Wolff

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Christian Wolff A M E R I C

MICHAE L HI CKS CHRISTIAN ASPLUND

A N

C O M P O S E R S

 

christian wolff

 

 a m e r i c a n

Composers 

A list of books in the series appears at the end of this book.

 

Christian Wolff 

 Michael Hicks  Hicks  and  Christian Asplund 

u n i v e rs i t y o f i l l i n o i s p re s s

Urbana, Chicago, and Springfeld 

 

© 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois All rights reserved Manufactured Manufactur ed in the United States of America  5 4 3 2 1

C

∞ This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hicks, Michael, 1956– Christian Wolff Wolff / Michael Hicks and Christian Asplund. p. c. — (Aerican coposers) Includes bibliographical references and index.  978-0-252-03706-1 (cloth) 1. Wolff, Christian, 1934– 2. Coposers—United States—Biography. 3. Avant Avant garde (Music)—United States—History— 20th century. I. Asplun Asplund, d, Christi Christian, an, 1964– II. Title. m410.w81453 780.92—dc23

 

2012 2012005714

contents

acknowledgments

         

1. 2. 3. 4.

     

5. 6. 7.

  vii

Introduction 1 Orpheus in Tennis Sneakers 5 Situations of Too Extree Difculty: 1951–1959 19 Vast, Sparse Areas of Possibilit Possibility: y: 1960–1969 31 Let Playing Be Coposition and Coposition Playing: 1969–1974 45 Soething More Specically “Musical”: 1973–1984 57 Not to Do Soething I’ve Already Done: 1982–1999 70 Aong Friends, in a Private World 87

notes

  99

for further reading recordings

index

  113

  111

  109

 

 ac  a ck now l edgmen t s

 This book book began tice. The rst rst beginning beginning as hen Christian Christian Asplund invited Christian Wolff and others to the capus of Brigha Young University in the spring of 2006 for a sall syposiu in Wolff’s Wolff’s honor. honor. Asplund, ho had studied, perfored, theorized, theori zed, and taught Wolff Wolff’’s usic for decades, de cades, anted to shocase s hocase the coposer’s ork and allo students to perfor his usic ith hi. Asplund also organized a paper-reading session and a panel discussion, both of hich he and Hicks took part in.   The second beginning as hen, at the end of the syposiu, Hicks ade this unusual proposal: Would Asplund be illing to collaborate on a sall book about Wolff Wolff on the condition condit ion that Hicks do all the riting? riting ? Hicks ouldn’t attept  riting a book on Wolff Wolff ithout Asplund’ Asplund’ss help in navigating the topic. But he had tried collaborating on prose before and couldn’t do it. Asplund agreed, he and Hicks devised a book proposal, the University of Illinois Press accepted it, and the ork coenced.  American Music  (2007–10)   Hicks’ss unexpected four-year stint as the editor of Hicks’ of American  (2007–10) sloed the process yet alloed the authors’ ideas to foent. Asplund aassed scores, annotated the, intervieed friends of Wolff,archive. and selected and copied hundreds of priary docuents fro Wolff’ W olff’ss personal Hicks intervieed  Wolff  W olff and kept up up an an eail dialogue ith hi on any biographic biographical al and usical atters, large and sall. The to authors discussed, Hicks drafted, shared drafts  ith Asplund (and Wolff), Wolff), revised, and so forth. fort h. Here no are the results of a happy collaboration.   A collaboration, once begun, inevitably idens. We ust thank the any friends and faily of Wolff ho provided reiniscences and anecdotes, soe in iniature, others at length: lengt h: Robert Ashley, Ashley, Kui Dong, Petr Kotik, June K. Lein, Bunita Marcus, Larry Polansky, Jaes Tatu, Tatu, Calvert Calv ert Watkins, Willie Winant,  Tasen  T asen Wolff, and Tristra ristra  Wolff. Other artists and schola scholars rs discuss discussed ed our our ideas, ideas,

 

vii

christian wolff 

viii

| Acknowledgments 

read drafts, draft s, and ade us feel at hoe in a counity counit y of the learned. learne d. (To of those scholars ork don the hall fro us: Jerey Grisha and Steven Johnson.) David Bernstein and three anonyous readers considered either our initial proposal to the press or a copleted draft; all of the gave good advice. British scholars Stephen Chase, Philip Thoas, Laurence Sanders, and Virginia Anderson helped at  variouss ties ith  variou ith facts and and encourage encourageent. ent. We also think think fondly fondly of discussions discussions  ith stude students nts ho have play played ed in Aspl Asplund und’’s Grou Group p for Expe Experi riental ental Mus Music ic or have attended various related events eve nts in hich Wolff Wolff or the authors took part. We We can’t recall all those hose thoughts crossed the paths of ours, soeties lighting the  ay through through a ord ord or phras phrase. e. Our deep apologi apologies es for for any percei perceived ved ingratit ingratitude. ude.   The archives of Wesleyan and Northestern universities provided great Christian Wolff and John Cage aterial; other university libraries, ostly via interlibrary loans, shared of their troves. Our BYU deans, departent chairs, and librarians all lifted burdens and opened doors. At the University of Illinois Press, Judy McCulloh encouraged our initial idea and Laurie Matheson coaxed the book into print. Our ives and children graciously consented to suffer fro our occasional neglect of the for this book. Here’s hoping they’ll have labor’s fruits to copensate.   This set of acknoled acknoledgents gents is already tipping out of balance for so short a book. But e ust describe the lovely patronage and indulgence of our subject, Christian Wolff. Over ve years’ tie he shared ith us ore than 160 substantive eail exchanges, four long recorded intervies, and any unrecorded con versations. He He also opened to us his personal archive, hich hich included hundreds hundreds of ites, fro concert progras to letters to sketchbooks to photographs to recordings. We relied on hi to tell us his intentions, his inuences, and soe dates and other personal pers onal facts that ere otherise otheri se unlocatable. In soe cases, e found docuentation docuentation in his on papers or elsehere that corrected or refreshed his eory. the endthe he read coented on all the chapter drafts. He on sees to haveInenjoyed ride, and bups and all. So eofhope this book ill honor his achieveents not only by our on acadeic judiciousness, but by an engaging style that dras the reader into the usic and its aker’s outlook.

 

christian wolff

 

 

Introduction “I have noticed something . . . about Christian Wolff’s music. All you can do is suddenly listen in the same way that, when you catch cold, all you can do is suddenly sneeze.” —John Cage, Silence

of the many analogies  ade

to usic in our tie, that ay see one of the oddest—a respiratory one, ade not ith contept but adiration. John Cage is not alays easy to read, and his eaning here has the ring of a Zen koan. But adirers of Wolff’s usic ay nd in Cage’s epigraph, as Marianne Moore said of poetry, a place for the genuine. One often responds instinctively to Wolff’s usic, its ipulsiveness, its teasing gestures, its prickly resistance of logic. It is a usic often ore halting than oing. But any of us are dran to it involuntarily, inexplicably.   That ay suggest hy hy,, in an acadeic usical culture obsessed ith reasons and explanations, theory and analysis, Wolff’s usic has attracted less than its share of critical attention. Analysis craves ethods and systes to hich orks ay be subjected. Musicology craves consistency in a coposers’ ork, at least enough to bundle bund le pieces into “periods” or “phases.” And teaching, teaching , of course, craves the things that are ost easily taught. All of these cravings nd little satisfaction in Wolff’s usic. If Wolff has a ethod of coposing it is to overturn ethods fro piece to piece. The constancy is change, often radical change even in the  vocabularyy of a single  vocabular single ork. ork. That is bound bound to ork ork against against the the stability stability on hich analysis ust build. 1

 

christian wolff 

2

| Introduction

  The restles restlessness sness of his iagination prevent preventss hi fro settli settling ng into a Wolff “style,” or clearly recognizable recognizabl e idio—except that he favors epigraatic epi graatic utterances, even blunt stateents, though often as gentle as spare. They unfold, he says, in “a rhyth that has to do ith being surprised.”  If ost usical rhyth is tied to dance—pulse divided and ultiplied—Wolff’s gros out of a respect for the delicate, barely predictable rhyths of the central nervous syste. His rhyths see ore neural than cardiological, not rooted in pulse but ipulse. Perforers and listeners ust consent to respond to at least soe of his usic in an alost autonoic ay. It is not to be savored by ental coparisons ith usic of the classical canon. It relies on ne ays of behaving usically. But  ithin sall gestures gest ures one often nds oridity: “grace notes note s and feratas, you ight say, are the to odels for [y] kind of rhyth.”  Soeties it sees as though Wolff Wolff’’s usic ere in a latter-day lat ter-day French style—highly st yle—highly ornaented, o rnaented, but no ith the ain ideas, the ones ostensibly being ornaented, oitted. Ideally for Wolff, these ornaents ill cobine in a texture of collective spontaneity, “not so uch an expression of the player (or coposer) as a ay of connecting, aking a counity . . . soeties involving internally those uid and precise, 

and transparent, lines or projections of connection.”   Wolff has explained that he rites according to a vefold “series of ideas.”  The rst, as e have suggested, suggested, is is change. change. Wolff  Wolff ants to ake ne things, even teaching. One “strange” things. Next is teaching.  One ust convey ne ideas to listeners; the ideas ay be abstract or quite concrete—even starkly political, as e ill see. Third is unpredictability. T unpredictability.  To o ebrace the orld is alays to ebrace a certain randoness.  And the spontaneity spontaneity one one feels in rando randoness ness should should infor one’ one’ss usic. Fourth  reedom.. This sees intrinsic to his other purposes, of course. Yet Wolff ust is reedom is noise.   assert its fundaental value as an idea in usical behavior. The fth idea is noise. One should explore (and ultiately ultiate ly challenge) that category categor y of sound. What ay see disordered ay siply anifest, hen close attention is paid, a ore coplex for of order. Noticeably absent fro Wolff Wolff’’s series of ideas are “beauty” or “craft.”” Though “craft. Though the latter ay infor a ork’s ork’s construction and the forer derive deriv e fro it, Wolff Wolff subjugates the t he both to the larger ideas that propel his usic. Or, put differently, essential beauty and craft appear in the ideas theselves.   Wolff spent decades as a professor of classics at Harvard and Dartouth.  The very ord “classics, “classics,”” of course, iplies a standard of taste that can be veried by traditions, even hierarchies of cultural poer. That Wolff should pursue “classics” for a career, then, ight see to soe s oe beildering at best and, at orst, hypocritical. But this perceived dichotoy isses the ark. Reeber that the classics—especially Greek, Wolff’s specialty—exist in either dead languages or

 

ones that reain r eain reote fro Aerican English. While Old World World classics classi cs ay be canonical in soe sense, they are also arcane. They require a change of ind to appreciate. In that light, Wolff’s friend Frederic Rzeski speculated in 1985  hy one ould be dran both to ancient Greek tragedy and to experiental usic: “What appeals to e personally is that I nd yself ys elf in the sae situation, situat ion, basically, that these characters ere in: confronted ith the as yet not-too-clear possibility of a ne civilization.”   If Wolff’ olff’ss career as a classicist is unusual aong progressive coposers, so ight be his traditional faily life. Married for life and devoted father of four children, Wolff ay see uch “squarer” than his usic. But Wolff found that children in the hoe provoked ne copositional coposit ional strategies. strategie s. Interruptibility, for exaple, had to be taken into account. Collecting ideas and assebling the like a osaic becae habitual. And the lessons learned fro children (especially rhetorical strategies) insinuated theselves into ne orks. Although scholars seldo discuss the t he effects of parenting on aking art, ith Wolff Wolff one ust acknoledge the.   Encountering Encounteri ng Wolff the an, one ay notice ho uch his speech reseble resebless his usic. He soeties holds forth ith great aniation and erudition then stops, suddenly pensive. At the height of a passionate stateent statee nt he ight halt and look into your eyes as though he had just taken a vo of silence. His usic displays the sae ixture of eloquence elo quence and reticence. reticen ce. A orid passage that iplies iplie s a developental continuation ay siply cease or peter out as though exhausted.  What one is left ith sees clipped or perhaps siply allusive. Wolff accepts that the listener ill entally supply a consequent for any antecedent he presents.   What is less typical of the an is the juxtapositi juxtapositional onal nature of any orks.  While Wolff tends tends to speaks in paragraphs, paragraphs, logical and orderly orderly,, he tends to cocopose ith fragents. That gives his usic a sense both of restlessness and hisy.  Were  W ere it not laden laden ith ith so any pauses, one ight ight call call the usic peripatetic. But agitation gives ay quickly to an underlying cal. Thus his gestures take on the character of tentative but exultant oents.   We feel soehat daunted to assess the ork of a coposer still living, riting, playing, and speaking about his ork. Given the careers of soe conteporary coposers—Milton Babbitt and Elliott Carter, for exaple—Wolff could  ell continue his path, his “series “se ries of ideas, ideas,”” for any years ye ars that ay yet y et yield surprises. On the other hand, e have had the good fortune of Wolff’s help ith this rst continuous narrative of his life and ork. Although it is only introductory, e hope it ill illuinate ell a coposer ho alays aspires to illuination through usic.

 

christian wolff 

| Introduction

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4

 

  If this book is introductor introductoryy, it is also revisio revisionist. nist. That you are holding this book in your hands is a partial refutation of his reputation as only a eber of the Ne York York School of coposers, co posers, or, indeed, an adjunct to t o it. Because he had a separate career and did not need to stake clais in the usical landscape in order to survive, Wolff partially receded into the backbrush of that landscape—despite Cage’s attepts to push hi forard. In this ork e try to offer a fresh ap to his pioneering.

 



Orpheus in Tenni enniss Sneaker Sneakerss

late at night, februar y 27, 27, 1933,  forty-six-year-old

Kurt  Wolff  W olff sat ith his ancée Helen listening to Herann Herann Göring on the radio radio ferociously blaing the Counists for the burning of the Reichstag. Kurt burst out: “These are aden. Pack!” Within three days he and Helen had left Gerany. By the end of March they had arried in London and oved into a house in the hills above Nice, France, here they rented rent ed roos to other Gerans ho had ed.   Kurt Wolff had long been restless and on edge. Since the 1910s he had sought out and published progressive European authors, including Kafka and so-called “expressionists”—though Wolff rejected attepts to “force on the a shared identity. iden tity.”” “Creative achieveen achieveent, t,”” he later insisted, insis ted, “is alays the ork of  an individual.”  Having atched the econoic crises of the 1920s and a groing reticence aong the Geran avant garde, Wolff Wolff had sold his publishing publishin g interests in 1930 (the sae year he divorced fro Elisabeth Merck, ith ho he had to children, Maria and Nikolaus). No, ith “aden” in full reign, “heaven didn’t beckon,” Kurt explained, “heaven kicked.”   But the path to heaven as a labyrinth. Alost a year to the day after she ar ar-ried Kurt, tenty-seven-year-old Helen gave birth to their rst and only child: Christian George Wolff. In 1935 the three oved to a house in the countryside near Florence, here they harbored other refugees, until the revocation of their

 

christian wolff 

| Orpheus in Tennis Sneakers 

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passport in 1938 drove the back into France. In May 1939 they oved to Paris,  here, hen ar ith ith Gerany Gerany broke out that fall, fall, Kurt as as interned for three three  eekss by the Fren  eek French ch gove govern rnent. ent. The foll folloi oing ng year he as inte interned rned aga again; in; Hele Helen n soon folloed, sending six-year-old Christian to a convent school for six onths. By suer 1940 the faily had reunited in Nice. In the folloing onths they igrated est to Spain and Portugal; then, as part of a assive U.S. liberation of Pinto, a croded ship to the United States, landing exiles, they boarded the Serpa Pinto, a on the Ne York shore on the sunny orning of March 30, 1941.   They checked into the Hotel Colonial, here they stayed for ve onths before oving into a craped apartent at 41 Washington Square—the heart of Ne York York City’s Greenich Village, Village, hich no teeed te eed ith artistic ar tistic and intellectual exiles fro Europe. In Deceber the United States entered the World  War  W ar.. Geran exiles becae becae eney aliens, ho had to pool their resources and talents to survive. Wanting to elevate European thought in the U.S. book trade, Kurt negotiated ith his old friend Curt von Faber de Faur—then at Harvard— for a loan to start a ne book copany in February 1942 ith a ythic nae he had used for an earlier copany in Italy: Pantheon. He and Helen created a otto for the copany’s rst prospectus: “Classics that are Modern, Moderns that are Classics.” With anuscripts and letters spread throughout the Wolffs’ apartent, Pantheon quickly becae the Aerican voice of the European literary avant garde, including Stefan George, André Gide, and Albert Caus. In 1943, Pantheon joined forces ith the Bollingen Foundation to issue the coplete  orks of Paul Paul Valéry Valéry and Carl Carl Jung.   After they had copleted Pantheon ork in the daytie, the Wolffs’ nightly routine included Helen cooking the eals and Kurt and Christian ashing the dishes, here the kitchen sink becae the ain site of conversations beteen father and son about social and aesthetic issues, ith literature being a rosetta stone to both. Kurt spoke to Christian either in Geran or English depending on context and ood. English orked ell enough in undane conversation, and both parents anted their son to aintain a U.S. identity. But Kurt kept his native tongue alive in his son, according to Helen, not anting to speak in a “rudientary” ay to Christian, ho in 1942 had begun school at Friends Seinary on Sixteenth Street.   One of the any nonsectari nonsectarian an schools founded by Quakers across the U.S. Northeast, Friends becae Christian’ Christ ian’ss school fro then t hen through all of his precollege school years. It as an old-fashioned, highly disciplined school ith classes fro kindergarten through telfth grade, each ith about tenty to tenty-ve students, including a groing share of eigrés, any of the Jeish. Each sub-

 

 ject had one one teacher, teacher, soeties soeties a highly highly trained expert expert to ho students could go for knoledge beyond the basic curriculu. Openindedness as as crucial as scholarly zeal. The school had an intraural basketball tea on hich Christian played in his high school s chool years, despite his father’s objections that such sports  ere ultiately “unhealthy and and dangerous.” dangerous.” Still, one easured social status at Friends by ho any languages one could speak, Russian novels one had read, French ovies one had seen, or art galleries one had visited. Christian enjoyed Flaubert and Tolstoy though favored Aerican classics such as Tom Sawyer  and  and Treasure Island. But Island. But Friends offered no usical training, though students soeties played at the eekly Quaker asseblies here everyone learned to sing hyns beteen long stretches of silence and the occasional iproptu speaker.   Kurt Wolff, hoever, kne the usic orld ell. He as an accoplished cellist. His father had been a usic professor profes sor and choral conductor in Bonn, ith ties to Brahs’ Brahs’ss and Joachi’ Joachi ’ss circles. (Indeed, (Inde ed, as a boy, Kurt had et e t Brahs at Clara Schuann’s Schuann’s funeral.) In Ne York, York, Kurt and Helen Hele n had notable European usicians for friends, especially Adolph Busch and his ore proinent son-inla,, Rudolf Serkin. Hoping to lift the cultural sights la sight s of their only child, Kurt and Helen exposed Christian Christ ian to any artifacts of Western Western culture—paintings, culture—painti ngs, poes, and, of course, usic, hich for the eant a repertoire doinated by Bach at one end and Brahs at the other. Although associated ith odernis because of the authors ho Kurt had published for decades, his and Helen’s personal tastes in usic rested rly in historic styles and idios.   Christian folloed suit. He ent to as any classical concerts as he could, especially piano recitals, often arriving at interission hen one could enter e nter ithout paying. Soeties he booed the ne usic he heard. He borroed books of Beethoven piano sonatas, hich he picked through, never really learning the to perforance level, but coing to kno their thees and textures. He did the ell-T Tempe empered red Clav Clavier ier.. Since his school taught no usic theory, sae ith it h Bach’s Bach’s Wellt heory, he read a book on the “eleents” of usic—notation, key signatures, basic harony, and instruentation. Until his parents got a piano he had to settle for practicing at school or friends’ hoes.   Despite its lack of usic curriculu, Friends fostere fostered d uch of his inforal training in the art. One of his best friends at the school fro the seventh grade on as David Lein (ho ould becoe one of the nation’s best-knon usic theorists). Less than a year older than Christian, Lein as already a ne pianist ho had studied ith Eduard Steuerann and had even played Schuann’s  Kreislerianaa in a Friends assebly. David and Christian soeties arrived at the  Kreislerian seinary around 7:30 (an hour and a half before classes started) to practice four-

 

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hand scores at the piano, soe of hich they played for friends after school. The repertoire consisted of classical asterorks, ostly Bach and Mozart.   On the hole, the to disliked popular usic. Christian responded only tepParade ade radio idly to the fe Broaday shos he sa and vigorously resisted Hit resisted Hit Par  radio prograing. While he and his friends kne nothing of the ore adventurous  jazz then eerging in soe local clubs, they did cherish one U.S U.S.. vernacular style then resurging: resurgin g: Dixieland. Most Friday and Saturday nights, Friends high school boys ould gather at the Stuyvesant Casino on Second Avenue and Tenth Street (or at Central Plaza, a fe blocks aay) to hear players like Sidney Bechet, Pee  Wee  W ee Russell, Mugsy Mug sy Spanier, and Jaes Jae s P. Johnson playing hot jazz fro the 1920s. The Stuyvesant as one of a fe big, barnlike structures in the area ith  very “live” acoustics, acoustics, not to ention beer by the pitcher, pitcher, table dancing, and no one checking IDs. The atosphere as raucous—far fro the Quaker ideals of quietude—and the boys fro Friends found the club intoxicating in every sense. In retrospect, to aspects of the usic pregured Christian’s later usical practices: virtuosity virt uosity and heterophony heter ophony.. The Dixieland that enthralled enthr alled hi and his colleagues as, as he later put it, “strong” chaber usic—“high-energy usic—“high-ene rgy collaborative usic-aking” by spontaneously inventive and technicall technicallyy skilled players.   In the suer of 1948, Kurt and Helen took the fourteenfourteen-year-old year-old Christian to a Tangleood Tangleood concert concer t of the Juilliard Juill iard Quartet playing a progra progr a of Berg’s Berg’s Lyric Suite, Schoenberg’s Fourth String Quartet, and Webern’ s Five Pieces for String Quartet. Later, Christian frequently recalled this one event as life changing: he heard for the rst tie usic that he thought not only ovingly strange but free enough that he hiself ight be able to rite it—uch different, he thought, fro the pseudo-Bachian counterpoint he had attepted unsuccessfully unsuccessful ly before, ith little grasp of its rules and procedures.   At about the sae tie, a faily friend asked Christian if he anted his cache Quarterly. ly. Christian of back issues of Henry Coell’s Coell’s New Music Quarter  Christian eagerly accepted.  As he he pored pored through the pages, pages, he sa the scores scores to any any “ultra-oder “ultra-odern” n” orks, as Coell called the, especially percussion pieces: John Cage’s Amores, Cage’s Amores, Edgard  Edgard  Ionisation, and  Varèse’  V arèse’ss Ionisation,  and the Three Dance Movements  by  by Willia Russell (the ending of hich featured the shattering of a bottle). The haronies and tibres in these scores struck hi as ysterious, the rhythic congurations unprecedented.  With no recordings of these scores at hand and, so far far,, no opportunity to hear the in concert, Wolff had to appreciate ostly the sheer iage of difference they presented. Nevertheless, he could hear soe odernist pieces on WNYC Oresteia setting. radio, including Ionisation including Ionisation and  and Milhaud’s early Oresteia  setting. In these orks he found odels of radical attitude, if not of specic technique. Together ith

 

 hat he had heard at Tangleood and and the Stuyvesant Casino, the copositions copositions began to give hi vague ideas of usic that had the rigor of European asters but the happily cluttered textures of Dixieland.   Attepting to follo the exaples he had heard and seen, he rote a fe dissonant iniatures on the piano his parents had no acquired. Soetie in 1948, friends of the Wolffs arranged for Christian to audition the (along ith soe classical standards) for their thei r neighbor Carl Friedberg, Friedberg , an aged forer pupil of Clara Schuann. Although not ipressed ith it h Christian’s Christian’s playing, hich even the fourteen-year-old fourteen-y ear-old kne as lackluster lackluste r, Friedberg thought Christian’ Christian’ss copositions had potential. He encouraged the young an to spend tie iprovising at the keyboard. Wolff began to do so as a eans of generating ideas—leading his other, a friend recalls, to greet hi as he iprovised ith the siple question, “Koponierst du?”—“are you coposing?”   Late in 1949 Christian began piano lessons ith Grete Sultan, another Geran ho had coe to the United States in 1941. Wolff kne soe of Sultan’s staunch perforances of old-orld classics but only gradually cae to realize her devotion to ne usic, especially especially hen he turned pages for her on a set of pieces by Hans Apostel she played at Colubia University. He learned she had even et and played pieces by Henry Coell, publisher of the New the  New Music  scores  scores that had beguiled hi. With Sultan’s guidance he began to practice the op. 11 of Arnold Schoenberg, his rst playing of the kind of usic he had heard at Tangleood.   Wolff olff’’s lessons ith Sultan ere a ixed success. On the one hand she tolerated and even encouraged his bringing of sall, quirky original pieces to lessons. On the other hand, he practiced less and less, arriving at each lesson unprepared to play but ith a ne coposition or to in hand to sho her, brief pieces that iitated Schoenberg and Bartók. After eeks of this, she told hi he needed to nd soeone ho could help hi ith coposing; she could not. Christian thought iediately of Varése, ho had once knocked on the Wolffs’ door and introduced hiself, and hose Ionisation hose Ionisation Christ  Christian ian kne. But Varèse’ Varèse’ss reputation rep utation for severity and for courting excessive devotion fro students arded Christian aay fro the idea. Sultan, eanhile, thought of a friend of Merce Cunningha, the dancer ho lived upstairs fro her. Merce’s friend as another New another  New  Music  percussion  percussion coposer, ho had been introduced to Sultan by Henry Coell in 1945: John Cage.   In March 1950 Wolff ade an appointent to see Cage at his Loer East Side teneent on Monroe Street, a rundon at next door to a burned-don rat-infested bakery. With no naeplates on the doors, Wolff knocked on one door after another anot her until he found fou nd Cage’s Cage’s on the top oor. He shoed Cage a fe

 

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sall, densely dissonant pieces, including to for violin quartet and a song cycle

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for voice and to violins on a text by a French edieval poet. After seeing these  orks, Cage agreed agreed to teach the young an. an. When Christian Christian left, Morton Feldan recalled, Cage “cae donstairs and tubled into y apartent, shaking  ith exciteent. He just couldn’t get over the usic that as brought to hi, especially fro soeone so young.” Cage rote enthusiastically to his friend Pierre Boulez: “I have a onderful pupil. He is sixteen and his favorite coposer is Webern. He has great intelligence andsensitivity. What’s ore, he as born in France. His nae is Christian Wolff.”   At the tie, Wolff kne only the Webern of earlier orks, especiall especiallyy the op. 5 pieces for string str ing quartet, quarte t, hich Wolff Wolff had heard h eard at Tangleood. Tangleood. But Cage had hand-copied the Ne York York Public Library’ Library’ss score s core to Webern’ Webern’ss Syphony Sy phony,, “since it as nohere to be bought.” Probably relying on hat he had learned fro Boulez in a visit to France in 1949 and fro Leiboitz’s nely translated book on the Second Viennese School, Cage had begun an analysis of the ro fors in the rst oveent of the Webern Syphony. He assigned his ne student to nish labeling the ro fors in that oveent, a rigorous indoctrination into telve-tone pointillis.   For six eeks, one lesson a eek, Cage also gave Wolff exercises in species counterpoint (g. 1) and taught hi his ethod of organizing a hole piece so that all the tie spaces, both icro and acro, ere in proportional relationships.   The purpose of these technical studies, Cage explained, as to learn ho one develops discipline. After the foral lessons stopped, Wolff kept riting usic and et ith Cage fro tie to tie, the older entor not only advising Wolff on his ork, but introducing introduci ng hi to the usic of Erik Er ik Satie and Virgil Thoson, fro both of ho, Wolff recalls, “I rst got a sense of ho vernacular strains ight be copatible ith odernis.” Cage, folloing the exaple of his forer teacher Arnold Schoenberg, didn’t charge Wolff.   Hoever adventurous Cage as in his ideas, he as a strict acadeician,  hose notion of usic abandoned expressivity and relied on a priori fors not built fro up fro “content” (e.g., exposition, developent, recapitulation) but fro proportional schees—nubers and groupings of easures or beats, into  hich one could pour short short usical gestures, including including percussive percussive “noise.” “noise.” And he elaborated these proportional schees not by intuitive lengthening of segents but through the nesting of proportions, apping teporal ratios onto  various structural structural levels, fro icro icro to acro. It as an an acadeicist acadeicist odernis odernis that took its cues fro Webern, as Webern had taken his fro early sixteenthcentury counterpoint.

 

Figure 1. A page of Wolff’ Wolff’ss rst species counterpoint exercises ith corrections by  John Cage. Wolff Papers. Used by perission. perission.

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Cage urged Wolff to copose ith only a fe notes in scale segents. This

began ith solo sol o onody, onody, then advanced to pieces piece s for ultiple instruent ins truents. s. (Wolff (Wolff also explains that, “one day, I as brosing through this book about edieval usic . . . and I sa a usical exaple ith soe close to-part counterpoint  ith very fe notes, notes , and for soe reason re ason that iage stuck in y ind.”)  By  May 1950 he had copleted three songs for voice and ute, four for voice and to percussionists (a grouping derived fro Thoson), and four instruental duos—none the involving   In June, of Wolff rote a piecepiano. for just three adjacent pitches, the Duo for Violins, hich becae his putative op. 1. It consists entirely of the pitches D5–Eb5–E5 played in different rhythic and tibral cobinations for eighty-ve easures (alost four and a half inutes). inu tes). For the duo, the sixteen-year-old sixte en-year-old Wolff Wolff orked out a rational schee, one that put a ne tist on “telve-tone” theory. He surised that a group of three pitches deployed beteen to solo-line instruents could yield telve tel ve different “sounds.” Each individual pitch pit ch played alone akes a sound. There are also three dyadic siultaneities (pitches 1 + 2, 2 + 3, and 1 + 3). So far, then, a total of six different sounds. But Wolff adds to that the various skeerings of the dyads-that is, dyads in hich the to pitches are not attacked siultaneously or not held the sae length of tie. So e have: 1 to which 2 is added, then both held to a simultaneous ending  ending   

or

1 and 2 simultaneously attacked attacked but held for different lengths

—and so on ith the other to dyadic cobinations. These skeerings of the dyads, then, create six additional add itional “sounds,” giving Wolff Wolff a total of telve different sounds fro one three-pitch set for to solo-line instruents.   For his reaining year of high school, Wolff continued developi developing ng siilar techniques fro the Webern-Cage axis: short, lean pieces ith only fe pitches or xed “gauts.” For Cage, a “gaut” as siply a collection of o f sounds, each an individual pitch or noise or clup of either. These gauts ould take the place of scales. Each gaut could be arranged into a single onophonic line, a “elody” of assorted sonorities. Such lines could then be deployed in preconceived groupings of easures or beats—often be ats—often “square-root” fors, organized into A × A foral structures or tie lengths. The “elodies” of gauts, draped over these syetrically nested fors, constituted the hole substance of ne orks.   Thus the pieces in Wolff’ olff’ss early opus—hich set the pattern for all his subsequent copositional periods—ere epigraatic, not only for their brevity, but for the terseness of their gestures. Silences also lled the pieces, rendering the usical fabric allusive: the spaces resebled the gaps in short-line Aerican poetry, poetry, invit-

 

ing the listener to focus on individual ords or brief phrases. These early pieces (and ost that folloed) often seeed like little patchorks of usical haiku.

  The duo as the rst of a series of orks ith less than the total chroatic chroatic..  Although  Alth ough defyi defying ng the hyper hyperchro chroati aticis cis of the Scho Schoenber enbergg and Webern he loved (not to ention ost of Cage’s ork), Wolff used liited-pitch pieces to rene the discipline Cage had enjoined. These nine orks, all copleted before Wolff graduated fro Friends Seinary in 1951, proved soe of his ost prescient and inuential. While they share a coon spirit of constraint, each ork broke soe ne ground for hi, suggesting a peripatetic spirit that ould energize his ork for decades and fuel the ore spontaneously changeable (he ould say “efcient”) sei-iprovisatory orks for hich he ould becoe best knon.   Several of the copositio copositions ns of this period see like tropes on the technique of Duo for Violins. Consider the String Str ing Trio, Trio, for exaple. exaple . In the duo, the “elody” consisted of pitches sounding alone, siultaneously, or overlapped in varying ays. In the String Trio, Wolff increased the nuber of instruents by one and added double stops to the texture. He also splayed the harony: here the duo had three half-step-related pitches, the trio used three half-step-related pitch classes  (C#–D–D #), xed in their registral placeent but spread quasi-syetrically over a span of four octaves (C #2, D3, D #4, D5, C #6). Forally, the piece unfolds in a strict ABA for the rst tenty-seven easures (arked by a double bar), folloed by BAABA, in hich each of the “expositional” A and B segents is subtly varied, typically by inial elongations or copressions of tie lengths. It exeplied a trait to hich Wolff ould recur throughout his career: doggedly forulaic structures tepered ever so slightly by oentary intuitions.   His next piece, the Serenade (for ute, clarinet, and violin), broke ne haronic ground, using three pitches spaced in perfect fths: E4/B4/F E4/B 4/F#5. This overtly perpetuo pointillistic texture, oddly forediatonic fraeork, deployed in a moto perpetuo pointillistic shadoed the classic inialis of the next generation. Forally, Wolff adapted 4 set of proportions Cage’s “square-root” for as his scaffolding. He starts ith this Cage’s t his pr oportions 2:1.5:3:2.5:1 (= 10), hich represent nubers of easures in 4 (or, in other ords, forty beats arranged into groups of 8:6:12:10:4). In Cage’s ethod, one ould take that series to represent the nuber of sounding repetitions of the forty-beat pattern in each section of the piece, thus:

2 × (8:6:12:10:4) 1.5 × 

"

3 × 

"

2.5 × 

"

1 × 

"

13

 

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| Orpheus in Tennis Sneakers 

  Rather than this essentially additive approach, Wolff took a ultiplicative ons  onto approach, apping the sae proporti sae proportions   onto each section. Thus, the tenty-ea-

sure rst section divides into ve segents ith the lengths of 4:3:6.5:2 easures each (each segent arked by a dynaic shift). The second section (15 easures) divides into ve sections in these proportions: 3 (12 beats):2.25 (9 beats):4.5 (18 beats): 3.75 (15 beats): 1.5 (6 beats) (= 15 easures, or 60 beats). And so forth.   After riting a four-pitch trio (January 1951), Wolff rote his rst ork based on the “chart” technique Cage had used in his Concerto for Piano and Orchestra. This technique involved the coposer aking a box of squares, like a sall chessboard, across each ro of hich he rote series of sonorities. Wolff or Prepared Piano. This Piano.  This four oveent took that basic idea but odied it in F in  For piece coposed in the spring of 1951 used Cage’s technique of applying objects to strings to turn the piano into a sall pseudo-percussion enseble. To structure the piece, Wolff ade four 5 × 5 squares into hich he rote vertically (up, don, up, don, etc.) sonorities fro gauts he had created for each square (each sonority fro one to ve pitches in density): I = 7 sounds II = 12 sounds (+ 1 that sounded only once) III = 10 sounds (+ 1 that sounded only once) IV = 6 sounds (+ 3 that sounded only once apiece)

(Only by the fourth oveent had all telve pitch classes appeared.)   Then, having lled in each box verticall verticallyy, Wolff rote out resultant horizontal 4 lines, packing various linear cobinations into the tenty-ve 4 easures of each oveent, ith irregular lengths of rests aong the, privileging silence to a degree not knon in his earlier orks. This ethod, of course, perutated the sounds in a ay systeatically contrary to their actual coposition. Thus, fro that process, Wolff arrived in the rst oveent at his seven sounds arranged in this order: 123234234253426137235154653761277624414

 Their construc constructive tive origins notith notithstanding standing,, one ay sense a pleasing pleasingly ly “organ “organic” ic” unfolding of eleents: the gradual introduction of each ne sound one at a tie (after the initial three have sounded in succession) until no. 7 nally arrives as the eighteenth attack in the piece.   Wolff olff’’s illful executi execution on of “non-int “non-intention entionality” ality” ipress ipressed ed Cage deeply.  For or Prepared Piano, Cage Piano,  Cage explained to Boulez at the tie, Wolff had created In F In “usic in a structure hich xes sounds in a preconceived space ithout regard for linear line ar continuity continui ty.” .” “It as Wolff,” Wolff,” Cage later lat er explained, explai ned, “ho [in this piece]

 

ade clear to e the necessity to renounce any interest in continuity. It as he  ho, in order to ‘let sounds sounds coe into their on,’ on,’ rote usic vertically vertically on the

page though the usic as to be played horizontally.” Thus Wolff had “discov“ discovered  geoetric  geoetric eans for freeing free ing his usic of intentional intenti onal continuity.” continuity.” In a 1959 essay,, Henry Coell faously said that Cage and his Ne York essay York School colleagues colle agues (Wolff, Feldan, and Earle Bron) ere “four coposers ho ere getting rid of the glue.” That eant, Cage explained, that hile other coposers “felt the necessity to stick sounds together to ake a continuity, e four felt the opposite necessity to get rid of the glue so that sounds ould be theselves.” Cage then said, “Christian Wolff as the rst to do this.”   Though ipress ipressed ed by Wolff olff’’s ideas, Cage encourage encouraged d his student to get practical experience by riting and playing for dancers. Wolff arranged ith  Jean Erdan—a friend of Merce Cunningha and the ife of Pantheon/Bollingen author Joseph Capbell—to Capbell—to play for a fe of her classes and for at least one of her students’ dance recitals. At that 27 May 1951 recital, hich included  orks by Morton Feldan Feldan and Lou Harrison, Harrison, Wolff played piano piano for six of the ten nubers. These included pieces by Schoenberg and Bartok, as ell as to of his on, one of hich being his rst public attept at iprovisation. It as a stop-gap solution for having hav ing to play for a dance he had thought t hought ouldn’t be ready (and hence hadn’t hadn ’t ritten a piece for), but ended ende d up on the progra. To iprovise iprovis e in this circustance asn’t an aesthetic choice, of course, but a pragatic one.  Wolff  W olff recalls it as “not so uch ‘spontaneity’ as being being ready as a perforer to do hat’s necessary to keep things going.”   The onth after that recital, he graduated fro Friends Seinary and his parents took hi on a trip to Europe. Cage got Christian to spend a eek in Paris  ith Boulez Boulez,, ho shoe shoed d Wolff aroun around d the ne usic co counity unity there and even gave hi the anuscript of Boulez’s Boulez’s rst piano sonata, inscribed “in adiration of his so precocious talent fro one ho is nearly an old an.”  Boulez “basically babysat e,” Wolff recalling t hat “I spent all y tie t ie hi andeach he introduced e to all his said, friends and ethat hung out together and ith e shoed other usic,” including soe by hiself and Feldan. During Wolff’s visit, Boulez  rote a letter to Cage afring that Cage and Boulez ere then “at the sae stage of research.” Boulez did not no t like Wolff Wolff’’s liited-pitch liited- pitch technique, techni que, though, nor did he think highly of his copositions, he rote to Cage. Cag e. He urged Wolff Wolff to use the coplete set of all telve pitch classes—hich Wolff ould exuberantly do a fe onths later.   While this trip introduced Wolff to the orld of the European serialist serialists, s, it also shoed hi ho differently he and his Ne York colleagues had coe to

 

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 vie usical construction. construction. Where Webern had inspired inspired the Europeans ith ith his orderliness, the Aericans prized Webern’ Webern’ss terseness. terse ness. Boulez and his copatriots

15

busied their textures ith elaborate ebellishents of serial schees. Cage and his friends increasingly pared don their textures, constructing constructing delicate isolated gestures that ere like constellations conste llations in their sparsity. Inference becae the ideal.   After his return to Ne York, Wolff began a kind of graduation piece—a suation of the techniques of his entors (Cage via Webern and vice versa) coupled ith an expansion of forces. The title, Nine, title, Nine, suggests  suggests soe copositional constraints: • 9 instruments (ute, clarinet, clarinet, trumpet, horn, trombone, celesta, celesta, piano, two cellos) • 9 pitches (E2, F #2, F #3, G #3, A4, E5, B5, C6, D7—the pitch classes of an A minor ascending melodic minor scale, with the E and the F # doubled) • a 9 × 9 grid, into which Wolff would place sounds from an enormous gamut 28

He did the latter by laying out various kinds of continuities in geoetric patterns. Each continuity could consist of different relationships. For exaple: consider an isolated block chord of four pitches, played by four instruents at the sae dynaic (this is the t he “purest,” ost stable haronic har onic unit in the piece). piece ). One then has any possible “continuities”: different pitches (soe or all), different instruents (soe or all), different dynaics (soe or all), overlapping the chord ith one or ore pitches sounded by another instruent (or other instruents), spreading out the attacks of chord tones, expanding the nuber of broken-chord tones (to as any as nine), and so forth. Any such variant could be chosen (or cobined) in a given square; successive squares in diagonal or other patterns ould follo the sae kind of “continuity “continui ty.” .” Having “coposed out” o ut” the grid in this ay ay,, linking one sound to the next along a given line of boxes—and including occasional epty boxes, connoting longer rests—Wolff rests—Wolff could then proceed fro left to right or Prepared Prepared Piano Piano)) to realign the continuities into discontinuities. He then (as in F in For essentially transcribed the piece fro the t he grid, deploying rests as needed, recast4 4 into

2 4,

ing the eter fro 81 easures of 162 easures of and occasionally  3 changing the eter (e.g., to 8 ) for ease of reading.  Nine becae,   Copleted in Septeber 1951, 1951, Nine  becae, in effect, Wolff’s hybrid of  Webern’  W ebern’ss Syphony—a Syphony—a rigorously rigorously organized pointillist piece for for ixed orchestral colors—and Cage’s Sixteen Dances—a nine-instruent chart-based gaut piece copleted in January of that year. Where Webern had used a telve-tone technique ith canons, canons , Wolff used block-by-block block-by- block non-telve-tone non-telv e-tone usical “tiles” in a osaic of sound. It as atonal and tightly controlled on one hand, but pitch restricted and intuitive on the other. In later years, Feldan ould call it the “asterork” of this period.

 

  By then Wolff had dran fro Cage the fundaental ideas, habits, and relationships that ould guide the rest of his copositional career. The ideas included an overall nonexpressive constructivis; the priacy of rhythic scheatics for a

piece; the poer of silence; the technique of sonic “gauts”; the breadth of usable continuities fro sound sound to sound; and the value of all kinds of ideas for rethinking usic. Species counterpoint gave Wolff a sense of discipline and calculation at a note-to-note level; iprovisation freed Wolff for the spontaneity that ould pervade his best knon pieces. Cage brought Wolff into a nurturing counity of likeinded artists (including painters). By Wolff’s high school graduation, he  as an insep inseparab arable le e eber ber of hat oul ould d beco becoe e kno knon n as the Ne York Scho School ol of coposers, consisting of Cage, Feldan, Wolff, and Earle Bron (husband of Carolyn [Rice] Bron, a ne dancer in Merce Cunningha’s copany). And Cage taught Wolff that only perforance constituted the copletion of a ork. Hence, Wolff Wolff ould soon becoe less les s true to “ideal” rules than to do-it-yourself do-it-y ourself ethods that ould facilitate perforance. perforance.   But Cage repeatedly said that “I learned ore fro [Christian Wolff] than he did fro e.” That clai ay be as uch generosity as fact. But Wolff Wolff certainly provided three things that notably altered Cage’ Cage’ss copositional career. One as the or Prepared Prepared Piano, Piano, the calculated discontinuity of F of For  the “letting sounds be theselves”  ith hich Cage Cage credited Wolff. Wolff. Another as Wolff’ olff’ss gift to Cage in return for free lessons. In 1950 Pantheon had published a ne to-volue edition of Cary Baynes’ss English translation of Richard Wilhel’ Baynes’ Wilhel’ss Geran version of the Chinese  I Ching. “Because I as getting free instructions and e ere friends,” said classic I classic  Wolff,  W olff, “I ould try . . . to ake y y contribution” contribution” to Cage’s Cage’s ork. Wolff thought thought the ne I ne I Ching  edition  edition ight interest and even eve n inuence Cage, partly because he kne his teacher’s interest in Jung, ho rote the preface to this edition. The I The  I Ching ’s rst volue also contained agic squares and, at the end, a fold-out chart of hexagras that resebled agic square syetry. So Christian gave the set to his teacher (the rst of any Pantheon publications he ould give Cage). “I  as struck iediately iediately,,” Cage said, “by the possibility of using the I the  I Ching  as   as a eans for ansering questions that had to do ith nubers”—better even than the agic square. The  I Ching  suggested  The I  suggested to Cage a echanis for routinizing chance operations—that ethod for hich Cage is perhaps best knon.   But a third, broader and ore lasting inuence on Cage ay actually have coe through Christian fro his parents. Cage had pursued a European artistic lineage by studying ith Schoenberg on the West Coast. But Cage found in the  Wolffs  W olffs an entrée into both the Old and Ne World intelligentsias, one for hich his friendship ith the proprietors of Pantheon Books as the best credential.

 

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Kurt and Helen invited Cage to dinners and parties, hose guests included Alan  Watts,  W atts, Josep Joseph h Cap Capbell, bell, and other auth authors ors publ published ished by Panth Pantheon. eon. Alrea Already dy soe soe-thing of a polyath, Cage eagerly ebraced this heady copany and referred

17

to their orks and ideas for decades thereafter. As early as 1954 Cage rote to Helen Wolff of “y love for you and a sense of responsibility to you and to Mr.  Wolff  W olff (through (through y relation to Christian) fro hich hich I a not free. free.””   Christian, though, as too young to enter Cage’ Cage’ss social circle fully fully,, the older art crod that lingered linge red in long, l ong, nightly discussions dis cussions at the Cedar Ced ar Tavern. Tavern. (“Well, (“Well, I ight tag along,” Wolff said, “but hen it as suppertie I . . . had to negotiate it at hoe.”) Still, he kne ho hard Cage and Feldan struggled as coposers to pay the bills. He decided not to attept, like the, a career as a coposer. If Wolff had iicked Cage in attitudes and ethods, he rejected the hand-toouth existence that seeed to nourish Cage’s onastic approach to craft. And  hile Wolff’ Wolff’ss parents exeplied to Christian a stolid self-reliance, their pragatis tepered any of the speculative adventurousness adventurou sness Cage prized. So in Septeber 1951, Christian enrolled at Harvard, here his bookishness led hi into classics, a eld suitably esoteric, yet bankable as an acadeic career. But by then his reputation repu tation as a Ne York York School hero as already al ready xed. xed . Years later, lat er, Feldan  ould characterize characterize the young scholar scholar of Greek and Latin ith ith his on classical classical etaphor: Wolff, this inventive and prescient coposer in their idst, had been “Orpheus in tennis sneakers.”

 

 

Situations Situati ons of Too Extreme



Difculty: Difcul ty: 1951–1959

Boston sleepy and sedate— a perfect place to study the canon of dead languages, but less apt for radical experients in sound. Harvard itself as notoriously conservative, not only in its social habits and politics but in its cultural life. Music coposition on capus  as staid, staid, though avid, avid, its thriving thriving acadeic acadeic progra progra overseen by Walter Piston and Randall Thopson, both einent coposers ith Old World regard for for, coherence, and balance. Although they guided their t heir students (ho included include d Leonard Bernstein and then neoclassicist Elliott Carter) into the odernis of Stravinsky, Bartok, Hindeith, and even Schoenberg, Piston spurned Cage and his ilk—ore puzzled than disissive, he found the experientalists experientali sts ausing but artistically arginal. Understandably, Wolff shied aay.   But he continued to copose. Fro the tie he entered Harvard in 1951 until he enlisted in the ary in 1959, all but one of Wolff’s surviving copositions ere piano pieces—seven orks in hich he oved fro Cageian gauts and prepared piano to utterly ne congurations of usical aterials and coposer-perforer relationships, though still generally ithin Cageian overall fors. To rite for f or piano—Wolff’s piano—Wolff’s on instruent—fost inst ruent—fostered ered innovation inno vation and evolution, since since it relieved hi of the need to anipulate instruental tibres: the piano becae, in effect, a liited color gaut ithin hich to explore pitch and  aff t er m a nh at ta n , wol  a w ol f f f ou nd

 

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| Situat Situations ions o Too Extreme Difcult Difculty: y: 1951–1959

rhyth. At the sae tie, he had not only hiself as a potential player, but also Cage and, ore iportant, Cage’s friend David Tudor, hose superb technical skills, severe discipline, and zeal for the neest and opaquest usic had becoe

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the Ne York School s virtuoso ace in the hole.  For or Prepared Piano in Piano  in the suer of 1951, at   Tudor bega began n play playing ing Wolff olff’’s  F Boulder, Colorado, in his rst full recital of Ne York York School orks. He becae the ork’s chapion for the next six years, playing it throughout the United or Prepared Piano Piano as States and Europe. F Europe.  For  as the ost iediately appealing of  Wolff’’s teenag  Wolff teenagee orks for its delicacy, exoticis, exotici s, and allusive allusiveness. ness. At Tudor’ udor’ss no legendary Cherry Lane Theatre perforance in Ne York City, January 1, 1952, the piece sat alongside assive orks of Boulez, Cage, and Feldan (the three coposers ho had bonded ith Wolff to coplete a joint set of essays explaining their respective usical “researches”). “researches”). The  The New  New York Times  revieer  revieer understandably found Wolff’s sall set—darfed by the usic that surrounded it on the progra—perhaps the ost charing on the progra: they ere “quite attractive. . . . brief and istful, and lonely in their effect. It as like listening to rain dripping fro an eave and splashing and dropping and clanking as it fell on different objects.”   In the eeks folloing that Boulder recital, Wolff rote a ne piece he titled  For Piano I. It  For I. It contained only nine pitches (D #1, E2, F #2, F#3, G #4, G5, C #6, G #6, B b7), thirteen durations, and nine dynaics, all recongured in often brutally difdif cult ays. In one instance, one has to play a chord spanning over four octaves  ith different attacks, durations, and dynaics: that is—using actual fractional  values of durations—a sixth note B b6 (at ff ), a sixth note C #6 (at p), a fth note G #4 (at f ), and an eighth note F #2 (at ppp). What occasioned such nonrecurrent cobinations as Wolff Wolff’’s use of a gaut of sixteen different di fferent densities, de nsities, a “density” being dened by the nuber of pitches sounded anyhere ithin a given space. For exaple, the rst density consisted of three pitches sounded ithin a space of nineteen sixteenth notes; the second density, seven pitches ithin the space of no pitches three eighth notes; the third density no  pitches sounded ithin the space of seven eighth notes; and so forth. These densities could also be superiposed, alloing the saller one to occur anyhere ithin the space of the larger one. The sequence and superiposition of densities, though, ere deterined by chance procedures.  For or Piano II, hich II, hich   A year later, Wolff produced that piece’ piece’ss unlikely sequel, sequel, F used all eighty-eight eight y-eight keys k eys of the piano—Wolff’s piano—Wolff’s response to t o Boulez’s Boulez’s critique of his restricted-pitch technique—ith technique—ith tepi exible (ithin given liits) and dynaics (except for a fe) chosen by the perforer. The piece unfolds in four parts

 

that ove gradually fro intuitive hyperchroatic gestures toard increasing logic and order: The rst part has no discernible ethod, siply the free use of any pitches scattered around the keyboard. Folloing a brief pause, the second part continues this seeingly haphazard unfolding, bringing in all the reaining

pitches. The third part (ith no pause preceding it) features ve xed “scales” of thirteen or fourteen pitches apiece and a xed nuber of rhyths and rhythic structures; after another pause, as beteen oveents, the fourth part continues the rigors of the third. Wolff used the top and botto notes of the keyboard only once each, and others ore, often ultiple ties in close succession, giving eeting hints of the staticity of his earlier orks. Still, the effect is of a ferocious pointillis, ildly traversing the keyboard in ays he had not previously attepted. Dozens of this piece’s siultaneities require gynastic hand deployent (as in the sixth easure, e asure, hich called for B2, E4, and and B b5 to be played essentially together hile one hand holds a long D #4 that had been attacked aid an even ore iprobably dispersed set of pitches pit ches in the previous easure, including a siultaneous attack of C #4 and F7).   Tudor learned the piece, drove up to Harvard ith Cage and preiered it at the April 1953 Festival of Harvard Coposers—here it protruded sharply fro an otherise ore progra student orks—and kept thealost piece in his repertoire forconventional the next three years, of perforing it in recitals that, York Times disissed as “hollo, sha, pretentious Greenpredictably, the New the New York  ich Village exhibitionis. exhibitionis.””   Meanhile, Wolff olff’’s copositional output sloed in 1954, ith only one ork, the Suite for Prepared Piano (again, for Tudor), cobining the exotic sonorities  For or Prepared Piano ith Piano ith the ore jagged rhetoric of F or Piano II. During II.  During the of F of of  For 1954–55 school year, Wolff focused on copleting his honors progra in Classics (i.e., Greek and Latin), barely cracking the Harvard usic scene but aking the occasional foray to Ne York and a suer trip to Europe though avoiding France, fearing he could, by his birth status, be inducted into the French ary.   The year 1955 proved a culination for Wolff and his faily faily.. In the spring of rom the Sea. By Sea. By that year Pantheon published Anne Morro Lindbergh’s A Lindbergh’s A Git rom the end of the year it had sold ore than 600,000 copies in the United States State s alone, draatically lifting Kurt and Helen’s prestige and bargaining poer po er.. Graduating that spring fro Harvard ith a agna cu laude bachelor’s degree, Christian also received Harvard’s Richardson Prize, a Woodro Wilson Felloship, and a Fulbright scholarship scholarship to study language and literature at the University of Florence for the 1955–56 school year. On the boat to Italy that suer, he sketched ideas for a ne piano duo and also befriended the young coposer Richard

 

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 Maxeld,   a fello traveler then on his ay fro studies ith Milton Babbitt to  ork ith telve-tone coposer Luigi Dallapiccola. Whatever Wolff Wolff learned le arned of literature in Florence as overshadoed by usical adventures—a trip to Cologne, for exaple, here he visited the loquacious Karlheinz Stockhausen,

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 ho played Wolff three hours hours of recordings of of ne European European usic, ostly his on. (Wolff (Wolff’’s reputation reputat ion had preceded pre ceded hi, though: though : Tudor Tudor had ritten ri tten to t o Stock Klavierstüc rstücke ke   hausen,, likening Feldan’ hausen Fe ldan’ss and Wolff Wolff’’s piano orks ork s to Stockhausen Stock hausen’’s Klavie in their “psychic status of great denition,” hich he considered the authentic “path,” hose “ore rigorous astery of aterial ateri al should reveal easily eas ily the higher  spiritual states.” ) In Florence, Fl orence, Wolff Wolff occasionally played his and Feldan’s Feldan’s piano usic for sall gatherings and discussed ith Maxeld hat Wolff considered Babbitt’s “absurd preoccupation ith pitches.” He also attepted coposing, though after ve onths had only about to inutes of a trio to sho for it. In  March 1956 Cage rote Wolff Wolff about a six-eek series of concerts he as planning for that May and June in Ne York—hat could Wolff send hi? Wolff  rote that he as as “fresh “fresh out of ideas. ideas.””   At the end of 1955 Feldan had ritten to Wolff and urged hi to “spread the gospel—rite articles and ait.” Wolff coplied ith the adonition via Stockhausen, ho asked an article Geran)suer about Webern his Reihe, Reihe, the ne journal, Die  theWolff housefor organ for the(in Darstadt courses,for a panEuropean usical curriculu touting the latest “researches” in coposition. In suer 1956, as Wolff headed hoe, he ade a stopover in Darstadt, here Feldan’ss teacher, Feldan’ teache r, Stefan Wolpe, Wolpe, and Tudor Tudor both bot h held forth, giving hasty surveys or Piano I  and F or Piano II. II.   of ne Aerican developents, including Wolff’s F Wolff’s  For   and  For  After Tudor Tudor played the pieces, a young Harvard student coposer and pianist, Frederic Rzeski, Rze ski, approached Wolff, Wolff, introduced hiself, hise lf, and arranged to pursue purs ue coon interests in experiental e xperiental usic back at Harvard, here Rzeski, though he considered Randall Thopson his best teacher, as also knon as the rst person to acquire the latest radical scores (even before the university library).   In the fall, Rzeski introduced Wolff to a younger friend, David Behran, no president of the Harvard undergraduate usic club. That gave Behran and, in turn, Rzeski and Wolff, rent-free access to Paine Hall for recitals. They scheduled a joint perforance of experiental usic for the spring seester.   But Wolff, no beginning a graduate progra in coparative literatur literature, e, had acquired a teaching assistantship ith a assive load. For just one of the to classes he taught in spring seester, for exaple, he had to teach Don Quixote, Gulliver’s Travels, Travels, Tom Jones, Great Expect Expectations, ations, Moby-Dick, Moby-Dick, and Peace—  and War and Peace— all, of course, ajor orks outside of the canon of his undergraduate studies. He

 

had little tie to copose, at least not the kind of elaborate, precisely notated scores he had already produced. The question he faced then as ho to achieve an elaborate post-Webernesque usical surface that as structured and had a sheen of virtuosic intensity but did not require labored coposition, let alone

practice, of the intricate rhyths and coplex chords he favored. He decided to ove toard soe kind of indeterinate notation notat ion in a ne piano duo that alloed hiself and Rzeski latitude, not iprovisation iprovisati on per se (ith hich they had little experience), but hich freed the fro the dictates of a rigorously deterinate score. At the sae tie, an ingrained desire desi re to break ne ground ith it h each ork ipelled Wolff to devise notations different fro any he had yet seen.   In 1950 Feldan had ritten the rst of his Projections  pieces,  pieces, hich began several years of “box notation,” in hich pitch as governed only by register (high/iddle/lo)) and intensity left copletely indeterinate. Soe of the pieces (high/iddle/lo olio set Earle Bron assebled into his F his  Folio  set (1952–53) consisted of notations that soeties differed little fro local visual artists’ pen-and-ink draings. In a ay Bron had reached the very heart of the notational conundru: conundru: hat is the connection beteen sight and sound in the aking of usic? So long as the visual stiuli provoke an interesting aural result, Bron iplicitly ansered, the score, even if indeterinate in all paraeters, still succeeds.   Hoever prescient he as in experientalist construction of aterials, though, Wolff had resisted experients expe rients ith notation. notat ion. Except for his three-voice  Madrigals  (1950), piece Madrigals  piece  (1950), hich notated rhyth strictly but left pitch only relative,  Wolff  W olff used only standard scoring techniques before 1957. In that year, for the prospective spring-seester, Wolff constructed a piece as he often had before, using sall collections of pitches and clock-tie scheatics, all coupled ith the extended techniques of the Coell-Cage tradition, playing directly on the strings—haronics, plucking, uting, and inserting preparations. Also, as one had coe to expect in his scores, Wolff built substantial silences into each part, silences that, as in eighteenth-century counterpoint, the other player ould likely ll. But Wolff ent on to set up possibilities possib ilities fro hich players play ers had to choose in the course of playing. So, for exaple, one ight have ve seconds to play to pitches fro a given collection. One could play the in either order, siultaneously, hold the for different durations, and so forth. fo rth. This as, in concept, hat he had done in deterinate fashion in his rst pieces (and not far fro hat one could choose to do in the box-notation pieces of Feldan).   For this piece, no discarded, Wolff developed a ratio syste of notation that notes, one  ould characterize his next fe pieces. Rather than notes,  one ight call these neumes, signs inscriptions neumes,  signs for actions to take place but not specic sounds to be

 

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ade. These earliest earli est neues in hat ould ou ld becoe Wolff Wolff’’s distinctive distinctiv e scores e call ratio neues: each action has a nueric ratio. The rst nuber in the ratio refers to a duration in seconds. The second nuber nuber in the ratio refers to ho any of a given group of pitches (or pitches chosen ad lib by the perforer) to play.

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 Modications to the nubers (various letters and brackets) tell ho to odify  Modications the pitches (e.g., transpose, prepare the strings) or the playing (i.e., inside-thepiano techniques).   Wolff as delighted at the result: “It ade a usic that, as far as sound  ent, as just as as intricate and interesting interesting as the stuff that e ere aking aking hen hen  e rote everythi everything ng out. This as a revelation. An enorous aount of this labor-intensive process of aking every single note, every notation and so forth,  hich ould take eeks or onths, onths, suddenly in tenty-four tenty-four hours e e had ade a piece hich orked like this, and hich . . . as iediately available for perforance.” W  Wolff olff as dran to the efciency of the process but also to the sense sens e of controlled iprovisation to hich it led. It as not free, really, but rather a dialogue beteen to equally equipped equi pped players ho ould respond to each other  ith choices choices necessarily necessarily conditioned by hat hat the other played. played. And that that interacinteraction enlivened the piece perhaps ore than if the parts had been carefully constructed and strictly dictated to the players by the coposer. In this piece, Wolff had reconciled ith his early interest in Dixieland jazz—not overtly, he says, but subliinally. “It’s like a chord chart,” he said, a “funny version of a chord chart.  And you do riffs riffs over it, ith that aterial. aterial.””   That piano duo becae the prototyp prototypee for Wolff olff’’s next four pieces, each for one or ore pianos, each ith verbal instructions longer than the one preceding it, and all scored ith ratio neues. The rst of these pieces as probably the Sonata for Three Pianos, preiered in April 1957.  Asked to rite for a concert of ultiple piano orks, Wolff devised this relatively siple ork, ith no score but three individual piano parts, not coordinated except that durations ust be folloed strictly enough (preferably using stopatches) that the players proceed at the sae pace and end at the sae tie. The Sonata used a kind of baseline notation, derived fro the earlier prototype, on hich all later orks of this type  ould elabora elaborate: te: siple ratios denotin denotingg tie on the left and nube nuberr of sounds on the right, pitch collections fro hich to choose, preparations for certain notes carefully specied, and a fe dynaics scattered throughout. As ith all of the ratio-neue pieces, the tiny fractional tie values could be extraordinarily difcult to anage. But there as no inside-the-piano playing in the sonata, nor as there any cuing aong players. Although strikingly ne, even in the experien-

 

tal context of this recital, Wolff disliked the sonata and spoke to Feldan about revising it. Feldan suggested he just proceed differently in his next piece.   That piece, Duo for Pianists 1, again had no full score, only a part for each player. The notation resebled rese bled that of the sonata sonat a but no prescribed soe silences (i.e., ith a “0” on the right of the ratio sign), alloed for soe ad lib octave oct ave trans-

positions, and occasionally called for playing inside the piano. Preparations ere no longer prescribed; rather, each perforer chose to different preparations to be assigned to t o notes ore or less le ss ad lib. Although Wolff Wolff had the parts part s ready only a eek before the concert, Tudor and Cage preiered it at Harvard, ten days before Christas 1957. As it turned out, both perforers ended up translating the ne notation into “noral” notation on regular score paper, aking the various choices ahead of the perforance and then practicing the in a relatively con ventional ay. ay. “The ore choices [Wolff] [Wolff] offered,” offered,” Tudor explained, “the ore it as necessary to rite it out. . . . When you have tenty-four different pitches  you can choose choose fro and it doesn’ doesn’tt ake any difference difference to hi hat hat they are— the point is, it akes a difference to you. to  you. It’s  It’s a possibility that he didn’t think of, that it ould ake a difference to the perforer.”   There is no ay (and perhaps no need) to tell ho “accurate” that preiere perforance as. But e can deduce the general gene ral effect of the piece. As ith other  Wolff  W olff pieces, the gestures echoed Webern’ ebern’ss pithines pithinesss and understa understateent. teent. Yet the ne notation gave the piece a particular character, entally focused yet playful. It provided a solid anser to Darstadt serialis, hich had begun to produce highly deterinate, ultraorganized scores that Wolff thought aesthetically dead. His intent, born of the exigencies of graduate ork in another discipline, as to ake a score that ould be less text than pretext for usical conversation, yet  ith a clear clear affection for the atoized atoized sonorities he adired in Webern.   The Duo for Pianists 1, like the to pieces before it, energized Wolff. He had no learned to rite pieces that ere about usic aking, not “usic” (and certainly not pitch, hich Boulez insisted as the ost iportant eleent of usic). In the duo, Wolff effectively deoted pitch in the hierarchy of usical  values by alloing players to choose pitches fro groups he gave the.  The quality of surprise that gives pleasure to repeated perforances of a ork had gron treendously through his ne notation. Still, these orks raised questions. Soe ere practical. Ho could one accurately execute the coplex tie lengths? (Cage and Tudor had used stopatches in perforance to aintain at least a seblance of synchronicity.) Ho should a perforer judiciously ake decisions about pitch, register, and various special effects? Other questions ere 25

 

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ore philosophical. What is the identity of the piece? Ho far can one rely on perforers’ good faith hen one leaves the so any choices? As it turned out, the difculty of these questions only added to the sense of ystery yster y that tantalized  Wolff  W olff and his his Ne York School colleagues.   Wolff expanded on these questions in the Duo for Pianists II II  (1958). In this

 ork for unprepa unprepared red pianos pianos,, Wolff for the rst tie alloed for a “0” to be placed on the let  side   side of a ratio, eaning any aount of tie or even no aount of tie. He also conceded that soe tones could extend beyond their given tie.  Most iportant, the coordination coordination of events in Duo II depended on elaborately described cues, the idea of hich, Wolff explained, derived partly fro Indian usical “gaes” in hich players ust listen to each other to deterine hat to play next.   Here is a siple explanation of ho these cues ork. Placed in a circle before alost every section of events e vents is a particular type of sound (e.g., “high ff ”). Whatever type a player last heard perfored by the other player dictates hich section or sections to play next. Thus, hen player 1 hears a high, very loud pitch played by player 2, he or she ust play a passage arked ith that cue (“high ff ”) on his or her score. That eans eans that not only ust each player be prepared pre pared to go to any portion of the piece based on choices the other akes, but also that the piece had no xed length: cues keep propelling it forard, ad innitu. In this ork, cues alays truped tie, because the playing, Wolff said, had to reain continuous and there as no cue for ending. It as a kind of Möbius strip of aterial, ith the ending delegated either to the perforers’ prearrangeent of approxiate clock-tie length le ngth or their ad lib decision de cision to stop. Thus the piece shifted the t he usic’s usic’s preises even further aay fro sound or even tie—heretofore tie—heretofo re the foundation of Wolff’s usical structuring—into the real of relationships.   It as perhaps inevitable that such a piece ould be both overrehearsed and underrehearsed. On one hand a player had to prepare for any possibilities, any contingencies beyond those an ordinary perforance deanded. There as no xed set of deands to hich one ust reain true. That situation required preparation above and beyond be yond “noral” rehearsal. On the other hand, one siply could not prepare for as any possibilities as one ight encounter or rehearse any one of the as any ties as one ould need to accoodate any contingency.  The tension that ensues seeed unnerving—or perhaps nerving  in  in the sense that each player in the Duo II had to be fully present in the oent of perforance. One could not “lose oneself” in the piece but only stay alert for the piece’s constant utations.

 

  When Cage and Tudor preiered it at Darstadt in Septeber 1958 (alongside Duo 1, both pieces in ultiple versions), versi ons), any listeners found the piece pie ce boring, Cage said. But he felt it accoplished a higher intellectual ai than sonic pleasure or ental play. In it, Cage said, “a thing hich is difcult to rationally conceive takes place, naely zero tie.” “Have you ever noticed ho you read

a nespaper? Juping around, leaving articles unread, or only partially read, turning here and there. Not at all the ay one reads Bach in public, but precisely the ay one reads in public Duo II or Pianists  by  by Christian Wolff.” Wolff.” In that ork Cage believed his forer student had oved usic’s substance fro object to process. Duo II as “evidently not a tie-object, but rather a process the beginning and ending of hich are irrelevant to its nature.”  “You see,” said Cage, “if object, then usic is conceived as an object,  then it has a beginning, iddle, and end, and one can feel rather condent hen he akes easureents of the tie. But hen [usic] is process  is process  [as  [as in Duo II], those easureents becoe less les s eaningful, and the process itself, involving if it happened to, the idea of Zero Tie (that is to say no tie at all), becoes ysterious and therefore einently useful.” Cage later explained such “usefulness” by by suggesting that only ystery akes art truly useful for changing one’s thinking, hich as art’s ideal purpose.   Although Wolff avoided conscription in France, by the spring of 1959 he could no longer do so in the United States, not because he as ineligible for deferent, but because he had forgotten to send the draft board his annual student exeption papers on tie. So in the spring of 1959, claiing conscientious objector status, he entered the t he service as a noncobatant. On 11 June 1959 Wolff Wolff began his ary service, arriving at Fort Sa Houston in San Antonio for training as a edic. DurDuring that onth and the next he copleted the next piece in his evolving cycle of or Pianist, Pianist, W piano orks. Though he generically titled it F it For  Wolff olff specically eant it for Tudor, not only to challenge the virtuoso, but in fact to disrupt his noral  orking  ork ing etho ethods. ds. Tudor ala alays ys resco rescored red indet indeteri erinate nate piece piecess in order to prac practice tice the. This piece ould frustrate such attepts.   As ith the to duos, Wolff used ratio notation and inside-t inside-the-piano he-piano playing (ithout preparations). prepar ations). But any aspects ere ne. Soe pitch choices ere no copletely open—that is, ith no arrays of notes fro hich to choose.  Wolff  W olff for the rst tie included feratas. And the pages ay be played in any order (an idea Wolff borroed fro pieces by Bron and Stockhausen). What ay be ost striking (and daunting) ne aspect of the piece is the reaking of the to hands into a veritable “duo,” functioning soehat independently, ith hand-crossings being choreographed diagraatically. Wolff adapted the cuing 27

 

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| Situat Situations ions o Too Extreme Difcult Difculty: y: 1951–1959

technique of Duo II to a solo perforer: the player had to respond to cues created by the possible outcoes of hat the player already attepted—ho long or loudly a struck note sounded, hether a haronic as accurately played, and so on. Different outcoes required the player to play different responses. This created a ne kind of virtuosity for the ethodical Tudor. He had to attept a hyperconsciousness of each oent, yet reacting not to another player’s choices

but to the unforeseen consequences of his on. In this ay, the piece continued in a deepening track for Wolff: the usic as less about the sounds it produced than thelater ethod of executing piece as  T  Tudor udorabout ould confess. “But the the. usic “That usic as beautiful. beauti ful.” ” terribly frustrating,”   The culination of Wolff olff’’s ratio-neue notation cae in his next ork, a  Music or Six chaber piece ritten during his rst suer as an enlisted an: an: Music or Seven Players  (also Cunningham).   (also knon siply as Music as  Music or Merce Cunningham ). This as his second ork for Cunningha, director of Ne York’s preiere experiental dance copany, for hich Wolff ould rite interittently over the next six decades. Wolff had et Cunningha shortly after eeting his partner, Cage, in 1950 and received a coission—his rst—fro Cunningha in 1952. That Tape I, on I,  on resulted in his one nonpiano piece of that period, Music period,  Music or Magnetic Tape  hich Wolff Wolff had collaborated ith Ted Ted Schulz, an engineering student at Har vard, gathering and and recording recording sounds, sounds, and then fully notating notating the into a score,  ith sound sources and durations (in (in inches, at 15” per second) for each layer of sound. Cage, Bron, Tudor Tudor,, and others then t hen assebled the piece, cutting the tape fro the specied source and splicing it to the next sound source (or silence) for each of up to ve tracks, hich ere then overdubbed. Music overdubbed. Music or Magnetic Tape I   Chance, the rst ork in becae the basis for Cunningha’s dance titled Suite by Chance, the his repertory he had structured entirely using chance procedures (an idea he got fro Cage). The usic, though, disappointed Cunningha’s dancers. Carolyn Bron, Earle’s Earle’s ife, found Wolff Wolff’’s sounds relentles rel entlessly sly harsh, noting that t hat the rather rath er gentle young coposer hiself seeed disquieted at hat he had produced.   Though that piece felt abrasive to the dancers, in 1957 Cunningha choreographed Wolff’s Suite for Prepared Piano into an astonishing solo for hiself, hich he took on tour that year to great acclai. Cunningha gave Wolff a second coission in the spring of 1959, this tie for a tenty-ve-inute chaber ork, hose tie divisions—fro fteen to ninety seconds apiece— Cunningha orked out and sent to Wolff. Wolff essentially patched the ork together during free tie at the ary base, sending segents and instructions to Cage and Cunningha along the ay—including the direction that Tudor or Pianist  Pianist  as should use soe of F of For  as a solo section in the ne ork. But in this ork

 

the coplexity of ratio-neue notation began to reach a point of diinishing returns. Rzeski, ho had spent the previous school year as a student of Milton Babbitt at Princeton, iediately got to study the t he ne piece fro his ne post as Cunningha’ss rehearsal Cunningha’ rehears al pianist. He as blunt bl unt about the probles he sa: Wolff Wolff  1 had “created situations of too extree difculty—e.g.  6 :2 :2 ith 40 or 50 possithink, but bilities—so that the fact that there is no tie to think,  but only tie to perfor ″ 

echanical operations, not only akes any freedo for the perforer in such cases ipossible, but but also akes the liberties you allo hi superuous & therefore vain,“possibilities” since they cannot fullle fullled. d. (Otherise looks beautiful).” beautifu l).” added that the “possibi lities” Wolffbehad Wolff propos proposed ed ith anyitneue “in reality realit y .He . . do not exist: only one possibility exists, naely that hich the perforer has learned by rote.” He continued in a subsequent letter to critique the resultant sounds of these recent scores. Having heard Music heard Music or Six or Seven Players  (called Rune   (called Rune on  on Cunningha’ss dance progras) Cunningha’ p rogras) four ties thus t hus far, Rzeski rote Wolff: Wolff: “With each piece your usic becoes less plastic, ore like a bizarre geoetrical shape  hich is unrecognizable like a Moebius band, ore disturbing as a result.—& this piece is the ost disturbing.”  The frozen, constellationlike pointillis of  Webern  W ebern continued to resound in Wolff’ Wolff’ss usic, undoing, perhaps, perhaps, the sense of free play that delegating choices to perforers seeed bent on ensuring. As  Music or Magnetic Magnetic Tape I, Wolff I, Wolff also faced criticis for this as dance usic,  ith Music  ith though in at least one instance for reasons copletely opposite fro the earlier criticiss: it as not that the ne ork as harsh but that “the pointillistic  “the pointillistic  score  score of Christian Wolff so sparsely so sparsely sustained  sustained the pulse and breadth of the solo.”    British coposer and pianist Cornelius Carde played in the preiere of  Music or Six or Seven Players  as   as a concert ork in Cologne, January 1960. He  ould  oul d soon rite abou aboutt the great pro proise ise he found in the score’s seein seeingg “ipo “iposssibilities,” herein a player ight have to execute nuerous sounds or actions  ithin a fraction fraction of a second—or no no seconds at all (the “zero tie” that pleased Cage in Duo II). Wolff had ade a score that “is no longer a notation that one can read . . . . it ust be translated t ranslated into int o a notation,” often fro soe so e “ipossible” constraints. The proble as to deterine hich aong potentially conicting “rules” in the notation took precedence or hich ere binding, hich not.    Wolff’  W olff’ss call for the playing playing of three notes in zero in zero seconds,  seconds, for exaple—not just a fraction of a second—led Carde to reark that “groping for the ungraspab ungraspable le is the ost satisfying of odern pasties, here the satisfaction lies in the fact that satisfaction is ipossible.”   But the sense of liberati liberating ng process for hich Wolff ould becoe best knon had not yet arrived. As he rote to Cunningha in sending the parts to  Music

 

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| Situat Situations ions o Too Extreme Difcult Difculty: y: 1951–1959

 or Six or Seven Seven Players, Players, Wolff  Wolff as beginning to suspect that he had “lost sight of the conditions of perforance” perforance ” in his usic. It as aid his ne tea-oriented ilitary environs—hich fortuitously hapered his access to a piano—that Wolff Wolff decided to copletely revap his notational practice in order to allo for ore of the “possibilities” the ratio-neue pieces had ultiately obstructed. By the tie he nished his ilitary tour of duty, April 1961, his ne scores ould lean

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alost holly aay fro structure toard applied sociology.

 

 



Vast, Sparse Areas of Possibility: 1960–1969

 a lt h o u g h t r a i n e d a s a m e d i c  in

Texas, Wolff had been assigned in January 1960 to the Inforation Section of Headquarters, Seventh  Ary,, in Ne York, fro hich he as  Ary as shipped shipped out to Patch Patch Barracks, Stuttgart Vaihinge  V aihingen, n, Geran Geranyy, to becoe an instructo instructorr and adin adinistrative istrative assistan assistant, t, teaching ofcers and enlisted en ho to teach and anaging paperork for serviceen at all levels. The director of the schools, Burdette Stapley, ould later  rite gloingly gloingly of ho “cooperative, iaginative and highly highly intelligent in every respect” he found Wolff Wolff in planning, planning , teaching, and indeed being “the epitoe e pitoe of tact” in orking ith his ilitary students. At the sae tie, Wolff developed his usicianship through prose poleics and ne copositional strategies. Reihe Reihe published  ing fro In 1960 Stockhausen’ Stockhausen ’s Die of  published a second article by Wolff. Mova detailed discussion Cage’s square-root for, through suaries of usic by Earle Bron and Stockhausen, Wolff uses his on Duo II as a case study in “precise actions under various indeterinate inde terinate conditions.” conditi ons.” He explains ho for ight be detached fro older notions of “structure” and becoe siply “a theatrical event [hose] length itself ay be unpredictable.” In so doing, he calls into question the for-deterining character of a score. “The score akes no nished object, at best hopelessly fragile or brittle. There are only parts hich can be at once transparent and distinct.” 

 

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| Vast, Sparse Areas o Possibility: 1960–1969

  Around this tie Wolff began dropping ratio neues fro his scores in favor of hat e ight call coordination neues—lines ith circles attached, angled  variously to indicate indicate interactions interactions aong players. In the the Duet I (Deceber (Deceber 1960) for piano 4 hands, his rst ork to use this notation, to pages of score accopany or Pianis Pianist, t, W three pages of explanation. As in F in For  Wolff olff uses lettered pitch gauts fro  hich the perforer perforer ust ust choose, choose, species various inside-the-pian inside-the-piano o techniques, techniques, and governs the progress of the piece by cues. The to pages of the score should

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be played in order—or  order—or  only   only one of the to pages ay be played. Many pitches are given ith a threefold range of durations: lled notehead = shortest to medium square open notehead = medium to very long  ovular open notehead = any duration

 Meanhile, the eight different different coordination coordination neues include include sybols for attack as simultaneously as possible, but player 2 holds longer than 1 1 starts anytime, 2 plays as soon as possible after 1 releases 2 plays rst, then 1 and both release together

and so forth. In this ay ay,, Wolff continued continue d to develop devel op style traits t raits he had shon as early as his teenage violin duo, here different relationships relationships of starting and ending interacted ith the copulsive restriction of pitch. In this ne duet, strategies of listening and reacting trup pitch and rhyth as the fundaental structuring principles of the ork, hich has no iplicit duration, only the instruction to “end hen neither player ants to go on.” But on a larger level, the score deands the relearning of hat a “score” is. The rules are clear, painstakingly so, but so detailed and often intricate that they reseble rules one ight nd in sophisticated board gaes.   Wolff used variations of this kind of notation (ith occasional ratio neues added back in) in other scheatically notated and generically naed pieces ritten hile he served in the ary (through April 1961) and in the suer onths thereafter, during hich he attended the University of Munich: Suite II (horn and piano), Duet II (horn and piano), piano) , Trio II (piano (pi ano 4 hands, percussion), percussi on), Duo for  Violinist  Vio linist and Pianist, and nally nally,, the ost coplex coplex of the lot, lot, Summer  for  for string quartet (August (Augus t 1961). After that ork, Wolff ould take a year hiatus hi atus fro coposition hile he orked on his dissertation and taught again at Harvard.   Meanhile, he began to get his previous ork published and recorded. In Noveberr 1960, Walter Novebe Walter Hinrichsen Hinr ichsen of the C. C . F. F. Peters usic publishing publi shing copany ade a deal de al ith Wolff Wolff to publish all of Wolff Wolff’’s usic, an arrangeent arrang eent siilar si ilar to one Peters had just ade ith Cage. (At this tie, Cage had published his rst

 

Silence, in book of essays, Silence,  in hich he had naed Wolff proinently as a entor for his ideas.) What Peters had not bargained for as the difculty of engraving Wolff Wolff’’s ne notations. Eventually, Ev entually, offset versions ver sions of Wolff’s Wolff’s anuscripts anuscri pts and typed instructions proved the only feasible eans of publishing the. At the sae tie, the sall independent label Tie Records hired Earle Bron to produce a series of ne usic albus anthologizing the ost radical ne usic in Europe and the United States. The series, hich ran fro 1961 to 1963 (reissued on the

 Mainstrea label, 1970), 1970), included recordings recordings of orks by over over to dozen cocoposers, including Stockhausen, Luciano Berio, Henry Coell, Charles Ives, and Bron’ss Ne Bron’ Ne  York York School S chool peers—Cage p eers—Cage,, Feldan, and Wolff.   The next threshol threshold d in Wolff olff’’s experient experiental al evolutio evolution n cae in 1962, hen he began a to-year span of riting only pieces ith unspecied instruentaor 5 or 10 Players Players,, hose enseble could consist of any ve tion. The rst as F as For or ten perforers (nothing in beteen), each player using one of the ten score pages (or to of the ten in the version for ve players). Although instruentation reained open, the notation geared the choices aay fro instruents ith liited tibres because becaus e so any of this piece’s piece’s neues required tibral changes. change s.  The spare notation represented a ultivalent ultivalent syste in hich one had to learn ne rules for ho to construe siple arabic nuerals (in the sae ay that, in ore conventional notation, a “3” could represent a ngering, the top of a tie signature, or a triplet).   For a sense of the ork’ ork’ss deands (i.e., possibilit possibilities), ies), consider the rst page of its score, seen in gure 2. Each inverted U shape (hich e’ll call a cap for convenience) represents a sonic event. An event generally consists of to parts: event aterial (ho any sounds and hat kind) and event coordination (hen to begin and hen to end). The event aterial appears above the coordination aterial; a vertical bracket connecting capped events gives the player the option of executing either event. The rst things notated under each cap are pitch and tibre: a nuber in a box tells the nuber of pitches to be played; an unboxed nuber represents the nuber of tibres to be played; no boxed nuber eans only one pitch, no unboxed nuber eans only one tibre; an x in either position allos the player to choose. Thus (using letters e have added to g. 2) the page shos the folloing: A = 1 pitch, 4 timbres B = 1 pitch, 1 timbre C = 2 pitches, 3 timbres D = 1 pitch, 2 timbres E = 1 pitch, 1 timbre

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| Vast, Sparse Areas o Possibility: 1960–1969

Figure 2. The The rst page of the score to F to  For or 5 or 10 Players  (ith  (ith added letters for identications). Peters EP 6637. Used by perission of Peters Edition, Ltd. F = any number of pitches, 1 timbre or  1  1 pitch, 1 timbre G = 2 pitches, 4 timbres H = 1 pitch, 5 timbres or  1  1 pitch, 1 timbre I = 1 pitch, 1 timbre or  5  5 pitches from the set shown, 1 timbre

 The next level benea beneath th each cap sho shoss dyna dynaics, ics, ith anoth another er set of rules. On the loest level beneath each cap Wolff has coordination neues, hich sho ho any seconds before or after others sounds an event should be executed (as in earlier copositions for specied instruents). All the levels of notation for events suggest a coplex interlocking of actions and reactions to be learned le arned and planned. or 5 or 10 Players, Players, Wolff   After  For After F  Wolff rote his next three pieces ith siilarly  In Between Between Pieces  (1963),  For or 1, 2 or 3 free instruentatio instruentation: n: In  (1963), and 1964’s 1964’s Septet and and F People. The People.  The sketches for the latter, seen in gure 3, suggest ho uch Wolff had oved fro the hyperspecic tiings and pitch collections of his ork in the 1950s to a concern ith relationships beteen “people” (the shift fro “players” in the earlier ork’s title to “people” is instructive).  For or 5 or   The nished coposition strealine strealined d and siplied the scoring of of F 10 Players, aking Players, aking it easier to perfor and requiring less conscious “thinking”  hile playing, playing, see table table 1.

 

Figure 3. A page fro Wolff’s sketches for F for  For or 1, 2 or 3 People. People. W  Wolff olff Papers. Used by perission. 35

 

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| Vast, Sparse Areas o Possibility: 1960–1969

Comparison o Score Layout and Perormance Logistics in For 5 or 10 Players  Players  and For 1, 2 or 3 People For 5 or 10 Players 10 pages

5-person version: players can have either one page (1–5 or 6–10), two pages (a = 1&6, b = 2&7, c = 3&8, etc.), or each player gets a copy o all ten pages

For 1, 2 or 3 People 10 pages

The group chooses which page (or pages) to play. Each player has a copy o this page (or these pages). They all divide the events on the page(s) between members o

10-person version: each player gets one page unique to him or her, or two pages (a&b = 1&6, c&d = 2&7, etc.), or each player gets a copy o all ten pages.

the ensemble (i.e., players may not share events). Division is specifed or two players on page 7; they perorm the chosen page(s) together.

At any time during the course o a perormance, the entire ensemble, on cue, perorms all o the events on their pages in sequence, let to right. At other times, the players may play any events in any sequence rom their pages, unless the events themselves constrain order or repetition.

All events must be played, in any order, and may not be repeated. The exception is page 9, which allows omissions and repetitions.

Complicated coordinations, with many rules

The coordination neumes are simpler. Events do not use “caps” or brackets.

(Solo perormance is not an option)

The possibility o solo perormance presents unique challenges. Wol suggests coordination between events when possible, or coordination with environmental sounds.

Large numbers at the top o events: boxed number = number o pitches (i no boxed number, then one pitch)

Black numbers = number o pitches (no number given = 1)

Unboxed number = number o timbres (i no number, then one timbre)

Red numbers = number o timbres (no number given = 1) A number on a coordination line = that number o changes in some aspect(s) o the sound i black, or timbre i red, during the course o the coordination. A red 1 = a dierent timbre rom the immediately preceding one

  The saller nubers of personnel it required also ade it ore practical or 5 or 10, especially 10, especially since a solo perforer could execute it. and portable than F than For  The piece caught on, especially through Rzeski, ho had been living in Europe since 1963 and ounted perforances of F of For or 1, 2 or 3 in several countries, leading hi to rite Wolff in Noveber 1964 that his parts to the piece ere “already used up.”

 

 For or 1, 2 or 3, W 3, Wolff   During the tie he as coposing coposing F olff provided provide d a brief brie f but highly concentrated explanation of his otives otive s for such scoring. In an intervie Collage, W published in the Palero journal Collage,  Wolff olff explained that his philosophical ai as “to have ade soething hazardous ith hich e ay try ourselves, ourselv es,”” a kind of précis for the idea of “danger usic” that ould becoe a cause célèbre in soe experiental circles. His task as a coposer as to deploy “xed points” around hich perforers could ove. Wolff explained ho he arrived at such a task t ask in ters ter s that ere at once undane and radical. To To copose this

 ay as quicke quicker. r. It avoide avoided d redund redundancy ancy in perfo perforances rances.. It ade the usic better able to accoodate “interference” or “contingencies” in perforance. Perhaps ost iportant, the ne notation led to a psychosonoric effect in hich a listener could perceive “the sound of a player aking up his ind, or having to change it.” it .”   By the tie he rote rote F  For or 1, 2 or 3, 3, W  Wolff olff’’s acadeic and faily oorings had begun to shift. In January 1963, he subitted his 170-page dissertation dissert ation for the doctorate in coparative copar ative literature. lit erature. Titled “Aspects “Aspects of the Later Plays of Euripides,” Orestes, and  Iphegenia Among the Taurians, Taurians, folloed it as a close reading of Ion, of Ion, Orestes,  and Iphegenia  folloed by an explication of coon thees and otifs in the plays. But the introduction to the dissertation seeed to hint at aesthetic issues in Wolff’s usic. In the three plays Wolff found “a great variety of eleents and qualities often shifting abruptly, contrary, soeties violently opposed.” And in the chapters that folloed, he said, he ould explore ho Euripides’s plots “deonstrate the negation of intended actions.” Wolff’s usic, of course, had increasingly devolved on actions and reactions leading to unforeseen consequences consequences of subtle gestures. But hile his attitude toard Euripides hinted at aesthetic thees in his usic,  Wolff’  W olff’ss painstaking intellectual analysis reected the stringency of ethods by  hich he and and his Ne York School colleagues often often coposed.   Kurt Wolff often traveled to Europe to visit faily and scout for ne authors. In October 1963, as he as alking in Ludigsburg, Gerany, a tanker truck backed into hi, crushing hi against a all. He died three hours hou rs later. The publishing orld laented the loss of a literary pioneer hose Pantheon iprint had recently been sold to Rando House. Helen carried on as an editor e ditor in her on right, chapioning the ork of Karl Jaspers, Uberto Eco, Günter Grass, and other European authors via a ne job at Harcourt Brace. Her reputation gre so uch that by 1977 PEN ould aard her “For distinctive and continuous service to international letters, the freedo and dignity of riters and the free transission of the printed print ed ord across barriers of repression, repre ssion, poverty, poverty, ignorance and censorship.”

 

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  On 1 August 1965, Cage and Tudor drove Jasper Johns’ Johns’ss Jaguar to Veront for a special occasion: on that day, ith a ne assistant professorship at Harvard no in hand, Christian arried Hope (“Holly”) Nash at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Royalton. David Behran played a sall antique organ in the chapel.   The daughter of Ray Nash, a ell-knon art professor at Dartouth, Holly had et Christian in the classics progra at Harvard fro hich she had graduated sua cu laude (through Radcliffe) that June. She, like her ne husband, had gron up in a usical hoe, though one entrenched in folk usic, in hich

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her other, Hope, excelled. The next eek, Holly left Royalton, her hoeton, and helped Christian ove out of his Claverly Hall roo at Harvard and into an apartent in a odest old house on Sparks Street in Cabridge.   No,, as both a faily an and Harva No Harvard rd classi classics cs profe professor, ssor, Wolff olff’’s path diverged diverge d even further fro fr o that of his friends John and Morty Mort y. In a 1966 series of one-on-one radio discussions, discussions , Cage and Feldan took stock of their relationship to Wolff Wolff and his ork. Christian’s Christian’s early usic us ic particularly inspired Feldan, Fel dan, ho said that if he looked l ooked at his on usic fro fr o the 1950s, he found it “old hat”: “It’s “It’s

Figure 4. Holly Nash at her edding to Christian Wolff (ith Morton Feldan, left, behind her), 1 August 1965. Photographer unknon. Courtesy of Christian  Wolff.  W olff.

 

been around, it’s been digested by yself [as if] having a bone on a plate and you forgot that you ere cheing on it and you go back and you che on it again, you kno.” But if one picked up a piece that Wolff rote as teenager, one found that “there’s certainly nothing old hat about it. . . . the hole continuity of the ork, I ean, is just absolutely extraordinary. It’s not usty, you’re not opening up a tob.” One thing that kept Wolff’s usic fresh, Feldan added, as Christian’s relative aloofness fro the ne usic “scene,” hich alloed hi to rite piece after piece in logical steps ithout having to rite rit e sequels in his on presuptive

style. Feldan said, I don t think y pieces ould have been [old hat] if they  eren’t perfored, if they eren’  eren’t eren’tt out in the orld, so to speak.” Cage Cage agreed, adding that Wolff still had “that freedo that e have lost.” He ent on ith a kind of peroration: “I think that that quality of classicis that as in Webern and hich ade his usic useful for people ho anted to change their thinking about usic exists no in the ork of Christian Wolff. I found years ago that if one ere teaching usic and anted to provide a discipline for a student that rst one had to give up teaching harony, next one had to give up teaching counterpoint. No I think one ould have to give up teaching Webern. And I think you’d be at the present oent a fairly good teacher if you ould teach Christian Wolff[’ Wolff[’s] s] usic to a student.” Feldan heartily heartil y agreed: “I’ convinced conv inced 

that Christian is and have the place had of Webern in ters of athe ind.” a perormer    Up until then, Will olff as  had been knon only as pianist, hether playing his on usic, old-orld classics (in his youth), or novelties (as in the Cage-produced arathon preiere perforance of Satie’s Vexations  in  in Septeber 1963). But Holly incited a ne interest: the electric guitar. Nearly ten years  younger  youn ger than Chri Christia stian, n, she intro introduce duced d hi to the usi usicc of rock grou groups, ps, espec especiall iallyy British Invasion favorites like the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, and the  Who. Through their recordings he cae to see the electric guitar not so uch as the venerated six-stringed six-stri nged “queen of instruents” but as a highly exible—and portable—electronic portable—electr onic device. His fascination ith the instruent led hi to buy or 1, 2, or 3 that 3 that a lo-priced Fender, hich he played in a 1965 perforance of F of For also featured Cage on boed sa and Alvin Lucier on aplied boed cybal.  Electric Spring  pieces.  After that appearanc appearance, e, Wolff coposed his three three Electric  pieces. The notation of these chaber orks—his only copositions during 1966–67—foreshadoed uch of hat ould follo in the 1970s: all instruents and ost pitches  ere specied; durations ere as in his recent pieces, except that no eighth and sixteenth notes ere added to the repertoire of values; and there ere no coordination neues. Wolff played in the preieres of all three, ith Holly playing electric bass in one of the.

 

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| Vast, Sparse Areas o Possibility: 1960–1969   Since 1965, David Behran had been orking as a tape editor on the sing shift at Colubia Masterorks. In the suer of 1967, Behran asked his boss  John McClure’s McClure’s perission to produce soe of his friends’ usic for the label.  McClure  McCl ure agreed agreed,, if Behr Behran an could keep costs don don.. That Nove Noveber ber,, the Colu Colu-bia Records Group shocked Christas buyers by issuing as its entire preholiday classical release seventeen titles, all fro Behran’s Behran’s ne series or fro older odernists like Stravinsky, Webern, and Ives.  Aong the as the rst release of a  For or 1, 2, or 3 People People played  Wolff  W olff piece piece on a ajor ajor label: label: F  played as a solo by David Tudor Tudor on an oddly prepared organ. Suddenly, the usic of this obscure experiental-

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ist as being arketed by the largest record copany in the country. Within a onth the rst pressing of 1,500 copies had sold out.   But by then Wolff had left the States, taking a sabbatical fro Harvard during the 1967–68 school year to t o live ith it h Holly in London. Londo n. There, Wolff Wolff iediately Silence is  rote to Cage, Cage, “the paperback of Silence  is everyhere in the bookstore indos here, a kind of elcoe.” Although Europe had often sybolized to Cage and his circle a recalcitrant orthodoxy of post-Webern serialis, the European-bred  Wolff  W olff had alays been able to nd colleag colleagues ues there ho resonated to his brand of experientalis. Rzeski helped: he had lived in Berlin 1963–66 and then oved to Roe, here he helped found MEV (Musica Electronica Viva), an electronic iprovisational group. In England, that group irrored an acoustic-electronic iprovisational group called calle d AMM (hose initials had a secret eaning), a group consisting of Keith Ke ith Roe, Lou Gare, Eddie Prévost, Laurence Sheaff, and its latest addition, Cornelius Carde, the best-knon and perhaps ost energetic of the British experiental usic scene.   Wolff inevitabl inevitablyy gravitate gravitated d to Carde Carde,, ho since 1958 had been prograing, recording, and broadcasting perforances of Wolff’s copositions, then revieing and theorizing about the in British usical journals. Although the to en had et in Cologne in 1960, their professional relationship oered during Wolff’s sabbatical, resetting his usical career in several ays.  First, he began to iprovise in earnest, sitting in ith AMM, playing on a nely purchased hollo-body bass, often laid at on his lap like a keyboard, soeties boed or “prepared” ith objects stuck beteen the strings (as Keith Roe did ith his guitar). Generally, AMM played free iprovisations. But Carde soon began to translate his experiences ith AMM into notated scores. The The rst as Tiger’s Mind   (1967), a page of prose in to paragraphs (“Daypiece” and “Nightpiece”), hich narrated a ythical tiger’s interactions ith a tree, the ind, soeone naed  Ay,, and various  Ay various other other aspects aspects of his environent. environent. (W (Wolff olff interpreted interpreted “the tree” Compositions, essentially a at the ork’s preiere.) Its follo-up as Schooltime Compositions, essentially

 

collation of to dozen sketchy and suggestive pages of ildly diverse notations for a series of “tasks” (rarely specied as usical) that together constituted hat Carde called an opera, in the original eaning of the ord (“orks”). As ith Tiger’s Mind, W Mind, Wolff Compositions. He then olff perfored in i n the preiere pre iere of Schooltime Compositions. He  Edges.  rote his on on score for AMM: AMM: Edges.  Edges     Different fro any previous ork of his (and unique in his entire opus), opus), Edges  (for an undened nuber and type of players) consisted entirely of tenty-ve sybols scattered scatte red around a single page. The sybols, say the instructions, do not necessarily denote the sounds to be played as such, but rather “ark out a space

or spaces, indicate points, surfaces, routes or liits” around or ithin hich to play.. Yet each sybol play sy bol has its on denition: soe refer to relative relativ e height of pitch, soe to durations, soe to articulations, soe to coordinations, soe to sonic characters (e.g., “bupy,” “intricate”), and so forth. Typically, one plays hat each notation suggests once only, though in no xed xe d order. AMM preiered the  ork in May 1968, ith Wolff, Wolff, Rzeski, Michael Michael Parsons, Hoard Skepton, and John Tilbury also sitting in. Rzeski rote to Wolff that suer that Edges  that Edges    as “a beautiful piece, piece,”” though confessed that he hiself hiself had stayed ith a single notation (“in the iddle”) throughout the hole perforance. The folloing suer, Rzeski had his students playing the piece at one of the United States’s ost conservative and prestigious suer progras: Tangleood.  Edges  gre   If Edges  If  gre out of Wolff’s ork ith AMM, another ne genre of orks gre fro his guest lectureships in British art schools, hich ere at the tie ore or less the engines that propelled the countercultu counterculture re of the United Kingdo. These schools, ith their quirky ixtures of aesthetic and practical training for advanced high school or college students, proved ore open than usic departents to sonic experientation. The students had varying usical backgrounds; soe could read and play fro traditional notation, notat ion, but ost could not.  The students also had access to fe instruents, usually guitars and akeshift percussion. All had voices.   During lecturesh lectureships ips at art schools in Bath, Leiceste Leicesterr, and Winchester—the latter arranged by a free-spirited student naed Brian Eno—Wolff decided to involve students as perforers, riting sets of prose instructions fro hich even the least usically literate could ake sounds in an organized ay ith hatever eans ere available. Such prose scores ere indeed in the air, fro the terse  verbal directions directions of Fluxus Fluxus coposers coposers such as La Monte Monte Young, George Brecht, Brecht, and Yoko Yoko Ono in the early 1960s to t o the text pieces pie ces that Stockhausen Stockhau sen rote in the spring of 1968, the sae onths that Wolff Wolff as riting his. But hat distinguished dist inguished  Wolff’  W olff’ss piec pieces es as that they lack lacked ed the theat theatrica ricality lity of the Flux Fluxus us co coposit positions ions and

 

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  | Vast, Sparse Areas o Possibility: 1960–1969 the conceptualis of Stockhausen’s. Wolff’s text scores (later gathered together Collection) could be seen as the rules to sonic gaes. as part of his set called Prose Collection)  They specify certain sound-producing activities activities,, but never specic pitches or rhyths, except, soeties, in relation to others in the group.  Soe pieces call for (or allo for) instruental playing, but only such as could be played by anyone, trained or not. Scores dictated ays of playing and relative densities of sound, but little else. (The only “lyrics” appear in the pieces “Crazy Mad Love” and “Song,” “Song,” here the perforers vocalize phrases phr ases and naes for specied nubers of ties.) Overall these scores ight be described as exercises in folloing

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directions in a group—the nature of all enseble scoring, to be sure, but in this case containing, in icrocos, uch of Wolff Wolff’’s by no ell-establishe ell-established d intricacy of social relationships and utual responses in perforance. John Cage, hen he sa soe of the, said they ere distillati d istillations ons of hat had before been bee n fully, if indeterinately, indeteri nately, notated in Wolff Wolff’’s earlier scores. sco res. When ve of these pieces ere e re published together, Carde revieed the set for the Musical the Musical Times  ith  ith predictable exuberance: With the conviction that the light embodied in this music should be diffused dif fused throughout the world and its source obliged to continue shining, since great changes would be wrought by a widespread awareness of this new and timeless music—eg what’s rotten would disintegrate leaving our insight into Nature (including humanity) more penetrating and affectionate—a number of Wolff’s English admirers subscribed towards the printing of this collection. . . . Embedded in the prose like the jewels in a watch mechanism mechanism are traces of the beautifully exible musical notation that Wolff has evolved over the past 15 years, delineating vast, sparse areas of possibility with simple and articulate precision.13

But to Wolff Wolff personally pers onally,, Carde rote, “I can’t reeber hen he n I last heard such beautiful usic.”   Although Harvard as his ala ater and the hoe of any of his early usical exploits, Wolff had not had the opportunity to teach usic there. But ith so uch of his energy oing into his coposing, copos ing, he failed to rite and publish the kind of scholarly orks the classics departent deanded. So hen he returned fro England in the fall of 1968, he learned that his ve-year teaching contract  ith Harvard ould not be reneed. His British friends urged hi to consider a post in England. Cage suggested that Wesleyan, here he no taught, ight have an opening. But as 1969 began—just eeks before Christian and Holly’ Holly’ss rst child, Christian Mayhe (“He”), as born—a classics job opened up at Dartouth. When Wolff ent to intervie, his father-in-la introduced hi to Jon  Appleton. At the age of tenty-nine, Appleton had just been appointed appointed chair of

 

the usic departent and as charged ith iproving departent ’s national ipr oving the departent’ stature. Since Wolff still entertained the divided loyalties that cost hi the Har vard job, Larence Harvey Harvey,, associate associate dean of faculty faculty at Dartouth, Dartouth, arranged arranged to create a special appointent for Wolff in classics and usic, ith coparative literature—the eld of Wolff’s doctorate—thron in. But the school needed letters of recoendation re coendation before an ofcial hire. To To that end, avant-garde avant-gar de coposers fro Stockhausen Stockhaus en to Cage rote on Wolff Wolff’’s behalf. Understandably gloing, gl oing, Cage’s letter included this stateent: He is not known as a student of mine for the reason that I learned more from him than he

from me. . . . Through the association of David Tudor, Tudor, Morton Feldman, myself, and Christian Wolff, American music has developed to the point of shaping new music not only here but in the Orient and in Europe. This is generally acknowledged. It was because of this that last year I was made a member of the National Institute of Arts Ar ts and Letters. It is only my age that has brought it about that I am so distinguished: the truer state would be that such honors go to Christian Wolff. For of the four of us, I am certain that his work is the most regenerative of music.15

Dartouth hired Wolff and thereby at last codied the professional double life he had been leading for years: a scholar of old, canonized orks, ostly in dead languages, and aker of heterodox orks in nely invented languages.   Dartouth itself had started to diverge in its personality: aid conservative politics and old-oney society, it no pioneered coputer technology, electronic (and digital) sound synthesis, and progressive courses that included black studies, environental studies, Native Aerican studies, and oen’s studies. A strong anti–Vietna War faction began to gro aong the neer, younger faculty brought in to eet the groth of the student body no that oen ere being aditted. With Wolff’s appearance, the school ould suddenly have an experiental coposer coposer teaching usic in the Hopkins Center for the Arts and classics in Dartouth Hall.   But Wolff had to ait before he could start at his ne school. Because, despite having just been denied tenure at Harvard, he on in 1970 one of eight junior felloships at the Harvard-afliated Center for Hellenic Studies in Washington, D.C. In the fall of that year he oved ove d ith Holly and their to children—daughter childre n—daughter  Tasen  T asen had had been born born that April—to one one of the hoes for residents at the center. For nine onths he orked on to projects in Washington: a ne translaakles  (per tion and coentary for Euripides’ Her Euripides’ Herakles   (per a contract ith Prentice-Hall) and a study of Euripides’ Helen Euripides’ Helen (hich  (hich ould appear in a 1973 issue of Harvard of  Harvard Studies in Classical Philology). Philology). 43

 

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| Vast, Sparse Areas o Possibility: 1960–1969

Figure 5. Christian and son Mayhe in East Barnard, Veront, Veront, ca. 1971. Photographer unknon. Courtesy of Christian Wolff.

  In the suer of 1971, Holly’ Holly’ss father, Ray Nash, retired fro Dartouth as she, she , Christian, He H e,, and Tasen Tasen arrived ar rived in Hanover, Hanov er, Ne Hapshire. They bought the Nash hoe on Main Street, and Ray oved ith his ife, Hope, to their Royalton, Veront, Veront, far, here Holly had been born. Christian began be gan preparing for classes and copleting a large-scale ork naed for a hardy, tangled  eed: Burdocks.

 

 



Let Playing Be Composition and Composition Playing: 1969–1974

in june 1969, amid his negotiations  ith

Dartouth,  Wolff  W olff had received a letter fro John Tilbu Tilbury ry inviting hi to put oney into— and even join—a ne venture of Carde’s: the Scratch Orchestra, a quasi-anarchic group of trained and untrained usicians ho ould perfor iprovisatory ne pieces and ad hoc renditions of conventional old ones.  The group ould ebody Carde’s “ethics of iprovisation ip rovisation,,” hich sa iprovisation as a s a tool to develop virtue and strength through cooperation. “Training” (including “oral discipline”) ould replace “rehearsal,” so that preparing for perforance ould not be like preparing a play so uch as preparing to play a sport.  Beyond its idealis, the Scratch Orchestra had an air of novelty that enabled it to quickly Times, begin publish its constitution in the Musical the Musical Times,  begin booking concerts, and appear on radio and television ithin its rst year.   In late 1968, Carde had nished the rst portion of hat ould be a basic Learning, a assive seven-part setting score for the Scratch Orchestra: The Great Learning, a of the rst chapter of Confucius’ Con fucius’ss text by that nae. Its notation notati on varied ith each section, though ostly used conventional sybols, but ith soe less-deterinate sections and lots lot s of verbal directions. dire ctions. The title suarized hat Wolff Wolff and his artschool colleagues sa as the point of usic no: education via ne instructions. 45

 

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 Wolff explained this in a 1970 article that echoed both Carde’  Wolff Carde’ss “ethics” and Cage’s ebrace of all sounds. A composition (a score) is only material for performance: it must make possible the freedom and dignity of the performers; it should allow at any moment surprise, for all concerned, players, composer, listeners; it should allow both concentrat concentration, ion, precision in detail, and release, or collapse, virtuosity and doing things in the ordinary way. No sound, noise, interinter val, et cetera as such is preferable to any other sound, including those always around us, provided that (a) one is free to move away or towards it, and that (b) sounds are not used deliberately to compel feelings in others; let the listeners be just as free as the players.3

 As a venue for for these ideals, the Scratch Orchestra tantalized tantalized Wolff. Although he he

couldn t yet travel to hear the, in the suer of 1970, before heading for the Center for Hellenic Studies, he began a ne piece in the spirit of The Great Learning. That ing.  That ne piece—along ith a sall usic festival Wolff rst held in August 1969 on his father-in-la’s Veront far—he titled Burdocks.   Written ith the still-unheard Scratch Orchestra in ind, Burdocks  as   as for “one or ore orchestras”—though the ork’s perforance notes redened “orchestra” to ean as fe as ve players, yet alloed for as any as ten such orchestras to be playing at once. Sound sources ere free, except here specic sounds (e.g., pitches) ere needed. Its overall structure as open: no set nuber of oveents need be played, oveents could be played in succession, siultaneously or in any cobination of overlaps. At the sae tie, an elective political process undergirded the piece: players ere to “gather and decide” or “choose one or ore representatives to decide” hich sections to play and in hat order. In totality it coprised a copendiu of copositional possibilities Wolff had used before. But its patchork patc hork quality also bespoke bes poke Wolff Wolff’’s failial status: having h aving to young children in the hoe he no had to rite ore catch-as-catch-can,  jotting don fragents fragents and and keeping hiself hiself as interruptible interruptible as possible.   Each oveent of Burdocks  had   had a distinct identity based on ethods and techniques alays slightly—or hugely—different hugel y—different fro all others (* beside a nuber eans that it contains graphic notation notation along ith the verbal):   1. Five segents, priarily consisting of players responding to one another’ another’ss pitches, articulations and dynaics in various ays.   2.* Soehat loosely articulated block-chord segents. (W (Wolff olff thought of this as the “chorale” oveent.)   3. Each player akes ca. 511 sounds, each different in soe ay ay..   4. Each player plays 1–3 soft sounds, coordinating the ith every other player in succession.

 

5.* Six different ultispoked heels, ith different kinds of usical gestures   beteen each pair of spokes and different pathays fro heel to heel. (Perhaps the ost coplica coplicated ted oveent in its notation.)   6.* A repeatable, anthelike elody (built fro saller saller,, self-siilar fragents) ith accopaniental gestures. (The elody is the ost conventionally notated aterial in the set.)   7.* A graphic score that sees a radical splaying of the score of section 2 (above).   8.* 100 different short ideas, ost on cleess staves, and all to be played once only.   9. A oderately elaborate plan for having players respond to one another’ another’ss

sounds; a gradual acceleration to the conclusio conclusion. n.   10. A single conceptualis conceptualistt propt: “Flying, and possibly craling or sitting still.”   If the Scratch Orchestra provided an iaginary sonic and social odel for soe Burdocks, an of the perforative techniques of Burdocks,  an African eld recording inspired the ne ork’s heterophonic textures. In the spring of 1970, Canadian coposer Jack Behrens had invited inv ited Wolff Wolff for a brief residency r esidency at Sion Fraser University Uni versity in VanVan An Antho Anthology logy o Aric Arican an couver. In Behrens’s Behrens’s ofce, Wolff Wolff encountered encoun tered volue 3 of of An  Music,  Mus ic, part  part of the elegantly produced produce d UNESCO series of LPs featuring usic fro the Eastern Heisphere. This LP consisted of fteen tracks of Ba-Benzélé pygy usic: hunt songs, story-telling songs, laents, and entertainents, all ith free, unetered counterpoint and hocketing that soeties alternated beteen singing and histling. The sound provided a fresh sonic soni c odel. It also gave ga ve Wolff, Wolff, as a professor of coparative literature, literat ure, a usical foundation squarely outside outside the  the West West-ern canon. His usic could no be “traditional,” but fro a different tradition. Burdocks  as    as a threshold. t hreshold. It as Wolff’ Wolff’ss rst ork intended for a large enseense ble. It as his rst ultioveent ork in hich each oveent had distinctly different instructions on ho and hat to play. And it as his longest in actual (not just conceptual) perforance. With the Green Mountains as a backdrop, a sextet of Behran, Be hran, Rzeski, Tudor, Tudor, Gordon Mua, Wolff, Wolff, and his brother-inb rother-inla, John Nash, preiered ve oveents of Burdocks  at   at the second Burdock Festival in id-August id -August 1971 at the t he Nash far in Royalton, Royalt on, Veront. The quintet then traveled to Dartouth to record the oveents for a record to be issued on the Wergo label. A slightly different quintet (hich included Dartouth colleague Jon Appleton) played Burdocks  excerpts  excerpts the t he folloing January Januar y at Ne York York Universityy to a sall audience that included Cage and Cunningha, the latter of Universit 47

 

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| Let Playing Be Composition and Composition Playing 

Figure 6. The cover to the UNESCO recording that inuenced i nuenced Wolff Wolff in ideas of hocket and heterophony heterophony.. Courtesy of Brigha Young Young University Recording Archive.

Park. Meanhile, on 9 Septe ho soon used the piece piece for a ne dance, Borst Park. Meanhile, ber 1971, Carde had ritten to Wolff, apologizing for not being able to attend the V erontOrchestra, quasi preiere p reiere oftoBurdocks   but eather  but proising to progra orkinith the Veront Scratch in part help the soe groingthe dissent the enseble: “We have had assive upheavals & Burdocks ill bring us together again for lots of ork and pleasure.”   What ere those cryptic “upheavals”? In the suer of 1971, Carde had led a faction of the Scratch Orchestra in reading and discussing Mao’s lengthy three-decade-old Yenan Foru speech on proletarian art. The folloing January,, he and other Scratch ebers had becoe dogatic that the orchestra ary or chestra ust

 

shun the bourgeois trappings of the professional usical orld, including even its avant-garde fringes. When he prograed Burdocks  for  for the Scratch Orchestra’s next concert, the group angrily divided, ost hard-core Maoists nding Wolff’s piece “contentless,” lacking in political relevance and ass appeal. But Carde surprisingly defended the piece, insisting that they play Burdocks  and  and give the audience the right to decide its orth. After eeks of rangling, the group played it on 28 March 1972, giving Burdocks  its  its rst coplete, large-enseble realization. Indeed, they ade a hole evening event of it, ith over sixty people playing the ten sections not once but tice, introduced by Carde’s on political poleic (including the defense he had ade of the piece to his Maoist colleagues) and the to versions separated by a discussion and a fe songs. The second playing of

the piece included the younger orking class’s sonic foundation: electric guitars at rock-concert decibel levels.   Shortly before that perforance, Hans Keller of the BBC Music Section asked Carde to rite about John Cage for the  Listener  agazine   agazine to prepare readers for a series of Cage concerts planned for that suer. Carde turned in a savage indictent he titled “John Cage: Ghost or Monster?” Taking the title fro bourgeois types referred to in Mao’s Yenan Foru talks, Carde branded Cage an iperialist coposer purveying a usic ithout content. He analyzed (and ocked) pieces by Cage and ended his essay ith a challenge: “It ay not be all plain sailing, but there’s no reason hy [Cage] can’t shufe his feet over to the side of the people and learn to rite usic hich serves their struggles. struggles.””   When Carde sent Wolff a copy of the article, Christian and Holly discussed it for hours, aking notes on ho to respond to it. Carde’s poleic not only overreached, they concluded, but as “a odel of harshness” ith “distortions” and “over-siplications” throughout. Wolff Wolff aditted aditte d he as troubled trouble d by Cage’ C age’ss separation of politics polit ics fro “life.” But even in a Marxist orldvie, he found odels for brilliant individualis. Above all, Wolff anted “freedo”—including individual  freedo—as  freedo—as an ideal that usic could portray ithout text or vernacular affectations.   He nohad found hiself to choose beteen toential friends entors.  Whil  While e Cage taught Wolffhaving the unity of usic and experi experiential life,and Carde had fused political polit ical life to t o that unity. All three en e n had coe to adire adir e Mao’s Mao’s teachings. teaching s. But Cage resisted preaching the through usic. Carde, on the other hand, no took the so seriously that he began to reject his on earlier ork, the elitis of the th e avant-garde avant- garde generally, gen erally, and Wolff Wolff’’s entor in particular. particu lar. W  Wolff olff looked for a iddle path that honored both friends but alloed hi to ove decisively toard political usic, hich he as beginning to feel as an iperative.

 

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  Christian took until July to rite back to Carde. He thanked Carde for the Scratch Orchestra’s perforance of Burdocks  and  and for chapioning the piece despite its seeingly elitist origins. Wolff agreed that usic should be for the people, but cited Rzeski that th at “usic for the people is usic in hich the people participate.” If the title, text, or context of a piece held political essages, the usic could only be accopanient: he couldn’t iagine hat “revolutionary character” usic could have outside outs ide of that. He thought Carde’ Carde’ss attack on Cage “harsh” but also “harshly clear and so very useful.” Cage disappointed hi, he said, by attacking capitalis’s capitalis’s brutality in his prose hile donplaying potentially pote ntially political aspects of usic in favor of the erely social. Wolff liked Carde’s idea that one cannot straddle the question of politics—anything politics—any thing less than activis as

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obstructionis. But he questioned to of Carde s conclusions. First, ho can cause?? And second, did usic one be certain one has chosen the right political cause alays have to be, as Carde put it, “hard hitting and tough”? “Could it also be inltrating, insinuating, subversive?”   A eek after riting that letter, Wolff as in Europe lecturing at the center place of the elitist avant-garde coposition Carde denounced: Darstadt,  here on 28–30 28–30 July 1972 Wolff lectured in English and Geran Geran for to hours each afternoon. The rst U.S. coposer invited to speak there since Milton Babbitt in 1964, Wolff tread a ne line, prooting the inherent collectivis of his open scores, but not condening the high-art traditions that had nurtured his ork, traditions notably represented by Iannis Xenakis, ho preceded hi a  eek earlier at Darstadt; György Ligeti, ho spoke concurrently ith Wolff; Wolff; and Stockhausen, ho spoke the eek folloing. Still, to any at the suer school, Wolff’s relaxed outlook gave a ne freshness and openness, an antidote to the foralis and structural obsessiveness for hich the school had becoe knon, especially in the fourteen four teen years since s ince Cage and Tudor Tudor had appeared there the re and played pl ayed Wolff Wolff’’s duos. duos .   The copeting ideologies of Cage and Carde erupted at a perforanc perforancee of Burdocks  on  on Westdeu estdeutscher tscher Rundfunk Rundfu nk radio—Carde’ radio—Carde ’ss old eployer—hen eployer— hen both the Scratch Orchestra and John Cage ere scheduled for the cultural progra of the Munich Olypics at the end of August 1972. The Scratch Orchestra Orchestra played Burdocks  only  only after an introduction by Carde ith a Maoist attack on avant-garde “iperialis.” That irritated Cage, Feldan, and Tudor, ho also had an array of coplaints about the orchestra’s rendition, fro a general lack of energy to the reading of a poe in the last section. One portion of the perforance actually drove Feldan to his feet in protest. In Burdocks ’ fth section, as a response to the isolated nuber “7” in the score, Carole Finer chose to sing seven folk

 

songs ith a banjo. Feldan stood up and shouted it don on the grounds that this as “not the usic of Christian Wolff.”   A fe days later, Wolff told an intervie intervieer er fro Belgrade Televisi elevision on that he  as “at a “transitional point. point.”” He had had learned learned ho “to rite usic hich is availavailable for a nuber of perforers, hich allos allos the perforers to actively take part in the usic, be responsible for the usic, but hich does not abandon the.”  The ne question for hi as ho to cobine his political concerns ith his usic. “I cannot nd a solution to the social probles right no. I ould like to learn uch ore about the [and] I ould like to relate y usic to the as uch as possible.”   The intelle intellectual ctual path to that ish as subtle but perhaps inevitabl inevitable. e. Wolff olff’’s parents and any in the Washington Square counity in hich Wolff gre

up leaned toard the Left, though as a boy Christian kne little ore of politics fro the than that Deocrats ere preferable to Republicans. His parents ere antifascist, of course, but a fe of their friends sypathized ith the U.S. brand of Counis that the McCarthy hearings endeavored end eavored to uproot. “Bolshevis” had held up ideals that attracted any people ho ere born in and raised during the Depression. Aericans had even fought on the sae side as Russia in World  War  W ar II. But as the failures of Stalinis (and Stalin hiself) becae knon and the Cold War began to set in, U.S. Counis had to retrench.   Wolff had declared hiself a pacist in 1959. In the early 1960s, Wolff had soeties taught as a volunteer in Harle. In the id-1960s, as both the Soviet Union and the United States dug in their heels, Mao and the People’s Republic of China becae the ne odels for those dran to leftist ideals. As a university professor, even at conservative Harvard, Wolff encountered student rhetoric against the Vietna War and in favor of equality for oen and African Aericans. In acadeia, radical politics as turning into a sall but noisy orthodoxy. In usic, protest and cultural critique abounded in folk and rock. Even in classical usic, so ainstrea a odernist coposer as Luciano Berio had begun to question the social usefulness of this highly cultivated art for: in his bestselling Sinonia, one 1969 Colubia LP of Sinonia,  one heard a speaker in the third oveent passionately declare, “all this can’t stop the ars . . . can’t loer the price of bread.”   Just after his residency at Darstadt, Wolff got a coission fro Rzeski for a ne piano piece. Inspired by the one-an virtuosity and additive declaations of political text in Rzeski’s on pieces Coming Together  and Attica,  and Attica, Wolff’s  Wolff’s ne ork, Accompaniments, ork, Accompaniments, attepted  attepted to break fro the t he “overly introverted feeling in uch of y earlier usic” and counicate ore directly ith an uninitiated audience. Of the ork’s four sections, the second, third, and fourth ere

 

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instruent al only. instruental only. In the second and third, the pianist played fully ful ly notated angular elodies interspersed ith rhythic lines played on bass dru and high-hat cybal—a nod to cereonial Chinese usic. In the fourth the pianist discarded the percussion instruents for a long contrapuntal piano solo.   Only the rst section contained text. For that Wolff took a passage in praise of the Cultural Revolution fro the Pantheon Books edition of Jan Myrdal and Gun Kessle’s China: The Revolution Continued. He divided that passage into units of one to sixteen syllables each (soeties dividing ords). For each unit of text  Wolff  W olff ade a series series of sixteen four four-note -note chords, all subsets of a larger larger xed-pitch chord. With only a fe constraints on ho to coordinate beteen voice and piano, the perforer ould sing or chant each unit of text syllabically, accopanied by the designated chords for that unit. This resulted in a ritualized declaation declaation of

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narrative propaganda over a carefully structured but highly exible scaffolding,  ith each group of chords faintly echoing echoing the restricted-pitch haronies haronies of his earliest usic. Still, the sonorities ere less the point for Wolff than ere the discipline and “special alertness” that cae ith realizing the piece. In this case, the serious coitent needed to play Accompaniments  play Accompaniments  atched  atched the austerity of the text. Yet the virtuosity one needed undercut any pretense of proletarianis.  This as usic usic for a professional professional usician. usician.   Wolff olff’’s usical “transiti “transitional onal point” cae not so uch in Burdocks  or  or political intent, but in a ne approach to elody that began ith a series of piano pieces he rote r ote in 1969–70. 1969–7 0. Wolff had becoe acquainted acqua inted ith the th e ork of U.S. coposers Terry Terry Riley Ril ey,, Steve Reich, Rei ch, and Philip Glass. Gl ass. Their so-called inialist copositionss transgressed coon odernist rhetoric that relied on aperiodic coposition rhyths, angular disjunct elodies and rapidly utating harony, harony, usually hyperchroatic and lled ith constant variation and rapid rates of change—in other  ords, all thing thingss one found in Wolff’ olff’ss usic to that point. The ini inialists alists instea instead d favored pulse-oriented rhyths, pandiatonic harony, incessant repetitions of short ideas, and a very slo rate of haronic change. The sonic result lacked odernist ystery, preferring directness, approachability, and instant coprehension. If odernis had ebraced introversion, the ne style as extroverted, ext roverted, holding no secrets fro its listeners, ho it invited to let the static sonorities and kaleidoscopic counterpoint ash over the. Slo, subtle changes no constituted usical rhetoric.   Wolff began riting a series of responses to inialis, pieces in hich he focused on elody—not in the abstract sense in hich he had once said that all sounds end up, but in the ore conventional sense: strings of pitches conceived as lines oing through tie. In this ne transitional style, Wolff began ith a

 

Tilbury, after 1  set of pieces titled Tilbury,  after his and Carde’ Carde ’ss pianist friend frie nd John. In Tilbury 1  (1969), Wolff returned for the rst tie in fteen years to continuous staves across the page ith noteheads and rests rest s on a single staff (treble or any other clef, consistently aintained). The pitches cycled and perutated the sae fourteen pitches ithin the range of E3 to F4. In this sense the piece could be seen as an extrapolation of his earliest pieces, but ith a freedo of notation they had not used. There ere only iplicit rhythic specications specications (other than the rests) and the tepo could be odied ad lib. Ebellishents and transpositions ere elcoe. Optional notes appeared in parentheses. The dynaic as generally soft. 3 had a siilar score forat to Tilbury 1, 1, but its nota  The sequel, Tilbury 2 & 3 had tion as divisible into to different diffe rent realizations: realizati ons: “2” as for solo instruent, and 1 this score specied rhythic “3” as for ultiple instruents. Unlike Tilbury 1 this

 values (though not the coordinatio coordination n aong aong parts), the range as enorous, ith 1 hat, alost tenty years earlier, the lines no very disjunct. It as to Tilbury 1 hat,  For  F or Piano II  had or Piano I.  had been to F to For Tilbury pieces   If the Tilbury  pieces ere inspired by inialis, as Wolff suggests, they diverged fro that style in several ays: they ere not pulse-oriented; the clefs  ere indeterinate; they ere not diatonic; and they called for free ornaentation. A ore persuasive hoage to inialis cae in the early 1970 piece Snowdrop, the Snowdrop,  the rst coissioned coiss ioned ork Wolff Wolff had ritten ritte n in ten years. years . Scored for harpsichord “and (or) possibly other instruents,” the piece consisted ostly of runs of single- or double-bea double-beaed ed notes (ithout clefs) in various congurations that ere interrupted by frequent pauses. The patterning of these runs seeed as systeatic and coprehensive as soe of his earliest pieces: — one voice running up or down either conjunctly conjunctly,, disjunctly, or both — two voices running up or down—overlapp down—overlapping ing by various amounts and either in contrary or similar motion to the other—with either both conjunct, both disjunct, one conjunct the other disjunct, or mixtures of both

 Most of the piece as chroatic chroatic,, but progressed to a very long hite-key passage that as the rst tie Wolff had used overtly diatonic harony.  sketch In or these keyboard pieces, hatof traditionally traditionall ould have the been considered precopositional catalog aterials yno becae score. In othera  ords,  ord s, as in uc uch h of Feld Feldan’ an’s and Bro Bron’ n’ss usi usic, c, the cop coposer oser laid out the ost typical “traditional” aspects of the score, but let perforers ork out the details.  When copa copared red to ost ost of Wolff’ Wolff’ss scores of of the 1960s, 1960s, ith ith ore open open scoring scoring Tilbury pieces Snowdrop seeed but coplex rules, the siple layout of the Tilbury  pieces and Snowdrop  seeed relatively conventional, designed to encourage perforance ithout too any 53

 

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particular constraints. const raints. Perhaps not surprisingly, critics took to these sipler siple r orks. Times  es  could Tilbury pieces Donal Henahan of the New the  New York Tim  could hear the Tilbury  pieces “beckoning the listener inside [their] attenuated sounds to hear their essence.” Brian Dennis, Times, es, said Snowdrop as  ritingg for the Musical  ritin the  Musical Tim  said that Snowdrop  as “an intriguing interplay of scale fragents drifting together and then apart in rando arabesques.” arabesques.”   Wolff further rened and regularized his ne interest in elody via the  Exercises, a  Exercises,  a personal genre he ould pursue for years to coe. It began as a set of fourteen concise orks ritten during 1973–74 (ith occasional additions in later years). These pieces ere for an open enseble that ould for a icrocosic society in hich players orked together yet responded to one another heterophonously, all players attepting to play in unison ith one another, yet inevitably spilling over others’ attacks and releases. Although in soe ays these

exercises iicked the loose eaved texture of Old South congregational sing ing (and the Ba-Benzélé usic Wolff adired), they propted Cage to say they sounded like “classical usic of an unknon civilization.”    Though each exercise had its on particulars particulars,, the predoinant score layout  as a single long string of open or lled noteheads (ith or ithout stes or beas) to be played in the clef or clefs of the instruents involved, ith occasional pauses (represented by sall edges). The players ould collectively adopt a consistent o of notes, ith individual variations alloed, alloe d, so long as unison playing  as, acc accordi ording ng to the perf perfora orance nce notes notes,, “the poin pointt of refer reference” ence” to hic hich h a play player er should return. If the score gave a idground beteen reading readi ng and iprovisation, the aking of it as a idground beteen planning and iprovisation: iprovisati on: “to rite  ith an at once free free and focused focused iediacy iediacy analogous analogous to a kind of instruental instruental iprovisation, the ritten result of hich ould in turn allo the perforers to play in that sae spirit.” Wolff’s guiding principle as no this: “Let playing be coposition and coposition playing.”   The exercise exercisess distill distilled ed Wolff olff’’s recent concerns. They ebodied siplicity and exibility. They also had the educative educati ve conceit suggested sugge sted by the title: ti tle: one as learning ho to behave aong different usical personalities, but free fro the noral dictates of “chaber usic.” For these reasons, the exercises continue to be aong the ost perfored repertoire of Wolff’s career, in venues ranging fro concert halls to clubs to classroos.   Just hen Wolff had begun coposing the exercise exercises, s, Feldan nally organized an event about hich he and Cage had been talking for years: the rst concert devoted entirely to Wolff’s usic. To understand its iportance, one ust consider the internal dynaics of the increasingly ell-knon Ne York School. In 1952 Cage had elcoed Earle Bron to collaborate in various ays

 

Figure 7. The sketch page for the rst of Wolff’s exercises—virtually indistinguishable fro the “nished” score. Wolff Papers. Used by perission.

 ith hiself, Wolff, Wolff, Feldan, and and Tudor Tudor.. Feldan, hoever, hoever, “refused [Bron] adittance” into their t heir circle. circle . Feldan “becae very, very angry, angry,” Cage said, and so, “y friendship ith Morty as broken for quite a period.”  Wolff hiself tried to intervene and reconcile Cage and Feldan.   To help repair the rift, Cage ounted a joint concert of Bron’ Bron’ss and Feldan’ Feldan’ss  ork on 11 October October 1963 in Ton Hall. The short-ter benet benet of this concert  as to salve their feeli feelings. ngs. But the long long-ter -ter detri detrient, ent, Cage later expl explained ained,, “a “ass that no concert as a s ever given giv en of the ork of Christian Chr istian Wolff. Wolff. And his ork, as a result, is not noticed as uch as Earle and Morty’s.” Morty’s.” In the id-1960s, Feldan and Cage had spoken often about reediating Wolff’s neglect by giving hi his on concert. In March 1970, Cage assessed a Whitney Museu concert of Ne  York  Y ork School usic in this ay: “I found the entire evening nearly unbearable; [it] bored e so deeply”—except, he said for “y still very keen interest in Christian Wolff’s usic.” Meanhile, Feldan, hen talking about the Ne York School, often referred only to hiself, Cage, and Wolff, leaving out Bron. On

 

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one occasion in the 1960s, Feldan as asked ho the Ne York School ebers lined up ith those of the Second Viennese School. Cage as Schoenberg, Feldan said, sai d, he hiself as Berg, and Wolff Wolff as Webern. Webern. Soeone asked, hat about Bron? Krenek, Feldan replied.   No,, having joined the faculty at SUNY Buffalo, Feldan as able to ount No the long-discussed Wolff concert there on 15 April 1973. It included hat Feldan called “the asterork of that period [the early earl y 1950s],” Nine, 1950s],” Nine, hich,  hich, though it had been played once before (Prague, 1962), Wolff still had never heard. “Just iagine,” Feldan said, “here as a coposer ho astonished the Ne York avant-garde at sixteen or seventeen.” Feldan recounted to the audience Cage’s Cage’s rst encounter en counter ith i th Wolff, Wolff, explained that Wolff Wolff’’s iportance iport ance as no no  “equal to  Webern’  W ebern’s, s,”” called Wolff’ olff’ss usic Cage’s Cage’s “North Star, Star,” and added that “I think of [Wolff] as y artistic conscience.”

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Someth ing More Specically Something “Musical”: 1973–1984

 at d a r t m o u t h , w o l f f co n s ta n t ly  had  had to prepare ne les-

son plans. Throughout the 1970s, he anned three to t o ve courses a year in i n coparative literature, huanities, classics in Greek and Latin (as ell as in translation), Greek tragedy, Hoeric poetry, Marxist literature, liter ature, and special-topics courses cour ses that explored subjects such as Eros, political philosophy, and feinis. During his rst year y ear at Dartouth Dartou th (1970–71), (1970–71 ), Wolff also started s tarted a “Workshop “Workshop in ExperiEx periental Music,” loosely based on his hi s orkshops in British Brit ish art schools. He enrolled  orkshop ebers not by audition but by intervies in in hich hich students, students, regardless of their usical training, had to coit to collaborate ith one another in assorted sonic behaviors. Each orkshop varied in enrollent (usually fro telve to tenty-ve) and had students ranging fro usically skilled, abitious young instruentalists to theater and art students. The orkshop’s repertoire featured open scores—Wolff’s on pieces, soe Cage, soe Oliveros, soe Rzeski, et al.—and even the students’ on ne orks. They also played arrangeents of folk tunes and even classical pieces (e.g., piano preludes of Chopin) for hatever instruentss and voices ere available. Halfay through the course, the class colinstruent lectively decided hat they liked to play, assessed hat “orked,” and planned a concert (preferably (prefer ably off capus), collaborating on location, progra, poster design, design , transportation, and so forth.

 

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  Early in 1973 Wolff gave a lecture to the Dartouth faculty in hich he brought together his divided assignents.  The lecture, “Plato and the Ne  Music,”” as foral and cool-headed but poleical. Wolff explained Plato’  Music, Plato’ss belief belief in usic’s poer to shape character and transfor the soul in ays a good sociPhaedo, the Statesman, the  Republic, and ety requires. Citing passages fro the Phaedo,  the Statesman,  the Republic,  and  Laws, Wolff the Laws, the  Wolff traced Plato’s critique of the “ne” usic that debased a society by freeing elody fro the support of ords, isusing the odes, or needlessly coplicating rhyths. He then pivoted to Mao’s Yenan talks, in hich he sa the odern continuation of Plato’s critique, and praised the Cultural Revolution (though its brutal practices ere not yet knon in the t he West). West). With With Plato and Mao as a foundation, Wolff explicitly echoed Carde in indicting avant-garde coposers—Elliott Carter, to nae one—for their elitis and self-absorbed styles.   Nevertheless Nevert heless,, Wolff and Carde’s outlook outlookss gre increas increasingly ingly distin distinct. ct.

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 When on 20 May 1973 Carde ounted a perforanc perforancee of Wolff Wolff s  Accompani ments  (alongside  Attica and  (alongside Rzeski’ Rzeski’ss Attica  and Coming Together ), ), Carde rose to attack not  Wolff’  W olff’ss usic usic,, he said, but Wolff’ olff’ss choic choicee of subjec subjects: ts: pollut pollution ion and the popula population tion explosion, to of the causes that had eerged in the U.S. counterculture in the late 1960s alongside along side civil rights, right s, oen’s oen’s rights, econoic justice, justice , and resistance to the Vietna War ar.. Carde considered environentali env ironentalis s and birth control contro l the “great red herrings” of the U.S. intellectual elite. No Wolff had shon hiself “an erring brother” duped by the pseudocollectivis of the acadeic bourgeois. He and Rzeski had created “confusion” by their elitis dressed up as proletarianis. The point of his offering this Wolff-Rzeski Wolff-Rzeski concert, Carde said, as “to bring these ideological and political lines out into the open and take a conscious stand against the and criticize the.”   Carde anted to court the proletarian asses on a grand scale. Wolff anted to create a coeorative, nondogatic body of personal narratives of orkers’ struggles for justice. John Tilbury—friend of both coposers—sa another distinction: Carde “sacriced all on the altar of revolution.” But Wolff’s orks, even the earlier ones, he found to be already “a projection into the future, a utoare political. pian paradig; they are  political. The usic-aking they generate gener ate is collaborative, collaborative , self-consciously giving giv ing and taking, non-judgental, respectful, attentive, sharing, individuality, not cherishing the quotidian, here individuality,  not ‘individualis,’ is nurtured. In short, it is strongly anti-authoritarian, ‘deocratic.’” Fro Wolff’s Wolff’s perspective per spective,, Carde had “a kind of proselyting prosely ting streak, stre ak,”” hereas “the ai [for e] is not to say ‘This is hat you ust think,’ but to get people to look at things and think about the.” If Carde as an evangelist, Wolff as—not surprisingly—a professor.

 

  In that he folloed Cage’ Cage’ss teacherl teacherlyy exaple. Yet Wolff continued to spar gently ith Cage about overtly political usic. In January 1974 Cage rote to  Wolff  W olff to question the ephasis Wolff Wolff no placed on the idea of “poer” “poer” in his usic. Cage began, in effect, by revising his on history, saying ho he ould have stopped riting usic altogether in the 1940s ere it not for the rejuvenating essage of Asian thought, hich could be suarized as: stop trying to control. Even though Cage’s faith in that dictu is arguable, he claied no to take delight in “not exercising poer over sounds.” But he had coe to the conclusion that such an approach to usic could not change society. He had to ask, “What is right action for usicians to bring about the revolution?”    To onths later, Wolff replied ith a brief letter that heartily quoted Ives: “The future of usic ay not lie entirely e ntirely ith usic itself but rather in the ay it encourages and extends, rather than liits, the aspirations and ideals of the people,” etc. Attached to this letter ere iscellaneous notes and usings by

 Wolff on  Wolff on the subject of of usic usic and and politics, politics, along ith his his notes to “Plato and the the Ne Music,” hich he had no delivered in various utations tice ore (at UC Santa Cruz and Sith College).   That suer, Wolff as invited back to Darstadt. During the last full  eek of of July 1974, he held class there each each eekday eekday afternoon afternoon for an hour hour,, treating the social concerns of usic and introducing the latest usic of Aerican coposers in his iediate circle (as ell as, notably, Philip Glass). The Darstadt students questioned the intent, durability, and peranence of uch of this usic, sipleinded as it seeed by Darstadt’s usual standards: beat-driven, redundant, odal, and conventionally “elodic.” Even the texts of soe of the  Attica—struck usic—especially usic—especi ally Rzeski’s Rzeski’s Attica —struck Darstadt hearers as too blatant, too  vernacular.. Wolff’  vernacular olff’ss replies to his critics, hoever hoever,, seeed less less iportant iportant than the the ere fact of their location: he had carved out a place for inialists and political usic in the heart of serial orthodoxy. Ho one ight easure the success of the ove is difcult to say. But he as not invited back for tenty-four years.   Wolff increasingly relied on “pick-up groups” of friends for preiers. He had alays had a core cor e of coposer-perforer friends frie nds (Tudor, (Tudor, Rzeski, Behran, Carde, Cage, et al.) as ell as a fe virtuoso instruentalists ho adired and played his ork (trobonist Garrett List, for exaple, or French horn player Kurt Schertsik). To To frequently preiere ne orks ith regular cohorts actually becae in his ind a part of “socially conscious” usic: the bonding of a sall collective of utually reliant players ebodied the cooperative political life he iagined through his texts and techniques. 59

 

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  But beyond the social consciousness of his perforance collective, Wolff turned to a ne technique: the veiled ebedding of old ol d orker’s orker’s songs and politipoliti cal tunes in the fabric of his counterpoint. “Veiled” in that he transfored the tunes largely by techniques e discuss belo.  This constituted a kind of cryptography that harked back to the Middle Ages, privileging the associative poer of tunes tied to specic ords. It as an esoteric act of devotion to an idea, one presuing an initiated init iated and sypathetic sypathe tic body of hearers. heare rs. Wolff olff’’s ne usic derived derive d fro old orker songs as an allusive hoage to the struggles of the Industrial  Age, in hich hich the original aterials ere, in effect, elted elted don and recast. To ake the hoage clear, though, Wolff often presented the songs directly at the Jones, and Variationss pieces’ openings (e.g., Bread and Roses, Death o Mother Jones,  and Cello Variation on “Hallelujah, I’m a Bum” ) or encouraged the players to play the songs in their original for before playing the ne, derived pieces.   He dre his tunes ainly fro three sources. One as a 1973 Dover Books

Work and reissue of the 1960 anthology by Edith Foke and Joe Glazer: Songs o Work Protest, hich Protest,  hich included any ilitant and huorous songs. Another as Pete Folksinger, hich Sion Seeger’s hefty autobiography-songbook The Incompleat Folksinger, hich and Schuster had published in 1972. The third as John J ohn Loax and Alan Loax’s Loax’s  Folk olk Song U.S.A., U.S.A., rst  venerable F  venerable  rst published in 1947 ith the usical editorship editorship of Charles Seeger and his ife, Ruth Craford Seeger.    With only a fe exceptio exceptions—ainly ns—ainly ne folk songs, such as Holly Near’ Near’ss “Hay Una Mujer Desaparecida”—Wolff dre fro such anthologies the songs that ould pereate his usic for the reainder of his career: During the 1970s– 1970s – 80s alone, he used as source aterial these political and folk songs found in the aforeentioned aforeention ed three books alone (listed here in the order he used the): There Once Was a Union Maid Hallelujah, I’m a Bum Bread and Roses  John Golden and The Lawrence Strike The Preacher and the Slave Moorsoldaten (Peat-Bog Soldier) Rock About Abi Yoyo Po’ Lazarus Big Rock Candy Mountain Acres of Clams Hey Ho, Nobody Home The Sun Is Burning 

 

Mary, Don’t You Weep O Freedom Set Down, Servant Ain’t No More Cane in Dis Brazis  Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho The Grey Goose All the Pretty Little Horses Cindy

  His earliest and ost overt use of one of these songs led to an alost legendary oent in experientalist lore, one that drove a teporary edge in his relationship relations hip ith Cage. Since 1964, Merce Merce Cunningha had staged stage d hat he called siply “events.” An “event” as a perforance by his dance troupe in hich old choreographies ere spliced together into edleys underlaid ith fresh usic. In the fall of 1975, Cunningha coissioned Wolff Wolff for soe ne usic for his hi s next event. Wolff responded ith four ne exercises (nos. 15–18). The rst to

exercises of this ne set—one for piano, the other for unspecied duet—derived Maid. The fourth (open instruentation quartet) derived their aterial fro Union Maid. The  Hallelujah, I’m a Bum. Bum. Cunningha fro Hallelujah, fro  Cunningha used these ne exercises exercise s to accopany one of the events Cunningha held during the rst eek of Deceber. Before playing the Exercises, Wolff’s players raucously sang Union Maid  itself  itself “because  e ere er e in sypathy sy pathy ith it h its it s sentients.” Wolff Wolff recalls: “The audience, ost of ho routinely had encountered and tolerated the ost advanced kinds of usic, audibly gasped in shock.” s hock.” While a fe audience audie nce ebers (and even dancers) spoke ell of it, ost disissed it. Even Holly thought it beyond the pale and told Christian so. Cage turned aay fro Wolff, visibly disturbed.    To eeks later, Wolff rote Cage to apologiz apologizee for the “trouble “troublesoe soe diversion” he and his group had caused. He explained that it as a “fair risk,” given the itty, even coic, choreographic tone (and juxtapositions) Cunningha often used. But part of the proble, proble , Wolff explained, as that Cage claied to to have renounced renoun ced “intentions” and Wolff Wolff could not do the sae. “Perhaps I should shoul d let go of the sounds; I can’t see to let the intentions go. But I see no to be deterined to continue to try to bring the together. I don’t kno hat else to do.”   Earlier that year Neely Bruce coissioned Wolff to rite his rst choral piece. Bruce as one of a sall but active group of Aerican coposer-perforerscholars (any of the forer students of Charles Ha at the University of Illinois) ho studied tentieth-century Aerican vernacular usic, coposed usic that abstrusely referenced its idios, and perfored both vernacular and

 

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experiental usic. (Bruce and the siilarly Aericana-inded Willia Willia Brooks,  HPSCHD at for exaple, both played pl ayed in Cage’ Cage ’s HPSCHD  at Illinois in 1969.) In a sense, they continued a line begun by the Charles and Ruth Craford Seeger (hose children and stepchildren included Pete, Peggy, and Mike Seeger, all icons of the folk revival). No teaching at Wesleyan—the university that had published all of Cage’s books—Bruce anted Wolff to rite a ne ork for his student and counity chorus.   For source aterial, Wolff turned to to principal sources. One as the autobiography of Bill Hayood, leader of the so-called Wobblies—ebers of the IWW union (Industrial Workers of the World)—a group ell-knon for its Songs ideological of socialis anarchis. The otherilitant source and as coic o Work andstraddling Protest, hich Protest, hich containedand any of the Wobblies’ songs. With these as textual foundations, Wolff rote a strongly didactic ultioveent ork for chorus, keyboard, and to unspecied solo-line solo- line instruents, using ostly siple elodies and deployent of text, favoring unison syllabic

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declaations and vocal hocketing, Music, began ith a kind of exposition via   The piece, siply titled Wobbly Music, began the straightforard singing of three orkers songs: “Bread and Roses,” “John Golden and the Larence Strike,” and “The Preacher and the Slave” (aka “Pie in the Sky”). A choralelike instruental interlude prepared the listener for the four oveents to follo. The rst of these set to usic portions of the 1908 preable to the constitution of the IWW, using hocketed voices occasionally interrupted by bass gurations. The second oveent loosely arranged “John Golden” ith “unison” (i.e., heterophonic) singing over ad lib. accopanient.  The third took a text fro Arturo Giova Giovannitti nnitti’’s closin closingg state stateent ent at the Lar Larence ence Strike trial in 1912 and set it ith chanting, recitatives, and chordal accopanient. The fourth used a text fro a Bill Hayood speech (1913), (1913) , setting it ith a narro,, Exerciselike tune in vocal hocket ith occasional instruental narro inst ruental doublings and percussion-chord interjections (à la Accompaniments  la Accompaniments ). ). The hole set seeed to convert early tentieth-century strikers’ rhetoric into a kind of liturgy t for declaatory, ritualized delivery. Wolff ould later call it “y ost successful 

piece in that line.”  Rzeski as ore denitive: “I consider [it] a asterpiece of odern choral literature.” Wobbly Music  crossed    crossed several thresholds for the coposer. It as his rst choral  ork (and (and indeed one of his fe vocal pieces pieces at all). It put forth forth for the rst tie  hat ould becoe his canon of usico-political sources: the orker’ orker’ss usic chapioned by folk revivalists of the 1950s and 1960s. It exploited a technique that had long fascinated hi: hocket, the edieval practice of dividing a single

 

line aong different players (a technique Webern too had used in his celebrated  Musical al Oe Oering  ring ). orchestration orchestrat ion of the Ricercare fro f ro J. S. Bach’s Music ). Here the political usefulness of vocal hocketing becae clear. Wolff could present a text prisatically by refracting its coponents (ords or pairs of ords) in various vocal parts.  That kept the text seantically seantically intact but shifted shifted its its colors colors and and spatial spatial placeent (i.e., fro one group’s position on the stage to another’s). Modernist coposers (e.g., Berio) and experientalist coposers (e.g., Kenneth Gaburo) had tended to treat texts as phoneic objects ready to be disantled and recobined, recobined, often in thick nets of counterpoint. Wolff’s onophonic-heterophonic hocketing in Wobbly Music  alloed  alloed hi to present the text ith no obscuring of eaning, yet yet still “developed.”   usically As Wolff began to receive ore coissions, his old ethods had to give ay ay.. In the 1960s he had intended ne orks to be played and playable by untrained perforers—or rather, perforers hose training required only the skills needed for his idiosyncratic scores. In that ay—true to a certain deocratic politics—

conventional virtuosi had little if any advantage over beginners in perforing a conventional  Wolff  W olff coposition. coposition. But fro the id-1970s id-1970s on, old styles of notation and and technique took fresh root in Wolff’s riting. As he explained in 1980, in pieces such as Burdocks  “there  “there is a sense in the background of nature and of people (including children) playing.” But in the later orks “there is soething ore specically ‘usical’ and a kind of expression that is ore evidently usical—that is, closer to historical continuities” cont inuities” of hat has been be en called “usic.” He no believed that “usic can function function better socially if it is ore clearly identied ith hat ost people recognize as usic.” way he   Soe of the changes in the way  he rote gre fro changes in his household. In fall 1975 Holly got a roo near Harvard so she could retreat several days a  eek to ork ork on her her doctor doctoral al disserta dissertation, tion, a copa coparativ rativee study study of of narra narrative tive strucstrucOdyssey, and ture in three epic poes (Gilgamesh, ( Gilgamesh, the  the Odyssey,  and Beowul ). ). As his acadeic and parental duties expanded, Wolff’s ethod turned ore and ore pieceeal. He likened it to “journal entries” or, ore coonly, “quilting.” By the forer, he eant short, occasional notations of pitch, rhyth, for, and so forth, usually one concise page (or portion of a page) at a sitting. By “quilting,” “quilting,” he eant ho he  ould brose  ould brose through through the the “journ “journal al entry” entry” pages pages,, pick pick those those that seeed seeed to ork  ell togethe together—ho r—hoever ever juxtapo juxtaposition sitionally— ally—and and asseb asseble le the into larger larger fors. fors. “I think of Cage’s notion of ‘sounds for theselves,’” he later rote, “each sound its on center, then alays possible interpenetrations; but instead of just the single sound or sound event, I also, and ostly, use various longer continuities of sounds.  This is not not unrelated unrelated to, say say,, Satie or Stravin Stravinsky sky (or (or Frescoba Frescobaldi). ldi).””

 

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  His usic courses also seeed to use a siilar “quilting” technique. Consider the Music 3 course he taught ith it h Malcol Goldstein in the inter ter ter  of 1977.  The course began ith ith revies of rhyth, elody elody,, acoustics, acoustics, and and perception. It proceeded to electronic usic, folloed by “for and continuity,” Beethoven,  African  Africa n Aeric Aerican an usic, Japane Japanese se usic, Renais Renaissance sance usic, and nally “politi “political cal and popular usic.” The students not only read fro an eclectic library of titles Silence, Charles Blues, Leonard Meyer’s Emotion (including Cage’s Silence,  Charles Keil’s Urban Blues, Leonard Meyer’s  Emotion and Meaning in Music, and Music, and Carde’ Imperialism, to nae a fe) Car de’ss Stockhausen Serves Imperialism, to but also rote and perfored to ne copositions apiece.   One can scarcely reconstru reconstruct ct the ethods Wolff used to copose any indi vidual piece piece fro this this era (and (and beyond). beyond). Even Even Wolff Wolff hiself hiself seldo recalls. Fe “sketches” or drafts exist. Although he tended to be systeatic ithin liited fraeorks, he stayed open to breaching his ethods at ill. Moentary instinct could alays override a syste. Most pieces ere sen together fro fragents.  As for the fragents theselves, to shift the etaphor, etaphor, Wolff’ Wolff’ss construction of

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the resebled glassbloing: glassbloing: the glassbloer either blos a usable shape or discards the aed results. As Wolff rote each prospective portion of a piece he considered it, then either kept it or thre it aay.   To constants in the usic of this period are the tersene terseness ss of his gestures gestures,, a trait that pervades his usic fro its earliest to latest incarnations, and throughthroughcoposed fors, hich he felt necessary to ebody progression, a constant oving forard, never back. At the sae tie, no one copositional method  char  characterizes Wolff’s political usic. Not only did each piece constitute a quilt of fragents, but the pieces taken together ade up a larger patchork of copositions. Because Wolff Wolff resisted the exact e xact repetition of copositional coposit ional ethods fro piece to piece, his style constantly, though subtly, realigned itself.   Although unilling to fully subit sounds to predeterined plans, Wolff still harnessed instinct ith nueric controls and, soeties, archaic contrapuntal procedures. That latter phrase alludes in part to his treatent of pitch as series of “points,” individual tones that he often took fro the rst fe notes of a folk tune by systeatic transpositions. He principally principally used to ethods to do so:   1. Quasi-seri Quasi-serial al etaorphosi etaorphosiss of a folk incipit: This consisted of applying the sae interval of transposition—either up or don—to each note of the rst fe notes of a folk tune. This could take place in any layers. He ight transpose each note up or don a half step, then the resultant tune’s pitches up or don another half step, etc., gradually transforing the original fragent by sli degrees. Or he ight transpose each note up or don either of to intervals—a half step or a ajor third, for exaple—and then do the sae to the resultant

 

elody, repeatedly. Or, again, he ight transpose each note up or don a half step; then, on a second pass (either to the original tune or the resultant one) up or don a hole step; then, again, up or don a inor third; then a ajor third; and so forth, through all the intervals to a preset liit (generally a tritone); then, possibly, reverse direction (fourths to thirds, to seconds).   2. With or ithout the technique in no. 1, he ight spontaneous spontaneously ly change (or allo the player to change) the clef, perutating any of the tune’s interval qualities (e.g., half and hole steps).   Beyond these pitch-only transforati transforations, ons, he used various anipulations of pitch + rhyth. One of these is a siple additive technique. In one version of it,  Wolff  W olff unfolds a tune by playing playing its rst note (i.e., pitch and and rhyth cobined), cobined), then the rst and second s econd (1 + 2), then (1 + 2 + 3), then (1 + 2 + 3 + 4), and so forth Pan(siilar to the entire perforance process of Rzeski’s 1969 Les 1969 Les Moutons de Panurge). urge ). Since such a process is so transparent, transp arent, Wolff Wolff uses it i t sparingly. A ore interinte resting and durable version of the technique involves separating the paraeters:

 Wolff uses  Wolff us es the pitches in their t heir original order but unfolds the rhythic values additively (and thus ore sloly, hile the pitches go on independently). Thus: Original Pitches 1 2

3 4 5 6 etc.

Original Rhythms 1 1 2

1 2

3 etc.

  A reverse of this procedure is, of course, also possible: the original rhyths appear in order, but the pitches additively.   Wolff could also adopt another, ore elaborate technique that he calls loops on a grid: a quasi-isorhythic technique illustrated via the exaple of gure 8.   In this exaple, Wolff begins ith three pitches in the treble clef (A4, B4, D4) and three in the bass clef (C4, E3, F3). To the treble clef he assigns the nuber series [3.4.0.1.12]; to the bass [5.2.2.10.1]. He then arks off a series of thirty-six units—not beats or easures, per se, but siply spaces, or hat e ill, for the purposes of this description, de scription, call “slots,” “slots,” into hich he ill place each note. In the treble clef he starts by placing A4 in the rst slot, skips three slots, places A4 in the next slot, skips four slots, places A4 in the next slot, then another in the next slot (i.e., has “0” slots intervening), skips 1 slot and places another A4, then 12 and places yet another, copleting the series [3.4.0.1.12]. Next, he skips 3 fro the last A4 and places a B4 in a slot, skips 4 and places another B4, folloed by one ore in the next slot (i.e., “0” slots intervening), intervening), hich is the last slot of the 36. At this point he “loops” to the rst slot, skips it (i.e., “1”) and places another 65

 

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| Something More Specifcally “Musical”: 1973–1984

Figure 8. A saple of Wolff’s “loops-on-a-grid” sketch technique. Gift of Christian  Wolff  W olff to authors.

B4, skips 12 and places another. He then skips 3 slots and places a D4, skips 4 and places another, and so forth. He follos the sae process in the bass clef, using its respective pitches and nuber series. This produces a constant kaleidoscopic reconguring of the six pitches as solo notes or siultaneities. With that done he translates the recongura recongurations tions into siple easures and rhyths. The result resebles the kind of ork he did ith liited pitch pieces in his earliest years, only no ore systeatic in procedure.   All these procedures can be ixed ithin the sae passage, juxtaposed ithin the sae piece, or abandoned at ill. Strangely, they bespeak an abivalence to the politically charged source aterial they transfor: one can rarely recognize ore glipse glipses s of the songs hos e texts ean s o uch so thean copose coposer The loops than on a grid techniq technique ue that Whose Wolff olff developed develop ed hints that hetohas iplic itr.faith iplicit in their latent counicative poer, but needs to refract the through a lateodern sensibility. Well-trained in translating archaic languages into English or tracing single thees across genres in literature, he no translated folk usic into experiental usic ith this technique. By apping one syste onto another, he converted the coon or deotic usical language into an arcane and hier-

 

atic one. But hat attered ore than procedures ere the results. In the latter half of the 1970s, 1970s , one could see a reneent—even renee nt—even a kind k ind of taing—of Wolff Wolff’’s usical rhetoric. To see that, consider to of the virtuosic piano pieces he coDesaparecida. posed during those years: Bread and Roses  and Hay  and Hay Una Mujer Desaparecida.   Both orks gre fro solo piano genres that both Carde and Rzeski had ebraced. Carde rote his neoroantic Thälmann Variations  in  in 1975; Cage and others thought the piece “19th century salon usic.” In the sae year, y ear, Rzeski had ritten hat for Wolff as the ideal coposing-out of variations on one of South Aerica’s Aerica’s ost beloved political politi cal chants or songs (equivalent (equivale nt in iconic poer to the civil rights r ights oveent’ ove ent’ss “We “We Shall Overcoe”). Rzeski’s Rzeski’s The People United Shall Never Be Deeated  sprang  sprang fro “grand anner” traditions quite at odds ith the kind of virtuosity virtu osity in Wolff Wolff’’s earlier piano orks. ork s. The piece as populist popul ist in its appeal to historic pianis but progressive not only in its leftist allusions but in its huge variety of styles.   Wolff folloed suit in the piano orks he rote in the late 1970s (often for  Attica and ogether  r  had Rzeski to play). Just as Rzeski’ Rzeski’ss Attica  and Coming Togethe  had inspired Wolff

to use textual declaations over siple accopanient, The People United  inspired  inspired hi to rite in long variation fors for solo piano ith no text, only the usical foundation of political poli tical song. And no, no, hereas his early solo piano orks or ks had been atoistic, these ne ones ere aphoristic. They relied not on odular points or oents but on strong, terse gestures strung into an abstract narrative. His earlier conventionally notated solo piano orks had been shaped neither by dynaics nor articulations. They ebodied a strictly Apollonian constructivist spirit, teetering on the precipice of unplayability unplayability.. In their pianistic oratory his ne orks seeed see ed far ore Dionysian. And the variation genre seeed an apt vessel for his ne style: it t perfectly ith his idea of quilting but gave a controlling foral concept.   Wolff rote Bread and Roses  (piano  (piano version) for Rzeski in 1976. In the notation, as ith ost of Wolff Wolff’’s pieces fro f ro then on, there is i s little on hich to reark. rear k. He clearly deterines pitches and rhyths, except for rests, hich appear only as breath arks. The ork consists of a variety of textures, hich, according to the progra note, are “freely stitched together”: huge, multiregistral chordal fanfares (most of them technically unplayable as actual simultaneities) the tune, simply stated and harmonized solo compound melodic lines in sixteenth notes a treble-only, quarter note oriented solo-line variation two-voice running sixteenth notes in counterpoint solo-line fragments

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| Something More Specifcally “Musical”: 1973–1984

 The piece relies on long-breathed lines, either solo or in to-part counterpoin counterpoint. t.  These often aou aount nt to unidi unidirectio rectional nal arpeg arpeggiati giations ons that, as they spira spirall off, yield to tice- and thrice-repeated thrice-repeate d notes that see to provide provi de points of polarity. The long strings of equal note values (usually sixteenth notes) conjure faint echoes of the Baroque. But although the notes are generally ritten in (unetered) (unetered ) conventional notation, the tepo, dynaics, and “ays of playing” pl aying” are, in Wolff Wolff’’s ords, “free and variable.” This creates a densely de nsely thicketed thick eted rhapsody that, in Rzeski’s Rzeski’s ords, listeners “see to begin to enjoy only after they’ve t hey’ve heard it a couple of ties.” ties.”  Hay Una Un a Mujer Desaparecida Desaparecida (1979)   By contrast, contrast, Hay  (1979) seeed doesticated, its Roses, it textures cobed out. With the sae conventional notation as Bread and Roses, it provided a lean, ore accessible set of character variations that ere in any ays classicistic, ith a uch sloer turnover of the total chroatic. The lines ere no constrained, far fro the ferocious disjunctures of interval and register in Bread and Roses. It Roses. It even used barlines, though at irregular distances, to establish partitions beteen successive textures and rhythic patterning. Throughout, it hinted at the populist vocabulary of other leftist coposers fro Copland to Carde.

  Beteen Wolff olff’’s riting of these to pieces—aid any other instruental orks—the ever-entrepreneurial Cage ade plans ith Wesleyan in 1977 to publish his earlier political correspondence ith Wolff in his next book, Empty book, Empty Words. Wolff Words.  Wolff eshed out his earlier notes and drafted a ne letter surveying his usico-political beliefs. He adopted a gentler tone, donplaying the possibility of usic ever changing the orld or solving its probles. Nevertheless, through collective action and revolutionary revolut ionary usic, “I’d like to help, at least, to ake yself and others less nervous at the prospect of real change”— change”—including including “disantling “disantling capitalis.”  In the end, Cage’s editor cut the correspondence fro the book. “I a both sorry and relieved,” Cage rote, “as I iagine you are too.”  If there  as a sequel to this proposed publication, publication, it cae in 1980 ith Wolff’ Wolff’ss essay in the inaugural issue of Pozzi Escot and Robert Cogan’s journal, Sonus: A Journal o Investigations into Global Musical Po Possibilities. ssibilities. Titled  Titled “On Political Polit ical Texts Texts and Ne  Music,”” it continued hat  Music, hat had begun as “Plato “Plato and the Ne Music.” Music.” Wolff sur veyed the political connotations of his earlier open-score untexted orks, then Music. These gave detailed descriptions of his texted Accompaniments  texted Accompaniments  and  and Wobbly Music.  These  ere, in in effect, the ne pillars pillars in his post-Carde post-Carde opus.   Wolff rote that essay aid ne events in his faily and career. In 1978 Holly nished her dissertation and got her doctorate in coparative literature. In 1979, she gave birth to their third child, Nicholas (“Tico”), and, in 1981, their fourth,  Tristra  T ristra.. In 1978 Christian had nally nally been granted tenure at Dartouth—far Dartouth—far later than he had expected. Although he taught courses in language and literature, literature ,

 

 W  Wolff’ dual career dual had tiltedatalos alost t entirely en tirely toard usic. usic Allon through throu gh the 1970s heolff’s hads obtained residencies usic schools, lectured on .his copositions, and attended concerts of ne orks—or even concerts devoted entirely to his Music,  usic in London, West Berlin, Milan, and Budapest. In his 1981 Modern 1981  Modern Music,  Paul Grifths discussed “The Cage Group,” devoting one score excerpt apiece to  Wolff  W olff,, Feld Feldan, an, and Bro Bron n (in that order order)) and lucid lucidly ly expla explaining ining Wolff’ olff’ss pione pioneerering scores. Intervies ith Wolff Wolff and articles about his usic appeared in Europe and the United States. Recordings cae out on any labels, including Wergo,  Vox,  V ox, Elect Electrola, rola, EMI, and CRI. But throu throughout ghout the entir entiree decad decadee he had only three acadeic paper readings and to journal articles in classics (1973 and 1979).   Still, Wolff pursued opportuniti opportunities es and responded to invitations related to his avoed scholarly passion. Having developed a ide circle of friends in the eld (soe forer students ho had gone on to positions in classics at various universities), he could give public addresses on Euripides’ and Sophocles’ plays during 1980 and a fe years thereafter at conferences and guest lectureships at Sith, Bron, Princeton, and Oxford. He even took a brief stint as a visiting professor

in the Harvard Classics Departent.   In 1984 Wolff turned fty. It is tepting to call hat Wolff had already been  riting for the previous decade decade as soe for of “late style,” style,” in hich hich his scholarly aptitude for antiquity drove a technique that, at least on its surface, harked back to venerable traditions of expression and o, despite its unbridled chroaticis. His usic certainly had retrenched fro his ost radical experients, those scores for hich he as (and is) best knon. One cannot ell predict hat shifts in style ight yet coe. “Late style” alays depends on longevity. Still, as he passed through his hyperpolitical stage, Wolff renegotiated the radicalis of his usic fro its open-ended scoring to an ad hoc traditionalis. It as as though, in denying the ultrapopulis of Carde, he turned to a style that honored the discipline and polish of perforers ho, ore ith each passing year, asked that he rite for the. For the rest of the tentieth century, that style branched out in a genealogy of personal genres and titles, soe of the attached to a ediu that had long eluded hi: the syphony orchestra.

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Not to Do Something I’ve Already Done: 1982–1999

in november 1982 john cage  turned seventy seve nty.. By then, books

and articles generally ge nerally labeled labe led Wolff Wolff as Cage’s Cage’s disciple, ith little litt le reciprocal inui nuTriQuarterly, he ence iplied. iplied . In a Cage birthday tribute tribut e Wolff Wolff rote for TriQuarterly,  he tried to adjust the historical lens. He conceded that Cage had hugely inuenced hi. After After all, they had et hen Wolff as an ipressionable sixteen-year-old. Nevertheless, he said, Cage’s real inuence on hi and others as his “discipline, uncoproisingness, asceticis, at the sae tie as his untiring declarations of support, cheerfulness, discovery and counication pleasure. His call for the use of intelligence intellig ence and conscience.” conscie nce.” But no one could iitate Cage’ Cage ’s usic: “you ould no ore try to iitate it, if you had any sense, than you ould try to duplicate a thunderstor or the groing of grass.”   Just so, it ould be difcult to iitate Wolff’ olff’ss usic. Although it had utated fro its earliest and arguably ost radical techniques, it folloed a certain continuu. As e’ve noted, Cage described descr ibed Wolff Wolff’’s exercises as “classical usic of an unknon civilization.” In 1997, Dartouth usic chair Jon Appleton said that  Wolff’  W olff’ss usic as “often unrelated to any knon tradition traditions. s.”” The folloing year Rzeski described de scribed Wolff Wolff’’s usic fulsoely: fulsoe ly: “Weird “Weird little lit tle tunes, tune s, sounding as if they the y had been beaed at soe reote point in the universe and then bounced back again as a kind of intergalactic utant usic; recognizable elodic and rhythic

 

patterns, soeho sen together in onstrous pairing, soeties reiniscent of the deons of Hieronyous Bosch, coposites of anials, sh, oers, and coon household objects: there is order, but also constant interruption, intrusions of disorderly reality upon regularity and lafulness, cobining to create an effect of both failiarity and strangeness. . . . not reproducing failiar fors, but revealing, behind these, life’s unpredictability.”   By the year of Cage’ Cage’ss seventie seventieth th birthday, Wolff had crossed the threshol threshold d into his (presuably) last style period, hich encopassed a large body of pieces for diverse players, fro solos (fro ute to contrabass) to orks for chaber groups of any sizes and cobinations, though alost no “standard” ensebles.   What dened the style of this large body of orks? Perhaps its ost iportant—if seeingly supercial—trait is this: alost every score differs differ s in its design and layout fro every other. One nds in Wolff’s late style a seeingly endless nonredundancy, an avid attept to keep reixing notational styles and instructions. While he focuses intently on each segent of a piece hen riting it, he keeps and revises only segents that please hi or see rich in possibility, then assebles those segents intuitively. “Stick it together and see hat happens,”

he later said. This is not ere fatalis. It appeals both to his earliest principles of ebracing discontinuity and a desire to avoid forula. His abition? “Not to do soething I’ve already done.”   Cage had urged against aiting for ideas to percolate before going to ork. Rather, he advocated orking diligently and consistently. Wolff did the sae, as uch as possible aid his acadeic duties, failial obligations, and even far chores (after Ray Nash passed aay in 1982, Christian and Holly oversa the far and tended to other Hope’s needs). Copositional craft as fundaental, a kind of duty one oed to the ra aterial of sound. It also provided a kind of personal therapy for depressed oods: “Work is the only reedy I’ve found,” he rote to Rzeski, though it alays had to be ork that soeho felt “ne.”   Larry Polansky Polansk y, a Dartouth colleague colle ague of Wolff Wolff’’s since 1990, 1 990, described hat he observed about abo ut Wolff Wolff’’s riting process: proce ss: “He has a sall notebook that t hat he carries, carrie s, pretty uch all the tie—he ust have hundreds of these t hese things—and generally his copositional process is to siply rite it, and then recopy it. His originals are done in pencil, and then he sits at his kitchen table and recopies. He’s alays  riting, and he’s very, very, very prolic, prolic, ith a lot of little and big copositional copositional systes that he uses so that, as a coposer, he’s rearkably free of copositional angst in a ay. That is, he can keep riting pieces all the tie ithout any kind of riter’s block. Because he has evolved for hiself so any systes that he can put to use and recobine re cobine in lots of ays and produce pieces.” Thus, looking back

 

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at the usic of the 1980s–90s, Wolff had ostly hazy eories of their aking: “I often don’t reeber ho I ade those pieces. pieces . I ean I look at [one and say]: ‘Where the hell does this coe fro?’ I ish I kne, because people ask e and I’ a little ebarrassed to say that I just cannot reeber.”    To analyze the resultant scores is difcult. They often contain no easure nubers or explicit tie fraes for parsing or coparison. They run the full notational spectru fro siple, unannotated coon-practice coon-practice notation (see Bratislava, 1995) Bratislava, Song, 1988). Beteen  1995) to ostly coordination neues (see Digger Song, 1988). those to poles one nds the ajority of his scores: coon-practice notation interleaved ith utations of Wolff’s no “classic” ne notations and instructions, though never in the sae proportions or, indeed, ith the sae instructions or decisions delegated to perforers. This as Wolff’s ne trope on atoistic construction, no anifest not ithin single pieces alone but across the span of his entire opus, each piece loosely disconnected fro the others.   In these later orks, one feels a ne urgency urgency.. Wolff no sees ore ipatient ith and even ebarrassed by silence. Musical passages in hich one ight have expected gaps no get lled ith notes. The usic often doesn’t breathe so

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uch as gasp. Wolff no longer let sounds oat but ade it push forard. In his early orks, he had associated silence ith editation, conteplation. But politics required activis. Political usic couldn’t couldn’t eather the inertia inerti a that gaps of silence alloed. That usico-political activis continued in pieces not overtly ove rtly political.  “notey” Forusic, a long he tie Wolff had privileg privileged ed individual lines, not that chords. In his later tried to ake those lines all “of a character if they ere to happen all by theselves, ith absolutely nothing else going on, they ould still have a good usical presence”—in other ords, not just textural te xtural ller. By striving to aintain the quality of individual lines, Wolff felt that the eerging counterpoint ould have the proper density and integrity. The lines that populate these later orks tend to be long, tisting threads of pitches, ith or ithout values attached, lines of varying lengths ith little rhythic pacing or design that connoted incept, developent, or cadence. Soeties the pitches are “all over” in register, but at other ties notably constrained (as in the exercises) by the staff, a grid that attracts notes into its abitus. These elodic lines ost often consist of running sixteenth notes divided by edge shapes for indeterinate pauses (the length of these could vary idely fro player to player). The frequent coagulacoagulations of iediately repeated pitches (or pitch repetitions in close proxiity) create sall pockets of polarity, in hich the listener sees to hear a “center” eerging—a center that quickly dissipates. This late usic soeties sees a

 

species of sound design: no apparent underlying structural fraeork aside fro atois, à la Webern, yet highly ornaental.   Many solo pieces could convert to heterophonic enseble pieces via ritten instructions, instructio ns, for exaple, “playable for one or ore” of a given instruent; instruent ; or ith optional additional instruents alloed. As ith the exercises (a personal pers onal genre to unison becae  hich  hic h he he continue continued d to add fro the 1980s 1980s throug through h the the 1990s), 1990s), the unison  becae the point of reference for each solo or enseble e nseble piece: feel free to diverge slightly, slightly, but alays return to synchronicity ith the other player or players. By this tie  Wolf  W olfff had or orked ked it ith h ever everyy sor sortt of ins instru truent ent and co cobin binati ation on of ins instru truents ents via his earlier open-instruentation scores. Hearing and taking part in perforances of those scores for any years had attuned hi to instruental techniques and idios. Still, he continually returned to his on instruent, the piano.   On 16 Septeber 1979, Rzeski had ritten a letter to Wolff congratulating hi on the birth of his ne son s on (though “I couldn’t couldn’t ake out his nae,” nae,” Rzeski added, noting that Wolff’s handriting—a professorial scral—as “alost as illegible as y other’s.”) More pressing as his request: “I’ badly in need of ne piano pieces.” Rzeski, no a professor at the Royal Conservatory in Liège,

regularly toured the continent playing his on and his friends usic, including Music. After his Septeber  Wolff’  W olff’ss Bread and Roses  and  and Braverman Music. After Sept eber letter, let ter, Wolff sent  Hay Una Mujer Desapar Desaparecida ecida and Rzeski Hay Rzeski  and proised to rite ore piano usic. In the eantie, Ursula Oppens (ho had coissioned coissi oned Rzeski’s Rzeski’s The People United Will Never Be Deeated  ) and Russian pianist Yvar Mikhashoff both asked Wolff for ne pieces. This conuence of requests by virtuoso pianists led Wolff Wolff into a three year period period (1980 (1980–82) –82) in in hich hich he rote for alost alost nothin nothingg but piano. piano.   All of these ne orks used Wolff olff’’s “notey” style and four of the—Exercises 19–20 (to pianos) and 21–22 (piano four hands)—heavily favored octave (or larger) siultaneities and to-note treolandi that evoked nineteenth-centu nineteenth-century ry parlor usic, though ithout its tonal oorings. Preiered by Oppens and Rze ski, Exercises 19 and 20 (subtitled “Haron “Haronic ic Treors” and “Acres of Clas”)  ere ritten on a singl singlee grand staff for to piano pianos; s; Wolff instru instructs cts that player playerss can distribute aterial ater ial beteen pianists at ill, that is, dividing or doubling hatever they ant. Nevertheless, Wolff gives very specic instructions on the division of labor and interactions in a piece, as in this paragraph fro the perforance notes in the score to Exercise 19: On pages 5 and 6, three sections of seven measures each are marked by double bars (after which, following the double bar with a fermata over it, there is the last section). After these three sections have been played, any one or more can be repeated. The players should agree 73

 

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before hand whether or not they will repeat and how many sections they will repeat (so that they can meet to play the last section); but, if repeating, re peating, each player decides independently which of two (if it was decided to repeat two) she or he will repeat or in what order (if it was decided to repeat three) (i.e. different parts par ts of different sections may be combined); and whatever section a player may repeat he or she should only play one aspect of it, the melody line(s), the gurations, or the tremolos.12

  Like virtually all of Wolff’ olff’ss pieces fro this period, ones sense of usical progression derives largely fro the evolution of activity and textures fro beginning to end. Exercise 19, for exaple, begins ith an alost chorale preludelike stratication of half notes in one line and, in the other, sixteenth notes grouped in nontriadic arpeggio groups gr oups of ve, ith occasional rests. By the end, the texture has utated to an equally dense and active pair of lines increasingly laden ith treolos.   The ost poerful (and probably durable) of his ne piano usic fro these years as the set he rote for Mikhashoff, a book of eleven preludes Guide ould call “quite siply aong the (1980–81), hich the American the American Record Guide ould ost unusual and fascinating piano pieces of the second half of our century.”    Alost every one of the preludes is a study in a particular texture, character, or

pianistic technique. As is typical in this period of Wolff’s usic, they contain no tepo or dynaic indications (although he instructs that tepi can change within preludes). at double bars, i.e., within  preludes). All of the preludes are self-contained and have specic (overlapping) starting and ending dates of coposition given as postscripts. A scheatic of the set gives a nice précis of the kinds of techniques typically juxtaposed juxtapose d in Wolff’s Wolff’s late style:   1. One or to lines on bass staff throughout, though ith generous ledger lines (the highest note = D5); no barlines and ostly continuous sixteenth notes; epty spaces can be oitted, lled ith silence, or lled ith iprovisation.   2. Intersect Intersecting ing loops of fragents that gradually disasseble disasseble;; any dyads, though ith increasing nuber of octave siultaneities; a ide range of rhythic values, fro thirty-second notes to half notes.   3. The full range of the piano explored ith continuous very disjunct eighth notes until a double bar; thereafter, thereaft er, less disjunct continual conti nual sixteenths, sixteenths , punctuated by occasional eighth- or quarter-note rests.   4. Constant cross-cutting aong types of behavior behavior,, including tepi (alternating beteen 80 and 120), soeties as close as a bar apart; “x” noteheads used to indicate noises chosen by perforers.   5. A repeatable one-syste chorale of six- and seven-note chords in free

 

duration, ith iprovised histled or hued elody in unison rhyth ith the chords.   6. Continual sixteent sixteenth-note h-note runs (or eighth notes in the iddle section), ostly one extree register at a tie, increasingly increasingly oving fro single notes to dyads to to-part counterpoint to treolos.   7. Mostly sixteenth notes (or sextuplets and septuplets) in to-voice counterpoint (lines occasionally occasi onally in octaves), ade sporadic by feratas and other dividiv isions interrupting the otion.   8. Rhyth stratied at the start: elody in long values in right hand ith lo eighths and sixteenths running in the left hand; after a double bar, the left hand slos don to quarters and halfs, then both hands take up ostly disjunct note-to-note counterpoint counterpoint in eighths and soe sixteenths. (The longest prelude of the set? cf. no. 10.)   9. Very short, ith brief treoloes alost constant in the right hand, the left hand ostly aintaining a constant eighth-note otion ith any dyads and trichords for a rich loer texture.   10. Fe accidentals throughout, ostly disjunct eighths (then soe quarters) in an extreely disjunct three-voice counterpoint that ust be carefully divided

beteen hands; the last syste a hoorhythic four-part chorale in eighths and quarters. (The longest of the set? cf. no. 8.)   11. Starts ith a three- and four-voice chorale (based on the tune “Acres of Clas,” hich ith ne ords had lately been used for the capaign against a nuclear poer plant being built in Plyouth, Ne Hapshire); this appears in  hole notes (hole note = 30–80; not clear hether each hole note can have a different duration or if a tepo in this range ay be chosen for the passage); the chorale consists of a gradually shifting, enlarging, and contracting E b ajor pentatonic chord produced by the accuulating of the notes of the t he “Clas” tune; the rhythic chronoetry then accelerates into alost constant thirty-second notes, ith longer notes (essentially the “Clas” tune ith soe octave shifts) occasionally resonating against the, long notes cued to appear each tie the next note of the “Clas” tune appears.   His nonkeyboard solo orks of this period—incl period—including uding orks for ute, contrabass, electric guitar, snare dru, and koto—tended toard the jagged, halting lines one found in the piano pieces. At the sae tie, his duos, including any  ith  it h pia piano, no, oft often en had the giv give-an e-and-ta d-take, ke, shi shiftin ftingg rela relatio tionsh nships ips of to to-vo -voice ice Bar Baroqu oquee usic, though ith his hyperchroatic pitch vocabulary typically tied to epigraatic series of equal-note values. Moreover, he continued hat had no seeed 75

 

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necessary traits of his ensebles: in ost situations involving ultiple players, Wolff Wolff had either specic or optional contingencies for ho players ould relate to each other.. These often involved soe for of heterophony, other heterophony, the perforers playing their parts as ritten but not attepting to align or synchronize beats or attack points.   In larger cobinations, fro trios to octets, ixed instruental groups abound, standard cobinations (e.g., string quartet, brass quintet) never appear,  hethe  he therr due to the co cois issio sionin ningg art artist istss or a con contin tinuin uingg fas fascin cinati ation on it ith h het hetero erogegeneity. Unusual trios appear (e.g., ute-percussion-cello, saxophone-electric guitardouble bass); quartets and larger groups typically feature one or to inds, one or to brass, one or to strings, soeties piano, soeties percussion. pe rcussion. Meanhile, fro 1980 to 1999, there ere only to orks for open instruentation: Exercis instruentation: Exercisee  X, for seven or ore players (1993), and his next ork, Or 4 People (1994)  X, for People (1994) for one to four players—and an expected duration of eight to thirty-ve inutes.   Inspired by orks of Iannis Xenakis, Wolff frequently used percussion in these late-century late-cent ury orks, an instruentation atypical of his earlier years. years . In retrospect, retrospect , percussion had three obvious attractions. First, it as in a idground beteen er  as xed and open instruentation: the type of play of player   as deterinate, but often could orchestrate at ill (ithin loose paraeters). Second, Wolff could bypass issues

of pitch—alays vexing in this late hour of Western haronic vocabulary—and focus on rhythic counterpoint. Third, percussion brought a sense of political ilitancy into his usic. Although long given to the non-pulse-driven textures coon in late odernis, he anted no to turn to strong, decisive gestures and otives that characterized uch usic of the asses. Assertiveness, rather than passivity lled uch of the political usic he adired. Percussion helped infuse that trait into his ne orks.   A distinct personal genre Wolff developed in these years is hat he calls the “peace arch,” hose nae stes fro a conventional for of antiar protest in the 1960s–70s, in hich the quasi-ilitary act of arching becae an antiilitary stateent. This genre began ith a solo ute piece (based on “Hey Ho Nobody Hoe”) coposed after he and faily ebers had arched against the buildup of nuclear ars during 1983–84. This and later peace arches featured bold declaatory gestures, gestur es, oving forard in a archlike ay ith instruents—especially percussion—obliquely suggestive of ilitary bands. Yet Wolff alays varied the paraeters of these pieces. Consider, for exaple, to of the  ritten in succession succession:: Peace March 2 (ute, clarinet, cello, piano, percussion) and Peace March 3 (ute, cello, percussion). The latter obviously eploys a subset subse t of the instruents in the forer, but, typical of Wolff, subtly odies the instructions, as seen in table 2.

 

Comparison o Score Specifcations in Peac Peacee Marches 2 and 3 Peace March 2

Peace March 3

Tempo exible within given range

Tempo ree

Dynamics ree (to be determined by players)

Dynamics given

Pitch specifed

Pitches may be bent

Rhythm specifed (though see below); sixteenth- and thirty-second notes dominate

Given rhythms may be “bent”; no values shorter than eight-notes (grace notes excepted)

Playable on its own

Should be played with another Peace March

Other: (1) I any part is too difcult, it may be modifed (2) barlines may be construed as pauses

Other: (1) Play reely “as though getting out rom under pressure” (2) Play “angry,” i.e., “ocusing anger, in order to make it useul”

  A peace arch could be a free-st free-standing anding piece, a piece contingent on another piece, or, indeed indeed.. a oveent of a larger ork, o rk, as in the Bowery Preludes  (1985–86).  (1985–86).

 This set of ve preludes as ritten for the Boery Ensebl Enseblee in Ne York: ute, trobone, percussion, piano. They typify Wolff’s concerns and techniques fro this period as he ostensibly connects to social causes but obscures ith technique ost of the connections. Preludes 1, 3, and 5 are based on songs (see belo); the last of these preludes p reludes Wolff Wolff (in his progra notes) not es) called a peace arch. ar ch. Preludes 2 and 4, hoever, are not based on old songs but return to the open scoring of earlier pieces.   Each prelude differs in character and notation fro the others. Prelude 1 unfolds in agitated block-chord fanfares alternating ith contrapuntal duos that anser each other (ute-trobone against percussion-piano). Prelude 2 ethodically coordinates to different synchronized pairs of instruents (ute-piano and trobone-percussion) trobone-percussion ) in their rhyths, registe registers-tibres, rs-tibres, and, unusually for  Wolff,  W olff, dynaic dynaics. s. Prelude 3, priari priarily ly a single line played heteropho heterophonicall nicallyy ad lib, is the ost iediately disjunct and expansive in register, covering ve octaves in its rst three easures. Prelude 4 provides an interlude, interl ude, a brief to-part invention for piccolo and trobone. The nal prelude is essentially a quodlibet ith added unpitched sounds and free lines ebroidering the ain tunes.   The songs fro hich he derives elodies in the Bowery Preludes  link   link the piece to the civil rights oveent. With one exception (“Picket Line Song”),

 

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Figure 9. Sketch for the third of the Bowery Preludes. Wolff Preludes. Wolff Papers. Used by

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perission.

they have African Aerican origins or allusions: “Mary, Don’t You Weep,” “O Freedo,” “Set Don, Servant,” Se rvant,” and “Ain’t “Ain’t No Mo’ Cane in Dis Brazis.” Brazis .” As had becoe his custo, Wolff largely obscured the source tunes through esoteric ethods of transforation.   Beyond that, he encrusted the results ith quasi-severe techniques fro the  Middle Ages and and the Renaissanc Renaissance: e: hocket, hocket, ornaented cantus rus, and a general intereaving of lines, either stratied in soe ay (by character, norative rhythic values, register) or equal voiced. Wolff further transfors his aterial by directing the players to interact in various ays beyond the ere note-to-note note -to-note playing. Overall, the tones of the original tunes becoe seed crystals that Wolff gros (or allos to gro) in different directions direct ions fro oveent to oveent— and, siilarly, fro piece to piece. The seeds have political associations via their titles, texts, and social contexts. But the crystalline groth Wolff generates hides those associations, leaving leaving to titles and progra notes their interpretation.   Wolff tended to specify dynaics less than other paraeters paraeters.. This cae partly fro his afnity ith the Baroque, particularly his on keyboard playing

 

of Bach and Frescobaldi. As in those cases, Wolff anted his usic not to have one xed iage that depended on a certain dynaic schee. In other ords, dynaics should be the last thing that shaped a coposition. In early keyboard usic, dynaics ere siply deterined by the instruent being used (e.g., harpsichord, organ). And in ensebles, historically hist orically,, density deterined dynaics. dy naics.  The nuber of players playing deterined deterined loudness or softness. But for Wolff, the larger the enseble he chose, the less cofortable he felt leaving issues of balance to balance  to the players, especially given his constant ixing of vastly different differe nt types of instruents. One solution as to deterine players’ dynaics ith respect to one another (“louder than the other players”) or to the spectru of possible dynaics (“as softly as possible”). Nevertheless, he tended to use at dynaics only only, leaving diinuendo sens e.   ,But hatcrescendo to do ithoran orchestra?to the individual players’ expressive sense.   Turning to the orchestra, of course, potentiall potentiallyy eant Wolff ould have to upend his earlier use of “orchestra” for any sall enseble and to return it to t o its traditional eaning, hich iplied instruental failies, hoogeneous groups of tibres or conventional doublings and tibral blends. He also needed to lean aay fro the utual cuing of his chaber groups toard soething ore decisive and autocratic, including the shaping of group dynaics through con-

tutti, that  ventional sybols. sybols. One big question question ould be be that of the tutti,  that unique trait large ensebles possess to overhel the listener ith the sheer ass of sound.  That had been alost alost anathea to Wolff, ho relied on on spare, spare, copact gestures  juxtaposed,  juxta posed, ones hose relati relative ve unass unassertivene ertiveness ss spurn spurned ed stereot stereotypica ypicall oder odernis. nis.   Wolff had not studied orchestrat orchestration ion and had no odels of large-scale ultitibral craft that ould guide a ne orchestral coposer. He rarely thought chordally or in long, developental oveents. oveent s. Rather, Rather, he favored independent lines superiposed in iniatures. On the other hand, fro his study ith Cage,  Wolff  W olff kne ell Webern’s op. 21 Syph Syphony ony.. It exepl exeplied ied spare orches orchestral tral inter inter- eaving of lines as ell as brevity, especially especially in the sall variation segents of its second oveent.   Wolff olff’’s earliest orchestral pieces took tentativ tentativee steps into this ne doain.  Roses) (1983) He rote the rst, Exercise rst, Exercise 23 (Bread and Roses)  (1983) for a copetition. copetit ion. It didn’t 24, returned  in and reains unpublished unpublished and and unperfored. unperfored. Its sequel, Exercise sequel, Exercise 24, returned to the sae folk-song source via an orchestration of his four-hand piano piece,  Exercise 22 (“Bread and Roses or John”). John”). This  This ork adapted the piano piece for a  very sall orchestra (single inds, ith horns, trupet, trupet, piano, piano, and percussion), percussion), although the nature of the original alost deed any sense of elody or acco24 ore or less “colorizes” Exercise 22 by refraction, panient. Instead, Exercise Instead, Exercise 24 ore “colorizes” Exercise 22 by

 

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splitting lines and gestures into different (though usually blended) instruental instruental hybrids of color. Wolff also had another issue to contend ith: the desynchronization of piano parts called for in the earlier ork. He attepted a fairly literal translation of the effect by, at the proper ties, having the players subdivide into to groups that ould be conducted independently, though not straying too far apart in tepo.  Etceteraa   In Deceber 1986 Cage traveled to Japan for the preiere of his his Etceter 2/4 Orchestras, coissioned Orchestras, coissioned by the Suntory International Progra for Music Coposition. The Suntory beer bee r copany, copany, hich had given its nae to a concert conc ert hall in Tokyo, had begun coissioning ne orchestral pieces, each of hich becae the centerpiece for a progra at the hall. That progra ould include the piece, coissioned choicecoposer of “older”ho classicalcoissioned orchestral pieces, andthe orchestral usic coposer’s by another living the coissioned coposer regarded as congenial to his ork. When coissioned, Cage chose Wolff to fulll that latter role. At the tie Wolff only had 24. So he ade a second one to the one short orchestra piece to offer, Exercise offer,  Exercise 24. So a. This go ith it, titled ith the African ord Liyashisw ord Liyashiswa.  This brief ork for ediusized orchestra (oodinds in pairs, but including harp and to percussionists) alternated sections of aterial siilar to his Peace Marches ith elodic lines

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hocketed and cued fro one instruent to the next via coordination neues.   By the id-1980s the Ne York School had begun to ove fro the fringes of odernis into the Western historical canon. Fro Wolff’s ftieth birthday (1984) onard, retrospective concerts and preieres of his ne orks sharply increased, ost proinently in Ne York, York, London, Gerany, Gerany, and Japan (although (althoug h ad hoc perforances of his ost indeterinate orks, particularly Edges particularly Edges,, the Prose Collection and Collection  and the Exercises  the Exercises  ere  ere harder to t o track). In 1988–89, Wolff Wolff received receiv ed four paid coissions—the ost he had received in that span of tie so far. He also began to receive frequent grants fro the Meet the Coposer organization. In 1990 a section of Burdocks  appeared  appeared in anthology intended for university usic classes. In 1993 and 1995, intervies ith Wolff appeared in to books of con versations ith iportant iportant living living coposers. coposers.   But the Ne York School had also begun to erode after the unexpected death of Morton Feldan at the age of sixty-four in 1987 and the death ve years later of John Cage (eeks shy of his eightieth birthday).   Wolff olff’’s ideas had affected Cage’ Cage’s, s, as e have seen. But Wolff olff’’s earliest music   had decisively inuenced Feldan’s late usic. Though Wolff had long since abandoned his earliest pitch-restricted techniques in sall pieces, Feldan had resurrected the. Both Bunita Marcus and Orlando Jacinto Garcia recall Feld-

 

an in his last years speaking adiringly of Wolff’s Duo for Violins. The evidence of its inuence on Feldan is persuasive: tie and again, Feldan begins a ork ith ore than to inutes of a three- or four-pitch set, progressively  varying its rhyths rhyths and tibres. tibres.  For or Christian Wol     In his last year, Feldan rote a four-hour duo titled titled F (1986), hich he begins ith a set of four half-step related pitches deployed aong octaves and played in short polyrhythic gestures for the ork’s rst to pages—nearly ve inutes of usic. Although Although he did not learn of the piece or Christian until after Feldan died, Wolff hiself could not iss the point of F of For Wol: “the Wol:  “the connection ith e as that [it] referred back to soe of y earliest pieces, hich ere characterized by having a very sall nuber of pitches. . . . For a long tie, that’s all you get is these pitches shifting back and forth. It’s a gesture or recollection of the kind of usic that I did early on.”    Wolff, in turn, rote a piece for Feldan’ Feldan’ss death, death, F  For or Morty, Morty, part of a groing list of pieces pie ces naed for one or another friend, entor, or hero, ho as often connected ith politics or political usic.  By the id-1990s these included F included For or Cornelius  [Carde]   [Carde] (quartet, 1983), Rosas  1983),  Rosas  [Luxeburg   [Luxeburg and Parks] (duo, 1989–  Emma [Goldan] 90), Emma 90),  [Goldan] (trio, 1989), Ruth 1989), Ruth [Craford  [Craford Seeger] Seege r] (duo, 1991), Malvina 1991), Malvina    For or Si  [Kahn] Peggy   [Reynolds] (solo, 1989; then duo, 1992),  F   [Kahn] (quintet, 1992), Peggy or [Seeger] (solo or duo, 1993), and Merce and  Merce [Cunningha]  [Cunningha] (1–9 players, 1993). F 1993).  For

 Morty used three instruents that evoked Feldan’s  Morty used Feldan’s often delicate ringing chords:  vibraphone, glockenspiel, glockenspiel, and piano. Through uch of the piece, the resonant ultiovertoned tibres cobined ith echanistic rhyths to create a usic box texture, texture , though often a usic box as if designed designe d by Webern. Webern. The piece opens  ith unch uncharac aracteristi teristically cally pand pandiaton iatonic ic (i.e., “hi “hite-key” te-key”)) count counterpoin erpoint, t, alo alost st neoRenaissance in its siplicity. Accidentals gradually increase, unleashing the texture fro odality. The usic thins and fades, succeeded by a section consisting of strongly asserted siultaneities (ostly trichords and tetrachords), the ulticolored but siple-rhythed s iple-rhythed kind that abounded abo unded in Webern’ Webern’ss usic. A brief, alost indifferent, solo line eerges, and then the piece ore or less reprises the earlier aterial. The piece ends ith a run of sixteenth notes over a chord of silently eldman (F, depressed piano keys spelling the usical letters in F in Feldman  (F, E, D, A).   Wolff had anted to ake a piece for Cage’ Cage’ss eightiet eightieth h birthday in 1992. He had copleted only about half ha lf of it hen Cage died. Then, in 1996, an orchestral coission fro the Donaueschingen Donaues chingen Festival Festiv al revived the piece in Wolff Wolff’’s ind. But on 13 August 1996, four years and one day after Cage, David Tudor died. In copleting the ork during the next to years, Wolff ade it into a cobined eorial titled John, titled John, David.

 

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It had been preceded a year earlier by a kind of orchestral stepping-stone,

Spring. In February 1995 the Ne Hapshire Syphony Orchestra (a young Spring. In rival to the old Ne Hapshire Philharonic) had offered Wolff to hundred dollars to rite the a ne ork. Paid coissions still being a luxury, Wolff Spring, an coplied ith Spring,  an eighteen-inute, three-oveent piece for Beetho venian orchestra (oodinds (oodinds in pairs, sall sall string sections) but ith three percussionists. It exeplied Wolff’s reuse of aterials, not just in its derivation of gestures fro old elodies, but in its holesale contrafacture (as in the Baroque): Baroque ): the rst oveent essentially orchestrates the third of Wolff’s Black Song Organ Preludes  of  of nine years earlier. The second oveent is a collage of fragents, soe intact, others revaped via ell-established late-period techniques. As usual, the brevity of gestures gest ures bespeaks not so uch pointillis pointill is as ellipticality, as though continuities, continuitie s, extensions of ideas, and transitions beteen the had been oitted, oitted , bypassed, or excised. It seeed at ties alost a kind of sloganeering—or picketsignage—turned into usic. Only the third oveent delves into int o the contingent perforance practice practi ce of the 1970s, ith ultiple chaber groups superiposed, super iposed, players playing independently inde pendently or interdependently. inte rdependently. The autocracy of the conductor-tutti surrenders surre nders to the ore progressive prog ressive (and no coon) Wolfan Wolfan odel: deployent of “chaber usics coexisting.”  John, David  each   The to parts of the eightier eightier John,  each refer to its respective dedi-

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catee and each use different ethods. The “John” part originally as to have eighty “songs” in it, each containing fro one to t o eighty notes, not es, respectively respective ly.. Their order, procedure (onophonic, (onopho nic, heterophonic, or hocketed), and even superposisuperposi tion ould then be deterined by chance—one of the fe ties in his later ork that Wolff used chance procedures, an overt hoage to Cage on his birthday. Every set of ten songs ould also have its on particular particu lar traits (1–9 = loud; 10–19 = short durations; and so forth). Before Cage’s death Wolff had copleted only thirty of these songs, of hich sixteen ere superiposed on other songs.   Meanhile, the “David” part connected to Tudor ore obliquely. When Wolff had told his percussionist friend Robyn Schulkosky about this coission, she urged hi to be careful of the orchestra, questioning their ability to handle his kind of scoring. “Probably your yo ur safest bet,” Wolff recalls her saying, saying , “is to rite r ite a concerto, becau because se then you  ill be assured that at least the soloist has prepared their aterial beforehand.”  So he devised an elaborate solo part for percussion for her. He conceived of it ith the virtuosity vir tuosity of David Tudor Tudor in ind. The “David”  John, David  has of John, of  has four distinct sections, the rst three of hich consist of short, scherzolikee episodes. The rst derives fro the edieval scherzolik ediev al English song “Westryn “Westryn  Wind”;  Wi nd”; the second uses (in the chord chordal al passa passages ges of inds and brass brass)) several shape-

 

note hyns; the third spins its lines fro the Depression-era song “Hallelujah, “Hallelujah, I’ a Bu.” Throughout these sections, as is typical of Wolff’s orchestral usic, the orchestra is treated in a pieceeal ay. But in the fourth section, everybody takes up an uncharacteristic (for Wolff) tutti of sustained sounds, producing a kind of ailing that one ay hear as the foral laent of this eorial piece.   This last section uses a uniquely Wolfan version of recapitulation: he returns to a certain point in the piece, then collects pitches (not pitch classes, but pitches in their specic register), and begins playing the all again siultaneously: all E ats, for exaple, in their original durations, all Ds in their original durations, C sharps, Cs, and so on. Such a recapitulation begins extreely thickly, of course, but gradually thins as the different quantities and durations of pitches are used up. In this case, the end coes hen only three pitches reain. Fro so rigorous an additive procedure these long-held notes in all registers coe across as a assive, but plaintive, ail of grief. Moents such as this—hoever Apollonian the systeatic eans that generated the—differ so uch fro hat surrounds the that there sees to be, for the rst tie in Wolff’ Wolff’ss usic, a roantic sensibility sensibility..   But as draatic as the effect ight be, Wolff insists that his original intent  as ore surprise surprise than draa. He surrenders the piece, in a ay, ay, to a echaniechanical procedure as part of his personal resistance to anything that sees like illful rhetoric, a convention that bothers hi in ost usic since Beethoven: “It

strikes e as rather overblon or popous. It has a certain kind of holloness to it. If it’s really ell done it can be very poerful and oving, but it needs to have soe kind of ystery about it—here it’s coing fro and ho it’s acting.  And that’s that’s hat I try to do. do.””  John, David  at   As for the perforanc perforancee of of John,  at Donaueschingen, Wolff described it in ters one often hears aong conteporary coposers: the orchestra as underrehearsed, the players indifferent, and the rendition “passable, but not a  very happy experience. experience.””   The year 1996, Wolff olff’’s tenty-fth at Dartouth, began ith a university syposiu and usic usi c festival in i n his honor, titled “Christian Wolff: Wolff: The Coposer and the Classicist”: concerts, lectures, panel discussions, and even a booklet ith a ne retrospective essay by Wolff (“Sketch of a Stateent”), a list of orks, a discography, cography brief collation of stateents byedand about t he the coposer-classicist.  The title ,ofand theaevent uncharac unch aracterist teristical ically ly treat treated both prongs pron gs of his care career er equa equally lly.. One panel discussion featured his colleagues in classics speaking of his contributions as a teacher te acher and Greek scholar, particularly particularly of the plays of Euripides. Pressed to identify the link beteen his Greek scholarship and adventurous usic, Wolff balked. They ere utterly separate. But as there a connection ith the politics

 

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that fueled his ore recent usic? One of his colleagues thought Wolff sa in 

Euripides a protofeinis that resonated ith Wolff’s on.  Wolff hiself, of course, in his rst year at Dartouth, had used Plato to connect politics to ne usic. Only years later ould he nd a deeper connection: “Grappling ith that past, those tragic texts and their possible theatrical realization, real ization, in their difference, recalcitrance, and opaqueness, akes for a sense of openness and possibility.”  Even so, one could be forgiven for not recognizing the Cageian experientalist in  Wolff’  W olff’ss 1996– 1996–97 97 facu faculty lty produ productivi ctivity ty repor report, t, in hic hich h his goal goalss inclu included ded “On “Ongoing going research on the social, political and legal history of Athens in the latter part of the fth century BCE ith a vie to a book length study hich ould contextualize as fully as possible the draatic treatent of the yth of Orestes’ and Electra’s revenge (on their other and her lover for their father’s death) in Sophocles’  Electra,  Electr a, ith  ith additional literary contextualization in the surviving body of Attic tragedy (notably Aeschylus’ and Euripides’ versions of this ythic aterial).”   The year closed ith the announceent that Wolff had on the third biennial $50,000 John Cage Aard given by the Foundation for Conteporary Perforance Arts. He folloed in a line of recipients clearly tied to Cage: the rst,  Tudor,  T udor, and the t he second, Takahisa Takahisa Kosugi, ho since 1977 had been a resident coposer-perforer ith Cunningha’s dance troupe (the next recipient after  Wolff  W olff ould be Earle Bron). Asked hat he ould do ith this sudden indfa indfall, ll, 

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 Wolff rearked,  Wolff rearked, I ve got to kids kids on the ay to college. Need I say ore? ore?   In 1998, MusikT MusikTexte exte published the rst collection of Wolff olff’’s ritings, a hefty softbound bilingual book ith Geran on the left and English on the right.  Though Wolff Wolff deeed any contenders for inclusion “uniportan “uniportant” t” and “not Cues, gathered necessary” for such a book, the nal collation, Cues,  gathered together thirty-eight articles and intervies about his on and others’ ork (though only one essay fro his ork as classicist), fty-six progra notes, his verbal scores (ainly the Collection), a preface by Rzeski, and a ork list that ended ith Pulse, Pulse,   entire Prose Collection), the trupet and piano duo that folloed John, folloed John, David.   Copositionally,, Wolff seeed to reach a ne level of consolidation and Copositionally reneent in Pebbles  (1999),  (1999), a duo for violin and piano ritten alost forty years y ears after Wolff Wolff’’s previous duo d uo for those instruents. ins truents. The title as an acknoledgent acknol edgent that this is another collection of iniatures—though this tie in hoage to frequent iniaturist György Kurtág, ho Wolff Wolff had coe to kno and adire in the 1990s, calling hi “that ost poetic of coposers.” Wolff found the instruentation infelicitous, though. As he as riting the piece, he rote to Rzeski that he as “going crazy trying to rite for piano and violin!” But ve days after that coplaint, it as nished, though “hether or not it’ll ork I’ve no idea. idea.””

 

 

His strategy: an extree paring don of aterials. The piece presents an

elaborate dialogue-narrative dialogue-narrative in hich the listener proceeds through tenty-four tableaus, ranging roughly fro fteen seconds to four inutes in putative clock tie. Throughout the piece, the to instruents, as if speakers in a long, deepening conversation, continually restructure their relationship. For exaple, the piece begins ith a kind of introduction in hich each instruent sees to stake out for itself a distinct anner: the piano a orid solo bass line, the violin a brief pizzicato declaation. They then play in tande, the piano in running sixteenth notes, the violin against agains t it in boed dotted d otted eighths. eight hs. Soon, in the piano’s piano’s only to voice utterance, the keyboard assues both roles, after after hich the violin plays a long disjunct rhapsodic line above burbling groups of bass-clef sixteenths in the piano. In the sections that follo, e nd long responsorial passages ith piano and violin closely iitating each other in narro-ranged stuttering eighth notes (and later in the piece, sixteenth notes); both instruents playing terse gures in siilar otion; long soliloquies by the violin (rst a prosaic arco, then, just before the ork’s nal section, a chattering page of pizzicato); occasional short onologues onologu es by the piano; and so forth. Given the alost skeletal leanness of the lines and interactions beteen bet een the, after the rst four sections of the piece each subsequent one sees a transforation of one (or ore) that preceded it. The spacious constellationlike closing page sees, paradoxically, both a culination and a coda: by resebling none of the previous sections in gesture or texture, it

sees an arrival at a ne plateau and, at the sae tie, a digressive afterthought. Pebbles, his   By the tie Wolff rote Pebbles,  his virtuoso usic of the previous to decades had been perfored throughout Europe, Asia, and North Aerica. In the 1990s alone he had ritten thirty-seven thirty-s even ne orks, alost all of hich Peters had quickly put into print. Digital technology no alloed for inexpensive audio reproduction and, via copact discs, idespread diffusion of ne usic and nearglobal aareness of even the Ne York School’s ost adventurous usic. Thus, in the 1990s, 1990 s, fourteen different diffe rent labels labe ls issued Wolff Wolff recordings, recordi ngs, including Wergo, Wergo,  Vox,  V ox, EMI, and the ne labels HatArt and Mode, both of hich specialized in recordings of avant-garde and experiental orks. But the surprising coda to all this activity cae ith Wolff’s crossover into rock. Century,    In 1999, the alternati alternative ve rock band Sonic Youth recorded Goodbye 20th Century,  an albu of experiental “classical” pieces that as conceived and coproduced by ne usic usi c percussion percussi on virtuoso virtuos o Willia (Willie) Winant Winant and included i ncluded Wolff Wolff’’s  Edges  and Burdocks. Those  and a oveent fro Burdocks.  Those open scores ould allo the group (augented by Winant, Takehisa Takehisa Kosugi, Christian Chris tian Marclay Mar clay,, and Wolff Wolff hiself) his elf) to ork the pieces up in the studio, as rock groups typically did ith their on

 

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usic. Recording, of course, had alays transgressed the intended variability of indeterinate scores, xin xing g one version into takes an iplicitly rendition of an “open” ork. At the sae tie, ultiple and tapeauthentic splicing had alloed players and even coposers to construct an articial, sei-idealized recorded perforance fro a variety of actual in-studio perforances. While not accustoed to playing Wolff Wolff scores, score s, Sonic Youth Youth could provide soe s oe of the best iking, editing, and astering Wolff had encountered.   Although the albu as hardly a ass-arket success, it becae soething of a cult favorite as Sonic Youth (and Winant) toured estern Europe playing Century. This set a ne standard for the the strange repertoire of Goodbye 20th Century. This adjective “alternative” in alternative rock. And suddenly Christian Wolff (as ith  Varèse  V arèse hen prooted prooted by Frank Frank Zappa in the 1960s) becae becae a inor inor rock star, star,  ith fresh nae recognition aong the college crod of his children’s children’s generation—hile at the sae tie his on generation reained ostly indifferent to this usic that Rzeski had aptly said revealed “life’s unpredictability.”

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Among Friends, in a Private World

on 2 july 2002, earl e brown died. That event eve nt left Wolff

in a ne role: he as no the last surviving eber of the so-called Ne York

School of coposers. For any that ade hi the last abassador for a latter-day tradition that Cage had constructed and hose rst generation as no about to conclude. Four decades earlier earlie r Wolff Wolff had foreshadoed the t he creative box in hich he ight no nd hiself: in his dissertation he explains that he ould sho “the  various expressions expressions of the notion of of survival, its raications raications and conditions, conditions, in [Euripides’] later plays.” “Private survival, surv ival,”” he notes, “conicts ith efforts to save a counity,” counity,” that group that provides pr ovides “a sense of o f order” to living. living . But aid this dialectic, Euripides suggests, life is still “a for of exile hich is resolved only aong friends, in a private orld.”    For Wolff, surviving his Ne York School colleagues—or, ore to the point, soe of his closest friends—had its professional detrients. He ight be pegged as a erely recherché  artist,  artist, a relic of an outoded era. Consider the underlying or 1, 2, or bias in revies such as this fro the New the New York Times  in  in 2008: Wolff’s F Wolff’s For  3 People People as  as “a static hodgepodge of iscellaneous avant-gardiss avant-gardiss [that] felt like listening to the party bore ho entertains only hiself.” The groing disissal of experiental coposers such as Wolff Wolff partly reected re ected the press’ press’ss aning attenatten tion to “classical” usic itself, as ell as the gradual overheling of odernis oderni s

 

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by neoroanticis, postodernis, and, generally gener ally,, greater “listener friendliness” than, even in his ore deterinate and less overtly political usic, Wolff could offer. At the sae tie, the bad press ay have reected the soeties cavalier perforances of Wolff’s earlier usic. He had said in 1993 that “I a not . . . unduly anxious about the specic identity of any given piece, though soe eleent of recognition, especially if cobined ith eleents of surprise, is usually a pleasure.” Since soe of those orks had no entered the ne-usic canon, ore and ore players ho Wolff didn’t kno played the pieces under ciror 1, 2, 2, or 3 People People perforance custances he couldn’t oversee (the case in the F the For  perforance critiqued above), leading to interpretations far looser than the scores’ instructions required. This proble had begun at least as early as 1974, ith the Julius Eastan–led perforance of Burdocks  in   in Carnegie Hall, hose slapstick histrionics and sonic “tiddles and taddles” provoked sustained chuckling fro the audience for fteen inutes.   On the other hand, survival offered its laurels. In 2005 he as inducted into the Aerican Acadey of Arts and Sciences. Ne recordings kept appearing, one Wire agazine of hich Wire  agazine noted on its list of the fty best albus of 2006. W  Wolf olfff ’s ne alost patriarchal status got hi ore attention than hen his Ne York School colleagues thrived and he still orked as a professor. His “last-survivingeber” status headlined his billing at various events, for hich he received an increasing nuber of invitations. Intervies and retrospective articles pro-

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liferated as he becae the archivist and even archaeologist of not only his on, personal, history but that of U.S. experiental usic. Meanhile, as a bona de elder statesan of the avant garde, he could guest lecture fro the ost eclectic usical sources he ished. Consider his reading list for the Soe Music Issues class during his 2006 visiting professorship at the California Institute of the Arts: four books by Arthur C. Danto, to books apiece by Theodor Adorno and Alain Badiou, one each by John Ashbery, T. J. Clark, Nicholas Cook, Carl Dahlhaus,  John Deey, Deey, George Leonard, Leonard, Meyer Shapiro, Shapiro, “anything “anything by John Cage,” Cage,” and a recent collection of essays on, yes, the Ne York School.   He also received ore requests and coissions for ne orks. The rst decade of the tenty-rst century turned out to be the ost prolic of Wolff’s career: fro 2000 though 2010 he rote alost sixty ne orks—nearly half the nuber he had ritten during the previous prev ious forty years. Finding ore tie to copose, he consistently orked on one piece hile planning or entally outlining to or three ore. But though he as unquestionably an American an American experiental experientalist, Wolff Wolff had alost alays found ore receptive audiences abroad. He routinely traveled long distances to preieres, the large ajority of the in Europe.

 

Wolff the orld traveler seeed the coplete alter ego of the Wolff of does  tic private life. Each suer, one could nd hi helping bring in the hay and doing other chores on the Royalton far (both of Holly’s parents having passed aay, she no anaged the far). An avid faily an, he had alays helped the children ith hoeork (especially in foreign languages), even through their college years. years . Aid paying bills, gardening, and cooking, he had gone ith Holly and their four children to countless theater, dance, and usical perforances, including, to the kids’ occasional chagrin, those sparsely attended, puzzling ne usic concerts ith Christian’s on usic on the progra. The children noted his broad curiosity about sound in everything fro testing the tone quality of car parts to expounding on usical craft in sho tunes by Richard Rodgers. He freely  voiced to his children his vies on current current events but kept uch of his poleicis to hiself—though, according to daughter Tasen, “bad political nes is one of the fe things that can ake hi visibly upset.”  His fatherly inuence on all four children as, by all accounts, kindly but deep. Tristra explains that he learned fro both parents the value of “the good ork, the good ght [and] being part of a tradition, or being a nexus of any traditions, hose coon thread is change.”   The orchestral pieces Wolff rote in the opening decade of the tenty-r tenty-rst st century aply display the ultiplicity and diversity, coplication and juxtaposition of techniques and structures that ere no second nature. The provocateur of these large-scale orks as the Czech-born coposer and conductor Petr

Kotik, hodecades. had knon and chapioned the usic of Ne York School co Nine in posers for Although he had preiered Wolff’s Wolff’s Nine  in 1963 in Prague, he had a particular fondness for the “interactive” scores of Wolff ever since he hiself had played at the Burdocks Festival in 1972. The director of the S.E.M. Enseble in Ne York since 1970, he also began the Ostrava Days Festivals in the Czech Republic in 2001. Held in odd-nubered years, they have featured  Wolff  W olff as guest coposer and lecturer each tie. As of this t his riting, Wolff Wolff has  ritten four orchestral orchestral (or ultiorchestra ultiorchestral) l) pieces for Kotik. Gruppen     For an event in 1999, Kotik had decided to progra Stockhausen’s Gruppen for three orchestras, augented his regular Czech orchestra in order to perfor it, and booked perforances in Prague and Berlin. Since he had the setup for Gruppen is three orchestras—including orchestras—including three conductors and three stages—and Gruppen  is only around tenty inutes long, he asked Wolff and Alvin Lucier to copose ne three-orchestra pieces. Suddenly assive instruental forces becae available to Wolff. But, investing the tie required for such a ork, Wolff anted to copose one that ould have a life beyond its preiere. (He also anted it not

 

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David.) Returning to the spirit of Burdocks, Burdocks, Wolff to reseble John, reseble  John, David.)  Wolff coposed Ordinary Matter, a Matter, a ork hose title celebrated the sall percentage of cosic aterial perceptible via the huan senses. This piece has, he said, “hardly any score at all.” all .” Only one section as scored for all players, the other fourteen scored for subsets of the orchestra, or available to any players. Soe sections he called parasitic, in in that each requires another section to be played ith it. Gruppen’s   To enhance clarity, Wolff reduces the nuber of players fro Gruppen ’s 109 to 80, cutting the nuber of percussionis percussionists ts in half and oitting cellos altogether Passion perforance ithout cellos he had recently heard). (based on a St. Matthew Passion perforance He then akes the orchestras a ell of possible textures. The counterpoint results ainly fro loose, indeterinate parts, yielding juxtapositions or superpositions of tangled sound asses. asse s. Yet even ith its it s ultiple ensebles, ense bles, hich ould typically provoke extree polyphony, Ordinary Matter  contains  contains any passages here the usic nds rhythic and textural niches in hich to linger for longer stretches than in any of his other orks.   There are fteen sections, hich in soe cases overlap and span a spectru fro all three orchestras playing siultaneously to a transparent duo for harps. On one hand, a selection of players (up to the hole orchestra) ay ake very long sustained quiet sounds. On the other hand, all three orchestras ay have very exact rhythic procedures to follo, but the pitches reain unspecied (other than by a line to sho relative height). Players ust observe only the elodic contour. One section has a short stretch of solo aterial for everybody in the

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orchestras: eighty lines of aterial ith theline instruction that each player ust play his or her tentyorsolo tenty-ve-second anyhere ithin the allotted three inutes. Wolff expects each instruentalist to execute that task ith keen alertness to the hole: “If they have a little bit of a conscience they ill try not to destroy soething that’s going on quietly, or try to play quietly ith it . . . the  ay you ould ould in iprovisation. iprovisation.””   Various types of controls dearcate the sections. The rst section, extrapolated fro a solo-line solo-l ine piece he had ritten rit ten for Alvin Lucier’s Lucier’s seventieth seventi eth birthday, has elodic aterial adding up to seventy notes. The hole orchestra reads the aterial in the instruents’ on clefs and transpositions. This yields a variety of canonic transpositions and thus haronic density, richly deployed over the span of three orchestras on the stage—ith trupet 1, for exaple, being dozens of  yards aay aay fro fro trupet trupet 3. 3. Rhyths tend to be free, ith soe soe note values preprescribed, but relative tepi left open; durations of breaths soeties constrain the length of phrases; the techniques of coposing these lines derive fro coon  Wolfan  W olfan schees (especially the loops-on-a-grid concept). concept). The The second section

 

presents a variation on the rst (again ith seventy notes); a later section, hich opens ith the elody of a Shaker hyn, is scored for violins alone; to sections consist of prose instructions only; another section consists of four chords, each  ith fteen notes, played by thirteen instruents (strings play double stops); and so forth. The hole piece, hoever, is odular: the conductor ay use as uch or as little of the collection as he or she ants. With the unlikelihood of arshaling three orchestras for ore than this one occasion, Wolff anted to minimum   ensure that soe portions of the ork could survive beyond it. Thus, a minimum perforance could, in fact, be just the harp duet. Each of the sections reains relatively consistent, yielding a ore or less self-contain self-contained ed piece.   The folloing year Kotik invited Wolff to rite a saller ork for his S.E.M. chaber orchestra orchest ra in Ne Ne  York. York. For this, this , Wolff returned retu rned to his peace arch genre,  hich as no an alost reexive act of his usical personality—esp personality—especially ecially ith 8, said the backdrop of the second Aerican ar in Iraq. The title Peace March 8, said  Wolff,  W olff, refers to “the better choice, choice, hich ust ust be declared declared (‘March’). (‘March’). And especially hen the other ot her choice is about acquiring (yet ore) poer, because of, say, oil, hich is despicable, at assive cost, not least of huan life, not to ention huanity.” The ork unfolds as a kind of concerto grosso, a gallery of quasibravado oents replete ith assertive repeated-note fragents, soe dran fro peace songs. Within an eclectic pitch vocabulary vocabul ary,, it echoes vernacular bands (even fe and dru corps), cor ps), anthes, and chorales via sall ensebles, ensebl es, duos, even solo passages. The last section presents a variation on Hanns Eisler’s four-part

round, Song for Peace, ending ith a long oboe duo—this occurred to Wolff at the last inute, he said. Soeho, the piece needed a severe stripping don after tenty inutes of so uch activity—especially the dense Eislerian round and the orid solo sections, said Wolff, hich ade the nal duo “a nice, contrasting (siplifying, clarifying) conclusion.” It as “a bit like a nal chorale.”    The coposer and the conductor sparred, though, on atters of notational deterinacy. Wolff anted the open procedures left ore spontaneous; Kotik, as conductor, anted ore planning and up-front decisions. “The ‘culture’ of a standard orchestra or chestra doesn’t sit ell el l ith contingency, contingency,”” Wolff rote. rote . “It’s “It’s all about hierarchical control.” That tension lingered into 2005, hen Wolff produced his ost iposing one-orchestra ork yet ith the hypergeneric title Orchestra: Pieces. It is another suite of sall oveents (ve), each characterized by its Pieces. It on texture (or textures): the rst opening ith free-oating inds and strings (feratas over every note); the second ith fast, loud, terse fanfaring folloed by large juxtaposed blocks of sonority; the third, a violin solo ith sparse chaber accopanient; the fourth, ostly aphoristic calls and responses, including

 

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soe of his densest ultioctave doubling doubling yet; and the fth sloly evolving into another Tallis-inuenced sound ass.  Rhapsody for   In 2009 2009’’s Rhapsody  for three chaber orchestras, orchestras, the title anifests itself in the ood sings of its bold juxtapositions rather than in the sustained lyricis the title ight iply. What ost stands out in the ork, though, is Wolff’s ultiate tutti: ore than thirty easures (189–221) in hich all three orchestras play a single, ostly conjunct, treble line in unison. This passage—one of any here ultiple doublings thicken an abling line via roantic-style blended tibres— appears quite suddenly in the idst of his typical patchork quilt of textures and oods. And for the rst tie in his ork, a long solo line arguably becoes the draatic center of the piece.   What is least accessible about these four orchestral orks is their angularity of line and elliptical phrasing. What is ost accessible is their iniaturist sectionalis, reiniscent of, say, the second oveent of Webern’s op. 21. In any case, they have ade ore inroads into orchestral prograing in Europe than in the United States, constrained as the latter is by conservatis and a preference for ashy, coloristi coloristicc textures or overtly ov ertly neoroantic neoro antic thees. Wolff Wolff’’s relative ausa usterity in these orks refutes the current trends in his on (adopted) hoeland.   Music historians often gravitate toard large-ensebl large-enseblee pieces, as if size of forces constituted usical eight. But one cannot overlook Wolff’s tenty-rstcentury orks for saller groups, gro ups, even solos. He frequently returns, for exaple, to the piano. After a nuber of shorter pieces or collections of iniatures in the early 2000s, 2000s , Wolff received receiv ed in 2004 a coission to rite rit e a piece of approxiately approxiat ely

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an hour in duration, but not using ultiple oveents. Wolff, hoever, did not United.   ant to craft a set of variati variations, ons, even one as eclecti eclecticc as Rzesk Rzeski’ i’ss The People United.  So in Long in Long Piano, Wolff Piano, Wolff constructed hat ill probably be his largest solo piano piece, a virtuoso anthology of ninety-ve fragentary sections, ost of hich see to echo (or even quote) a portion of soe earlier piano piece of his. More a copendiu than a quilt, this ork is perhaps the closest thing e have to an encyclopedia of late-Wolff habits and predilections: long, widely spaced compound solo lines two-voice counterpoint in synchronized equal note values (usually eighth notes) stuttering repeated-note lines hocketed lines spread across registers rhythmically stratied two-voice counterpoint (i.e., longer notes against shorter notes) block chords in syncopated quasi-chorales restricted-pitch segments (e.g., no. 27) that closely resemble his earliest works

 

Such textures and arrays unfold ostly in conventional  notation   notation (though often  ith edges for indeterinate rests, as had becoe Wolff’ olff’ss custo). The ain breach ith conventional notation is the ork’s opening, hich begins ith a set of neues for ngers, not keys. (This as tagged on as a kind of prelude after he had ritten the rest and found that the piece as still too short in clock tie.)  The sections favor hyperchroatic pitch vocabulary, vocabulary, though interspersed ith alternative pitch collections—even diatonic ones (e.g., the hite-key section, no. 31). While the coposition and ordering of the segents as ainly intuitive, in at least one area of the piece he used an 11×11 agic square to set up the proportions and durations of eleven sections of the piece. Whatever the ethods, the effect is grandly prisatic: one detects faint echoes of Rzeski’s textural and United, the “all-over” jaggedness of Stockidioatic encyclopedis in The People United, the e, the hausen’s Klavierstücke, hausen’s Klavierstück  the broad canvases of late Feldan, and eeting allusions to Schoenberg, Schoenbe rg, Ives, Glass, and, of course, cours e, Wolff Wolff’’s on teenage te enage usic. us ic. Rzeski’s Rzeski’s response to the piece as siple: “right up y alley.”    If his orchestra orks aspire to the tutti and piano orks to the solo virtuosic,  Wolff’  W olff’ss chaber orks—of hich dozens ore appeared in this decade, soe again for open instruentation—usually instruentation—usually return to hat listeners and players kno best about his ork: a hyperconscious reactivity aong perforers propted by his notations and instructions. The original set of fourteen exercises (1974) had initiated a ne strategy of chaber usic upon hich subsequent subsequent exercises expanded. The set of tenty-to Microexercises  tenty-to Microexercises  (2006)  (2006) distills dist ills Wolff Wolff’’s ethods of coaxing usic fro avid perforers.

  Generally, no ore than one hundred sounds ere to be ade ithin each icroexercise. The ost coon notational layouts are onophonic (solo) lines line s or to-voice counterpoint. The ost coon variables are tepo, dynaics, order of events, and nuber of players, ith open clefs and octave doublings or transpositions left to the players. A fe icroexercises, though, stand out: one a slo elody ith percussion accopanient; a four-part round; a to-voice hocket; and four that uses the tie notations he had not used for ore than forty years. The copositional copositional ethods he used for these distilled pieces include ethodical transposition of pitches in folk elodies, partial rhythic iitation, recycling and perutation of notes in previous pieces in the set, general reorking of previous pieces in the set, and systeatic gestural reordering: reordering : that is, taking a series of terse gestures, nubering the (e.g., 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9) and then recasting the t he both ends en ds against the t he iddle (1, (1 , 9, 2, 8, 3, 7, 4, 6, 5), possibly ith it h soe free reordering (he calls these pattern breaks) along the ay (e.g., 1, 9, 2, 93

 

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8, 3, 7, 5, 4, 6). Except for soe genuinely free intuitive counterpoint here and there, Wolff usually uses soe sort of calculative process to arrive at his choices or constraints, even if he later forgets hat they ere. That alloance of forgetting, indeed, he values as a ay of not feeling bound by attepts to avoid selfrepetition: not knoing if you’ve already used a ethod allos it to see fresh in your ind each tie.   After all these years, has a distinctive Christian Wolff “voice” eerged? English critics soeties speak of “thubprints,” “thubprints,” as in, “so and so’s so’s thubprint is evident in this or that ork.” A thubprint is the kind of expressive presence that iediately identies say, Shostakovich, or Stravinsky, or Ives, or others. Wolff happily recalls that David Behran said to things about Wolff’ Wolff’ss usic: it as honest  and  and y. What it as unn as unny.  What accounts for f or the “honesty, “hones ty,”” Wolff believes bel ieves,, is a lack of pretens pr etense. e.  The usic is unassuing, unassuing, even unipressive. unipressive. It contains contains little obvious rhetoric, rhetoric, lacks the “in-your-face” assertiveness that characterizes odernis. Wolff Wolff puts it bluntly: “I notice that hen I go to a concert and y usic is there ith soebody else’s, I think, ‘Boy, look at that piece. It akes y usic look as if I don’t kno  hatt I’ doi  ha doing, ng, or that I coul could d use so soee co coposi position tion lesso lessons ns or so soethi ething. ng.’’ I don don’’t ind that at all, but it is quite striking, in soe cases the contrast beteen very elegantly constructed pieces full of ash and color [hile] ine sees very drab.”  As for the “fun “funny” ny” aspec aspect: t: “I on’ on’tt set set out out to be funny funny,, but if soeth soething ing coes out huorous I’ quite pleased ith that; I’ll let that be. And in soe ays it’s a ne quirky, I line. It’s peculiar—or quirky,  I guess, is a good ord for it.”   Certainly Wolff olff’’s orks ake one-ay trips. He avoids projectin projectingg reinis-

cences or recurrences for their on sake. For Wolff, progressive usic needs to reject recapitulation recapit ulation and, indeed, any sense of “arch” “arch” in the trajectory of the for. (Bartók’s arch fors, he rearked, seeed to “run against the grain of usic  hich oves through tie.”) tie.”) Although Wolff’s classic (i.e., best-knon) ork relies on concept, perforance practice, or political essaging, the large-scale late orks depend ore and ore on montage, montage, the  the aesthetic friction of juxtaposing sall contrasting oveents. By the tenty-rst century it becae clear that  Wolff’  W olff’ss long pieces ould be osaics, profuse suites of shorter oveents, often iniatures, played ithout interruption.   Still, in the latest orks, Wolff sees to ork intuitiv intuitively ely toard and achieve soe sort of organicis, hoever tenuous. It is true that, in soe ays, organic consistency pereated even the earliest orks. In those orks, by severely liiting pitch, no atter hat presued discontinuity he injected into the ordering orde ring of sections, the result seeed highly coherent. By paring don his aterials he could stay condent that sense ould eerge. “I approach pieceeal aterial ith the

 

greatest attention, guring that, if it’s as ell ade as I can ake it, each bit for itself (and using usually individual systeic procedures), the stitching together of these bits ill soeho add up.”   Despite his habitual copositio copositional nal routines and their prolic results since 2000, Wolff Wolff says he has yet to nd his “groove”: “groove ”: “I adired the late Feldan F eldan and Cage because it looked, fro the outside, like they got into these grooves here they just turned out asses of usic. I haven’t been able to do that yet, so every piece is a struggle. The pieces do see to keep coing, you kno, three, four, or ve a year. But it’s still hard ork.” The restlessness inside soe of his pieces is irrored in the restlessness beteen pieces. “It’s this hope that I ill think of soething ne to do. . . . I usually don’t, but just having that as a possibility”   propels hi forard. The evolution of Wolff’s style has irrored that of style periods, generally: to paraphrase Dahlhaus’ Dahlhaus’ss forulation, one nds ore extree stylization at the front end, ore eclecticis at the back end.   Perhaps unsurprisingly, in his later years Wolff has taken ore and ore endings. While interest in endings.  While sections of a ork often end unresolved, the hole  ork ust have in Wolff’ Wolff’ss vie a decisive ending beyond the ere cessation of sound. “What coes out (hat turns out to be) the end of a piece gets (fro the listener, as ell as coposer and perforers) pe rforers) a particular kind of attention, att ention, siply by virtue of being at the t he end, the last thing you hear/do hear/ do at that point.” One sees that ipulse in the striking endings of ost of the orchestral pieces or of  Long Piano, ith Piano,  ith its brief nal quotation of a traditional round (“Dona Nobis Pace”). Nevertheless, to end a piece is not to dee it nished. Wolff often recalls Cage’s

teaching hi that no piece is coplete until it has been perfored. In aking ne usical objects, one ay accuulate piles of sketchbooks and scores. But they still require playing to “exist” fully as pieces as pieces o music. ludens, “Man the player,   Wolff ay be the exeplary homo ludens, “Man play er,”” as Johan Huizinga Huiz inga labels our species, s pecies, play being its i ts object and design. As a young an, Wolff Wolff recalls, “I  asn’’t reall  asn reallyy into books books.. I as a jock. jock.”” As a doctoral student he chose to study the plays of Euripides. As a coposer he created alost theaterlike gaes, interplays of perforers’ roles and behaviors. The idea of “playing” ansered to of Wolff’s deepest concerns: freedo and learning. Even hen guided by rules, playing is freedo. The ter experiment  sees  sees to connote soething ore rigorous and goal driven. But as Huizinga faously rote, “Let y playing be y learning, and y learning be y playing.” That playing-as-learning dened one fundaental of  hatt had co  ha coee to be kno knon n as expe experi rienta entall us usic. ic. Just so, Wolff’ olff’ss os ostt pote potent nt gift to the orld of coposition coes in those scores in hich he insists that players  play,, ith all the ord’s hints of gaesanship, strategy, deftness, and attention.  play

 

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Figure 10. Christian  Wolff  W olff at the University University of Northern Colorado,  March 2010. Photo by  Joseph F. F. Haefeli. Haefeli. Used Used by perission.

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  So to end this survey of Wolff s life and ork e give a nal nod to Wolff the player—ith apologies for the verbal redundancy to ake a point: one thinks back to his tie at Friends Friend s Seinary, playing duos ith David Lein, Lei n, then to his continual playing in his on and others’ orks through the years, his ad hoc playing during his experiental usic courses and, in turn, in guest residencies at other schools, playing ith Carde and the AMM in the late 1960s, ongoing playing (and recording) recording ) ith British friends fr iends such as Eddie Prevost P revost and John Jo hn Tilbury, Tilbury, and his private (and occasionally public) playing ith Dartouth colleagues Larry Polansky and Kui Dong. Most of this playing has been, in soe ay or another, iprovisational.   Iprovising has invigorat invigorated ed the coposer as he approaches his eightiet eightieth h year. He iprovises regularly on piano and elodica, vocalizes in various ays, akes delicate noises on available surfaces, alays draing fro his private lexicon of ideas. If one can listen profusely, Wolff sees to do so just that, inserting ostly tentative, fragentary, onophonic gestures into the texture. Or consider this

 

“it’s gotten gotte n very loud and y feeling is that it’s it’s too loud, l oud, it’s it’s too uch. strategy: if “it’s . . . I’ alloed to stop playing entirely, or play very, very quietly, nearly inaudibly, until soeone can hear hat I’ doing.”  He approaches the task of iprovisation ith an enorous store of developental strategies and previously ritten fragents in his ind and hands. “When he iprovises,” says Willie Willie Winant, “it’s “it’s like he’s playing his on usic.” Even so, uch of his iprovisation, particularly ith Polansky and Kui Dong, attepts a blank slate: sl ate: “It’s “It’s better not to kno [hat you’re going to do]. And it’s ipossible to rehearse. In soe ay that’s an attraction. You just have to sort of jup in and see hat happens.”    Iprovisation keeps usic in hat ay be its ost fragile, even vulnerable ode. “The glory of it and the disaster of it,” he says, “is that you do it and it’s gone.” That speaks to our ties, Wolff Wolff believes: “The state of the orld is alar

ingly tentative, than ever on brink. Can usic be anything else?”   Reecting Reecti ngsees on Wore olff, Polansky saidthe that “because of Christi Christian’ an’ss huility, he ay get the short end of the stick, ore so than soeone ho’s put on a lot ore airs. But he’s just one of the band, really, and that’s all he really ants to be: just a usician playing usic. He doesn’t pretend to be anything other than that.” In the end, that ay be the ystery behind Wolff’s achieveents as a scholar and coposer: it is all a kind of profound playing in both the prial and advanced senses that Huizinga articulated. And for the “last surviving eber” of the Ne York School, the ability to keep playing ay be the greatest blessing. Life, as Wolff detected in Euripides, reains “a for of exile hich is resolved only aong friends, in a private orld.” But ithin that private orld of friends,  Wolff  W olff concluded, concluded, “survival is for for happiness and and pleasure.” pleasure.”

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notes

 Introduction   1. Since riting riting this, e gratefully itnessed the appearance of the rst scholarly book on Wolff’s usic, a handsoe collection of essays (to hich one of the present authors contributed): Stephen Chase and Philip Thoas, eds., Changing the System: The Music o Christian Wol  (Surrey,  (Surrey, U.K.: Ashgate, 2010).   2. Christian Wolff, Cues: Writings Writings and Conversations  Conversa tions  (Köln,  (Köln, Gerany: G erany: MusikT MusikTexte, exte, 1998), 104.   3. Cole Gagne, Soundpieces 2: Interviews Inter views with American Composers  (Metuchen,  (Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecro Press, 1993), 447.   4. Wolf olff, f, Cues , 154. See also the discussion in Mark D. Nelson, “Social Dynaics at the Heart of Coposition: Iplications of Christian Wolff’s Indeterinate Music,” Contem porary  por ary Music Forum 1 (1989): 3–14.   5. Frederic Rzeski to Wolff, 10 October 1985, in Wolff’ olff’ss personal archive, hich he kindly shared ith the th e authors. Hereafter cited as Wolff Papers.

Chapter 1. Orpheus in Tennis Sneakers    1. Kurt Wolff quoted by Helen Wolff (at in. 6:32) in the Richard Kaplan docuenta docuentary ry l The Exiles  (Connoisseur  (Connoisseur Hoe Video, 1989).   2. Kurt Wolff quoted in Michael Erarth, ed., Kurt Wol: Wol: A Portrait Portrait in Essays and Letters, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 19.   3. Kurt Wolff quoted by Helen Wolff (at in. 1:49:16) in The Exiles.   4. For the Wolff faily chronology, see Günter Grass and Helen Wolff, Briee 1959–  1994, ed. Daniela Heres (Göttingen, Gerany: Steidl, 2003), 555–61.   5. On the history of Pantheon, see Steven John Schuyler, Schuyler, “Kurt Wolff and Herann Broch: Publisher and an d Author in Exile” (PhD (Ph D dissertation, Harvard University, 1984).   6. Helen Wolff (at in. 1:00:36) in The Exiles.   7. Barbara Weidle, “Hard Work—Deterination, ork—Deterination,”” (intervie in in Geran ith Christian Wolff), Wolff), in Barbara Weidle, ed., Kurt Wol: Ein Liter Literat at und Gentleman (Bonn, Gerany:  Weidle  W eidle Verlag, Verlag, 2007), 169–79 (Hicks’ (Hicks’ss translation). tran slation). Other inforation here is also fro  Weidle.  W eidle.

 

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| Notes to Chapters 1 and 2

  8. Wolff to Michael Hicks, eail 29 April 2008.   9. Ibid.; Calvert Watkins, intervie by Michael Hicks, 3 June 2008.   10. Christ Christian ian Wolff, “Music— “Music—Experi Experient—Ed ent—Education ucation,” ,” Sonus  26,  26, no. 1 (Fall 2005): 200 5): 20.  Wolff’  W olff’ss visits to jazz clubs are detailed in Watkins, Watkins, intervie by Hicks.   11. Wolff, intervie by Hicks, 27 March 2010.   12. Watkins, intervie by Hicks.   13. “Morton Feldan Slee Lecture, April 15, 1973, 1973,”” ublib.buffalo.edu/libraries/units/  usic/spcoll/feldan/fslee326.htl (accessed 21 February 2006).   14. Jean-Jacques Nattiez, ed., The Boulez-Cage Correspondence, trans. and ed. Robert Sauels (Cabridge and a nd Ne York: York: Cabridge University Press, 1993), 56–57.   15. Ibid., 55.   16. Wolff has talked often about the assigne assignents nts Cage gave hi. See, for exaple exaple,, Cole Gagne, Soundpieces 2: Interviews with American Composers  (Metuchen,  (Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecro Press, 1993), 444–45; Willia Duckorth, Talking Music: Conversations with John Cage, Philip Glass, Laurie Anderson, and Five Generations o American Experimental Composers  (Ne  (N e York: York: Schirer Books, 1995), 185–86.   17. Christian Wolff, “Experiental Music around 1950 and Soe Consequences and Causes (Social-Political and Musical),” American Music  27  27 (Winter 2009): 426.   18. David Patterson, “Cage and Beyond: An Annotated Intervie ith Christian Wolff,” Perspectives Per spectives o New Music  32  32 (1994): 61.   19. Kyle Gann explains nicely the the appeal of gauts: “Liitation of sonorities aids in creating the identity of a piece, and allos the coposer to create eaning ithout relying on syntax analogous to the tonal syste. It can also be a kind k ind of second-order coposing,  orking ith ore evolved sonorities instead of individual notes, hich can get kind of tiring.” Reply to “ALS,” 14 July 2008, in coent thread for Gann’s “Wheels Turning,”  .artsjour   .artsjournal.co/po nal.co/postclassi stclassic/2008/07/ c/2008/07/heels_tur heels_turning.htl ning.htl (accessed 5 October October 2008).   20. Five orks orks ritten ritten in the telve telve onths after the the Duo for Violi Violins ns have been ithithdran orviolin), lost by an Wolff: Wolff: Song (forfor v oice, voice, trupet Four Parts ute and untitled ork ute, clarinet,and andtrobone), violin (not Suite to be in confused ith(for the

99

Serenade fro this period), In the Beginning  (for  (for to percussionists), and It Being Being Christmas  Christmas   (for percussion). One of note fro this period, recently published but seeingly unrelated to any of these other orks in its technique is the  Madrigals  for  for three voices, hich abandoned specied pitch altogether: Wolff specied the rhyths and phonees, but represented pitch only by distance above or belo a center line representing a cofortable idrange for each respective singer.   21. The coposition of that trio is discussed in David Nicholls, “Getting Rid of the Glue: The Music of the Ne York York School,” in Steven Johnson, ed., The New York York Schools o  Music and the Visual Visual Arts  (Ne  (Ne York: Routledge, 2001), 39–41.   22. Nattie Nattiez, z, Boulez-Cage Correspondence, 108.   23. This and the folloing quotes in this paragraph are fro Cage, Silence, 71–72.   24. Wolff to Michael Hicks, eail 25 Septeber 2008.   25. John Cage to David Tudor, undate undated d letter (ca. Octobe Octoberr 1951) 1951),, David Tudor Papers Papers,, Getty Research Institute, Special Collections.   26. Wolff, intervie by Michael Hicks, 9 March 2006.

 

John Cage (ith handritten note by Christian Christian Wolff), suer   27. Pierre Boulez to John 1951, in Nattiez, Boulez-Cage Correspondence, 97.   28. Wolff also refers to nine dynaics and nine “rhythic congurations,” though these see less apparent.   29. Morton Feldan, Give My Regards to Eighth Street: Collected Writings Writings o Morton Feldman, ed. B. H. Friedan (Cabridge, Mass.: Exact Change, C hange, 2000), 119.   30. F  For or the Birds: Birds: John John Cage in Conversation Conversation with Daniel Charles  (Boston:  (Boston: Marion Boyars, 1981; originally published in French, 1976),   31. Austin Clarkson traces the English publication history of the  I Ching  in   in David Bernstein and Christopher Hatch, Ha tch, eds., Writings through John Cage’s Music, Poetry and Art   (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 84–86.   32. Duckorth, Talking Music, 188.   33. Richard Kostelanetz, cop. and ed., John Cage, Writer: Previously Uncollected Pieces   (Ne York: Lielight, 1993), 72.   34. John Cage to Helen Wolff, “12.E.17” [1954], reprinted in Musik Texte 106 (August 2005): 48–49.   35. “A Chance Encounter ith Christian Wolff” (Intervie ith Frank J. J. Oteri, 11 January 2002), .neusicbox .neusicbox.org/35/interv .org/35/intervie_olff.pdf ie_olff.pdf (accessed (acc essed 21 February 2006), sec. 3 (“Interpreting Indeterinate Music”). In the sae source: “I still had those paraenters, and I still had to go to school during the day and stuff like that! So to that extent, clearly  e ere in a slightly different orld.” orld.”   36. Feldan, Give My Regards to Eighth Street, 16.

Chapter 2. Situations o Too Extreme Difculty: 1951–1959   1. See “T “To o Coposers on Aerican Music at Mid-Century: Walter Piston in Con versation ith Wilfrid Wilfrid Mellers, 1962, 1962,”” American Music  28  28 (Spring 2010): 123–24.  Piano 2. For an overvie of W olff’ss piano olff’ riting, see Philip Pianist:The TheMusic Solo Music,” in Stephen Chase and Philip Thoas, eds.,Thoas, Changing“For the System: o Christian Wol  (Surrey,  (Surrey, U.K.: Ashgate, 2010), 51–91.

  3. Those brief brief essays appeared in the short-lived short-lived Ne York journal Trans/ormation  (1952). Wolff’s contribution is reprinted in Christian Wolff, Cues: Writings and Conversations  (Köln,  (Köln, Gerany: MusikTexte, 1998), 20–22.   4. “T “Tudor udor Tries Hand at Experi Experientin enting,” g,” New York Times, 2 January 1952, 20.   5. “J. B.,” “Look “Look,, No Hands Hands!! And It’ It’ss ‘Music,’” New York Times, 15 April 1954.   6. Steven John Schuyler, “Kurt Wolff and Herann Broch: Publisher and Author in Exile” (PhD dissertation, Harvard University, 1984), 79.   7. David Tudor to Karlheinz Stockhausen, 4 Noveber 1955, in Ike Misch Misch and Markus Bandur, Karlheinz Stockhausen Stockhausen bei den Internationalen Ferienkursen Ferienkursen ür Neue Musik in Darm stadt 1951–1996 1951–1996:: Dokumente Dokumente und Briee (Kürten, Gerany: Stockhausen-Stiftung für Musik, 2001), 115. Hereafter cited as Misch and Bandur, Dokumente und Briee.   8. Wolff to John John Cage, 5 February [1956], John Cage Collection, Northestern Uni versity Library. Library. Hereafter cited as Cage Collection.   9. John Cage to Wolff, 28 March 1956, Wolff Papers; Wolff to Cage, 8 April 1956, Cage Collection.

 

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| Notes to Chapters 2 and 3

  10. “Frederic Rzeski Visits Aerica: A Conversation ith ith Frank J. J. Oteri @ Nonesuch Records, NYC on John Cage’s Birthday (Septeber 5, 2002),” 2, at http://neusicbox .org/43/rzeski_intervie.pdf .org/43/rzeski_intervie .pdf (accessed 11 February 2011).   11. See his coents in “On Deceber 1952, 1952,”” American Music  26  26 (Spring 2008): 1–12.   12. “Christia “Christian n Wolff Seinar (an excerpt).” Fro Ostrava Days 2003 Report  at   at   .ocnh.cz/days2003_lectures_olff.ht (accessed 11 February 2011).   13. Ibid.   14. There is soe uncertainty on Wolff’s part as to the chronology here, i.e., to hat extent the “prototype” piece he prepared ith Rzeski for perforance in spring 1957 actually as or becae the Duo 1 score hose fair copy is dated (and as preiered) in Deceber 1957.   15. John Holzaepfel, “Reiniscen “Reiniscences ces of a Tentieth-Century Pianist: An Intervie ith David Dav id Tudor,” Musical Quarterly 78 (1994): 636.   16. Tudor rites about an “incident” beteen Cage and Boulez on this issue—an episode of the groing breach beteen the to coposers—in a letter to Stockhausen, 12  March 1957, in Misch and Bandur, Bandur, Dokumente und Briee, 162.   17. John Cage to Wolff, 18 April 1960, Wolff Papers Papers..   18. “Intervie “Intervie  ith Roger Reynolds, 1962,” in Elliott Schartz and Barney Childs, eds., Contemporary Composers on Contemporary Music  (Ne  (N e York: York: Holt, H olt, Rinehart and Winston, 1967), 340.   19. John Cage,  A Year Year rom Monday (Middleton, Conn.: Wesleyan University Un iversity Press, 1969), 136.   20. John Cage, Silence (Middleton, Conn.: Wesleyan University Press, 1961), 38.   21. “Intervie ith Roger Reynolds, 1962, 1962,”” 340.   22. “John Cage and Roger Reynolds: A Conversation, Conversation,”” Musical Quarterly 65 (October 1979): 582–83.   23. For a discuss discussion ion of Tudor’ udor’ss score preparation, preparation , see John Holzae Holzaepfel, pfel, “David Tudor Tudor and Perforance Aerican dissertation, n, Citythe University of NeofYork, 1994).Experiental Music 1950–1959” (PhD dissertatio   24. Holzaepfel, “Reiniscences of a Tentieth-Century Pianist, Pianist,”” 636.

101

  25. Carolyn Bron, Chance and Circumstance: Twenty Years with Cage and Cunningham  (Ne York: Knopf, 2007), 39.   26. Frederic Rzeski to Wolff, letter 9 August 1959, Wolff Papers, original ephasis.   27. Frederic Rzeski Rzeski to Wolff, letter 21 August 1959, Wolff Papers.   28. Doris Hering, quoted in Bron, Chance and Circumstance, 253, ephasis on the ord  sparsely added.   29. Cornelius Carde Carde,, “Notation: Interpretation, Etc., Etc.,”” Tempo 58 (Suer 1961): 21–23.   30. Cornelius Carde quoted in John Tilbury Tilbury,, Cornelius Cardew (1936–1981): A Lie Unfnished  (Essex,  (Essex, U.K.: Copula, 2008), 89.   31. Wolff to John Cage and Merce Merce Cunningha, July [date ater daaged, but 1959], Cage Collection.

 

Chapter 3. Vast, Sparse Areas o Possibility: 1960–1969  

1. Burdet Burdette te C. Stap Stapley, ley, “T “To o Who It May Conc Concern,” ern,” letter 20 April 1961, Wolff

Papers.   2. Originally published in Geran in Die Reihe 7 (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1960), then in English in the sae issue published in London, 1965.   3. Frederic Rzeski to Wolff, letter 13 Noveber 1964, Wolff Papers.   4. Reprinted in Christi Christian an Wolff, Cues: Writings and Conversations  (Köln,  (Köln, Gerany: Musik Texte,  T exte, 1998) 52–54.   5. Christi Christian an George Wolff, “Aspect Aspectss of the Later Plays of Euripides Euripides”” (PhD disserta dissertation, tion, Harvard University, 1963), 1–2.   6. PEN quoted in Günter Grass and Helen Wolff, Briee 1959–1994, ed. Daniela Heres (Göttingen, Gerany: Steidl, 2003), 560.   7. See John Cage and Morton Feldan, Radio Happenings (I–V, (I–V, recorded at WBAI, Ne York York City, July 1966–January 1967). At http://.radio.org http://.radio.org (accessed 25 Noveber 2011) These have also been transcribed and published as  Radio Happenings I–V: Conversations/Gespräche (Köln, Gerany: MusikTexte, 1993). For the contexts, iplications, and detailed citations of all these quotations, see Michael Hicks, “‘Our Webern’: Cage and Feldan’s Devotion to Christian Wolff,” Wolff,” in Stephen Chase and Philip Thoas, eds., Changing the System: The Music o Christian Wol  Wol  (Surrey,  (Surrey, U.K.: Ashgate, 2010), 3–5.   8. For ore ore on this, see Michael Hicks, “Mass Marketing the Aerican Avant Garde 1967–1971,” unpublished paper delivered at the Open Space Festival of Ne Music, 25  March 2010, University of Northern Colorado; an earlier earlier,, shorter version as delivered at the Society for Aerican Music Annual Meeting, 19 March 2009, Denver, Colorado.   9. Wolff to John Cage, 2 October 1967, John Cage Collection, Northestern University Library. Library. Hereafter cited as Cage C age Collection.   10. The 1960 eeting occurred hen Carde lived in Cologne, assisting Stockhausen, and Wolff Wolff took a leave fro his ary post to visit Cage and Cunningha, Cun ningha, ho ere then  visiting Cologne.   11. Frederic Rzeski to Wolff, letter 16 July 1968, Wolff Papers; Wolff to Hicks, 31

 May 2008, Wolff Papers.   12. See the detailed explanation of this collection in Cleens Gresser Gresser,, “Prose Collection:  The Perforer and Listener as Co-Creator,” Co-Creator,” in Chase and Thoas, Changing the System, 193–209.   13. Cornel Cornelius ius Carde Carde , revie of Prose Collection by Christian Wolff, Musical Times  110,  110, no. 1521 (Noveber 1969): 1171.   14. Cornelius Carde to Wolff, letter 31 August 1969, Wolff Papers.   15. John Cage to Noran Doenges (then chairan of of the Departent of Classics at Dartouth) letter 11 April 1969, Wolff Wolff Papers.   16. Wolff to Michae Michaell Hicks Hicks,, eail 10 June 2010. With an infant and a toddler, Wolff recalls, there ere “lots of excursions to the zoo.”

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| Notes to Chapters 4 and 5

Chapter 4. Let Playing Be Composition and Composition Playing: 1969–1974  

1. John Tilbury to Christ Christian ian Wolff, letter 23 June 1969. Wolff Papers Papers..

  2. Originally published in the Treatise Handbook (1971), this docuent is no available free online at http://.scribd.co/doc/32913735/Cornelius-Carde-Ethic-of-Iprohttp://.scribd.co/doc/32913735/Cornelius-Carde-Ethic-of-Ipro visation (accessed 11 February 2011).   3. Christian Wolff, Cues: Writings Writings and Conversations  Conversat ions  (Köln,  (Köln , Gerany: MusikT MusikTexte, exte, 1998), 86.   4. The albu as An Anthology o o Arican Music , vol. 3, Ba-Benzélé Pygmies  (Bärenreiter (Bärenreiter Musicaphon BM 30 L 2303, 1965).   5. Cornel Cornelius ius Carde to Wolff, letter 9 Septe Septeber ber 1971, Wolff Papers.   6. Cornelius Carde, Stockhausen Serves Imperialism Imperial ism and Other Articles  (London:  (London: Latier Ne Diensions), 40.   7. The quotations are fro a page that bears the heading “Fro notes ade in the Suer of 1972, occasioned by Cornelius Carde’s Marxist-Maoist criticis of John Cage’s usicHolly (no Wolff.” reprinted in C.C.’s  ith W olff.” Wolff Papers.book Stockhausen Serves Imperialism) and by conversation   8. Aong the any sources that treat treat this division, see especially Wolff, “Moral Issues Issues and Musical Practices” (1992), Cues , 392–94.   9. On this hole area of Wolff’ olff’ss career, career, see David Ryan, “Changing the Syste: Indeterinacy and Politics in the Early 1970s, 1970s,”” and Stephen Chase, C hase, “‘There Is Alays a Tie’:  Words  W ords,, Musi Music, c, Polit Politics ics and Voice, oice,”” both in Steph Stephen en Chase and Phili Philip p Thoas Thoas,, eds., Changing the System: The Music o Christian Wol  Wol  (Surrey,  (Surrey, U.K.: U.K.: Ashgate, 2010), 143–69 and 170–89, 170– 89, respectively.   10. Wolff to Cornelius Carde, Carde, letter 21 July 1972 (ith annotat annotations ions by Carde), Wolff Papers.   11. The authoritative authoritative source source here is Ay C. Beal, “Christian Wolff in Darstadt, 1972 and 1974,” in Chase and an d Thoas, Changing the System, 23–47.   12. For one account of fello fello coposers’ irritation and Feldan’s Feldan’s outburst see John John  Tilbury,, Cornelius Cardew (1936–1981): A Lie Unfnished  (Essex,  Tilbury  (Essex, U.K.: Copula, 2008), 605.

  13. Reprint Reprinted ed in Wolff, Wha Whatt Are We Doing? Cues , 98.   14. Perforances notes to Accompaniments , in Wolff, Cues , 498.   15. Pantheon’ Pantheon’ss 1970 edition of Jan Myrdal and Gun Kessle’ Kessle’ss China: The Revolution Continued  as  as the rst U.S. edition, translated translated fro Sedish by Paul Britten Austin.   16. Donal Henahan, “Four Conteporary Piano Pieces Add Ne Tone to the Whitney,” New York Times, 25 March 1970, 37.   17. Brian Dennis, “Music in London: Druing, cpe,” Musical Times  113,   113, no. 1550 (April 1972): 382.   18. John Cage quoted quoted in Frederic Frederic Rzeski, “The Algebra of Everyday Life, Life,”” the preface preface to Wolff, Cues, 10.   19. This and the preceding quotation are fro Wolff, “let the listeners be be just as free as the players,” Cues , 80.   20. See Richard Dufallo, Trackings: Composers Speak with Richard Duallo  (Ne York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 231–32. This episode is also discussed by Cage and Wolff Wolff

 

in Willia Duckorth, Talking Music: Conversations with John Cage, Philip Glass, Laurie  Anderson, and Five Generations o American Experimental Composers  (Ne   (Ne York: Schirer Books, 1995), 16 and 187.   21. Wolff talks about about this this in in David Patterson, “Cage and Beyond: An Annotated InterInter vie ith Christian Wolff, Wolff,”” Perspecti Perspectives ves o New Music  32  32 (1994): 72.   22. Dufall Dufallo, o, Trackings , 121–22.   23. F  For or the Birds: Birds: John John Cage in Conversation Conversation with Daniel Charles  (Boston:  (Boston: Marion Boyars, 1981; originally published in French, 1976), 136. The concert is revieed in Henahan, “Four Conteporary Piano Pieces Add Ne Tone.”   24. Wolff, intervie by Michael Hicks, 9 March 2006. Krenek as idely held to be a second-tier telve-tone coposer coposer..   25. Feldan in Morton Feldan, Give My Regards to Eighth Street: Collected Writings o  Morton Feldman, Feldman, ed. B. H. Friedan (Cabridge, Mass.: Exact Change, Ch ange, 2000), 118–19.   26. In “Morton Feldan Slee Lecture, April 15, 1973, 1973,”” http://ublib.buffalo.edu/ http://ublib.buffalo.edu/libraries/  libraries/  units/usic/spcoll/feldan/fslee326.htl (accessed 30 Noveber 2011).

Chapter 5. Something More Specifcally “Musical”: 1973–1984   1. Wolff gave versions of this address address at least three ore ties at other schools during during the 1970s. While full reading copies have been lost, e rely on the set of notes he sent to Cage in 1974 (full citation belo) as ell as Wolff’ Wolff’ss detailed recollections of the speech.   2. Fro the conclusion of Carde, “A Report on the Concert” (20 May 1973), reprinted in Chapter 3 of his Stockhausen Serves Imperialism.   3. John Tilbury, “Chris “Christian tian Wolff and the Politic Politicss of Music,” notes to Christ Christian ian Wolff:  Long Piano (Pea (Peace ce March March 11), NeWo  NeWorld rld Records 80699 and available online at http://  .neorldrecords.org/uploads/le9CQrs.pdf (accessed 11 February 2011).   4. John Cage to Wolff, letter 17 Janua January ry 1974, Wolff Paper Papers. s.   5. Wolff to John Cage Cage,, letter 15 March [1974], Wolff Papers Papers..   6. According to to David Bernstein, “Soe of Wolff’s transforations of source elodies elodies bring to ind techniques used by Cage in Cheap Imitation (1969),  Apartment House 1776   (1976), Quartets I–VIII  (1976),   (1976), soe of the  Harmony o the Maine  (1978), and  Hymns and

Variations  (1979)”  (1979)” (eail to authors, 1 July 2011).   7. John A. Loax and Alan Loax, F  Folk olk Song U.S U.S.A. .A. (Ne York: York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, Pearce , 1947).   8. Christ Christian ian Wolff, “Music “Music—Exper —Experient— ient—Educat Education,” ion,” Sonus  26  26 (Fall 2005): 29. Cage, though, it should be added, also disliked the trobone solo that Garrett List played (Exercise 17), hich Cage thought too overtly expressive.   9. Wolff to John Cage, letter 17 Deceber 1975, Cage Collection. Collection.   10. Quoted in Daon Krukos Krukoski, ki, “Chri “Christian stian Wolff,” Bomb 59 (Spring 1997), available online as http://bobsite.co/issues/59/articles/2060 (accessed 19 Deceber 2011). See also the detailed description Wolff gives of Wobbly Music  in   in an article prepared for Sonus   (1980), reprinted in Christian Wolff, Cues: Writings and Conversations  (Köln,   (Köln, Gerany:  MusikTexte,  MusikT exte, 1998), 138–46.   11. Frederic Rzeski to Fred Berthold, Berthold, Jr Jr.,., letter 9 April 1978, Wolff Papers. 105

 

christian wolff 

106

     

| Notes to Chapters 5, 6, and 7

12. Wolff to John Cage Cage,, letter 22 Janua January ry 1980, Wolff Papers Papers.. 13. Wolff to Heinz Heinz-Klaus -Klaus Metzger, letter 7 Februa February ry 1978, printe printed d in Wolff, Cues , 352. 14. Wolff, intervie by Michael Hicks, 24 April 2007.

  15. Wolff to Michael Hicks, eail, 11 May 2006.   16. See John Cage and Geoffrey Barnard, Conversation without Feldman (Darlinghurst: Black Ra Books, 1980), 9.   17. Frederic Rzeski to Wolff, letter 24 February 1979, Wolff Papers.   18. Wolff to John Cage Cage,, letter n.d. [Octob [October er 1977], Wolff Papers Papers..   19. John Cage to Wolff, letter 3 Nove Noveber ber 1977, Wolff Papers Papers..

Chapter 6. Not to Do Something I’ve Already Done: 1982–1999   1. Christian Wolff, “Under the Inuence,” in Cues: Writings and Conversations  (Köln,   (Köln, Gerany: MusikTexte, 1998), 52.   2. Cage quoted in Rzeski, “The Algebra of Everyday Life, Life,”” preface to Wolff, Cues, 10.  Dartmouth, 3. Jon Appleto Appleton n quoted anouye,, “Quirk “Quirkyy Music Wins Prof. $50,0 $50,000 00 Aard, Aard,””  13 January 1997.in Erik Tanouye   4. Rzesk Rzeski, i, “Algebra of Everyda Everydayy Life,” 10.   5. For an overvie of this period, see Christopher Fox, “Exercisi “Exercising ng the Enseble: Soe  Thoughts on the Later Music of Christian Wolff, Wolff,”” in Stephen Chase and Philip Thoas, eds., Changing the System: The Music o Christian Chris tian Wol  Wol  (Surrey,  (Surrey, U.K.: U.K.: Ashgate, Ashgate , 2010), 125–39.   6. Wolff, intervie by Michael Hicks, 24 April 2007.   7. Ibid. In this sae source, Wolff estiates that 80 percent of each piece ends up ith segents in the order he rote the, th e, ith the other 20 percent reordered or nely ritten.   8. Wolff to Frederi Fredericc Rzesk Rzeski, i, letter 21 July 1999, Wolff Papers Papers..   9. Larry Polansky Polansky,, intervie by Christian Asplund, 20 May 2008.   10. Wolff, interv intervie ie by Hicks Hicks..   11. Frederic Rzeski to Wolff, letter 16 Septeber 1979, Wolff Papers.   12. Perforance note to Wolff, Exercise 19 (Haronic Treors), Edition Peters, 66948 (1983).   13. Ameri  American can Recor Recordd Guide revie quoted in Jack Vaitayanonta, Vaitayanonta, “Wolff “Wolff Syposiu Begins

 Today,,” Dartmouth, 8 January 1996.  Today   14. The ost thorough source on on Wolff’s orchestral usic thus thus far is Jaes Saunders, “Mutual Effects: Organization Org anization and an d Interaction in the Orchestral Orch estral Music of Christian Wolff,” Wolff,” in Chase and Thoas, Changing the System, 93–124.   15. Stuart Saunders Sith and Thoas De Lio, eds., Words and Space: Anthology Antholog y o TwenTwentieth Century Musical Experiments  (Ne  (Ne York: York: Roan and a nd Littleeld, 1989).   16. Cole Gagne, Soundpieces 2: Interviews with American Composers  (Metuchen,   (Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecro Press, 1993), and Willia Duckorth, Talking Music: Conversations with John Cage, Philip Glass, Laurie Anderson, and Fiv Fivee Generations o American Experimental Composers   (Ne York: York: Schirer Books, 1995).   17. Bunita Marcus to Michael Hicks, eail, 9 Deceber 2005; Orlando Jacinto Garcia to Michael Hicks, eail, 13 Deceber 2005.   18. In Feld Feldan’s an’s Three Voices  (1982),  (1982), for exaple, Feldan uses only the half-step related # pitches C 4/D4/E b4/E4 for the entire rst page (and to later long passages). The rst

 

to and a half inutes of Three Voices  consist  consist only of these four pitches. A year later, Feld# b an’ss Second String Quartet (1983) opens ith these sae pitches (C  /D/E an’  /E)—back in the duo’s original octave—played ostinato for the rst to and a half inutes. And in his

 For or Bunita Marcus  (1985), solo piano ork F  (1985), Feldan uses only C #, D, and E b, deployed in  various octaves, for the rst seventy-to seventy-to easures (again, about to and a half inutes).   19. “Christian Wolff: Intervie by Jason Gross (April 1988),”  .furious.co/pe .furious.co/perfect/  rfect/  christianolff.htl (accessed 21 February 2006). Perhaps a nal n al nod to Wolff’s Wolff’s violin duo cae in Feldan’s last piano ork, Palais de Mari  (1986).  (1986). There, in . 7–13, Feldan # oscillates aong the pitches D/D  /E—all in the duo’s duo’s original soprano octave. As though it ere an isolated but obligatory citation of Wolff, nothing like it occurs in the nearly tenty-ve inutes of usic that follo. follo.   20. Wolff took inspiration fro György Kurtág for hat he called these “individual declarations of friendship” in usic. Wolff Wolff to Michael Hicks, eail 11 May 2006.   21. Wolff in Jaes Saund Saunders, ers, ed., The Ashgate Research Companion to Experimental Music   (Surrey, U.K.: Ashgate, 2009), 364.   22. Wolff, interv intervie ie by Hicks Hicks..   23. Ibid.   24. Wolff in Saund Saunders, ers, Ashgate Research Companion, Companion, 363.   25. “Christian Wolff Wolff and Classics,” a docuent prepared for and sent to Hicks on 5 Deceber 2010 2 010 by Wolff Wolff’’s friend and an d colleague colleag ue Jaes Tatu, Tatu, reecting back on that t hat Wolff Wolff syposiu.   26. Christ Christian ian Wolff, “Cross “Crossings ings of Experi Experienta entall Music and Greek Tragedy, ragedy,”” in Peter Bron and Suzana Ograjensek, eds.,  Ancient Drama in Music or the Modern Mod ern Stage (Ne  York:  Y ork: Oxford, 2010), 304.   27. Wolff, 1996–97 faculty productivity report for Dartouth, copy in authors’ possession.   28. Wolff quoted in Tanouy anouye, e, “Quirk “Quirkyy Music Wins Prof. $50,00 $50,0000 Aard.”   29. Wolff in his liner notes to Christian Wol: Wol: Complete Music or Violin and Piano,  Mode Records 126 (2003).   30. Wolff to to Frederic Rzeski, letters 16 and 21 July 1999, Wolff Papers.   31. Aong the orks are a fe revisions or arrangeents of earlier orks.

Chapter 7. Among Friends, in a Private World    1. For the quotations quotations and general discussion, see Christian Wolff, “Aspects of the Later Plays of Euripides” (PhD dissertation, Harvard University, University, 1963), 158, 161–64.   2. Vivien Sche Scheitzer, itzer, “Copo “Coposers sers of a Certai Certain n Age Receiv Receivee a Makeov Makeover, er,””  New York York Times, 24 May 2008.   3. Fro his “Sketch of a Stateent,” Stateent,” ritten in April 1993, distributed privately then published in the progra booklet Christian Wol: Wol: The Composer and an d the Classicist Symposium

and Music Festival Dartmouth College, January 8–10, 1996,  Wolff Papers.   4. See Harold C. Schonberg, “Ne Music, Soe Cute, Soe Serious, Serious,”” New York Times,  12 April 1974.   5. See Liz Ellison, “Music Prof Gains Recognition ith Experiental ‘Exercises,’” Dartmouth, 31 January 2007.

 

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| Notes to Chapter 7

  6. Steven Johnson, ed., The New York Schools o Music and the Visual Arts  (Ne   (Ne York: Routledge, 2001).   7. Tasen Wolff to Micha Michael el Hicks Hicks,, eail 7 June 2006.    8. ristra Wolff to Micha Michael el olff Hicks, Hicks , eailr,””9Ostrav May 2006. 9. T “Transc “T ranscript ript of Christ Christian ian W Seinar, Seina Ostrava a Days, 2001, at http:/ http://.ocnh /.ocnh .cz/days2001_transkript_olff.ht (accessed 13 February 2011).   10. Wolff discusses this piece, along ith other recent orks, in Stephen Chase and Cleens Gresser, “Ordinary Matters: Christian Wolff on His Recent Music,” Tempo 58, no. 229 (2004): 19–27.   11. Wolff, intervie by Michael Hicks, 24 April 2007.   12. Fro the ork’ ork’ss progra note, available at http://.ocnh.cz/biographies_ol http://.ocnh.cz/biographies_olff ff .ht (accessed 20 Deceber 2011).   13. Wolff to Michael Hicks, letter 18 February 2011.   14. Wolff in Jaes Saunde Saunders, rs, ed., The Ashgate Research Companion to Experimental Music  Mus ic   (Surrey, U.K.: Ashgate, 2009), 363.   15. See the square and a discussion of it in Stephen Chase and Philip Thoas, eds., Changing the System: The Music o Christian Wol  Wol  (Surrey,  (Surrey, U.K.: Ashgate, 2010), 79–81.   16. Frederic Rzeski to Wolff, eail 31 March 2007, Wolff Papers.   17. Wolff, interv intervie ie by Hicks Hicks..   18. Ibid.   19. Wolff to Michael Hicks, letter 18 February 2011.   20. Ibid.   21. See Carl Dahlhaus, “Ne Music as Historical Category Category,,” in Schoenberg and the New  Music  (Cabridge:  (Cabridge: University of Cabridge, 1987), 1–13.   22. Wolff to Hicks, 18 February 2011.   23. Wolff, intervie by Michael Hicks, 26 March 2010.   24. See Christophe Christopherr Thoas Miller, Games: Purpose and Potential in Education (Ne  York:  Y ork: Springer Science and Business Media, 2008), 19.   25. “Iprovisation, Heterophony Heterophony,, Politics, Coposition: Panel Discussion ith Christian Wolff, Larry Polansky, Kui Dong, Christian Asplund, and Michael Hicks,” Perspectives o New Music  45  45 (Suer 2007): 138.   26. Willie Winant, intervie by Christian Asplund, 20 May 2008.

107

  27. “Iprov “Iprovisatio isation, n, Hetero Heterophony, phony, Politic Politics, s, Copos Coposition,” ition,” 138.   28. Fro a lecture-discussion by Wolff at the University of Northern Colorado (Greeley), 25 March 2010 (notes taken by Michael Hicks at the event).   29. Wolff in Saund Saunders, ers, Ashgate Research Companion Companion, 361.   30. Larry Polansky Polansky,, intervie by Christian Asplund, 20 May 2008.   31. Wolff, “Aspec Aspects ts of the Later Plays of Euripide Euripides,” s,” 164.

 

for further rea din ding g

 A reader re ader ost often encounters references to Christian Wolff Wolff in orks about  John Cage. The catalog of such s uch orks is relatively vast, too t oo uch so s o to recapitulate here. We’ve noted belo a fe ites either ore particular to Wolff or ore general about his colleagues and their techniques. Cues  (see  (see in the By Wolff Wolff section) anthologizes all of the best published aterial by Wolff through 1998. Changing the System (see System (see in the About Wolff section) contains iportant articles by nine scholars as ell as the ost coplete (and annotated) Wolff orklist through the early 2000s. By Wol  Cues: Writings and Conversations. 1998. Köln, Gerany: MusikTexte. “Music—Experient—Education.”” 2005. Sonus  26, “Music—Experient—Education.  26, no. 1 (Fall): 18–36. “Experiental Music around 1950 and Soe Consequences and Causes (Social-Political and Musical).” 2009. American Music  27  27 (Winter): 424–40. “Crossings of Experiental Ex periental Music and an d Greek Tragedy Tragedy.” .” 2010. In Peter Bron and Suzana Ograjensek, eds., Ancient Drama Drama in Music or the Modern Stage. Ne York: Oxford.

 Interviews with Wol  Duckorth, Willia. 1995. Talking Music: Conversations with John Cage, Philip Glass, Laurie  Anderson, and Five Five Generations Generations o American Experimental Experimental Composers. Composers. Ne York: Schirer Books.  A Chance Encounter with Christian Wol: Friday, Friday, January 11, 2002, 4:33 PM at the Greenwich  House Music Schoo Schooll (New (New York, NY). 2002. Intervie ith i th Frank J. Oteri, 11 January, January,   .neusicbox.org/35/intervie_olff.pdf (accessed 20 Deceber 2011). “Christian Wolff Wolff Seinar (an excerpt). ex cerpt).”” 2003. Fro Ostrava Days 2003 Report  at   at   .ocnh.cz/days2003_lectures_olff.ht (accessed 20 Deceber 2011). 109

 

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| For Further Reading 

 About Wol  Wol  Chase, Stephen, and Philip Thoas, eds. 2010. Changing the System: The Music o Christian Wol. Surrey, U.K.: Ashgate.

On the t he New York York School  Schoo l   Johnson, Steven, ed. 2001. 2001 . The New York Schools o Music and the Visual Arts.  Ne York: Routledge. Gresser,, Cleens. 2004. “(Re-)Dening the Relationships beteen Coposer, Perforer Gresser Perforer and Listener: Earle Bron, John Cage, Morton Feldan and Christian Wolff.” PhD dissertation, University of Southapton. Bron, Carolyn. 2007. Chance and Circumstance: Twenty Years with Cage and Cunningham.  Ne York: Knopf.

On Indeterminacy and Experimental Music  Behran, David. 1965. “What Indeterinate Notation Deterines.” Perspectives o New  Music  3,  3, no. 2 (Spring–Suer): 58–73. Salley, Roger. 1969–70. “Soe Aspects of the Changing Relationship beteen Coposer and Perforer in Conteporary Music.” Proceedings o the Royal Music Association 96:73–84. Holzaepfel, John. 1994. “David Tudor and the Perforance of Aerican Experiental  Music 1950–1959.” PhD dissertation, City University of of Ne York. York. “Iprovisation, Heterophony, Heterophony, Politics, Coposition: Panel Discussion ith Christian  Wolff,  W olff, Larry Polansky, Polansky, Kui Dong, Christian Asplund, and Michael Hicks.” Hick s.” 2007. Per spectives o New Music  45  45 (Suer): 133–49. Ki, Rebecca Y. 2008. “In No Uncertain Musical Ters: The Cultural Politics of John Cage’s Indeterinacy.” PhD dissertation, Colubia Cardew (1936–1981): A LieUniversity. Unfnished.  Essex, U.K.: Copula.  Tilbury  Tilbury, , John. 2008. Cornelius Saunders, Jaes, ed. 2009. The Ashgate Research Companion to Experimental Music.  Surrey, U.K.: Ashgate.

 

recordings

 While a ne Wolff Wolff discography appears in Changing the System—and System—and e defer to it as a aster list—it is in soe ays obsolete. That is not just because Wolff discs have continued to appear but because discographies as such ean less and less in an era of blogs, le sharing, bootleg recordings, YouT YouTube, ube, and other eans of transission that, as e rite this, can only be iagined.   Throughout the book e refer to any of Wolff olff’’s recordings recordings.. In the 1960s there ere to LPs, one on a ne independent label (Mainstrea, (Mainstr ea, 1963) and the other on Colubia’s budget label (Odyssey, 1968). The latter of these included or 1, 2 or 3 People People played the piece F piece  For  played by David Tudor. What is best about that recording is that it ould be the rst of several for a piece that thrives ainly on its reiagining. No one recording could convey the piece’s essence; each ne recording utterly redenes the ork’s sound and shape. In the 1970s four ne  Wolff  W olff recordings appeared, to of the on fairly stable European labels (W (Wergo, ergo, or 1, 2 or 3). 3). Odeon). In the 1980s, four ore appeared (including another of F of  For   It as not until the 1990s that the ease of producing and anufactu anufacturing ring copact discs (hich contain ore clock tie and dynaic range than LPs) enabled any ore Wolff recordings to eerge. The Hat Hut label alone gave

us six Wolff CDs in that decade, including an archival disc of Tudor and Cage playing to versions vers ions of Wolff Wolff’’s Duo for Pianists 1 in 1960. In the 2000s the t he Mode and Matchless labels gave us seven CDs beteen the. Add these to an array of independent pressings on saller labels, and e no have ultiple recordings or 1, 2 and 3, Edges, Edges, and of fundaental Wolff orks, including F including For  and the exercises.   A fe archival CDs of various Wolff perforances (including orchestral orks) circulate in the usic-collecting underground. On the Art of the States ebsite (http://artofthestates.org/cgi-bin/piece.pl?pid=214) one ay hear Wolff’ Wolff’ss Trio Trio III (1996). The Dartouth ebsite http://digital http://digitalusics.dart usics.dartouth.edu/~larr outh.edu/~larry/trio/  y/trio/  trio.index.htl features recordings of trio iprovisations (1999–2009) by Wolff,

 

christian wolff 

112

| Recordings 

Kui Dong, Dong , and Larry Larr y Polansky Polan sky.. YouT YouTube ube harbors h arbors dozens of recordings reco rdings of Wolff Wolff pieces (soe involving i nvolving Wolff Wolff hiself as perforer). pe rforer). At least one l (Who ( Who Gets to Call It Art?, Art?, a 2006 docuentary about Henry Geldzahler) Geldzahl er) includes Wolff Wolff’’s 1950 Serenade in its i ts soundtrack—a soundtrack —a fact that even ev en Wolff Wolff didn’t kno until e told hi. hi .   These latter entries are little ore than suggestive of hat one encounters in the postcorporate recording orld. Wolff hiself feels little territoriality about realizations of his ork, although soe he prefers to others. others . The player-friendly nature of any of his scores suggests an access-friendly proulgation proulgation of their sound.

111

 

index 

“Abi Yoyo,” 60 “Acres of Clas,” 60, 75  Aeschylus, 84

Boston, 19 Boulder, Colorado, 20 Boulez, Pierre, 10, 14, 15–16, 20

“Ain’t No More Cane in Dis Brazis,” 61 “All the Pretty Little Horses,” 61  Aerican Acadey of Arts and Sciences, 88  American Record Guide, 74  AMM, 40–41, 96  Anthology o Arican Music , 47  Apostel, Hans, 9  Appleton, Jon, 42, 47, 70

Boery Enseble, 77 “Bread and Roses,” 60, 62 British Invasion, 39 Bron, Carolyn Rice, 17, 28 Bron, Earle, 84, 87; indeterinacy of, 23, 27, 53; as Ne York School eber, 15, 17, 20, 54–56, 69; record producer, 33; Wolff on, 31 Bron University, 69 Bruce, Neely, 61, 62 Busch, Adolph, 7

Babbitt, Milton, 3, 22, 29 Ba-Benzélé, 47–48, 54 Bach, Johann Sebastian, Se bastian, 7, 63, 79, 89 Bartók, Béla, 9, 15, 19, 94 Bath, UK, 41 Baynes, Carolyn, 17 BBC, 49 Beatles, 39

Cage, John, 8; and an d Cornelius Carde C arde,, 49, 67; and Merce Cunningha, 28, 47–48, 61; death of, 80–81; disputes  ith Wolff, Wolff, 61; and Morton Feldan, 54–56; gauts, 12; inuence on  Wolff,  W olff, 8–12, 17, 70, 80; as perforer, perforer,

Bechet, Sidney, 8 Beethoven, Ludig van, 64, 83 Behrens, Jack, 47 Behran, David, 22, 38, 40, 47, 59, 94 Belgrade Television, 51 Beowul , 63 Berg, Alban, 8, 56 Berio, Luciano, 33, 51, 63 Bernstein, Leonard, 19 “Big Rock Candy Mountain, Mountain,”” 60 Bollingen Foundation, 6 Bosch, Hieronyous, 71

21, 25, 27, 39, 59; prepared piano, pian o, 14; prootion of Wolff, 80; publications and recordings of, 32–33, 40, 68, 88; square-root-for, 13–14; on Wolff, 38–39, 42–43; Wolff’s inuence on, 14–15, 17, 27; and Wolff’s parents, 17–18 California Institute of the Arts, 88 Cabridge, Massachusetts, 38 Capbell, Joseph, 15 Caus, Albert, 6 Carde, Cornelius, 53, 64, 68, 81, 96;

 

 Index 114

copositions of, 40–41, 45–46, 67; politics of, 48–50, 58–59, 69; on Wolff, 29, 42, 48 Carnegie Hall, 88 Carter, Elliott, 3, 19, 58 Cedar Tavern, 18 Center for Hellenic Studies, 43, 46 Cherry Lane Theater, 20 China, Peoples Republic of, 51 China: The Revolution Continued , 52 “Cindy,” 61 Cogan, Robert, 68 Collage, 37 Cologne, Gerany, 29 Colubia Records, 40 Colubia University, 9 counis, 51 Confucius, 45 Copland, Aaron, 68 Coell, Henry, 8, 9, 15, 23, 33 CRI, 69 Cultural Revolution, 52 Cunningha, Merce, 15, 17, 28–29, 47, 61 Dahlhaus, Carl, 95 Dallapiccola, Luigi, 22 Darstadt, 22, 25, 27, 50, 51, 59 Dartouth, 2, 38, 47, 50, 68, 70, 71; character of, 43; Wolff professor at, 42–45, 52–58, 64, 83–84 Deocrats, 51 Dixieland, 8, 9, 24 Donaueschingen Festival, 81, 83 Dong, Kui, 96, 97

Faber de Faur, Curt von, 6 Feldan, Morton, 20, 25, 50–51; copositions of, 20, 23, 53, 81; death of, 80–81; as Ne York School eber, 15, 17, 33, 43, 54–56, 69; on Wolff, 10, 16, 18, 38–39, 56; Wolff’s inuence on, 80–81 Festival of Harvard Coposers, 21 Finer, Carole, 50 Flaubert, Gustave, 7 Florence, Italy, 5, 22 Fluxus, 41–42  Folk  F olk Song U.S.A., 60 Fort Sa Houston, 27 Foke, Edith, 60 Frescobaldi, Girolao, 63, 79 Friedberg, Carl, 9 Friends Seinary, 6, 7, 8, 15, 96 Gaburo, Kenneth, 63 Garcia, Orlando Jacinto, 80 Gare, Lou, 40 George, Stefan, 6 Gide, André, 6 Git rom the Sea, A, 21 Gilgamesh, 63 Giovannittie, Arturo, 62 Glass, Philip, 52, 59, 93 Glazer, Joe, 60 Goldan, Ea, 81 Goldstein, Malcol, 64 Göring, Herann, 5 Grass, Günter, 37 Great Expectations , 22 Greenich Village, 6

113

Don Quixote, 22 dynaics, 78–79 Eco, Uberto, 37 Eisler, Hanns, 91 Electrola, 69 EMI, 69, 85  Emotion and Meaning in Music , 64 Eno, Brian, 41 Erdan, Jean, 15 Escot, Pozzi, 68 Euripides, 37, 43, 69, 83–84, 87, 95, 97

Grey Goose, The, 61 Grifths, Paul, 69 Gulliver’s Gulliver ’s Travels  Travels , 22 “Hallelujah, I’ a Bu,” 60, 61, 83 Ha, Charles, 61 Harle, 51 Harrison, Lou, 15 Harvard, 6, 38, 51, 63; Wolff professor at, 2, 42–43, 69; Wolff schooled at, 18, 21–22  Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, 43

 

Harvey, Larence, 43 HatArt, 85 “Hay Una Mujer Desaparecida,” 60 Hayood, Bill, 62

Ligeti, György, 50 Lindbergh, Anne Morro, 21 List, Garrett, 59  Listener , 49

Henahan, Donal, 54 “Hey Ho, Nobody Hoe,” 60, 76 Hindeith, Paul, 19 Hinrichsen, Walter, 32  Hit Parade Parade, 8 hocket, 62–63, 78 Hoer, 63 Hopkins Center for the Arts, 43 Hotel Colonial, 6 Huizinga, Johan, 95, 97

Loax, John and Alan, 60 “loops on a grid” technique, 65–66 Lucier, Alvin, 39, 89, 90 Ludigsburg, Gerany, 37 Luxeburg, Rosa, 81

 I Ching , 17  Incompleat Folksinger Folksinger,, The, 60, 62 indeterinacy, 23  Internationale, The, 67 Iraq War, 91 Ives, Charles, 33, 40, 59, 93, 94 IWW (International Workers of the  World),  W orld), 62  Jaspers, Karl, 37  Joachi, Joseph, 7 “John Golden and an d the Larence Strike, Strike,”” 60, 62  Johns, Jasper, Jasper, 38  Johnson, Jaes P., P., 8 “Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho,” 61  Juilliard String Quartet, 8  Jung, Carl, 6 Kafka, Franz, 5 Kahn, Si, 81

 Mao Zedong, 48–49, 58  Marclay,, Christian, 85  Marclay  Marcus, Bunita, 80 “Mary, Don’t You Weep,” 61  Maxeld, Richard, 21–22  McCarthy hearings, 51  McClure, John, 40  Meet the Coposer, Coposer, 80  Merck, Elizabeth, 5  MEV (Musica Electronica Viva), Viva), 40  Meyer,, Leonard, 64  Meyer  Mikhashoff, Yvar Yvar,, 73, 74  Milhaud, Darius, 8 inialis, 52–53  Moby-Dick, 22  Mode Records, 85  Modern Music , 69 “Moorsoldaten (Peat-Bog Soldier), Soldier),”” 60  Mua, Gordon, 47  Musical Times  Times , 45  MusikTexte,  MusikT exte, 84  Myrdal, Jan, 52 Nash, Hope (Christian Wolff’s otherin-la), 71 Nash, Hope (“Holly”), 39, 44, 49, 61, 71,

Keil, Charles, 64 Keller, Hans, 49 Kessle, Gun, 52 Kinks, The, 39 Kosugi, Takahisa, 84, 85 Kotik, Petr, 89, 91 Krenek, Ernst, 56 Leicester, UK, 41 Lein, David, 7, 96 Lieboitz, René, 10

89; arriage to Wolff, 38; as other, 42, 68 Nash, Ray, 38, 44, 71 Near, Holly, 60 neues: coordination, 32–37, 72; ratio, 23–27, 29, 32 Ne Hapshire Philharonic, 82 Ne Hapshire Syphony Orchestra, 82  New Music Quarterly, 8 Ne York City, 6

 

 Index 116

Ne York Public Library, 10 Ne York School of Coposers, 18, 37, 54, 85, 97; coposers, 4, 17, 26, 33, 89; concerts, 55; Coell on, 15; Feldan

Riley, Terry, 52 “Rock About,” 60 Rodgers, Richard, 89 Rolling Stones, The, 39

on, 55–56; reputation of, 80, 87–88;  Tudor and, 20  Tudor  New York Times , 20, 21, 54, 87 Ne York University, 47 Nice, France, 5

Roe, Keith, 40 Royalton, Veront, 38, 47, 89 Russell, Peeee, 8 Russell, Willia, 8 Rzeski Frederic, 3, 41, 59, 71, 84; coc opositions of, 51, 57–58, 65, 67, 73, 92–93; at Harvard, 22–23; as perforer, 36, 40, 47, 67, 73; politics, 50; on Wolff’s usic, 29, 62, 68, 70–71, 93

“O Freedo,” 61 Oliveros, Pauline, 57 Ono, Yoko, 41 Oppens, Ursula, 73 Ostrava Days Festival, 89 Oxford University, 69 Paine Hall (Harvard), 22 Palero, Italy, 37 Pantheon, 6, 17, 37 Paris, France, 6 Parks, Rosa, 81 Parsons, Michael, 41 Patch Barracks, 31 PEN, 37 Peters, C. F., 32–33, 34, 85 “Picket Line Song, Song,”” 77 Piston,, Walter, Piston Walter, 19 Plato, 58, 59 Plyouth, Ne Hapshire, 75 Polansky, Polan sky, Larry, Larry, 71, 96, 97 “Po’ Lazarus,” 60 Portugal, 6 Prague, 56 “Preacher and an d the Slave, The,” The,” 60, 62 Prévost, Eddie, 40, 96

Satie, Erik, 10, 39, 63 Schoenberg, Arnold, 8, 9, 10, 15, 19, 56, 93 Schulkosky, Robyn, 82 Schuann, Clara, 7, 9 Schuann, Robert, 7 Schertsik, Kurt, 59 Scratch Orchestra, 45–46, 47, 48–49, 50 Second Viennese School, 10, 56 Seeger, Charles, 60, 62 Seeger, Mike, 62 Seeger, Peggy, 81 Seeger, Pete, 60, 62 Seeger, Ruth Craford, 60, 62, 81 S.E.M. Enseble, 89, 91 Serkin, Rudolph, 7 Serpa Pinto, 6 “Set Don, Servant,” 61 Sheaff, Laurence, 40 Shostakovich, Ditri, 94 Skepton, Hoard, 41 Sith College, 69

115

Princeton University, 69 quilting, 63–64, 67, 92 Radcliffe College, 38 Rando House, 37 Reich, Steve, 52 Reichstag, burning of, 5  Reihe, Die, 22, 31 Republicans, 51 Reynolds, Malvina, 81

Songs o Work and Protest , 60, 62 Sonic Youth, 85–86 Sonus: A Journal o Investigations into Global Musical Possibilities , 68 Sophocles, 69, 84 Soviet Union, 51 Spain, 6 Spanier, Spani er, Mugsy, Mugsy, 8 Stalin, Josef, 51 Stapley, Burdette, 31 Steuerann, Eduard, 7

 

Stockhausen, Karlheinz, 22, 33, 43; copositions of, 27, 31, 42, 89, 93 Stravinsky, Igor, 19, 40, 63, 94 Stuyvesant Casino, 8, 9

 Whitney Museu, 55  Who, The, 39  Wilhel, Richard, 17  Winant, Willia, 85, 97

Sultan, Grete, 9 “Sun is Burning, The,” 60 SUNY Buffalo, 56

 Winchester, UK, 41  Winchester, Wire, 88  WNYC, 8  Wolff,  W olff, Christian George: ary, ary, 27, 31; aards, 84; and John Cage ( see  see Cage,  John); children of, 42–44, 68, 89; copositional process, 63–67, 71–73, 78–79, 93–95; at Darstadt, 42–43, 50, 59; education, 6–8, 19, 21–23, 37; and Morton Feldan ( see  see Feldan,  Morton); and folksong, 60–61, 64–65, 76–78; and elody, 53–53, 59, 72–79, 92; and inialis, 52–53; parents of,

 Tallis, Thoas, 92  Tallis,  Tangleood,  T angleood, 9, 10 “There Once Was a Union Maid,” 60, 61  Thopson, Randall, 19, 22  Thoson, Vir Virgil, gil, 10  Tilbury,, John, 41, 45, 53, 58, 96  Tilbury  Tie Records, 33  Tolstoy  T olstoy,, Leo, 7 Tom Jones , 22

Tom Sawyer , 7  Ton Hall, 55  Ton Treasure Island , 7 TriQuarterly, 70  Tudor  T udor,, David, 38, 43, 50, 59, 84; death of, 81–82; and Ne York School, 55; perforances of Wolff’s usic, 20–22, 25, 27–28, 40, 47 UNESCO, 47–48 “Union Maid,” 61 United States, Wolffs’ arrival in, 6 University of Illinois, 61 University of Munich, 32 Urban Blues , 64  Valèry,, Paul, 6  Valèry  Varése,  V arése, Edgar, Edgar, 8, 9, 85–86 Vexations , 39

5–7, 17–18, 21, 37; and politics, 48–52, 58–60, 62, 66, 69, 76–78; as professor, 38, 41–43, 57–58, 64, 68–69, 83–84; and publishers, 32–33; recordings, 33, 40, 47, 74, 85–86, 88, 111–12; and rock usic, 39, 85–86; edding, 38  Wolff,  W olff, Christian George (copositions):  Accompaniments , 51–52, 58; Black Organ Preludes , 82; Bowery Preludes , 77–78; Braverman Brav erman Music , 73; Bread and Roses , 60, 67–68, 73, 79; Burdocks , 44, 46–49, 50–52, 63, 85; Cello Variations on “Hallelujah, I’m a Bum,”  60;  60; Death o Mother  Jones , 60; Digger Song , 72; Duet II, 32; Duo for Pianists I, 25–26; Duo for Pianists II, 26–29, 31; Duo for Violinist and Pianist, 32; Edges , 41, 80, 85; Electric Spring , 39; Emma, 81; Exercises, 54, 61, 70, 73–74, 76, 79–80; F  For or 1, 2 or 3

 Vietna War, 43, 51, 58  Vox  V ox Records, 69, 85

War and Peace, 22  Washington  W ashington Square, 51  Webern,  W ebern, Anton, 8, 10, 13, 40; style of, 12, 16, 23, 25, 73; syphony of, 79, 92;  Wolff  W olff likened to, 39, 56; Wolff Wolff on, 22  Wergo,  W ergo, 69, 85  Wesleyan  W esleyan University, University, 42, 62, 68  Westdeutscher  W estdeutscher Rundfunk, 50

People, 34–37, 39–40, 87–88; F  For or 5 or 10 Players , 33–34, 36; F  For or Cornelius , 81; F  For or  Morty, 81; F  For or Pianist , 27–28, 32; F  For or Piano I , 20, 22, 53; F  For or Piano II , 20–21,  For or Prepared Piano, 14–15, 17, 22, 53; F 20–21; F  For or Si , 81; Hay Una Mujer Desa parecida, 67–68, 73; In Between Pieces , 34; John David , 81–83, 90; Liyashiswa, 80; Long Piano, 92–93, 95; Madrigals , 23; Malvina, 81; Merce, 81; Microexer  Microexer-cises , 93–94; Music or Magnetic Tape I ,

 

 Index 118

28–30; Music or Merce Cunningham, 28; Music or Six or Seven Players , 28–29; Nine, 16, 56, 89; Or 4 People, 76; Orchestra: Orchestr a: Pieces , 91–92; Ordinary Mat-

ter , 90–91; Peace Marches, Marc hes, 76–77, 80, 91; Pebbles , 84–85; Peggy, 81; Preludes (piano), 74–75; Prose Collection, 41–42, 80, 84; Pulse, 84; Rhapsody, 92; Rosas , 81; Ruth, 81; Septet, 34; Serenade, 13; Snowdrop, 53–54; Sonata for Three Pianos, 24; Spring , 82; String Trio, 13; Suite for Prepared Piano, Pian o, 28; Suite II, 32; Summer , 32; Tilbury 1, 53–54; Tilbury 2 & 3, 53–54; Trio II, 32; Wobbly  Music , 61–63  Wolff,  W olff, Christian George (ritings and lectures), 31, 43, 46, 68, 70, 109; on classics, 83–84; Cues , 84, 109; dissertation, 37, 87; “Plato and the Ne  Music,”” 58–59, 68  Music,

 Wolff, Christian Mayhe (“He”), 42, 44  Wolff,  Wolff,  W olff, Helen, 5, 6, 7, 8, 17–18, 21, 37  Wolff,  W olff, Kurt, 5–8, 17–18, 21, 37  Wolff,  W olff, Maria, 5  W  Wolff, olff, 68 of Chris Wolff,  W olff, Nicholas Nikolaus (“Tico”), (half brother tian), 5  Wolff,  W olff, Tasen, 43, 44, 89  Wolff,  W olff, Tristra, 68, 89  Wolpe,  W olpe, Stefan, 22  World  W orld War War II, 6, 51  Xenakis, Iannis, 50, 76  Yenan Foru, 48, 49  Yenan  Young,  Y oung, La Monte, 41 Zappa, Frank, 86 Zen, 1

117

 

michael hicks  is a professor of usic at Brigha Young

University and the author of Sixties Rock: Garage, Psychedelic, and Other Satisactions  and  and other orks. christian asplund is

an associate professor of usic and coposer-in-residence at Brigha Young University.

 

 a m e r i c a n

Composers 

Lou Harrison  Leta E. Miller Miller and Fredric Fredric Lieberman  John Cage David Nicholls  Dudley Buck  N. Lee Orr   Willia Grant Still  Willia Still Catherine Parsons Smith Rudolf Fril William Everett  Elliott Carter  James Wierzbicki  Carla Bley  Amy C. Beal  Christian Wolff  Michael Hicks and Christian Asplund 

 

The University of Illinois Press is a founding member of the Association of American University Presses.

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