Berio - Sequenza IXb
Luciano Berio (1925-2003) was an Italian composer who was part of the Darmstadt school and a leading figure in new music. Having studied abroad with Dallapiccola at Tanglewood, he became involved with composers such as Boulez, Stockhausen, Ligeti and Kagel. He taught extensively at Harvard, Tanglewood and Julliard, giving highly regarded lectures on music and composing. His interest in electronics led him to take up an important position at IRCAM and he latterly founded his own research centre for new music, the Tempo Reale, back in Italy.
Luciano Berio’s Sequenza series of compositions are perhaps the most well known amongst the composer’s output. These fourteen pieces for various solo instruments are among the most often performed contemporary solo pieces of in the world. A central theme in all the Sequenzas is that of virtuosity, evident not only in the technical difficulties presented, but also in the treatment and writing style for the instruments. Eduardo Sanguinetti wrote a collection of short verses for each of the Sequenzas with Berio’s approval, which may be recited before their performance.
Sequenza IXb for alto saxophone is developed from two pitch sets which are manipulated and deftly interwoven throughout the piece. The piece is neither integral nor traditional serialism, because the system of composition has been deliberately corrupted and altered according to the whims of Berio’s creative muse. The piece then might best be described as a sort of heightened serialism. After a relatively peaceful opening, the melodic line pirouettes through the harmonic commentary by way of dynamic, rhythmic and articulatory variation. According to the composer, the aim in passages such as these was to create “a polyphonic mode of listening” that implied harmonic information in addition to that which is overtly stated. A thorough exploration of the two tone rows is undertaken The piece leads inexorably towards a single pitch centre, the concert Ab which relentlessly invades the latter section of the piece.
It is interesting to consider that the original piece was conceived for clarinet and electronics, although Berio withdrew this work (Chemins V). Berio was famed for his reworking of pieces, most of which were really works-in-progress. A later version of the piece, Recit or Chemins VII uses the solo instrumental part but adds extensive orchestral accompaniment.
Melodic Gnosticism
An analysis concerning the treatment of melody in Berio’s
Sequenza IXb and how it may be interpreted by performers of the work.
Luciano Berio’s Sequenza IXb for alto saxophone has become a stalwart of saxophone repertoire and stands as a work of “singular vitality and directness,” (Osmond-Smith, 1991, p.1). Sequenza IXb has been interpreted differently by performers, listeners and musicologists who have all reached different conclusions. This essay will discuss the role of melody in the work and specifically how performers tackle its difficulties.
The last fifty years of Western Art Music have yielded far fewer memorable melodies than the previous four hundred. Although there are many outstanding works, enduring themes are notable by their absence. Even performers with exceptional aural skills often confess to hearing contemporary music as a global timbre, not as clear thematic or linear material. Indeed
in the absence of easily distinguishable melodic or harmonic gestalts, the listener has to fall back on a mapping of shifting densities, tone colors, and rhythmic complexity, or upon extra-musical analogies. Composers such as Xenakis, Boulez and Carter knew this, regardless of their public statements. What they don’t seem to have accepted is that their music is condemned to function on a coarser communicative grid than that of their beloved predecessors up to Bartók, (Kowalski, 2006, 199).
How performers communicate on the horizontal plane through this coarseness needs to be examined. The accusation that “it’s irresponsible…to skirt the issue of how music actually functions for those without perfect pitch and a super-human attention span,” (Kowalski, 2006, 160) is not unreasonable. Berio’s series of solo instrumental compositions under the Sequenza banner are excellent examples of contemporary melodies, especially because at least half of them are for monophonic instruments (see Appendix 1). All the Sequenzas exploit remarkable devices in the creation of the melodic line, often obscuring the compositional method. It is certainly true that “this fascination with working at the limits of perception (and well beyond most listeners' capacities for aural analysis) was a pervasive feature of Berio's work,” (Osmond-Smith, 1991, 56). Sequenza IXb for alto saxophone was written in 1980 and is all but identical to the clarinet version, IXa. The piece provides an ideal springboard into the wider issues of contemporary performance practice, the philosophy of integral serialism, the revisiting of work, aural cognition of contemporary music, the primacy of the voice and historical lineage.
The prescriptive proclivity of contemporary music has vastly increased the demands on performers, as composers give “a wider significance to heterogeneous surface detail,” (Osmond-Smith, 1991, 35). Sequenza IXb features phrases in which there are variable pitches, rhythms, dynamics, tempi and articulations all within a few seconds (example 1 ).
Berio was only too aware that “intelligible communication of the work demands increased accuracy from the transmitter,” (Babbitt, 1958, 1). He himself emphasised the importance of adherence to the score. One historical reason for this escalation in score markings was the Darmstadt school’s early fascination with electronics, in which Berio was fully immersed. Sequenza IX originates from the withdrawn Chemins V for clarinet and electronic system. The capabilities of computers to perform metahuman feats of musical activity led composers to become ever more specific and exigent with their demands on performers. The result of
an incorrectly performed or perceived dynamic value results in destruction of the work's dynamic pattern, but also in false identification of other components of the event (of which this dynamic value is a part) with corresponding components of other events so creating incorrect pitch, registral, timbral, and durational associations. It is this high degree of "determinancy" that most strikingly differentiates such music from, for example, a popular song. A popular song is only very partially determined, since it would appear to retain its germane characteristics under considerable alteration of register, rhythmic texture, dynamics, harmonic structure, timbre, and other qualities, (Babbitt, 1958, 1).
Viewed from this perspective alone, we might logically conclude that the sole aim of contemporary music is accuracy, born of composers’ totalitarian desire for control of every parameter. This is erroneous, firstly, because it is not only contemporary music that holds high expectations of performance standards. Secondly, although to play Berio effectively one must strive to implement every detail as far as possible, more important is the ineffable quality of humanity. Berio was not so didactic as to expect mechanised perfection of his interpreters and indeed advocated “a margin of flexibility in order that the player might have the freedom – psychological rather than musical – to adapt the piece here and there to his technical stature,” (Berio, 1985, 99 cited in Dalmonte). A single glance at the Sequenza IXb score might suggest a computerised approach is necessary, especially with such precise metronome markings, the sempre senza vibrato stipulation and the pauses of specific length, however, by delving deeper we discover a different truth. The instruction at the beginning of the score, ma sempre un poco instabile, then later, trattenuto and tempo molto instabile, suggest a flexibility in phrasing and more lyrical style of playing. There is a historical potency in using Italian terms in music, because unlike English instructions, they immediately recall a rich artistic tradition with all its implications. Bearing in mind Berio’s ethnic origin further strengthens this argument, as for him the terms would have had more meaning than just the lingua franca of scoring.
In the interest of remaining faithful to the score, double dotted rhythms ought to sound snapped to be sure they are not mistaken for single dotted rhythms. Dynamics range from ppp to fff with every possible level in between, yielding eight distinct intensities, which need to be adhered to as strictly as possible. Grace notes play an important role as they are often the only places where we find the primary row overtly stated and should maintain the utmost clarity. At every occurrence, the repeated rhythmic figure (example 2) should sound as though there had always been an imperceptible stream of rapidly repeated notes in the background, like a fragmented version of the Sequenza VI drone.
This illusion of polyphony is crucial to a successful performance of the work because it was one of Berio’s original reasons for writing the Sequenza series.
During the twentieth century, the role of melody reversed:
If previously, as late as Brahms, the theme was generated and conditioned by specific harmonic, rhythmic, and metrical functions, it now becomes itself the generator of analogous functions, and of others besides. It becomes a generative nucleus, a cell made up of a few elements, a regulator of musical processes. The theme in itself has disappeared; it has become fragmented, hidden, though it pervades all the textures, coloring them with its colors: it is everywhere and nowhere at the same time, (Berio, 2006, 140).
Sequenza IXb, it should be stated, is not purely a work of integral serialism. While there are non-pitch-based sets in addition to traditional tone-rows, the piece does not adhere fully to the total serialist principle in the way that Boulez’s Structures (1952) or Stockhausen’s Klavierstucke II (1952) do. Try as they might, “the analyst will often find in Berio’s scores only hints or remnants of a ‘system’ which has in effect been consumed in the process of composition,” (Osmond-Smith, 1991, 9). Such systems might best be termed heightened serialism. Nevertheless, melody needs to be discussed not only in the traditional sense of pitch and rhythm, but as something that encompasses all performance elements, for no component is truly dominant in this piece. Each element’s function is part of the cohesive whole, which forms a meta-melody. The important generative properties of this meta-melody will be considered later.
An in depth analysis of primes and retrograde inversions is neither relevant nor necessary in studying Sequenza IXb, instead what follows is a cursory analytical tour of the piece’s structure that will highlight important harmonic aggregates and contextualise them.
The piece is based on two pitch sets, a seven note row with symmetrical properties and a five note row which together complete the chromatic scale (example 3).
By the third system on the first page the seven note row has emerged from the five and is stated overtly in a flurry of grace notes, it will emerge explicitly a further twenty-five times during the piece. From letter A a new section begins in which each phrase starts and ends on the same note, forming a new pitch series by pausing on these notes for a specified number of seconds each time. Engrafted onto this section is a rhythmic series (example 4) which repeats, with interjections, seven times.
At letter C, the focus turns to registral displacement, beginning with extreme, disjunct intervals which become more contained as this provocative section progresses. The new tempo marking at the top of the third page signals a return to the original seven note row which merges into the swiftly mobile D section. Letter G soon establishes a new series, this time a hexachord (example 5) before returning to the original set.
There is a brief foray into alternative fingerings at letter H which serves as subtle timbral variations rather than the indecorous sonority usually associated with this saxophone technique. A new pitch series closely linked to the original set appears at letter I which is presented at a consistently bold fortissimo. Sequenza IXb’s slow movement can be found from letters J to M, the new section again being signified by the original seven note row in grace note form. At letter P we have the first major occurrence of a sustained high F, which becomes the central harmonic point of reference until the end of the work. Although the piece has no single climax, the first high F of letter R would be a strong contender for such a designation for three reasons. Firstly, it is in the upper register, which Berio has avoided in the immediately preceding material. Secondly it is the loudest point in the piece so far and will be matched in volume only by successive appearances of the same. Finally, it corresponds approximately to that point in musical works where climax is often found, relating to the golden ratio. The repeated high F continues until the last line of the piece with a melody at a different register and dynamic pirouetting underneath the sustained tone to create a tangible sense of polyphony. By letter Y, however, it has been stripped of its dynamic potency as the piece fades away into the ether. What begins as a fine example of serialist craftsmanship metamorphoses into an almost teleological obsession with a single note. The gravitational power of this note is at its strongest at letter V where we see several enclosures of the note at close registral proximity (example 6).
The continual reworking of pitch repertoire in different contexts maintains interest, especially when performed instabile. While there is no paucity of repetition, this serves not to mechanise every musical element, but rather brings elegant cohesion to a deeply intricate work.
Berio’s tendency to revisit the musical past has been well documented. In some cases, he uses material from the established classical canon. The most well known example of this is his use of the Scherzo from Mahler’s Symphony No.2 in the third movement of his Sinfonia. The term work-in-progress has been used to describe some of Berio’s output, although this does not imply mediocrity. Rather, Berio had a habit of revisiting completed works in a refining process, much as one might take cuttings of a healthy plant to breed a new one somewhere else.
It is important to understand that Sequenza IXb originated from Berio’s withdrawn Chemins V for clarinet and electronics. The electronics part for this piece underwent four revisions before it was finally scrapped. The clarinet part remained mostly the same, but it is clear that Berio found significant generative qualities in his original clarinet material, which were realised afresh in the subsequent opera La Vera Storia. Berio’s Sequenzas
are intended to set out and melodically develop an essentially harmonic discourse and to suggest, particularly in the case of the monodic instruments, a polyphonic mode of listening. When I started the series back in 1958, I wasn’t using the term “polyphonic” in any metaphorical sense, as I would now when working with monodic instruments, but literally. I wanted to establish a way of listening so strongly conditioned as to consistently suggest a latent, implicit counterpoint, (Berio, 1985, 97 cited in Dalmonte).
Berio goes on to describe how he drew inspiration from the polyphonic melodies of Bach and wanted to create a comparable language of his own. Interpreters of Bach should be able to hear dormant counterpoint below the audible surface. Likewise, the performer of Berio at least needs to have some sense of the implied harmony that exists beyond the enigmatic written score. It also requires the saxophonist to formulate logical phrasing through obstacles of registral displacement and extreme dynamic oppositions (Example 7).
Yet to omit any detail of dynamic, articulation, rhythm or extended technique fundamentally weakens the impact of the piece. Berio railed against inaccurate performances of his work, claiming that “many players—none of them by any means shining examples of professional integrity—…perpetrate[d] adoptions that were little short of piratical,” (Berio, 1985, 97 cited in Dalmonte).
A patent example of pseudo-polyphony on the saxophone is the multiphonic. Bearing in mind the five note pitch row from which the two multiphonics originate, we find that the score actually provides inaccurate fingerings, disrupting the harmonic field. The onus for finding correct and useable alternatives for these devices lies solely with the saxophonist. Many saxophonists tend to be quite blithe about the use of multiphonics. In jazz their use often seems resigned to the screaming zenith of an extended solo, but for the performer of contemporary classical works the technique requires pertinent and diligent study. Awareness of one’s instrument is as essential here as having an ear for polyphony.
Many of the solo Sequenzas have orchestral equivalents under the aforementioned Chemins title and although the original Chemins V was withdrawn, Berio later constructed Récit (Chemins VII) for alto saxophone and orchestra from Sequenza IXb. We have now considered the full constellation of works to which Sequenza IXb is connected (see Appendix 2).
An important aspect for all performers of Berio’s work, especially with the solo repertoire, is effective communication of an atonal language. With no teleological frame of reference, many performers have to rely on listeners having previously heard the work. It is true that
the perception of harmony as an evolving process can only come about if the ear can clearly distinguish different types of harmonic material—and that in turn demands a wide harmonic palette. Berio's approach to establishing that range was a distinctive one. Like any other composer of his generation, he was compelled to find his own path through the ironies of post-tonal harmony, where a vast range of choice (limited only by the continuing dominance of a twelve-note scale) is regulated by relatively weak syntactic restraints: voice-leading, which in a chromatic context tends to resolve into semi tonal side-steps, and nuances of relative dissonance/consonance, which rapidly lose their differentiating power within a complex harmonic context, (Osmond-Smith, 1991, 36).
The task of the saxophonist in Sequenza IXb is to remain faithful to the composer’s wishes, but also to give the listener some means of understanding the esoteric content. This can be achieved through phrasing, an engaging demeanour, sophisticated stage deportment and above all a sense of empathy with the music. The downside of the virtuosic age is a glut of perfect performances from performers who are emotionally, spiritually and intellectually bereft. In performance, a difficult piece such as Sequenza IXb has to transcend its complex aural framework if it is to be understood by the audience. Brian Ferneyhough, a composer renowned for his complicated music suggests that
perceived complexity is a function of perspective—that is to say, the greater the distance your ‘mental ear’ adopts to [sic] the sonic object, the less ‘complex’ (the more general in effect, the greater the discrepancy between contributory detail and overall image) that object is perceived to be. The converse is also true: force the ear into the interstices of even a single sustained pitch and it begins to distinguish all sorts of extremely subtle secondary activity, (Ferneyhough, 1992, 151-2 cited in Ford).
Throughout its fourteen minute duration, the angularity and dissonance must submit to the effective transmission of art. Great performers awaken our ears not through aural tests for the audience, such activity would be ridiculous, but through honest and impassioned performances. Good performances may be free of error and elicit polite applause, but great performances leave a previously sceptical audience transformed, instilling in them a passion for the music.
It is a moot point as to how much foreknowledge audiences should be expected to have when listening to contemporary music. Berio himself heard music from the canon in much the same way as he heard the music of peers like Pousseur and Maderna. He described perceiving whole Beethoven symphonies not in Schenkerian terms, but rather as single sonorities, even pitch fields. Cynics might accuse Berio of impertinently trying to justify his own unlistenable dross with an uncouth and illogical comparison to more established masters’ works. This exaggerated, though not wholly unfamiliar point of view, betrays the ignorance and closed-mindedness that constitutes musical bigotry. Performers would actually do well to imitate Berio’s practice of listening to music cohesively, desisting the desire for climax.
Chemins V, the clarinet and electronics antecedent of Sequenza IXb was originally “conceived as a study on vowels,” (Cremaschi, 2006, 159). When Berio was composing this piece he began by examining the spectral construction of vowel sounds from Italian, English and French. The vowels yielded sonorities similar to the main pitch row from which Berio based his piece. How far the harmony is derived from other non-phonetic investigation is a matter of contention, but certainly Berio’s interest in phonemes deeply influenced Sequenza IXb. The role of phonetics naturally suggests a connection with one of Berio’s most famous works, the Sequenza III for female voice. Here we find words, syllables and phonemes, this time from a set text reconstructed in a visceral timbral array, where the morphological possibilities of vowel sounds are thoroughly explored. A diluted form of this concept can be found in Sequenza IXb, where alternative fingerings are rhythmically applied to a single pitch (example 8).
When one performs Sequenza IXb, the goal of making instruments sound like the human voice is an important, if clichéd axiom to consider. Although nowhere is there a performance direction that explicitly instructs us to play lyrically, dolce or espressivo, a knowledge of Berio and his oeuvre will guide us inexorably in this direction. As an Italian composer, Berio directly inherited the rich Italian operatic tradition that had so great an influence on all subsequent Western Art Music. The simple fact that even today many composers use Italian terms, unavoidably imbues contemporary music scores with a sense of history. To a seventeenth century singer or musician terms such as trattenuto, ritardando, even piano had certain qualities beyond their basic didacticism. The issue is really one of character, stylisation and emotional depth. The saxophone has often been described as the instrument closest to the human voice, and while some performers have rebelled against this designation, the fact is that vocal qualities are inherently possible from the instrument. Obviously a major obstacle to traditional lyrical playing in this piece is the uncompromising senza vibrato instruction. The saxophonist must find a manner of executing the melodically treacherous lines without sounding bland or robotic. The instabile marking allows for some manipulation with rubato, although an über-Romantic gush of metric ebb and flow is hardly an appropriate solution. Better would be a rhythmically accurate performance that nonetheless does not become a slave to pulse. Subtle use of dynamic gradations is possible to highlight crucial notes in the phrases, although the written instructions must be adhered to as far as possible. Daring performers may even seek to change certain written parts of the score but should ensure they remain interpreters not usurpers.
Berio recognised the power of the voice, not only through singing, but through the spoken word. A large number of pieces require spoken passages either from singers or instrumentalists. This ranges from Grock the clown’s poignant “Why?” in Sequenza V for trombone, to the multilingual tapestry that constitutes Coro for voices and instruments. Near the end of his life, Berio’s friend the poet Edoardo Sanguinetti wrote short verses for all the Sequenza pieces which at Berio’s own suggestion can be orated before performances of the works . The contrast prepares us for a piece that is fundamentally an extended discourse on melody.
Berio’s music generally exhibits lighter dissonances than that of other twentieth century composers such as Xenakis and Stockhausen. Rarely do we come across microtonality or other dense systems of dissonance. Although the dissonance can be disturbing at times, it does not have that heaviness or apocalyptic sense of doom we find in Xenakis’ Metastasis, for example. This is because “where some contemporaries seemed content to treat harmony as simply a sub-category of “texture,” Berio insistently returned to the harmonic dimension as central to his larger musical aspirations,” (Osmond-Smith, 2003, 1). Even in the more chaotic passages of Sinfonia, Berio never sounds like he is multitracking horror film soundtracks. While severe dissonance is a reasonable response to a century of interminable war and suffering, sometimes music needs to reflect a less pessimistic perspective on humankind. When Berio was conscripted into the army as a young man, he suffered a hand injury that resulted in the immediate end to his career as a pianist. A lesser man might have permanently abandoned music, but he instead persevered with a new focus on composition. Berio carved a cutting edge path where he
constantly re-invented continuities where others saw only the possibilities of rupture. Not that he was ever tempted by the assorted nostalgias that haunted some part of the music of the last century. On the contrary, he maintained an insatiable curiosity about the explorations of his contemporaries – musical or otherwise, (Osmond-Smith, 2003, 1).
An indication of this tendency can be found in his use of established forms such as Sinfonia, Sonata, and Suite. Obviously the Sequenza series of compositions are an exception but despite lacking a traditional name, they draw on elements commonly found in the classical lineage.
As an Italian composer, Berio was familiar with the great Italian operatic tradition and doubtless knew the works of Rossini, Verdi and Puccini . Although Berio’s own operas did not meet with great critical acclaim, his knowledge of the canon brought success to many other vocal works. Berio clearly felt a need to return home after his extended sojourning on foreign soil. For him, it was never enough to be part of the foreign IRCAM organisation, he wanted to create an Italian studio. Thus in 1987 the Florentine Tempo Reale institute was founded, which survives today, fulfilling the role his earlier Studio di Fonologia could not.
One reason for the relative accessibility of Berio’s melodies was his position in the global musical village. Berio belonged to the first generation of composers who were easily able to visit the world far beyond their home borders. Berio’s grandfather, although himself a relatively successful musician, had rarely left the confines of the Ligurian borders. His grandson’s “lack of roots within any given cultural milieu certainly served to entrench his ‘omnivorous’ curiosity and openness,” (Osmond-Smith, 1991, p.29). The fact that at the age of twenty-six, Berio could move thousands of miles away to study in Tanglewood, Massachusetts shows how quickly the world was shrinking at this time. Later in his life Berio would crucially visit Darmstadt and return to the US, this time to California. What is interesting about Berio is the balance his life seems to have had. While he can be truly described as an international composer both in his personal experience and in the substance of his output, he never lost his Italian roots. Similarly, Berio was one of music’s “great rememberers,” (Griffiths in Whittall, 1999, 300) who somehow had the ability to be at once rooted in history and at the cutting edge of contemporary music. If we are to interpret Sequenza IXb in a way befitting of its composer, we must have an attitude that is global, contemporary, but also historically informed and culturally sensitive.
Critics who suggest Sequenza IXb is somehow inferior to IXa need only look to the reworking of the source material in La Vera Storia where we find the melody shared by both clarinet and saxophone, suggesting Berio was convinced by both versions. This could be seen as a transitory stage where we find both instruments sharing, even fighting over, the material. We should then consider the case of Récit for alto saxophone and orchestra, or rather note the lack of any related clarinet works. What began as a clarinet and electronics experiment has become the glad possession of saxophonists worldwide. The fact that IXb was written only one year after its predecessor, as opposed to the seventeen year gap there is between the oboe and soprano saxophone Sequenza VII, also suggests that the alto saxophone was no mere afterthought for Berio.
Performers must be able to draw out the central themes of instability and motion of this piece. They also need to comprehend the twofold function of the melody, firstly as instrumental showcase and secondly as harmonic discourse. The piece is complicated and “like many of the other Sequenzas, [is] as much an étude in a particular compositional problem as it is in particular instrumental techniques,” (Osmond-Smith, 1991, 39).
In a society which perpetually seems risks cultural bankruptcy, we must question what place and relevance the music of a deceased eccentric Italian has to us. Today’s generation must choose whether to bring this music to a wider audience or to continue playing for enthusiasts with a penchant for the unusual. It is doubtful whether many performers of Berio’s work fully grasp the sheer intellectual brilliance of the man. Unless performers begin to take more than a passing interest in composers, performances will continue to be uninformed and apathetic. Well rehearsed and technically accurate certainly, but lacking in emotional and intellectual maturity. Sequenza IXb utilises multiple tone rows, complex rhythmic permutations, extreme contrasts in dynamic and abnormal articulation yet has that peculiar sensibility that elevates work beyond the mundane to a higher emotional plateau. Finding the correct tone, manner and sensibility with which to perform this work is a greater goal than technical execution.
Sequenza IXb is a distilled and purified piece of music, stripped of nonessential improvisation, electronics or other manifestations of polyphony. In a sense, Sequenza IXb is a concise narrative of melody in its purest form, elevated, refined and perfected. It is unique in Berio’s repertoire because instead of the usual musical commentary and proliferation to which he was so prone, we find here a piece so refined that every note is saturated in meaning. If these words sound somewhat aloof, then let us return to the architect himself, who said that
the best solo performers of our time – modern in intelligence, sensibility, and technique – are those who are capable of acting within a wide historical perspective, and of resolving the tensions between the creative demands of past and present, employing their instruments as means of research and expression, (Berio, 1998, 1).
Lofty words indeed, from one of contemporary music’s few confirmed heavyweights. Ultimately, Berio saw musical works as vehicles of knowledge and considered intellectual virtuosity to be crucial, but recognised that the key to successful music-making lies in artists’ emotional maturity.
Appendix 1
List of Sequenzas:
Title Instrument Year
Sequenza I Flute 1958
Sequenza II Harp 1963
Sequenza III Female Voice 1965
Sequenza IV Piano 1966
Sequenza V Trombone 1965
Sequenza VI Viola 1967
Sequenza VIIa Oboe 1969
Sequenza VIIb Soprano Saxophone 1993
Sequenza VIII Violin 1976
Sequenza IXa Clarinet 1980
Sequenza IXb Alto Saxophone 1981
Sequenza X Trumpet in C and piano resonance 1984
Sequenza XI Guitar 1987-8
Sequenza XII Bassoon 1995
Sequenza XIII Accordion “Chanson” 1995
Sequenza XIV Violoncello 2002
Appendix 2
The following diagram is taken from Cremaschi’s essay (2006, 167) on Sequenza IX, and serves to elucidate my own observations in a more succinct way.
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