A. Copland 「What to Listen for in Music」を読む

コープランドの「What to Listen for in Music」(2011版)を、原文と日本語訳の両方を見てゆきます。

「Copland On Music」を読む 第1回 の最終pp.46-51

The question that wants answering is whether Schonberg's twelve-tone music is the way to the future or whether it is merely a passing phase. Unfortunately it must remain an open question, for there are no guaranteed prognostications in the arts. All we know is that so-called diffucult composers have sometimes been the subject of remarkable revisions of opinion. One recent example is the case of Bela Bartok. None of us who knew his music at the time of his death in 1945 could have predicted the sudden upsurge of interest in his work and its present world-wide dissemination. One would have thought his musical speech too dour, too insistent, too brittle and uncompromising to hold the attention of the widest audience. And yet we were proved wrong. Conductors and performers seized upon his work at what must have been the right moment, a moment when the big public was ready for his kind of rhythmic vitality, his passionate and despairing lyricism, his superb organizational gift that rounds out the over-all shape of a movement while keeping every smallest detail relevant to the main discourse. Whatever the reasons, the Bartok case proves that there is an unconscious evolutionary process at work, responsible for sudden awareness and understanding in our listening habits. 



One of the attractions of concerning oneself with the new in music is the possible discovery of important work by the younger generation of composers. Certain patrons of music, certain publishers and conductors, and more rarely some older composers have shown a special penchant for what the younger generation is up to. Franz Liszt, for instance, was especially perceptive in sensing the mature composer while still in the embryonic stage. In his own day he was in touch with and encouraged the nationalist strivings of young composers like Grieg, Smetana, Borodine, Albeniz, and our own Edward MacDowell. The French critic Sainte-Beuve, writing at about that period, had this to say about discovering young talent: “I know of no pleasure more satisfying for the critic than to understand and describe a young talent in all its freshness, its open and primitive quality, before it is glossed over later by whatever is acquired and perhaps manufactured.” 



Today's typical young men appeared on the scene in the postwar years. They upset their elders in the traditional way by positing a new ideal for music. This time they called for a music that was to be thoroughly controlled in its every particular. As hero they chose a pupil and disciple of Schonberg, Anton Webern, whose later music was in many ways a more logical and less romantic application of Schonbergian twelve-tone principles. Inspired by Webern's curiosity original and seldom-performed music, every element of musical composition was now to be put under rigorous control. Not only the tone rows and their resultant harmonies, but even rhythms and dynamics were to be given the dodecaphonic treatment. The music they produced, admirably logical on paper, makes a rather haphazard impression in actual performance. I very well remember my first reactions on hearing examples of the latest music of these young men, because I noted them at the time. Let me read you a brief excerpt: “One gets the notion that these boys are starting again from the beginning, with the separate tone and the separate sonority. Notes are strewn about like disject membra; there is an end to continuity in the old sense and an end of thematic relationships. In this music one waits to hear what will happen next without the slightest idea what will happen, or why what happened did happen once it has happened. Perhaps one can say modern painting of the Paul Klee school has invaded the new music. The so-to-speak disrelation of unrelated tones is the way I might describe it. No one really knows where it will go, and neither do I. One thing is sure, however, whatever the listener may think of it, it is without doubt the most frustrating music ever put on a performer's music-stand” 



Since I made those notations some of the younger European composers have branched off into the first tentative experiments with electronically produced music. No performers, no musical instruments, no microphones are needed. But one must be able to record on tape and be able to feed into it electromagnetic vibrations. Those of you who have heard recordings of recent electronic compositions will agree, I feel sure, that in this case we shall have to broaden our conception of what is to be included under the heading of musical pleasure. It will have to take into account areas of sound hitherto excluded from the musical scheme of things, And why not? With so many other of man's assumptions subject to review how could one expect music to remain the same? Whatever we may think of their efforts, these young experimenters obviously need more time: it is pointless to attempt evaluations before they have more fully explored the new terrain. A few names have come to the fore: in Germany, Karlheinz Stockhausen, in France, Pierre Boulez, in Italy, Luigi Nono and Luciano Berio. What they have composed has produced polemics, publication, radio sponsorship abroad, annual conclaves - but no riots. The violent reaction of the teens and twenties to the then-new music of Stravinsky, Darius Milhaud, and Schonberg is, apparently, not to be repeated so soon again. We have all learned a thing or two about taking shocks, musical and otherwise. The shock may be gone but the challenge is still there and if our love for music is as all-embracing as it should be, we ought to want to meet it head on. 



It hardly seems possible to conclude a talk on musical pleasures at an American university without mentioning that ritualistic word, jazz. But, someone is sure to ask, is jazz serious? I'm afraid that it is too late to bother with the question, since jazz, serious or not, is very much here, and it obviously provides pleasure. The confusion comes, I believe, from attempting to make the jazz idiom cover broader expressive areas than naturally belong to it. Jazz does not do what serious music does either in its range of emotional expressivity or in its depth of feeling, nor in its universality of language. (It does have universality of appeal, which is not the same thing.) On the other hand, jazz does do what serious music cannot do, namely, suggest a colloquialism of musical speech that is indigenously delightful, a kind of here-and-now feeling, less enduring than classical music, perhaps, but with an immediacy and vibrancy that audiences throughout the world find exhilarating. 



Personally I like my jazz free and untrammeled, as far removed from the regular commercial product as possible. Fortunately the more progressive jazz men seem to be less and less restrained by the conventionalities of their idiom, so little restrained that they appear in fact to be headed our way. By that I mean that harmonic and structural freedoms of recent serious music have had so considerable an influence on the younger jazz composers that it becomes increasingly difficult to keep the categories of jazz and non-jazz clearly divided. A new kind of cross-fertilization of our two worlds is developing that promises an unusual synthesis for the future. We on the serious side greatly envy the virtuosity of the jazz instrumentalist, particularly his ability to improvise freely, and sometimes spectacularly apropos of a given theme. The jazz men, on their side, seem to be taking themselves with a new seriousness; to be exploring new instrumental combinations, daring harmonic patterns - going so far occasionally as to give up the famous jazz beat that keeps all its disparate elements together, and taking on formal problems far removed from the symmetrical regularities imposed on an earlier jazz. Altogether the scene is lively, very lively, and a very full half century away from the time when Debussy was inspired to write Golliwog's Cake-walk. 

私個人としてはジャズは自由で制限のないものであってほしいと思っている一般に商業目的で扱われている代物とは、出来るだけ距離を置いてほしいとも思っている。うれしいことに、比較的意欲的な取り組みをしているジャズメン達は、表現方法において彼らの昔からの伝統や慣習にあまりとらわれないようだ。それも殆どとらわれないようで、実際の処、我々芸術音楽の方へ目が向いているようだ。何が言いたいかというと、最近(1960年)の芸術音楽が扱う和声法や曲の組み立て方が、若手のジャズ作曲家達に大きな影響を与えており、ジャズとそうでない音楽の区別が、急ピッチでつきにくくなりつつある。未来に向けて、今までになかった融合を成し遂げて見せる、といわんばかりに、我々二つの音楽分野の、新たな、垣根を超えた異種交配が進みつつある。芸術音楽の側から見てうらやましいのは、ジャズの器楽奏者達の腕前である。特に自由闊達なインプロバイゼーション、与えられたテーマを、あまりにも見事な的確さで展開してゆくこともしばしばである。ジャズメンの方はというと、 新たな芸術性の確立を模索しているようであるこれまでにない楽器の組み合わせの開拓、思い切った和声パターンの導入といったものは、時として思い切りが良すぎるあまり、様々な要素を一つにまとめていたジャズならではのビートを用いず、昔ながらのジャズに課せられたバランス感覚に関するルールがもたらしていた形式上の問題を排除している。総じて、その取り組みは活発である。非常に活発である。ドビュッシーがジャズに触発されて「ゴリウォーグのケークウォーク」を作曲してから(1908年)、たっぷり半世紀が経っている。 


By now I hope to have said enough to have persuaded you of the largesse of musical pleasure that awaits the gifted listener. The art of music, without specific subject matter and with little specific meaning, is nonetheless a balm for the human spirit - not a refuge or escape from the realities of existence, but a haven wherein one makes contact with the essence of human experience. I myself take sustenance from music as one would from a spring. I invite you all to partake of that pleasure.