I first became aware of the music of Anton Eberl (1765–1807), a contemporary of the “Viennese classics,” in 2013. Eberl was a composer whose first piano sonata was published as Mozart's last, under Mozart's name, even while Mozart was still alive; therefore it is presumed that Mozart must have approved of the deceptive attribution. Furthermore, Eberl's Symphony in E-flat Major was evaluated more highly than Beethoven's Eroica by contemporary critics when both were initially played in Vienna in 1805.

The following study, which focuses on two main examples drawn from Eberl's mature symphonies, seeks to demonstrate that our concept of “normative” sonata form, in terms of structure and design, is seriously incomplete. Taking the first movements of Eberl's symphonies in E-flat major and D minormajor as case studies, I shall argue that the sample of “known works” in the so-called classical style is still much too narrow for us to think that we have explored all of the possible models of sonata form. Consider the late Theophil Antonicek's 2012 comment on the symphonies of Antonio Cartellieri in the program booklet for the recording:

Antonicek's description may or may not be true, but, at this point it is difficult to verify because none of the scores of Cartellieri's symphonies have been published in modern editions. Yet it is obvious from the single available recording that Cartellieri was an accomplished composer who may well have influenced— and been influenced by—Beethoven. During the intermission at the premiere of Cartellieri's oratorio Gioas—Re di Giuda (Jesus—King of Juda), which took place on March 29–30, 1795, at the Wiener Burgtheater, Beethoven played his First Piano Concerto in his Viennese debut as a composer.

Several scholars have written about the tonal organization of the St. Matthew Passion, including Friedrich Smend, Hermann Abert, and Eric Chafe, the most prominent English-speaking Bach scholar to address this topic. Yet no one has analyzed the tonal plan of the Passion (either in part or in whole) from a linear standpoint. Schenker evidently had little interest in structural connections among movements of large-scale works, perhaps because such connections are looser than those that bind a single movement together. It would therefore seem that any linear interpretation of tonal relations among movements would have to go beyond the limits of Schenker's theory.

It is precisely the looser kind of connections that I wish to explore in the opening eight numbers of the St. Matthew Passion (i.e., until the aria “Blute nur”). I believe that these numbers, taken together, exhibit tonal connections not altogether dissimilar to what one might observe among successive numbers of an opera, or among movements of a symphony or sonata. If we begin by considering the keys that Bach employs in the first eight numbers, we may note that, with only a few exceptions, they are closely related to the key of E minor in which the Passion begins. To borrow a term from Johann David Heinichen's 1711 treatise, a primary source for Chafe's analytical approach to key relations in Bach's vocal music, most of the keys used in the opening scene lie within the six-key ambitus of E minor (G–a–b–C–D–e, the same as for G major). But the opening scene is not unified in the sense of being directed toward closure in E minor. Only at the end of Part 1, with the grand chorale fantasia “O Mensch, bewein dein Sünde groß” in E major, does Bach bring about closure on the same tonic as that of the opening chorus. Nor can one infer a unified tonal plan for the whole Passion, because Part 2 ends in C minor rather than E minor or major. And so it should be: the Passion story does not come full circle, but ends in a different spiritual place from its starting point, with the believers not only mourning Jesus's death but also looking ahead to the redemption of humanity that his Crucifixion makes possible.

Explorations in Schenkerian Analysis is a collection of essays written in memory of Edward Laufer (1938–2014), a prominent proponent of Schenkerian analysis, by former colleagues, friends, and students. Edward's introduction to Schenker came in a seminar taught by Ernst Oster at Princeton, where Edward was enrolled in the doctoral program in composition and theory. Prior to his studies at Princeton, he had completed a master's degree in composition at the University of Toronto and attended the Juilliard School of Music, where he studied composition with Roger Sessions, a major influence on his development, and piano with Edward Steuermann. At Princeton, he worked closely with several teachers, including Milton Babbitt, who was the advisor of his doctoral dissertation on Schoenberg's Four Songs, op. 22. Why he never submitted this last requirement for the PhD degree remains a mystery to his friends. Perhaps the reason lies in the disappointing reception of his paper on this topic at the AMS meeting in 1973, or perhaps his interest had shifted elsewhere by that time; or perhaps he simply would not put into print work about which he was not totally convinced—a characteristic trait that was to inform his approach to publication throughout his entire career. After all, Edward was a perfectionist. He devoted the utmost attention and respect to the music under study, and he expected the same level of care from others. Whatever the reason, clearly the pivotal event that shaped Edward's future was that seminar with Oster, with whom Edward continued to study privately until Oster's death in 1977. The rest is history; Edward Laufer became a leading advocate and practitioner of Schenkerian analysis in his generation.

For those who did not know him personally, Edward is probably best known for the voluminous handouts accompanying his conference presentations, which reveal not only his superior grasp of the literature, but also a mind-set, akin to Schenker's, that a broad view is necessary. Those who have had the privilege of working with him can additionally testify to his outstanding musicianship, intellectual elegance, and an old-school humanism that encompassed all aspects of culture. For thirty years (1974–2004) he taught at the University of Toronto.