(Béla Bartók, in route to America, 1940)
The tragedy of World War II effectively bottlenecked Europe’s composers into the trajectory of American immigration. Within the insulated environment of American universities and the rising tide of college students resulting from the passage of the GI Bill, serialists found it convenient to proselytize the twelve-tone method to a younger generation of composers. Milton Babbit, who literally met Schoenberg in New York City as soon as he stepped off the boat, rose to prominence as the chief American adherent (apostle?) to Schoenberg’s method.
I am struck, firstly, by the pronounced self-awareness, intentionalism, and egoism of Schoenberg’s attitude in 1921 upon his creation of the twelve-tone method. He wrote, “Today I have discovered something which will ensure the supremacy of German music for the next hundred years.” In Cowell, we observed a true “discovery” based on acoustical properties, physics, and the harmonic series; he did not, however, frame his experimentalism in an urgent evangelical fervor. Similarly, Harry Partch and Ben Johnston arrived at scientifically-supported conclusions that favored a broader system of tuning than equal temperament, but they did not emerge as endless self-promoters. That Schoenberg held this attitude as early as 1921 indicates that his musical philosophy was reactionary, was in fact directly opposed to post-Romantic chromaticism and diatonic tonalities.
Some of us have dabbled in experimentalism for the sake of exploring the unknown with our focus trained on the quest or process of discovery over indoctrination. In contrast, Schoenberg was completely intentional in his blitzkrieg, proudly waving the emblematic definition of avant-garde as his banner: a soldier on the front lines who goes ahead of the pack blazing new paths, clearing the way for the followers.
Milton Babbit, a significant “follower” in the story of serialism, emerges as a brilliant mind, able to teach both mathematics and composition at Princeton (this is kind of a big deal). Similar to Messiaen and Elliot Carter, Babbit broadened his application of serialist techniques to embrace rhythm and time. (The Europeans seemed to limit themselves mostly to a pitch-based approach to the twelve-tone method.) In Babbit, we also see another self-promoter, in a way. His ultra-rationalist philosophy argues that an intellectual composer should have the advanced terminology in his or her music that a top scientist or mathematician might also be expected to demonstrate in his or her field of expertise. The general public doesn’t need to understand rocket science; why shouldn’t this apply to music as well?
However, in Babbit’s music there lies a coldness, a sterility. This unfeeling, calculating approach is also emphatically intentional. Babbit actually believed that music plays no role in moving the emotions, a notion in opposition to the Ancient Greek philosophy that music must move the Ethos. Babbit emerged as the composer who openly preferred electronic music for its perfect accuracy and abilities of computation; human machines are much flawed, predisposed to alleged emotional weaknesses. Human performances, always, are characterized by mistakes.
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