On Serialism

Total Serialism, in and of itself, is a failed experiment. It is an attempt to bring back to music an order that has, in the most basic sense, disappeared. Since Cage and the experimental movement in the nineteen sixties, literally anything- even those things that do not produce sound- can be considered music, from the mixing of a vegetable smoothie to continuing to walk in a certain direction. This loss of definition of music and subsequent infinite multiplication of available musical materials is a nearly overwhelming prospect for a composer to face, and total Serialism is merely a means of coping. To clarify what I mean by this, I will first offer a brief explanation of total serial technique and its goal of establishing order in an otherwise chaotic and disorganized system, then explain the shortcomings of such a technique. This will lead to the conclusion that, while total Serialism can be a useful source of material, it should not be considered an artistic standard that composers should aspire to fulfill.


Serialism is a technique by which the twelve pitches are organized into “rows.” These rows can be manipulated mathematically through transposition, inversion, retrograding, recombination, and any combination of these techniques. This mode of composition was created by Arnold Schoenberg at the beginning of the twentieth century and was practiced most popularly by his students Alban Berg and Anton Webern. This trio, affectionately referred to as the Second Viennese School, used Serialism as a system of organization for atonal music. The most pertinent (though not entirely correct) analogy is that of serial rows to tonal scales or keys. The composers of the Second Viennese School used the system to find pitch material, but inserted their personal voices, or a human element, through rhythm, dynamics, expression, tempo, timbre, and instrumentation.


Composers after the Second World War, most notably Pierre Boulez, considered the work of the Second Viennese School an important step in the modernization of compositional technique, but thought that the potential of the system had not been fully realized. They began to apply the technique used for pitches to all aspects of music, such as rhythm and dynamics. This fuller application of the technique defines total Serialism. In this system, pitches are often assigned numbers as per set theory, and these are entered into a matrix for manipulation. By translating the pitches into number values, these values can be retranslated into durations, volumes, or whatever else the composer might desire. The following diagram will be of use for understanding the technique. It illustrates how first the pitches are translated into numbers, and then how the numbers are entered into a matrix.





The use of total Serialism entirely changes the role of the composer. In the Second Viennese School, once the pitches had been selected, the composers would manipulate them to create an expressive, emotional meaning (possibly a holdover from the romantic era’s view of music as a tool for expression). With total Serialism, whatever formula for the application of rows the composer decided to use predicted how the music would sound. The argument in favor of this is that the composers of the time, just after the end of the war, wanted to remove themselves from the music entirely. They thought that personal expression (especially nationalism) in music had been partly to blame for the worldwide tragedy of the war, and that by removing themselves from the music a similar catastrophe in the future could be avoided.


Whether or not this self-centered view of the world is healthy, the composers accomplished their goal of removing themselves from the music. The sound of much total serial music is stark and sterile, like Boulez’s Structures for two pianos, and the often creative and ingenious mathematical thinking that goes into writing such music is lost on the listener. Here is where the practice of total Serialism begins to fall apart.


The total serialists criticized the Second Viennese School for not having taken Serialism far enough, yet they themselves did not fully expand its possibilities. For example, they remained connected to the music of the past that they were trying to break away from by continuing to use the same system of twelve tones, as opposed to reconsidering their basic notions of music, as many of the experimentalists did. Their philosophy and technique did not realize its full potential, and with the current move towards the postmodern juxtaposition of contrasting styles and research into twelve-tone tonality, it most likely never will.


In evaluating the total serialists’ goal and achievement, they should be given credit for creativity and for attempting something entirely unheard of in music before them. The common problem that many of the total serialist composers share is that in their dedication to their systems, they have entirely neglected the importance of the surface aesthetic of the music.


One from their generation, however, stands above the others for his ability to combine expression with total Serialism, and that is Luigi Nono. In his Il Canto Sospeso, the pitch, duration, timbre, and dynamics are all dictated by serial methods, but his application of these procedures, as well as his willingness to break with what the system dictates, give the piece not only a clear sense of lyricism (the “pop-sensibility” lacking in much avant-garde music) but a personal, human touch. Nono would even leave out notes that the formula demanded in the name of lyricism and expressivity. This, as is elucidated by Nono in his essay The Historical Reality of Music Today, is because he is conscious of the past, and tries to learn what he can from it while using the new system and the sounds it opens up for use.


Many people enjoy Nono’s music far more than that of the other total serialists. His music has commonalities with the kinds of music people most frequently enjoy: rock, pop, hip hop, and jazz. The best known and most listened to concert music comes from the classical and romantic eras. These musical genres are highly expressive, and are often lyrical, two characteristics which are attractive to many people. We find these in Nono’s work, and people connect with music that has a meaning in its sound.


I do not propose that we, as composers and musicians, regress to a musical style that is over a hundred years old. Serialism can be a useful source of material, but that material is most effective when used in a meaningful context. Locking oneself into such a restrictive system discloses a fear of having to choose which materials to use from the virtually unlimited resources available, and places strict limits on artistic creativity. To accept any one system as a standard for all composition seems simply naïve. Yet, the serialists made an important contribution to the palate of sounds and ideas that we composers can draw from. We can use the sounds the serialists have invented in combination with historical precedents and our own new creations to push music into new grounds and open up new sonic worlds for the enjoyment of our listeners.