L. Poundie Burstein's Journeys through Galant Expositions brings three musical layers into a fascinating dialogue: eighteenth-century views on form and phrase structure, the new Formenlehre and the Schenkerian understanding of tonal structure. Historical theory is by far the primary perspective, while modern ideas on form and tonal structure bring additional views to the discussion. The book is as rich in content as it is timely in topic. Since its publication in 2020, current interest in eighteenth-century views on musical form, and on historically informed analysis more generally, is evidenced by, for example, Danuta Mirka's Hypermetric Manipulations in Haydn and Mozart (New York: Oxford University Press, 2021) and Yoel Greenberg's How Sonata Forms (New York: Oxford University Press, 2022).

As the title indicates, Burstein's starting-point is the metaphor of a journey, an idea that emphasizes musical resting-points and the progress towards them. The book's first part discusses this idea in detail, addressing, for example, eighteenth-century terminology, resting-points, musical units at different levels (from local Einschnitte to large-scale Hauptperioden) and similarities and differences between eighteenth-century and modern formal ideas. The second part concentrates on expositions, elucidating several expositional strategies, again emphasizing historical approaches but constantly keeping modern ideas in view. The book's third, and final, part is its shortest, which offers a brief look at whole-movement form. Each part combines clear exposition of theory with illustrative analyses of well-chosen musical works and excerpts.

Throughout the book, Burstein shows an encyclopaedic grasp of eighteenth-century theorists’ views on form, as well as of galant musical repertory. Although primarily relying on writings by Heinrich Christoph Koch, arguably the most important late eighteenth-century theorist, he also refers to many other contemporaneous authors. Burstein's comparisons between the views of eighteenth-century theory and the new Formenlere show one aspect that I find particularly valuable: the lack of any need to prioritize the approaches in advance. Instead of having a ready opinion on how things might be, he looks freshly at the music, allowing it to indicate which approaches seem, in each individual instance, musically pertinent. His general claim is that eighteenth-century ideas on form provide an apt analytical foundation for all of the expositions he discusses, while modern Formenlehre can only do this for a portion of them. His readings are always clearly explained, and inventive formal charts make it easy to follow his arguments.

In order to elucidate Burstein's multilayered approach of bringing historical and modern views into dialogue, I will now discuss two details from Journeys through Galant Expositions, one mirroring historical views against those of the new Formenlehre, the other against those of Schenkerian analysis. The first issue concerns the question of whether the length of an exposition has significance for our analysis of its form. As noted, following Koch and other eighteenth-century theorists, Burstein's primary point of departure are the various caesuras, the resting-points that punctuate expositional journeys. As a metaphor, he refers to a flight from Detroit to Rome with ‘stopovers’ in Atlanta and Paris, the stopovers corresponding to the exposition's internal resting-points and Rome to the secondary-key perfect authentic cadence that completes the exposition's journey (27). As a counterpart to Burstein's trip, consider another journey, which might take place in any large city: on one's way from location X (say, home) to Y (say, one's office), one first takes a bus, then transfers to an underground and, at the end, once more takes a bus. Outwardly, the two trips are similar (several transfers within a journey), but their respective lengths also suggest differences. Should such differences in length affect our choice of methodology when analysing expositional journeys – or, at least, could they?

For eighteenth-century theorists, length was not a primary issue: in the third volume of his Versuch einer Anleitung zur Composition (Leipzig: Böhme, 1793) Koch, for example, applies similar principles of punctuation in describing the sixty-nine-bar exposition of the slow movement from Haydn's Symphony No. 42 and his own eight-bar example, which he subsequently expands into a thirty-two-bar unit. Burstein quotes the eight-bar example on page 73 and analyses it on page 76, applying modern sonata-form terminology alongside that used by Koch. In the reading that applies modern analytical methodology, the second part of Koch's eight-bar exposition – its secondary theme – lasts only two bars.

Especially with shorter expositions, punctuation does not always map comfortably onto the moulds that the new Formenlehre posits. As an example, consider Burstein's reading of a Quintabsatz (a phrase ending in a half cadence) in bars 6 to 10 of the twenty-two-bar exposition opening the first movement of Haydn's Baryton Trio hXI:27 (108–109). From the perspective of modern theories of form, this phrase is most naturally interpreted, Burstein argues, as a transition, yet he continues that it could also be taken to occur within the primary theme. Neither reading, Burstein concludes, seems completely satisfactory – he refers to rounded holes of modern theory into which one tries to fit the square pegs of galant music (109).

As a starting-point for analysing this Haydn exposition, one might ask if an exposition should have a minimum length to meet the functional specifications that the new Formenlehre posits for individual formal segments. To return to bars 6 to 10, we may ask whether interpreting this five-bar phrase as a functional transition is justified. Both William Caplin's form-functional theory and James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy's sonata theory – the two approaches on which the new Formenlehre is largely founded – suggest that the transition is partly defined by some kind of increase in the music's intensity. But is there enough room for this to happen in bars 6 to 10 of Haydn's trio? One might wonder whether it is appropriate for all galant expositions to be described within the terms of the new Formenlehre. At a minimum, length, proportions and dramatic arc might be factors to take into consideration. The question would not be whether to apply modern formal theories in describing galant music, but, rather, under what circumstances such application is musically justified. Between the lines, Burstein often addresses the issue of length but does not thoroughly elucidate it. Yet it might be an important element when tracing ways in which the historical and modern views on form interact.

The other issue I will raise concerns Schenkerian analysis. Burstein discusses the Schenkerian paradigm that reads a prolongation of the opening tonic chord – either through a voice exchange or a 5–6 progression – until the arrival of the V/V that concludes the transition (170–175). He finds this paradigm problematic in those instances in which there is an emphatic mid-transition V before the deep-middleground V/V. Instead of the extended prolongation of the tonic, he stresses this mid-transition V as the main element between the I and the V/V. This view is consistent with Burstein's emphasis on resting-points; indeed, he explicitly refers to ‘the V at the end of a mid-transition Quintabsatz’ (174) – that is, to an element that closes a phrase.

From this perspective, Burstein's Example 10.10 is illuminating. It shows two interpretations of the first-movement exposition of Mozart's ‘Prague’ Symphony (No. 38), one showing a ‘standard Schenkerian reading’, taken from a published analysis, the other Burstein's ‘alternate reading’ (174). The ‘standard’ reading interprets the mid-transition V as a passing chord within an extended chromaticized voice exchange prolonging the tonic, while the ‘alternate’ reading shows the V as the main mediating sonority within a I–V/V progression. Significantly, the ‘standard’ and ‘alternate’ readings locate the main mid-transition V differently. The standard reading emphasizes the tonicized V that begins a phrase in bar 71; moreover, this V is not structurally connected to the preceding half-cadential V (bar 69), which is shown as a back-relating dominant. Burstein's ‘alternate’ reading, on the other hand, stresses the half-cadential V in bar 69, structurally connecting it with a less emphatic, tonicized V in bar 71. This difference suggests that there are not only two deviating readings, but also two different sets of premises that underlie the readings.

I am here not concerned with which of the readings I find more plausible. Rather, the important thing is that there are different premises. As is the case with the length of the exposition discussed above, the juxtaposition of analytical approaches whose foundations differ from each other raises a general issue. Tonal structure and musical form are based on different musical language games, understanding this expression in a freely Wittgensteinian sense. They elucidate given musical elements from different perspectives, and these perspectives may have an effect on the role that these elements are seen to play in the musical organization. As a result, the founding ideas upon which the analysis of form is based may influence one's reading of the tonal structure. If this is the case, it might be good to state the premises explicitly – with regard to Example 10.10, Burstein does this implicitly on page 175.

There is, of course, no one correct way to interpret the role of size in an exposition or the mid-transition V. However, these examples testify to the multilayered quality of dialogues between eighteenth-century theory and modern views on musical organization, also indicating our need to continue addressing the foundations for such discourses. These dialogues should not be approached from a simplifying perspective that either seeks one-to-one correspondences among various approaches or denies the explanatory power of one approach because it does not map onto some others – faults that Burstein is never guilty of.

Journeys through Galant Expositions is indispensable reading for anyone interested in form in eighteenth-century music. It masterfully covers its topic and is engagingly written. Burstein's eclectic approach, combining various perspectives, leads the reader to rethink the elements on which form is built in music of the period, as well as to re-evaluate one's own views on this music. After reading Journeys through Galant Expositions, one hears late eighteenth-century music anew.