1. Typically, Schonberg concluded, “there can be little doubt that he was America's greatest composer,” New York Times, 10 6, 1974Google Scholar. Leonard Bernstein called Ives “our Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson of music” on his hour-long television program, “Charles Ives: American Pioneer,” CBS, January 23, 1967; on a small record that accompanied his Columbia recording of the Second Symphony Bernstein called Ives “our musical Mark Twain, Lincoln, and Emerson all rolled into one.”

2. The new books include the revisionist biography by Rossiter, Frank, Charles Ives and His America (New York: Liveright. 1975)Google Scholar; Perry, Rosalie Sandra, Charles Ives and the American Mind (Kent, Ohio: Kent State Univ. Press, 1974)Google Scholar; Perlis, Vivian, ed., Charles Ives Remembered: An Oral History (New Haven, Conn.: Yale Univ. Press, 1974)Google Scholar; Wooldridge, David, From the Steeples and the Mountains: A Study of Charles Ives (New York: Knopf, 1974)Google Scholar; Elkus, Jonathan, Charles Ives and the American Band Tradition: A Centennial Tribute (Exeter, England, Univ. of Exeter, 1974)Google Scholar; and Hitchcock, H. Wiley and Perlis, Vivian, eds., An Ives Celebration: Papers and Panels of the Charles Ives Centennial Festiual-Conference (Urbana: Univ. of Illinois Press, 1977)Google Scholar. Ives, Charles, Memos, ed., Kirkpatrick, John (New York: W. W. Norton, 1972), should also be added.Google Scholar

Major Centennial activities included a “Mini-Festival around Ives” at Lincoln Center, October 1974, with Pierre Boulez conducting the New York Philharmonic; a festival-conference held in New York. Brooklyn, and New Haven, October 17–21, 1974, organized by New York University and Yale University; an Ives festival in Florida; a musical production, “Meeting Mr. Ives,” written by Brendan Gill and Richard Dufallo, conducted by Dufallo, and directed by Dennis Nahat, performed in New York and San Francisco only, to my knowledge; and two exhibits, “Ivesiana” at the National Institute of Arts and Letters and “Ives the Great Commoner” at the Lincoln Center Library, New York.

3. Ives is seldom taught in basic American Studies courses, and I have heard colleagues and majors (as well as a majority of the undergraduates I teach) admit that they have never heard his music. Only one article on Ives has ever appeared in the American Quarterly, official journal of the profession, and few of the doctoral dissertations on Ives have had American Studies sponsorship. Stephen Foster, Woody Guthrie, and Bob Dylan appear to earn more attention in American Studies than Ives, who ought to be as much a part of our curriculum as Whitman. Or Winslow Homer, say, or Frank Lloyd Wright. By now, we ought to have developed a whole body of Ives criticism, including discussions to relate his views and practice to the ongoing debate over American Studies methodology and discussions to relate the sexism of both Ives and his biographers to the ongoing debate over the treatment of women in the arts. A larger body of interdisciplinary criticism might have provided a “long foreground” for the works by Perry, Rossiter, and Perlis, the Ives Memos, and the papers of the Ives Centennial conference. (How can we expect students to evaluate Rossiter's attack upon the “Ives Legend,” for example, if they do not even know a legend exists?)

Perhaps it's the music barrier. Educators in American Studies have learned by now not to be afraid of teaching about architecture and painting in the context of American culture—they have been doing it at least since Lewis Mumford. They have not yet been intimidated by the culturologists in our field into banishing high literature from the American Studies classroom. They feel quite secure in calling Whitman America's Greatest Poet even after Donald Hall announced (New York Times, 03 9, 1968Google Scholar) that, being in the discipline of American Studies rather than literature, some of them couldn't tell a good poet from a good third baseman. Yet these same educators, many of them, are intimidated when confronted by a music score. I do not think they should be, or at any rate that they are justified in using their fears to keep Ives and American music from their students.

4. Ives is a natural for courses in departments of Humanities, English, or Art that deal with source study or comparisons with stream-of-consciousness and realistic writing, abstract expressionist painting, jazz and aleatoric improvisation. He can be compared to such figures as Picasso, Joyce, and Bartok in studies of the relation between an artist's native context and the modernist means he employs. For courses in Religious Studies programs, in addition to the many works making use of hymn material, Ives's short piece “The Unanswered Question,” paired with his major work, The Fourth Symphony, provides material for an excellent unit of study for exploring the several ways “answers” are attempted to the fundamental “question” asked of life. No work is better than the Concord Sonata for introducing the religious dimensions of Transcendentalism.

Two of Ives's often quoted statements confirm that he belongs as much to the interdisciplinary areas of American Studies and Humanities as he does to departments of music. The first was selected to be engraved on the official medallion of the Ives Centennial in connection with the Ives Mini-Festival at Lincoln Center, New York City, and may be found quoted as epigraph to the chapter on Ives in Gilbert Chase's pioneer study, America's Music (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1954), p. 668:Google Scholar

The future of music may not lie entirely with music itself, but rather in the way it encourages and extends, rather than limits, the aspirations and ideals of the people, in the way it makes itself a part with the finer things that humanity does and dreams of.

The second statement originally appeared in a letter to his friend Henry Bellaman, reprinted in Musical Quarterly, 19, No. 1 (01 1933), 47:Google Scholar

The fabric of existence weaves itself whole. You cannot set art off in the corner and expect it to have vitality, reality and substance. There can be nothing exclusive about a substantial art.

Ives's contempt for the “Mus Docs” and music academies of his day where music was taught “by the metronom” becomes apparent very quickly from his writings. No doubt he would have approved the current trend within departments of music away from exclusivity and toward the study of the art in larger contexts, a trend of considerable significance to American Studies and other interdisciplinary areas.

5. My reference is to Howard Boatwright's definitive characterization of the sonata: “For some composers, one work, more than any other, may become a channel through which the streams of philosophical concept, musical technique, and style flow in singular unity. For Charles Ives, the Concord Sonata was such a work” (Introduction to Ives, Charles, Essays Before a Sonata, The Majority and Other Writings, ed., Boatwright, Howard [New York: W. W. Norton, 1970], p. xiii).Google Scholar

6. The cited characterizations are from “Discus,” “Paradoxical Ives,” Harper's, 1966Google Scholar; “The Old Yankee Iconoclast Strikes Again—Posthumously,” High Fidelity, 10 1971Google Scholar; “Ives the Innovator,” Time, 11 4, 1974Google Scholar; Wooldridge, David, “Music's Ishmael,”Google Scholar preface to From the Steeples and Mountains, cited in note #2; Goodman, John, “An Urbanized Thoreau,” The New Leader, 09 23, 1968Google Scholar; Paul Rosenfeld, who called him an old master, is quoted in Rossiter, Charles Ives, p. 241Google Scholar; and the last quote may be found in O'Reilly, F. Warren, “Charles Ives, All-American,” Clavier, 10 1974, p. 10.Google Scholar

7. What is striking is the lack of recognition, except by Ives himself, of the role of his wife, especially when compared to the lavish attention paid to the role of his father, in contributing to Ives's musical achievement. The failure to tell her story is the greatest oversight in the biography by Rossiter, who insists upon Ives's extreme isolation—“the key to an understanding of his place in American culture lies in his extreme artistic isolation”—as if his wife did not really count. Rossiter and others do not even quote Ives's own statement clarifying her role, or they quote only that part of it acknowledging the role of his father: “One thing I am certain of is that, if I have done anything good in music, it was, first, because of my father, and second, because of my wife. What she has done for me I won't put down, because she won't let me. But I am going to put down this at least:—After any of these musical friends of mine (mentioned above, and others) had left, she never once said or suggested or looked or thought that there must be something wrong with me—a thing implied, if not expressed, by most everybody else, including members of the family. She never said, ‘Now why don't you be good, and write something nice the way they like it?’—Never! She urged me on my way to be myself! She gave me not only help but a confidence that no one else since my father had given me.” Quoted in the program book for the centenary album, Charles Ives: the 100th Anniversary (CBS, M4-32504, Inc.,/1974).

8. The standard biography is Henry, and Cowell, Sidney, Charles Ives and His Music (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1955)Google Scholar, an excellent work but necessarily limited and cautious. Amendments to some of the interpretations, especially about Parker's role in Ives's career, and expansion of others may be found in Perry's brilliant analysis and Wooldridge's highly personal and intriguingly idiosyncratic study, but the most controversial reinterpretation is Rossiter's 1974 biography, Charles Ives and His America. Rejecting what he feels to be a standard interpretation of Ives's significance, Rossiter portrays him, in Edward Guereschi's words (in Best Seller, 03 1976Google Scholar), “as a pathetic, crippled victim of the genteel tradition, his vaunted independence more a matter of psychic withdrawal than a proud rejection,” as lonely and frustrated, forever afraid of being emasculated, unable to reconcile his careers as composer and insurance man. Rossiter argues that Ives's extreme artistic isolation (see note 7, above) “arose not only from his desire to write experimental music, but also from his desire to be a good American.” The crux of Rossiter's argument is suggested in this passage: “On the one hand, he learned that he must be masculine; and this commitment caused him to be ashamed of all art music, to regard it as effete, unmanly, and undemocratic. On the other hand, he learned that he should conform to the conventional pattern of middle-class life; and this commitment caused him to live out his life isolated among Philistines, cut off from other avant-garde artists because he regarded them as Bohemians” (pp. xii–xiii, 315). See reviews by Peter Dickinson (on Perlis, Wooldridge, and Rossiter) in Musical Times, 11 1976Google Scholar; by Fry, S. M. in Library Journal, 11 15, 1976Google Scholar; by Henahan, Donald in New York Times Book Review, 11 30, 1975Google Scholar; and by Porter, Andrew in The New Yorker, 11 4, 1974Google Scholar. A significant exchange between John Kirkpatrick and David Wooldridge may be followed in High Fidelity/Musical America, 09 and 11, 1974Google Scholar, illustrating another dimension of the controversy over Ives.

9. Exhaustive but necessarily in need of updating is Warren, Richard Jr., Charles Ives: Discography (New Haven, Conn.: Historical Sound Recordings, Yale Univ. Library, 1972)Google Scholar. Wooldridge includes a discography in his appendix, although his highly personal biases are not very reliable. Alan Mandel has recorded performances of all Ives's piano works, on Desto records, 458/61 (four discs).

10. Stravinsky's comment came in a passing reference shortly before his death, when he was being asked (almost hourly, it then seemed) to assess the current state of music and replied: “The Ivesian vogue of ‘simultaneous strands,’—the musical equivalent of multiple projection films—is at high tide. So is pop. … But certainly there has been no breakthrough in the classical establishment.” In the light of the contrast between Stravinsky's own popularity and capacity for self-advertisement as against Ives's relative obscurity and personal shyness, the reference is startling. The comment originally appeared in an interview with Robert Craft in The New York Review of Books, reprinted in altered form in Stravinsky, Themes and Conclusions (London: Faber and Faber, 1972), p. 131Google Scholar. But see also Stravinsky, 's Dialogues and a Diary (London: Faber and Faber, 1968), pp. 66–67Google Scholar, in which he announced “my discovery in him, only very recently, of a new awareness of America. … Ives' music has told me more about what I think of as a peculiarly American feeling of isolation than the American outdoor novelists, Whitman or Walden, Miss Dickinson or Tuckerman. … I know too little of this composer who was exploring the 1960s during the hey-day of Strauss and Debussy.”

11. Bellamann, Henry and Chase, Gilbert in Chase, America's Music (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1954), p. 677Google Scholar. Among the many discussions of Ives's contemporaneity, see the sources cited in item 3, 18, 22, and 23 of the “Little Anthology,” note 6. Joseph Eger, struck by the comparison between Ives and the Beatles, writes in his rather curious analysis that they share “a naive, childlike openness, and an individualism spiked with missionary zeal. … The Beatles, in love with life, have expressed all this with [the same] pungent wit, good humor, and unerring intuition for contrast and eclecticism. … Ives's music—defiant, dissonant, individualistic, romantic—evidently strikes a parallel chord and supplies a similar exigency in today's music world.” Eger ranks Ives below Gershwin, on a par with Elgar and Norman Rockwell. The Beatles fare somewhat better. “Ives and Beatles,” Music Journal, 09 1968.Google Scholar

12. Appeals to paradox and irony, however, can sometimes be superficial, woefully inadequate substitutes for analysis, an issue I have addressed elsewhere: See Chmaj, Betty E., “Some Paradox! Some Irony!: The Changing Image of American Woman,” in The Study of American Culture: Contemporary Conflicts, ed., Luedtke, Luther (Deland, Fla.: Edward Everetts, 1977).Google Scholar

13. Wallach, Lawrence, “The Ives Conference: A Word from the Floor,” Current Musicology, 19 (1975), 32–36.Google Scholar

14. For an explanation of the relation of stream-of-consciousness to realism in Ives's music that resolves the apparent paradox, see Perry, , Ives and American Mind, Chaps. 3 and 4, esp. pp. 58–59.Google Scholar

15. Crunden, Robert, “Charles Ives' Innovative Nostalgia,” Choral Journal, 12 1974, pp. 5–12.Google Scholar

16. I saw the production of “Meeting Mr. Ives” at the American Conservatory Theatre, San Francisco, in 1976. Interviewing the cast afterward to discover how they came upon such incongruous interpretations, I learned that the authors had leaned heavily on Frank Rossiter's biography while the music itself inspired a more modern choreography.

17. It is suggestive to see the Essays as playing “road to Xanadu” to the Sonata, comparing Ives's intent and procedure to that of John Livingston Lowes in using Coleridge's Notebooks to trace the process of creativity that led to Kubla Khan.

18. Both originally published in 1920 by the Knickerbocker Press. The edition edited by Boatwright is the most widely used version of the Essays. There are at least two versions of the music, one copyrighted by Associated Music Publishers, New York, 1947, and one by Arrow Music, 1947; the latter includes marginal directions on it.

19. Ives, , Memos, pp. 79–80.Google Scholar

20. Quoted in Chase, , America's Music, p. 669.Google Scholar

21. Quoted in Perlis, , Ives Remembered, p. 215.Google Scholar

22. Ives, , Memos, p. 79.Google Scholar

23. Prologue to Essays, p. 3.Google Scholar

24. Carter, interviewed in June of 1969, in Perlis, , ed., Ives Remembered, p. 145Google Scholar. “The Case of Elliott Carter,” with respect to his opinion on Ives, is subject enough for a separate monograph, given his importance as a leading American composer who seems in some respects to be the Charles Ives of a later time. Originally an admirer, friend, and colleague, then a critic, Carter has changed and revised his views more than once. I have wondered whether these revisions have said as much about his own changing convictions about the direction of his own music as they say about Ives. See “The Case of Mr. Ives,” Modern Music, 03–04, 1939Google Scholar; “Shop Talk by an American Composer,” Musical Quarterly, 04 1960, pp. 189–201Google Scholar; and Perlis, , pp. 131–46.Google Scholar

25. Isham, Howard, “The Musical Thinking of Charles Ives,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, (Spring 1973), 397–98.Google Scholar

26. Brewster Ives, second oldest son of Joseph Moss Ives, Charles Ives's only brother, interviewed in January 1969 by Perlis (Ives Remembered, p. 74).Google Scholar

27. “Of these terms, ‘substance’ seems to us the most appropriate, cogent, and comprehensive for the higher, and ‘manner’ for the under-value. Substance in a human art-quality suggests the body of a conviction which has its birth in the spiritual consciousness, whose youth is nourished in the moral consciousness, and whose maturity as a result of all this growth is then represented in a mental image. This is appreciated by the intuition, and somehow translated into expression by ‘manner’” (Essays, “Epilogue,” p. 3).Google Scholar

28. See second sentence in note 27, above, and Perry, , Ives and American Mind, Chap. 3, esp. p. 48Google Scholar. The distress over Ives's definition of substance led Virgil Thomson to conclude that Ives merely meant sincerity. Thomson, , “The Ives Case,” p. 10.Google Scholar

29. Ives, Charles to Bellamann, Henry, letter in Musical Quarterly, 19, No. 1 (01 1933), p. 47.Google Scholar

30. Ives's insistence was necessary, for critics, conductors, musicians, and even copyists who did not understand his purpose were forever “correcting” his scores. His most famous marginal note, written to his copyist, appeared at the head of the manuscript for The Fourth of July: “Mr. Price: Please don't try to make things nice! All the wrong notes are right. Just copy as I have. I want it that way. CEI.”

31. Frankenstein, , “Charles Ives, Essays Before a Sonata,” in Landmarks of American Writing, ed., Hennig Cohen (Voice of America Forum Lectures, 1970), pp. 307–8.Google Scholar

32. See Henry Cowell's analysis in the Cowells' biography (and such discussions as “Current Chronicle,” Musical Quarterly [July 1949], 485–93) and compare a whole host of recent analyses, including Dumm, Robert, “Performer's Analysis of an Ives Piano Piece,” Clavier, 10 1974, pp. 21–25Google Scholar; Burk, James M., “Ives's Innovations in Piano Music,” Clavier, 10 1974, pp. 14–20Google Scholar; Cyr, Gordon, “Intervallic Structural Elements in Ives's Fourth Symphony,” Perspectives of New Music, 6 (1968)Google Scholar; Howard Isham, cited in note 25; and especially Marshall, Dennis, “Charles Ives's Quotations: Manner or Substance?” Perspectives of New Music, Spring-Summer 1968, 45–56Google Scholar. For added analytical insights into the Concord Sonata itself, see Fred Fisher's discussion of a pianist's problems in preparing to play the work (“can be a traumatic experience”) in Piano Quarterly, Winter 1975–1976, p. 23.Google Scholar

33. Actually, Harrison's discussion has two parts, for his appreciation of Ives's method grew as time went on. See Harrison, Lou, “On Quotation,” Modern Music, 23 (Summer 1946), 168Google Scholar, and his jacket notes for Sonatas for Violin and Piano, Philips World Series Stereo, PHC 2–002.

34. Marshall, , “Charles Ives Quotations,” pp. 45–46 and see note 32.Google Scholar

35. It is time to introduce Rollo, a name Ives gave to a point of view—sometimes represented by the orchestra's second violinist—which had, for him, political as well as musical connotations. Taken from a series of nineteenthcentury children's books in which the character is insufferably well-mannered, proper, and priggish, Rollo became a name Ives used in margins and essays (and personal letters, including one to President Franklin Roosevelt) whenever he wanted to attack or represent the essence of conservatism, gentility, effeminacy, and conformity. The term was usually used satirically, but when Ives tells the violinist to “go to town” in a passage where genuine sentiment in a hymn tune is required, Rollo speaks for his century and Ives betrays a certain affection for him. See Hitchcock, H. Wiley, Music in the United States (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1974), p. 154Google Scholar; the review of Ives's Essays in Music Quarterly, 01 1964, p. 101Google Scholar; Perry, , pp. 49–50Google Scholar; and “Don't Try to Please the Ladies, Rollo,” New York Times, 03 30, 1969, p. D19.Google Scholar

36. Ives's “Impressionist” and “Realist” identities are integrally related, a point made by Perry, , Ives and American MindGoogle Scholar, in her entire discussion, e.g., p. 59.

37. Thomson, , “The Ives Case,” p. 11.Google Scholar

38. The vague ambiguous endings have drawn the attention of others. Perry compares them to endings of realistic novels of Henry James, William Dean Howells, and Mark Twain. Kirkpatrick is intrigued by the way Ives's sentences “spin out and are a little bit reluctant to close” (quoted in Perlis, , ed., Ives Remembered, p. 219).Google Scholar

39. Anaphora means “the repetition of a word or musical idea at the beginning of clauses or phrases,” while hyperbaton is “the violation of the usual order of words, or in the case of music, the placing of the second phrase of the tune ahead of the first,” according to Perry, , Ives and American Mind, p. 51Google Scholar, who notices and defines these and other devices.

40. The quotation from Wright, the connection to Whitman, and a discussion of Wright's use of the twin images of mobility and serenity are all in Scully, Vincent, Frank Lloyd Wright (New York: Braziller, 1960).Google Scholar

41. The best discussion of unity is by Davidson, Audrey, “Transcendental Unity in the Works of Charles Ives,” American Quarterly, Spring, 1970, pp. 35–44.Google Scholar

42. Wilfrid Mellers's chapter on Ives in Music in a New-found Land (New York: Knopf, 1965)Google Scholar, from whose p. 56 I have quoted here, is still the best close analysis of the sonata; like Perry, I have relied upon it heavily.

43. Herrmann, Bernard and Harrison, Lou in Perlis, ed., Ives Remembered, pp. 161 and 200Google Scholar; Schloezer, Boris de in Rossiter, , Ives and His America, p. 231Google Scholar. Rossiter also quotes Gilbert Highet, Bernard Herrmann, and Elliott Carter (see item 11 in note 6) on the relation to Whitman, pp. 137, 247, 286.

44. Dumm, Robert, Clavier, 10 1974, p. 21.Google Scholar

45. Rossiter, , “Performer's Analysis,” Ives and His America, pp. 167–69, 94, 247, 203.Google Scholar

46. Perry, , Ives and American Mind, p. 85Google Scholar. See also source study in Wooldridge, , Steeples and Mountains, pp. 274–75.Google Scholar

47. Slonimsky is heard on Record V, “Reminiscences …” of the album Charles Ives, the 100th Anniversary (Columbia M4–32504) and in Perlis, , Charles Ives Remembered, pp. 152–53.Google Scholar

48. Wooldridge, , Steeples and Mountains, p. 305.Google Scholar

49. Ibid.

50. Mellers, , New-found Land, pp. 50–51.Google Scholar

51. John Kirkpatrick has recorded the work twice, originally in 1939 on Columbia ML-4250, more recently on Columbia MS 7192, which many critics call the best version. I like the recording by Aloys Kontarsky, recorded in Cologne, November 1961, released on Time Recording 58005/S-8005, which uses the flute (Kirkpatrick does not, feeling the flute's sound distracts from the music). Others available are by George Pappa-stravou (CRI 150) and Alan Mandel (Desto 6458/61); Wooldridge wishes William Masselos would record it, since he performed so well on the First Piano Sonata (see Wooldridge, , pp. 338–39Google Scholar); Ives himself is heard playing versions and excerpts on Record IV of the centenary album (Columbia M4–32504).

52. The word “diffidence” is used by Hitchcock, , Music in U.S., p. 168Google Scholar, to contrast Ives's own attitude toward the sonata to the enthusiasm of Boatwright, quoted in note 5.

53. Rossiter perceptively detects in Ives's inclination to discount his achievements and to rely on wit a strategy for camouflaging his extreme shyness. Check entries under “shyness” and “humor” in his index to Ives and His America, p. 405.Google Scholar

54. Mellers, , New-found Land, p. 49Google Scholar. Essays, “Epilogue,” 8Google Scholar, and Perry, , Ives and American Mind, p. 33.Google Scholar

55. Mellers, , New-found Land, p. 48Google Scholar, and Dumm, , “Performer's Analysis,” p. 21—see notes 32 and 44, above.Google Scholar

56. Kirkpatrick, and Chase, in Chase, pp. 668 and 676.Google Scholar

57. Kirkpatrick, in Perlis, , ed., Ives Remembered, p. 218Google Scholar.

58. Billy Phelps was Professor William Lyon Phelps of Yale, a former teacher of Ives, who reviewed the Essays favorably in 1920 in the Yale Alumni Weekly. The passage underscores Ives's admiration for Emerson's “courageous universalism” that always could be found beneath his “outward aspect of serenity”; it was probably the trait he admired most in his hero, and he sought to imbue the unknown pianist with it from the beginning with this comment. The note is one of many Harold C. Schonberg found when he came into possession of a copy of the first edition of the sonata upon which Ives had scribbled throughout. The scribblings are reported in Schonberg's article in the New York Times, March 30, 1969—hereinafter called “Marginalia.”

59. The best discussion of the Transcendentalist inner self as a mirror of the outer world in Ives is in Perry, who in turn cites the discussions in Chase and Mellers. The idea itself appears in Emerson's essays “Nature” (1836) and “The American Scholar” (1837). I am indebted to Chase, America's Music, for these examples of Ives's directions to the pianist and for the music illustration with the asterisk, which does not appear in all editions of the manuscript.

60. Cowells, , Charles Ives, p. 193Google Scholar, explains that when the longest verse section (starting on p. 8 of the Arrow Press edition) develops the lyric theme through a series of greater and greater leaps, the listener does not have as much difficulty following as might be expected because Ives widens the distances gradually and uses an ostinato bass harmonic figure to glue the whole together.

61. Thomson, , “The Ives Case,” pp. 9–11.Google Scholar

62. Carter's 1939 attack quoted by Rossiter, , Ives and His America, p. 286.Google Scholar

63. Frankenstein, , Ives's Essays, p. 311.Google Scholar

64. See, in Ives, , Memos, p. 81Google Scholar, n. 7, written by Kirkpatrick.

65. Mellers, , New-found Land, p. 53.Google Scholar

66. Ives quoted in Burk, , Clavier, p. 18Google Scholar, and Schonberg, , “Marginalia.”Google Scholar

67. Quoted in Chase, , America's Music, p. 671Google Scholar. The device being used in such passages is anacoluthon, according to Perry, , Ives and American Mind, pp. 51–52Google Scholar, who defines it as “the abandonment in the midst of a sentence of one type of construction in favor of one gramatically or musically different.” Perry compares Ives's procedure here to stream-of-consciousness writing (Faulkner or Joyce, for instance) and cites a passage from the Hawthorne movement as example.

68. The phrase appeared in Downes's review of the Fourth Symphony, the first such review in print, in the Sunday New York Times, 01 30, 1927Google Scholar, quoted in Wooldridge, , Steeples and Mountains, pp. 213–24.Google Scholar

69. The program notes for the Fourth Symphony, most of which appear on the record jacket of the recording by the American Symphony Orchestra under Leopold Stokowski, were originally written by Henry Bellamann in concert with Ives, then revised by Ives and printed in New Music, 2 (01 1929).Google Scholar

70. Ibid.

71. Schonberg, , “Marginalia.”Google ScholarMellers, , “Appendix,” New-found Land, p. 441.Google Scholar

72. Ibid. On Rollo, see note 35.

73. Bernard Herrmann is heard on Record V, Columbia centenary album.

74. Comer's public lecture, “Thoreau and Ives, with Specifics for This Time,” was given at Nassau Community College, 1967, and printed as a pamphlet in a curious but charming format, no publisher listed. Comer, caught up in his comparison, took Thoreau at his word and dressed in rough wool shirt, dungarees, and sandals for the lecture, provoking the pianist who performed the Thoreau movement on the same program to declare, to applause, “I'm not about to apologize for playing this music in a Tuxedo.” Comer writes that he sensed “suppressed hostility and sodden apathy” emanating from the audience, “punctuated by walkouts and by one lady shouting out loud.” It must have been quite a lecture.

75. Credit for discovering Thoreau's theories of music goes to Daniel E. Rider, “The Musical Thought and Activities of New England Transcendentalists” (Diss. Univ. of Minnesota, 1964), who is acknowledged by both Charles W. Ward (“Charles Ives's Concept of Music,” Current Musicology 18, [1974], 114–19Google Scholar), who shows how Ives used Thoreau, and Perry (Ives and American Mind, pp. 19–26Google Scholar), who points to elements from the writings of other Transcendentalists—Margaret Fuller, George W. Curtis, John S Dwight—as well as Thoreau as influences on Ives's concept of music.

76. Ward, , “Charles Ives,” p. 116Google Scholar. Perry, , Ives and American Mind, p. 23.Google Scholar

77. Ward, , “Charles Ives,” p. 116.Google Scholar

78. Rider paraphrased in ibid.

79. Thoreau quoted in ibid.

80. Hans Helms in jacket notes of the Kontarsky recording of the Concord Sonata, Time Recording 58005.

81. Mellers also seems to expect an acme of a different kind—Beethoven's kind. “Thoreau explores precisely that sublime and elemental simplicity that Beethoven entered in the Arietta of Opus 111 or the celestial folk-song that concludes the last of his quartets. The kind and range of experience are the same, though Thoreau merely seeks, where Beethoven finds.” Mellers, , Newfound Land, p. 54.Google Scholar

82. Perry, , Ives and American Mind, p. 48.Google Scholar

83. Brustein, Robert, “Drama in the Age of Einstein,” New York Times, 08 7, 1977, pp. D1, D22Google Scholar. Brustein cites works of Christopher Durang, Sam Shepard, and Robert Wilson as pointing toward the new postmodern drama suitable to the world of Einstein rather than Newton, works in which the relation of cause and effect is no longer the central concern.

84. Morgan, Robert in High Fidelity, 10 1974, p. 71.Google Scholar

85. Ibid.

86. Ibid. Morgan cites Richard Poirier's reference, in “The Literature of Waste: Eliot, Joyce and Others,” The Performing Self (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1971)Google Scholar, to Eliot's and Joyce's search for “what was later to prove inescapable: the multiple sounds not hitherto heard among sounds of high Western culture. Early on, they showed a hospitality to a more discordant variety of styles than had any writer before them in English.” Morgan argues that Ives did the same for Western music, giving “new significance to elements traditionally excluded from serious concert music.”

87. Helms, Hans G., “Charles Edward Ives—Ideal American or Social Critic?” Current Musicology, 19 (1975), 37–44.Google Scholar

88. See editor's note, Current Musicology, 19 (1975), 32.Google Scholar

89. Middleton, Richard, “Ives and Schoenberg: An English View,” Saturday Reuiew/World, 09 9, 1974, pp. 39–41.Google Scholar

90. Ibid. On the question of whether Ives ever heard Schoenberg, see Perlis, , Ives Remembered, p. 135Google Scholar. Ives had to make the point a number of times, about modernists thought to have influenced him, that he had never heard their works or did not respect what they were doing.

91. Middleton, , “Ives and Schoenberg,” p. 41.Google Scholar

92. Ibid.