The orchestra and orchestral music

The orchestra is an instrument, and composers have developed methods of writing for it. The fundamental principles of these methods constitute that branch of musical art called orchestration. It is not the purpose of the present volume to teach that branch; but it is entirely within its province to point out to the reader how composers make use of their majestic and many-voiced instrument. In compass and power alone it surpasses all other instruments. The compass of the modern orchestra is enormous. It extends from grave, low sounds to those of such acute pitch that the ear does not relish them if uttered loudly. The extreme normal compass is shown by the following illustration:

Mr. Corder, in his “Modern Orchestra and How to Write for It,” gives this interesting dynamic scale: “Suppose the degrees of sound-intensity to range from 1 (in ppp) to 12 (in fff); then one might say roughly that

I should modify this by shifting the pianissimo of low clarinet tones back to 2, that of drums forward to 2, and that of trumpets and trombones to 4.

Now, if there were nothing else to be considered, a composer would have to work according to some system in using the compass and force of his orchestra. What is known in regard to the method of doing so is the result of many long years of experiment by the early writers. In a general way, I may say that composers in writing a passage for the entire orchestra can give the melody to all the soprano instruments, the alto to all that have an alto compass, the tenor to all the tenors, and the bass to all the basses. For example—flutes, clarinets, oboes, and violins may utter a melody in unison, while the remaining instruments supply the accompaniment. But it is rare that a composer writes in only four parts for orchestra. He usually spreads his chords out to six or eight parts, thus gaining in richness and sonority of tone.

But compass and power are not all the composer must consider. He has at his command a great variety of tonal qualities. We have already seen how the characteristics of certain instruments, singing as solo voices, are peculiarly suited to the embodiment of special kinds of music. Now the writer for orchestra must study the result of every possible combination of all or any of the instruments to the end that he may produce just the desired tone, and that he may never produce anything different from that which he wishes. The tonal tints of a modern orchestra are the richest pigments of the musician’s palette, and he must know how to use them either singly or combined, just as the painter knows how to use his colors. The simplest way in which I can point out the peculiarities of the composer’s work is by discussing separately the uses of the different choirs.

The principal requirements of good orchestration are solidity, balance of tone, contrast, and variety. Solidity is obtained by a proper dispersal of the harmony, so that certain notes in the chords do not stand out too prominently at the expense of others. The composer must not only be a master of harmony, but he must have the true harmonic feeling. He must have that almost instinctive grasp of the proportions of chords which can come only from real musical gifts cultivated by long familiarity with modern music. This feeling is not necessarily accompanied by restlessness and complexity of harmony. The harmonic effect of a simple diatonic Bach chorale is infinitely grander than the most intricate chromatic convolutions of a Charbrier overture. The true harmonic feeling is one that always produces artistic proportions, and these will permeate the instrumentation and produce solidity, provided the composer has sufficient intimacy with the instruments to prevent him from giving them the wrong notes. The foundation of solidity in orchestration is good writing for the strings. Their part of the score must always be planned with complete harmonic skill, not only because they are the main prop of the whole instrumental body, but because the man who cannot write well for strings will inevitably fail in handling wood and brass.

Solidity in tutti passages merges itself in balance of tone. This depends also upon a proper dispersal of the harmony and on a knowledge of the relative power of the instruments of the three choirs. For instance, it is not possible to play wood as softly as strings. Consequently, in a pianissimo the composer must know just what wood instruments to use and what parts of the chord to give them, lest he overbalance his strings. Solidity requires great skill in writing the middle voices. If they are too strong, the orchestration is muddy; if they are too weak, it is thin, and the orchestra, as the saying goes, is “all top and bottom.”

Contrast is necessary in order that monotony of color may be avoided. It is obtained by using the three choirs of the orchestra separately, by employing any subdivision of each, or using simultaneously subdivisions of two, and so on. Variety is produced by mixing the tints. For example, a passage played by a flute alone changes color when an oboe sings in unison with the flute. Another tint results when a clarinet is added. It is not necessary to pursue this topic further than to say that the composer must know what tints will mix well to produce a new one.