Notation in the Works of Luciano Berio by William Andrew Burnson

The rendering of any piece of music in notation by a composer, like a fingerprint, allows us to infer many things about the composer through the manner of its distinctions. A composition can not exist without a notation to communicate the composition. Arguably, all composition is notation. We often isolate the content of the music from the notation containing it, yet as a sculpture presents its form both through what it is and what it is not, not simply an object occupying space, but a form contrasting the emptiness around it, notation defines a composition through the subtraction of an otherwise limitless musical space, giving with each symbol a more finite existence to the music. All musical compositions are obviously subsets of the language they employ. For example, no piece uses every feature of all forms of musical language expression (yet!). Taken in the other direction, all musical compositions are also supersets of any notation in that the manner in which the notation is used is specific to the piece. The combinations, the patterns, the congruity of composition is just as much an expression of musical unity as it is notational unity. That seemingly tautological argument is not necessarily so. The purpose of any study in notation should not be to find the most superficially interesting, visually-striking elements but to identify the parameters that allow the notation to contain music. Most of these we take for granted. The idea of a sixteenth note actually has no single notational equivalent. We could argue for the sake of practicality that the graphical symbol x is a sixteenth note, much the way we could argue that T is a letter of the alphabet. Yet, only in the context of pitch, dynamics,

articulation, tempo, staff lines, instruments, systems, pages, and all the surrounding musical material does a sixteenth note express anything at all. If we then place another sixteenth note next to the first x x and observe the two otherwise identical graphical objects, we see that they each take on different roles in the composition: perhaps an antecedant-consequent relationship, or the establishment of a pulse, or perhaps the creation of an iamb or a trochee. Similarly, as a painter who places a single red dot on an otherwise empty canvas instantly changes the relationship of an otherwise abstract dot to an otherwise abstract canvas, a second dot, instantly defines a relationship between the dot and dot, and the two dots to the canvas. Another useful analogy to bring to the relationship between notation and composition: consider again the letter T. We think we see just two features: a long stroke up forming a stem, and a horizontal plank crossing the top of the stem. Now consider the significance of the following graphic: T (and imagine having drawn it with black not white ink). Without an extra thought, we again see the same letter, albeit through the guise of an inverted scheme of foreground and background colors. Could it be that our understanding of the construction of this shape (composition) is inextricably tied to the space (notation) containing the letter's form (music)? The subject of Luciano Berio and his use of notation, a vastly underexplored aspect of his music, provides tantalizing insights into the construction and composition of his works. Several of these works as published today remain in the hand of the composer, allowing us to catch glimpse of the skillful negotiation between the composer's musical intentions and their corresponding execution on the page. Berio's innovations in notation run the full gamut of musical expression, from tinkering with and embellishing features of the Western music lexicon to manipulating performance structure and the very foundation of the music. Through the lens of

such precisely notated music, as document of the ephemeral moments in between the pen and the paper, the commitment of the grand scheme to individual notes and other symbols, a careful examination of the composer's choices in notation may bring telling clues regarding the processes of composition. Many composers will say that notation is secondary to their composition. Berio said in interview: Usually, I'm not concerned with notation itself. When I'm concerned, that means there's a problem. The issue of notation comes out, at least in my own musical perspective, when there is a dilemma, when there is a problem to be solved. And that pushes me to find solutions that maybe I was never pushed to find before.1 Clearly, Berio uses notation regardless of whether or not he is concerned with it. Let us instead test this hypothesis: if composition is simply the execution of notation, then can we also say that Berio's innovative compositional techniques are reflected by equally innovative notation? A simpler question might prove more profound: what things comprise musical notation? A musical score, cover to cover may contain a title page, a list of instruments, remarks by the composer, a stage setup, a set of performance directions, and other informationall of which are not usually considered to be examples of musical notation. Consider a literary example: the preface. Many manuscripts include one for the purposes of introducing a subject to a reader, sometimes to introduce terms, prerequisites, corrections, or even justifications for the text that follows. In theory, the manuscript stands on its own without an introduction. Yet, in light of the preface, is it the same work? In many pieces of modern music, some prefatory remarks are essential to the proper performance and comprehension of the work. Especially when in the music of Berio, commentary is itself a vehicle for musical expression, we should not accept a
1 Benedict Weisser, Notational Practice in Contemporary Music: A Critique of Three Compositional Models (Luciano Berio, John Cage, and Brian Ferneyhough). Ph.D., Composition, City University of New York, 1998. Appendix A, p. 1.

narrow definition of notation. As a preliminary example, Recital I (for Cathy) contains at the score's beginning three large pages of detailed staging directions by Berio indicating humorous stunts: the soprano initially walks on stage and, having no accompanist, flies into a rage going backstage to nag; or: the soprano is instructed to sing standing in the nook of the piano (though without a piano player actually present) as in traditional performance practice, thereby interrupting her otherwise operatic role, hence juxtposing two essentially incompatible modes of concert. These directions are clearly notational. Another thought experiment: could something outside the bound music score, such as a program note written by the composer, or a composer interview regarding a particular piece also notate the music? (Perhaps annotate would be a telling substitution here.) Many composers reluctantly discuss their music, neither for lack of certainty or shyness, but to avoid cheapening it. If notation is likened to the subtraction of musical possibilities, then we might also say that discussing one's music is a subtractive (and thus notational or annotational) process, by which a piece of music is made more definite and therefore more narrow, something that for some composers might be akin to revising the work simply through its discussion or annotation. Continuing our gedanken with an altogether different composer, Terry Riley, we might ask if the notational simplicity of In C yields a music that is more all-encompassing (and perhaps that it is why some minimalists might prefer the term totalist) than, say, a sonata of the same length since In C subtracts much less from the realm of all musical possibilities. Stravinsky in his Poetics of Music2 lectures at Harvard, spoke of the importance of limits in music. So let us put forth the following relationship: notation, as the ultimate arbiter of limits, can encompass

2 Igor Stravinsky. The Poetics of Music. Revised edition. Boston: Harvard University Press, 1993. Chapter Four: The Composition of Music, p. 45.

anything that defines a piece of music more narrowly. With a working definition of notation in reach, we proceed to attempt the previous inquiry regarding the dual nature of compositional and notational innovation. Considering the above example, In C, a single page of music representing up to an hour of performed music is in indeed a feat of both composition and notation. In fact, that composition requires the notation it was given. Riley's magnum opus is an equal innovation in both composition and notation. Or, consider serial music. If we insist on a narrow view of notation, then it would appear that the process of the music is independent of the graphical notes that express it. Yet such an argument fails to explain the sets, rows, hexachordal combinatoriality, etc., all of which owe most of their popularity to the easy of which they are notated. (Think: [0 1 4] is itself merely a notation, and say, F-sharp, G, and A-sharp is one possibility for notating this set in music.) The mapping of any external concept into music, is inescapably an issue of notation, even when no new graphical symbols must be invented to represent the new mapping. The notation of serial music could therefore be considered just as innovative as the underlying composition (since composition is, under this hypothesis, equivalent to notation). In the following investigation of Berio's use of notation, we will consider aspects that limit or define the music in some way that are beyond the norm. There are a number of enterprising notations serving hugely different musical functions ranging from performance considerations to compositional considerationsbasic extensions to the nominal language, rendering a particular passage in a more graphically convenient way; extensions to instrumental technique; rhythmic translations for multilingual texts; optional passages, alternative passages; randomness, aleatory; cueing; stage directions, commentary; metastructures such as mirror compositions. Due to the large number of full-page illustrations, see the Appendix for the

musical examples. Beginning with Sequenza VI for Cello Solo, we see examples of extensions to the nominal language of notation. In several passages, Berio indicates a quadruple stop tremelo in which accidentals change quasi-contrapuntally across the gesture's duration. They are indicated by their relative placement (an embedded use of proportional notation, for one) and changing accidental marks. Visually, such passages look like clouds of accidentals (though they are of course interpreted linearly): When we examine the purpose of the notation, we see that it has some interesting properties. For

example, the pitches change by small amounts, always within a half-step of the original note. This is important for performance in that the cellist, given a quadruple stop with no open strings will have all four fingers down on the neck and will only be able to adjust them by a minute amount. When we consider the historical purpose of the accidental as an inflection of a pitch that belongs to, say, a mode, we see that Berio has cleverly remapped the etymological purpose of the accidental onto, instead of a mode, a hand position. In this same Sequenza (and in some of the other Sequenzas) we also see Berio writing detours which the performer is allowed to choose between, usually labeled A) and B). Traditionally, editors use ossia staves to indicate the simplification of a texture in case the performer is unable to execute a particularly difficult passage. Berio takes the idea one step further by recomposing passages (composed editorializing), allowing the performer to take the detour that is most appropriate.

All of the Sequenzas contain, in total, dozens of extended instrumental techniques for which Berio invents notation symbols to describe. The composer uses new symbols on an asneeded basis according to his sentiment, The issue of notation comes out, at least in my own musical perspective, when there is a dilemma, when there is a problem to be solved. When Berio refers to notation, he seems to be speaking more to the synthesis of graphical symbols and not to the general use of notation in all of its guises which we examine here. However, the incredible detail to which Berio usually defines these symbols often results in notational prefaces which are longer than the pages of music itself (for example, the Sequenza III for Voice contains a three and a half page preface for three pages of music!) begging the question, are definitions of notation also notation and part of the music? Another example of Berio extending notation to solve a problem would be Opus Number Zoo in which members of the woodwind quintet alternate playing and speaking. The text has been translated into English, German, and Italian. Since the number of syllables required and the stress varies, Berio writes two rhythmic lines to precisely place the syllables regardless of the language. In this piece, Berio makes use of two different types of narration notation: a rhythmically specified notation and freely spoken text. For eighth and sixteenth notes, he uses beams with headless stems; for quarter notes he uses single headless stems. Extending idioms even further, in the solo piano piece Feuerklavier from Echoing Curves, also in concerto form in Concerto II, Berio writes deliberate pedal markings for all three pedals. Interestingly, the sostenuto pedal is given the marking (random) indicating that it should be fluttered over the course of several measures. This has the effect of catching some of the dampers (and due to the speed of the notated figurations, it is not possible to tell exactly which will be held) resulting in unpredictable resonances. This notation is also an example of

controlled aleatory. A more prominent example of aleatory occurs in the Concerto Per Due Pianoforti e Orchestra. Berio indicates a set of notes, treated like a chord over time, in which the performer iterates and reiterates through the set of notes at a specified tempo. There are + O and markings to indicate very even, somewhat uneven, and very uneven respectively, or, in other words, the relative steadiness of the pulse at any point in the sequence. The notation is highly inventive, musical, and effective. Gesti (1966) for Alto Recorder is a charismatic and energetic piece comprised of three notationally distinct sections. The first two sections are written with strikingly percussion-like symbols using one staff to dictate changes in embrouchere, and the second to indicate the position of the fingers on the fingerholes. The last section is written out more or less traditionally. All of the sections use numbers 1 to 7 for dynamics. In the first section, the performer is instructed by the preface to, finger one or two measures, continuously repeated, at the correct tempo, from the Allegro (Giga) of the D minor Sonata for Blockflote and Continuo by G. P. Telemann (from 'Esercizi Musici'). Or he can finger as fast as possible something like the following pattern: or, any other

pattern assuring rich harmonics. Clearly, this is a prime example of Berio's use of commentary, but the directions also serve to notate the music. This notation, occuring in the performance directions, lends more credence to the idea that notation does not simply involve the elements on pages with the music (as traditionally referred to) and can incorporate anything that limits or more precisely defines the composition. The first section, since it incorporates this ostinato, has nothing written for the fingers on the second staff line. The second section drops the ostinato and indicates points along the

fingerholes between which the fingers slide. In the third section, Berio drops the non-standard notation all together finishing the piece with music that is based largely on pitch classes and written in traditional notation. The juxtaposition of these three different styles of notation with this piece, at the same time indicates a juxtaposition of compositional techniques (and this juxtaposition is, even without the Telemann, a form of commentary). Berio's translation in and out of proportional notation has been previously described by Weisser, especially with regard to Sequenza I (1958) and its transformations from rational to proportional and back to rational notation. Berio, however, first notated Sequenza VII for Oboe (1971) with proportional notation. In this Sequenza, Berio implements a curious temporal grid structure: 13 staves each with 13 sections, the length of the sections decreasing monotonically according to the following progression: 3'', 2.7'', 2'', 2'', 2'', 2'', 1.8'', 1.5'', 1.3'', 1.3'', 1'', 1'', 1'' equivalent to 22.6 units per staff. (When Berio renotates the score from the original proportional version, he uses tempo q = 60, thus: 3/4, 11/16, 2/4, etc. keeping the structure intact.) The sections are denoted by dashed lines clearly running down the page, with encircled durations such as 3'' given at the top and the middle of the large score. But are they just durations? When you get out the ruler, you see that 3'' corresponds not just to 3 seconds, but also to 3 inches. (This clever scheme eluded me at firsttoo obvious!) This simple fact has remarkable implications in that Berio not only composed into a temporal grid, but onto a spatial one as well. You can imagine then that the size of the page, the medium itself, determined the length of the score. And then an interesting dilemma in the relationship between temporal and spatial structure arises: fermatas capriciously buried within the score add value to the temporal structure (3'', 4'', 6'', etc.) but not to the spatial structure. These fermatas are not of the usual type, lengthening a note by an unprescribed amount to be determined at the

whim of the performer; they are given specific durations that the performer must adhere to. The fermatas, in a sense, provide for strange deformations in the piece's time-space fabric. Again, what first appears in Sequenza VII to be merely an innovation in composition, is in fact at its heart, an innovation in notation. Another example of manipulating the space of the page would be the mirror music in Rounds for Harpsichord. Berio cleverly writes out a single page score (again, accompanied by a preface of the same length) such that it can be reversed and played backwards. Directions are given as to when this occurs. In order to reverse accidentals, Berio opts for a square-circle notation in which square shaped notes indicate raising the pitch a half-step like a sharp, and circle shaped notes are played as though they were given no accidentals. (One wonders whether the performer would have appreciated something else besides the shape of the notehead as an indicator of accidental.) Mirror music also occurs in one of the movements to Duetti per Due Violini, in Mauricio. In this case, one violin plays forwards, the other backwards. For performance, the score could be laid out horizontally on a platform between two performers facing each other and they could read the same score properly, each from their own vantage point. Here, Berio adds accidentals above the notes for both directions of reading, and this is probably a clearer notation than the one implemented in Rounds. Circles provides some of the most elusive notation to come out of Berio. The score provides only a partial explanation for the lines that sweep across parts that are intended to act as cues between performers. Its strangely undocumented thick boxy lines that encapsulate various fragments appear to have an abstract purpose. Some lines are also thickened, and the meaning of this device is unknown. In the Postscript to his book Music Notation, Gardner Read features a lone passage from Circles to serve as an example of what composers should not do: If notation

the written vehicle of musical expressionis to become so detached from all known frames of reference that it offers no key to the composer's ideas, what useful purpose can it serve? What musical communication can arise from such an enigma as this excerpt from a score that gives no clue to the meaning of its format or to most of its new symbols? That both symbols and format have by now become familiar to those who play and study avant-garde music does not alter the fact that no explanation for the non-specialist is offered by the composer in his score. Read is of course referring to the fact the Berio in this case leaves several aspects of the notation undefined. He makes the assumption that Berio intended to communicate performancerelated aspects in this notation, but his argument would not easily reconcile the complex relationship between notation and ambiguity that could be found in the works of John Cage. (And in fact, once again, the compositional innovations of Cage are also simultaneously notational.) Berio usually provides elaborate descriptions of his notational devices, so Read has certainly singled out a piece that is on the fringe of this composer's use of notation, but it might be worth asking anyway whether or not notational ambiguities deferred to the whims of the performer might also be veritable innovations in notation as well. Berio never wrote any purely conceptual music (i.e. music that consists only of performance directions, 4'33'' , Danger Music and the like), but the proportions of his prefaces in relationship to the music do indicate that concept often took high priority. Regardless of whether we are willing to accept the premise that notation is simply the container to the content of a composition, it should be readily apparent that many of Berio's compositional innovations correspond, arguably, to equally interesting innovations in notation. The wide range of compositional techniques he employed seems to be a reflection of a similarly

wide notational gamut. Especially considering the volume of music he wrote, perhaps it would be appropriate to call Berio not simply one of the great Composers of the modern times, but one the twentieth century's great Notaters.

Bibliography Berio, Luciano. Calmo per Mezzosoprano e 22 Strumenti. Wien: Universal Edition [UE 19478], 1989. Berio, Luciano. Chemins I (sur Sequenza II) per Arpa Principale ed Orchestra. London: Universal Edition [UE 13720], 1970. Berio, Luciano. Circles. Wien: Universal Edition [UE 13231], 1960. Berio, Luciano. Concerto Per Due Pianoforti e Orchestra. Milan: Universal Edition [UE 15783], 1973. Berio, Luciano. Concerto II (Echoing Curves) per Pianoforte Solo e Due Gruppi Strumentali. Wien: Universal Edition [UE 19117], 1988. Berio, Luciano. Cronaca Del Luogo: Azione musicale Testo di Talia P. Berio. Milan: BMG Ricordi Music Publishing, 1999. Berio, Luciano. Duetti per Due Violini. Milan: Universal Edition [UE 17757], 1982. Berio, Luciano. Encore per Orchestra. Milan: Universal Edition [UE 16821], 1981. Berio, Luciano. Fa-Si for Organ (with Registration Assistants). Milan: Universal Edition [UE 16827], 1975. Berio, Luciano. Gesti for Alto Recorder. London: Universal Edition [UE 13742], 1970. Berio, Luciano. Opus Number Zoo (Partitura). London: Universal Edition [UE 15637], 1975. Berio, Luciano. Recital I (for Cathy). London: Universal Edition [UE 13771], 1972. Berio, Luciano. Rounds for Harspichord. London: Universal Edition [13716], 1966. Berio, Luciano. Sequenza III per Voce Femminile. London: Universal Edition [UE 13723], 1968. Berio, Luciano. Sequenza VI per Cello Solo. Wien: Universal Edition [UE 13726a], 1970. Berio, Luciano. Sequenza VII for Oboe Solo. London: Universal Edition [UE 13754], 1971. Berio, Luciano. Tempi Concertati per Flauto Principale, Violino, Due Pianoforti ed Altri Strumenti. London: Universal Edition [13205], 1962. Osmond-Smith, David. Berio, Luciano. In Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/02815 (accessed December 16, 2009).

Read, Gardner. Music Notation: A Manual of Modern Practice. 2nd Edition. New York: Taplinger Publishing, 1979. Stravinsky, Igor. The Poetics of Music. Revised edition. Boston: Harvard University Press, 1993. Weisser, Benedict. Notational Practice in Contemporary Music: A Critique of Three Compositional Models (Luciano Berio, John Cage, and Brian Ferneyhough). Ph.D., Composition, City University of New York, 1998. xxi, 294 p.

Allowing the Performer to Choose a Different Route

Circles (for Harp, Percussion and Voice)

Advanced Pedaling Techniques and Random Sostenuto Pedal

Extensions to the Nominal Language

Extended Technique Organ (in Fa-Si)

Removing the Blocks Later in Fa-Si

Extended Techniques Gesti for Alto Recorder

Extended Techniques Harp (Chemins I)

Notating Narrated Text (Opus Number Zoo, Mov't 1)

Other Ways of Specifying Rhythm in Narration (Opus Number Zoo, Mov't 3)

Extended Vocal Technique Sequenza for Voice (excerpt from instructions)

Uses of Repeated Patterns

Uses of Notational Mirroring or Symmetry

Instructions to Rounds for Harpsichord

The Gamut of Berio's Use of Extended Notation

NOTATION AS PERFORMANCE PRACTICE

Basic extensions to the nominal language and convenience features Extensions to instrumental techniques Partially specified rhythm (for narration), specifying specific rhythms on a per-language basis Allowing player to make choices between alternatives Randomness (random pedaling, random continuation of a predefined set of notes) Facilitation of cues between players (Circles) Theatrical staging directions and commentary (i.e. Sinfonia, Recital I for Cathy) Extensions that inform composition (i.e. mirroring in Rounds and Mauricio) [also, extensions that solve a problem caused by another notational choice]

NOTATION AS COMPOSITION