The Myth Of Complexity

As a companion thread to my other post, The Myth of Originality, I'd like to pose this thought as well:

Not only when I write, do I find myself working against this - probably self-imposed) wall of trying to be original, but I find a similar issue with "complexity".

Just for example, if you were to write something like say, a Sonata for Violin and Piano, it feels to me like you *have* to make it virtuosic.

IOW, the bar has been set so high by other composers that I feel like I'm "supposed to" write at that level, or not work in that genre at all.

If I did, I'd feel like, for instance, the Violin would have to  - have to - include double-stops (at the very least), harmonics, various bowings, at least some pizz, some vituosic runs, ornaments, or figuration, and maybe some 2-part contrapuntal stuff (even if just one string open with moving notes on the adjacent string).

Likewise, I'd feel like both instruments should participate in the dialog - not just have the piano soley be accompaniment. And the piano should also require some degree of "complexity".

When I was a composition student, I wrote a "suite" for piano which contained a couple of short pieces that were not unlike typical "dances". There was a canon, there was a waltz, there was a rag, and there was a "melody".

I can remember my composition professor saying "it's kind of 'one-fingery' isn't it?". By that he meant it was mostly just 2 parts one agains the other - a melody with either a countermelody in counterpoint, or a bass line that implied chords, or a simple accompaniment of either block chords, block chords with an "oom" for the later "pah pahs" or a simple arpeggiated pattern (usually 1 note at time in an even rhythmic value).

And it was.

But I look at things from Anna Magdelena, or many of hte piano pieces I had played (I'm not a real pianist or anything) and that's about the complexity those works are, and that's all I was going for.

In fact, I kind of loathe unnecessary (or what I might deem as unnecessary) complexity.

I guess he was thinking I should be writing something with a lot more textural, if not harmonic and rhythmic complexity, whereas I was content on writing a simple melody that sounded good to me, and trying my best to come up with an accompaniment that wasn't too sappy.

And I think the same goes for all kinds of stuff - we seem to be pushed into a mindset (especially those who study in a universiy) that you need to include serialism, or aeleatoric elements, or electronic stuff, or "extended techniques" or virtuosic demands on the player, and so on.

So again, if I sit down to write something, I feel there's this level of expectation out there that I need to meet - and that keeps me from trying it.

And I think many composers have opted for "the easy way out" and just decide either not to write those same pieces (like not writing something called a Sonata or Concerto for example) and come up with their own thing instead, lowering the bar a bit (a divertimento, or etude...)

And I think this wreaks havoc on young and beginning composers because they'll hear a "Symphony" and want to write a Symphony without the skill set or, really, any knowledge about how to do it.

How many "Symphony #1"s have I seen online. How many "Opus 1" have I seen online? All of them extremely poorly written - full of ill-informed cliches and overly simplistic and completely astylistic.

But I know they like it, and want to write it, and are somewhat naive, but I understand completely - because I think they too feel like there's some bar that needs to be aimed for.

Is it ok to write "easy" pieces. Simple pieces. Non-virtuosic pieces?

I know it is, but how do you get out of the trap of "I need to make this "more complex" so people will want to play it ot appreciate it"?

I know how Rothko figured that out in art, but honestly, I think that's a bit of a cop out too :-)

In both threads you seem to be in search of these two extreme binaries that don't exist in the real music world. Complexity isn't as simple as being virtuosic, nor is simple is just melody and chords. Complexity is a variety of things; it can be a richness in harmonies, rhythm, counterpoint, or even concept. Simple music can have these things within them as well. 

And whether or not you must write to some complex standard shouldn't be a goal. Complexity should arise from the desire to write it, not the internalized pressure to do so. It should be because you have something to say and more simple means isn't sufficient enough. Composers throughout history have written both complex music and simple music without compromising themselves. Most of the lieder from the 18th century and a lot of the piano music was simple and easy to play on purpose as they were intended for amateur players; yet some of them are held up with great esteem.

If you want to get a grasp on complexity and originality, listen to much more music. Listen to it and research the context in which is was made. Analyze it and understand its complexity, its simplicity, and its place in history. Approach the music with no assumptions. But most of all, don't use the music as a measuring stick for your own music. Instead, use it as a guide to grow as a composer in your own right and pace.