Concluding comment on Die Fledermaus

The number of ascending cadential gestures in Die Fledermaus is substantial. Certainly there are many more than one would expect in the waltz sets of Johann Strauss, jr., where he tends to be conservative in the cadences (apart, of course, from the characteristic figures of the waltz repertoire). On the other hand, significant ascending motives and cadences are very typical of the opera bouffe and operetta repertoires. Clearly Strauss knew and responded to those genre-based opportunities.

 In the introduction to this series, I wrote that—in addition to continuing documentation of rising cadential figures—I wanted "to put more emphasis on the expressive and dramatic functions of ascending cadence gestures in texted works. My method is quite simple: for each song or number I will ask the question, Why does an ascending melodic figure dominate the cadence(s) and not the clichéd falling version inherited from 18th century practice?"

As will be obvious if you have read earlier posts, I didn't follow through on that plan. After n2—the trio for Rosalinde, Eisenstein, and Blind—I largely gave up. I did manage these observations there: [link to the post]

In this case, (1) the focus on the upper edge of the register in the main phrase (bars 1-5 above); (2) the repetitions of the pick-up chromatic ascending figure (bars 9-12), which invite continuation in the same direction (bars 12-13); (3) the more and more peremptory "hinaus" (get out!) (bars 12-13); (4) the exaggerated melodramatic humor in the subverted tonic at the end, as Rosalinde hits and holds her high note. 

The Vivace [ending] is a typical operatic ensemble close, whose simple harmonic progressions and repetitious figures are similar to "one more time" passages in Classical-period instrumental codas. After waltzes and polkas, these ensemble endings are the most frequent source of rising cadence gestures in 19th century music.

Perhaps  Die Fledermaus wasn't the best subject for an inquiry like this, if the goal is to make fine distinctions (why rising in this aria, falling in that?). Almost all of its songs and ensemble pieces are dance-based, with particular emphasis on the waltz and polka. By 1850 at the latest, the endings of songs, but especially ensemble pieces and finales, generally favored rousing high-register gestures. Thus, the answer to my question is simple: genre expectations assumed the possibility of significant ascending motives and cadences.

I would like to be able to claim the following, as well, but I will do no more than hint for now. A study now underway of songs by Cécile Chaminade and Hugo Wolf will, I hope, offer some insights.

Such genre expectations also made it easier to experiment with ascending figures and cadences in relation to mood or affect: instead of the typical falling line for slow-tempo melancholy, a rising conclusion could signal an existentially charged sighing regret, nostalgia, or utopian feeling. In a faster tempo, a falling cadential line could more easily signal assertion, firmness, or resolve when understood as balanced against the option of the lighter, brighter quality of an ascending line. 

Strauss, Die Fledermaus, n2 Trio

The second musical number in Die Fledermaus is a trio for Rosalinde, Eisenstein, and Blind. It opens with a comic Allegro in 2/4: Eisenstein is about to be jailed for insulting an official, and he berates his lawyer (Blind) for failing to defend him. Eisenstein's wife Rosalinde finally intervenes, telling Blind that he ought to leave. This is the first occasion for a rising cadence gesture, quite emphatic even if the harmonic rug is pulled out from under it in the final chord:

In the introductory post to this series, I wrote that, for each number in Fledermaus, I would ask the question "Why does an ascending melodic figure dominate the cadence(s) and not the clichéd falling version inherited from 18th century practice?" In this case, (1) the focus on the upper edge of the register in the main phrase (bars 1-5 above); (2) the repetitions of the pick-up chromatic ascending figure (bars 9-12), which invite continuation in the same direction (bars 12-13); (3) the more and more peremptory "hinaus" (get out!) (bars 12-13); (4) the exaggerated melodramatic humor in the subverted tonic at the end, as Rosalinde hits and holds her high note.

Rosalinde and Eisenstein discuss the situation (Andante mosso, in the style of accompanied recitative) but then Blind returns and the comic Allegro resumes, shortly turning into catalogue patter as Blind lists all his legal skills (un poco agitato). The music builds in energy till it explodes in a Vivace finale with the three singing over each other. The figure—in Rosalinde's part—is a mirror line from ^8 down to ^5 and back again, here with a dramatic superimposed ^9.

The Vivace is a typical operatic ensemble close, whose simple harmonic progressions and repetitious figures are similar to "one more time" passages in Classical-period instrumental codas. After waltzes and polkas, these ensemble endings are the most frequent source of rising cadence gestures in 19th century music.

Michael Pamer, Neue brillante Ländler, vol. 10 (1827), part 1

Michael Pamer was a band leader and skilled violinist who is widely acknowledged as a principal influence on the professional dance musicians of Schubert’s generation, in particular on Josef Lanner and Johann Strauss, sr., who effectively apprenticed under Pamer. Born in 1782, Pamer died in 1827, the year that the twelve volumes of his Neue brillante Ländler were published. The title page, below, is translated: New brilliant solo Ländler for the violin with ad libitum accompaniment of a second violin and bass, composed and presented for use in house balls by Michael Pamer, music-director of the Saale zur Schwan in the Rossau [district of Vienna]. The design of the volumes is distinctive: each has two sets of six Ländler in the same key, for which the same accompaniment is supplied, so that the six Ländler are much like variations of each other.

In the two parts of this post, we will look at the six Ländler in the first group of volume 10.

                                          

I am beginning at the end, with ns 5 & 6, because they have clear rising cadence figures. So does n3 (in part 2 of this post series), but the others have mostly open cadences without rising figures. Given the format Pamer has adopted, it is not surprising that ns 5 & 6 have very nearly the same underlying figures: a rising line with accented elements in the first phrase (beamed notes), repeated in the second phrase, and a "one-too-far" flourish that pushes the line up to ^3 (as B5) in bar 4 (circled notes). In n5, note that Pamer has inserted an embellishing flourish (circled C6 in bar3) that makes a nice covering connection to B5 in bar 4.

The second strains of the two numbers differ slightly in that n5 gives—if possible—even more attention to D5 and brings the line up in a quick run, as it did in the first strain, where n6 makes more of the upper register, unfolding D5 to D6 and generating a strong open cadence that implies in the last bar the B5 we heard literally a few bars earlier. The two lines are thus balanced, the cadence open, the lower voice a primitive rising line, ^5-^7-^8.

In Pamer's edition, the second violin and bass parts are placed at the bottom of a tall page, after all six Ländler in each group. I have assembled a score version of n5 below. This is just for reference, as I don't think it tells us anything new about the design or shapes of the violin melody.

New essay published

My essay Rising Gestures, Text Expression, and the Background as Theme has been published on the Texas Scholar Works platform: link. Here is the abstract:

Walter Everett's categories for tonal design features in nineteenth-century songs fit the framework of the Classic/Romantic dichotomy: eighteenth-century practice is the benchmark for progressive but conflicted alternatives. These categories are analogous to themes in literary interpretation; so understood, they suggest a broader range of options for the content of the background than the three Schenkerian Urlinien regarded as essentialized universals. The analysis of a Brahms song, "Über die See," Op. 69/7, provides a case study in one type, the rising line, and also the entry point for a critique of Everett's reliance on a self- contradictory attitude toward the Schenkerian historical narrative.

On the clausula vera (3-1 or 6-8)

The articulation of cadences in sixteenth-century European music relied on the formula of third to unison intervals (if the parts are flipped, then it's sixth to octave). In each example just the beginning of a phrase in two voices is shown, followed by the cadence.

Here is an example from literally thousands of pieces showing the treatment of these figures. This is the fifth of Thomas Morley's Duets for Two Viols. In the opening phrase (mm. 1-5), a sixth (marked in m. 4) "prepares" a suspension dissonance that resolves into the 6 of the cadence: asterisks mark the 6-8. In the second phrase, similarly, a third D-F "prepares" a 2-3 bass suspension and the cadential 3-1 follows (note that the lower notated voice is actually higher in pitch at this point).

And here are the final two phrases, in which the cadence types are reversed: 3-1 first, then 6-8. Again note that the second cadence has the lower notated voice higher in pitch. Indeed, it is one of the uncommon instances of a rising cadential figure in notated ("art") music in the centuries before 1800.

Far more common in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries is to bring a string of parallel sixths down, often with suspensions, toward the 6-8. The example below is from the fifth of the texted bicinia (sometimes called "duets") of Lassus. Four sixth intervals in a row, three with suspensions, make for an inexorable drop to the cadence, and it is only the sudden turn to the final octave that stops the progression (and is a big part of the expressive and formal point).