Form and Sonic Materials in the Piano Music of Iannis Xenakis

Ronald Squibbs

1. Introduction

As of the time of this writing, Xenakis has produced three major works for solo

piano. These works were composed at approximately ten-year intervals over the first

thirty years of his career. Each one reflects the particular compositional issues that

occupied him during the time it was written. Taken as a set, these three works provide an

overview in microcosm of the development of his compositional technique. The first

work, Herma (1960-61), is concerned primarily with logical operations upon sets of

pitches. The application of the principles of symbolic logic to the domain of pitch in this

work results in what the composer has termed “symbolic music.”1 The second work,

Evryali (1973), introduces quasi-polyphonic branching structures into his writing for solo

piano. The composer refers to these branching structures as “arborescences.” Similar

structures had already been used in an earlier work for piano and orchestra, Synaphaï

(1969), and are combined in Evryali with percussive rhythmic patterns that look ahead to

works such as Psappha for solo percussion (1975).2 The third work, Mists (1980), is in

several respects a culmination of Xenakis’s previous writing for piano. Its style shows a

marked relaxation and expansion in comparison with the earlier works. In addition, there

is a particular richness in the variety of its textures. The arborescences that were

introduced in Evryali are combined in Mists with the stochastic “clouds” of pitches that

make up the substance of Herma. To these textures are added meandering melodic lines

that, according to the composer, are based on the “random walk,” a type of physical
process that describes the unpredictable motions of minute particles in a liquid or gaseous

medium.3 In contrast to the explosive textures found in Herma and the percussive

intensity of Evryali, Mists features slowly evolving textures and a delicate interplay of

harmonic colors, thereby creating an effect that is more “painterly” than the starkly

gestural language used in the earlier piano works. Following Mists, Xenakis has written

only one more work for solo piano, à r. (Hommage à Ravel) (1987). This brief

occasional work, commissioned as part of a celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of

Ravel’s death, contains a reworking of some of the random walks from Mists along with

some freshly composed material.4 Because of its brevity and the simplicity of its design,

à r. will not be considered here to be among Xenakis’s major piano works.

Of all Xenakis’s works for solo piano, Mists is particularly amenable to analysis.5

Because of the rich variety of its textures, the clarity of its formal design, and the

disciplined transformational techniques that are applied to its musical materials, it offers

a fairly comprehensive glimpse into the characteristics of the composer’s mature style.

This analysis begins with an overview of the textural and pitch materials in Xenakis’s

piano works, stopping at several points along the way for more detailed discussion of

their manifestations in Mists. This overview is followed by a discussion of the ways in

which the textural and pitch materials interact in order to generate the work’s form.

2. Musical Materials in the Piano Works

In adapting his highly individual compositional style to the medium of the piano,

Xenakis was forced to renounce many of the sonic devices that had taken on the status of

personal trademarks in his orchestral works of the mid-1950s. In place of the continuous

2
gradations in pitch available on the string instruments that dominated the orchestra in

Metastaseis (1953-54) and Pithoprakta (1955-56), the piano offers only an assortment of

discrete pitches in equal temperament. The piano is also limited in the number of

independently moving parts that may be realized on it, although Xenakis has been known

to push performers beyond their customary limits in this regard.6 Impossible also are the

special articulations available on string instruments, such as pizzicato and col legno. In

contrast to the great variety of extended techniques he has used in his writing for strings,

special techniques of any kind are notably absent from his writing for piano. Instead he

has limited himself to conventional means for achieving variety and contrast in the sound

of the instrument. These include differences in the frequency of attacks, the distinction

between simultaneous and successive attacks, and changes in register, dynamics, and

pedaling. The manner in which these means are employed is, of course, particular to

Xenakis’s highly individual style.

This section begins with an introduction to the three most important types of

textures in Xenakis’s piano music: stochastic textures, arborescences, and random walks.

Following this is an introduction to the use of pitch in the piano music.

2.1 Textural Types

2.1.1 Stochastic Textures

Xenakis developed stochastic composition in the mid-1950s as a response, on

both critical and aesthetic grounds, to the serialism practiced by Boulez, Stockhausen and

others earlier in the decade.7 In place of the accumulation of notes through the

superimposition of unrelated lines, such as the serialists had done, Xenakis proposed a

3
new technique in which the positions in pitch and time of masses of individual notes

could be determined according to the laws of probability. The composer describes the

textures that result from this compositional procedure as “clouds” or “galaxies” of

sounds. In a stochastic texture the time intervals between the attacks of the individual

sounds, as well as the intervals between the pitches, are determined statistically. The

result is intended to be an imitation of various types of random processes that occur in

nature as well as in human society. Musically a stochastic texture may be perceived as a

spontaneous burst of energy. The apparently random spontaneity of the surface is

supported, however, by a coherent underlying structure. This subtle underlying

coherence is achieved through the use of specific statistical formulas. These formulas

control in a general way the sizes of the intervals used and they allow the composer to

control the average rate at which the notes occur. This average rate, which is measured in

terms of the number of sounds per unit time, is the texture’s “density.” Changes in

density result in perceptible differences between individual clouds of sounds.

The overall shape and density of a stochastic texture may be represented vividly

by a two-dimensional pitch-time graph. A pitch-time graph is a geometrical

representation of a passage of music in which pitch values are measured along a vertical

axis and time values are measured along a horizontal axis. The result is a “snapshot” of

the passage of music. A pitch-time graph offers a clearer view of the shape of a

stochastic texture than does conventional musical notation, where the spatial distribution

of pitches is often obscured by octave displacement symbols (8va and 8vb) and the

temporal continuity is broken by the division of the score into systems.

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 Figure 1 shows a pitch-time graph of the concluding segment of Herma. The

graph displays the scatter pattern typical of stochastic textures. This pattern results from

the random distribution of intervals within the statistical structures selected by the

composer for the elements of pitch and time. The points on the graph illustrate pitches

and attack points. The durations of the sounds are notated in the score but are not

represented graphically. Pitches are calibrated in semitones, with 0 set at middle C.

Time is calibrated in measures, with each measure having a duration of two seconds at

the tempo specified by the composer. The total duration of this stochastic texture is 8.5

seconds. (The remaining 1.5 seconds in m. 219 consist of rests.) There are 165 notes in

the passage. Dividing this quantity into the total duration yields a mean density of 19.4

sounds per second, which is very close to the density of 20 sounds per second that is

specified in the score.

Herma is a work that consists entirely of stochastic textures, several of which are

separated by measured silences. The concluding segment is preceded by an 8-second

silence. Following this silence the stochastic texture enters at a dynamic level of fff and

at the work’s peak density level. In addition, the damper pedal is to be held down

throughout the entire passage. The result is a terrific explosion of sound that serves as a

climactic and fitting conclusion to the work.

Figure 2 shows a pitch-time graph of measures 41-50 of Mists. This passage

comes from the beginning of the work’s central section, which is an amalgamation of

sixty-four separate stochastic clouds. Unlike the stochastic textures in Herma, most of

which are clearly differentiated through the use of silences and stark contrasts in

dynamics and density, most of the stochastic textures in Mists follow one another

5
directly. According to changes in characteristics such as dynamics, density, articulation,

pedaling and pitch contents, all of which are clearly evident in the score, there are eight

separate stochastic textures represented in Fig. 2. Instead of separating the textures

perceptually, as similar changes tend to do in Herma, they merely combine in Mists to

create a colorful and continually evolving musical surface. The consequent vagueness in

the structural definition of the stochastic textures in Mists may well be the quality

referred to in the work’s English title.8 At the tempo prescribed by the composer, the

passage in Fig. 2 has a duration of 55 seconds, which is more than six times the duration

of the stochastic texture pictured in Fig. 1. Thus, though the densities of the textures in

both graphs sometimes appear similar, the textures in Fig. 2 are considerably less dense

than the one in Fig. 1.

The process of stochastic composition involves both numerical calculation and

musical notation. Once the intervals between the attack times and the pitches have been

calculated numerically, the composer must choose some means for notating the results.

Xenakis’s notational methods for stochastic music have evolved over the years. In

Herma, which dates from the early 1960s, he chose to assign the attack times to positions

within a rhythmic grid. This grid consists of subdivisions of a dotted-half-note beat into

five or six parts. The score’s rhythmic notation, therefore, consists mainly of quintuplet

and sextuplet eighth-note groups, each of which has a duration of one second at the

tempo prescribed by the composer. These quintuplets and sextuplets may be

superimposed with a different subdivision given to each hand, or both hands may play

from a single subdivision of the beat. In very dense passages, such as the segment that

was represented in Fig. 1, the eighth-note may be further subdivided into sixteenths.

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Example 1 shows the score for m. 215, which is the first measure of Herma’s concluding

segment.

Xenakis chose a different method for notating the stochastic textures in Mists.

This can be observed in Ex. 2, which shows the score to mm. 41-46. In this method the

attack times of the notes are distributed spatially within a simple sixteenth-note grid. In

several places in the example, the grid alternates between sixteenth- and eighth-notes.

This is not meant to imply a rhythmic pattern, but merely indicates the absence of attacks

around certain points within the grid. This notation is more flexible than that used in

Herma, since it does not limit the attacks to specific subdivisions of the beat. Ostensibly

the rhythm of the attacks in Mists can be more complex than in Herma, while at the same

time it is easier for the performer to read. This notation, which has been used in other

works as well, is actually quite close in concept to the graphic representation used in

Figs. 1 and 2.9 It also corresponds to the graphic representation of stochastic textures that

are found in some of the composer’s sketches.

Changes in dynamics, pedaling, or both together are correlated with changes in

density throughout the passage shown in Ex. 2. At the beginning of m. 44 there appears

to be a change in the statistical distribution that is used to calculate the intervals between

the pitches. In the preface to the score of Mists, Xenakis remarks that he made use of

“stochastic distributions such as the exponential law, the Cauchy law, the hyperbolic

cosine law, etc…, in order to produce sound clouds of defined density.”10 The

exponential distribution is typically involved in determining the time intervals between

attacks, but the Cauchy and hyperbolic cosine distributions may be used to calculate the

intervals between the pitches. The Cauchy distribution typically produces values that are

7
scattered widely from a central value, which is usually zero. As a value for a pitch

interval, zero results in a repetition of the previous pitch. The hyperbolic cosine

distribution, on the other hand, typically produces values that lie closely together within a

relatively limited range. Pitch repetitions are much more common when this distribution

is used. Thus, each distribution has a unique signature or “personality.” In Ex. 2 it

appears that the Cauchy distribution may have been used where the intervals are scattered

widely, as in mm. 41-43 and 46. Likewise, it appears that the hyperbolic cosine

distribution may have been used in mm. 44-45, where the pitches are clustered more

closely together. One additional detail in m. 46 should be noted: the arrival of the

dynamic level of fff at the end of the measure coincides with a change in the pitch

collection. (The pitch collections will be discussed in more detail below.) Constantly

unfolding changes such as those described here are characteristic of much of the central

section of Mists, which lasts from m. 41 to m. 121. These changes work together in this

section to create a richly varied musical surface.

2.1.2 Arborescences

The development of stochastic composition represented for Xenakis a radical

renunciation of the linear nature of traditional compositional methods. In his polemical

article against the serialism that was being practiced in the 1950s, “The Crisis of Serial

Music,” he declared:

Linear polyphony destroys itself by its very complexity; what one hears is
in reality nothing but a mass of notes in various registers.11

8
Stochastic composition allowed Xenakis to create complex textures one note at a time,

without resorting to the superimposition of functionally unrelated lines or series of

pitches and durations. The result was an emphasis on the directly perceptible aspects of

musical texture, an emphasis that did not take into account the traditional notion of

texture as the amalgamation of distinct voices. After he had thoroughly explored the

structural implications of stochastic composition in the late 1950s and throughout the

1960s, Xenakis softened his stance against linearity in music and approached the topic

anew in a characteristically fresh and original way. The result was the incorporation into

his compositions of branching structures, known as arborescences.

Arborescences consist of nodes and of the real or imaginary connections between

them. In one of the earliest works to make extensive use of arborescences, Synaphaï for

piano and orchestra (1969), the connections between the nodes in the string parts are

realized as continuous modulations of pitch, as in the massed string glissandi that were

introduced for the first time in Metastaseis (1953-54). In the piano part of Synaphaï the

connections between the nodes cannot be realized directly, but must be implied through

the general proximity of the pitches as well as through artful use of legato and pedaling

on the part of the performer.12 Although arborescences result in textures that are more

connected than stochastic textures typically are, their structure nonetheless retains an

element of unpredictability. The uncertainty comes from not knowing where or when a

branch will change direction or split into two branches. As an arborescence progresses

over time, the number of branches and the directions that they take change freely,

resulting in a complex but nevertheless coherent texture.

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 Though it is possible for the positions of the nodes and the directions of the

branches to be calculated numerically, evidence from Xenakis’s compositional sketches

suggests that he prefers to draw them freehand on graph paper. The points where the

continuous lines of the drawing cross the gridlines on the graph paper appear to help the

composer decide which pitches and attack times will be transcribed into musical notation.

The results of this process are designs that are notable for their striking visual beauty as

well as their musical interest. Figure 3 shows a pitch-time graph of mm. 179-188 of

Evryali, a passage that contains one of the work’s most spectacular arborescences. The

cascading contour of this arborescence covers the entire range of the piano and is as vivid

aurally as it is striking visually.

The forms of the arborescences in Evryali evolve freely as the work unfolds in

time. In Mists, however, the arborescences assume only a few different shapes. Two of

these shapes are subjected to systematic transformations. The first is shown in Fig. 4. In

Figure 4a it is transcribed as a succession of pitches paired with attack points. In this

transcription the branching aspect of its structure is difficult to discern. In Figure 4b, the

same arborescence is transcribed as a connected linear structure. Its branching structure

is clearly evident in this pitch-time graph, which corresponds closely to one of the images

that appears in the composer’s sketches for Mists.13 The musical notation for this

arborescence is shown in Ex. 3 where it extends from the beginning of m. 14 through the

first quarter-note beat of m. 16. The layout of the score suggests a polyphonic texture,

both through its use of distinct lines in each staff and through the implied instances of

compound melody at several points. A performer sensitive to the traditional implications

of this notation is likely to play the passage legato. Combined with the pedaling

10
indications specified by the composer, this will tend to project the connected nature of the

arborescence despite the discrete jumps in pitch level that are an inescapable limitation of

the instrument.

This arborescence reappears transformed twice, in mm. 22-24 and 28-30. In its

first transformation, shown in musical notation in Ex. 4, all of its pitches reappear in

essentially the same order but its duration is shortened from 9 quarter-note beats to only

7.5 beats. The reduction in the durations of individual notes is not arithmetically strict,

but instead represents an approximate rendering within the context of the arborescence’s

reduced overall duration. Attention to the global characteristics of an entire section of

music, in preference to the systematic manipulation of individual details, is typical of

Xenakis’s compositional style.14 In the second transformation of this arborescence,

shown in musical notation in Ex. 5, its duration is increased to 10 beats. There is also a

change in pitch collection in this transformation. While the contours of the lines in the

original arborescence are preserved, the change in pitch collection results in different

intervals between the individual pitches. These differences may be observed by

comparing Ex. 5 with Exx. 3 and 4. This pitch collection is not entirely new, for it is the

same as the one that is used in the ascending lines that follow the arborescences in Exx. 3

and 4.

The other arborescence in Mists that undergoes systematic transformations

appears for the first time in mm. 93-94. It is shown in a pitch-time graph in Fig. 5 and in

musical notation in Ex. 6. Its form is markedly different from that of the previous

arborescence. It consists of a curved central line that changes direction several times.

Smaller, wavy lines surround this central line. Only two instances of branching may be

11
found within this arborescence. The first occurs on the right side of the central line. The

second occurs where the second of the two wavy lines at the bottom joins the lower of the

two branches that has split off from the central line. Unlike the previous arborescence,

this one does not depend upon the conscientious use of legato and pedaling in order for

its lines to be clearly articulated. Instead, it makes use of repeated pitches to maintain the

integrity of its individual lines. Non-coinciding rhythms are used to differentiate between

these lines. These non-coinciding rhythms are similar to the ones used in the ascending

linear configurations that follow the arborescences in Exx. 3 and 4. Both in Ex. 6 and in

the earlier examples, rhythmic differences are used to separate the arborescences from the

surrounding material. In the middle section of the work, from which Ex. 6 is drawn, the

surrounding material consists of stochastic textures, as is clearly indicated by the

notation.

The transformations to which the arborescence in Ex. 6 is subjected do not consist

simply of changes in its duration, as was the case with the previous arborescence.

Instead, the complex of lines that makes up the new arborescence is treated as a single

object that is transformed by reflections and rotations within the two-dimensional pitch-

time space. The sequence of these transformations is shown in a pitch-time graph in Fig.

6. The first transformation, which occurs in mm. 109-110, results from a reflection of the

original arborescence about an imaginary axis that lies between A and B above middle

C, i.e. between pitches 9 and 10 in the graph. The result is a mirror image whose highest

pitch, B (10), overlaps the lowest pitch of the original, A (9). The remaining

transformations are easier to understand if one imagines the arborescence to be inscribed

in the 360-degree circle familiar from elementary geometry. If one further imagines a

12
vertical axis running through the center of the original arborescence, rotations of the

image may be associated with the tilting of this axis a specified number of degrees. The

transformation in mm. 115-116 results when the axis is rotated 225 degrees to the left (or,

equivalently 135 degrees to the right). The transformation in mm. 129-130 results when

the axis is rotated 315 degrees to the left (or 45 degrees to the right), and the one in mm.

133-134 when it is rotated 90 degrees to the left.15 These rotations represent standard

transformations within the Cartesian plane and are discernible in Fig. 6 despite slight

distortions in the form of the image. These distortions result from the composer’s

transcription of the original graphic images into musical notation, followed by my re-

transcription from musical notation back into graphic form.

Musically all five arborescences are similar, mainly because of their repeated

pitches and non-coinciding rhythms. It is unlikely that a listener would be able to detect

the specific transformational procedures employed, but even a casual listener should be

able to perceive the similarity between the segments of music containing these

arborescences. Additionally, the presentation of the five arborescences is provided with a

musical structure that is independent of the reflection and rotational transformations.

This large-scale structure consists of a descent in register from the arborescence in mm.

93-94 to the one in mm. 115-116 and back again, returning to the original register in mm.

133-134. This specifically “musical” structuring, which is quite simple in its design,

helps to convey the existence of a transformational process despite the rather esoteric

nature of its specifics. The balance between simplicity and complexity in this sequence

of transformations is typical of Xenakis, who freely indulges the flights of his

13
compositional imagination while yet striving to present a communicable musical

structure to the listener.

There are only two more arborescences in Mists. The first occurs in mm. 36-38,

where it is surrounded by configurations whose texture is basically linear. This

arborescence occurs in a section that is marked by a change in tempo. The beginning of

this section is shown in Ex. 5, following the arborescence in mm. 28-30. The linear

configuration that begins in m. 31 shows some branching, especially from the lower of its

two principal lines, but the emergence of a full-fledged arborescence is delayed until m.

36. The arborescence in mm. 36-38 is not subjected to any transformations and thus

remains a singleton. A second singleton arborescence occurs in mm. 80-83. In its

rhythmic structure it resembles the arborescences in the group of five discussed above

(see Fig. 6). It is longer and more complex than any member of the group of five and it

in fact precedes the first member of that group (in mm. 93-94) by several measures. It

may therefore be viewed as the progenitor of the five subsequent arborescences. Overall,

the structural role of the singleton arborescences appears to be transitional, leading away

from the group of three arborescences that occur near the beginning of the work and

toward the group of five arborescences whose conclusion coincides with the conclusion

of the work as a whole.

2.1.3 Random Walks

Physicist Charles Whitney has described the random walk as “the most important

process in statistical physics.” He goes on to describe one of its forms as “a model for
16
‘Brownian motion,’ the irregular, jiggling path of atoms in a gas.” In general, a

14
random walk is a temporal process in which an object undergoes irregular, unpredictable

changes in position. Over time the object traces a meandering path in which changes of

direction occur at random. Xenakis has used this physical model as the basis for the

opening of Mists, which is shown in musical notation in Ex. 7 and in a pitch-time graph

in Fig. 7. As in Fig. 4b, the attack points of the notes in Fig. 7 have been connected

linearly in order to facilitate visualization of the individual “voices.”

Each of the lines in Ex. 7 and Fig. 7 ultimately ascends from the low register

toward the high end of the keyboard. The first five lines, however, feature the

unpredictable changes in direction and speed that are characteristic of genuine random

walks. Together this group of five random walks constitutes a succession of quasi-

canonic entrances, but the shape of each line within this “canon at the unison” is slightly

different. In addition, the duration of each random walk becomes progressively shorter

with each new entrance. The last member of the group, introduced in m. 6, is the shortest

of all and never completes its journey toward the highest register of the piano.

Following this group of random walks is a series of lines that ascend across the

register of the piano directly, without making any changes in direction. The “canonic”

element is also absent from these lines, which begin in rhythmic unison. The lines occur

as a pair in mm. 7-9 and as a four-voice texture in mm. 9-11. As shown in Ex. 7,

however, non-coinciding rhythms are used to differentiate the component lines in both

groups of walks. Once established, these smoothed-out, “non-random” walks become the

norm for most of the remaining first part of Mists.

Beginning in m. 31, however, changes in direction once again become a feature of

the walks. This change in the contour of the walks coincides with the change of tempo

15
that is shown at the end of Ex. 5. Several walks are presented in mm. 31-36, leading up

to the singleton arborescence in mm. 36-38 that was described above. Measures 31-38

are shown in a pitch-time graph in Fig. 8. The walks occur in pairs from the end of m. 32

to the middle of m. 36. The contours of the paired walks in mm. 35-36 appear somewhat

random, as do the contours of the walks that are joined together in mm. 31-32. This

particular collection of walks shows some arborescent tendencies, as noted above, since

some of its component lines branch off from others. At the conclusion of this collection,

in the middle of m. 32, two walks diverge symmetrically outward from the central

register of the piano. The idea of symmetry is explored further in the pairs of walks that

follow in mm. 32-35. The first pair is symmetrical about a horizontal axis that is situated

at middle C (pitch level 0 in the graph). The following two pairs create oblong diamond

shapes that are mirror-symmetrical to one another. Because of the symmetrical patterns

that they create, the changes of direction featured in the walks in mm. 32-36 do not

appear to be random at all. Instead, they produce further instances of “non-random”

walks.

Between m. 36 and m. 122 walks—whether random or otherwise—are

conspicuously absent. Their return in m. 122, therefore, is an event of considerable

structural importance. This return is marked by a spectacular configuration in which

pairs of walks crisscross one another, creating a complex four-voice texture. The passage

in mm. 122-127 is shown in a pitch-time graph in Fig. 9. A descending group of four

walks in mm. 126-127 follows the crisscrossing pairs of walks. The descending contour

of this group of walks is in direct opposition to the generally ascending contour of the

16
walks at the beginning of the work. The contour of this group appears to indicate a

closing gesture that is appropriate to its position near the conclusion of the work.

The complex texture generated by the crisscrossing pairs of walks in mm. 122-

126 results from a synthesis of the paired walks in contrary motion, which were

introduced in mm. 31-36 (see Fig. 8), and the paired walks in similar motion, introduced

in mm. 7-9 (see Fig. 7). The generation of new material through a synthesis of the

characteristics of previous material occurs in several of Xenakis’s works, particularly in

those from about 1970 onward. Such processes of synthesis may represent something of

a bow to musical traditions of developmental transformation. The musical elements that

are transformed in Xenakis’s music do not consist of motives or themes, however, as they

often do in more traditional music. They consist instead of complex configurations, or

“sonic entities,” that are crafted in the composer’s imagination and then evolve within the

context of each composition they inhabit.

2.2 Pitch Materials

The use of pitch materials has evolved in Xenakis’s piano music similarly to the

way it has evolved in his other works. One of the principal features of Xenakis’s

handling of pitch is his deliberate disregard of the traditional notion of octave

equivalence. In contrast to the serial composers and even to his mentor, Messiaen,

Xenakis has tried to liberate his pitch structures from the confines of the octave. In

Xenakis’s conception, pitches represent discrete steps along a continuum of frequencies

that may be compared to the real number line. This continuum moves in a single

direction from low to high, not cyclically in increments of an octave. In chapter 7 of

17
Formalized Music, entitled “Towards a Metamusic,” Xenakis called into question the

primacy of the equal-tempered, octave-based pitch space that had become standardized in

the West since the 18th century. By drawing upon aspects of ancient Greek and

Byzantine theory and proposing a new theory of scales, which he called “sieve theory,”

he pointed toward alternative resources for the structuring of pitch.

While in his instrumental music he has generally tolerated the prevalence of equal

temperament, he has nonetheless tried to override the traditional primacy of the octave by

employing large pitch collections whose boundaries exceed that interval. In order to

manipulate these large pitch structures he has made use of two basic techniques. The first

consists of combining pitch collections to create new pitch collections. This may be

accomplished through the application of standard operations derived from the

mathematical theory of sets. The second technique is the familiar musical transformation

known as transposition.

The basic principles of set theory may be stated quite simply. A set is an

unordered collection of objects or elements that contains no duplicate entries. The

elements are frequently represented by numbers. Although the order of the elements is

non-specific, they are usually listed in ascending order for the sake of convenience. The

standard set-theoretical operations are three in number: union, intersection, and

complementation. These operations are easy to illustrate. To begin with, let there be two

sets of numbers, A and B, that are selected from a larger set, U, the “universal” set. Let

U contain all of the digits from 0 through 9. If A = { 0 3 4 6 7 9 } and B = { 1 2 4 6 7 8

}, then the union () of A and B is the set that contains all of the elements that are found

either in A or in B. Thus, A  B = { 0 1 2 3 4 6 7 8 9 }, i.e. all of the elements in U

18
except for 5, which is contained neither in A nor in B. The intersection () of A and B

contains all of the elements that are found in both A and in B. In the present case, A  B

= { 4 6 7}. Usually the intersection of two sets contains fewer elements than their union,

as is the case here. The complement (~) of a set contains those elements that are not

found in it, but are found in the universal set, U. Thus, ~A = { 1 2 5 8 } and ~B = { 0 3 5

9 }.

The pitch structure of Herma is based on three pitch sets and various

combinations of unions, intersections, and complementations involving them. These sets,

which are labeled A, B, and C in the score, each contain about 30 elements. The

universal or “referential” set in this work, R, consists of the 88 pitches available on the

standard piano keyboard. The theoretical background to the pitch structure of Herma is

discussed in some detail in chapter 6 of Formalized Music, and several authors have

examined the work’s actual pitch structure in light of its theoretical background.17

The second basic method that Xenakis has used for transforming pitch collections

is transposition. In transposition, the intervals between the elements in the collection

remain the same, but the location of the elements within the pitch space is altered. To

take a familiar instance, let us consider the C major scale as a set of pitch names. If C = {

C D E F G A B } and we transpose it up two semitones, we can represent this as T2(C) =

{ D E F# G A B C# }, which we recognize as the D major scale. Similarly, if we

transpose set C down two semitones we obtain T-2(C) = { B C D E F G A}, which is

the B major scale. This operation may be applied to any pitch collection.

Set-theoretic operations and transposition are combined in Xenakis’s sieve

theory.18 This theory was first developed in the mid-1960s, several years after he had

19
written Herma. The designation of “sieve” for this theory represents the selection or

“sifting” of elements from a universal set in order to form specific pitch collections. This

sifting is accomplished through the definition of elementary sets and the performance of

the set-theoretic operations of union, intersection, and complementation upon them. The

elementary sets contain only those elements of the universal set that are related by a

single interval. For example, if we imagine the universal set to consist of all equal-

tempered semitones, we can define an elementary set to be the set of all pitches that are

located five semitones, i.e. a perfect fourth, apart. There are, in fact, five such sets within

the universal set. These may be represented by the ordered pairs of numbers (5, 0), (5, 1),

(5, 2), (5, 3), and (5, 4), where the first number represents the size of the interval and the

second number represents the position of the elements within the universal set. Consider,

for example, the set (5, 0) = {… –15 –10 –5 0 5 10 15 …}. All of the elements in this

set, when divided by 5, yield a remainder of 0. Now consider the set (5, 1) = {… –14 –9

–4 1 6 11 16 …}. All of the elements in this set, when divided by 5, yield a remainder of

1.

The name of the mathematical principle underlying the ordered-pair nomenclature

for the sets is modular arithmetic. The first number in each ordered pair represents the

modulus, or period, of the set; the second number represents the residue, or remainder,

that results when the set’s elements are divided by the modulus. In more intuitively

musical terms, if pitch number 0 is taken to represent middle C, then (5, 0) consists of

middle C and all of the pitches one or more perfect fourths above it and below it. Thus,

using pitch names instead of numbers, (5, 0) = {… A2 D3 G3 C4 F4 B4 E5 …}.19

Similarly, if we let pitch number 1 represent C# above middle C, then (5, 1) = {… A#2

20
D#3 G#3 C#4 F#4 B4 E5 …}. When the number representing the residue is changed, the

result is a transposition of the set.

What has been defined so far is simply an interval cycle, which is represented by

a modulus, and a method for positioning this cycle within the universal set. Sieve theory

becomes more interesting when set-theoretic operations are applied to the interval cycles.

For example, if we define two sets, (5, 0) = {… –15 –10 –5 0 5 10 15 …} and (3, 0) =

{… –15 –12 –9 –6 –3 0 3 6 9 12 15 …}, and take their union, we obtain the more

complex set (5, 0)  (3, 0) = {… –15 –12 –10 –9 –6 –5 –3 0 3 5 6 9 10 12 15 …}. If we

examine the intervals between the elements in this set we find that they form the

succession <… 3 2 1 3 1 2 3 3 2 1 3 1 2 3 …>. The pattern < 3 2 1 3 1 2 3 > occurs twice

in this succession, once between pitches –15 and 0 and once more between 0 and 15.

Each unfolding of this interval succession represents one period of the set (5, 0)  (3, 0).

The length of the period, 15 semitones, is equivalent to the least common multiple of the

set’s moduli, 3 and 5. The period of a set that is constructed in this manner is analogous

to the octave that has traditionally been used to delimit scales. It is certainly possible to

construct octave-based scales with sieve theory, but has Xenakis has usually chosen not

to. A set’s interval succession is unique to the class of sets that contains the original set

and any set that is transpositionally related to it. The method of classification by interval

succession is analogous to the practice of classifying common scales by type, e.g.

diatonic, whole-tone, octatonic, etc.

In the opening portion of Evryali, Xenakis used three sets that were constructed

according to the principles of sieve theory. These sets are shown in musical notation in

Ex. 8. Set A has a period of 10 semitones. Its contents, in numerical notation, are { 0 2 3

21
4 5 7 9 } and its interval succession is < 2 1 1 1 2 2 (1) >. The last interval in the

succession has been placed in parentheses because it is the one that completes the period

and therefore establishes the starting point for the next unfolding of the set. Since the set

begins on middle C (C4), if it were to unfold again within the pitch space it would begin

on B4. Other unfoldings could begin on A5, as well as on D3, etc. Set A comprises all

of the pitch material that is used in the first four measures of Evryali, which are shown in

Ex. 9. The following two sections of the work, extending from m. 5 to the downbeat of

m. 40, draw their pitch material almost entirely from unfoldings of set A across the entire

register of the piano. The beginning of the second section is shown in Ex. 8.

Set B has a period of 11 semitones, just one semitone less than the traditional

octave period. Its contents are { 1 3 4 6 8 9 10 } and its interval succession is < 2 1 2 2 1

1 (2) >. With the exception of its final interval, which is the distance between its highest

pitch and the starting point of the next unfolding of the set, the interval succession of set

B has the same number of semitones and whole steps as does the interval succession of

set A. One might expect there to be a general similarity in sound between them, which is

in fact the case. Set B and its unfoldings across the register of the piano are the basis for

the pitch material in mm. 40-60 of Evryali. Measures 61-64 are based on a transposition

of set B.

Set C has a period of 13 semitones, and is the basis for the pitch material in mm.

66-69 of Evryali. Its contents are { 1 3 6 8 9 10 12 } and its interval succession is < 2 3 2

1 1 2 (2) >. It holds six of its eight pitches in common with set B and has an interval

succession that is similar to those of both sets A and B. Both of these factors contribute

to its similarity in sound to the other two sets. The remainder of the pitch material in

22
Evryali is either entirely chromatic or cannot be related directly to set A, B, or C. Despite

the lack of unity in the pitch structure that this might imply, most of the non-chromatic

sets that are used have interval successions that are made up primarily of semitones and

whole steps. The prevalence of 1s and 2s in the interval successions is reflected in the

work’s rhythmic structure as well, which consists mainly of sixteenth-notes and eighth-

notes. In this way the structure of the interval successions is carried over into the

rhythmic domain, where the basic unit is the sixteenth-note rather than the semitone.

The use of sets constructed according to sieve theory is carried quite a bit further

in Mists. For this work Xenakis constructed a single set whose period is 90 semitones.

This set is subjected to ten transpositions during the course of the work. These eleven

sets—the original plus its ten transpositions—are the source of most of the pitch material

in Mists. The rest of the material consists of pitches drawn directly from the chromatic

pitch space. This chromatic material is restricted to the work’s last six arborescences, the

first of which begins in m. 80. Because of its nearly exclusive use of transpositions of a

single set, the pitch structure of Mists is unified to a greater degree than that of either

Herma or Evryali.

The initial pitch set in Mists is shown in Ex. 10 along with three of its

transpositions. The contents of the initial set, which is labeled A in the example, appear

as they do in the composer’s sketches for the work. The set possesses an ideal structure

that cannot be fully realized in practice. This is because its period of 90 semitones

exceeds the range of the standard piano by two semitones. The pitch D8, which does not

exist on the standard piano keyboard, is therefore shown in parentheses in the example.

This pitch has been included because it is needed in order to complete the set’s distinctive

23
interval succession. This interval succession is < 2 6 2 3 3 5 2 4 3 6 2 3 2 1 5 2 1 5 1 4 4

2 3 1 4 3 2 4 2 (3) >. As before, the final interval, which is enclosed in parentheses,

indicates the distance between the set’s highest pitch and the starting point of the next

unfolding of the set.

The lowest pitch of set A in Ex. 10 is shown as an open notehead. This pitch may

regarded as the origin of the set. Displacement of this origin along the keyboard results

in transpositions of the set. From set A to set B the origin has been moved up 30

semitones, or two-and-a-half octaves, from B0 to E3. Similarly, from set A to set C the

origin has been moved up 38 semitones to C4, and from set A to set D it has been moved

up 10 semitones to G#1. When the set is transposed upward, pitches from its high end

are displaced beyond the upper boundary of the keyboard. These pitches are replaced by

pitches from the set’s previous unfolding, which had formerly been concealed beneath

the lower boundary of the keyboard. Metaphorically, it appears that the pitches that have

been pushed beyond the upper boundary of the keyboard “wrap around” to the lower end,

where they eventually meet up with the displaced origin. The composer refers to this

process of displacement and wrapping around as “cyclic transposition.”20

During cyclic transposition the numbers in the set’s interval succession remain the

same but their positions are shifted one or more places to the right. Intervals that are

displaced beyond the right side of the interval succession wrap around to the left side, just

as the displaced pitches wrap around to the lower end of the keyboard. The interval

succession of set B, for example, is < 4 2 3 1 4 3 2 4 2 3 2 6 2 3 3 5 2 4 3 6 2 3 2 1 5 2 1 5

1 (4) >. In this interval succession, the pattern with which set A’s interval succession

began, i.e. < 2 6 2 3 3 … >, now starts at the eleventh position from the left. It may also

24
be observed that the last ten intervals from set A’s interval succession have wrapped

around to the beginning of set B’s interval succession.

Although a set’s interval succession remains constant under cyclic transposition,

its pitch contents do not. Further, the number and identity of the pitches held in common

between any pair of sets varies according to their level of transposition. Sets A and B, for

example, have 16 pitches in common, including the specious C#8 that is shown in

parentheses in Ex. 10. The 15 common pitches that fall within the range of the keyboard

represent just over half of the contents of each set. Thus, when these sets are presented in

alternation in mm. 1-30 of Mists, a balance is struck between similarity and contrast in

the local pitch structure. Set A is presented from the beginning of the work through the

first beat of m. 16 (see Exx. 7 and 3, respectively). Set B is first introduced in m. 16,

following the end of the arborescence in mm. 14-16 (see Ex. 3). Set A is reintroduced at

the end of m. 18 and continues through the arborescence in mm. 22-24 (see Ex. 4). Set B

returns on the second beat of m. 24 (see again Ex. 4) and continues through m. 26. Set A

returns once more in a four-voice walk in mm. 27-28 and the section concludes with an

arborescence in set B (see Ex. 5). Set B is also used at the beginning of the next section,

which starts in m. 31.

The existence of common tones between the sets is made explicit several times in

Mists through the use of the set-theoretic operation of intersection. For example, the 16

pitches contained in C  D are used in mm. 39-40 to form a transition between the first

part of the work and the largely stochastic second part. This is shown Ex. 11, whose

pitch contents may be compared with the contents of sets C and D in Ex. 10. The set-

theoretic operation of union is also applied in several places, most notably at the return of

25
the random walks in m. 122 (see Fig. 9). The crisscrossing walks in mm. 122-126

contain all of the pitches from both sets A and B and therefore represent A  B.21 The

descending four-voice walk in mm. 126-127, however, contains only the pitches in set B.

2.3 Summary

This section has presented several examples of the musical materials that are used

in Xenakis’s works for piano. The textural materials include stochastic textures,

arborescences, and random walks, all of which are used in Mists. The development of

pitch materials in Xenakis’s piano music is grounded in the mathematical theory of sets.

In the composer’s theory of sieves, the set-theoretical foundation is combined with

modular arithmetic to create a general theory for the formation of musical scales. Both in

its early form, in Herma, and in its later developments in Evryali and Mists, the pitch

structures in Xenakis’s music have revealed the composer’s desire to explore pitch spaces

beyond the confines of traditional octave-based scales.

In the next section, the discussion moves away from isolated musical examples

toward an examination of the ways in which textural and pitch materials work together to

generate form in Mists.

3. Form in Mists

Form is the aspect of musical structure that concerns the temporal unfolding of

events during the course of a work. One of the ways in which the performer and the

listener may experience a work’s form is by sensing the passage of musical time in terms

of a relative location within the total time span of the work. As an attentive listener

26
experiences a work, he or she will tend to formulate specific questions with regard to its

form. These questions may include the following: 1) Has the music proceeded from its

opening section a different, contrasting section? 2) Will the material from the beginning

return at some later point within the work? 3) How do I know if the work is about to

reach its conclusion? Questions of this nature from a hypothetical listener to Mists serve

as the starting point for the following analysis of its form.

In order to gain a general overview of the structure and dynamics of a work’s

form, its duration may be represented spatially, as it is in Fig. 10, which shows a form

diagram for Mists. This diagram focuses on three factors that contribute to the

articulation of form in this work. The first of these factors is the work’s temporal

structure. Time is measured along the horizontal axis in the graph in minutes. The

minute has been chosen as a constant unit of measure because changes in tempo cause the

measures in the score to vary in their duration. The correlation between the measures in

the score and chronological time follows the composer’s metronome markings, although

actual performances may last longer than the eleven minutes indicated in the graph.22

Differences between the ideal and actual duration of the work do not affect its temporal

proportions so long as the faster tempo in mm. 31-40 is accurate with respect to the

tempo of the rest of the work.

The second factor that is represented in the graph is the distribution of textural

materials as the work unfolds in time. Stochastic textures, arborescences, and random

walks are indicated by distinct levels in the upper portion of the graph. One element of

the music’s structure that is not represented on the graph is the use of measured silences.

These silences are distributed throughout the work and are frequently used to separate the

27
arborescences from the surrounding textures. The silences will be taken into account

below, however, when the overall distribution of textural types is considered in the

context of the work’s temporal proportions.

The third and final factor that is represented in the graph is the work’s pitch

structure. The lowest level in the lower portion of the graph represents the initial pitch

set, the one that is designated as set A in Ex. 10. Each of the ten transpositions of this set

is shown in the order of its initial appearance. Of these ten transpositions, three are

shown in musical notation in Ex. 10 as sets B, C, and D. Out of the ninety possible forms

of this set, Xenakis has chosen to present only set A plus ten transpositions, making for

eleven sets in all. The highest level within the lower portion of the graph represents the

chromatic pitch collection, which is used only in the last six arborescences.

Texture is the single most important perceptual factor for dividing Mists into large

sections. The work divides easily into three parts on this basis, as shown in Fig. 10.

Parts 1 and 3 consist of alternations between random walks and arborescences, while part

2 features alternations between stochastic textures and arborescences. Arborescences

thus constitute the common element in all three parts, with the random walks and

stochastic textures providing the contrast that distinguishes the inner from the outer parts.

The form of Mists does not fall easily into the standard ABA’ ternary model, however,

for part 3 is considerably shorter than part 1. Also, part 2 is disproportionately long with

respect to the other two parts. The balanced proportions of the standard ternary model

are not maintained in Mists. Indeed, a different proportional model is employed in this

work, one that will be explained below. For now it is sufficient to note that, despite its

28
unusual proportions, a basically ternary structure is articulated through the return of the

random walks in m. 122.

Texturally, the arborescences play a mediating role between the strict linearity of

the random walks and the disconnected, spatial distribution of pitches and attack points

found in the stochastic textures. In the slowly branching lines of the arborescences at the

beginning of the work and the curved and wavy lines of the chromatic arborescences that

appear later on, a way is found between the strongly directed motion of the walks and the

unpredictable “mists” of notes in the stochastic middle section. The arborescences thus

present a type of texture that is both linear and spatial. It is appropriate, therefore, that

Xenakis has included the dimensions of both pitch and time in his transformations of

these configurations. This is particularly evident in the transformations of reflection and

rotation that are applied in the group of five chromatic arborescences beginning in m. 93.

As the work unfolds in time, the arborescences undergo a continuous series of

transformations. These transformations operate independently of the process of departure

and return that characterizes the temporal unfolding of the random walks. The reader

may recall that the random walks themselves undergo a process of synthesis in part 3.

Beginning at m. 122 the rhythmic structure of the walks at the beginning of part 1 is

combined with the up-and-down contour of the walks found after the tempo change at m.

31. Thus, the random walks as well as the arborescences undergo progressive change

over time. Nonetheless, the reappearance of the walks in m. 122, once again in pitch sets

A and B—the two sets that were associated with the first random walks in mm. 1-28—

results in a modified return of previous material. There is no return to the form of the

arborescences found in part 1, however. Beginning in part 2, the arborescences become

29
associated with the chromatic pitch collection and remain so for the rest of the work. At

the same time that they abandon the pitch sets in favor of the chromatic collection, they

take on a rhythmic structure that is remarkably similar to that of the first several random

walks. When the random walks return in part 3 alongside the last two chromatic

arborescences (in mm. 129-130 and 133-134, respectively), the similarity in their

rhythmic structure becomes all the more evident. Thus, despite the difference in their

pitch materials, a strong structural relationship is established between the chromatic

arborescences and the random walks in part 3.

The transformational process that involves the last five arborescences begins in

part 2 and concludes in part 3 (see Figs. 6 and 10). A relative degree of closure is

achieved within this process by the return of the final arborescence to the register

occupied by the first one. Furthermore, this process accumulates a forward impetus

through a progressive decrease in the time interval between transformations. There are

nearly fifteen measures between the original arborescence in mm. 93-94 and its reflection

in mm. 109-110, as compared with only four measures between the reflection and the

first rotation in mm. 115-116. There is a delay of twelve-and-a-half measures between

the first and second rotations, during which part 2 comes to an end and part 3 begins with

the final random walks. Between the second and third rotations (in mm. 129-130 and

133-134), however, there is only a delay of two measures. Thus, except for the juncture

between parts 2 and 3, the transformations of the small chromatic arborescence appear

closer and closer together in time. A tension is therefore created as the process unfolds,

reaching its peak in the small time interval between the last two arborescences.

30
 The final notes of the last arborescence end the work in a way that is abrupt and

yet appropriate—in fact, almost inevitable—in several respects. As mentioned above,

several factors contribute to the achievement of a relative degree of closure in part 3. To

recapitulate, these include: 1) the conclusion of the transformational process that is

enacted on the small chromatic arborescences; 2) the return of the random walks, which

sum up the structural characteristics of the walks in part 1 but introduce a new,

descending contour; and 3) the establishment of a consistent rhythmic structure

throughout part 3, thus resolving some of the structural differences between the random

walks and the arborescences. All of these factors combine to make for a conclusion that

is both enigmatic and aesthetically satisfying. The convergence of these disparate

structural factors into a successful conclusion, despite the absence of any traditional

means for achieving closure in this music (such as tonal harmonic closure), demonstrates

Xenakis’s ability to create forms that are both dramatic and musically logical.

The formal design that is articulated by changes in texture is reinforced by the

work’s pitch structure. As shown in Fig. 10, the pitch structure in part 1 is limited to the

original set and its first three transpositions. These are the sets A, B, C, and D that are

shown in Ex. 10. The remaining transpositions of the pitch set as well as the chromatic

collection are introduced in part 2. From the standpoint of pitch structure, part 2

represents a “development” with respect to the “exposition” of sets A and B alone in mm.

1-30. Measures 31-40, which are marked by a change of tempo, function as a transition

to the “development.” Sets C and D are first introduced during this transition. (This

occurs just before minute 3 in Fig. 10.) This analogy to the processes of sonata form is

31
certainly superficial, but it does point out that the logic behind the rate of change with

respect to pitch collection in this work is fairly traditional in its broad outlines.

Passages in which the pitches are drawn from two different sets, through the

operations of intersection or union, are indicated in Fig. 10 by the appearance of lines on

two levels simultaneously. The intersection C  D in mm. 39-40 is shown in this way

just before and after minute 3. Likewise, the union A  B in mm. 122-126 is shown

before and after minute 10. Other intersections and unions occur within part 2.

Overall, the progress through the various transpositions of set A resembles a

random walk in which nearly every advance is followed by a reversal of direction. The

last transposition is not reached until shortly before minute 9 (i.e., in m. 108). (The

reader may recall that the highest level within the lower portion of the graph represents

the chromatic pitch collection.) The introduction of this transposition directly follows the

return of set A, which had been absent since part 1, at minute 8 (m. 100). From here the

last transposition enters into a battle of sorts with set A, as both sets vie for pre-eminence.

This battle is interrupted twice by the intrusion of chromatic arborescences, just before

and after minute 9. After the second of these interruptions, a partial intersection between

set A and the last transposition is presented in a brief passage (mm. 117-118) in which

only two pitches sound in the extreme upper register of the keyboard. These pitches, B6

and G7, are reiterated several times at a dynamic level of fff. At this point the struggle

between the two sets has reached its climax. Following this there is a brief relapse into

the last transposition (mm. 119-121) until set A finally wins out, in union with set B, in

the return of the random walks just before minute 10 (m. 122).

32
 To sum up, the pitch structure created by the progress through the transpositions

of set A strongly supports the formal plan of the work that is articulated by the changes in

texture. The return of set A in its original setting as a random walk is anticipated by the

return of that set in the context of stochastic textures near the end of part 2. From this

“premature” return of set A to the appearance of the random walks in m. 122, the pitch

structure and the textural aspect of the music appear to be out of phase with one another.

The realignment of these two aspects of the music at the beginning of part 3 lends

particular weight to the structural return that occurs there.

The music has been analyzed thus far in terms of the traditional categories of

texture and pitch. This analysis is appropriate to the music despite the fact that the

manifestation of each of these characteristics is anything but traditional. In this respect,

Mists is representative of the vast majority of Xenakis’s works. At this point I would like

to take the analysis in a more speculative direction by focusing on the work’s global

temporal proportions. It is well known that Xenakis began his creative work in the field

of architecture, working for several years in the firm of Le Corbusier before undertaking

serious musical composition. Early in his dual career as architect and composer, Xenakis

laid particular stress on the structural analogies between his architectural projects and his

music.23 It is also well known that Le Corbusier aggressively promoted a system of

architectural measurement that he hoped would become a new international standard,

thus overcoming the incompatibilities between the existing metric and English systems.

He based his system, which he called the Modulor, on the golden section and claimed

that it was scaled to the dimensions of the human body. 24 A detailed analysis of

Xenakis’s Metastaseis has shown that indeed its large- and small-scale temporal

33
proportions are based on the golden section in combination with other standard

proportions.25 Studies of other works by Xenakis have yielded similar results.26

Complementing the notion of proportional temporal structures in Xenakis’s music

is his general theory of musical time. This theory has been stated in fragments in several

of the composer’s writings.27 One component of the theory that appears consistently is

the distinction between those aspects of musical structure that are distinguishable only in

their temporal context and those that are independent of any particular temporal context.

The former constitute musical structures in-time and the latter, musical structures outside-

time. As a simple example, consider the distinction between a melody and the scale on

which it is based. The melody has a unique structure in-time, whereas the same scale can

serve as the basis for innumerable melodies. The scale, therefore, has an outside-time

structure that is independent of any of its potential in-time manifestations. With regard to

Mists, one could make a similar distinction between the pitch sets, which have an outside-

time structure, and their in-time manifestations as random walks, arborescences, or

stochastic textures.

If, according to Xenakis’s theoretical and aesthetic perspectives, time can be

organized quantitatively and musical structures can be generated in-time and outside-

time, there exists the possibility that a work’s global temporal structure could be

organized according to the same proportions in both its in-time and outside-time aspects.

Such a correspondence, if it exists, would imply a quasi-Platonic attempt to merge the

realm of ideal forms with the world of concrete realization.28 Correspondences of this

type do indeed exist, not only in Mists, but in all of the works that I have analyzed in

detail.29 As always, the analytical challenge in pointing out the existence of specific

34
proportions in a work’s temporal structure lies in rendering these observations musically

relevant. I will attempt to do so in the following account of the in-time and outside-time

proportions in Mists.

Figure 11 shows two pie graphs. The graph on the left shows the proportion of

the total duration of Mists that is occupied by each of its three parts. Since these are the

formal divisions that one is likely to hear as the work unfolds in time, this graph may be

taken to represent the in-time aspect of the work’s global temporal structure. The graph

on the right shows the proportion of the work’s total duration that is occupied by each of

the three textures and by rests, i.e. measured silences. The proportion of time represented

in each category signifies the cumulative duration for all instances of that texture

regardless of their precise location within the work. The total amount of time devoted to

a given texture may be regarded as a potential structure that must then be realized

compositionally in a particular way. Thus, the total duration of each category exists as a

quantifiable aspect of musical structure that can be manipulated independently from the

temporal flow of the actual music. In this way, duration can be seen as an outside-time

aspect of musical structure. This is, indeed, the way Xenakis regards duration in his

general theory of musical time.30

From the perspective indicated in Fig. 11 it is possible to imagine that the

composer wished to apportion the textures according to a specific plan. Then, by

assigning specific durations to occurrences of each texture he could fill out the

dimensions of a similarly proportioned formal plan. It is reasonable to suppose that this

type of thinking is consistent with the discipline involved in architectural planning, where

economic concerns require that precise quantities of materials be specified in advance of

35
the construction of a building. It cannot be proved that Xenakis worked this way in the

composition of Mists, but it is known that this type of thinking did play a part in the

composition of early works such as Metastaseis. When questioned regarding the

conscious use of proportions in later works, Xenakis has been known to be equivocal.

During an interview that touched on this topic, he is quoted as saying, “Musicologists

may analyze scores and come up with their conclusions—and they may be perfectly

right—but their findings need not indicate anything conscious on my part.”31

Keeping the composer’s partial vote of confidence in the viability of proportional

analysis in mind, let us consider the specific proportions that are observable in the in-time

and outside-time structure of Mists. The table below the graph on the left side of Fig. 11

shows that part 2 (mm. 41-121) occupies 0.62 of the work’s total duration.32 This

proportion is very close to the golden section, which is 0.618034…. The outer two parts

divide the remaining 0.38 of the work’s duration into 0.28 for part 1 and 0.10 for part 3.

In this plan the golden section is placed in the work’s interior rather than dividing it into a

larger and a smaller part, which is the more customary application of this proportion.33

As was mentioned above, part 2 is associated mainly with stochastic textures,

while parts 1 and 3 are associated with random walks. Arborescences, on the other hand,

occur throughout the work. The table and graph on the right side of Fig. 11 show that

stochastic textures make up more than half of the material in the work, occupying 0.54 of

its total duration.34 The rests, on the other hand, occupy the least amount of time, at just

0.9 of the total duration. The stochastic textures and rests combined occupy 0.63 of the

total duration, which is remarkably close to the 0.62 of the duration occupied by part 2 in-

36
time. The random walks and arborescences divide the remaining 0.37 of the duration,

with 0.23 going to the random walks and 0.14 to the arborescences.

Even from an abstract outside-time perspective there seems to be a basic

opposition in Mists between the stochastic textures and the random walks, for each of

these textures dominates the proportion of the work with which it is associated. That is to

say, if 0.63 is interpreted as yet another approximation of the golden section, the

stochastic textures are dominant within the larger part as the random walks are within the

shorter part. It may well be that the composer had this basic opposition of materials and

this proportional plan in mind when he conceived and realized this work. Then again,

perhaps not. I will leave it to the reader to decide which is the more likely alternative.

4. Conclusion

This essay has been an attempt to demystify, at least partially, the structure of a

beautiful and complex piano work by Xenakis. Mists has been approached through a

demonstration of the basic features of Xenakis’s writing for piano, followed by an

examination of its structural features in isolation and in combination. The analysis

concluded with some speculations about the relationship between the form of Mists and

Xenakis’s general theory of musical time.

Like many of Xenakis’s works, Mists demonstrates the use of relative

indeterminacy at a local level countered by a large-scale structure that is robust and

simple in its general outlines. It is possible to interpret the contrast between these

apparently incompatible structural traits as evidence of a conflict between a desire for

order and an attraction to the excitement that may be engendered by disorder. Whether

37
real or only apparent, this conflict could be taken as evidence of a structural

contradiction, revealing the music to be at cross-purposes with itself.

On the other hand, the differences in the structural levels of Xenakis’s music and

the resulting tensions between them may be seen, and heard, in terms of an aesthetically

stimulating dramatic conflict. From this perspective, the apparent structural conflicts in

Xenakis’s works could be regarded as artistic manifestations of an archetypal battle. This

is the battle that occurs again and again as an expression of the struggle for existence that

has occupied him ever since his participation in the Greek Resistance nearly cost him his

life. In different ways throughout his career, Xenakis has looked to the traditions of

ancient Greek philosophy and drama for inspiration. For all the peculiarities of his

musical materials and the originality of his style, at a basic level Xenakis has remained

true to his Hellenic origins. As he once remarked, “I am a classical Greek living in the

twentieth century.”35

NOTES
1
See Xenakis (1992, chap. 6; 1967, preface). Analyses of Herma by other authors include Sward (1981),
Uno (1994, 1995), and Montague (1995).
2
For overviews of this period in Xenakis’s career, see Matossian (1986, chap. 12) and Solomos (1996, Part
I, sect. 8). Published articles on Evryali include Hill (1975), Bucquet (1981), and Couroux (1994). A
detailed structural analysis of Evryali may be found in Squibbs (1997). Psappha has been analyzed by
Flint (1989, 1993).
3
See Xenakis (1981, preface).
4
I am indebted to Scott McCoy for first drawing my attention to the presence of material from Mists in à r.
For an analysis of à r., see Squibbs (1997, chaps. 1 and 3).
5
Previous analyses of Mists include Castanet (1986), McCoy (1993), and Squibbs (1997, chap. 3).
6
See Hill (1975), Bucquet (1981), and Couroux (1994). When questioned on this topic during an
interview, Xenakis responded, “[T]here are works, such as Synaphaï, where it’s up to the soloist whether he
plays all the notes or leaves some out. Of course, I prefer it if he plays them all. … [F]or all their difficulty,
the pieces can be performed. In order for the artist to master the technical requirements he has to master
himself. Technique is not only a question of muscles, but also of nerves.” Quoted in Varga (1996, 65-6).
7
For an introduction to the aesthetics and techniques of stochastic composition, see Xenakis (1992, chap.
1). A description of the process of stochastic composition is given in Squibbs (1997, chap. 2).
8
Most of Xenakis’s works bear Greek titles. It is possible that Xenakis chose an English title for this work
as a tribute to its dedicatee, the Australian pianist and conductor Roger Woodward.
9
Other examples of attack-point notation may be found in the stochastic portions of Tetras for string
quartet (1983). For an analysis of this work, see Harley (1996).

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10
Xenakis (1981, preface).
11
Quoted in Xenakis (1992, 8). “The Crisis of Serial Music” originally appeared in the short-lived
periodical Gravesaner Blätter. A reprint of the full text of the article may be found in Xenakis (1994, 39-
43).
12
Another work that features the dialectic between arborescences as realized on the piano and on string
instruments is Erikhthon for piano and orchestra (1974). A portion of this work has been graphed in
Hoffmann (1994, 60).
13
I am grateful to Scott McCoy, who kindly lent me the photocopy of the sketches for Mists that he
obtained from Editions Salabert.
14
Compare, for example, the transformations of the durations of individual notes in Messiaen (1956, chaps.
3-4). Xenakis studied with Messiaen at the Paris Conservatoire in the early 1950s.
15
The degree values of these rotations correspond to those given in Hoffmann (1994, 53, n. 23).
16
Whitney (1991, 37).
17
The most thorough and reliable examination of the relationship between concept and realization in the
pitch structure of Herma is found in Montague (1995). Sward (1981) and Uno (1994) have also examined
the pitch structure of Herma in some detail.
18
See Xenakis (1992, chaps. 7, 8, 11, 12).
19
The system of pitch nomenclature used here is the one proposed by the Acoustical Society of America.
In this system, pitch classes are indicated by their traditional letter names and the octave positions of the
pitches are denoted by numbers. All octaves begin with C and conclude with B. Thus, middle C is C4 and
the B above it is B4. The semitone below C4 may be designated as B3 or C4. Similarly, the semitone
above B3 is either B#3 or C4.
20
Xenakis (1981, preface).
21
For a more detailed account of the use of the operations of union and intersection in Mists, see Squibbs
(1997, chap. 3).
22
Claude Helffer’s recording of Mists on Disques Montaigne 2 CD 782005 has a timing of 12’26”. At the
head of the score the composer indicates the duration to be ca. 12’ (Xenakis [1981]). This timing
corresponds more closely to Helffer’s recorded performance than to the duration of ca. 11’ that would
result from strict adherence to the composer’s metronome markings.
23
See Xenakis (1992, chap. 1) and Xenakis’s remarks on Metastaseis that are included in the appendix to
Le Corbusier (1958).
24
See Le Corbusier (1954, 1958).
25
Baltensperger (1996).
26
Flint (1989) and Squibbs (1997).
27
See Xenakis (1992, chaps. 6, 8, 10).
28
Cf. the account of the transition from primitive chaos to the ordered universe in Plato (1977, 72-3):
“Before that time [the elements] were all without proportion or measure…and [God’s] first step when he
set about reducing them to order was to give them a definite pattern of shape and number.”
29
Squibbs (1997).
30
See Xenakis (1992, chap. 6).
31
Varga (1996, 294).
32
The calculations are based on a total duration of 10’54.677”. The durations of the parts are: part 1 –
3’04.667”; part 2 – 6’45”; part 3 – 1’05”.
33
On various musical manifestations of the golden section, see Howat (1983).
34
The durations on which these calculations are based are: random walks – 2’29.479”; arborescences –
1’33.852”; stochastic textures – 5’50.938”; rests – 1’00.398”.
35
This statement, attributed to Xenakis, heads the opening chapter of Matossian (1986).

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39
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Excerpts from Herma (© 1967, Boosey & Hawkes), Evryali (© 1974, Editions Salabert), and Mists (©
1981, Editions Salabert) reprinted with permission.

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