The Naming Game, Part 3 - Tilted Titles

"Wachut Auf" by Bach. At least
that's what we call it.

The nomenclature of classical music is seen by some as a barrier to entry into the field. Some believe (both inside and out of the field) that  if you're not quite sure what "Concerto for flatiron in H-flat, Op. 999a" means, then, perhaps you're not smart enough to listen to it.

Well, yes you are. In parts one and two I explained the basics behind the naming of instrumental works. Since they usually just have a generic name, some type of numbering is necessary to tell them apart.

But what about vocal music? After all, songs in popular music all have unique titles. That's true. And those titles usually come from one of two places: either a key word or phrase from the chorus of the song, or an evocative title assigned by the composer(s).

Begin at the beginning, so none may sleep
Classical music works a little differently. Like instrumental music, most vocal and choral works originally didn't have assigned titles. So the practice evolved of referring to them by the first line or phrase of the text.

That's why Puccini's popular aria from "Turandot" is called Nessun Dorma. The phrase ("None May Sleep") is a repeat of the decree Princess Turandot has issued, that none may sleep until the name of the Prince has been discovered. The Prince echoes the call, which then leads into his aria of love. But since the first words he sings are "Nessun dorma," that's what the aria's called.

The same holds true with arias from oratorios and cantatas. "Are We Like Sheep" is a famous chorus from Handel's "Messiah." Ditto the "Hallelujah" Chorus -- so called because that's the first word sung.

And the pattern holds for unnamed larger vocal and choral works as well. Bach's cantatas all take their titles from the first line of text. "Wachet Auf" is the first line of his Cantata No. 140. Want to sing the second aria from that work? Then you're talking about Mein Freund ist mein!.

A Sense of Entitlement
Works can have titles assigned, of course. Most operas take their titles from the lead character, or the plot. And if a poem is set to music, the title of the poem usually becomes the title of the musical work as well. Schubert's lieder mostly follow this pattern, as do Schumann's.


Missa No Understand, Obi-Wan
Reciting titles for medieval and renaissance masses can make one sound like Jar-Jar Binks, but there's a reason for that nomenclature as well. The Roman Catholic worship service is known as a mass, or missa in Latin.

From about 1100 to 1600, it was very important to have liturgical music tied to tradition. So much so that composers usually uses an existing Gregorian chant as the basis for their composition. As time went on, other types of music were incorporated, including some secular (and in some cases pretty dirty) songs.

Titles for these masses always referred to the root melody the composition was based on. So the Missa L'Homme Armee is a mass based on the popular song "The Armed Man." Actually, several renaissance composers have a Missa L'Homme Armee in their catalog.



It's like the French have a different word for everything! - Steve Martin
The important thing to remember is that classical music has been composed for over a millenia in virtually every country in Europe, as well as most of the Americas, (and a few other places besides). Titles almost always come from the language of the text. So that's why you have German, Italian, French, and even Latin titles for works.

So the titles of these works isn't meant to obscure, but to provide additional clarity. You might not know what Christ Lag in Todesbanden (Bach's Cantata No. 4) means, but you at least you know it's a German work.

What next?
There are many other ways classical works are named. If any are puzzling you, just leave me a note in the comments field. I'll be happy to research your question and supply an answer. Classical names shouldn't be a barrier to the enjoyment of the music. It doesn't really matter what a work is called, just how it calls to you.

The Naming Game, Part 1, Opus 1! 

The Naming Game, Part 2: Cataloging Chaos

The Naming Game, Part 2 - Cataloging Chaos

A keyboard sonata by Dominico Scarlatti.
But which one?

Classical music nomenclature can be a major obstacle for newcomers to the genre. In Part 1 of this series, I tried to demystify things a little by explaining why and how numbers were used. But what about all those letters? In some cases, they're referring to some type of catalog system, which is what this post is about.

A little disorder around the edges
Beginning around the start of the 19th Century, music publishing became a mature and organized industry. If you look at a list of published works by Beethoven, the opus numbers represent all of his approved compositions. The same is true for Mendelssohn, Schumann, and certainly Brahms.

All of these composers have works that were never published, though -- or were never assigned opus numbers. Usually you'll see something like WoO 3, which means "Without Opus, Number 3." So if a composer has, say twelve unpublished compositions, they may be labeled WoO 1, 2, 3, etc.

So where do these numbers come from?
Usually there's a biographer (sometimes a team of scholars) that pour through a composer's papers and create the initial catalog of unpublished works. They're the ones who establish which piece will be designated WoO 3 rather than WoO 4.

So where do those extra letters come from?
For the composers who published almost everything, cleaning up the leftovers with WoO is usually sufficient. But there are some composers -- like Schubert -- who wrote far more than they ever published. And when you go back to the Baroque period (and earlier), composers wrote prolifically, but published very rarely.

These are the bodies of work that need serious organization -- and this is where all of those extra letters come from. Several methods have been used to catalog works. Chronological is the most intuitive. This is how Ludwig von Köchel cataloged Mozart's works in the 1860's. These numbers usually have a K (Köchel) or KV (Kochel Verzeichnis) in front of them. Modern scholarship and the discovery of lost manuscripts have made some revisions to the list, which is why you'll see things like:

Mozart: Symphony in G, "Alte Lambach", K.45a (the "a" denotes an insertion between K. 45 and K. 46 of the original list)

Otto Erich Deutsch did the same thing with Schubert's music in the 1950's. Although Schubert has over 100 published compositions, he wrote almost 1,000, Most people just refer to his music using the Deutch numbers.

Schubert: String Quartet, No. 2 in C major, D. 32

OK, Köchel and Deutsch makes sense, but what's up with Haydn's numbers?
Anthony van Hoboken used a different type of his organization for Haydn's music in the late 1800's. He first arranged everything by type of composition, Type I: symphonies, Type II: divertimenti, Type III, string quartets, and so on.

Within each type, the works are arranged in chronological order. So Haydn's first symphony is Hob:I:1. While the symphonies work pretty well, it can get a bit messy for other works. His piano sonatas, for example, have a number system assigned to them by Haydn scholar Howard Chandler Robbins Landon that is at odds with the Hoboken numbers.

So Haydn's Piano Sonata in G, written in 1766, is L.13, Hob:XVI:6

Social numbering
Sometimes it's not a person but an organization -- or society -- that does the numbers. Johann Sebastian Bach only had a few works published during his lifetime. When the Bach-Werke-Verzeichnis (Bach Works Catalogue) undertook the task of publishing his complete works, they also assigned catalog numbers to them. Like Hoboken, they sort of organized the music along the lines of type.

So the first group of BWV numbers are all cantatas. Bach's Cantata No. 140 "Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme" is indeed BWV 140. As with other catalogs, the listing has been updated over time, so you'll sometimes see things like BWV 1006a and 1006b.

There also was a Händel-Werke-Verzeichnis, with a purpose similar to the Bach society. They assigned HWV numbers to Handel's works, although their usage isn't yet as widespread as the BWV numbers.

When catalogs collide
Sometimes not even the scholars agree -- which can make things ugly.  The first person to catalog the 555 keyboard sonatas of Dominico Scarlatti was Alessandro Longo in the early Twentieth Century. He grouped them together in suites according to keys, and assigned them L. numbers (for Longo -- not to be confused with the L. of Landon-Robbins fro Haydn's music).

Ralph Kirkpatrick, scholar and harpsichordist, did extensive research of these works in the 1940's. He came up with a revised chronological listing, and gave each sonata a K. number (for Kirkpatrick, not Köchel -- you can see things are already going south).

In the 1960's, Giorgio Pestelli offered up yet another revised listing, different from both Longo's and Kirckpatrick's catalogs. And yes, he assigned each work a new number with P. for Pestelli.

So Dominico Scarlatti's (and you have to specify Dominico -- his uncle Alessandro Scarlatti was also a famous composer) keyboard sonata in D minor, Andante moderato is simultaneously known as:

D. Scarlatti: Sonata in D minor, K. 52, L. 267, P. 41

So what's it all mean?
Catalog numbers are usually a good way to uniquely identify a work. Don't be intimidated by them, or particularly impressed by people who use them extensively, though. If you refer to Haydn's Symphony No. 45 as the "Farewell" symphony, most classical music lovers will know exactly which work you're referring to. Calling it Hob.I:45, not so much.

When catalog numbers clarify, use them. When they don't, don't. That's what I do, anyway.

Just be careful with Scarlatti (Dominico, that is).

The Naming Game, Part 1, Opus 1! 

The Naming Game, Part 3: Tilted Titles

The Naming Game - Part 1, Opus 1!

One of the biggest barriers to enjoying classical music I think, is the names of pieces. For people just getting started with classical music the nomenclature can seem intimidating, arcane, and perhaps even arbitrary. And, unfortunately, there's a certain (small) segment of the classical audience that, like a grammarian, loves to correct any slight error or omission in a work's title.

Why not just call a song a song?
The reason why compositions have the titles they do is because, for the most part, the pieces aren't titled. Instead, they are generally referred to by the type of composition they are.

So while "song" pretty much covers anything in the realm of popular music, in classical music it would generally only refer to a work for voice and piano. Is it for violin and piano (with no singing)? Then chances are the composer calls it a "sonata." A "concerto" is usually for a solo instrument with a backing ensemble, while an "oratorio" is understood to be a piece for vocal soloists, chorus, and instrumentalists.

So the generic name for a work (whether assigned by the composer or not) is pretty important to identifying the piece. "Beethoven's Fifth" doesn't help much. Do you mean his fifth symphony, or his fifth piano concerto? Or perhaps his fifth string quartet, or even his fifth piano sonata? Knowing the right type of composition helps tremendously.

An Opus is more than a penguin
Imagine if, say, Led Zeppelin had given no titles to any of their songs. And let's say that they also didn't title their albums. How would you know which song you were listening to? One way would be to refer to the album by number (actually, Led Zeppelin isn't that bad an example -- their first four albums are numbered).

So then the proper name for what we know as "Stairway to Heaven" would be Led Zeppelin Song 4, Album 4. That's pretty much how it works in the classical world, too. Many composers published collections of music, similar to the concept of a record album. These usually have opus numbers. "Opus" comes from the Latin for "work" (notice how often classical compositions are referred to as "works").

So the first work, or collection of short works a composer has published is their Opus 1. You can get sometimes get a good idea of how prolific a composer is by looking at their opus numbers.

Consider Alan Hovhaness' Symphony No. 60, Op. 396, "To the Appalachian Mountains." Whether you look at the symphony number or the opus number, it's clear Hovhaness wrote (and published) a lot of music!

Key is key
So opus numbers are important, as are piece numbers within the opus. But why are keys always referred to? Well, they help further differentiate the work. Take Chopin's collection of Ten Etudes, Op. 10. Some of these etudes (or "studies") are written in different keys.

So you could just refer to the Etude in E-flat major, Op. 10 and that would be fine -- there's only one in that set. But you'd be in trouble if you talked about the Etude in C major, Op. 10. Because there are two. Do you mean Etude No. 1, or Etude No. 7? So that's why on the air we refer to it as "Chopin: Etude No. 1 in C major, Op. 10."

Composer, composition type, key, number in the set, publication number of the set. That's really what's behind most titles. And as long as it's clear which piece you're referring to, you don't have to be pedantic and include everything (although we usually do on air for clarity).

"Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67" is technically correct. But "Beethoven's Fifth Symphony" is equally clear.

That way there's no confusion.

But wait -- what about all that other stuff?
Don't worry -- I'll cover that in upcoming posts. Next time we'll talk about catalog numbers. Most composers have them, but they're only used widely used for some. I'll explain why.

The Naming Game, Part 2: Cataloging Chaos


The Naming Game, Part 3: Tilted Titles