As an analyst, pianist and listener, Janet Schmalfeldt experiences form in music as a process. Found within In the Process of Becoming: Analytic and Philosophical Perspectives on Form in Early Nineteenth-Century Music is Schmalfeldt's convincing argument that, as a work unfolds, elements of form change their roles and become something else.Footnote ¹ The culmination of several highly regarded publications and invited lectures over the course of almost 20 years, In the Process of Becoming is a strong and compelling study of form and its function in the early nineteenth century.Footnote ²

Published in 2011, In the Process of Becoming, and the important contributions that Schmalfeldt makes in it, already has gained recognition; in 2012, the book received two prestigious honours, the ASCAP-Deems Taylor Award and the Society for Music Theory's Wallace Berry Award. Furthermore, scholars already have started to use this monograph in thoughtful studies on Schumann, form of the Classical era, and further examinations of music theory and analysis in general.Footnote ³ Schmalfeldt has justly been recognized not only for her use of philosophy as lens through which to analyse nineteenth-century music and culture, an approach often taken by musicologists, but also for her ability to apply this connection to analysis of the works themselves, a method that many musicologists could perhaps use in their own studies.

Composed of nine chapters, this book can be divided into two parts. Chapters 1–4 establish Schmalfeldt's analytic and historical background and foundation – she introduces her mode of analysis (the idea of one element ‘becoming’ something else) grounded in the Beethoven-Hegelian tradition, and outlines the conventions of use and thinking about form that early nineteenth-century composers inherited from their predecessors. The latter half of the book then applies these concepts and analytic methods to works of Schubert (Chapters 5 and 6), Mendelssohn (Chapter 7), Chopin (Chapter 8) and Schumann (Chapter 9).

The key elements of this study (and their overlap) are Schmalfeldt's application of processual form and the idea of ‘becoming’ to early nineteenth-century music, along with the notion of using one's ability to listen to a work both forwards and backwards as an analytic tool. In the Introduction, ‘The Idea of Musical Form as Process’, Schmalfeldt traces the roots of thinking about form as a process, instead of a static feature, to Adorno writing on Beethoven. She quotes Adorno on Beethoven:

It is from this explanation of Beethoven that Schmalfeldt not only continues to explore Beethoven's use of form, first in his ‘Tempest’ piano sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, and later in what Schmalfeldt refers to as the ‘Bridgetower’ violin sonata, Op. 47, but uses this foundation as the platform upon which to create and elaborate upon her own theory of processual form in early nineteenth-century works.Footnote ⁵ Schmalfeldt then connects Dahlhaus to Adorno by illustrating Dahlhaus's description of form in the opening movement of Beethoven's ‘Tempest’ Sonata as a clear example of form as process. To Dahlhaus, ‘the form of the movement comes into being as a musically perceived transformational process’ (p. 10).Footnote ⁶ Schmalfeldt contributes her own analysis of the ‘Tempest’ Sonata in Chapter 2, ‘The Beethoven-Hegelian Tradition and the “Tempest” Sonata’.

Through Beethoven's often-analysed, yet still puzzling (to some) opening to the ‘Tempest’ sonata, Schmalfeldt illustrates the Hegelian idea of ‘becoming’ as an integral aspect to processual form.Footnote ⁷ In her own words, Schmalfeldt believes that one element becomes another in ‘the special case whereby the formalfunction initially suggested by a musical idea, phrase, or section invites retrospective reinterpretation within the larger formal context’ (Schmalfeldt's italics, p. 9). In this initial exploration of form as process, Schmalfeldt convincingly argues that the Introduction to this work becomes its Main Theme (Introduction => MT) (pp. 37–51). Upon first hearing, the opening 21 bars of the ‘Tempest’ are not immediately understood. They could feasibly be understood as a slow introduction, a ‘thematic presentation’ (taken from Caplin), or perhaps an atypical first main theme. All becomes clear in Schmalfeldt's perspective, though here clearly simplified, when the exposition is repeated, since what one presumably thought was the likely main theme of the exposition (bars 21–41) does not repeat as expected (p. 50). Thus one must revise one's impressions of the opening movement in time, retrospectively, and the Introduction clearly ‘becomes’ the MT.Footnote ⁸

With this foundation clearly set, Schmalfeldt is able to apply the idea of processual form and ‘becoming’ to other nineteenth-century works. The point of her collection of case studies is to illustrate the variety of ways in which early nineteenth-century composers were not only playing with formal conventions, but creating and transforming the idea of form within the work itself. Schmalfeldt argues in Chapter 6 (‘Music That Turns Inward – New Roles for Interior Movements and Secondary Themes’), for example, that the familiar Romantic tendency towards inwardness, towards exploring and explaining the philosophical ideas of morals or the nature within us, are reflected in formal processes of contemporary nineteenth-century music. The inwardness Schmalfeldt identifies in Schubert's Allegro in A Minor, D. 947, for piano four-hands, comes both from its tonal and harmonic progression; Schubert lingers on the leading-tone key, which Schmalfeldt describes as a ‘deeply private region within the home key's domain’ (p. 141), thus mapping personal feelings and experiences onto the form of a work.

Schmalfeldt continues her discussion of ‘inwardness’ and its effect on form in the last chapter of the book, ‘Coming Home’, with her reflections on the ideas of ‘home’ to the nineteenth-century listener and composer, a concept (home, leaving home) which pervades the poetry and music of the time. By reinterpreting the closing text ‘nach Haus’ of the often-analysed ‘Mondnacht’ from Robert Schumann's Liederkreis, Op. 39 and ‘Widmung’ from Myrthen, Op. 25, Schmalfeldt identifies Schumann's use of unexpected harmonic progressions and harmonies to illustrate the idea of ‘home’ in his vocal work, at times as a reflection on the past (‘Widmung’) (pp. 236–40), and at other times a hope for the future (‘Mondnacht’) (pp. 230–36). Though not overtly mentioned by the author, the presence of ‘inwardness’ and interiority in Schumann is perhaps even further amplified and evidenced by his well-known disturbed mental and emotional states, which not only often kept him physically at home, but mentally enclosed as well.

‘Structural listening’ as an analytic tool further represents Schmalfeldt's unique and specialized approach to music analysis as a performer. Schmalfeldt avers in the introductory chapter to this book that her reader need not necessarily be a musical expert or have a technical vocabulary to be able to identify or ‘sense’ the stray from formal conventions. Readers need only be active listeners and be open to listening to works, to cite Adorno, ‘both forward and backward’ (p. 9). The idea of being malleable in one's aural understanding of a work is a necessary element to identifying elements of form that have ‘become’ something new. Schmalfeldt does not demand that one be able to pinpoint the exact moment when formal expectations are defied, but that her reader/listener be able to approach a work with flexible expectations is necessary. Though Schmalfeldt's ‘structural listening’ (p. 9) does not require years of study, I believe that the ideal audience of this book would surely benefit from experience in reading Schenkerian graphs and understanding of Schoenberg's theoretical and analytical contributions, as well as an acquaintance with Hegel's ideas, among other philosophers and music theorists to understand her analyses and overall argument on the sophisticated and detailed level it demands.

Schmalfeldt applies this idea of ‘structural listening’ as the basis for her argument for the agency of the performer in her examination of the relationship between performance and analyses in Chapter 5 with Schubert's A Minor Piano Sonata, D. 845, as her case study. Here, she stresses the need for performers in particular to be ‘active listeners’ (p. 115). They must listen to a work both backwards and forwards in time. In addition, they must not only play the piece from memory, but also use their musical memory to further develop and interpret its form. Simply put, pianists have ability to enhance or delimit processual form through the choices they make during performance of this work (p. 120).

While Schmalfeldt's chapter on Schubert seems straightforward enough, she then takes an unexpected approach and applies the idea of listening both backwards and forwards to the analysis of an entire musical work, Mendelssohn's Octet, Op. 20 (Chapter 7). Schmalfeldt begins her analysis of this work with the Presto finale and moves backward towards its opening measures. She determines that the same harmonic progression, anchored by a stepwise descent in the bass, heard in the first movement's main theme, in fact figures prominently in the finale and coda of the work (p. 185). Through this unique approach Schmalfeldt clearly and convincingly argues for the overt formal cyclicism she sees as structuring this work.Footnote ⁹

Schmalfeldt portrays an alternate view of Beethoven other than the ‘hero’ of the earlier chapters in her analysis of the various ‘technical, motivic, and formal challenges’ (p. 92) that Beethoven composes into the first movement of his ‘Bridgetower’ Sonata (Violin Sonata No. 9, Op. 47, perhaps better known as the ‘Kreutzer’ Sonata).Footnote ¹⁰ Whereas composers often took an ‘equal opportunity’ (p. 96) approach to composing in this genre (both musicians are able to show their skill in turn), Schmalfeldt focuses on the exposition of this movement in which Beethoven strays from the compositional norms of this genre and has the two musicians both challenge and complement one another. Schmalfeldt believes that ‘the short-lived but deeply personal camaraderie between Beethoven the composer-pianist and George Bridgetower the virtuoso violinist results in what verges on a collaborate enterprise between performer and composer – Beethoven's op. 47’ (p. 21).Footnote ¹¹ Thus, in her analysis of this work, Schmalfeldt illustrates the great potential when the two core elements of this study, processual form and ‘structural listening’, overlap.

Where Schmalfeldt's otherwise convincing argument seems a bit forced is her discussion of Bridgetower's race (he was born to a West Indian father and Polish mother) and her brief comments about gender in other scholars’ analyses of the ‘Kreutzer’ sonata at this chapter's close. These forays into race and gender seem slightly out of place given the scant references to any composer's race, gender, sexual preferences or class in this entire monograph. It is understandable that Schmalfeldt introduced Bridgetower's race to expand upon his importance as a contemporary virtuoso and the challenges he might have faced from a predominantly white musical society, including his subsequent omission from music history. His racial connection to Beethoven, whom she cites as also being of Moorish in appearance, though, detracts a bit from the chapter as a whole (pp. 89–91, 110). Bridgetower and Beethoven can be on the same level as virtuoso performers, but to unite them also as Others is not as persuasive.

In earlier reviews of In the Process of Becoming, Su Yin Mak praised Schmalfeldt's new approach to music and personal subjectivity,Footnote ¹² and Seth Monahan lauded her ability to ‘demystify’ Dahlhaus's use of process, though he critiqued her method of combining Schenker's fixed formal analysis with Dahlhaus's more fluid approach.Footnote ¹³ Mak also noted Schmalfeldt's scant discussion about the philosophical implications of her analyses,Footnote ¹⁴ and both reviewers drew attention to what they consider the book's lack of cohesion after the third chapter.Footnote ¹⁵ While I certainly agree with many of the opinions and thoughts expressed by both reviewers, I do not to consider the variety of methodologies Schmalfeldt uses – analysing works from several perspectives on both the larger and smaller scales – in the latter half of her book as detrimental to the project as a whole.Footnote ¹⁶ It is true that Schmalfeldt's case studies do not entirely fulfil ‘the large-scale theoretical and philosophical claims made at the beginning [of the book]’,Footnote ¹⁷ yet each chapter contributes an integral element to the overall goals of the study. It is the narrative arc – the building of Schmalfeldt's argument with new evidence brought out in every chapter – that takes precedence here over the fulfilment of each analysis of Schmalfeldt's theoretical and philosophical explanations of ‘becoming’ as part of processual form in early nineteenth-century music. As such, I respectfully disagree with Mak's assertion that, ‘the book is not greater than the sum of its parts, and the analytical and philosophical perspectives promised in its secondary title remain incompletely aufgehoben’.Footnote ¹⁸ Furthermore, Schmalfeldt threads references to past chapters and analyses, the first movement of Beethoven's ‘Tempest’ Sonata for example, throughout the book, seamlessly joining chapters together into a cogent whole.

This study offers the foundation to a variety of other academic inquiries. I can clearly see an offshoot project that further probes the comparison and connection Schmalfeldt makes between composers’ use of formal processes in late eighteenth-century music with the core repertoire of this book, that of the early nineteenth century. Through analysis of works by Haydn, Mozart and Clementi in Chapter 3, ‘The Processual Legacy of the Late 18^th Century’, Schmalfeldt proves that the idea of playing with form and listener's expectations was prevalent in the eighteenth century, yet simultaneously, these modifications assume a clearly codified and understood structure of form as its unspoken partner.Footnote ¹⁹ She describes the transition between defying formal conventions in eighteenth- versus nineteenth-century music, stating that,

Schmalfeldt continues to address this point of comparison most clearly in her chapter ‘Mendelssohn the Mozartean’, where she not only likens the two biographically, but musically as well. Her exploration of the two composers’ use of form in thematic construction shows that Mendelssohn is not only indebted to Mozart, but is able to use form to individualize his own works and formal processes in his music in a way different to those found in Mozart's works. She compares the straightforwardness of form in the opening theme of Mozart's Concerto in D Minor, K. 466 with the ‘hybrid’ structure of its opening counterpart in Mendelssohn's Piano Trio, Op. 49 (p. 165–6). Since she was only able to focus on a limited range of composers and pieces from both the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Schmalfeldt sets the foundation for further academic investigation on this comparison in the future.

In the Process of Becoming is a meaningful addition to musical scholarship. Though detailed and analytically complex, Schmalfeldt also clearly and convincingly re-presents early nineteenth-century form in a way that gives her readers room to shape their own analyses with examples of other works in which processual form is at play. I can only eagerly look forward to the varied and creative ways in which scholars are able to use and apply Schmalfeldt's new approach in the coming years.