Even those who don’t enjoy his music will surely appreciate the irony that Arnold Schoenberg, whose twelve-tone method of composition continues to strike fear in the hearts of many, himself dreaded the number 13.
Not only did his triskaidekaphobia likely hasten his demise – the superstitious Schoenberg died on Friday, July 13, 1951, at the age of 76 (he had been out of sorts all year, as his astrologer had alerted him that 7 + 6 = 13) – the irony is compounded, as today the world marks the sesquicentennial of his birth, on yet another Friday the 13th.
Winston Churchill’s assessment of Russia in 1939 could just as easily have been applied to this most influential composer of the 20th century. Schoenberg was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma – a man cloaked in irony and contradiction.
For one thing, his very name, “Schoenberg,” translates as “beautiful mountain,” yet those who would characterize his music as such are distinctly in the minority.
He was the greatest prophet of dodecaphonic music, yet he claimed an artistic kinship with Johannes Brahms.
He preached the death of tonality, even as he orchestrated his share of Viennese operettas and arranged Strauss waltzes for performance by his friends.
He was a Jew, who converted to Lutheranism, but swung back hard to Judaism, in defiance of Hitler.
He was probably the least “popular” composer in the world, but his tennis partner was none other than George Gershwin. The two also shared a love of painting.
Adding to this beautiful mountain of contradictions, Schoenberg, like that other titan of 20th century music, Igor Stravinsky, wound up living in Hollywood.
Both men were suspicious of the movies (and each other), yet both were hoping to break into films. Stravinsky wrote cues for “The Song of Bernadette,” “Jane Eyre,” and “The North Star” (the latter ultimately scored by Copland). None of his music was used in the pictures – Stravinsky was too slow and demanded too much money – but some of it was recycled in his concert works.
Likewise, Schoenberg was courted for a film adaptation of “The Good Earth,” but his proposed $50,000 fee put an end to that.
Twelve-tone music did eventually make it into the movies, thanks to composers like Leonard Rosenman and David Raksin. Rosenman’s landmark score for “The Cobweb” (1955) is credited as the first predominantly twelve-tone score written for a motion picture. Raksin, the composer of “Laura,” also employed a tone row in the Edgar Allan Poe mystery, “The Man with a Cloak” (1951).
Interestingly, Schoenberg, the creator of “Pierrot Lunaire” and “Moses und Aaron,” was also a great fan of Hopalong Cassidy. Like Walt Whitman, an admittedly strange comparison, Schoenberg contained multitudes.
13 cheers for Arnold Schoenberg on the sesquicentennial of his birth!
“Variations for Orchestra,” conducted by Bruno Maderna
“Pierrot Lunaire”
With goats!
A kinder, gentler Schoenberg – the Suite for String Orchestra, given its premiere in Los Angeles in 1935:
Schoenberg in home movies – on the tennis court, naturally – with Gershwin and others. (Gershwin appears around 2:20.)
Still think Schoenberg’s not your bag? Put aside your trepidation and join me for an hour of his lighter music on “Sweetness and Light,” this Saturday morning at 11:00 EDT/8:00 PDT, on KWAX. Stream it wherever you are at the link!
