Musical expressivity is intimately associated with subtle dynamic changes--slight variations in volume between one note and the next--which help shape and make meaningful the phrases. Daniel Gottlob Turk was among the few theorists who recognized and described this subtlety

Jackson, Roland

Keck Graduate Institute

Performance Practice Review
Volume 8
Number 1 Spring Article 2
Performance Practice and Musical Expressivity
Roland Jackson
Follow this and additional works at: http://scholarship.claremont.edu/ppr
Part of the Music Practice Commons
This Editorial is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals at Claremont at Scholarship @ Claremont. It has been accepted for inclusion in
Performance Practice Review by an authorized administrator of Scholarship @ Claremont. For more information, please contact
scholarship@cuc.claremont.edu.
Jackson, Roland (1995) "Performance Practice and Musical Expressivity," Performance Practice Review: Vol. 8: No. 1, Article 2. DOI:
10.5642/perfpr.199508.01.02
Available at: http://scholarship.claremont.edu/ppr/vol8/iss1/2
Editorial
Performance Practice and Musical Expressivity
Roland Jackson
During a recent Nova television broadcast (What is Music?),1 a thought-
evoking exchange took place regarding the question "what constitutes mu-
sical expressivity?" To help toward an answer pianist Malcolm Bilson was
asked to play two musical excerpts (one by Mozart, one by Brahms), at first
with musical expressivity and then without it. It was supposed that a com-
parison—observing what was present in the first, while lacking in the se-
cond—would afford a means of determining what made the first (in each
case) musically expressive.
The director of the experiment, psychologist Caroline Palmer (Cornell Uni-
versity), while acknowledging that various factors may have been involved,
singled out one that she believed to be primary: subtle rhythmic change (a
melody out of synch, a minute elongation or contraction, a slight shift of
movement). This kind of alteration, present in the initial performances (of
Mozart and of Brahms), but conspicuously absent in the more rigid or me-
chanical second performances, was suggested as providing a special key to
the nature of musical expressivity. It became apparent that what Ms. Palmer
1 Nova: What is Music? Available on Films for the Humanities (Princeton, 1993).
2 Roland Jackson
was alluding to was an aspect of expression frequently described in musical
writings, namely the kind of rubato known as "melodic" or "contrametric".2
At the same time, another element of expressivity was equally prominent in
Mr. Bilson's performances, the presence (in his first versions) of slight
variances of dynamic level as he proceeded from one note (or chord) to the
next. Such changes, introduced spontaneously, went beyond any markings
present in the musical scores. And although unnotated, they contributed
substantially to the shaping of the melodic contours and harmonic succes-
sions.
These changes seem to belong to something intrinsic in musical expression,
and have very likely always played an essential role in it. Composers in the
past have taken such shadings for granted, so much so that they have not
found it necessary (or even possible) to indicate them, while theorists and
writers on music have subsumed them under the general concept of "taste"
(bon go&t). Because of this it is difficult to find much verification of their
existence in past music or musical performance.
One writer, however, did exceptionally make reference to dynamic varian-
ces of this kind (from note to note, from chord to chord). This was Daniel
Gottlob Turk, in 1789, who spoke at length about dynamics, not only in a
larger sense (within entire works, within entire sections), but also as it ap-
plied to individual tones,3 the very quality noted above as being so com-
municative in Mr. Bilson's playing.
Turk emphasized the need for playing with just the right degree of volume,
not only in works as a whole or in sections, but (very significantly) in the in-
dividual tones of a musical continuity.
It is equally important to determine exactly the required heaviness or
^ See, for example, Sandra P. Rosenblum, "The Uses of Rubato in Music, Eighteenth
to Twentieth Centuries," Performance Practice Review 7 (1994), 33-53.
3
 Daniel Gottlob Tlirk, Klavierschute (Leipzig and Halle, 1789). For TUrk, a proper
tempo, a clear staccato and legato, and dynamic gradations constituted the three most essential
components of musical expressivity (p. 348). In the section of his book devoted to dynamics
(pp. 348-53) he set forth in detail how essential differences of volume were in establishing the
overall character of a work, in distinguishing clearly between the individual sections of a
work, and in pointing up certain dissonant sonorities or sudden modulations.
Performance Practice and Musical Expression 3
lightness of execution at all times and in every individual place or tone.
[italics mine]
As for the dynamics that affected these note successions, certain tones, in
Turk's estimation, called for a more forceful execution than did the remain-
ing ones.
Above all, individual tones {bold in original] of importance need
to be presented more emphatically than the others.
Furthermore, he pointed to the difficulty, nay the impossibility, of designat-
ing precisely such minute nuances within a musical score. Moreover, they
were something a listener could only gain awareness of through refined and
discriminate listening.
How profusely, however, these words \forte and piano] would need to be
added if every single note requiring a particular shading had to be so de-
signated.
Certain refinements of expression cannot be described, they can only be
heard.7
This manner of playing, then, in which successive tones are subtly varie-
gated in their volume, lay, for Turk, at the heart of musical expressivity. At
the same time it was something that could only be attained through each
performer's innate sensitivity and individual discretion.
* ". . . eben so unmoglich ist es, den erforderlichen schwerern oder leichtem Vortrag
jedesmal, and bey alien einzelnen Stellen oder Tonen, genau zu bestimmen." (p. 353)
5
 "Oberhaupt mlissen sogar einzelne Tone von Bedeutung nachdrilcklicher angegeben
werden als die tlbrigen." (p. 350)
° '. . . wie uberhauft wurden aber diese Wone beygefugt werden mUssen, wenn jede
einzelne Note, welche eine besondere Schattining veriangt, damit bezeichnet werden sollte."
(p. 348)
' " . . . gewisse Feinheiten im Ausdrucke lassen sich schlechterdings nicht beschreiben;
sie wollen geh&rt seyn." (p. 348)
4 Roland Jackson
In a recent New York Times column Richard Taruskin characterized histo-
rical (or early music) performance as being embarked upon "a drift toward
uniformity, and (by implication) dullness."8 In the view of a number of crit-
ics (according to Taruskin) ". . . guiltless performances [i.e. without any
deviation from the criteria of performance practice], . . . are ideally alike."
In other words, by the very process of returning to the original manner of
realizing a work, historical performances begin to lose all distinctiveness,
and performers any claim to individuality.
There is, to be sure, an element of truth in this. For a certain sameness
would seem appropriate and even essential if performance practice is to
achieve anything approaching a true historical reenactment, or being at one
with the mind of a composer. But it remains questionable that this will ne-
cessarily lead to "dullness." If we consider a parallel in the visual arts, any
great painting or sculpture necessarily remains "the same" for each viewer.
Yet such art works by no means become tedious or boring because of this.
Similarly in music, the restoring of a work to its original manner of
performance need not have the effect of making the work wearisome. On
the contrary, as has been experienced in numerous recent performances,
musical works, by virtue of being played more nearly as they were initially,
take on surprising and unexpected qualities that we were scarcely aware of
before. And by directing the attention more entirely to the musical work and
its intrinsic properties, rather than being beguiled by the subjective aspects
of this or that interpretation, a musical listener will become more akin to the
discerning observer of a visual art work.
But despite all this, certain differences will inevitably remain between one
musical rendition and another. This is where the unnotated and unmarked
qualities, rhythmic or dynamic (spoken of above), come into play. They
have the effect of lending each performance a unique and individual expres-
sivity. Composers throughout history have unfailingly been drawn to certain
musical performers over others, not simply because they more faithfully
executed their notes or markings, but because they possessed a special
sensitivity, this being displayed primarily through the subtle nuances of their
renditions. If in the past such sensitivity was the main quality that set apart
one performer from another, this remains just as true today, whether in the
standard concert world or in the world of "historical" performance.
8
 Richard Taruskin, "Why Do They All Hate Horowitz," New York Times. Sunday
Classical Musical Recordings View, Nov. 28,1993.


English

Performance Practice and Musical Expressivity

Scholarship@Claremont

Performance Practice ReviewVolume 8Number 1 Spring Article 2Performance Practice and Musical ExpressivityRoland JacksonFollow this and additional works at: http://scholarship.claremont.edu/pprPart of the Music Practice CommonsThis Editorial is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals at Claremont at Scholarship @ Claremont. It has been accepted for inclusion inPerformance Practice Review by an authorized administrator of Scholarship @ Claremont. For more information, please contactscholarship@cuc.claremont.edu.Jackson, Roland (1995) "Performance Practice and Musical Expressivity," Performance Practice Review: Vol. 8: No. 1, Article 2. DOI:10.5642/perfpr.199508.01.02Available at: http://scholarship.claremont.edu/ppr/vol8/iss1/2EditorialPerformance Practice and Musical ExpressivityRoland JacksonDuring a recent Nova television broadcast (What is Music?),1 a thought-evoking exchange took place regarding the question "what constitutes mu-sical expressivity?" To help toward an answer pianist Malcolm Bilson wasasked to play two musical excerpts (one by Mozart, one by Brahms), at firstwith musical expressivity and then without it. It was supposed that a com-parison—observing what was present in the first, while lacking in the se-cond—would afford a means of determining what made the first (in eachcase) musically expressive.The director of the experiment, psychologist Caroline Palmer (Cornell Uni-versity), while acknowledging that various factors may have been involved,singled out one that she believed to be primary: subtle rhythmic change (amelody out of synch, a minute elongation or contraction, a slight shift ofmovement). This kind of alteration, present in the initial performances (ofMozart and of Brahms), but conspicuously absent in the more rigid or me-chanical second performances, was suggested as providing a special key tothe nature of musical expressivity. It became apparent that what Ms. Palmer1 Nova: What is Music? Available on Films for the Humanities (Princeton, 1993).2 Roland Jacksonwas alluding to was an aspect of expression frequently described in musicalwritings, namely the kind of rubato known as "melodic" or "contrametric".2At the same time, another element of expressivity was equally prominent inMr. Bilson's performances, the presence (in his first versions) of slightvariances of dynamic level as he proceeded from one note (or chord) to thenext. Such changes, introduced spontaneously, went beyond any markingspresent in the musical scores. And although unnotated, they contributedsubstantially to the shaping of the melodic contours and harmonic succes-sions.These changes seem to belong to something intrinsic in musical expression,and have very likely always played an essential role in it. Composers in thepast have taken such shadings for granted, so much so that they have notfound it necessary (or even possible) to indicate them, while theorists andwriters on music have subsumed them under the general concept of "taste"(bon go&t). Because of this it is difficult to find much verification of theirexistence in past music or musical performance.One writer, however, did exceptionally make reference to dynamic varian-ces of this kind (from note to note, from chord to chord). This was DanielGottlob Turk, in 1789, who spoke at length about dynamics, not only in alarger sense (within entire works, within entire sections), but also as it ap-plied to individual tones,3 the very quality noted above as being so com-municative in Mr. Bilson's playing.Turk emphasized the need for playing with just the right degree of volume,not only in works as a whole or in sections, but (very significantly) in the in-dividual tones of a musical continuity.It is equally important to determine exactly the required heaviness or^ See, for example, Sandra P. Rosenblum, "The Uses of Rubato in Music, Eighteenthto Twentieth Centuries," Performance Practice Review 7 (1994), 33-53.3 Daniel Gottlob Tlirk, Klavierschute (Leipzig and Halle, 1789). For TUrk, a propertempo, a clear staccato and legato, and dynamic gradations constituted the three most essentialcomponents of musical expressivity (p. 348). In the section of his book devoted to dynamics(pp. 348-53) he set forth in detail how essential differences of volume were in establishing theoverall character of a work, in distinguishing clearly between the individual sections of awork, and in pointing up certain dissonant sonorities or sudden modulations.Performance Practice and Musical Expression 3lightness of execution at all times and in every individual place or tone.[italics mine]As for the dynamics that affected these note successions, certain tones, inTurk's estimation, called for a more forceful execution than did the remain-ing ones.Above all, individual tones {bold in original] of importance needto be presented more emphatically than the others.Furthermore, he pointed to the difficulty, nay the impossibility, of designat-ing precisely such minute nuances within a musical score. Moreover, theywere something a listener could only gain awareness of through refined anddiscriminate listening.How profusely, however, these words \forte and piano] would need to beadded if every single note requiring a particular shading had to be so de-signated.Certain refinements of expression cannot be described, they can only beheard.7This manner of playing, then, in which successive tones are subtly varie-gated in their volume, lay, for Turk, at the heart of musical expressivity. Atthe same time it was something that could only be attained through eachperformer's innate sensitivity and individual discretion.* ". . . eben so unmoglich ist es, den erforderlichen schwerern oder leichtem Vortragjedesmal, and bey alien einzelnen Stellen oder Tonen, genau zu bestimmen." (p. 353)5 "Oberhaupt mlissen sogar einzelne Tone von Bedeutung nachdrilcklicher angegebenwerden als die tlbrigen." (p. 350)° '. . . wie uberhauft wurden aber diese Wone beygefugt werden mUssen, wenn jedeeinzelne Note, welche eine besondere Schattining veriangt, damit bezeichnet werden sollte."(p. 348)' " . . . gewisse Feinheiten im Ausdrucke lassen sich schlechterdings nicht beschreiben;sie wollen geh&rt seyn." (p. 348)4 Roland JacksonIn a recent New York Times column Richard Taruskin characterized histo-rical (or early music) performance as being embarked upon "a drift towarduniformity, and (by implication) dullness."8 In the view of a number of crit-ics (according to Taruskin) ". . . guiltless performances [i.e. without anydeviation from the criteria of performance practice], . . . are ideally alike."In other words, by the very process of returning to the original manner ofrealizing a work, historical performances begin to lose all distinctiveness,and performers any claim to individuality.There is, to be sure, an element of truth in this. For a certain samenesswould seem appropriate and even essential if performance practice is toachieve anything approaching a true historical reenactment, or being at onewith the mind of a composer. But it remains questionable that this will ne-cessarily lead to "dullness." If we consider a parallel in the visual arts, anygreat painting or sculpture necessarily remains "the same" for each viewer.Yet such art works by no means become tedious or boring because of this.Similarly in music, the restoring of a work to its original manner ofperformance need not have the effect of making the work wearisome. Onthe contrary, as has been experienced in numerous recent performances,musical works, by virtue of being played more nearly as they were initially,take on surprising and unexpected qualities that we were scarcely aware ofbefore. And by directing the attention more entirely to the musical work andits intrinsic properties, rather than being beguiled by the subjective aspectsof this or that interpretation, a musical listener will become more akin to thediscerning observer of a visual art work.But despite all this, certain differences will inevitably remain between onemusical rendition and another. This is where the unnotated and unmarkedqualities, rhythmic or dynamic (spoken of above), come into play. Theyhave the effect of lending each performance a unique and individual expres-sivity. Composers throughout history have unfailingly been drawn to certainmusical performers over others, not simply because they more faithfullyexecuted their notes or markings, but because they possessed a specialsensitivity, this being displayed primarily through the subtle nuances of theirrenditions. If in the past such sensitivity was the main quality that set apartone performer from another, this remains just as true today, whether in thestandard concert world or in the world of "historical" performance.8 Richard Taruskin, "Why Do They All Hate Horowitz," New York Times. SundayClassical Musical Recordings View, Nov. 28,1993.

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