Perspectives of New Music Perspectives of New Music

Static Structure, Dynamic Form: An Analysis of Elliott Carter's Concerto for Orchestra
Author(s): Klaas Coulembier

Source: Perspectives of New Music, Vol. 54, No. 1 (Winter 2016), pp. 97-136
Published by: Perspectives of New Music
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STATIC STRUCTURE, DYNAMIC FORM:
AN ANALYSIS OF ELLIOTT CARTER’S
CONCERTO FOR ORCHESTRA
KLAAS COULEMBIER
INTRODUCTION
’ is one of his most

E LLIOTT CARTER S CONCERTO FOR ORCHESTRA
intriguing, complex, and fascinating compositions. It is a tour de
force in the organization and arrangement of different musical materials,
in the domains of both pitch and rhythm. Several authors have expressed
their admiration for the composition, while acknowledging that it is
very difficult to penetrate. In 1989, David Harvey opened his chapter
on Carter’s Concerto for Orchestra with the following statement:
The Concerto for Orchestra is Carter’s richest and most complex

work to date in every respect. A complete account of its material,
techniques, and their realisation in the textures of the work is
beyond the scope of the present study; indeed, it may be doubted
that such a project is at all feasible, given the size of the work, the
density of the orchestral writing, the richness of the harmonic
elaborations generated by Carter’s intervallic techniques of com-
position, and the limitations of analysis at the present time.1
98 Perspectives of New Music
That this work is attractive to analysts is beyond question; the

trepidation with which they have approached is, however, not only the
result of its multi-layered musical surface, but also, no doubt, stems
from the startling number of sketches Carter generated in producing
it, conveying the impression that the construction of the composition
may be even more puzzling than its form. Nevertheless, to gain a
deeper insight into the workings of this music, the sketches appear to
be as necessary as they are daunting. Jonathan Bernard concluded his
1983 article in Music Analysis with the remark that it would be
impossible to make a fully comprehensive analysis of this composition.
Dealing with the huge expanses of Carter’s scores . . . is still not

easy. To retrace the steps of a composer who produces thousands
of pages of sketches and works for thousands of hours in the
course of writing a piece is likely to be a formidable undertaking,
to say the least. . . . The prospect of reading, much less writing, a
so-called “complete analysis” carried out according to the meth-
ods presented here is truly fearsome to contemplate. Eventually,
perhaps, someone will have a bright idea that will make everything
seem much simpler. Until then we can only have faith in the
music, continue to analyse, and hope for the best.2
Rather than try to be that person with the bright idea, I want to
contribute to the understanding of this composition by focusing on its
overall temporal and dramatic organization. Therefore, in dealing with
the more than 3000 pages of sketches that I studied during a week-
long stay at the Paul Sacher Foundation, I have kept my focus here
exclusively on rhythmic sketches and temporal calculations. In that
respect the following analysis complements existing literature in which
pitch organization has often been the focal point. Despite the depend-
ence on sketches, this analysis is not aimed at a mere reconstruction of
the compositional process.3 By revealing the intricate relation between
the rigid and static background structures and their more supple and
subtle surface manifestations, this analysis tries to show which strategies
and methods Carter applied to achieve such a compelling dramatic and
dynamic musical discourse.
THE CONCERTO FOR ORCHESTRA IN LITERATURE: AN OVERVIEW
Apart from a chapter in David Harvey’s dissertation,4 there are no

exhaustive, start-to-finish analyses of the Concerto for Orchestra.
Static Structure, Dynamic Form 99
David Schiff gives a comprehensible overview of the composition in

The Music of Elliott Carter.5 Jonathan Bernard has returned to the
composition on several occasions, dealing with pitch structures in his
article on “spatial sets,”6 or with the relationship between the literary
source of the composition in “Poem as Non-Verbal Text.”7 Several pub-
lications of the Paul Sacher Foundation also include descriptions of the
composition’s elaborate sketch resources available in their collection.8
Scholarly literature on Carter’s music in general has regained new
energy in the last decade, particularly since the composer’s centennial
celebration in 2008. Recent publications often consolidate important
studies (such as Jonathan Bernard’s work on the early compositions, 9
John Link’s systematic approach to large-scale polyrhythms, 10 or
Andrew Mead’s studies of tempo relations11) while at the same time
exploring new territories. Carter’s use of literary sources has been well
discussed in a variety of articles by Brenda Ravenscroft and Jonathan
Bernard (et al.).12 One of the most recent contributions to the grow-
ing body of Carter literature is the substantial collection of essays
edited by Marguerite Boland and John Link, covering both early and
later music, with contributions of Carter specialists from both sides of
the Atlantic.13 In such recent publications, the Concerto for Orchestra
is often touched upon as a cornerstone in the evolution of Carter’s
practice in the 1960s, prefiguring aspects of his style and technique to
be found in later compositions. Despite the proliferating body of litera-
ture, the most recent in-depth studies of the composition are Rosário
Santana’s article in Ex Tempore (1998)14 and Larson Powell’s essay in
the book series New Music and Aesthetics in the 21st Century (2002).15
Santana selects passages from the Double Concerto and the Concerto
for Orchestra to illustrate Carter’s rhythmic language of the 1960s in
relation to musical discourse. In her analysis of the Concerto for
Orchestra, she distinguishes four different characters in terms of musical
time, based on Schiff’s observations in The Music of Elliott Carter.
Movement I is characterized by a rubato and accelerando motion,
while the rhythmic profile of Movement II is metronomic with ritar-
dando. The third movement combines rubato with accelerando, and
Movement IV is conceived as metronomic with accelerando. The
presence of a large-scale polyrhythm is mentioned as well, probably
relying in part on the chapter on the Concerto for Orchestra in David
Schiff ’s monograph. Santana writes—without further explanation—
that: “The important points of change in these polyrhythms appear in
bars 141, 284, 488, and 550.” In David Schiff this reads: “The
structural pulses nearly coincide at the four climactic turning points
(bars 141, 284, 488, 550) where the large movements begin.”
Although these places in the score are undoubtedly important, and are
indeed characterized by climaxes, they do not all align with the
structural polyrhythm, as will be shown in the analysis below. David
Schiff (and Santana in his wake) may have been a little too quick to
relate structure and form, as matters are more complicated than they
may appear.16 Santana further provides a descriptive overview of the
entire composition (except for the coda), highlighting important
passages where interesting rhythmic aspects are shown. The focus is on
local polyrhythms and metric superposition, though aspects such as
dynamics and phrasing are mentioned as well.
Powell’s main aim then is to look at how Carter’s characters/
movements function, both in their own right and in the larger form of
the composition. Most convincing in his analysis are the attempts at an
interpretation of the work (which also make it a true analysis, though
not extensively substantiated on the musical-technical side). The obser-
vation, for instance, that passages of extreme violence around the
pivotal points in the composition (the transitions between movements)
are very close to noise, and that noise is the only means to mediate
between the different characters distinguished, offers a convincing
approach to the overall dramatic structure of the composition. In
Powell’s words:
For if character is so absolute as to usurp the place of language,

what common ground or meeting place could there be between
characters except violent disorder, the Hobbesian bellum omnium
contra omnes of society reduced to a state of nature?17
Despite the various analytical observations in the extensive literature

on Carter’s music in general, and on this piece in particular, some
important elements have not yet received the attention they deserve. In
particular, the exact correlation between the structural polyrhythm and
the form of the composition, and the organization of the coda, have
remained rather blurry.
LARGE-SCALE POLYRHYTHM AND FORM
The Concerto for Orchestra consists of four movements framed by an

introduction and a coda. According to Carter’s own statements about
the composition, the four movements are simultaneously present from
beginning to end, sometimes materialized at the musical surface and
sometimes lurking inaudibly in the background.18 Each movement is
linked with an orchestral group and has a specific harmonic and tem-
poral “identity.” In existing scholarship, the identification of the
movements is subject to confusion. In the preface to the score, Carter
does not enumerate them in the order of appearance, but in terms of
register, from high to low. In the sketches, he uses the letters A, B, C,
and D to refer to the different movements.19 When David Schiff
discusses the composition in his book The Music of Elliott Carter, he
assigns the same letters to different movements.20 I shall refer to them
as movements I, II, III, and IV. Example 1 consolidates the preceding
information.
The exact beginnings and endings of movements are also unclear,
since different sources indicate different segmentations of the musical
form. Example 2 collates these different readings.
While the equal importance of time and pitch in the music of Elliott
Carter is often emphasized,21 most existing analyses of the Concerto
for Orchestra tend to focus on the harmonic challenges it presents. As
far as temporality is concerned, several scholars mention Carter’s use of
a structural polyrhythm of 10:9:8:7, although they fail to elucidate how
that polyrhythm shapes the form exactly. The general mathematical
implications of Carter’s technique of working with structural, long-
range, or large-scale polyrhythms have been illuminatingly discussed by
Craig Weston, John Link, and Andrew Mead. 22 The systematic nature
of their approaches is particularly relevant to Carter’s compositions
from the late 1980s, which mostly feature polyrhythms with two
“limbs,” to use Mead’s terminology. These limbs are normally based
on numbers that are mutually prime; i.e., share no common divisors
(such as 84:85, 21:25, 65:69, . . .). Since Carter’s use of large-scale
polyrhythm in the Concerto for Orchestra is quite different from later
examples (four rather than two pulse streams, proportions that include
small numbers and common denominators, etc.), such theories are less
applicable in the context of the analysis presented here, although I will
adhere to their terminological preferences when useful.
Rather than applying the well-established conceptualization of large-
scale polyrhythms as Carter used them in the 1980s to this compo-
sition from the late 1960s, I will search for sources in Carter’s earlier
practice. It is well known how ideas of multiplicity and simultaneity
were predominant in Carter’s musical practice from 1948 onwards,
when his Cello Sonata marked a new period in his creative activities.23
Throughout his music in the 1950s and later, there is a clear shift from
predominantly successive tempo relationships to a more simultaneous
use of different rhythms and speeds.24
Initially a local phenomenon, Carter’s hallmark tool of metric modu-
lation gained structural importance, even functional use as an overall
labels
according to
mvt. register intervals instruments Carter Schiff
min. 6
piano, harp, cellos,
I medium-low maj. 6 B C
wood percussion
maj. 7
min. 3
piccolos, flute, violins,
II high perf. 5 D A
metallic percussion
min. 7
min. 7
tuba, basses, timpani,
III low min. 9 A D
bass drum
perf. 4
maj. 2
clarinets, trumpets,
IV medium-high min. 3 C B
violas, snare drums
aug. 4
EXAMPLE 1: OVERVIEW OF THE FOUR MOVEMENTS (DEFINED BY REGISTER,

INTERVALS, AND INSTRUMENTATION) AND THEIR DIFFERENT LABELS
measures according to
Music and the handwritten
movement the score Time Screen chart in sketches
Introduction 1–15 (1–23) 1–10
I (B) 16–141 24–140 24–140
II (D) 142–286 141–285 141–285
III (A) 287–419 286–419 287–419
IV (C) 420–517 420–532 420–532
Coda 518–600 532–600 533–619
EXAMPLE 2: OVERVIEW OF THE INTRODUCTION, FOUR MOVEMENTS, AND

CODA WITH THEIR DIFFERENT DEMARCATIONS
regulating device, in the Second String Quartet. In the 1960s he devel-

oped another compositional technique to shape and control the large-
scale discourse of the music. The introduction and coda of the Double
Concerto are each composed from a sort of elaborate polyrhythm that
acts as a multiple metrical framework for a certain time-span. Several
pulse streams with different speeds are heard simultaneously and reach
points of convergence at strategic places in the score. These gradual
developments suggest that the structural or large-scale polyrhythm in
the Concerto for Orchestra should not merely be seen as a top-down
organizational device in which local (poly)rhythms are derived from
the overarching structure.25 While the organization of simultaneous time
layers by means of large-scale polyrhythms is clearly part of that pre-
compositional phase, Carter essentially developed the whole technique
from local ideas at the musical surface. In the sketches, most references
to the four-part large-scale polyrhythm appear in connection with local
rhythmical gestures. Carter sketched numerous tables with the numbers
10, 9, 8, and 7 and all kinds of mathematical operations with these
proportions. One example, dated 2 February 1968, is transcribed in
Example 3.
EXAMPLE 3: TRANSCRIPTION FROM THE SKETCHES (MF 238-0098)26
This page provides a better insight into the way in which Carter
approached the structural polyrhythm. A first striking aspect of the
sketch is the tempo indication of q = 63. This tempo is only found
twice in the entire score (m. 135 and m. 496), so its importance must
lie elsewhere. After careful consideration of the sketches in combination
with the score, we can see how Carter uses a virtual tempo of 63 bpm
to create the large-scale structure of 10:9:8:7. In John Link’s terms,
this would be the pulse grid tempo, and Andrew Mead would indicate
the distance between two consecutive pulses at this tempo as a time-
span unit.27 Throughout the composition, the proportions of 10:9:8:7
are projected upon this virtual pulse of 63 bpm. 28 A total duration of
about twenty minutes yields 1260 “basic pulses” at 63 bpm, which can
be divided in 10, 9, 8, and 7 structural pulses. The resulting metro-
nomic speeds of the four layers of the polyrhythm are 9, 7.875, 7, and
6.3 bpm.
In existing analytical literature, this crucial virtual tempo of 63 bpm
is never mentioned, although it is an indispensable key to the connec-
tion between Carter’s polyrhythmic structure and the realized musical
form. Only this tempo of 63 enables a quantification (and a verifi-
cation) of Carter’s procedure of arranging the four movements both
successively and simultaneously.
It is important to keep in mind that there are some inaccuracies in
Carter’s working out of the connection between the background pulse
grid and the metric surface of the Concerto for Orchestra. In the
sketches,29 Carter indicates that in common time, and at a tempo of
q = 84, there are three basic pulses in each measure (84/4 = 63/3).
Later, he makes a linear representation of the metric structure of the
composition, adding the basic pulses as an extra layer.30 In a first
version, both the real metric structure (at 84 bpm) and the pulse grid
(at 63 bpm) start at point zero, the beginning of the composition.
Carter then crossed out the basic pulse numbers and started again, this
time positioning basic pulse 0 one quarter-note before measure 5.
According to this scheme, the beginning of measure 17 coincides with
basic pulse number 48, and the beginning of measure 18 would
coincide with number 51 (three basic pulses in a measure). Instead of
51, Carter wrote 57, a handwriting error that was never corrected and
was reproduced in all subsequent steps of the composition process. We
have no complete chart to verify whether Carter made other similar
errors, but there are some isolated markings that unambiguously link
basic pulses with a specific measure. One page in the sketches, for
instance, marks basic pulse 1054 at measure 474. If we map the
ensuing basic pulses onto the score, basic pulse 1260 occurs right after
MAPPED ONTO THE STRUCTURAL POLYRHYTHM

4: THE CONCERTO FOR ORCHESTRA
EXAMPLE
the end of the last measure of the composition. This means that from
measure 474 onwards, the link between the structural polyrhythm and
the notated music is clear.
Now that the exact speeds of the four layers of the structural poly-
rhythm have been identified, the question remains how this structural
polyrhythm shapes the musical form. Mapping the structural polyrhythm
onto the movements of the composition reveals how transitions
between movements occur at structurally important places. Movement
II (Layer D) starts at a point of near-coincidence between Layers B
and D, and ends at the exact midpoint of the structural polyrhythm.
This midpoint is also articulated in Layer A, linked to Movement III,
which starts there. The juxtaposition of the highest instruments of
Movement II and the lower section of the orchestra in Movement III
has a very dramatic effect, a leap into the abyss in the middle of the
composition.31 Movement IV (Layer C) begins between two adjacent
pulses of the A and C layers and leads into the coda around the very
last pulse before the exact coincidence that closes the circle.32 The
preceding is illustrated in Example 4.
SUBDIVISIONS OF THE LARGE-SCALE POLYRHYTHM
The essential feature of this work is not the succession but rather the
simultaneity of the four movements. While one movement is sounding,
the others are latently present, coming to the surface from time to
time.33 Elliott Carter even gave us the key to this intricate form-con-
cept by including the exact places where one movement penetrates
another in his sketches.34 Combining the polyrhythmic structure with
the measure numbers indicated by Carter, we can see how the appear-
ances of each movement are positioned at or around the structural
pulses of its particular layer of the polyrhythm, so every structural pulse
in each layer triggers an appearance of its respective movement.35
While the above-mentioned strategy is rigidly applied throughout
the Concerto for Orchestra, the first movement already contains more
appearances of other movements than there are structural pulses in their
assigned layers. Carter not only indicates so-called “long waves” in the
sketches, referring to the periodic pulses of the structural polyrhythm,
but also uses “short waves” at a higher speed.36 At the outset, these
short waves are propagating at ten times the speed of the structural poly-
rhythm. If we add these short waves or subdivisions of the structural
polyrhythm to the figure, we get the result found in Example 5.
5: “SHORT WAVES,” OR SUBDIVISIONS OF THE STRUCTURAL POLYRHYTHM

EXAMPLE
We can see how all layers reach a point of coincidence at pulse 126.
This replicates the structural polyrhythm (10:9:8:7) over a span one
tenth of its original duration. The resulting pulses now define where
extra appearances of a movement’s material can occur. If we mapped
this scheme to the score, however, we would see that the actual
appearances tend to approximate the pulse locations, rather than
exactly articulating them.37
Another use of short waves is found between pulses D5 and D6.
Carter divides this timespan into no less than 40 equal parts. At basic
pulse 504, this timeline starts with point 1, the second point comes
after 3.15 basic pulses. That is:
126
= 3.15
40
Combining this theoretical periodicity with the score, we see that

from measures 233 (basic pulse 504) to 254, these “secondary pulses” at
20 bpm mostly coincide with the duration of one measure (4/4 at q =
80). The transition from measure 238 to 239 in particular is very impor-
tant in order to understand how Carter uses his structural polyrhythm,
and how we should see the relation between structure and form.
When mapping the basic pulses of the overarching structural
polyrhythm onto the printed score, a problem arises at measure 239.
Up to that point, the virtual pulse grid at 63 bpm had always been
congruent with the notated tempi and meters, despite the many tempo
changes. The last clear-cut coincidence was basic pulse 504 at the first
beat of m. 233. The first beat of m. 239 is at basic pulse 516.6.
Furthermore, the new tempo of q = 80 is very hard to link with 63
bpm, since 63 and 80 are mutually prime. See Example 6.
The 40-step short wave between structural pulses D5 and D6
explains the tempo of 80 bpm. Carter abandons the metric structure in
which there is a basic pulse at every tenth septuplet sixteenth note and
opts for a metric structure that aligns itself with the local secondary
basic pulse at 20 bpm. By altering the underlying basic pulse, he builds
up tension towards the center of his composition, the midpoint of the
structural polyrhythm. The internal shape of the polyrhythmic cycle
already produces a relatively quick succession of different materials here,
to which he adds an extra (at least virtual) pulse layer. From this, we
can conclude not only that Carter uses the same—or similar—propor-
tions on different levels (large-scale structure to local rhythm), but also
observe that one level can take priority over another, even if that means
that the overarching structure can no longer be accurately articulated.
63 BPM
AND SECONDARY BASIC PULSE AT 20 BPM
6: MM. 233–241, PICCOLO 3
WITH INDICATIONS OF BASIC PULSE AT
EXAMPLE
EXAMPLE 7: DIFFERENT BEAT DIVISIONS IN MEASURE 12
EXAMPLE 8: PROPORTIONS OF STRUCTURAL POLYRHYTHM AT LOCAL LEVEL
As shown by the sketch transcribed in Example 3, the same rhythmic

proportions that govern long and short waves can also occur as local
polyrhythms, creating a strong connection between structure and form
once again. The dialogue between different levels of temporality is
important here, and Carter clearly defined his large-scale proportions
on the basis of their possible realization at different temporal levels. 38
He first applies such a local polyrhythmic superposition as a demarca-
tion point around the beginning of Movement I. In measures 12 and
13, he combines four different divisions of the beat.39 The woodwinds
play in quintuplets, the piano and xylophone in septuplets. Sixteenth
notes (grouped in threes and thus written as dotted eighth notes) are
mostly found in the low strings and first violins, and eighth note triplets
are played by the trumpets and the second violins. The written tempo
in these measures is q = 84. Positioned right before the beginning of
the Movement I, these measures are both the culmination of the intro-
duction and the kernel of the large-scale structure. See Example 7.
If we align the accents, the connection with the structural poly-
rhythm becomes apparent. Furthermore, the assignment of the
numbers 10, 9, 8 and 7 to the sections of the orchestra is consistent
with the number of structural pulses and the orchestration of the
respective movements. (See Example 8 and compare with Example 4.)
TEMPO AS A STRUCTURAL DEVICE
In addition to the polyrhythmic structure, which defines the music

from the longest to the shortest temporal level, Carter also uses care-
fully selected surface tempi throughout the composition. A number of
these tempo marks also originate from the polyrhythm in measures 12
to 14. The pulse speed of 126 bpm, created by triplets in the trumpet
and violin parts, persists beyond the change of time signature in mea-
sure 14 (the beginning of the first movement). It functions here as a
kind of marker announcing the entrance of the piano, the protagonist
in Movement I, in measure 16. The same pulse speed appears as a
tempo mark at the beginning of Movement II (mm. 142–145), prefig-
ured one measure earlier as a steady pulse of dotted eighth notes in the
strings. If we also take the speed of 63 bpm into account, this tempo is
anticipated even earlier, in measures 135 and 136 (extended to mea-
sure 140 in the piano part). The same metronome mark is found from
measure 484 to 487 as well (extended to m. 501 if all 3/4 measures
were to be rewritten as 6/8), when the instruments of Movement IV
are put to silence by an interruption of first-movement material. The
tempo mark of 126 bpm returns one last time in measure 502 (up to
m. 514), at the very end of Movement IV.
The periodic trumpet motif from measure 14 returns right before

the theoretical midpoint of the piece (the 630th basic pulse in measure
287), which is also the beginning of the third movement. Unlike what
we would expect from Carter, the pulse speed in these measures is not
the same as it was in measures 14 and 15; only the rhythmic
appearance is. In this instance the pulses occur at a speed of 144 bpm
in the trombone part.40 This speed will return as a metronome mark
from measure 309 to 320 (during Movement III), a passage roughly
coinciding with the sixth point in the cycle of Movement IV (C6), and
the respective interruption of Movement III by material from
Movement IV (played by violas, clarinets, and oboes, and from measure
312 onwards, also trumpets). The same metronome mark of 144 (or
equivalents with an absolute speed of e = 288) defines the transition
from Movement III to Movement IV starting in measure 420 (around
the 945th basic pulse, the seventh point in the cycle of Movement III
[A7]). Once again, the trumpets have a signaling function, articulating
the beat of 144 bpm from measure 419 to 421. The tempo then
reoccurs three more times during Movement IV: in the beginning
(mm. 420–425), around the eighth structural C-pulse (at the 980th
basic pulse mm. 432–440) and after the inclusion of material from
Movement II (mm. 455–460).
Finally, the tempo of 112 bpm as expressed in measure 12 by the
dotted eighth notes in the violins, instruments of Movement II, also
returns at significant moments. First from measures 41 to 47, a passage
that includes the 126th basic pulse in measure 45, it marks the second
structural pulse connected with Movement II (D2). During these
measures, the material of Movement II makes an appearance: starting
hesitantly in measure 43, a stream of rapid notes emerges in sixteenth
note quintuplets (pulse speed of 560 bpm) in the high woodwinds and
violins. This short outburst is the first and most recognizable pre-
figuration of the texture that will launch Movement II in measure 142.
Throughout the coda there is a constant absolute tempo of e = 336,
translated into different metronome marks, one of which is q k = 112.
The true culmination of this network of tempo relations, however, is
saved for the very end of the composition. The last seven measures of
the composition form a polyrhythm, not expressing an exact 10:9:8:7
ratio, as one might expect, but resulting in a superposition of the
following speeds: 72 (144), 126, 112, 100.8. Furthermore, Elliott
Carter sketched this passage with an indication of movements and their
corresponding pulse speeds. The transcription of this page is found in
Example 9, with my own calculations at the end of each line.
9: TRANSCRIPTION FROM THE SKETCHES (MF 240-0805)

CORRESPONDING WITH THE LAST MEASURES OF THE COMPOSITION
EXAMPLE
Expressed as factors of a sixteenth-note sextuplet, and given the

written tempo of q = 168, the proportions look more familiar:
168×6 168×6 168×6 168×6

10 : 9 : 8 : 14
By bringing the numbers 10, 9, 8, and 14 (or 7) to the denominator,

the bigger numbers now provide slower speeds. The assignment of
movements to each speed shows that Carter maintains the same pro-
portional order between movements as in the structural polyrhythm,
Layer D being the fastest and Layer B being the slowest.
PREPARATION—FRAMING—DRAMATURGY
The distribution of material according to as highly a periodical and sym-

metrical scheme as a structural polyrhythm could easily lead to a static
or even algorithmic composition. Carter, however, is not interested in
static music, but strives for movement, dynamic flow, and musical dis-
course.41 Therefore, the process within each movement is as important
as the alternation between movements. David Harvey has shown how
Carter realized gradual accelerandos and ritardandos throughout the
four movements, creating connections between the isolated instances
of each movement.42 In addition to these overarching and unifying
processes, Carter carefully prepares important musical events. A clear
example is the appearance of Movement III material in the course of
Movement II (structural pulse A4 in m. 218). The strings and wood-
winds play the “surface upbeat” to this point, but the real preparation
basses play a low Eb which seems unconnected to the other musical

for the entrance of Movement III starts right back in measure 179. The
material in that passage. If we follow the basses from measure 179 to

measure 218, we can see that there are more such solitary sounds. When
combined, they form an accelerating pattern as shown in Example 10.
In addition to such carefully planned and subtle preparations, Carter
also uses strong indicators to frame movements.
After the transition from the introduction to Movement I, the piano
takes the lead, surrounded by seemingly random attacks in the entire
orchestra. These attacks belong to four different strands of periodic
pulses, loosely referring to the structural polyrhythm. The exact pulse
speeds are 28 bpm (3 quarter notes or 9 triplet eighth notes), 26.25
bpm (16 quintuplet sixteenth notes or 8 quintuplet eighth notes),
25.2 bpm (10 triplet eighth notes) and 24 bpm (7 eighth notes). Only
distance from previous entry
Eb
measure pitch (measured in sixteenth notes)
179
189 C 79.66 (triplet in m. 179)
196 D 57
202 F 45
Bb
206 G 36
210 30
C# / D
213 E 21
Bb / B / C / C#
215 15
D / Eb / E / F / Gb 9
216 12
A / B / C / C# / D
217
218 6
EXAMPLE 10: ACCELERATING PATTERN PREPARING THE APPEARANCE OF

MOVEMENT III DURING MOVEMENT II (MM. 179–218)
a few attacks do not belong to these layers. They form a written-out

rallentando merging with the 28 bpm layer. These four pulse layers
reach a point of coincidence at the first beat of measure 23, after which
the piano is left playing more or less solo. A rhythmic reduction of
measures 13 to 23 is given in Example 11.
In fact, this passage is the first presentation of music that is
recognizable as material from Movement I (Layer B): the piano plays
its characteristic septuplets, combined with harp and marimba.43 The
combination of this material with the polyrhythmic accompaniment
just described is not a mere superposition of different elements. A close
look at the piano, harp, and marimba parts shows how the different
pulse layers are integrated into their music. The right hand of the
piano, for instance, participates in the slowest pulse of 24 bpm. The
harp initially follows the rallentando pattern in measures 14 and 15,
and from measure 18 onwards accentuates the fastest pulse of 28 bpm
to which the rallentando has led. The marimba articulates the 26.25
bpm layer. The other percussion instruments also share some of these
pulses, and the piano part adds an extra layer of 24.5 bpm (every
twelfth septuplet sixteenth note), a quarter of the tempo of 98 bpm
that will follow in measure 27. See Example 12.
11: RHYTHMIC REDUCTION OF MM. 13–23 (MM. 13–17)

EXAMPLE
11 (CONT.): RHYTHMIC REDUCTION OF MM. 13–23 (MM. 18–23)

EXAMPLE
118
Perspectives of New Music

EXAMPLE 12: EXCERPT FROM THE SCORE (MM. 19–21)
Concerto For Orchestra. Music by Elliott Carter © Copyright 1969 Associated Music Publishers, Inc.
Chester Music Limited trading as G Schirmer. All Rights Reserved. International Copyright Secured. Used by Permission of Chester Music Limited trading as G Schirmer.
All of this clearly indicates that we should understand the large scale
and the local level as closely related, constantly interacting with each
other. The structural polyrhythm defines the rhythmic appearance of
the accompaniment, which also penetrates into the material of
Movement I. Turning things around, we could also see the piano, harp,
and marimba parts as elaborations of the local polyrhythm, adding
flourishes to the superimposed periodicities.
A similar texture is found between measures 126 and 141, the closing
section of Movement I. Here, no less than six pulse layers are com-
bined, and there are some additional periodicities that are not aligned
with the rest.44 Five of these layers come to a point of coincidence just
one beat before the beginning of Movement II in measure 142. This is
illustrated in Example 13.
Here the proportions are of a more complex nature, with factors such
as 27, 11, and 17. Carter maintains the general idea of the structural
polyrhythm, but takes it in another direction, no longer adhering to
the specific numbers, but instead using it to create the desired effect of
increasing tension towards the beginning of Movement II.
Whereas the pulse speeds in measures 16 to 23 ensue from the
climax in measures 12 and 13, here they arise from nothing and lead to
the climax of measures 141–142. Carter thus framed Movement I with
these similar textures, creating a kind of mirror relationship between its
beginning and end.
Another striking example of framing is found in Movement III. The
beginning of the movement is marked with a twelve-note cluster and a
distinctive timpani motif in measure 292. The chromatic cluster is not
stated at once, but is assembled within the run-up to measures 287 and
beyond. In measure 285 (which is exactly the 39th secondary basic
isolated Ab. In the next measure, the pitches A, Bb, and B are added in
pulse of the aforementioned 40-step short wave), the tuba plays an
the double bassoon, French horns, timpani, and double basses. Three
C#, D, D#. In measure 287 (the conclusion of the aforementioned 40-

beats later, these instruments (along with the cellos) play the cluster C,
completed with the E, F, F#, G cluster in the bassoons, brass, and low
element secondary basic pulse cycle), the twelve-tone chord is
strings. Later in this movement (m. 347), a similar timpani motif leads
to another twelve-tone cluster in the low strings. This cluster deserves
attention for at least three reasons. First, it is a static chord that lasts
for more than five measures (around thirteen seconds), thus standing
out in a composition with a generally high degree of activity. Second,
the chord’s dynamic strength is inversely proportional to its structural
importance. The chord is stated in ppp, with the extra indication of
“(ppp sempre)” after one measure to make sure the musicians stay at
13: RHYTHMIC REDUCTION OF MM. 126–141 (MM. 126–133)

EXAMPLE
13 (CONT.): RHYTHMIC REDUCTION OF MM. 126–141 (MM. 134–141)

EXAMPLE
the lowest possible dynamic level while some of the string parts make
slight crescendos and diminuendos between pp and p. Third, the pas-
sage marks the exact middle of Movement III: the end of the chord
coincides with A6 (measure 353). Significantly, this structural pulse A6
(at basic pulse 787.5) is the point in the entire polyrhythmic structure
that most approximates the golden section (1260 pulses times 0.618
equals basic pulse 778.68, which would occur around m. 350).
Finally, in measure 417 near the close of Movement III, the entire
orchestra is engaged in a twelve-tone cluster at the other extreme of
the dynamic range of the composition: sfff–f. Immediately after the
attack, the timpani appear. Each of the three timpani passages are
illustrated in Example 14.
What do these three timpani passages have in common? First, they
all start with a descending fourth (beginning from the second note in
the first case). They all have an accelerating pattern and a repeated
high note in alternation with lower notes (almost like baroque “virtual
polyphony”). All three motifs end with a large downward interval: the
first and last with a minor ninth, the second with an augmented eleventh
(minor ninth plus perfect fourth). Notice that both the perfect fourth
and minor ninth are intervals assigned to Movement III.
MM. 292–293
MM. 348–349
MM. 417–418
EXAMPLE 14: TIMPANI MOTIFS IN MM. 292–293,

MM. 348–349, AND MM. 417–418
A comparison amongst these three passages shows how Carter uses

the twelve-note cluster and the timpani to clearly mark the beginning,
middle, and end of Movement III, while articulating the structural
pulses A5, A6, and A7.
Just as the basses had prepared the appearance of Movement III
material during Movement II (Example 10), they now continue to play
such notes (albeit in a more or less regular rhythm) during the first
measures of Movement IV. Example 15 illustrates this.
Procedures like these show how Carter brings a quality of dynamic
change into his composition, transcending the underlying level of math-
ematically consistent temporal structures. Linearity and even teleology
are important features of the Concerto for Orchestra and help to
establish a strong internal dramaturgy, pushing the music forward in
an organic way, unhindered by the many constructional devices and
the abundance of periodicity.
distance from previous entry

measure pitch/interval (measured in sixteenth notes)
421 minor 7th 22
A#
423 minor 7th 20
D#
424 18
G#
425 18
426 17
426 perfect 4th 19
427 perfect 4th 18
428 C 18
429 minor 9th 17
429 minor 9th 17
430 minor 9th 16
EXAMPLE 15: PERSISTENCE OF THIRD MOVEMENT MATERIAL

DURING MOVEMENT IV
THE CODA
Carter’s description of the coda in his analytical chart reads: “rapid

alternations of I, II, III, dominated by IV.”45 There is no information
about the way in which the four movements are alternated. In the liter-
ature, the coda is often left out of the discussion, and the sketches do
not provide much clear-cut information either about a possible order-
ing of the musical material between measures 518 and 600.
Although the coda is very dense and instruments tend to play
material from movements they were not initially linked with,46 Carter
re-establishes a very clear connection between the structural polyrhythm
and the musical surface. The duration of the coda equals exactly 126
basic pulses and thus bridges the gap between structural pulse D10 and
the hypothetical point of exact coincidence at basic pulse 1260. From a
number of pages in the sketches, we can deduce that Carter was
working with short waves again, a combination of four speeds
expressing a ratio of 10:9:8:7. These pages show the last section of
basic pulses, ranging from 1170 to 1260. There are indications of four
periodic pulse layers, all coinciding on basic pulse 1260. These pulses
are numbered, but the beginning of the cycle is not shown and the
numbering is not entirely complete. There are, however, enough
elements to reconstruct a combination of 20, 18, 16, and 14 pulses, or
two consecutive cycles of the 10:9:8:7 polyrhythm. A reconstruction of
the incomplete scheme renders basic pulse 1100 as the beginning of
the first cycle and 1180 (or 1181)47 as the beginning of the second.
Starting such a polyrhythmic cycle at basic pulse 1100 may seem
surprising, since it throws us back into the body of Movement IV, 34
basic pulses before the beginning of the coda. But the passage around
basic pulse 1100 actually is an important moment in the composition.
In measures 489–494 Carter seems to contract the last pulses of his
structural polyrhythm to a single moment in which the four movements
are combined. In fact, we could say that the coda virtually begins here,
although Movement IV is not yet finished. Such an overlapping of
movements is not hard to imagine in this composition, and it explains
why Carter combines the four movements here, not only as a climax in
Movement IV, but also as the starting point (or anticipation) of the
coda.48 The beginning of the coda in measure 518 can thus be seen as
a goal that was prepared by a short wave polyrhythm that began in
measure 495.
The weight of basic pulse 1180 (or 1181) appearing around measure
550 is more apparent.49 There is an outburst of musical activity after a
very soft moment of relative stillness. The entire orchestra starts on the
first beat, and there is a superposition of different (perfect or
imperfect) periodicities leading to a cluster in measure 560.50
As we might expect, the four pulse layers that Carter indicates in

these sketches are related to the four movements of the composition.
They are the key to understanding exactly how Carter realized his
“rapid alternations of I, II, III, dominated by IV.” This passage is also
the clearest link with the coda from the Double Concerto, in which
the soloists and the different groups of the orchestra play regular
accents at different speeds. In the Concerto for Orchestra, this surface
phenomenon was transferred to the structural level, regulating the
alternation of larger portions of music, not just timbral accents.
Regarding the assignment of the different movements to the pulse
layers, Carter maintained the same order as in the structural poly-
rhythm (compare Example 16 with Example 4). Although this short
wave is not a division of a time-span framed by two basic pulses—as
was the case in Movement I—it does reflect the same proportions as
the larger structural polyrhythm.
In the slowest of these four pulse layers, the entries are eleven basic
pulses apart. This layer is clearly connected with Movement I, since
almost every appearance of the piano (and/or harp, marimba) during
the coda occurs at a pulse from this layer.51 Simultaneously with these
piano motifs, the strings (without violins) present the main intervals
associated with Movement I.
The pulse layer consisting of sixteen entries is incomplete in Carter’s
scheme, but we can deduce from the sketch that the distance between
these pulses is 9.75 basic pulses. This layer is linked with Movement
III, expressed by low brass and woodwinds and low strings. Sometimes,
Carter deviates from the registral and timbral properties normally asso-
ciated with Movement III and writes its typical intervals (minor ninth,
minor seventh, and perfect fourth) in the high woodwinds or violins.
The eighteen-pulse layer is connected with Movement IV, but since
this movement was meant to dominate the coda, there are many
appearances of this movement’s material outside the pulses. Neverthe-
less, each pulse of this layer is articulated by the intervals and/or
instruments of Movement IV.
Finally, the twenty-pulse layer, associated with Movement II, is also
clearly articulated, especially beyond measure 537 (basic pulse 1167).
Up to that point, the violins continuously played long, sustained
chords using the main intervals of the second movement. In measure
537 they stop and give way to the piano, harp, and xylophone, which
play Movement I material. The next appearances of Movement II are
shorter and occur at the points in time defined by the pulse layer. In
measure 580, the characteristic perfect fifth usually found in piccolos
or violins is shifted to the French horns, along with the double bassoon,
trombones, and tuba. This is the clearest example of how the character
of one movement can be expressed by instruments of another.
16: “SHORT WAVE” IN THE CODA BETWEEN BASIC PULSES 1100 AND 1260
EXAMPLE
The partial coincidence point between the ten-pulse and the eight-
pulse layers halfway through a 10:9:8:7 polyrhythm in the coda is some-
what obscured by Carter’s deviations from the theoretical polyrhythm.
Yet there still are clear collisions of movements II and III around basic
pulses 1142 and 1220. The assignment of these particular movements
to the respective pulse layers allows the highest and lowest registers to
be combined here, just as the overarching structural polyrhythm gave
rise to the immediate succession of the extreme registers of movements
II and III.
The virtual ending of this short wave is of course at basic pulse
1260, which actually would occur after the end of the composition.
The last basic pulse that actually sounds during the course of the work
is the one at basic pulse 1252, in measure 593. The big cluster in the
strings is the beginning of the very last phase in this short wave, the
final gap before the exact coincidence point. This gap is filled—as was
mentioned earlier (Example 9)—with the combination of four speeds
linked with the four movements. We also recognize some of the
characteristic intervals, such as the major sixth and major seventh
(Movement I), the minor ninth (Movement III), the minor third
(Movement IV), and the perfect fifth (Movement II).
With this last statement, Carter returns to the essence of intervals
and polyrhythmic superposition, cleared of the themes, motifs, and ges-
tures that were heard before. With these neutralized layers, he creates a
short fade-out ending at a perfect coincidence point amongst all four
movements. But even in this last “grand gesture” Carter does not only
differentiate among the four layers, he also connects them with the
entire orchestra, as the orchestration of the last pulses follows a clear
trajectory from the woodwinds and mallets to the strings and back.
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION
An astonishing realization of musical craftsmanship and originality,

Carter’s Concerto for Orchestra can be understood as a gigantic con-
struction in which several temporal layers are combined to create a
unique form and a clear dramatic discourse. Not only does a distinc-
tion of these layers help us to differentiate between the forest and the
trees, the interaction between the layers is also of paramount impor-
tance in order to understand the dramaturgy of the piece.
We have seen that the structural polyrhythm primarily serves as a
means to divide the duration of the entire composition into four
movements with an introduction and a coda. Transitions between con-
secutive movements occur at (near-)coincident points between these
movements’ pulse layers. The principal feature of the Concerto for
Orchestra—the continuous presence of all four movements—is also

organized by means of the structural polyrhythm: the silent move-
ments are allowed to come to the musical surface at the points in time
defined by their pulse layers. As a result, the appearances of the four
movements are basically periodic. Given the large dimensions of the
composition and the combination of four different pulse layers, this
seemingly simple periodicity is blurred, which results in a very complex
network of thematic/timbral/intervallic relations.
In addition to the single, overarching structural polyrhythm, there
are several other polyrhythms at different temporal levels, ranging from
local polyrhythms (combinations of different divisions of the beat) to
what Carter called short waves. These short waves can be divisions of
the time-span between two or more structural pulses (as in the first and
second movements) or can start in medias res and lead to a particular
end point (as in the coda). In some instances, the entire orchestra is
engaged in the articulation of polyrhythmic superpositions to prepare
or emphasize a specific moment in the discourse of the movement
(e.g., at the beginning and end of the first movement, or the passage
from basic pulse 1180 onwards in the coda).
The composer devotes special attention to transitions from one move-
ment to another. The first movement sets off with an orchestral poly-
rhythmic texture, starting from a chaotic outburst of sound in measures
12–13. The transition from Movement II to III is marked by periodic
staccato attacks in the trombones at 144 bpm (based on similar trumpet
signals at the beginning of Movement I) and another textural climax.
The third movement is divided into large segments by the use of giant
clusters and a recurrent timpani motif marking the beginning, middle,
and end of the time-span. The fourth movement starts seemingly with-
out any transition, though the periodic staccato motif at 144 bpm in
the trumpets connects this moment with the previous movements.
Important manifestations of movements or their respective materials
are often prepared in various ways. Sometimes, a slowly starting acceler-
ando introduces the material long before its actual appearance (see the
preparation of basic pulse A4 in the basses). In the piano part, short
motifs prefigure the start of an appearance of the first movement (as in
measures 237–243). At the structural level, the start of the coda is
anticipated by the short wave starting before the end of Movement IV.
Speeds and tempi have a unifying function. Besides the all-governing
virtual tempo of 63 bpm, three other surface tempi occur throughout
the composition (112, 126, and 144 bpm). The notated tempo marks
serve the dynamic flux of the surface rhythms, and are sometimes chosen
on the basis of a short wave polyrhythm (e.g. the tempo of q = 80 from
measure 239 onwards).
Proportions are more important than absolute values, just as intervals

are more important than specific pitches. At the local polyrhythmic level,
there are many superpositions of eighth note triplets, sixteenth notes,
and sixteenth note quintuplets (3:4:5). The main rhythmic character of
the piano part is based on septuplets, regardless of the absolute tempo
or speed. The fundamental proportion of 10:9:8:7 is omnipresent at all
levels of the composition.
With all this information in mind, we can distinguish between several
temporal levels in the Concerto for Orchestra. On the one hand, there is
a layer of basic pulses at 63 bpm that adds an extra—virtual—tempo-
rality. This pulse grid is the basis of a structural polyrhythm consisting
of four limbs. The duration of the composition is defined by the bound-
aries of the structural polyrhythm, which is a prefiguration of Carter’s
modus operandi in later works of the 1980s. The interaction between
the four strata provides points of (near-)coincidence, serving as demar-
cation points for the musical form. The polyrhythm is also subdivided
in short waves or secondary cycles.
On the other hand, there is the temporality of the notated meter and
tempo. This level shows a great variability and flexibility. The notated
time signatures and tempi are the framework for specific pulse speeds,
rhythms, and polyrhythms. Changes in tempo and/or meter can mark
transitions from one formal segment to another.
The static structure that Carter develops on the basis of strictly
periodic basic pulses at 63 bmp is thus translated into a dynamic
musical form: the actual succession of movements, the appearances of
material from other movements, and the rhythmic, melodic, and
harmonic surface of the Concerto for Orchestra.
In addition to the structural polyrhythm and the surface metric and
rhythmic structure, there are also long-range processes of accelerando
and ritardando.52 Throughout the entire composition, several of these
processes run simultaneously. While one type of material has a decel-
erating rhythmic profile over the course of the composition, the speed
of another type increases (independent of the metric structure). While
these gradual evolutions are situated primarily at the musical surface,
they play an important role in keeping this composition together. This
is summarized in Example 17.
Taking all aspects into consideration, it is the continuous interaction
between different structural levels that yields a dynamic musical form,
which is characterized by a clear dramatic discourse including several
climaxes and a strong sense of formal balance. Moreover, the presence of
the same proportions all through these structural levels ensures a strong
internal coherence which makes Carter’s Concerto for Orchestra as
captivating to study as it is overwhelming to hear.
17: SCHEMATIC REPRESENTATION OF THE INTERACTION BETWEEN

DIFFERENT STRUCTURAL LEVELS IN THE CONCERTO FOR ORCHESTRA
EXAMPLE
NO T E S
I am pleased to thank the University of Leuven and Research

Foundations Flanders for their generous support of my research.
1. David Harvey, The Later Music of Elliott Carter: A Study in Music

Theory and Analysis (London: Garland Publishing, 1989), 116.
2. Jonathan Bernard, “Spatial Sets in Recent Music of Elliott Carter,”
Music Analysis 2/1 (1983), 32.
3. The sketches for the Concerto for Orchestra are not only
numerous, they are also somewhat unordered. Jonathan Bernard
organized the sketches in 1991, dividing them into four large piles
of paper linked with the four movements of the composition (cf.
private correspondence with Jonathan Bernard). This ordering is
maintained in the microfilms that are now available at the Paul
Sacher Foundation. There is also an attempt at differentiation
between rhythmic sketches, harmonic sketches, and miscellaneous
material. Nevertheless, it is very difficult to have a complete
overview of the material. Many of the pages are dated, but very
often Carter changed some elements afterwards, which makes a
chronological ordering or a reconstruction of the composition
process (nearly) impossible.
4. Harvey, The Later Music of Elliott Carter, 116–143.
5. David Schiff, The Music of Elliott Carter, 2nd ed. (New York:
Cornell University Press, 1998), 290–299.
6. Bernard, “Spatial Sets,” 5–34.
7. Jonathan Bernard, “Poem as Non-Verbal Text: Elliott Carter’s
Concerto for Orchestra and Saint-John Perse’s Winds,” Analytical
Strategies and Musical Interpretation, ed. Craig Ayrey and Mark
Everist (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 169–204.
8. Felix Meyer, ed., Settling New Scores: Music Manuscripts from the
Paul Sacher Foundation (Mainz: Schott, 1998); Felix Meyer and
Anne Shreffler, eds., Elliott Carter: A Centennial Portrait in
Letters and Documents (Suffolk: Boydell Press, 2008).
9. Jonathan Bernard, “The Evolution of Elliott Carter’s Rhythmic
Practice,” Perspectives of New Music 26/2 (1988), 164–203.
10. John F. Link, “Long-Range Polyrhythms in Elliott Carter’s Recent

Music,” PhD diss., City University of New York, 1994.
11. Andrew Mead, “On Tempo Relations,” Perspectives of New Music
45/1 (2007), 64–109.
12. A selection: Jonathan Bernard, “Poem as Non-Verbal Text,” op.
cit.; Brenda Ravenscroft, “The Anatomy of a Song: Text and
Texture in Elliott Carter’s ‘O Breath,’” in Ex Tempore 9/1 (1998),
84–102; and Brenda Ravenscroft, “Setting the Pace: the Role of
Speeds in Elliott Carter’s A Mirror on Which to Dwell,” in Music
Analysis 22/3 (2003), 253–282.
13. Marguerite Boland and John F. Link, eds., Elliott Carter Studies
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
14. Rosário Santana, “Musical Discourse and Rhythm in Elliott
Carter,” Ex Tempore 9/1 (1998), 37–83.
15. Larson Powell, “The Character of Polyphony: Carter’s Concerto for
Orchestra,” in Polyphony and Complexity, New Music and Aesthetics
in the 21st Century, vol. 1, ed. Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, Frank
Cox, and Wolfram Schurig (Hofheim: Wolke Verlag, 2002), 11–37.
16. In The Music of Elliott Carter, David Schiff also mentions “a
dramatic low point near the centre of the work” and localizes this
in measures 350–353. According to the structural polyrhythm and
the transition from Movement II to III, the center of the
composition is in measure 287, more than 60 measures earlier than
Schiff ’s center, which is in fact the center of the third movement.
17. Powell, “The Character of Polyphony,” 33.
18. Carter discusses the Concerto for Orchestra and its main features
in: Elliott Carter, “Music and the Time Screen (1976),” in Elliott
Carter: Collected Essays and Lectures, 1937–1995, ed. Jonathan
Bernard (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 1997), 262–
280; Elliott Carter, “On Saint-John Perse and the Concerto for
Orchestra (1974),” in Elliott Carter: Collected Essays and Lectures,
1937–1995, 250–256.
19. The analytical chart on which these indications are found is
reproduced in Schiff, The Music of Elliott Carter, 294–295.
20. Schiff, The Music of Elliott Carter, 290–299.
21. Around the time of the Concerto for Orchestra, Carter himself
considered “the rhythmic and metric aspect of music . . . intrinsic
to my music, just as intrinsic as pitch” (quoted from Benjamin

Boretz, “Conversation with Elliott Carter,” Perspectives of New
Music 8/2 [1970], 18).
22. Craig Weston, “Inversion, Subversion, and Metaphor: Music and
Text in Elliott Carter’s ‘A Mirror on Which to Dwell,’” DMA
diss., University of Washington, 1992; John Link, “Long-Range
Polyrhythms”; Andrew Mead, “On Tempo Relations”; Andrew
Mead, “Time Management: Rhythm as a Formal Determinant in
Certain Works of Elliott Carter,” in Boland and Link (eds.), Elliott
Carter Studies, 138–167.
23. Jonathan Bernard points at some earlier precursors of these ideas
in Jonathan Bernard, “The True Significance of Elliott Carter’s
Early Music,” in Boland and Link (eds.), Elliott Carter Studies, 3–
32. More specifically, he distinguishes rhythmical canons in Holiday
Overture (1944) and aspects of characterization in the Piano
Sonata (1947).
24. The gradual evolutions in Elliott Carter’s use of rhythm and
temporality from 1948 to the beginning of the 1960s are explored
in great detail and clarity in at least two lengthy articles: Bernard,
“The Evolution of Elliott Carter’s Rhythmic Practice”; and
William E. Brandt, “The Music of Elliott Carter: Simultaneity and
Complexity,” Music Educators Journal 60/9 (1974), 24–32.
25. Carter described his procedure in such terms in Allen Edwards,
Flawed Words and Stubborn Sounds: A Conversation with Elliott
Carter (New York: W. W. Norton &. Co., 1971), 111.
26. I refer to the microfilmed pages with their number as catalogued
in the archives of the Paul Sacher Foundation.
27. I prefer the term “virtual tempo,” as opposed to the “real tempo”
as written/performed.
28. I will refer to articulations of this virtual tempo of 63 bpm as
“basic pulses.” Basic pulses articulating the 10:9:8:7 structural
polyrhythm will be referred to as “structural pulses.” Note that
Andrew Mead’s approach depends more on the distance between
these pulses (hence, his use of time-spans), while I have based my
analysis on the exact points in time of the pulses themselves (the
onsets of the time-spans).
29. MF 238-0410.
30. MF 238-1046.
31. Perhaps somewhat speculatively, one could see an analogy with

György Ligeti’s Atmosphères or Requiem, in which even more
extreme leaps from high to low are found. Carter did see the score
of Apparitions in the context of the ISCM World Music Days in
Cologne in 1961 (see Elliott Carter, “Sixty Staves to Read,” The
Writings of Elliott Carter, ed. Else Stone and Kurt Stone
[Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1977], 197–199). The
superposition of incongruent tuplets is also very common in
Ligeti’s compositions from the 1960s.
32. There are different interpretations of the beginning of the coda.
Some of them were given in Example 2 (m. 518 or m. 532).
According to David Schiff, The Music of Elliott Carter, 299, the
coda would start in measure 561. In general, it is always hard to
pin down the exact beginning of a new segment in Carter’s music,
since not all parameters necessarily change simultaneously. On the
other hand, the structural polyrhythm is a convincing argument to
have the coda start in measure 518, since that place in the score
coincides exactly with basic pulse 1134.
33. Jonathan Bernard provides a compelling comparison with the poem
Vents by Saint-John Perse, which had an immediate influence on
Carter while he composed the Concerto for Orchestra. Bernard,
“Poem as non-verbal text,” 169–204.
34. See Carter’s aforementioned analytical chart.
35. One exception should be mentioned, related to pulse C5 (m. 255).
Carter does not mention an appearance of Movement IV (Layer C)
here, but he does indicate an appearance of Movement III (Layer A)
at exactly this point in time (mm. 253–257 as written in the chart).
In the score, we can see the snare drums, trumpets, and French
horns as representatives of the fourth movement, while the trom-
bones seem to suggest the third movement. The protagonists of
both movements (violas and basses, respectively) are conspicuous by
their absence. The pitch structure on the other hand is exclusively
built out of fourth-movement chords. From this, we may gather
that the passage from measure 253 to 257 does indeed refer to
Movement IV and that Carter probably wrote the measure numbers
in the wrong column of his chart. This means that the internal
structure of the structural polyrhythm systematically defines the
(hence periodical) main appearances of the four movements.
36. These terms are found on MF 238-0114 (among others). The
long waves correspond to the structural polyrhythm, while the
short waves are further subdivisions of these long waves at more

local levels. In this respect, Carter’s use of the word waves can be
linked with the wave-like patterns he described in the coda of the
Double Concerto (see Elliott Carter, “Music and the Time Screen,”
260). The main difference here is that the waves in the Concerto
for Orchestra span the entire duration of the composition.
37. The data of this mapping are not included here for the sake of
conciseness. One of the reasons why the scheme is not exactly
translated into the score is the often very quick succession of
different movements, which would disturb the musical flow and
coherence of the first movement.
38. In relation with later compositions, Andrew Mead theorizes about
the calculations of local polyrhythms expressing the proportions of
the structural polyrhythm and the notion of “formats” in Mead,
“Time Management,” 146ff.
39. Rosário Santana also mentions this measure in her article. She
rather focuses on the gradual build-up towards a 7:6:5:4:3 poly-
rhythm than on making the connection with the larger structure.
40. In fact, most of the rhythmic characters that Carter uses in the
Concerto for Orchestra have a notational identity rather than a
consistency in terms of speed (contrasting to those of the Second
String Quartet, to give but one example). The piano part is the
most obvious example, with its predominance of septuplets,
regardless of the reigning tempo.
41. Jonathan Kramer characterizes Carter as representative of the
“opposition to the moment concept” and emphasizes his predi-
lection for continuity in Jonathan Kramer, The Time of Music: New
Meanings, New Temporalities, New Listening Strategies (New York:
Schirmer Books, 1988), 205.
42. Harvey, The Later Music of Elliott Carter, 312–314.
43. A second type of Movement I (Layer B) material is found in the
expressive, yearning cello lines.
44. Jonathan Bernard mentions similar strategies in the Double
Concerto: “Interesting things do happen almost from the first,
however, aside from the articulation of Carter’s rhythmic plan as
shown in the diagram. For instance, two entrances of the major
second, both connected by proximity to the main scheme (also
shown in the percussion part), themselves articulate the speed MM
12.5 exactly, but independently of the main scheme,” in Bernard,

“The Evolution of Elliott Carter’s Rhythmic Practice,” 193.
45. In this chart, Carter indicates that the coda runs from measure 533
to 619, whereas there are only 600 measures in the final score.
46. Powell, “The Character of Polyphony,” 15.
47. There are some inconsistencies in the scheme, as well as some
missing elements, leading to different possible starting points of
the second cycle. The result varies according to the choice between
adhering to Carter’s (incorrect) numbers or making a mathemat-
ically correct reconstruction.
48. This discrepancy between the structural beginning of the coda and
the place in the score where the new segment actually starts is
closely related to the idea of form in Carter’s First String Quartet,
where the pauses occur within the movements, because the transi-
tion from one movement to another is the goal of each movement.
49. In fact, the erroneous basic pulse 1181 comes just two triplet
eighth notes before the downbeat of measure 550, which makes it
plausible that Carter did adhere to his “wrong” scheme after all.
50. This probably explains David Schiff ’s interpretation of measure
550 as a near-coincidence point in the structural polyrhythm and
his choice to let the coda begin in measure 561 (Schiff, The Music
of Elliott Carter, 298–299.). There are, however, too many
elements that point towards measure 518 as the beginning of the
coda, with an important structural anticipation from measure 495
onwards.
51. There is only one exception, in measures 545–546, where two very
short piano motifs occur outside the pulse layer. This can be
interpreted as an intensification towards the end of the first cycle
and the beginning of the second cycle at pulse 1181.
52. See Harvey, The Later Music of Elliott Carter, 116–143.

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Static Structure, Dynamic Form: An Analysis of Elliott Carter's Concerto for Orchestra

Author(s): Klaas Coulembier

’ is one of his most

The Concerto for Orchestra is Carter’s richest and most complex

That this work is attractive to analysts is beyond question; the

Dealing with the huge expanses of Carter’s scores . . . is still not

THE CONCERTO FOR ORCHESTRA IN LITERATURE: AN OVERVIEW

Apart from a chapter in David Harvey’s dissertation,4 there are no

David Schiff gives a comprehensible overview of the composition in

For if character is so absolute as to usurp the place of language,

Despite the various analytical observations in the extensive literature

LARGE-SCALE POLYRHYTHM AND FORM

The Concerto for Orchestra consists of four movements framed by an

EXAMPLE 1: OVERVIEW OF THE FOUR MOVEMENTS (DEFINED BY REGISTER,

EXAMPLE 2: OVERVIEW OF THE INTRODUCTION, FOUR MOVEMENTS, AND

regulating device, in the Second String Quartet. In the 1960s he devel-

EXAMPLE 3: TRANSCRIPTION FROM THE SKETCHES (MF 238-0098)26

MAPPED ONTO THE STRUCTURAL POLYRHYTHM

SUBDIVISIONS OF THE LARGE-SCALE POLYRHYTHM

5: “SHORT WAVES,” OR SUBDIVISIONS OF THE STRUCTURAL POLYRHYTHM

Combining this theoretical periodicity with the score, we see that

EXAMPLE 7: DIFFERENT BEAT DIVISIONS IN MEASURE 12

EXAMPLE 8: PROPORTIONS OF STRUCTURAL POLYRHYTHM AT LOCAL LEVEL

As shown by the sketch transcribed in Example 3, the same rhythmic

TEMPO AS A STRUCTURAL DEVICE

In addition to the polyrhythmic structure, which defines the music

The periodic trumpet motif from measure 14 returns right before

9: TRANSCRIPTION FROM THE SKETCHES (MF 240-0805)

Expressed as factors of a sixteenth-note sextuplet, and given the

168×6 168×6 168×6 168×6

By bringing the numbers 10, 9, 8, and 14 (or 7) to the denominator,

The distribution of material according to as highly a periodical and sym-

basses play a low Eb which seems unconnected to the other musical

material in that passage. If we follow the basses from measure 179 to

distance from previous entry

EXAMPLE 10: ACCELERATING PATTERN PREPARING THE APPEARANCE OF

a few attacks do not belong to these layers. They form a written-out

11: RHYTHMIC REDUCTION OF MM. 13–23 (MM. 13–17)

11 (CONT.): RHYTHMIC REDUCTION OF MM. 13–23 (MM. 18–23)

All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms

C#, D, D#. In measure 287 (the conclusion of the aforementioned 40-

13: RHYTHMIC REDUCTION OF MM. 126–141 (MM. 126–133)

13 (CONT.): RHYTHMIC REDUCTION OF MM. 126–141 (MM. 134–141)

EXAMPLE 14: TIMPANI MOTIFS IN MM. 292–293,

A comparison amongst these three passages shows how Carter uses

distance from previous entry

EXAMPLE 15: PERSISTENCE OF THIRD MOVEMENT MATERIAL

Carter’s description of the coda in his analytical chart reads: “rapid

As we might expect, the four pulse layers that Carter indicates in

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION

An astonishing realization of musical craftsmanship and originality,

Orchestra—the continuous presence of all four movements—is also

Proportions are more important than absolute values, just as intervals

17: SCHEMATIC REPRESENTATION OF THE INTERACTION BETWEEN

I am pleased to thank the University of Leuven and Research

1. David Harvey, The Later Music of Elliott Carter: A Study in Music

10. John F. Link, “Long-Range Polyrhythms in Elliott Carter’s Recent

to my music, just as intrinsic as pitch” (quoted from Benjamin

31. Perhaps somewhat speculatively, one could see an analogy with

short waves are further subdivisions of these long waves at more

12.5 exactly, but independently of the main scheme,” in Bernard,

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