Friday, April 24, 2020

Ragtime and Sonata Forms, Part 17: William Caplin's Classical Forms--building blocks of themes, possible application toward Joplin's "The Entertainer"


17.       William Caplin’s Classical Forms--the building blocks of themes in the eighteenth century and possible application toward Scott Joplin’s themes in “The Entertainer”

At long last we’re ready to discuss formal analytical literature that deals with sonata forms.  In the last few decades there has been a renewed interest in formal analysis in American music theory scholarship.  William E. Caplin’s work has been useful to me for thinking through music at the nuts and bolts levels.  His work has dealt with music at the phrase level and the theme level.  If you have not read his work I strongly recommend you read it.  If your background is mainly popular music rather than classical music Caplin’s work will nevertheless be useful to you.  If we who have enjoyed pop songs and have thought in terms of verse, pre-chorus, chorus, bridge and the like feel that classical music from, say, the eighteenth century is a bit opaque, do not fear.  Caplin devotes a big chunk of his book on classical forms to what he calls “tight-knit” themes. These are themes that can be examined at the level of the sentence, with a presentation phrase and a continuation phrase; the period, with an antecedent phrase and a consequent phrase; as well as small ternary and binary forms.  Caplin deals with simple theems, hybrid themes and compound themes in the first 90 pages of his work. 

For the purpose of this project Caplin makes an observation that is crucial to seeing the potential for applying eighteenth century period methods of composition to a style like ragtime or jazz.

Classical Form: A Theory of Formal Functions for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven
William E Caplin
copyright (c) 1998 by Oxford University Press
Oxford University Press
ISBN 978-0-19-510486-06; 978-0-19-514399-7

… the smallest motives should not be construed as the fundamental building blocks. Rather, the classical work initially groups together several motives into a single gesture, a larger idea consisting of two real measures. This basic idea is small enough to group with other ideas into phrases and themes but large enough to be broken down (fragmented) I order to develop its constituent motives. Indeed, the opening material of a classical theme typically is integrated into larger formal units as well as disintegrated into smaller motivic elements. The two-measure basic idea is just the right size to act as the starting point for both these processes. 
page 37


The way we can translate this “basic idea” into terms that are more familiar to pop song writers is that the basic idea is a lick.  Ironically, for those steeped in what’s known as Baroque music the “basic idea” that could be in a sonata theme could just as easily the “basic idea” of a fugue subject.  I like to think of the sonata as a homophonic descendent of the procedural play that typified the fugue in earlier eras of music.  What the basic idea is, as the starting point for a theme, is a lick.  Not “the lick” but The Lick could be used as a fugue subject or as the basis for an identifiable theme.

Caplin mentions that in the past there was a notion, a nineteenth century notion, that sonata forms were predicated on melodic or thematic contrast.  In his chapter on subordinate themes, Caplin points out that there has long been discussion about the nature and substance of a subordinate theme in a classical form:

Just as the subordinate key contrasts with the home key, so too does the subordinate theme contrast with the main theme. The contrasting nature of these themes has long been discussed by theorists and historians. Today, of course, we generally reject the typical nineteenth-century position, which, by focusing on melodic-motivic design, held that a dynamic, “masculine” main theme stands in opposition to a lyrical, “feminine” subordinate theme. In fact, the frequent absence of such contrasting melodies in works of the classical composers, especially those of Haydn, has led most theorists to abandon melodic dualism as an essential element of classical form. Caplin, page 97

Now Caplin proposed, after Schoenberg and Ratz, that what is typically found in a classical sonata form is a tightly constructed opening theme that, after a transition, is followed by a more loosely constructed or open-ended theme.  For the purposes of a ragtime sonata form a few practical points are in order.  Ragtime, as dance music, is generally bursting with tight-knit themes.  It’s also typically a style that has hybrid or compound themes.  Take “Maple Leaf Rag”. There’s an initial statement, a repetition of the statement; then there’s a second phrase that is repeated and prepares the way for the rising chain of diminished chords that culminates in the second half of the first strain.  I’m taking it as given you know “Maple Leaf Rag” by heart already.  You could take any of those two-measure phrases and, in Caplin’s description of classical composing, “spin out” a sequence of phrases based on any of Joplin’s licks. 

You “can” compose a sonata that has a tight-knit opening theme and a looser subordinate theme but there’s no reason you have to feel obliged to.  Caplin’s observation is descriptive rather than prescriptive.  As Caplin also pointed out, in Haydn we’ll find that the contrast that nineteenth century theorists claimed ought to exist in the first and subordinate themes of a sonata wasn’t there.  Some scholars took to saying that Haydn (and Clementi, for another example) wrote monothematic sonatas.  There’s some scholastic debate about how accurate that term is but I’ll get to the scholars who contest “monothematic sonata form” later. 

For the purposes of a ragtime sonata what would “tight-knit” and “looser” or “open-ended” mean?  For those already familiar with the jargon of ragtime composition, the first strain or the ‘A’ strain is generally the tight-knit theme.  Pick almost any rag at random and this will prove true.  The “looser” or “open-ended” theme will tend to be the B strain and what this means in ragtime is the secondary or subordinate theme that usually follows the ‘A’ material is often a dominant to tonic oscillating pattern that eventual resolves to an authentic or half cadence that leads right back to the `A’ material.  “Maple Leaf Rag” and any number of Joplin rags demonstrate this pattern.

The problem is that the subordinate ‘B’ strain in a rag is clearly dependent upon the initial theme for its identity and would be, in Caplin’s terminology, a continuation phrase, if a large one.  In the Joplin rag the AABBACCDD structure so often used can be distilled down to a large ternary form, ABA.  We could choose to compose A as a stand alone theme or we could choose to have an ABA for a ragtime theme.  Either can work.  As we saw back in part 11, Sor’s Op. 29 study in E flat has a first theme that is a mere eight measures long and even that eighth measure doubles up as the beginning of a modulating transition.  Compared to the Sor etude themes any of Scott Joplin’s themes are extravagantly large. 

Caplin’s large point about subordinate themes is that by way of tonal contrast (contrasting key) and some contrasting aspect of character there is thematic differentiation.  This doesn’t mean the the subordinate theme is even a different melody.  In a single-themed sonata the first version of the theme could be accompanied with steady, staccato block chords beneath the melody and the second version of the theme might have the melody in a bass register and slightly reharmonize the block chords.   Or perhaps in a single-themed sonata the “subordinate” version of the theme might be an inversion of the melody.  Per Taruskin’s comment about contrasts between tonal centers defining sonata forms in the age of Haydn, a point underscored by Charles Rosen at considerable length in his monograph Sonata Forms, the preparation and completion of the modulating transition does a lot of work to prepare for the arrival of the new or redefined theme.  That, however, is for the exposition, the initial presentation of the first theme in one key, with a transition, and the second theme in another key.

Now as Joplin famously insisted, it is never right to play ragtime fast.  If it’s never right to play ragtime fast what observations did Caplin make about slow movement forms that may be useful in writing ragtime sonatas?

Many slow movements are constructed in conventional sonata form. A number of modifications are frequently employed, however, to effect the kinds of formal compressions typically found in slow movements of any form. Most notably, a slow-movement sonata often fuses the transition and subordinate-theme functions, eliminates the entire transition (a technique favored by Mozart), or reduces the size of the development section (favored by Haydn). Caplin, page 109

So if you wanted to take a “Mozart” approach to a ragtime sonata you might eliminate a transition if you don’t need one.  Where in a ragtime sonata might one be able to freely dispense with a transition?  How about the recapitulation?  If a sonata form is defined by a tonal contrast more than a thematic contrast then when theme 1 and theme 2 return, both in the tonic key in a “textbook” sonata recapitulation, you could play theme 1 and theme 2 back to back without a break.  This would, in fact, be exactly what happens in many a ragtime piece where the C and D strains are played back to back to make the Joplin school structure of AABBACCDD.

But in an exposition the first theme and the second theme would be expected to have contrasting keys.  How would, given Caplin’s general guidelines for sonata forms, we propose to create an exposition using, say, strains from “The Entertainer?”  The A strain would be theme 1, of course, but what about the B strain?  Lovely as it is it is too recursive and too bound by tradition and construction to return either to itself or the A strain to be a suitable subordinate theme.  The C strain of “The Entertainer”, however, is a gorgeous theme in a contrasting key with a contrasting character.  So a sonata exposition based on “The Entertainer” could take Joplin’s A strain or even create an ABA from the opening strains, and then we could compose a modulating transition of some kind that leads to the C strain as the subordinate theme.  Joplin’s C strain is score in F major but it could be in any key you wish. 

As for composing a transition between A or ABA, Joplin’s given us a lovely introduction that could be brought back after whatever Theme 1 is to serve as the basis for a modulating transition.  If we’re going to write a ragtime sonata then the structural conventions and norms of thematic cohesion in ragtime as a style are more important to observe than any theoretical listing of sentences and periods or tight-knit and loose or open-ended themes as described in a theory book on classical form.  I’m not here to shoehorn Joplin’s ragtime back into the style of Haydn.  I’m playing with what someone with Haydn’s flexible approach might choose to do with Joplin’s material as it is and making as few changes as possible.

As useful as I’ve found Caplin’s work to be for dealing with the nuts and bolts of what counts as a theme in an eighteenth century sonata movement or, for that matter, in a rag by Scott Joplin or Joseph Lamb, sonata forms are variable and complex.  Ragtimes are known for modular construction and the AABBACCDD of the Joplin rag seems pretty lockstep.  Is there a possible way to move beyond the constraints of the four bar phrases and sixteen-measure themes?  There is. 

Let’s recall that George Rochberg’s concept of time-space lets us chart the structure of music as heard in time.  It’s a pretty traditional way of thinking of music as a kind of linear path or journey.  There is, however, a second concept I want to introduce from another pioneering American composer that I believe should be added to Rochberg’s time-space. What we are trying to solve at a theoretical level in writing a ragtime sonata is how to address the apparent contrasts between a sonata exposition time-space and the time-space of a rag.  The contrasts are there but to write a ragtime sonata we need to observe where an A strain and a modulating transition and a C strain in a rag could map out to a sonata exposition.  Rochberg’s time-space lets us imagine the two separate paths of a sonata exposition in a work by Haydn and the AABBA of a Joplin rag. What time-space does not help us with is figuring out what temporal-spatial correspondences can let us use the strains of a ragtime as they are and do so in a way that still fulfills the structural differentiation processes that are identified in sonatas.

That is where Ben Johnston’s theoretical writings on music become very useful.

"Maximum Clarity" and other writings on music
Ben Johnston, edited by Bob Gilmore
University of Illinois Press
copyright (c) 2006 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois
ISBN-13: 978-0-252-03098-7 (cloth: alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-252-03098-2 (cloth: alk. paper)

To extend musical order further into the unintelligible jungle of randomness, and without simply eliminating that jungle—this is perhaps the fundamental aim of contemporary composition. Synthesized music, improvised music, totally organized music, music by chance, noise music, and music with extended pitch resources all tend either toward mere randomness or toward the extension of organizing techniques into more complex sound situations.

Proportionality aids memory greatly besides providing strong part-to-whole relationships. To base the organization of complex compositions solely upon serial techniques, which depend mainly on interval-scale ordering, is to use an inadequate mnemonic tool. A composer must settle for undigested randomness or else he must take great care to stimulate memory and proportional awareness.  Page 97

When you reach a philosophical impasse, you need to get to a more basic idea. You need to raise your assumptions about your field to a higher level of abstraction. If you do this successfully, what used to be basics will turn out to be special cases of more general principles. Einstein’s physics does not invalidate Newton’s. It simply reveals Newton’s laws to be special cases of more general ones. The discovery of DNA, a substance that controls the intracellular synthesis of proteins and is thus basic to life itself, does not knock out all of biochemistry up to that break through, but rather forces a reevaluation of many of its assumptions. 
There is no need to rule out chance, statistics, serialism. But let us also pursue, still more subtly, the techniques of rational proportion, which are capable of vastly more than has hitherto been asked of them.  What can be grasped with equal alacrity by ear, by mathematics, and by intuitive feeling is the best material for art. Page 111

If we think in terms of proportional correspondences across the time-space of a sonata form and the time-space of a rag then that can be a path toward having a sonata that uses ragtime strains for theatic material.  If in a rag the A strain is Theme 1 (as it always is) and Theme 1 repeats then perhaps where the B strain or the BB time-space would be in a traditional rag can be where the modulating transition and Theme 2 can appear (more often than what would normally be a C strain in a rag, for reasons I’ve already touched upon). 

So the following correspondences in time-space are what we have to consider

Sonata Exposition
Theme 1 in C major    transition                    Theme 2 in G major (or F major or whatever)
T1                                   Tr                                  T2

Joplin rag
A strain with repeat   B strain with repeat  
AA                                  BB

The return of the A strain, for my purposes would either be part of a Theme 1 in a sonata that is proportionally in the time-space of Theme 1 in a sonata exposition or, at a smaller scale, the reappearance of an A strain would proportionally correspond to the recapitulation of theme 1 in a sonata movement.  In other words, the structural norms of ragtime as practiced by Joplin and the structural norms of sonatas as written by Haydn give us some room to play with corresponding time-spaces.  But to understand how those proportional correspondences in temporal-spatial terms work we might need some help explaining how the time-space of a sonata form plays out at the level of what Leonard B. Meyer described as syntactic scripts.

It is at precisely the point where we are considered a time-space or a “zone” as part of a larger set of syntactic scripts that the work of James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy have done in Elements of Sonata Theory comes in handy.





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