During a recent captivating performance of Beethoven’s ‘Diabelli Variations’ at Carnegie Hall, pianist Igor Levit repeatedly performed a unique, non-musical gesture. After each variation, he’d swiftly sweep his hand horizontally above the keys, almost as if wiping away the previous musical idea from a mental whiteboard.
This movement appeared to be a form of mental reset, a way for Levit to return to the theme’s core, much like Beethoven himself. It was as if he was posing the fundamental question again: ‘What else can this music evolve into?’ This gesture highlights how musical variations aren’t just decorative; they represent a profound problem-solving process, constantly challenging composer, performer, and listener to re-engage with familiar material through fresh eyes and ears.
This very concept of variations is central to a compelling scientific article by Anthony Brandt, a composer and musicologist specializing in music cognition. In his research, Brandt posits that Beethoven’s ‘Diabelli Variations’ serve as an exceptionally rich example of creativity and divergent thinking in action.
Considering the recent release of Yunchan Lim’s ‘Goldberg Variations’ recording and the New York Philharmonic’s upcoming orchestrated version of Frederic Rzewski’s ‘The People United Will Never Be Defeated!’, I engaged Brandt in a discussion. We explored how this particular musical structure offers insights into the human mind’s approach to complex, open-ended problems.
Below are edited highlights from our conversation.
Most scientific studies on creativity take place in controlled lab environments. Why did you choose to analyze a 200-year-old musical score instead?
Diabelli, a composer and publisher, once challenged 51 artists to each compose a single variation on his waltz theme. The impressive roster included Schubert, the young Franz Liszt, and Mozart’s son – yet only Beethoven defied expectations. While everyone else submitted just one variation, Beethoven famously composed 33.
Imagine 51 brilliant minds tackling the same creative puzzle. Fifty adhere to a conventional approach, while one delivers 33 variations that are now celebrated as the paramount set of the 19th century. It’s essentially a fascinating natural experiment in human creativity.
You frequently mention ‘divergent thinking.’ How does this concept intertwine with creativity?
There’s a strong consensus that divergent thinking lies at the heart of creativity: it’s the ability to generate a multitude of diverse solutions for open-ended problems, rather than repeatedly settling for the obvious or familiar.
True creativity is almost unimaginable without divergent thinking. It’s about being exploratory, adventurous. The structure of theme and variations overtly showcases this process, as its fundamental purpose is to continually invent fresh interpretations from a single musical source.
Generally speaking, what key differences did you observe in Beethoven’s approach compared to the other composers?
During Beethoven’s era, the standard practice for variations was to closely mirror the theme’s harmonic progression. Roughly 80 percent of his contemporaries adhered strictly to this. Beethoven, however, consistently broke this rule, never replicating Diabelli’s original progression.
This led me to wonder: if he was constantly reinventing the harmony, did he ever repeat himself? The answer is a resounding no. Not a single pair of his variations share the same harmonic progression. In fact, Beethoven’s set alone contains more harmonic diversity than all the other composers’ combined works on the theme.
How does this bold approach contrast with Bach’s “Goldberg Variations,” which are known for less overt harmonic experimentation but feature an intricate, hidden architectural structure linking each variation?
The ‘Goldberg Variations’ are a compositional marvel, with every third variation meticulously constructed as a canon, exploring every conceivable interval. Bach’s genius here wasn’t about radically altering the harmony, but rather illuminating its inherent beauty and possibilities in countless extraordinary ways.
I often visualize it this way: Bach consistently travels the same route to work, but the journey itself is filled with astonishing discoveries. Beethoven, conversely, always finds a new path to the same destination, never retracing his steps.
Then, with Rzewski, it’s like embarking on a wild, cross-country adventure, sometimes by car, sometimes by scooter, airplane, or even hot air balloon! His theme and variations are a masterclass in poly-stylistic composition, seamlessly transitioning from sophisticated avant-garde to charming folk-like melodies, and even hints of pop or jazz.
As one listens to the ‘Diabelli’ variations, Beethoven’s music seems to evolve, growing stranger and eventually more mystical. What is the fundamental role of time in the creative process, and what might we sacrifice in an era of immediate AI-generated solutions?
Humans exhibit what’s known as the ‘serial-order effect’: the more time we dedicate to contemplating a subject, the more unconventional and inventive our ideas become.
Generative AI, while incredibly fast, is inherently limited to producing statistically probable solutions, operating within a narrow range of possibilities. Humans, however, push boundaries and explore ‘edge cases.’ Time allows us to cultivate a diverse array of ideas and rigorously test their resilience.
It’s often a point of frustration in creativity research that time is frequently omitted from the equation, primarily because most experiments are, by necessity, quite brief. I firmly believe that time is one of our most potent allies in nurturing true creative breakthroughs.
After experiencing all three sets, I am profoundly struck by the immense potential inherent in a single musical theme. It seems that, through variations, our understanding of what a theme truly signifies becomes wonderfully complex.
There’s music that asserts identity, like strophic songs, which declare: ‘This is who I am; you can rely on me to be consistent.’ This form is fantastic for engaging audiences and encouraging participation. Yet, a theme and variations offers a different message: ‘You haven’t fully grasped me yet. There’s so much more to discover. I embody a spectrum of emotions – sadness, joy, and the capacity for change.’
Perhaps viewing our personal relationships through the lens of theme and variations could offer the most beautiful and enduring way to nurture them.