The blog's new subtitle

Today's post is no. 250. In celebration, I have added a descriptive subtitle to the blog's banner.
[I removed it again in June but have left the post as is.]

I made the assertion contained in the subtitle in connection with the waltz ninth. The post (link) was the last (before a postscript) in the "JMT Notes" series; a post announcing an essay gathered from the series is here: link.

It is worth reproducing my comment on the waltz ninth, with its related graphic:

"Neumeyer ([JMT] 1987) . . . considers G [as ^6 in Bb major] to be an ascending passing tone rather than an upper neighbor. According to his interpretation, the G and A at the end of m. 7 [in Beethoven, Op. 22, III] are successive notes in a single voice, even though they both are sustained as part of the dominant ninth harmony over all of mm. 5–7" (Yust 2015, n33). I have written about the "waltz ninth" many times by now. . . . Yust's criticism is the same as the one I've just made with respect to proto-backgrounds and does tend to undermine the registral variant [which I claimed as the Schenkerian solution to the background in this piece]. The waltz ninth is another matter. Nineteenth-century practice is broader--more creative and expressive--than eighteenth-century proscriptions. At (a), the ninth as neighbor note; at (b), the directly resolving ninth, a cliché in the waltz repertoire by no later than 1830. Note that the essential Schenkerian melodic note, C, is nowhere to be seen (or heard) -- in four-part writing of ninth chords, one leaves out the fifth. At (c), the figure that applies to all three "extended" chords: keep the seventh below the newly added top note in ninth, eleventh, and thirteenth chords. At (d), the voice leading for the rising line with waltz ninth, understood as at (e) splitting the ninth in two; the same at (f) in Schenkerian notation.

I hesitated before adding the subtitle insofar as it suggested that the ascending cadence gesture was proper to the nineteenth century, not other eras. That is, of course, incorrect: to date the largest number of rising lines—here defined as those easily understood as lines with focal notes, or as Urlinien—came from John Playford's English Dancing Master and the manuscript collection of contredanses compiled under the direction of Johann Bülow for the Danish court, or from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, respectively. On the other hand, the burden of numbers has been inexorably moving to the nineteenth century—virtually all new "discoveries" have been there, including a large number in the works of Chaminade. I hope to write about these as time goes on.

In addition to fitting nicely with our familiar nostrums about Romantic rebellion against eighteenth-century conventions, etc., putting the focus on the rising line in the nineteenth century aligns well with theorists' revelations about a kind of shadow tonality of hexatonic relations that arise from the exploitation of chromatic mediants.

Reference
Yust, Jason. 2015. "Voice-Leading Transformation and Generative Theories of Tonal Structure." Music Theory Online 21/4: link.

Pecháček, 12 Laendler (1801)

František Martin Pecháček (1763-1816) was a Bohemian violinist, conductor, and composer who spent his professional career in Vienna, mainly as a conductor in the theaters. He was the father of the violin virtuoso Franz Xaver Pecháček.

A prolific composer, Pecháček senior wrote in all contemporary genres, including music for social dance. His 12 Ländler, written for an ensemble unusual in the waltz repertoire—2 clarinets, 2 horns, and bassoon—were published in 1801.

Like Beethoven's Ländler in WoO11 and WoO15, written about the same time, this set provides an excellent example of the Ländler in its traditional form—as distinct from the later keyboard Ländler of Schubert and many other composers in the 1820s, who strove to make the Ländler congenial and specific to the piano, using less common keys with chromatic twists and pianistic registral play, thus blurring the distinction between music for dance and music for recital. A characteristic that Pecháček's 12 Ländler do share with later Ländler is their repetitiousness, a marker of their primary role as music for dance, not for performance.

The texture is uniform throughout all twelve pieces, with the first clarinet leading, the second clarinet playing a parallel melodic part below, the horns providing consistent quarter-note motion with simple figures (though not often in the familiar oompah-oompah version), and the bassoon playing the bass line. I have gathered the parts for the first strain of number 5 into score as an example. Published parts were downloaded from IMSLP.

Though written for clarinet, the melodies are highly violinistic, another reflection of the historical traditions of the Ländler. As a result, the play of register and the marking out of fifth spaces are prominent features. Here is the first strain of n1:

The fifth C5-G5 is defined as the frame of the basic idea (bars 1-2), and a line descends from G5 in the varied basic idea (bars 3-4). In the consequent phrase, the line again descends toward ^3, which is not sounded but easily imagined (and in all likelihood was sometimes improvised). I have written about such "complex lines" here: link. The same third-line and its repetition with the "imagined" E4 occur in the same places in the second strain. This time, however, the upper voice confirms the highest register of bar 1—that is, C6—with what I call the "primitive" ascending Urlinie ^5-^7-^8. (I am not terribly proud of that label, btw, as it privileges line over interval frame, but I have used it for so long now that I may as well continue to do so.)

In n5, G5 dominates (so to speak) and the first strain expresses two complete rising lines in its two phrases. The second strain reuses the figure of n1, but the final bars are a little more complicated in that *three* lines are expressed: the incomplete ascending line, the third-line from G5 (as in n1), and a secondary third-line E4-D4-C4. The last pitch is imagined in the clarinet -- the complete third-line is played by the first horn.

n10: The basic linear figure in the second strain is that of n5, second strain, with the difference that the descent from ^5 is complete (albeit with an imagined ^1). The first strain, however, exaggerates the registral play to open a 13th from E4 to C6, then continue with the more compact B5-D5. In the consequent phrase we hear the final C5 and imagine (easily) the upper C6.

n9: The uppermost registral figure in n10, first strain, is anticipated in n9, where a simple neighbor figure, C6-B5-C6, dominates the first strain. The contrast is substantial with the second strain, which plods along in repeated short descending lines, and not surprisingly then puts out a ^3-^2-^1 frame overall.

In the context of this set, n12 is an anomaly: its first strain is in the relative minor (the second clarinet even plays G#, the only accidental in the entire set), but the second strain is equally firmly in C major. In the repertoire of Ländler and Deutscher Tanz, however, such pairings are not unusual, if also not common. Examples in Schubert include D145ns 5, 8; D365n22; and D779ns7, 22, 31. Here, as in some instances in Schubert, the second strain is essentially a transposed version of the first, with the important exception that the lower ^1 is missing in the final bar, replaced by the upper C6, so that the framing figure is the primitive Urlinie ^5-^7-^8.

Grape Juice Reel

The first track on Frank Ferrell's CD Boston Fiddle: The Dudley Street Tradition (Rounder Records, 1995) is a medley of "Mrs. Hogan's Birthday," "Grape Juice," "Mrs. Hamilton's [Reel]," and "The Wind-up." As of this posting, the CD is still available for purchase in major venues, and the medley can be heard in a youtube audio/video file: link.

It's the second tune that is the topic today. In the liner notes, Ferrell reproduces what I take to be the version he says he "found in one of Tommy [Doucet's] old hand-written dance folios." Two contrasting (that is, motivically largely unrelated) strains of 8 bars each close with PACs in the main key, F major. The first strain is entirely diatonic, whereas the second indulges in some slightly unusual chromaticism: cadence to vi (D minor) in bars 11-12, a fully diminished seventh chord in bar 14, and a chromatic ascent in the cadence.

At (a), the violinistic frame of the fifth is established, at (b) it is expanded in both directions: from C5 to F5 upward and F4 to C4 downwards (arrows). At (c), the common one-too-far gesture reaches A5. At (d), the three unfolded thirds that follow from this. At (e), the consequent phrase begins; at (f), the closing figure: ^8-^7-^9-^8, as F5-E5-G5-F5; at (g) the "boundary play" of the upper thirds.

In the second strain, a "mirror Urlinie" where ^8 descends to ^5 -- line from (a) -- then ascends again to close -- line at (b). In both instances, the chromatic figures sit between ^5 and ^6.

JMT series, part 7-1b

Willliam Rothstein, writing about Corelli -- but not the sonata whose prelude was the topic of the previous post -- does not consider registral shifts, but he does mention the related matter of the "descant" voice:

[David] Neumeyer has made an elegant case for the viability of a "three-part Ursatz with an "ascending Urlinie" but some questions remain. The minor mode, for example, is obviously less conducive to such a structure than the major. . . . Then there is the question of the relative hierarchical status of the two upper voices. I have assumed here, based largely on my own intuitions, that in a three-voice counterpoint of this sort the descending linear progression is hierarchically superior to the ascending one, even when the ascending progression lies above; that is why I have referred to the latter progression in such cases as a "descant." I suspect that this is consistently true in Corelli's music, and that it remains true in most music by other composers. But there are surely exceptions. To consider an extreme example, if Beethoven's C major Bagatelle Op. 119, No. 7, is not based on an ascending Urlinie, what music is? 

I'll answer his final question in a separate post (hint: Op. 119n7 isn't, but that just makes everything more complicated, and from a hermeneutical standpoint more interesting, doesn't it?)

To the problem of the rising line as "descant" voice, that's been an issue from the beginning in what I will call the positive style of critique of the ascending Urlinie (the negative style just rejects the rising line out of hand). In one of the essays published on Texas Scholar Works (link), I write about the "descant" voice and the process by which it overcame a subsidiary role to become a primary figure in some compositions and should be treated as such in analysis intended to be both musically and historically sensitive. Here is a link to a blog post that quotes from the essay and shows a few early examples.

Perhaps the most important point to make is that the process was largely finished by the end of the 16th century, in the last moments of the long-running change from priority to tenor to priority to bass (solidified--not invented--in the adoption of the basso continuo). Associated mainly -- though by no means exclusively (link) -- with dance-songs and music associated with improvisatory practices in the 17th and 18th centuries, ascending cadence gestures seem to have been suppressed somewhat in more formal musics by the clichéd figures of the partimento tradition. Once that tradition died out in the early 19th century, ascending cadence gestures gradually became more common.

Reference:
Rothstein, William. 2006. "Transformations of Cadential Formulae in the Music of Corelli and His Successors." In Essays from the Third International Schenker Symposium, edited by Allen Cadwallader, 245-278.

JMT series, part 5b (notes 29 & 30)

The second post on notes 29 & 30:

n30: ^5-^6-(^5)^7-^8: Winterreise, no. 2, “Die Wetterfahne.” No comment in the note.  The piano opens a large space of a compound fifth in the introduction ("geschwind, unruhig"), but the voice constrains its opening phrase by sequence, so that a line rises from ^3 to ^5 (beamed).

The sudden turn to the parallel major in the verse cadence is sarcastic, as his former lover "ist eine reiche Braut" ["a rich bride'].

The final cadence of the song amps up the cry of despair with a strong sequence but odd chord progression -- first system below -- then drops back into the "reiche Braut" figure to end. In the 1987 article I enclosed the second ^5 in parentheses, and have repeated that below, but nowadays I am more inclined to accept the "primitive rising line" and so would probably read the ending as ^5  (^#6 ^5)  ^#7  ^8.

JMT series, part 5a (notes 29 & 30)

In previous posts for this series I looked at pieces mentioned in my 1987 JMT article, note 28. Here are notes 29 and 30, on Urlinie variants.

n29: ^5-^6-(^8)-^7-^8 model or one of its variants:

Haydn, String Quartet, op. 76, no. 2, II. I have written at length about this piece here: link to post.

Handel, Jephtha, aria “Waft her angels.” Comment in the note: "orchestra in the framing ritornello, not the voice." The voice does participate -- see (d) in the example below -- and rising figures are certainly strong throughout, but in the abstract Schenkerian terms, all these are affect, "text painting," and the like, not structural. Nowadays I'm not so sure "structural" is enough.

The closing cadence in A. The strong ascent at (a) is derived from the opening ritornello, (c), but the closing cadence is a descending formula, at (b).

After the voice finishes, the orchestra doesn't give up on the rising line, managing it twice in just four bars.

Note n30: ^5-^6-(^5)-^7-^8.

Schubert, Drei deutsche Tänze, D973n2. In 1987, I was trying to avoid the primitive Urlinie (^5-^7-^8), but now I think it would work just as well -- mechanically, at least. I prefer the reading that emphasizes ^6 because of the expressive attention given to that note and its supporting harmony.

In tomorrow's post: Winterreise, no. 2, “Die Wetterfahne.”

Napthali Wagner on Sgt. Pepper

Naphtali Wagner's chapter on Sgt. Pepper (see citation at the end of this post) includes a reading of "She's Leaving Home" based on an ascending Urlinie. A large portion of the chapter can be found on the Google Books page: link.

The chapter is about the varying combinations of classical and contemporary popular elements in the songs of the Beatles' album Sgt. Pepper. Of the songs discussed, "She's Leaving Home" is described as "the most classical" and is said (therefore?) to be "to a large extent Schenkerable" (82). But that Schenkerability (!) is conditioned on an ascending Urlinie and on an interruption of that Urlinie: see Wagner's Example 6a & 6b (81; here without the caption and with added letter labels).

I wrote about the possibility of interruption and division in the 1987 JMT article, defining two accessible types (see example below; 293) and suggesting others.

In addition to the two division classes given above, others might be proposed; for example, ^5-^6-^7 || ^5-^6-^7-^8, ^5-^6-^7-^8-^9 (=^2) || ^5-^6-^7-^8, or even ^5-^6-^7 || ^5-^4-^3-^2-^1, and so on. I do not suggest these as practical possibilities, but only because I have found no compositions to which they unequivocally provide the best solution for the first middleground. (296)

In his example (a), Wagner reads "She's Leaving Home" based on the first of the additional figures—^5-^6-^7 || ^5-^6-^7-^8—but notes that the song actually uses a "twisted realization" of that figure (see his example (b) above). The relation of this strategy to the lyrics is explained succinctly as follows:

“She's Leaving Home” is full of ambivalent situations that evoke conflicting feelings: harmonic and contrapuntal retreat, internal motion within a static block of harmony and a distorted superstructure. . . . The ambiguous musical environment is amazingly appropriate for the ambivalence that emerges from the text: the scenario is dawn twilight, no longer night but not yet really day; mixed feelings (the girl's sense of liberation mixed with extreme distress; the parents' discomfiture. . . ). These are threshold states that are easily assimilated to the psychedelic concept of the album. . . . However, the classical framework encompassing all these occurrences is not in doubt. (83)

Here is the detailed analysis (81; here without the caption and the underlain lyrics):

If examples (a) and (b) above were offered as conceptual layers of, say, a movement in a Mahler symphony, I would be very skeptical of the abstractions, but in a strophic song like this and in this repertoire (mid-century popular song), I find the reading entirely convincing.

Reference: Naphtali Wagner. 2008. "The Beatles' psycheclassical synthesis: psychedelic classicism and classical psychedelia in Sgt. Pepper." In Sgt. Pepper and the Beatles It Was Forty Years Ago Today, edited by Olivier Julien, pp. 75-90. Aldershot/Burlington: Ashgate.

Prokofiev, Classical Symphony, Gavotte

The third movement in Prokofiev's Classical Symphony (1917) is a very compact—and comically heavy-footed—gavotte with a musette trio. Here is the piano reduction of the gavotte itself only:

In this rough reduction sketch, note the inverted arch shapes, short in section A, longer and covering all of section B. The detailed harmonic analysis reflects the importance to the piece's expression of its deceptive progressions and sudden shifts.

A formal Schenker graph bases the opening on the frame ^3-^5, with ^5 appearing first and, as it turns out, remaining primary throughout. The simple ascent is complicated by the C# major displacement with a G# bass -- see the reduction above for details. Since everything is moved down a half-step (from D to C# major), what "should be" ^5 (A5) is now ^5 (G#5). Three notes are affected that way -- I've marked them with asterisks.

As the graph shows, in section B, the lower voice F# moves about neighbors. The orchestral score confirms the meandering of F# about E-E# and G -- see the circled notes in the clarinets, horns, and (at the end) second violins. A particularly pleasing detail is the "piccolo" height ^7-^8 in the flute -- boxed.

Costa Nogueras, from 12 Composiciones musicales (1881), continued

In the previous post, I commented on the first three numbers in the 12 Composiciones musicales (1881) by Vicente Costa Nogueras. Today I look at the last three, a Fantasia-Impromptu (n10),  a waltz "Arlequin" (n11), and a March (n12).

The Fantasia-Impromptu is a larger scale piece in a ternary form with a strongly contrasting middle section (Allegro giocoso in the outer sections, Andante Cantabile in the middle one). After a six-bar introduction, the principal theme enters in a double period in which both units end on the dominant. Here is the first:

After a contrasting middle of 19 bars, the theme returns, though now the second unit is entirely new -- but once again ends on the dominant):

Now this unit is repeated, finally closing the A-section in the tonic and introducing a transparent ascent from ^5 to ^8 in the cadence.

All this is repeated at the end of the piece, and a brief rousing coda follows:

Arlequin (n11) is a conventionally designed waltz set with a short introduction, four waltzes, and a coda that quotes the first waltz. It is unusual in the progression of keys: F-Bb-Eb-Ab and a return to F through a quick modulation in the coda.

The first strain of waltz n1 gives a prominent place to ^3 (A5) in the first unit, but the second runs a line directly from ^5 over a typical TSDT functional progression.

The second strain (trio) of n2 leaves little doubt about its attention to ^5, and ^6 as its neighbor.

The March (n12) that closes the collection is a straighforward example of the "mirror Urlinie" from ^8 down to ^5 and then back up again in the cadence.

Minor key series, part 13 (partimento)

This post is the second about partimenti by Francesco Durante. Here was the first one: link.

The progressions I used in the earlier post were short formulas; this is an entire binary-form composition of more than 50 bars. There are four elements: A1, bars 1-15, PAC in E minor; A2, bars 16-28, PAC in E minor; B1, bars 29-42, PAC in A minor; B2, bars 43-54, PAC in A minor.  Here it is on the Monuments of Partimenti website, among a rather large number of examples with first inversion seventh chords (6/5s): link.

In the first section, it is easy to hear a middleground upper voice descending from ^5, interrupted in the cadence:

For my detailed example, I will use the final section (B2, bars 43-54). An almost entirely stepwise melodic line comfortably fits Durante's bass, although I took one liberty in assuming iv6 rather than VI in bar 50:

And that same line can as easily be "re-routed" at the end to achieve a rising line. The only additional digression from Durante's figures is critical, however: F5 becomes F# at the end of bar 51. I don't regard this as an obstacle, as (assuming the transcription is correct) the figures in the partimento are obviously incomplete: the student experienced enough to realize this piece effectively would surely also have the ability to make (presumably small) adjustments in improvisation/performance.

Here are the final five measures realized in three voices.

At first glance, an incomplete line (or what I have elsewhere called a "primitive line") fits with the bass of figure g (that is, i-i6-iiø6/5-V-i), but neither i6 nor iiø6/5 support a tone at the same level as the others.

A better, musically more satisfying solution gives due prominence to the subdominant in both its minor and major forms. Underlying this is a simpler variant of figure b (with IV, not IV followed by ii).

Minor key series, part 12 (Beethoven)

Beethoven's 32 Variations in C minor, WoO80, were composed in 1806 and published in 1807. The lack of an opus number might be related to the composer's rejection of the work later in his life. Certainly, its evocation of the Baroque chromatic chaconne bass and continuous variation design seems out of place among the large-scale, heroic music of Beethoven's middle period (he also wrote the Third Symphony and the Violin Concerto in 1806, for example). And not only is WoO80 rather old-fashioned for the first decade of the 19th century, but it also is not up to the standard of the "Eroica" variations written earlier (1802) or the Diabelli Variations written much later (1819/1823).

To the point here, the theme offers an obvious opportunity for a rising line in the minor, an opportunity that Beethoven does not exploit, however, as we shall see below. There is one rising line among the 32 variations, but it is in the maggiore variation 14.

The chromatic chaconne bass in bars 1-6 moves against a rising line in the right hand, the overall result being to move both bass and melody from ^1 to ^5, but of course in opposite directions. The wedge goes one step further in the sforzando subdominant chord but then the simple octaves fall sharply (and quietly). The potential for a variant of an ascending Urlinie, however, is introduced by that subdominant chord -- I have marked how it might be realized in scale degrees. As it stands, the clearest implicit figure is a displaced neighbor G5-Ab5-G4 (bars 6 and 7).

In the variations, Beethoven makes much of the dramatic contrast between the first six bars and the cadence. Since he includes the rise-and-fall gesture in many cases, the clear expression of a rising line is not possible. Variation 5 is typical. The arrows at (a) chart the wedge in the melody, which does reach ^6, but then the convoluted drop-off leaves one assuming an implied completion of the neighbor figure, so, G6-Ab6-(G6).

The primary impediment to an ascending Urlinie in the variations is Beethoven's abandonment of the subdominant supporting ^6 for an expanded dominant, as in Variation 6, where bars 6-7 are a dominant seventh or ninth.

Variation 12 is the first of five maggiore variations. The arrow points to the sixth scale degree that ought to make a continued ascent in the cadence easy to manage.

Variation 14, finally, does realize a rising line. An initial ascent brings ^3 (at "x") up to ^5 (at "y"). A first attempt at the line from ^5 to ^8 follows (see "z"), and bars 7-8 do the work with clarity and resolve (thus, ^5 in bar 3 moves to ^6 in bar 7 and the line then finishes the ascent).

Minor key series, part 11 (progressions k-n)

Here are examples of more complex ascending figures, this time shown in four part textures. All of these are hypothetical in the sense that, although they are possible "mechanically," I have not yet found examples in the repertoire.

In figures k and l, the melodic line is completely chromatic. The underlying harmony in figure k is relatively simple, in figure l rather less so.

Figures m and n are variants of the fully chromatic line. In figure m, the chromatic ascent is interrupted for the sake of introducing a cadential 6/4 chord. Figure n varies figure k but at the cost of undermining the fully chromatic line (the first five chords prolong i and support a neighbor-note figure, ^5-^6-^5).

Minor key series, part 8b (Bacquoy-Guedon, LeRoux, Böhm)

Alexis Bacquoy-Guedon published a dance treatise in the 1780s. I have written about his musical examples before, on my dance music blog: link; and also twice on this blog: link, link,

The last of the posts linked to above shows his 4th Menuet in G major, with its trio, which is the item of interest here.

The underlying figure g (simple ascent with ^#6 and i-IV-V-i) is revealed by adding a likely bass below the Urlinie:

I discussed a two-harpsichord gigue and a courante with an added contra partie by Gaspard LeRoux in the continuation post of part 3: link. Here is another piece from the same collection (1705), this time a sarabande with 11 variations. To avoid confusion in case you look at the score yourself, I will follow the numbering Fuller uses, where the sarabande (theme) is called couplet 1, the first variation couplet 2, etc. (The 1705 edition has no labels.)

In one common French design for a published suite, a larger scale piece, usually a chaconne, ends the suite of dances and character pieces. Here the design is almost that: (unmeasured) Prelude, Allemande, Courante, "La Bel-abat," Piece sans titre, Gigue, Sarabande [with variations], Menuet. As elsewhere in the collection, the sarabande itself is provided with an alternative trio arrangement, but the variations are given just a continuo bass. I am uncertain what that signifies for an actual performance option.

The first phrase of the sarabande is reproduced below in Alfred Fuller's edition. I will not cite any more of it in order to respect copyright. In the 1705 edition, however, the left hand part is written in baritone clef (like the bass clef but a third higher), and so I will present the alternate trio version of the theme instead.

The six phrases of the theme are distributed in the common asymmetrical design where A has two and B has the other 4. Section A ends in III, and midway through section B we reach V in a half cadence. What is remarkable is that in the solo version, Le Roux uses the dully repetitive figure of the first treble part in the entire B-section, not the considerably more interesting melody of the second treble part.

Phrases 5 & 6 in couplet 2 (that is, the first variation) are shown below. I have "transposed" the left hand part to the common bass clef. The cadence in the upper register is striking, but from a traditional Schenkerian viewpoint, we have to call the uppermost voice boundary play growing out of two cover tones--see the graph below the score.

Four other couplets use rising lines, three of them at the end, as in couplet 2 above. In couplet 6, almost continuous 16th-note arpeggios in the right hand are all set in the upper octave. In couplets 4 & 10, a clear descending cadence is placed in phrase 5, to which the upper octave in phrase 6 sounds like a coda flourish. The most interesting use of the rising line is the opening, not the end, of couplet 2 -- see below, where phrases 1 & 2 chart the octave from Bb4 to Bb5, step by step. (Note that I have not moved the left hand to bass clef this time.)   Below the score I have marked the sources of all these steps in the trio version of the sarabande theme, demonstrating again Le Roux's quite free attitude toward his theme (these are *not* simple figural variations).

The last example comes from one of the many German composers who imitated French keyboard styles and genres in the 17th and early 18th centuries: Georg Böhm, whose Suite in F minor contains a courante with an ascending Urlinie. Volume 1 of the Sämtliche Werke edition (published in 1952) includes eleven suites, two of them in F minor. This courante is from the second of those suites. Note that it uses the Dorian signature (three flats rather than the four we would expect for F minor).

Here is an analysis showing the background..

Finally, a background/first middleground graph, with the inner voice. I chose to show the bass for i6 with a closed note rather than an open note, but the outline of figure g is still clear.