It's surely a sign that a composer has added something to
our lives when merely the mention of his
name will conjure up musical images in our mind's ear. It
is only necessary to say Chopin, for example, in order to
recall the rich legacy of his music in our aural memories.
We even go so far as to form adjectives, such as Mozartian,
or Schoenbergian, to describe musical features in meaningful
ways. For many people today the name George Perle has this
magic. Just its mention rings with the sound of his music:
it recalls artful phases, overlapping, colliding, dovetailing,
dancing with wonderful elegance one moment, coming to a sudden
halt the next, rich harmonies which seem to have an internal
logic and consistency all their own, unlike that of any other
music; clear, brilliant, and inventive orchestration which
masterfully captures the colors and subtleties of instruments
and allows them to sound free and natural; a high minded and
deeply serious concern with making music all that it can be;
a rich and humorous texture full of musical equivalents of
puns, jokes, and riddles; and most of all a music which is
clear, understandable, and inviting.
For
those fortunate enough to know the composer personally, his
name also conjures an image of tirelessness and passion for
music;
he sleeps little and is totally absorbed by his work—
how else could he have written seven important books and numerous
articles, dozens of extraordinary pieces, been a devoted and
effective teacher for more than forty years, and become known
as an important theorist of contemporary music as well as the
world's leading Berg scholar. Conversation with George invariably
revolves about music—he always has an infectious enthusiasm
about something musical. Whether he is enthralling you with
the mysteries of Berg, his own compositional theories, or any
of the musical discoveries he makes daily, you always feel enlightened
and uplifted. For him music is simply the most wonderful thing
there is, and after having talked with George you feel this
way too.
Despite
the depth and breadth of his activities, he is basically and
deeply a composer, and his music is his finest and most eloquent
accomplishment. The sound and surface of his music is marked
by a relative simplicity which is actually the underpinning
of a rich and complex language based on principles he has developed
and which owe much to the thinking of Bartók, Stravinsky,
Schoenberg, and Berg. He has eschewed serialism, however, and
his compositional approach is one which differs fundamentally
from most post–Schoenbergian practice. Moreover, Perle's
music does not present itself in radical disjunction with tonal
music and music of the past. In fact, his way of composing owes
as much to tonality as it does to post–chromatic dodecaphonic
thinking. Concepts of harmony, counterpoint, formal consequence,
and coherence are as vivid and lively in Perle's music as they
are in tonal music. His music is a special language, and while
each piece sings uniquely and individually, his language is
consistent, convincing, and all his own. The quality and character
of his body of pieces is remarkable and unforgettable; there
is nothing else remotely like it. It reveals no sense of arbitrary
abstraction, formalism, or the whims of fashion. The notes are
alive with a life, breath, and purpose which only a superbly
gifted musician can create.
George
Perle often talks enthusiastically about dance: Balanchine
and Stravinsky hold a special place in his heart. It is therefore
not surprising that one of the most palpable features of his
music is its compelling and persuasive rhythmic profile. His
music moves with the subtlety and sureness of good ballet—it
has a real physical, rhythmic presence. Some might say it
"swings," but I prefer to say that George's music
really dances!
