DIPERT The Composer's Intentions: An Examination of Their Relevance For Performance

The Composer's Intentions: An Examination of Their Relevance for Performance
Author(s): Randall R. Dipert

Source: The Musical Quarterly, Vol. 66, No. 2 (Apr., 1980), pp. 205-218
Published by: Oxford University Press
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The Composer's Intentions:
An Examination of their
Relevance for Performance
RANDALL R. DIPERT
A PIECE ought toFrombethisperformed

to be performed." utterance - almostthe way
a cliche - hasthe composer intended it
arisen an entire school of thought concerning performance practice.
However, few authors and critics have questioned exactly what this
principle means. Fewer still have questioned its legitimacy (al-
though occasionally some heretic murmurs a protest).
What exactly are the composer's intentions? Do these intentions
ever conflict? If so, which intentions are we to follow? And, of course,
there is the most troubling question of all: Why ought we to follow
the composer's intentions with regard to performance? Although
there is an extensive discussion of the so-called "intentional fallacy"
in the aesthetics literature,' the difficult matter of the relation be-
tween a composer's intentions and the way a piece ought to be per-
formed needs further consideration.
In this essay, I propose to confront the question squarely and
hope to show that a composer's intentions are not so easily deter-
mined - as much of the performance-practice literature often as-
1 Especially the literature generated by W. K. Wimsatt, Jr., and Monroe C. Beardsley's

"The Intentional Fallacy," Sewanee Review (1946), pp. 468-88. Roughly, Wimsatt and Beards-
ley's position, applied to music, is as old as Eduard Hanslick's Vom Musikalisch-Sch6nen of
1854. For a discussion of the so-called "intentional fallacy" and intentionalist criticism, see
George Dickie, Aesthetics (Indianapolis, 1971), pp. 110-21. Also compare Edward T. Cone's
widely quoted remark, "Artistic quality, I fear, can only be determined by invoking the inten-
tional fallacy (which I consider no fallacy - unless it is the fallacy of believing that there is an
intentional fallacy)." E. T. Cone, Musical Form and Musical Performance (New York, 1968),
p. 93.
205
206 The Musical Quarterly
sumes - and that it is necessary to distinguish

performance intentions. In Part II, I shall attempt
more commonly believed - although usually unsp
tions for performing a piece the way a composer i
suspect and that the relevance of his intentions for p
fact limited. I restrict my discussion largely to diffic
ing the performance of music composed befor
century.2
Writers on performance practice propose to the performer that he

perform the music of a given composer or period in a certain manner
or on a certain instrument. Some writers offer this proposal condi-
tionally and neutrally: if the performer wants to perform the piece in
a historically accurate way, he might follow such a proposal. Other
writers are more direct and emphatic: this is the way the music ought
to be performed. In either case, the writer claims to be following the
composer's "intentions" concerning the piece's performance. For ex-
ample, a piece is to be played on the harpsichord rather than on the
piano, or on a tracker and not a pneumatic-action organ, or sung
without, or with very little, vibrato.
A classification of a composer's intentions will prove useful to
our discussion. His intentions concerning the means of production
of sound will be termed low-level intentions, which include the type
of instrument, fingering etc. Middle-level intentions are those that
concern the intended sound, such as temperament, timbre, attack,
pitch, and vibrato.
It is important to realize that low-level intentions do not neces-
sarily involve middle-level differences. For instance, suppose that we
have devised an electronic synthesizer which duplicates accurately
the sound of a fortepiano of Mozart's time. Its accuracy of duplica-
tion has been confirmed by listeners and by scientific analysis of the
sound waves produced by both instruments. Assuming that Mozart
had intentions of an unproblematic sort (this will be contested later)
and that his middle-level intentions were for the kind of sound pro-
duced by the fortepiano, then it is relatively clear that, if we were to
2 This does not reveal any particular prejudice for music of the past, but rather a realiza-
tion that the problems connected with music of the past differ from the problems connected
with music by living composers. See n. 9.
The Composer's Intentions 207
perform a Mozart keyboard work on the synthesize

preserving Mozart's middle-level intentions but not h
tentions. It is also possible to preserve a composer's lo
his middle-level intentions.3 It is thus possible to fol
intention and not the other.
To some, the entire discussion of low-level intentions might seem

absurd, since music involves sounds and, at least at first appearance,
not how they are produced. Yet discussions of low-level intentions
persist, even when these intentions do not result in any clear aural
differences. Many performance practices, such as designations of
keyboard action and registration, fingering, material, shape and
spacing of key or pedal board, and placement of damper controls, are
often taken to reflect the composer's intentions - even where no,
attempt is made to demonstrate how they result in a clear aural
difference. Some writers go so far as to claim explicitly that the piece
of music itself contains the composer's intention or indication re-
garding its means of sound production.4
My third and last category is termed high-level intentions which
are the effects that the composer intends to produce in the listener.
These effects can range from the perception of both tonal and formal
3 Particularly where large or unusual forces are employed, a composer may not know
exactly what sound will be produced by a certain scoring. Also, low-level intentions frequently
reveal compromises with the available instruments, whereas the intended sound is different
from what a composer expects the intended means of production to produce. For example, let
us suppose that J. S. Bach indicated that a prelude and fugue was to be played on the
clavichord, but wrote to his son Friedemann that he really wished that the sound could have a
wider dynamic range and be less metallic than the sounds produced by the instruments avail-
able to him. Bach's low-level intention, that is to perform the work on a clavichord, expresses
his judgment concerning the best instrument then available on which his middle-level inten-
tion could be realized. If we perform the work on a period clavichord, we are preserving Bach's
low-level intentions but are ignoring his middle-level intentions, and if we perform it, say, on a
piano, we are abiding by his middle-level intentions at the (small) expense of his nevertheless
reluctant low-level intentions.
4 J. Levinson, in a recent paper read at the 1978 Western Division meetings of the Ameri-
can Philosophical Association, "What a Musical Work Is," baldly defends the thesis that
low-level intentions, and the middle-level intentions, are of primary significance for the indivi-
duation of distinct musical works: "Composers in general, e.g. Beethoven, do not describe pure
sound patterns in qualitative terms, leaving their means of production undiscussed.... The
score of Beethoven's Quintet, Opus 16, is not a recipe for providing an instance of a sound
pattern per se, in whatever way you might like. Rather, it instructs one to produce an instance
of a certain sound pattern through carrying out certain operations on certain instruments." I
do not think Levinson's thesis is tenable, but I do believe that the view he expresses is an
important one - one which makes legitimate my separation of low- and middle-level
intentions.
relationships to the particular emotional respon

evoke. High-level intentions often embody the nobl
composer (although less noble purposes are also
when a composer writes grandiose music to cur
prince).
Perhaps, before we continue, we should examine the notion of
intention. Intentions of an individual are often quite complex. We
are all aware that our personal goals, purposes, and beliefs, and the
actions necessary to achieve them, are often in conflict. We can expect
composer's intentions to be no less complex.
Some high-minded intentions are purposes.5 Purposes are "final"
intentions, not obviously justified by their expediency in bringing
about the objects of further intentions or purposes. Only what I call
high-level intentions could reasonably be called the "purpose" of a
composer in writing a composition. (And perhaps only some high-
level intentions are purposes.) The composer's high-level intentions
might be to entertain or inspire us, to move us to tears, or to have us
grasp a certain abstract musical structure. Depending on circumstan-
ces, any one of these intentions could be called a purpose.
Since only high-level intentions can ever be considered purposes,
understanding a composer's purposes is more important than fol-
lowing his nonpurposeful - that is, low- or middle-level - inten-
tions. For example, there is a sense in which a composer, strictly
speaking, has no performance "purposes." For if he did, he would be
somewhat satisfied even if his piece were performed correctly (accord-
ing to low- and middle-level intentions) without listeners! This is
clearly not the case. No composer would be even partly satisfied by
the fulfillment of only his low- or middle-level intentions without an
audience. If we obtain reasons for following a composer's intentions,
we should follow first and primarily his high-level intentions. To do
otherwise is to follow the letter and not the spirit of his intentions.6
s The notion of a purposeful intention is examined by J. W. Meiland, in The Nature of

Intention (London, 1970), pp. 7 ff. Meiland call it a "purposive" intention.
6 I do not pretend that a composer consciously and carefully makes each of these decisions
about how to achieve his purpose. He might rather, in one mental step, go from the desired
effect to the scoring and intended means of sound production. A good composer, working
quickly, undoubtedly makes these decisions unconsciously. Nor need his purposes in a piece be
fully definite before he begins setting musical ideas on paper. Often, the purpose of a piece may
unfold only as the piece itself becomes more definite. Also, the high-level intentions, and even
the purposes, might themselves be inconsistent or incapable of joint realization.
We usually have the most reliable and extensive

about a composer's low-level intentions. Consequent
tentions (and some middle-level intentions) form the
much of the performance-practice literature relies.
usually indicates in a score the intended medium of
and often we have some understanding of the design
tion of the instruments which were intended to be e
ever, the difficulties in determining even this informat
mously compounded with regard to early music and
periods and places about which we know very little.
have still less information about a composer's midd
tions. What sounds did he hear in his head? Was he satisfied with the
instruments and performers of his day? These difficulties exist be-
cause his scores are usually more accessible to us than any informa-
tion pertaining directly to middle-level intentions such as conversa-
tions with performers, complaints about stiff instrumental action,
and his imagined world of sound. Also, however little the data we
have about a composer's middle-level intentions, we usually have
even less about his high-level intentions. Sometimes he may not even
be able to articulate his high-level intentions even if we could ask
him. Most often we must determine high-level intentions from bio-
graphical fragments or letters, or, somewhat more reliably, deter-
mine the musical "point" of the work from the score itself. The latter
is probably more accurate. After all, because a composer is a profes-
sional at expressing himself musically, this does not necessarily
mean he is verbaity articulate. Even when we have somehow
determined the high-level intentions behind a piece, we are fre-
quently unable to express it clearly and precisely in language. Thus
it is evident that there is an inherent bias toward the concrete and
relatively easily determined low- and middle-level intentions.
This bias is in some respects unfortunate, since it is a composer's
high-level intentions (some of which are purposes) whose realization
is clearly more important. But there are further difficulties. Very
often in the performance of music of the past it is impossible to fulfill
all of a composer's intentions. The combined realization of either
high- and low-level intentions or middle- and high-level intentions
is impossible. I do not mean a mere practical impossibility, such as
the nonexistence today of castrati.
A clear example of the impossibility of a combined realization of
different levels of intentions exists when an instr

mental combination) no longer has the effect i
educated listener. One of the early uses of the clari
Gluck, was probably to startle an audience and to m
musical line by stating it in an unfamiliar timbre
form a work of Gluck's with the originally scored
preserving his low-level intehtion but are sacrific
one. Modern audiences are completely acclimate
sound, and its shock value is completely lost. Possib
be partially compensated for by requiring the clar
line in an unusual way, for example, especially
technique would probably defy another low-lev
Gluck's. Even if it were printed in the program notes
should try to hear the clarinet as if he had never hear
doubtful that a modern listener could respond na
matically to the "strange" sound of the clarinet. H
strange the clarinet must have sounded, but he canno
More imaginatively, we might preserve Gluck's h
tion at the expense of his low-level one by playing
on a new instrument such as a synthesizer. It probabl
modern audience and highlight the line. This exam
difficult it is to play a work "the way the composer i
played" when we try to take into account all of his
The example is not an isolated case. Listeners
the elements in hearing and understanding a perf
rapidly over a period of time. New music is always be
intervenes between us and our understanding of
significance and implications of certain harmonie
bres, and rhythms change and are placed in a new
short time, indeed, audiences hear works different
even say, they hear different works. We must
Thurston Dart when he writes that a modern musician's "musical
experience has been warped away from the present towards the pas
yet the sonorities he hears and the symbols he sees in front of him ar
those of his own time, so that the past itself is set askew."7 This
widely recognized fact presupposes that the joint realization o
middle- (or low-) level intentions and high-level intentions is ofte
impossible.
7 Thurston Dart, The Interpretation of Music (New York, 1954; reprint, 1963), p. 163.
I want at this point to clarify the point I am trying to m

not proposing that we ignore all of a composer's low-leve
if we have the slightest information about his high-lev
Rather, I claim that the maximal satisfaction of low-level in
does not make a performance "legitimate" and, in fact, m
what the composer regarded as more important intentio
that many of the so-called "romanticized" and "impure
ances of pre-Baroque, Baroque, and Classical music - no
tion drastic arrangements, harmonizations, and reorch
such as Stokowski's - have a strong defense in their pr
of high-level over low-level intentions. (True, many pe
lack any defense.) On the other hand, in many cases, the
formances, especially of early music, that preserve onl
intentions in fact preserve little - and the least profou
composer's intentions.
This does not mean that I do not laud recent perform
attempt to perform pieces in the (low-level) manner in'
were performed in their own time. They have ushered
number of alternative, informative, and sometimes aes
superior, performance schools. But I do object to the pr
fidelity to low-level intentions is essential for a "correct
ance. Such fidelity is neither necessary, nor sufficient, for
performance. I even adhere to the belief, which I will d
that we have no special obligation to preserve even the h
intentions of a composer.
Another serious difficulty awaiting those seeking to
composer's intentions concerns that of determining wha
tions were. Often, it is simply assumed that any indicati
composer as to how his piece should be played is the
careful choice by him - that he had the best instrument
that he thought this was the easiest fingering, method of s
whatever. However a composer - even a great one - sometimes
does not make a careful and explicit decision about many of the
factors with which the performance-practice literature concerns it-
self. Unfortunately, any bit of information about how a composer
once casually indicated or reflected that he wished his pieces to be
performed is automatically upgraded into performance "intentions"
to be obeyed at all costs. The extent of this practice is generally
proportional to the deification of the composer.
There are instances where one must balk at calling all indications
"intentions" or even "wishes" of the composer. If

indication that he carefully and deliberately eval
options - a variety of instruments, fingerings, o
pressed his preference for one of these, then we h
can plausibly call an intention. However, if the c
choice from among a small selection, or did so with
tion, then it is doubtful that we should glorify with
tion" his indication of the way he at one time thou
be played. Intentions, after all, have to be intenti
the less conscious, informed, or deliberate the com
the less strong is our prima facie obligation to follow
Some readers might resent the implicit admission
a Mozart, a Bach, or a Beethoven did not know w
My claim is that actually we often have no way of kn
were aware of what they were doing in some respe
of a Beethoven rests in large part on our opinion
aspects of his music; it is not at all obvious that
judge of pianos and piano sounds. (Because of his
ness, it is doubtful that Beethoven in his later years
any instrument then available.) Thus we change
piano sonata with considerable risk of lowering the ae
the piece, while we can probably safely deviate fro
preference for Broadwood pianos with much less r
II
In this part, I shall confront the question of why we should want

to play a piece the way a composer intended it to be played.
At the outset I distinguish three possible answers to this question.
The first asserts that we have a moral obligation to tle composer to
play his music according to his intentions. The second holds that
music, like other artifacts of a time and place, embodies the Zeitgeist
of that period, and to understand the period properly, the historical
artifact (in this case, a performance) must be correctly reconstructed.
The third answer - and the one to which I am most sympathetic
- claims that generally speaking we are likely to perform a piece of
greater aesthetic merit if we follow the composer's intentions than if
we do not.
Let us consider our moral obligations to a composer, say Mozart.
We may first observe that in spheres other than music moral obliga-
tions to long-dead individuals are exceedingly rare. Napo

be impressive, but one is unlikely to feel any moral oblig
goal of the unification of Europe. Or, if by studying Nap
realized for the first time the desirability of unifying Euro
feel no obligation to implement his exact plan for do
might have other reasons; the belief, for example, that
unification is a wise economic goal. What is at issue here,
the degree of our moral obligations to our predecessors to
wishes. And the answer appears to be that we have very littl
moral obligations to them.8
In music, however, the notion persists that we owe it t
to perform his pieces the way he wished them to be perf
basis of this alleged duty is elusive. Actually, upon reflec
clear that we have no more moral duty to a composer to
piece the way he intended than we had to Napoleon. We m
a moral (and perhaps even a legal) obligation to an aud
identify correctly the composer of a piece, for example w
cadenzas of a concerto are by the performer (Beethoven)
else (Czerny), but this duty is easily discharged.
The arguments for the claim that we have no moral ob
to the composer are diverse. We have observed how few are t
obligations to our predecessors in other fields of human
and it is doubtful that music is unique in this respect. T
there are many composers whose music we rarely or ne
Certainly they had intentions to have their music perfo
probably were not very particular about how), intentions
guiltlessly ignore. Finally, there are intentions of even g
posers which we have disobeyed, or would disobey if we
example composers' often-expressed wishes to have scores
The moral-obligation theory appears to be untenable.9
A second reason given for following a composer's per
intentions is that we will then have an unobstructed view of his soul
or of his time. It might be argued that a Mozart sonata, played on the
fortepiano in the stylistically correct manner, would give the listener
8 Aristotle seems to agree. See Book I, Chap. 11, of the Nicomachean Ethics (l101a
19-110lb 9), where he concludes that we cannot greatly affect the fortunes of the dead, implying
that our moral obligations to them are very few.
9 The situation is quite otherwise with regard to living, or recently deceased, composers.
For by failing to perform a piece the way a composer intended can well detract from his
reputation and even adversely affect his income and happiness (or those of his heirs).
a clearer insight than he would otherwise have into

into his epoch. This supposed justification, how
legitimizes a strict adherence to a composer's low
intentions.
Some critics who are interested in a "correct" performance as a
window to the past are particularly concerned with a composer or a
period because of that composer's or that period's musical accom-
plishments. Their historical interest derives from a musical or
aesthetic interest. Even if such a performance lowers the aesthetic
appeal of a piece for a present-day listener - although it is truer to
the composer's or period's intentions - then in their view what has
been sacrificed is justified by their interest in the composer or epoch.
They have sacrificed some of the aesthetic appeal of the music in
order to present a truer picture of the times. They have thrown the
baby out with the bath water. On the other hand, if such a "correct"
performance enhances or does not interfere with the aesthetic appeal
of the piece for a modern listener, then there is ample justification of
the practice solely in terms of what is aesthetically appealing. But
this argument holds only for those whose historical interest derives
from an aesthetic interest.
There are also those whose historical interest is not derived from,
or based on, an aesthetic interest. They argue that the window-on-
the-past theory fails to justify completely our heeding of a com-
poser's low-level intentions because it relies on a distinction made in
Part I of this essay. Presumably, they feel that to obtain the clearest
and most profound picture of an individual composer or period, we
must rekindle the finest and deepest aspects of the music. For reasons
involving the impossibility of fulfilling all of a composer's inten-
tions, our most expeditious course in the performance of music
should then be to preserve the high-level intentions of a composer or
period at the expense of low- and middle-level intentions. This ar-
gument claims that the historical approach does not justify the pres-
ervation of low-level intentions.
The above discussion relies on a distinction between a "histori-
cal" and an "aesthetic" approach to the performance of music. T
distinction is perhaps not as clear as one would like, but there is
clearly an intuitive distinction. (There are no doubt other approach
such as a religious justification.) One might say that a person
whose approach to music is entirely aesthetic would like to pro-
duce a performance of a work which is as beautiful, interesting, or
pleasing as possible, and one whose approach is h

like to produce a performance which is as authen
The two approaches can clearly conflict, notably wh
cally authentic performance (at the low, middle, or
not the aesthetically "best" possible performance.
clearly perceives this difficulty: "When we listen to
interested in the music, or in an authentic eighteent
formance? The two interests coincide only up to a ce
I shall not decide which of these two approaches
"better." We shall assume that both are legitimate.
tempt to show that the historical approach does not j
to perform music in a way which fulfills the compos
for the long-range goals of the antiquarians are impo
The primary goal of musical antiquarians who att
form music of the past "correctly" is obviously not
performances but to duplicate hearings. That is, th
merely to recreate sounds as they were once produced,
as nearly as possible the experience, the way music was
was composed. It seems that this goal will always rem
that adherence to low-level, or even high-level, inten
only a step in the right direction, a step so small that o
it justifies the enormous efforts which have been m
plish it.
For it appears to be impossible to hear music the way it was once
heard. Today's listener has heard much more music than a listener in
the past because of, among other things, the existence of recordings.
This fact cannot help but affect the way in which a piece is heard.
The history of a piece of music will alter the way we hear it as will
our own theories about this piece's place in music history - where it
came from and what it led to. Any early use of an instrument or
compositional technique no longer startles us or strikes us as revolu-
tionary, as it did listeners of its period (for instance, the example of
Gluck's clarinets). Of course we can calculate how a piece once af-
fected listeners, but we cannot really duplicate the same effect. And it
is the duplication of hearings that once affected the audiences which
the musical antiquarian so desperately tries to achieve.
Philosophers of history such as Hegel, von Ranke, and Dilthey
have despaired of recreating the spirit of an age, or the "feel" of what
10 Charles Rosen, The Classical Style (New York, 1971), p. 106.
it was like to live in'an age different from one's ow

much effort describe the past, but one cannot recre
ments of Hegel and others apply with special force
sounds are so intimately interpreted by the listener.
The correct balance between the aesthetic and
proaches is not one which can easily be settled by
Most interpreters probably combine the two. It is
edged, for example, and I do not deny, that the study o
a piece and its background sharpens and heightens i
rience. However, from the point of view of maxim
interest, the study of a piece's history eventually r
greatly diminishing returns, and many scholars hav
ably beyond this point. However, even for the most co
cal antiquarian," it can hardly be denied that most
thetic appeal." So the existence of even the slightest ae
ought logically to place some constraints on attem
composer's intentions when these attempts would damage the
music's aesthetic appeal.
A third possible answer to the question, "Why should we perform
a piece the way a composer intended?," can be stated succinctly:
generally speaking, it sounds better that way. This answer in turn
has two distinct lines of defense, but by no means does it follow that
we ought always to follow a composer's intentions. Instead, the
answer contains a statistical generalization ("generally speaking")
and is greatly qualified. Let us suppose that composers have unprob-
lematic intentions. The difficulties discussed above could perhaps be
minimized by weighting a cross section of low-, middle-, and high-
level intentions according to the degree of conviction in which the
composer held them, giving preference to known high-level inten-
tions, etc.
Generally speaking, there are two distinct reasons why following
the composer's intentions will enhance the quality of performance.
First, we can assume that they reflect an intelligent decision on his
part of how best to perform the work. He no doubt had a clearer idea
11 This view is endorsed by D. F. Tovey: "Speaking loosely, we may call any knowledge'
historical that saves us from misinterpretation, or that enables us to distinguish the synthetic
products of a syndicate of nineteenth-century ballad-concert accompanists from a genuine
'gem of antiquity'; but the relevant part of this knowledge is concerned, not with history, but
with the contents of the genuine antique objects." "Normality and Freedom in Music," in The
Main Stream of Music and Other Essays (New York, 1949), p. 193.
of what he was trying to do than we do, and had the co

achieve this goal in musical terms. However, the stren
argument is proportional to our opinion of the musical
composer. It might also be necessary for us to make n
ments of a composer's talent in a particular area. He
superb pianist and an acknowledged master of piano mu
abilities and experience in orchestrating are limited
Schumann come to mind); in such a case, it is quite pos
could improve a piano concerto by changing the orches
tampering with the piano part would involve greater ris
assumes that our purpose is primarily "aesthetic" - to p
piece in such a way that it sounds the best and still compli
score - and not "extra-aesthetic," such as to show that t
was a poor orchestrator,
A second reason to follow a composer's intention is t
had decided, for example, to write a piece for a harpis
certain design, the piece which resulted w-s "written
strument. The piece was designed to show a particular in
its best light and contains features which are particular
for performance on it. (Possibly the instrument had ce
nesses which are not exposed in the work.) Both reasons
ing a composer's intentions derive from two methods
tion. In the first, he has ideas of how his piece should
and sets about orchestrating, fingering, phrasing, etc
how it is best to be performed. In the second, the com
decides upon the medium in which he will compose and
the piece to suit this medium. Most composers, of cou
these two methods.
The second reason is, like the first, frequently exaggerated. Just as
we cannot simply assume that a composer made the wisest decision
concerning the medium or style of performance, so too we cannot
simply assume that the piece was written for just this particular
instrument and cannot profit by performance on another instrument.
In the absence of concrete evidence that the composer made the wisest
choice of medium or style, or that the piece was written for a specific
instrument and would profit greatly by being played on it, we are
either enslaving ourselves to extra-aesthetic values, or are exhibiting
blind faith and irrational trust in a composer. Reasons for following
a composer's intentions might be the result of experimentation (we
may have experimented and discovered that following his intentions
usually means a better performance), knowledg

strengths and weaknesses in this piece, and the discov
which are clearly best perceived when performed
manner. In the latter case, however, the discovery
does not necessarily entail performing the work
instrument or in the intended manner. The value of
ducing these features might be compensated for b
eral or desirable middle-level or high-level intenti
covered feature may not be. of sufficient merit to w
reproducing it (e.g., a trivial "cuckoo" motive wh
avian on a harpsichord than on a piano).
In being swayed only by the aesthetic reason f
composer's intentions, we are in a sense following
one, of his highest high-level intentions: to affect
most positive manner. This intention, at least for l
posers, was probably more deeply held than any p
tion or intention as to what constituted the best perf
For the most part, I have discussed "performan
which are, by and large, a composer's intentions
should he played but which are not explicitly indic
In Part I, we discovered several possible pitfa
piece the way a composer intended," including the
frequently no single, consistent way to fulfill all
That is, there is no single way to perform a piece the
wished. In Part II we found that the moral and historical reasons to
perform a piece the way a composer intended were either invalid or
very sharply restricted.
A third reason, the aesthetic argument, was found to be attractive
but heavily qualified. Whether any of these difficulties will slow the
increasingly fashionable race to "perform music the way the com-
poser intended" remains to be seen."2
121I wish to thank Dale Jamieson and Larry Archbold for their helpful comments. I thank
especially my friend David R. Beveridge for having discussed many of the issues with me at
length, and for having read patiently previous drafts, offering extremely valuable advice.

DIPERT The Composer's Intentions: An Examination of Their Relevance For Performance

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DIPERT The Composer's Intentions: An Examination of Their Relevance For Performance

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The Composer's Intentions: An Examination of Their Relevance for Performance

Author(s): Randall R. Dipert

A PIECE ought toFrombethisperformed

1 Especially the literature generated by W. K. Wimsatt, Jr., and Monroe C. Beardsley's

sumes - and that it is necessary to distinguish

Writers on performance practice propose to the performer that he

perform a Mozart keyboard work on the synthesize

To some, the entire discussion of low-level intentions might seem

relationships to the particular emotional respon

s The notion of a purposeful intention is examined by J. W. Meiland, in The Nature of

We usually have the most reliable and extensive

different levels of intentions exists when an instr

I want at this point to clarify the point I am trying to m

"intentions" or even "wishes" of the composer. If

In this part, I shall confront the question of why we should want

tions to long-dead individuals are exceedingly rare. Napo

a clearer insight than he would otherwise have into

pleasing as possible, and one whose approach is h

10 Charles Rosen, The Classical Style (New York, 1971), p. 106.

it was like to live in'an age different from one's ow

of what he was trying to do than we do, and had the co

usually means a better performance), knowledg

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