Considering that painters can paint whatever they wish, the number of art genres is surprisingly small: portrait, nude, landscape, seascape, still life, abstract.

The number of musical forms is also small: fugue, rondo, sonata-allegro. Those are journey forms: you're here, you depart, you come back. That simple.

Simpler yet: theme & variations. A tune gets repeated, each time differently. Instead of journeying, you stay in the same place and watch things change. Simple.

The forms are easy to explain. Employing the forms effectively is tricky.

It's like chess. Explaining how chess is played takes only a few minutes. But playing the game well? Hoo boy.

Tunes come easily to me. Figuring out what to do with them, how to make them function in a larger form, that's where the work is.

I've tinkered with musical forms for fifty years. I've particularly relished my attempts at theme and variations.

There are a handful of helpful tricks to be learned from the Great Ones who mastered this form. Use a simple tune. Vary the meter. Ornament the tune with grace notes. Put at least one variation in a minor key. Alternate the character of the variations between poignant and humorous, dramatic and understated. Structure the whole piece so that the variations seem to be going somewhere, heading for a destination. We can tolerate repetition in music, as in life, only so long as we sense that there is a larger purpose being served, a direction unfolding.

Most of my music is programmatic; which is to say that it is ostensibly "about" something non-musical.

But the piece I want to share today is not about anything; it is only about itself. I think that when you listen to it you will sense that it is moving from a charming innocence at the beginning to a radiant resignation at the end.

Robert Frost said, "A poem should begin in delight and end in wisdom." That's what I aimed for in my Theme and Six Variations. See what you think.

5/18/14 - To hear harpsichordist Barbara Harbach play Theme with Six Variations, -- and very beautifully, too! -- click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

Rick Sowash
Cincinnati, OH
May 18, 2014

🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶

Considering that painters can paint anything that is visible, the number of art genres is surprisingly few: portrait, history, landscape, still life, abstract.

Musical forms are also few in number: fugue, A-B-A, rondo, sonata-allegro. Those are ‘journey’ forms: we're ‘here’, we go ‘there’, we return. Simple.

Simpler yet: theme & variations. A tune is repeated, each time with a twist. No journeying; we stay in the same place and observe how the tune is varied. Simple.

Why should composers fuss over forms? Invent good tunes and let it go at that. No one will complain.

Tunes always came easily to me. I can make tunes out of telephone numbers, a great parlor trick. Substitute “1 - 2 - 3” for “doh - re - mi,” etc. Then ask who has a telephone number without zeroes of nines. Hands go up. Call on someone and they might say, 853-5812, or whatever. In the key of C, 8’s are C, 5 is a G, 3 is an E, etc. Presto! A tune is born!

It can be a thundering march, a Romantic ballad, a lilting waltz, an Eastern European folk dance, whatever. People are amazed. For me, it’s easy-peasy. “If you can do it, there’s nothing to it.”

A piece of music consisting of a string of good tunes can be very effective -- so long as the duration is short. Consider most pop music, Broadway songs, jazz, Dixieland. Consider Sousa marches or Joplin rags or Strauss waltzes. Wonderful music, don’t get me wrong! There’s a reason why they are over in three minutes. Sousa and Joplin open with a catchy tune and repeat it once. Then comes a second tune, repeated. A third tune, repeated. Sousa ends there; Joplin sometimes adds a fourth tune. And we’re done. Everybody is happy.

But what if there was a fifth tune, repeated, a sixth, a seventh? … What if a Sousa march went on for 15 minutes? We’d go nuts. The piece would become wearisome because we would feel pounded by tunes that refuse to go anywhere, to alter and grow, to return. Such music would seem inconsequential, almost devoid of significance, not worth our time, even annoying.

Figuring out what to do with good tunes, how to make them function in a way that “takes” listeners “somewhere,” that prompts a sense that something significant is happening … that’s what composers do. That’s what separates composers from song-writers.

Again, I beg not to be misunderstood. I love songs. I’ve written about 85 of them. Only a few are longer than three minutes. I am trying to describe the challenge of writing music in larger forms.

Of the larger musical forms, ‘theme-and-variations’ is the easiest to master. Easy, yet intriguing.

The Great Masters who employed this form have taught we later composers some helpful tricks:

— The theme must be simple, sincere and convincing but it must also have some little twist, kink or wrinkle that listeners can delight in as they perceive how that little eccentricity is treated in each of the variations that will follow the theme’s opening statement.

— Ornament the notes of the tune with neighboring notes, say a half-step above or below.

— Vary the meter and the tempo. Render the theme as a waltz, a polka, a hymn, a march.

— As the themes are almost always in a major key, cast at least one variation in a minor key.

— Alternate the character of the variations, zigzagging between poignant and humorous, dramatic and understated, complex and simple, bold and dreamy, florid and spare.

— Arrange the variations in such a way that the piece-as-a-whole seems to be going somewhere, i.e., strive to convey the illusion that the music is moving toward a destination. In music, as in life, we will tolerate repetition only so long as we sense that our patience will be rewarded; in music, the feeling that a destination has been reached is the reward.

As you listen to my little “Theme & Six Variations,” I think you will sense that it is moving from a state of charming innocence at the beginning to a wise and radiant serenity at the end, words which might also serve as the definition of a life well-lived.

Robert Frost said, "A poem should begin in delight and end in wisdom." That's what I aimed to do in this piece. See what you think.

To hear harpsichordist Barbara Harbach play Theme with Six Variations, -- and very expressively, too! -- click on the link above.

After the recording was made, I revised the piece somewhat. If you follow the score, you’ll find it somewhat at odds with what you’re hearing. Still, it might be fun for you to see how a composer revises his own work. Also, you’ll notice that Barbara arpeggiates almost every chord to highlight the character of the harpsichord. Fine with me. To see a PDF of the score in its final form, click on the link above.