(Photos and Pictures see German version)

Conlon Nancarrow - Composer for Player Piano

Precursor of Computer Music

Jürgen Hocker©

Introduction

Ever since musical instruments have existed, people have tried to construct instruments which play by themselves. Thus descriptions of self-playing instruments are to be found in Ancient Greece (Heron’s self-playing organ pipes in Alexandria) and in Araby (the Musa brothers’ automatic flute-player from Bagdad). The oldest surviving mechanical musical instruments are glockenspiels (carillons) of the late Middle Ages. Many composers also discovered the charm of these instruments very early and composed pieces for them; for example, there are works by Händel, C.P.E. Bach, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven for small self-playing organs which were usually built into the cases of grandfather clocks (so called „flute clocks“). The „music machinist“ Johann Nepomuk Mälzel (today famous for but falsely credited with the invention of the metronome) even created at the beginning of the 19th century a whole self-playing orchestra, the „Panharmonikon“ and Ludwig van Beethoven composed his „Wellingtons Sieg oder die Schlacht bei Vittoria“ op. 91 for this instrument.

In the following 100 years self-playing instruments were largely ignored by composers. It was not until the beginning of the 20th century that self-playing instruments began to reawake interest again as a result of a pioneering invention: in 1904 the firm of Welte in Freiburg succeeded in recording the original performance of a pianist on perforated paper and reproducing it by means of corresponding instruments with all dynamic and agogic details. Many pianists - including many pupils of Liszt - and also several composers used this procedure in order to make their piano-playing accessible to a wide spectrum of the population; and this at a time when it was not yet possible to record the sound of a piano satisfactorily on disc. Thus we posses today perforated music rolls with interpretations by d’Albert, Busoni, Paderewski, Godowsky, Grieg, Reger, Debussy, Ravel and others. Even the brilliant technique of the young Horowitz can again be brought to life in sound by means of perforated rolls.

The firm of Welte in Freiburg, inventor of the reproducing piano and manufacturer of self-playing organs and orchestrions, gave several composers in the 1920s in their „music rooms“ the opportunity to become acquainted with self-playing instruments and „draw“ original compositions on paper rolls. The punching-out of the rolls was then done by experienced members of the firm. In close co-operation with Welte the music committee of the „Kammermusik-Aufführungen zur Förderung zeitgenössischer Tonkunst“ in Donaueschingen decided to dedicate a major part of its events of the years 1926 and 1927 (at the time the venue was temporarily Baden-Baden) to mechanical music. On 16 July 1927 one of the concerts of this chamber-music festival was even dedicated exclusively to „original compositions for mechanical instruments“ (here mechanical piano and mechanical organ). In addition to the Fantasia in F minor for mechanical organ by W.A. Mozart, a Suite for Mechanical Organ by Paul Hindemith, which has since disappeared, and a Study for Mechanical Organ by Ernst Toch were performed. Also represented were Nicolai Lopatnikoff with a Toccata and a Scherzo for mechanical piano and Hans Haass with a 6-voice Fugue, played at breakneck speed, and an Intermezzo. The first part of the Ballet mécanique by George Antheil, which had originally been conceived for 16 (!) self-playing pianos, was performed by one self-playing piano, since the performance of the original version for 16 self-playing pianos raised insuperable synchronisation problems. The same evening Hindemith’s Incidental Music to the Film „Sullivan, Felix, the Circus Cat“ (for mechanical organ) was heard. Before the introduction of sound films mechanical instruments had been of decisive importance for the musical illustration of films. Not only the mechanical organ used at the time, but also several of the original compositions for mechanical instruments have since disappeared.

With the spreading of more efficient and cheaper forms of musical reproduction around 1930 (records, radio, sound films), self-playing musical instruments sank into oblivion more and more, and they would certainly have stayed there if it had not been for that extraordinary but genial musical hermit in Mexico who has dedicated his life’s work to the Player Piano: Conlon Nancarrow. Only a few years ago admired only by some insiders, Nancarrow is today regarded as one of the most significant composers of the twentieth century. In self-chosen musical isolation he created a magnificent oeuvre for this instrument, which really not exists outside of museums.

Nancarrows Way to the Player Piano

Conlon Nancarrow was born the 27th of October 1912 in Texarkana, USA. As a child he took his first, however unsuccessful, piano lessons. He said once: This horrible piano teacher I had at the age of four ‘... Naturally I never learned to play anything.’ Nancarrow, who would later devote his life to the piano, had himself never learnt to play this instrument. He had already discovered in his youth a love for jazz, and learnt to play the trumpet. After finishing the High School in Texarkana he went to the Vanderbuilt-University in Nashville to study engineerings, but he cancelled it after a few weeks. At 17 he visited the Conservatorium in Cincinnati, and there studied theory, composition and trumpet. But this study didn't satisfy him either: ‘...it wasn't what I wanted, so I dropped it. I was looking for something a little less academic.[1]

At the age of 19 he married the music student Helen Rigby, but the two young people divorced a few years later. At 21 he moved to Boston, where he took private lessons with Nicholas Slonimsky, Walter Piston and Roger Sessions. He actually only carried out serious study with Sessions, who taught him counterpoint. And that was the completion of his short musical training. Nancarrow calls himself an autodidactic, acquiring his musical skills through his own efforts, with the help of books and through hearing music. A deciding influence on his musical development was a performance of Stravinsky's 'Rite of Spring' that he witnessed at the age of 17 in 1929: ...well, it was a total revelation. At that time I'd heard practically no contemporary music, and suddenly The Rite of Spring was thrown at me, and it just bowled me over. This was when I was in Cincinnati. I heard it at a concert there, and it just opened up a new world to me.[2]

Stravinsky, Bartók and Johann Sebastian Bach were his favorite composers. Illuminating is Nancarrows record collection, which gives deep information about his musical sources: A huge amount of ethnic music, from Africa, India, Bali, Sumatra, China, Java, Haiti, Brasilia, Cuba and so on. Than an impressive collection of Jazz with Louis Armstrong, Bessie Smith and Jelly Roll Morton. And nearly no recordings from the 19th century music - but music from the 17th, 18th and 20th century.

Nancarrow's first surviving compositions were written in Boston: Prelude and Blues for piano. Although these pieces make high demands on the performer, they can nevertheless be performed by a good pianist.

At 25 Nancarrow decided to join the Abraham Lincoln Brigade in Spain and he fighted against the faschist Franco government. During his two years absence the two compositions Prelude and Blues were published in New Music Edition. The well known composer Aaron Copland wrote about the works in 1938 in Modern Music:

Conlon Nancarrow is a brand new name to me. I first saw it on the January 1938 cover of "New Music", containing a "Toccata" for violin and piano, a "Prelude" and "Blues" for piano alone, all by Mr. Nancarrow. His biography is brief: "Born 1912, Texarkana, Arkansas. Studied at Cincinnati Conservatory for two years. Worked way to Europe in 1936. No job since return. Went to Spain to help fight Fascism. There is nothing to do but hope for his safe return. Otherwise America will have lost a talented composer. In fact, these short works show a remarkable surety in an unknown composer, plus a degree of invention and imagination that immediately gives him a place among our talented younger men.[3]

After Nancarrow's return to the US he went to New York. There he had an experience that convinced him to get rid of the human performers. He had written a Septett which should be performed in New York:

In fact, the septet was played once in New York after I came back from Spain - I think in 1941. In any case, that was one that was played! Actually it wasn't very complicated. It had a conductor. The League of Composers had very good musicians. They got them from studios there, from the radio. There were two rehearsals. For one rehearsal, four came. The second rehearsal, three, and one of the original four. So there wasn't one session with the whole group. And when they played it, a couple of instruments lost their place right at the beginning. All through the piece, they were playing in some other place. Everything was lost, it was a real desaster. [4]

From that time on Nancarrow decided to compose for player piano - a decision reinforced by Henry Cowell's book New Musical Resources - in order not to be hindered by the limitations of a performer in the future.

Nancarrow, who lost his passport in Spain applied for a new one, but he didn’t get a new passport because of his - according to the government of the time - 'undesirable' activities in Spain. That’s why Nancarrow decided to emigrate to Mexico. There he lived for fourty years in musical isolation, without contact to the established music scene in the States or in Europe.

In 1941 he wrote a three movement Sonatina for piano, which was however, at that time, unplayable for a pianist because of its immense speed. Because he wanted to hear it, he arranged it for player piano. It was the first composition he ever punched in a paper roll.

Only once, in 1947 he leaved Mexico for a few months and he travelled to New York, in order to acquire a punching machine. He had been looking for it several weeks and finally he became acquainted with Lawrence Cook, who arranged piano rolls for QRS. Cook borrowed him his hand punching machine so that Nancarrow could have copied this mecanism for punching music rolls. In New York he married his second wife Annette.

In his first years in Mexico Nancarrow was also busy for some time with the idea of operating a percussion orchestra of 88 instruments with a music roll - an idea that couldn't be realised however, because of the enormous technical difficulties.

In 1949 Nancarrow created his first original composition for player piano, which was published in 1951 in New Music Editions. This should be the olny publishing of his player piano compositions for 25 years. Nancarrow still describes his first player piano compositions as rhythmic studies, a title that he later changed to studies. Up to 49 Studies for Player Piano have been composed, some of which are in several movements. Only once Nancarrow tried to organize a concert with his player pianos in Mexico: this was on 30th of July 1962, in Sala Ponce in the Palacio de Belas Artes in Mexico City. After he had gone to the enormous trouble of moving his two pianos to the concert hall only a few audience members turned up, and these were his friends, who more or less already knew his music. Since then, Nancarrow has never been willing to bring his pianos out of his studio again until October 1990, when the author and the composer Julio Estrada convinced him to agree for two player piano concerts at the University of Mexico City.

Possibilities and Limitations of the Player Piano

These instruments were brought on to the market by a number of firms - all instruments functioning, however, on the same principle: a vacuum bellow being powered by a motor, sometimes also by footpedals. All other functions are pneumatically operated by means of vacuum. The piano keys are played with the help of small bellows, which are emptied of air and shut accordingly, in response to a corresponding command on the note roll. If the note is to sound louder, then the bellows are quickly emptied of air. If the note is soft, the air escapes slowly.

The Ampico system, produced by the American Piano Company was the system used by Nancarrow. The note roll is 28.5 cms wide and divided into 98 tracks. These tracks are 'read off' by a tracker bar which also possesses 98 holes, by means of suction. 83 of these tracks control 83 piano notes, from the lowest 'b' to the 4th 'a' above middle 'c'. Just one track controls the left, and one the right pedal. The keyboard is divided into two halves, which can be dynamically controlled, independently of each other. On the one side of the note roll are 6 tracks for controlling the dynamics of the bass half, on the other side the dynamics of the treble half are also controlled by 6 tracks. One track controls the rewinding action of the roll. If a perforation or a string of perforations on the note roll runs across the tracker bar, a key on the piano is struck. When the perforation is closed again the action is ended. A single perforation means a staccato touch, and a row of perforations a long sustained sound. The note roll can only give yes/no instructions, and in this way is an actual digital information-carrier - a predecessor to the computer.

A player piano has much more possibilities than a pianist:

·      Use of the keyboard

A pianist can play at once up to 12 or 15 notes, which must be situated in particular parts of the keyboard. To play the bass, treble and middle of the keyboard at the same time isn't possible without assistance. The player piano can play up to 40 notes at once without the limitations of human fingers.

·      Speed

A practised pianist can play up to 15 notes in succession per second. A player piano offers the possibility of executing up to 200 notes per second. That means we don’t hear single notes but new musical structures as sound aggregates, sound clouds. Furthermore, continual speed changes or different speeds in various lines can be reproduced.

·      Metres and rhythms

A pianist can play 2 different metres at the same time if they are in simple time relationship to each other, such as 2 to 3 or 3 to 5. With more complicated time-relationships he has reached his limitations, as with the reproducing of 3 or more different metres at a time. The same is also valid for extremely complex rhythms. The player piano executes all complicated metres and rhythms with absolute precision. It is to his merit that Nancarrow recognised all these resources and new possibilities, and used them in his compositions. This led to the discovery of totally new sound structures, to the dissolution of single notes and the emergence of sound 'layers'. The greatest significance in Nancarrow's compositions, however, has to do with exact time durations: the temporal relationships like metre, rhythm and speed have absolute priority over melody and harmony.

From the time I started composing, I'd always had this thing of working with temporal matters, rhythm and so forth, and this thing sort of grew. By the time I saw Cowell's book, it was just a big push ahead... I met him once. He asked me for those tapes and I sent them, and I never heard a word from him again. In fact, someone - I forgot who - pointed out that Cowell always talked about these things, polyrhythms and so forth, but neither he nor Ives ever dabbled in player pianos, which would have been the ideal way of doing that. It surprises me that he never did. [5]

In this way, Nancarrow was already using the possibilities of computer music long before there even was a music computer. But the price he had to pay for this was high: for five minutes of music he needed nearly one years work.

Nancarrow's Compositions for Player Piano

The Sonatina, written in 1941 for human player, already shows in the first movement frequent changes of bar and can hardly be played by a pianist. A further example of the high demands made on the performer is an early work written in 1935: the Toccata for violin and piano. The piano accompaniment demands very fast note and chord repetitions. No pianist can perform these repetitions at the prescribed speed without suffering from muscle-cramp. Nancarrow therefore punched the piano accompaniment on to a note roll, and the player piano performs all these difficulties with the greatest of ease. The violin voice is too extremly difficult but can be played by a good violiniste.

Nancarrow explained his composing process once in an interview:

Generally, I plan ahead and write all of the Study out first, before beginning the punching. I write it down in such a way, now, that no one could really figure it out, but the first twenty Studies I wrote out in standard notation. There were rhythmic juxtapositions where measures came, but they were standard because of the fixed ratchet principle of the punching machine. Everything was additively related to a small unit. Now, almost all of the Studies I do are in irrational relationships. Of course, I have more or less an idea of what I am going to do and of the whole piece before I do anything: the general plan. I mark out on a blank roll of paper all of the proportional relationships of tempo, using what I think is going to be the smallest (fastest) note value as the unit of measure. Of course, occasionally, if I have to use something even faster, I just go over the roll and put in the smaller values, showing the relations to the basic scale in the score. I mark the whole thing out from the beginning to end on the blank player piano roll. It's quite accurate, I mean, as exact as I can make it. Then I take music paper and I block off the roll according to a basic size (the width of the music paper); next I take the marked proportions from the roll onto the music paper. It is not as exact as the roll, but fairly accurate so that the vertical relationship of tempo units will be more or less what I see graphically on the marked paper. I establish the pattern of temporal relationships before the pitches. The marked out roll has no rhythms, only a series of sixteen notes, or whatever. When I start to write the piece, the melody and rhythm - the harmonic connotation - are all done together. I use melody also in a rhythmic sense, in the sense of accentuating a certain rhythm by contour. But I don't sketch the melodic contours before beginning. I do the melodies and the harmonic relationship all at the same time, on the music paper that is marked out. [6]

Nancarrows best known player piano composition is his Study No. 21, called Canon X. It’s an example of a continually changing speed in different voices. This composition is strictly two-voiced. The bass voice begins slowly with 4 notes per second. Shortly after, the treble voice enters at the breakneck speed of 39 notes per second. The bass voice accelerates continually, while the treble voice becomes slower. At about the middle of the piece the speeds meet. The bass voice then becomes faster than the treble, and ends in a sound hurricane of 118 notes per second. The volume increases gradually during the piece in the degrees of p through to fff.

Only a few of his player piano compositions can be played by hand:

I just write a piece of music. It just happens that a lot of them are unplayable. I don't have any obsession of making things unplayable. A few of my pieces could be played quite easily -- a few! In fact, Study No. 26, "Canon- 1/1", you could play that with organ, orchestra, or any way. [7]

One of his most impressive compositions is his Study for Player Piano No. 27. Nancarrow mentioned about this Study:

With No. 27 I thought of the whole piece as an ostinato, that I was going to have the exact proportions of sections worked out, before composing it. There would be a certain amount of this and a certain amount of that, but through the whole was going to be an ostinato - that against a constantly shifting acceleration and retarding. In fact, I like to think of the ostinato in that piece as the ticking of an ontological clock. The rest of it - the other lines - wandering around... There are four different percentages of acceleration and ritard that react against the ostinato: 5%, 6%, 8% and 11% ritards and accelerations. Incidentically, that’s the only piece I ever did over again...[8]

An example of different fixed speeds in various voices is Study No. 36. In this 4-voiced canon all 4 voices are absolutely identical - with the exception of the speed. The first voice begins in the bass with the tempo mark 85, followed by the second with tempo 90. The third voice begins with tempo 95 and the last voice, the treble, has tempo 100. The faster voices now follow the slowest voice, and in the middle all 4 voices meet together. Nancarrow's genius is evident in the way that he succeeded in combining these 4 voices into a great compositional unity.

One reason for working  with  the player piano was my interest in temporally dissonant relationships. Temporal dissonance is as hard to define as tonal dissonance. I  certainly would not define a temporal relation of 1 to 2 as dissonant, but I would call a 2 to 3 relation mildly dissonant, and more and more so up to the extreme of the irrational ones. When you use a canon, you are repeating the same thing melodically, so you don't have to think about it, and you can concern yourself more with temporal aspects. You simplify the melodic elements, and you can follow more the temporal material. [9]

For the reproduction of this highly complex compositions Nancarrow prepared the hammers of his player pianos:

In the beginning, I tried various things. The first was called a mandolin attachment. It is a wooden strip with a lot of little leather straps fixed with metallic things that dangle in front of the strings. You can lower or raise the wooden  strip, and I liked the idea that you could have a normal piano or altered sound. Unfortunately, it was a mess, the leather straps were always getting tangled in the strings, especially with loud playing. Then I tried soaking the hammers in lacquer, hardening the felt. That wasn't too bad, but it wasn't what I wanted. I tried various other things; then finally settled on these: one of them has hard-wood hammers with steel straps over them and the other, felt hammers covered with leather in which are embedded the little snaps that are used in clothing. The felt cushions a little, then the leather, and then, that metallic snap. [10]

Against the end of the seventieth Nancarrow became more and more known in Europe and the States. In 1981 he travelled for the first time since more than thirty years for concerts to the States. In 1982 he was invited for concerts in several places in Europe. In this time Nancarrows Studies for Player Piano were performed by a tape, because there was no suitable player piano for these complex compositions all over the world. Since 1987 Nancarrows player piano music was performed with the authors original Ampico Bösendorfer Grand from 1927 in all important music centers of Europe. The author had the privilege to realise several concerts together with Nancarrow in Europe and Mexico.

One of the most enthusiastic admirer and promoter of Nancarrows music is the composer György Ligeti. When he first heard Nancarrows player piano music he wrote to a friend:

After the few player piano studies of Nancarrow I listened to, I affirm with all my serious judgement that Conlon Nancarrow is the absolutely greatest living composer. If J.S. Bach had grown up with blues, boogie-woogie and latin-american music instead of the protestant choral, he would have composed like Nancarrow, ie. Nancarow is the synthesis of American tradition, polyphony of Bach and elegance of Stravinsky, but even much more: he is the best composer of the second half of this century.[11]

Nancarrows Studies for Player Piano are valued meanwhile as the "Well-tempered Piano of the Twentieth Century". Nancarrow died 10 August 1997 at the age of 84 in his home in Mexico City.


[1] Rockwell, John: ‘Conlon Nancarrow - Poet of the Player Piano’, The New York Times. 28 June 1981.

[2] Gagne, Cole, and Tracy Caras: ‘Conlon Nancarrow’ in Soundpieces: Interviews with American Composers. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press 1982.

[3] Copland, Aaron: Scores and Records, in: Modern Music, Vol. 15, Nov. 1937 - June 1938.

[4] Reynolds, Roger: ‘Conlon Nancarrow: Interviews in Mexico City and San Francisco’, American Music 2/2 (Summer 1984).

[5] Gagne, Cole, and Tracy Caras: ‘Conlon Nancarrow’ in Soundpieces: Interviews with American Composers. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press 1982.

[6] Reynolds, Roger: ‘Conlon Nancarrow: Interviews in Mexico City and San Francisco’, American Music 2/2 (Summer 1984).

[7] Gagne, Cole, and Tracy Caras: ‘Conlon Nancarrow’ in Soundpieces: Interviews with American Composers. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press 1982.

[8] Reynolds, Roger: ‘Conlon Nancarrow: Interviews in Mexico City and San Francisco’, American Music 2/2 (Summer 1984).

[9] Reynolds, Roger: ‘Conlon Nancarrow: Interviews in Mexico City and San Francisco’, American Music 2/2 (Summer 1984).

[10] Reynolds, Roger: ‘Conlon Nancarrow: Interviews in Mexico City and San Francisco’, American Music 2/2 (Summer 1984).

[11] György Ligeti to Mario Bonaventura, Letter from 28 june 1980.