Farben

Every now and then, in the history of music, compositions emerge that transcend their time. This isn't because they're great works, starting points for future generations, but because, for some strange and indefinable reason, their language transcends contemporaneity, giving rise to something difficult to date. Something that, to the eyes of someone even familiar with the history of Western music, appears as an object difficult to place in a historical period, a piece assigned a date much later than its birth, a piece that almost slipped from the composer's grasp because, presumably, not even he was able to fully understand what he had done.
Precisely for this reason, these compositions are usually not highly regarded when they are first presented, because they have something unusual about them or, in any case, sound "strange." They're often difficult to understand because their language isn't yet fully codified, but the whys and hows of this are inexplicable at the time. Only history can tell.

This is the case with Arnold Schoenberg's Farben. It is the third of the five pieces for orchestra, Op. 16, composed in 1909.
In these pieces, the expressionist setting and the atonal language that supports it reach the highest levels.
Melody, harmony, and even rhythm (Schoenberg's most criticized and least innovative element) are heard in a single polyphonic space in which the chromatic totality is fully utilized in a free, innovative, and independent manner.

This is the atonal period of this second Viennese school, which lasted from 1909 to 1923 (the year the twelve-tone theory was defined). In my opinion, it is one of Schoenberg's most fruitful periods. The freedom to experiment and the inventive richness that permeates the compositions of this era will be difficult to equal, even in the years to come.

"Farben," the author's subtitle for this piece, means "colors," but in German, this word, combined with Klang (sound), takes on the meaning of musical timbre (Klangfarben). Timbre is precisely the key element of this piece, in which Schoenberg takes a decisive step toward that Klangfarbenmelodie (melody of timbres) that had always been one of his dreams.
Legend, in fact, tells of Farben as being born from a discussion between Schoenberg and Malher (his admirer and protector) on the idea of creating a piece based not on a succession of pitches (notes), but on a succession of timbres.
Here Schoenberg attempts and partially succeeds.

Farben begins with a five-note chord (C, G#, B, E, a) long, sustained passage that alternates between two instrumental groups: two flutes, clarinet, bassoon, viola, and an English horn, trumpet (muted), bassoon, horn (muted), and viola, with the double bass acting as a bridge.

However, it is almost impossible to do without the articulation of pitches in our music. To do so means arriving at something radically different, and it was decidedly impossible to do so in 1909.
Thus, within Farben there is also a five-part canon that is almost imperceptible because the melodies pass from one instrument to another, and its identification is made even more complex by small, precise groups of sound (almost like dust) of increasing density.
It seems that Schoenberg wanted to use the canon to give formal unity to the whole, hiding it, however, from conscious perception, somewhat like certain Bachian structures that support some pieces from the Art of Fugue or the Goldberg Variations, becoming visible only upon examination of the score. Here, the perception is of an apparently static initiality that gradually fragments into a multiplicity of voices until the final reunion in a changing sonic fabric.

Thanks to this experimental approach, Farben takes on a form that is absolutely unusual for its time, yet projected towards a possible future. It is a short piece: only 44 bars (just over 3'20") which, inserted in the midst of the expressionist fury of Op. 16, sound like a meditative interlude. One of the images cited in connection with this piece by Schoenberg the painter speaks of the reflections of light on the waters of a lake. However, in isolation, it could very well sound like a pre-Ligeti piece from the 1960s or something by Xenakis from the late 1950s, but even if someone were to write it today, I wouldn't consider it a dated piece.

listen to: Farben

Here you have an attempt at a video analysis (better watch on YouTube to zoom in full screen)

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