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- Music in time<\/a><\/li>\n
- The metronome<\/a><\/li>\n
- Stealing (and giving back) time: The Honorable Theft<\/a><\/li>\n
- Tempo Rubato<\/a><\/li>\n
- “Earlier” and “Later” rubato<\/a><\/li>\n
- “…for feeling also has its tempo”<\/a><\/li>\n
- The heroic self-expressive individual<\/a><\/li>\n
- The “abuse” of rubato<\/a><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/li>\n
- Rubato on the guitar<\/a>\n
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- “Earlier” rubato on the guitar<\/a><\/li>\n
- “Later” rubato on the guitar<\/a><\/li>\n
- How much is too much?<\/a><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/li>\n
- How to use Rubato in Classical Guitar Music<\/a>\n
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- Back to the metronome<\/a><\/li>\n
- Internalize the pulse<\/a><\/li>\n
- Phrasing<\/a><\/li>\n
- Agogic phrasing<\/a><\/li>\n
- All the things at once<\/a><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/li>\n
- A word of caution<\/a><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
<\/div>What is rubato?<\/h3>\n<\/div>Music in time<\/h4>\nAccording to a popular definition, music consists of two aspects: pitch and rhythm. Thus, music exists in time. A piece of music typically has a time signature (and meter), a specific tempo (or range of tempos), and a dialogue between rhythm and silence. So how do we measure musical time?<\/p>\n
Once we understand how many beats of what kind there are per bar (time signature \/ meter), and combine that with an understanding of tempo, we can count more or less “in time.” And while humans have a pretty good sense of time, we are not perfect. We may count a beat a little early, the next a little late, and so on. So the easiest way to measure time precisely<\/em> is the metronome.<\/p>\n
<\/div>The metronome<\/h4>\nThe metronome is a nineteenth-century invention that precisely divides time into a specific number of beats per minute. In that sense, it is a “true” representation of tempo. Modern metronomes usually have Italian tempo markings next to a range of tempos that supposedly fit each term. We can play “with” the metronome, essentially training our sense of time to be more in sync with the metronome’s (more precise) sense of time.<\/p>\n
But most agree that playing too much like a metronome sounds “wooden” or “robotic” (read: metronomic). Another way of putting that is: playing too much like a metronome lacks all human expression. In this view, we need to temper a need to correct our imprecise sense of time with our very human sense of an expression<\/em> of time. Here’s where rubato comes in.<\/p>\n
<\/div>Stealing (and giving back) time: The Honorable Theft<\/h4>\nRubato comes from a broader term, “tempo rubato,” which means stolen time<\/em> in Italian. Our modern idea of rubato is that we “steal” time by broadening tempo and any amount of time we steal must be given back by speeding back up (or vice versa). And according to a popular opinion, we get this form of expression from the Romantic period. In fact, according to some modern interpretations, rubato was foreign to baroque music, which should be played “strictly in time.” And it should be used only sparingly in Classical-period music.<\/p>\n
However, the term first comes into use in the 18th century. In 1723, Pier Francesco Tosi writes in his Opnioni de’ cantori antichi (Observations on the Florid Song):<\/em><\/p>\n
Chi non sa rubare il Tempo cantando, non sa comporre, n’e accompagnarsi, e resta privo del miglior gusto, e della maggiore intelligenza<\/em>.<\/p>\n
He who does not know how to steal Time by singing, does not know how to compose, nor how to accompany himself, and remains deprived of the best taste, and the greatest intelligence.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
According to Tosi, this\u00a0rubato<\/em> is an “honorable Theft” so long as the singer provides “Restitution with Ingenuity.” So this is actually where we first encounter the idea that tempo rubato is a stealing and giving back of time, in the Baroque period.<\/p>\n
<\/div>Tempo Rubato<\/h4>\nAnd the term tempo rubato is also one we find in all of the members of the Berlin School, transition figures between the Baroque and Classical periods: C.P.E. Bach, Leopold Mozart, and Johannes Quantz. Emmanuel Bach suggests that “Most keyboard pieces contain rubato passages.” In other words, it was not something used only sparingly in eighteenth-century music, but was happening all the time. His definition? The left hand was to keep strict time while the right hand allowed for expressive manipulations of time.<\/p>\n
You may have heard this definition applied to the music of Chopin (who discussed the principle frequently), but its provenance is much older. None other than W.A. Mozart, in a letter in 1777, mocked those musicians who allowed the left hand to “follow suit,” “giving in” to the changes of tempo in the right hand. In other words, the overall<\/em> tempo would fluctuate, instead of just the melody. People marveled at Mozart’s ability to keep the left hand steady while changing time at will in the right.<\/p>\n
<\/div>“Earlier” and “later” rubato<\/h4>\nRoger Hudson in his book Stolen Time<\/em> calls these two approaches to rubato: “earlier” and “later.” The “earlier” form asks for a steady maintenance of pulse in the accompaniment while the melody is free and “against the bar.” In contrast, “later” rubato is an overall expressive fluctuation of tempo (what Mozart lamented). Applied to the keyboard, this would mean both hands express the manipulation of time together<\/em>.<\/p>\n
Even in C.P.E. Bach’s account, however, Mozart’s, and later Chopin’s, ideal of hand independence is quite difficult for the keyboardist to perform. Thus, Bach suggests: “Other instrumentalists and singers, when they are accompanied, can introduce the tempo much more easily than the solo keyboardist.” Which is to say, being expressive with the tempo of the melody while keeping the accompaniment in strict time is much easier in an ensemble setting. Eventually this would also become the dominant approach of soloists as well. We’ll return to how difficult this is on guitar below.<\/p>\n
<\/div>“…for feeling also has its tempo.”<\/h4>\nThis is a quote from the inscription of Beethoven’s 1817 song, “Nord oder S\u00fcd” (WoO 148). By this time Beethoven was using metronome indications in his scores. This song does bear a metronome marking, but he notes that it only applies “to the first few measures, for feeling also has its tempo.” Another term for Beethoven’s tempo feeling or expression that would come to dominate the practice of the later nineteenth century was “agogic” rubato.<\/p>\n
Agogic phrasing allows for some notes to be longer or shorter than their written duration for expressive effect. In Beethoven’s time, notational conventions had not yet developed for agogic rubato. But that would change with Franz Liszt.<\/p>\n
<\/div>The heroic self-expressive individual<\/h4>\nLiszt was notorious for writing in many different expression markings for slowing and speeding up the tempo. But he also started to use new signs that indicated a flexibility of tempo’s feeling as well. Liszt’s approach to time as both a performer and composer changed the landscape for the “feeling” of tempo and still impacts our understanding of “rubato” to this day.<\/p>\n
![\"Wanderer](\"https:\/\/www.classicalguitarcorner.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/caspar_david_friedrich_-_wanderer_above_the_sea_of_fog-400x303.jpg\")
The basic idea of this Romantic approach to feeling is the self-expression of the composer and\/or performer. Music becomes a vehicle for the individual who stands out against nature. The classic example of this self-expression and reflection, of the subject against nature, is Friederich’s Wanderer above the Sea of Fog <\/em>(1818). The heroic individual stands atop a precipice overlooking a natural landscape below. The painting centers on the human subject and all lines point back toward this individual. In a musical setting, tempo (and all other musical elements) become subject to the individual composer or performer and their expression.<\/p>\n - Internalize the pulse<\/a><\/li>\n
- “Later” rubato on the guitar<\/a><\/li>\n
- The metronome<\/a><\/li>\n