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Essays Before a Sonata: The Majority and Other Writings
Ives's second piano sonata, Concord, Mass., 1845 , stands among the masterpieces of American music. The Essays Before a Sonata was conceived by Ives as a preface of sorts to the composition. Ives's musings also explore the nature of music, discuss the source of a composer's impulses and inspiration, and offer some biting comments on celebrated masters. The writings in this collection―now featuring a comprehensive index-allow readers entry into the brilliant mind that produced some of America's most innovative musical works.
- GenresMusicNonfiction
286 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1920
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About the author
Charles Ives
141 books6 followersCharles Edward Ives (October 20, 1874 – May 19, 1954) was an American modernist composer, one of the first American composers of international renown. His music was largely ignored during his early life, and many of his works went unperformed for many years. Later in life, the quality of his music was publicly recognized, and he came to be regarded as an "American original". He was also among the first composers to engage in a systematic program of experimental music, with musical techniques including polytonality, polyrhythm, tone clusters, aleatory elements, and quarter tones. His experimentation foreshadowed many musical innovations that were later more widely adopted during the 20th century. Hence, he is often regarded as the leading American composer of art music of the 20th century.
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June 24, 2024
A FINE COLLECTION OF THE WRITINGS OF THE FIRST GREAT AMERICAN COMPOSER
Charles Edward Ives (1874-1954) was the first truly original and significant American composer. This book contains a number of his writings, of which the most important is his ‘Essays Before a Sonata,’ which was to accompany the score of his Second Piano Sonata (subtitled ‘"Concord, Mass., 1840-60’), which he self-published.
Editor Howard Boatwright wrote in the Foreword to this 1970 book, “most of what Ives wrote in words did not concern music directly… But he used words to provide the general philosophical support for his compositions, and, of course, words were the principal weapon when his idealism lead him (around 1918) away from attempting to reform the musical conventions of his youth towards attacking the weaknesses of our national and international life, as he saw them.” (Pg. viii)
He adds in the Introductory Note, “Ives deliberately chose a profession other than music to avoid the necessity of having to sell his compositions (he knew that unless he compromised, he could not sell them), and never in his life was he able to resign himself to any contract likely to bring him any profit from that source. The impact of [Thoreau’s] ‘Walden’ on his conscience never left him, in spite of his successful career in the business circles of New York.” (Pg. xvi)
Ives himself explains in the Preface to the Essays, “The following pages were written primarily as a preface or reason for the (writer’s) second pianoforte sonata--- ‘Concord, Mass., 1845’---a group of four pieces, called a sonata for want of a more exact name, as the form, perhaps substance, does not justify it. The music and prefaces were intended to be printed together, but as it was found that this would make a cumbersome volume, they are separate. The whole is an attempt to present (one person’s) impression of the spirit of transcendentalism that is associated in the minds of many with Concord, Mass., of over a half century ago. This is undertaken in impressionistic pictures of Emerson and Thoreau, a sketch of the Alcotts, and a scherzo supposed to reflect a lighter quality which is often found in the fantastic side of Hawthorne.” (Pg. xxv)
In the essay on Emerson, Ives observes, “It has seemed to the writer that Emerson is greater----his identity more complete, perhaps---in the realms or revelation---natural disclosure---than in those of poetry, philosophy, or prophecy. Though a great poet and prophet, he is greater, possibly, as an invader of the unknown---America’s deepest explorer of the spiritual immensities---a seer painting his discoveries in masses and with any color that may lie at hand---cosmic, religious, human, even sensuous; a recorder freely describing the inevitable struggle in the soul’s uprise, perceiving from this inward source alone that ‘every ultimate fact is only the first of a new series.’” (Pg. 11)
He concludes, “There is an ‘oracle’ at the beginning of the Fifth Symphony; in those four notes lies one of Beethoven’s greatest messages. We would place its translation above the restlessness of fate knocking at the door, above the greater human message of destiny, and strive to bring it towards the spiritual message of Emerson’s revelations, even to the ‘common heart’ of Concord---the soul of humanity knocking at the door of the divine mysteries, radiant in the faith that it WILL be opened---and the human become the divine!” (Pg. 36)
Of Hawthorne, he observes, “The substance of Hawthorne is so dripping wet with the supernatural, the phantasmal, the mystical, so surcharged with adventures, from the deeper picturesque to the illusive fantastic, that one unconsciously finds oneself thinking of him as a poet of greater imaginative impulse then Emerson or Thoreau. He was not a greater poet, possibly, than they---but a greater artist.” (Pg. 39) He continues, Hawthorne feels the mysteries, and tries to paint them rather than explain them… This fundamental part of Hawthorne is not attempted in our music… which is but an ‘extended fragment’ trying to suggest some of his wilder, fantastical adventures into the half-childlike, half-fairylike phantasmal realms.” (Pg. 41-42)
Of the Alcotts, he explains, “the Alcott house… seems to stand as a kind of homely but beautiful witness of Concord’s common virtue… a consciousness that its past is LIVING… Within the house, on every side, lie remembrances of what imagination can do for the better amusement of fortunate children who have to do for themselves… And there sits the little old spinet piano Sophia Thoreau gave to the Alcott children, on which Beth played the old Scotch airs, and played at the Fifth Symphony.” (Pg. 45-47)
Of Thoreau, he says, “Thoreau was a great musician, not because he played the flute but because he did not have to go to Boston to hear ‘the Symphony.’ The rhythm of his prose, were there nothing else, would determine his value as a composer. He was divinely conscious of the enthusiasm of Nature, the emotion of her rhythms, and the harmony of her solitude. In this consciousness he sang of the submission to Nature, the religion of contemplation, and the freedom of simplicity---a philosophy distinguishing between the complexity of Nature, which teaches freedom, and the complexity of materialism, which teaches slavery.” (Pg. 51)
He adds, “You may know something of the affection that heart yearned for but knew it a duty not to grasp---you may know something of the great human passions which stirred that soul---too deep for animate expression---you may know all of this---all there is to know about Thoreau…but you know him not---unless you love him!” (Pg. 67)
He laments, “The instrument!---there is the perennial difficulty---there is music’s limitation. Why must the scarecrow of the keyboard---the tyrant in terms of the mechanism… stare into every measure? Is it the composer’s fault that man has only ten fingers? Why can’t a musical thought be presented as it is born…[?]” (Pg. 84)
In his essay, ‘Some Quarter-Tone Impressions,’ he observes, “But quarter-tones or no quarter-tones, why tonality as such should be thrown out for good, I can’t see. Why it should be always present, I can’t see. It depends, it seems to me, a good deal… on what one is trying to do…” (Pg. 117)
In his ‘Postface to 114 Songs’ (the manuscripts of which he had privately printed), he explains, “The printing of this collection was undertaken primarily in order to have a few clear copies that could be sent to friends who from time to time have been interested enough to ask for copies of some of the songs, but the job has grown into something different; it contains plenty of songs which have not been and will not be asked for. It stands now, if it stands for anything, as a kind of ‘buffer state’---an opportunity for evading a question somewhat embarrassing to answer: ‘Why do you write so much---which no one ever sees?’ There are several good reasons, none of which are worth recording.” (Pg. 123)
In ‘The Majority,’ he says, “The open mind of the Majority (the People) has been to a great extent over-supervised by the timidity of the closed mind of the Minority (the Non-People); for the Minority is selfish and the Majority is generous.” (Pg. 143) Later, he adds, “The world’s greater minds have always been of the Majority---not IN the Majority, but always OF it.” (Pg. 156)
In ‘A People’s World Nation,’ he proposes, “The first great move for the people of this world to make now is to build a People’s World Union… (or call it the United States of the World), under whose constitution each country will be free to live its own native life, and the people free to work out for themselves their own problems is a fair, open-minded ‘will-of-the-people way’… No country shall try by force to capture another country… No country shall join another country unless it shall be by the open, fair, and direct will of the people of all countries concerned.” (Pg. 228)
This book will be “must reading” for anyone seriously studying Ives and his music.
Charles Edward Ives (1874-1954) was the first truly original and significant American composer. This book contains a number of his writings, of which the most important is his ‘Essays Before a Sonata,’ which was to accompany the score of his Second Piano Sonata (subtitled ‘"Concord, Mass., 1840-60’), which he self-published.
Editor Howard Boatwright wrote in the Foreword to this 1970 book, “most of what Ives wrote in words did not concern music directly… But he used words to provide the general philosophical support for his compositions, and, of course, words were the principal weapon when his idealism lead him (around 1918) away from attempting to reform the musical conventions of his youth towards attacking the weaknesses of our national and international life, as he saw them.” (Pg. viii)
He adds in the Introductory Note, “Ives deliberately chose a profession other than music to avoid the necessity of having to sell his compositions (he knew that unless he compromised, he could not sell them), and never in his life was he able to resign himself to any contract likely to bring him any profit from that source. The impact of [Thoreau’s] ‘Walden’ on his conscience never left him, in spite of his successful career in the business circles of New York.” (Pg. xvi)
Ives himself explains in the Preface to the Essays, “The following pages were written primarily as a preface or reason for the (writer’s) second pianoforte sonata--- ‘Concord, Mass., 1845’---a group of four pieces, called a sonata for want of a more exact name, as the form, perhaps substance, does not justify it. The music and prefaces were intended to be printed together, but as it was found that this would make a cumbersome volume, they are separate. The whole is an attempt to present (one person’s) impression of the spirit of transcendentalism that is associated in the minds of many with Concord, Mass., of over a half century ago. This is undertaken in impressionistic pictures of Emerson and Thoreau, a sketch of the Alcotts, and a scherzo supposed to reflect a lighter quality which is often found in the fantastic side of Hawthorne.” (Pg. xxv)
In the essay on Emerson, Ives observes, “It has seemed to the writer that Emerson is greater----his identity more complete, perhaps---in the realms or revelation---natural disclosure---than in those of poetry, philosophy, or prophecy. Though a great poet and prophet, he is greater, possibly, as an invader of the unknown---America’s deepest explorer of the spiritual immensities---a seer painting his discoveries in masses and with any color that may lie at hand---cosmic, religious, human, even sensuous; a recorder freely describing the inevitable struggle in the soul’s uprise, perceiving from this inward source alone that ‘every ultimate fact is only the first of a new series.’” (Pg. 11)
He concludes, “There is an ‘oracle’ at the beginning of the Fifth Symphony; in those four notes lies one of Beethoven’s greatest messages. We would place its translation above the restlessness of fate knocking at the door, above the greater human message of destiny, and strive to bring it towards the spiritual message of Emerson’s revelations, even to the ‘common heart’ of Concord---the soul of humanity knocking at the door of the divine mysteries, radiant in the faith that it WILL be opened---and the human become the divine!” (Pg. 36)
Of Hawthorne, he observes, “The substance of Hawthorne is so dripping wet with the supernatural, the phantasmal, the mystical, so surcharged with adventures, from the deeper picturesque to the illusive fantastic, that one unconsciously finds oneself thinking of him as a poet of greater imaginative impulse then Emerson or Thoreau. He was not a greater poet, possibly, than they---but a greater artist.” (Pg. 39) He continues, Hawthorne feels the mysteries, and tries to paint them rather than explain them… This fundamental part of Hawthorne is not attempted in our music… which is but an ‘extended fragment’ trying to suggest some of his wilder, fantastical adventures into the half-childlike, half-fairylike phantasmal realms.” (Pg. 41-42)
Of the Alcotts, he explains, “the Alcott house… seems to stand as a kind of homely but beautiful witness of Concord’s common virtue… a consciousness that its past is LIVING… Within the house, on every side, lie remembrances of what imagination can do for the better amusement of fortunate children who have to do for themselves… And there sits the little old spinet piano Sophia Thoreau gave to the Alcott children, on which Beth played the old Scotch airs, and played at the Fifth Symphony.” (Pg. 45-47)
Of Thoreau, he says, “Thoreau was a great musician, not because he played the flute but because he did not have to go to Boston to hear ‘the Symphony.’ The rhythm of his prose, were there nothing else, would determine his value as a composer. He was divinely conscious of the enthusiasm of Nature, the emotion of her rhythms, and the harmony of her solitude. In this consciousness he sang of the submission to Nature, the religion of contemplation, and the freedom of simplicity---a philosophy distinguishing between the complexity of Nature, which teaches freedom, and the complexity of materialism, which teaches slavery.” (Pg. 51)
He adds, “You may know something of the affection that heart yearned for but knew it a duty not to grasp---you may know something of the great human passions which stirred that soul---too deep for animate expression---you may know all of this---all there is to know about Thoreau…but you know him not---unless you love him!” (Pg. 67)
He laments, “The instrument!---there is the perennial difficulty---there is music’s limitation. Why must the scarecrow of the keyboard---the tyrant in terms of the mechanism… stare into every measure? Is it the composer’s fault that man has only ten fingers? Why can’t a musical thought be presented as it is born…[?]” (Pg. 84)
In his essay, ‘Some Quarter-Tone Impressions,’ he observes, “But quarter-tones or no quarter-tones, why tonality as such should be thrown out for good, I can’t see. Why it should be always present, I can’t see. It depends, it seems to me, a good deal… on what one is trying to do…” (Pg. 117)
In his ‘Postface to 114 Songs’ (the manuscripts of which he had privately printed), he explains, “The printing of this collection was undertaken primarily in order to have a few clear copies that could be sent to friends who from time to time have been interested enough to ask for copies of some of the songs, but the job has grown into something different; it contains plenty of songs which have not been and will not be asked for. It stands now, if it stands for anything, as a kind of ‘buffer state’---an opportunity for evading a question somewhat embarrassing to answer: ‘Why do you write so much---which no one ever sees?’ There are several good reasons, none of which are worth recording.” (Pg. 123)
In ‘The Majority,’ he says, “The open mind of the Majority (the People) has been to a great extent over-supervised by the timidity of the closed mind of the Minority (the Non-People); for the Minority is selfish and the Majority is generous.” (Pg. 143) Later, he adds, “The world’s greater minds have always been of the Majority---not IN the Majority, but always OF it.” (Pg. 156)
In ‘A People’s World Nation,’ he proposes, “The first great move for the people of this world to make now is to build a People’s World Union… (or call it the United States of the World), under whose constitution each country will be free to live its own native life, and the people free to work out for themselves their own problems is a fair, open-minded ‘will-of-the-people way’… No country shall try by force to capture another country… No country shall join another country unless it shall be by the open, fair, and direct will of the people of all countries concerned.” (Pg. 228)
This book will be “must reading” for anyone seriously studying Ives and his music.
March 3, 2019
"El compositor escribió estos ensayos para los que no pueden soportar su música, y la música para los que no pueden soportar sus ensayos; a los que no pueden soportar ambos, se les dedica respetuosamente la totalidad de la obra.
(...) ¿Por qué la música no puede salir igual que entra en un hombre, sin necesidad de trepar por una cerca de sonidos, tórax, cuerdas, alambre, madera y latón? Las quintas consecutivas son tan inofensivas como las leyes azules. La música así debe ser oída, no es esencial: el modo como suena puede ser lo que no es. Tal vez llegue el día en que los creyentes en la música aprenderán que el silencio es un disolvente que nos permite ser universales y no personales"
(...) ¿Por qué la música no puede salir igual que entra en un hombre, sin necesidad de trepar por una cerca de sonidos, tórax, cuerdas, alambre, madera y latón? Las quintas consecutivas son tan inofensivas como las leyes azules. La música así debe ser oída, no es esencial: el modo como suena puede ser lo que no es. Tal vez llegue el día en que los creyentes en la música aprenderán que el silencio es un disolvente que nos permite ser universales y no personales"
September 22, 2013
A collection of Ives' most polished and complete writings -- except for technical work for insurance agents. The "Essays" help put the Sonata in context -- I'm not sure if Ives has any unique insight into the NE transcendentalists, but his love for them is contagious. And it's interesting to see how his formal modernism is wedded to a deeply religious optimistic Romanticism. The political and economic writings develop from the thought of the Essays -- the basic idea is that the universal mind manifests itself through democracy and the initiation of referenda based on good old fashioned horse sense would bring something like a Messianic era of peace and prosperity. The volume includes a terse letter from WH Taft dismissing the idea and Ives' impassioned response. Taft is skeptical of the possibility of the true majority will being expressed through quick referenda -- Ives doesn't seem to have thought much about the dangers of big money manipulating public opinion. But we don't read this book to get a theory of democratic deliberation. We read it to help get to know the man Ives. For that I think the Memos is a better read, but this volume shows you the ideas Ives was working with, as he himself worked them through.
March 15, 2013
I was less interested in the main essays here (too much pontificating, not enough on his compositional method), and more interested in his essay "Some quarter-tone impressions". I always found it fascinating that Ives created quarter-tone music decades before anyone else. I like his comments on "a chord of five notes of equal five-quarter-tone intervals) which I'd like to investigate more. I also like these quotes:
"structure built primarily on a progression of chords...of relative intervals seems more and more to hold up that organic flow...we may go perhaps to a series of chords, each different, occurring in cyclic repetition."
"structure built primarily on a progression of chords...of relative intervals seems more and more to hold up that organic flow...we may go perhaps to a series of chords, each different, occurring in cyclic repetition."
October 2, 2025
I was exposed to this book in a singular and strange class on the cosmic struggle of American intellectualism and its antipode. It was taught by a composer and included lessons and ruminations on religion, history, and all forms of art.
I found Ives' requisite readings for the class mind-blowing in the perverse sense of not grokking his jive so it just kind of becoming numb and confused. But I'm returning to his writings and music with a willing heart and enjoying this great and famous man's synthesizing energies.
I found Ives' requisite readings for the class mind-blowing in the perverse sense of not grokking his jive so it just kind of becoming numb and confused. But I'm returning to his writings and music with a willing heart and enjoying this great and famous man's synthesizing energies.
May 22, 2013
a weird, uneven composer who I feel a strong attachment to.
the essays for the Concord sonata are basically a composers take on late 19th century literary/philosophical movements in American thought - but within them some pretty amazing thoughts for how to make a modern sound - the quarter tone essay is a lovely one too... the political stuff can feel a little dull to be honest, Direct Democracy etc.; but important documents nonetheless.
the essays for the Concord sonata are basically a composers take on late 19th century literary/philosophical movements in American thought - but within them some pretty amazing thoughts for how to make a modern sound - the quarter tone essay is a lovely one too... the political stuff can feel a little dull to be honest, Direct Democracy etc.; but important documents nonetheless.
June 18, 2013
Ives rambles quite a bit and his thinking about music and philosophy is very much of his time and as a result, seems very old fashioned now. Yet, it is compelling to read a composer's thoughts on music and aesthetics, and to read him as he waxes poetic on subjects that mean a lot to him. I read this in the same week that I heard the Concord sonata live for the first time, which added some thing to both experiences.
June 14, 2008
Oh, Ives. I liked it so much, I wrote my thesis on it. As far as general interest...hmmm. He is not insane. His writing is lively, cranky, and hilarious; autodidactism at its best. And the essay on Thoreau is truly lovely and heartfelt. If you like Ives's music, give it a spin. He's a right funny old (genius) coot.
January 4, 2020
Just read the Epilogue, which has some thought provoking ideas about music and art making.
October 7, 2023
Ives is more loveable than many dour and puritanical New Englanders
But the guy just exudes “Connecticut Yankee descended from a long line of Connecticut Yankees.”
But the guy just exudes “Connecticut Yankee descended from a long line of Connecticut Yankees.”
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews