Understanding Philip Glass in 5 Compositions

Philip Glass’s music is often labeled as minimalist. Minimalism is an art movement that erupted in New York during the 1960s. However, one could (and, perhaps, should), label him as an economical composer: “Every note, every movement, every gesture [is used] with purpose” as Bryce Dressner wrote in 2014 in Interview Magazine. Today, music professors and students still debate whether Glass’s music holds any merit. Yet, Glass forged an alternative path into classical music while “crafting an oeuvre electrified with newness” (Dressner, 2014).

Glass was not happy with the ideas surrounding musical time and how notes are divided into time signatures. However, he felt he could not break away from established conventions. His frustration was with the fact that Western music was divided like a sliced loaf of bread — everything fitted into a predetermined pattern.

The first metrical divisions of music date to the High Medieval Period (ca. 1150-1350) where the meter found in classical Greek and Latin poetry inspired dividing music into “units.” As the centuries progressed, this changed and developed into the way we write music today. But Glass was seeking something more radical.

He studied with the renowned music pedagogue, Nadia Boulanger, between the fall of 1964 and the spring of 1966. However, his studies were rooted in the Western tradition. The breakthrough to his disillusionment with Western rhythm came from an unexpected source, namely Ravi Shankar. While working on film music transcriptions for Shankar in Paris, Glass found that the music would not “fit” into conventional bars or predetermined rhythmic units.

Unlike Western music, Indian music builds rhythm(s) by adding smaller beats together. This “additive” process, combined with not dividing the music into a rigid time signature, was the epiphany Glass was seeking. He realized that the music should flow naturally instead of forcing it into a rigid framework. The opposite of the additive process is the “subtractive” process, where an established pattern of notes is shortened. These patterns are repeated and combined throughout the piece of music into a cohesive whole.

This was not the only breakthrough he experienced — he readily embraced the concept of polyrhythms, where multiple rhythmic patterns are combined into a single composition, e.g. placing three notes against two. The combination of these additive and subtractive processes, along with polyrhythms, creates a hypnotic feeling to Glass’s music with an ebb and flow likeness.

Trying to define Philip Glass or placing him in predefined categories is almost impossible. We can view his career as a series of stylistic shifts and developments in constant flux. Below is a quick breakdown of the type of projects he got involved in and how his compositional style developed.

Experimental and Minimalist Phase (ca. 1960-1975)

During this phase, Glass experimented with traditional forms, styles, and influences. Yet, he was not too intrigued by them as mentioned earlier. He even experimented with avant-garde techniques such as twelve-tone music but later abandoned it altogether.

His true “breakthrough” came during the late 1960s after meeting Ravi Shankar and traveling to the East. It is considered his most defining period. Works like Music in Similar Motion (1969), Music in Contrary Motion (1969), Music in Fifths (1969), and Music with Changing Parts (1970) are considered “theoretical” works where Glass worked on his compositional technique. Music in Twelve Parts (1971-75) is considered the culmination of all the techniques Glass mastered and defined during this phase.

Biographical Operas (1975-1980s)

Glass eventually moved beyond a pure, “academic” approach to minimalism with a trilogy of operas based on three historical figures: Albert Einstein, Egyptian pharaoh Akhenaten, and Mahatma Gandhi. Each opera focused on a historical figure who changed the world through their ideas.

Einstein on the Beach (1976) is an opera presented in a non-narrative form in a formalist format. It comprises four scenes connected by five “knee plays” or intermezzos in classical terms. Themes from Einstein’s life are used in each of the storyboards.

Satyagraha (1980) is a Sanskrit word meaning “truth force” and the subtext of the opera is politics, whereas Einstein on the Beach focussed on science. The opera is sung in Sanskrit with subtitles in the audience’s language. It deals with Gandhi’s time in South Africa where passive resistance developed into a political tool.

This opera is semi-narrative, and the synopsis is available here. Each act is dominated by a historical figure in a non-singing role. Act I features the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore and Act II Leo Tolstoy, a Russian author. Act III has Civil Rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr looking upon the action.

The final biographical opera, Akhnaten (1983), is concerned with religion and the effects thereof. It tells the story of revolutionary pharaoh Akhenaten’s rise, reign, and final fall (full synopsis can be found here). He is credited with instituting the first recorded case of monotheism in history in a series of tableaux. The opera is sung in Egyptian, Arcadian, Hebrew, and the language of the audience.

Glass ventured into the world of film music too and became highly sought after for film scores. Often his scores will retain their minimalist origins, but the music is shaped to adapt to the film’s emotional and narrative arcs. Films like Candyman (1992), Koyaaniqatsi (1982), The Hours (2002), and The Truman Show (2009) are prime examples from his oeuvre.

Understanding Philip Glass in 5 Compositions

1. 1 Plus 1 for Amplified Tabletop (1968)

The piece One Plus One (introduction at 00:00 and performance at 01:51) is considered a turning point in Glass’s career. It is a minimalist masterpiece for one player and an amplified tabletop. The entire composition revolves around just two rhythmic units, leaving the performer the freedom to combine them at will. This is as about as minimalist as you can get—the music is stripped to its bare essential component—the rhythm. It is considered the blueprint for Glass’s next compositions because it encapsulates his ideals of rhythmic freedom. The US Copyright Office initially refused to register the work because they considered it to be a “theoretical model.”

Following this newfound direction, Glass produced a series of works in 1969 like “Music in Fifths” and “Music in Eight Parts.” These compositions solidified his reputation as a minimalist pioneer, forever changing the landscape of classical music with his unique and captivating rhythmic explorations.

2. Mad Rush (1978/9)

Glass composed Mad Rush in 1978 for the organ in St. John the Divine Cathedral in New York for the occasion of the Dalai Lama’s first public address in the United States in 1979. Because nobody knew how timely His Holiness’s arrival would be, the piece was to carry on until he arrived.

The piece can be interpreted as a philosophical consideration of how our lives have become—peaceful and chaotic—yet intertwined. According to Glass, there are two contrasting themes present that are represented by “the play of the wrathful and peaceful deities in Tibetan Buddhism.” For an in-depth discussion and explanation of Mad Rush with Lego bricks, Brian Krock’s video is a must-watch.

CBS Studios commissioned Glassworks in 1981. This was Glass’s first commercial success and introduced his music to a wider audience. It is a chamber piece made up of six individual movements. This work displays Glass’s talent for lyricism in the fifth movement called Facades but it also bursts with kinetic energy in the second movement called Floe.

The opening piano solo, aptly called Opening, and the last movement, Closing feature his penchant for polyrhythmic 2-against-3 rhythms. Glassworks is one of the best introductions to the minimalist master’s compositions.

4. Mishima String Quartet (1985)

The Mishima String Quartet is derived from his score for Paul Schrader’s “biographical drama film” about the life of Yukio Mishima (Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters). Maki Namekawa’s interpretation of the Mishima Suite for Solo Piano is another “stripped down” interpretation that allows the music to shine through without the orchestra obscuring some of the finer details.

Mishima was a Japanese writer who attempted a coup and failed. He was a hardline nationalist who believed Japan had grown weak since the end of World War II. He forced his way into the Japanese Self-Defense Force and took his own life by committing seppuku (ritual suicide related to hara-kiri) on November 25, 1970.

When you listen to the quartet removed from the context of Schader’s film, it can be seen as an enjoyable piece of music. It serves as an example of Glass’s multifaceted career and compositional style. The Mishima String Quartet can also be interpreted as a bridge between his earlier minimalist style and his penchant for the theatrical distilled in a classical form.

The final movement, Closing (video), especially contains a lyricism (almost unheard of in Glass’s music) interspersed with moments of nostalgia. The shifting meters and arpeggios create a comforting machine-like ambiance. But suddenly, it all comes to a stop as if someone has unplugged the beautiful music-making machine.

Symphony No. 13, Truth in Our Time was commissioned by the National Arts Centre Orchestra of Canada as a tribute to the late Canadian-born American journalist Peter Jennings (1938-2005). Jennings was considered the last great news anchor in the USA and held the position of anchor on ABC’s World News Tonight from 1983 to 2005. He retired from the position four months before his death.

Although the title hints at seeking the truth, Glass shies away from assigning any specific ideas to the music. This ambiguity allows listeners to assign their meanings, or ideas of truth, to the music. Critics have praised the work for its complexity and lyricism but also observe that it is more fragmented than previous symphonies by the composer. Another feature of the symphony is its short duration of only 20 minutes when compared to his other symphonies.

Glass honors his classical studies while still composing in his signature style and perfectly balances them both in the symphony.

Can We Truly Understand Philip Glass as a Composer?

I admit this article is heavy with external videos and recordings. But it is a quick run-through of major works, apart from the five compositions that are highlighted, that have defined Philip Glass’s compositional career. You do not have to like everything you hear and that is fine. I hope that it gave you a better understanding of Philip Glass’s music and how he changed the musical landscape in the 20th century.

Rather than going around in circles, let us consider Philip Glass as one of the most unique composers alive today. As an academic, I would argue that he is neither a minimalist nor a postmodern composer. He is best described as a composer who writes works in the spirit of metamodernism.

During his experimental and minimalist phase, Glass followed a “theoretical” and “scholarly” approach to his compositions culminating in Music in Twelve Parts which is considered a compendium of his minimalist ideas. With Einstein on the Beach, he broke free from that mold and freed himself (and opera) “from the inertia resulting from a century of modernist ideological naivety and the cynical insincerity of its antonymous bastard child [postmodernism]” as Luke Turner (2011) points out in the Metamodernist Manifesto.

We could best describe Philip Glass’s music as a “structure of feeling” that oscillates among numerous points of music and contemporary history. When you take the time to actively listen to Glass’s music, you will notice ideas from the past popping up in unexpected places. Look for the moments where Glass breaks with conventions or uses unconventional harmonies — those are the moments that will help you to understand this metamodernist composer. In conclusion, Alex Ross sums it up perfectly:

“Glass’s trademark style sounded radically strange when it was first deployed. And what really matters is not the material you find in any given bar but the luminous structure that rises from those simple building blocks. […] Glass’s big forms don’t overpower you, in the Romantic manner; they envelop you, offer a space of habitation.”