The Evolution of the Offstage Musician

Verdi’s glorious Messa da Requiem (1874)[1] is perhaps best known for its Dies Irae which, aside from memorably depicting the power of its words through the music, also contains the musical phenomenon of off-stage performers.  Verdi was by no means the first major composer to make use of this method nor indeed the last, but it is easy to overlook the heritage of this small area of performance practice.  With that in mind I intend to examine its roots within the antiphonal textures famously created at the Basilica di San Marco, Venice, developed heavily by Andrea and Giovanni Gabrieli in the 16^th and early 17^th Century.  I intend to explore some of the social and technical reasons for particular instruments (mainly brass) being used where off-stage musicians are desired.  My specific aim in examining this topic is to gain a greater understanding of the off-stage musician as both a dramatic and musical gesture.

It is generally accepted that the concept of off-stage musicians developed from the textured compositional techniques of the late renaissance.  St. Mark’s Cathedral, Venice played a central role in its development owing to the grand architecture, specifically the large number of choir lofts.  This fascinating feature inspired the development of a new style of music: that of polychoral performance.  The basic premise was a simple one, making use of the choir lofts to house different groups of singers or instrumentalists, thereby creating a more complex texture rooted in the contrapuntal traditions of previous generations.  As a musical device it was developed by the numerous Maestri di Capella, most notably the Gabrieli dynasty of Andrea and his nephew Giovanni, much of whose work survives to this day.

The distinct lack of literature on this subject makes it difficult to fill the gaps between the Gabrielis and later composers using similar techniques.  It is likely that some of Antonio Vivaldi’s Double Concertos would have made use of stage positioning in order to enhance the performance, but without solid evidence this is simply speculation based on Vivaldi’s compositional style.  Arguably the most likely such composition would be his Double Trumpet Concerto rv537 (c. 1710), although it is impossible to construct a precise date for the work owing to a lack of reliable information.  Despite the scarcity of written evidence to support such speculation, the conversational nature of the writing would suggest that the two soloists be placed apart from each other, creating a primitive stereo effect.  Whether Vivaldi intended this as part of his compositions is unknown, but his background as a priest would have exposed him to the call and response style of the sung liturgy, thereby influencing his compositional style.

The idea of placing musicians in different locations within a performance space remained an uncommon device for some time, no doubt due in part to the exclusive function of musical entertainment at the time.  Outside the sacred choral setting of a Cathedral like St. Mark’s, the idea of using off-stage performers in an orchestral setting did not flourish until much later, when music began to be deemed an art form rather than simply entertainment.  The transition towards this new “Art Music”, demanding dedicated performance of particular works, does not correspond neatly with any set date, but it has been found that London’s earliest specific performance space, or concert hall, was built in 1678.

The significance of this development is possible to detect in one of the earliest documented examples of instructed off-stage performance: Handel’s Messiah (1742).  Originally premièred in Dublin, the work was subject to numerous revisions by the composer, making it hard to pinpoint the most authentic edition.  However it is one of his later revisions, the Watkins Shaw [2], that bears particular relevance in this case, one that bears the instruction “da lontano e un poco piano” for the trumpets in part 1, number 17: “Glory to God”.  Literally translated this instruction reads “from far away and a little quietly” and it is generally accepted by specialists that this instruction is one of the first to suggest off-stage performance.  It is impossible to know whether this instruction was added purely as a musical device, or because the performance space permitted it.  However it is clear that in past times such devices were seldom used, owing to the limitations placed upon the composer by their patron’s venue and the perception of music as light entertainment.

At this point it is crucial to make brief mention of another musical device which, rather than placing musicians fully off-stage, simply demands that musicians be placed outside of their usual positioning.  In the case of opera, this often manifested itself in the form of groups of musicians performing on-stage alongside the singers.  Mozart famously made use of this in the ballroom scene of his opera Don Giovanni (1787) in which three ensembles perform the dance music on-stage, giving an authentic impression of a ballroom setting.  Interestingly, similar gestures have been used outside of the dramatic setting of opera, notably Berlioz’s Requiem (1837); Prokofiev’s Cantata for the 20^th Anniversary of the October Revolution (1937); and the lesser known Sinfonia Sacra by Panufnik (1966).  The effect is quite different in each instance, Berlioz’ss work clearly depicting the power of the sacred texts much like Verdi’s own Requiem, with Berlioz choosing to use four choirs of brass at each corner of the orchestra.  By contrast, Prokofiev’s work for the most part requires a bold and militant sound from an additional stage band, as befits the events described throughout the work.  Panufnik’s differs yet again, being arguably closest to antiphonal roots via the use of four solo trumpets, one at each corner of the orchestra. 

Despite Mozart’s use of staged bands in the 18^th Century, it was not until the mid-19^th Century that the idea of fully off-stage performers began to become a part of the mainstream.  Beethoven famously used off-stage trumpet calls in two of his three Leonore overtures (1805/1806) which, limited to the harmonic series of the natural trumpet, provided a rousing heraldic fanfare in the distance.  It was not until the development of the valve and the subsequent possibilities of chromaticism that off-stage parts became more complex.

Dating from ancient times, there are records that instruments similar to modern brass instruments were frequently used for ceremonial fanfares in noble circles.  Brass instruments have often also been used to topically represent military trumpet and bugle calls which have been used since Roman times to signal tactical changes in open warfare.  Thus it is not surprising that Strauss used an off-stage trumpet call to signify the start of battle in Ein Heldenleben (1899), or Prokofiev in Lieutenant Kije (1934) to similar effect.  This military heritage also goes some way to explaining the use of distant bugle calls in the staging of some of Shakespeare’s plays and indicates widespread understanding of the topical gesture even in his time, long before the ascendency of “Art Music”.  The use of off-stage instruments in a theatrical setting dispenses with ensemble related problems often encountered with musical compositions.

Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique is a particularly important work for trumpeters as it was the first orchestral work to fully incorporate the valve, rather than the more primitive keyed and open-hole instruments of earlier years.  Following Berlioz’s rousing Requiem, many composers began to take the idea of specially positioned performers a step further, removing them completely from the stage, to interesting effect.  Wagner made extensive use of the idea in operas such as Lohengrin, where he remarkably uses a vast array of brass, woodwind, percussion and even a harp off-stage.  Perhaps the most curious of the 19^th Century off-stage parts is in Berlioz’s descriptive Symphonie Fantastique (1830), which is unusual in that it makes use of a part for solo off-stage oboe.  The majority of orchestral composers remained somewhat less adventurous with the idea, electing to limit the off-stage role to brass, with works such as Verdi’s Messa da Requiem using trumpets; several of Mahler’s epic symphonies, such as Symphony No. 2 “Resurrection” (1895) combining trumpet and horn aspects and Symphony No. 3 (1902) with its famous posthorn solo; Strauss’ military calls in Ein Heldenleben  and the huge off-stage hunting party in Eine Alpensinfonie (1915); Respighi’s Pines of Rome (1924) with off-stage trumpet, and Prokofiev’s use of the solo cornet in Lieutenant Kijé.

There is something altogether unique about the sound of an off-stage instrument and it is likely that this, rather than any other factor, has contributed the most to its increased popularity.  Distance, especially when tempered with the physical obstacles of stage doors and corridoors, muffles the sound and unsurprisingly also gives the impression of the music being some distance away.  This audio effect therefore adds an almost ethereal quality to even the most simple melody which can, when combined with aspects of emotive harmony, create a wide range of emotions which perhaps could not be achieved in the same way by an on-stage performer.

Lieutenant Kijé for example opens and closes the suite with a beautiful cornet solo.  Whilst the off-stage part remains virtually unaltered between the first and fifth movements, it is first used to symbolise the fictitious “birth” of Kijé before then being re-used to represent a memorial to Kijé’s life, resulting in an incredibly poignant close at Kijé’s “death”.  The Tuba Mirum from Verdi’s Messa da Requiem, when performed fully off-stage, provides an unexpected and haunting sound which ably echoes the call to judgement on the Dies Irae (Day of Wrath).  It is possible to evoke a wide range of feelings such as love, mourning, retribution or even purely the perception of beauty, when the off-stage writing is combined with its on-stage accompaniment. 

This malleability in sounds as a result of off-stage performance can help to transform a piece of music from the banal to sublime if used correctly, yet as musicologist Maurice Brown commented, there is a certain risk that it can become an ‘overused cliché[3] when mistreated.  This statement resonates when considering the massive sections used in some of the later examples of off-stage music such as the 12 horns, 2 trumpets and 2 trombones used in Strauss’ Eine Alpensinfonie.  Whilst the orchestration throughout many of Strauss’ works continues to be regarded as exceptionally high quality, the opulent size of the off-stage band might seem a little superfluous, especially when compared with the onstage forces, numbering only 8 horns!

As intriguing as the sound of off-stage musicians can be, their very placement off-stage also helps to explain why it is uncommon to find instruments outside the brass, wind or percussion family being used for such roles.  At the most basic level, any off-stage instrument must be able to project their sound sufficiently for it to carry from their distant location to the expectant audience.  Whilst there is something unmistakably moving about the sound produced by a solo string player, the sound produced is not direct enough to ensure that it could carry the distance without the use of artificial amplification.  On the other hand Wind and Brass instruments are, by design, direct in the delivery of their sound so that, even with the backwards-facing bell of the French Horn, it is possible to produce a sufficiently powerful sound that will carry with even as few as one instrumentalist off-stage.

Any amount of research into this area of performance practice will return few results, no doubt due to its relatively subsidiary role in music down the ages.  It is fascinating therefore to unearth links running back as far as Shakespeare’s plays and the sacred music of the 16^th and 17^th Centuries.  It is also clear that when approaching the idea of off-stage music in dramatic or musical terms, the two are not so very dissimilar.  On a purely physical level the sound of the music is distorted, but this creates certain characteristics which enhance the piece both with regard to the musical texture created but also the way in which the audience responds to it.  Without the need to visually enact specific events or occurrences, the composer is able to invoke imagery in the mind of the listener thereby creating a dramatic device to enhance the power of the music.  By using such a gesture the musician is handed a potent means to communicate with their audience in a new way and although perhaps it is not as widely used as it could be, it remains a fascinating enhancement to the traditional orchestra.

Sam Lewis © 2010

[1] N.B. All dates refer to the first public performance of the work

[2] Published by Novello ©1960, based on Handel’s revisions for its London performances

[3] Maurice Brown. "Schubert's 'Fierrabras'” in The Musical Times, Vol. 112, No. 1538 (Apr. 1971), 338-339