Today we’ll look take a look at something that is very often lost on today’s audiences of classical music: musical humor. As far as the Classical period goes, no one does humor better than Papa Haydn. The audiences of Haydn’s day loved the kinds of things he put into his music. Maybe you’re familiar with the “Surprise” Symphony (Symphony No. 94), where in the second movement a very, very quiet opening is punctuated by a sudden blast of fortissimo meant to give a little jolt to any audience members who thought they were in for a standard evening of concert-napping.
We’re not going to look at that piece, but you can listen to it here. We’re going to look at two other pieces today: one string quartet, and one symphony.
Get excited, folks.
For the first piece, we need to learn a new form. But don’t stop reading yet! This form has no scary terms like “development” or “monothematic exposition” attached. We just need to know our letters: A, B, and C.
The form I’m talking about is a rondo. You may have even learned about it in music class when you were really little. Apparently they teach it in elementary music nowadays. I don’t remember ever being taught it, but I was probably daydreaming about Star Wars at the time. If I’d had the suit when I was little, I would have been this kid.
Anyway, the rondo form is an old form where a theme or refrain alternates with sections of contrasting material called episodes. We’ll give our refrain a letter. Let’s call it “A.” Then we have something different for the first episode. We’ll call that “B.” Then we get the refrain again. That’s the simplest rondo form: ABA. Idea, different idea, first idea again. The important part is that the refrain always keeps coming back. We can expand the form too, to get things like ABACA, where “C” is different from A and B, or ABACABA, which is pretty fun to say phonetically. Easy, right?
Now that we have that down, our first piece is Haydn’s String Quartet Op. 33, No. 2, The Joke. That last part is a nickname for the quartet is because of the last movement, marked Presto. Let’s take a listen:
The first thing we hear is the theme. The theme of a rondo has to be good because it keeps coming back again and again. This theme is in a light and agile 6/8 meter, which gives it a pleasant lilting motion. We get many of same kinds of figures throughout the melody, making it recognizable and memorable. While we’re here, let’s talk about structure. Music is organized in many ways, including pitches, durations, and phrases. We’ve talked about some big structures, like fugue and sonata form, but we haven’t talked about the smaller phrase structures. The first part of a rondo form is called “A,” but the first section of this rondo lasts from :00 all the way until :57 seconds. Clearly a lot of music happens in that space, but how do we label it?
Let’s use little letters, since capital letters are already used up for the big sections. Let’s call the first thing we hear “a.” At :06-:07 we get a cadence, and then a phrase repeats, so now we have aa. Then we get new material, “b,” at :12 seconds. At :19 seconds some of you probably want to argue for a new section, but listen carefully to the bottom voice (the cello), and you’ll hear that it’s stuck on the dominant, and stays there all the way until :29. Since we don’t have a cadence until then, and cadences are our big structural points for classical music, all of the preceding is still b. So now we have aab. Then what’s this? It’s a again! Then b again at :35 and a again at :51. Finally, at :57, we get to a new section, capital B. The structure of A turns out to be aababa.
B starts at :57, and now we start listening for contrasts. First of all, we have continuous triplets in the first violin and an increase in volume, so we get a change in figuration and in dynamics. There’s a lot more drama in this section, with accents (musical stresses) and a switch to minor mode at 1:07. We get a big build up from 1:15 up to 1:22 where we land on a dominant chord. The music could stop here, but instead Haydn keeps going, and the first violin shrinks down chromatically as the cello moves up. This motion in different directions is called contrary motion. In this case, the effect is humorous: after building up to a big dramatic dominant chord, we are ready for the tonic. Instead, the harmony kind of deflates to a grand pause. Then our happy little refrain pops back in at 1:25. This contrast is what’s funny. It’s as if the harmony fell over and then sprang back up pretending nothing happened.
Notice that this time around the A section only consists of aba. Shortening a refrain like this is common. The first time around, repetition is important so you remember what the refrain sounds like. Subsequent appearances can be shorter since you know what’s up. You’re heard it before.
At 1:53 the next section begins, and since it’s different from both A and B, we’ll call it “C.” The C section is characterized by a passing of the melody down from the first violin (1:54) to the second violin and viola (1:57) to the cello (1:59), and lots of excited, sprightly playing in the first violin. The use of the different voices shows why Haydn is one of the “fathers” of the string quartet. The writing is well suited to the ensemble and exploits a range of what the instruments can do. I really enjoy this episode, which seems to have a very sunny character. This section shares some traits in common with the B section. At 2:12, we land on a big repetition of the dominant, and after an awkward pause, the harmony shrinks down at 2:16 to an overly dramatic fermata or “hold” in the music.
Then, at 2:25, back to statement of A with a decisive cadence, and we’re done! So, our final form is-
Hold it, what’s this? At 2:35 we get a very serious Adagio (slow) section, which finally ends the piece. So, as I was saying, our form-
JKLOLZ!!!1!! At 2:52, the A theme is back! This time, it has a bunch of little pauses in it. It’s like Haydn is just daring you to clap and be that one person who fell for it. At 3:03 we sound like we finally get our ending, but after an even longer pause, we get a tiny pianissimo statement of the first part of the theme and…
…is it over?
Yes, this time it is. It’s actually a really funny little ending. After about five fake-out endings, Haydn finally ends on something that makes harmonic sense (the underlying harmony of the last statement is I-V-I), but is a melodic joke. We’re used to hearing that whimsical little melody completed, but we don’t get it, and if the performers are in on the joke, they won’t move and we won’t know the piece is over. When we think the movement is done we instead get three different endings, and when we think the phrase should go on, it doesn’t and we get the actual ending. And that’s “the joke.” It’s great writing, and it’s funny if you know what to listen for.
As I was trying to say, our final form is ABACA. But the piece could have been over at 2:31, so what do we make of this last section? This extra material after a closing cadence is called a coda, from the Italian word for “tail.” Many pieces have codas, since they give the composer a chance to explore musical ideas even after the formal requirements of the piece have been completed. Our actual final form is: ABACA Coda.
Okay. I know I said we’d look at a symphony too, but this post is long enough as is. I’ll post the symphony this evening with MORE of Haydn’s wily tricks.
A Matter of Music 