Asia tell a story through musical landscaping; Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade offers

depictions of the stormy sea; La Mer by Debussy (while technically entitled “three symphonic

sketches”) provides a significant amount of nature onomatopoeia suggesting the sounds of wind,

sea and waves; Debussy’s Nocturnes evoke the sounds of nature as well; “The Morning Mood,”

and other movements of Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt suites contain a number of nature references.

Even Richard Strauss used animal onomatopoeia in Don Quixote, Variation II, evoking the

sound of sheep bleating in muted French horns, trumpets and trombones.70

These are just but a few examples of nature onomatopoeia in the tone poems. Even

though the instrumental genre did not see much growth in the 19th c., in regards to the usage of

nature onomatopoeia, one can see a direct influence between the orchestral works and

69 Hector Berlioz, “De l’imitation musicale,” 38. 70 Castelões, 337.

56

composers’ use of colors, on the “atmospheric impressionism” of the violin (or chamber) works

in the 20th and 21st centuries.

In the violin solo and chamber (small chamber ensemble) works, music onomatopoeia

has often gone hand in hand with the development of violin technique. One could imply that this

was the reason why the evolution of technique stagnated during the 19th century (most of its

examples date back to the 17th and early 18th centuries and later the 20th and the 21st centuries).

The sounds imitative of nature often called for technique that could produce something more

depictive in character, so that the onomatopoeia did not have to rely solely on the compositional

devices at hand. This search for a “new” sound, one that did not fit into the regular performance

practices, pushed the limits of technique and allowed for representations of onomatopoeia that

were more authentic. One could successfully dismiss this argument by claiming that in the early

stages of violin technique, all technical development could be deemed major. This is true, but

there is no denying that pieces like Enescu’s Impressions d’Enfance, and Crumb’s Black Angels

and Four Nocturnes pushed violin technique to reach new heights. The current state of violin

technique’s development allowed composers of the 20th and 21st centuries to come up with very

specific demands from the instrument in regards to the effects from nature that they wanted

portrayed. The unconventional and innovative approaches to the instrument that might not

necessarily be considered idiomatic allowed an enrichment of the technical vocabulary and

appearance of extended techniques that might not have been considered possible by a classically

trained violinist. This experimental attitude, employed by composers and a number of

performers, kept the technical possibilities of the violin open and pushed its boundaries to the

point where the instrument became a palette of colors, mixed and ready to be applied to the

musical canvas.

57

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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

EDUCATION

Doctoral assistant at FSU (2015-2018); Dr. Ben Sung’s studio

Masters student and graduate assistant at SIU (2012-2015)

Undergrad at Northwestern State University with Summa Cum Laude Honors (2009-2012)

ORCHESTRAL EXPERIENCE

FSU Symphony Orchestra co-concertmaster, 2017/2018

FSU opera orchestra concertmaster, Fall 2015 and 2017

Brevard Music Center Orchestra, assistant concertmaster for two concerts (assistant to David

Coucheron and David Kim), Summer 2017

Brevard Sinfonia, concertmaster for two performances, Summer 2017

Northwest Florida Symphony Orchestra (concertmaster for The Nutcracker performances Nov,

2016, 2017)

Tallahassee Symphony Orchestra, section

Sinfonia Gulf Coast, section

Illinois Symphony Orchestra, substitute

Arkansas Symphony Orchestra, substitute

Shreveport Symphony Orchestra, substitute

Texarkana Symphony Orchestra, section violin

South Arkansas Symphony Orchestra, section violin

Northwestern State University Symphony Orchestra, concertmaster

Southern Illinois University Symphony Orchestra, concertmaster

SUMMER FESTIVALS

Brevard Music Festival (2017), concertmaster studio

Lessons with: William Preucil, David Coucheron and David Kim

MASTER CLASSES with: David Kim (2015), Gil Shaham (2015)

62

CHAMBER MUSIC EXPERIENCE

Northwestern State University Chamber Orchestra, concertmaster

SIU Graduate String Quartet and a recipient of the Southern Illinois Chamber Music Society

Scholarship

AWARDS

The winner of the SIU’s Concerto Competition 2013

The winner of The Natchitoches-Northwestern Symphony’s Concerto/Aria Competition

2009, 2011

Alice L. Pipes Award for Excellence in Music Performance April 27, 2011

The McCutcheon Honors Recital February 23, 2010

Alice Dear Scholarship 2009-2012

The carrier of numerous awards in annual Montenegrin National Competitions 2000-2008

ADDITIONAL

Adjudicated for the undergrad entrance committee at FSU (Spring, 2016 and 2017)

Educational outreach with the Rosemary Beach Foundation (Nov, 2016)