Music, Like Life, Thrives on Tension

Prof. Carol

At the end of my last post, I referred to recent compositions that strike the “right tension” between composer and listener. Let’s pick up that theme.
 
Tension. We tend to think of tension as negative: a tension headache, or too much tension at work. Quite the contrary. Tension is a positive element in life. Think of the chick pecking open its shell. Tap, tap, tap, until, poof, there’s a hole for its startled head to poke through.
 
Tension is critical in the arts. It’s a creative force. Artists are constantly rapping against shells, trying to break through to something bigger, more alive. And you don’t have to be an “artist” to understand artistic tension.  Sometimes, the creative tension inside us leads us to study something—say music—at a later point in our lives.
 
Tension doesn’t exist alone. It needs its opposite: release. Tension-release, tension-release. From poetry to pottery, we find this dynamic, or interaction, in all of the arts.
 
So what about music? How does a composer set up tension-release?  How important is tension-release in capturing the listener’s ear? And, thinking historically, have the basics of tension-release changed throughout the course of Western music?
 
Let’s turn to an exercise in listening. Let’s use arguably one of the most famous pieces of instrumental music: the first movement of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony: “duh-duh-duh daah” . . . or “Fate Knocking at the Door.” At least, that’s what some people call the opening pattern.
 
Oh that pattern! It’s tense. It starts abruptly. We don’t know where we are in the beat. We can’t figure out the harmony. Just this opening pitch that’s drilled three times (“duh, duh, duh”). Each repeated pitch adds tension. 
 
Then, there’s a drop down to a longer pitch (a little bit of release). But then . . . there’s silence.  Silences (rests) are not always “restful”—this one certainly isn’t. We’re left hanging, unsure what we’ve heard, unsure what will happen next. 
 
Why don’t you take it from there? What happens next? What causes tension, and what creates release? Listen several times to the opening—yes, I know, we’ve all heard it a hundred times. But put on your analytical ears, and listen like a scientist. Track what you’re hearing and feeling in those first 15 to 20 seconds. Because that’s where Beethoven gives us the germ of the piece. In fact, it’s called a germinal motive: it germinates the rest of the movement.
 
I can promise you one thing (and I don’t make promises lightly!).  If you try this kind of microscopic listening, the entire musical experience gets more rewarding. Like any skill, it takes practice. But putting on “composer’s ears” and delving into the nuts and bolts of a musical composition is one fabulous ride. We’ll keep sharpening our analytical ears in the next post and look at a word people associate more with fabric than with music: texture.

Carol Reynolds, aka Professor Carol, a former music history professor at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas, has launched a new company, Silver Age Music. Her latest product is a multimedia course: “Discovering Music: 300 Years of Interaction in Western Music, Art, History, & Culture.” Prof. Carol now lives on a ranch, raises goats, and writes and lectures on classical music (to humans).