The problem of finding proper harmonic and contrapuntal setting for the essentially monodic line of folk music presents the greatest challenge for national composers of all lands. Traditional arrangements of European folksongs, in academic four-part harmony, are intrinsically incompatible with the modal nature of folk music. When pentatonic melodies of the Orient are harmonized in this conventional manner, the incompatibility between the melody and the harmonic setting is such that the very essence of oriental melos is destroyed. Even more difficult is the representation of microtonal intervals peculiar to some countries of the Orient.

Strangely enough, modern harmony, supposedly much more artificial than triadic tonality and farther removed from the spontaneous generation of folk tunes, lends itself more easily to the intervallic progressions of oriental songs. Modern counterpoint, tending towards economy and allowing free use of dissonance, corresponds more intimately to the nonharmonic essence of oriental melos.

The oriental ear is peculiarly sensitive to undifferentiated sounds without definite pitch, particularly sounds produced by metal. Such percussive bell-like effects are often perceived as frictional acoustical complexes, the minor second or the minor ninth.

Chou Wen-chung is possibly the first Chinese composer who has attempted to translate authentic oriental melorhythms into the terms of modern Western music. He describes his esthetic purpose as a recapture of the color, mood, and emotion of Chinese traditional music "by means of its own transmutation, without adding whatever is not already suggested in itself." He poses the problem of conciliation between melodic pentatonicism and dissonance in the following unambiguous statement: "The characteristic successions of transparent intervals used in Chinese music are freely embroidered with opulent dissonances serving as the palette from which the composer paints in orchestral sonority, timbre, texture and dynamics. The changing mood and the emotional content are thus projected by means of a tonal brushwork extending over the entire orchestral spectrum." And he asserts his national heritage by concluding: "In my works I am influenced by the philosophy that governs every Chinese artist, whether he is a poet or a painter, namely, affinity to nature in conception, allusiveness in expression, and terseness in realization."

Chou Wen-chung is fully endowed for the projection of his task, for he possesses an innate feeling for Chinese art and a thorough training in music, particularly modern music. And yet music was not his earliest vocation. He was born in Chefoo, on July 28, 1923. The Japanese invasion of China forced him to go to Shanghai. When the Japanese occupied that city, he fled to the mainland of China. He entered the Kwangsi University in Kweilin, where he studied civil engineering; as the Japanese advanced, he proceeded to Chungking where he received a Bachelor of Science degree in civil engineering.

After the war, Chou obtained a scholarship in architecture from Yale University, and in the fall of 1946 arrived in the United States. He decided, however, to abandon architectural studies for musical composition. His natural aptitude was sufficiently impressive to enable him to enter the New England Conservatory of Music on a Carr Scholarship. While pursuing regular academic studies, he also took a course with the writer of this article. It was immediately evident that the complexity of contemporary theories presented no difficulties to him. Perhaps his training in exact sciences helped him in this respect. But above all, he knew what he wanted to do in musical composition. I encouraged him to cultivate his knowledge of traditional Chinese music because I felt that he had the unique chance of creating an oriental style in a twentieth-century idiom. Chou reminded me of this in his letter of July 16, 1960, in response to my request for a self-analytical declaration. (He calls his analysis "a rationalization of the technical aspects of my works," and adds "I do hope you will not quote from it directly, as it is written only for your reference." But his analysis is so illuminating that I feel free not to comply with his disclaimer.)

Here are the most interesting paragraphs from Chou's letter: "Like Chinese calligraphers and painters, I have always regarded my technique as a spontaneous manifestation of my gradually crystallizing esthetic concepts. This is perhaps in agreement with the Confucian concept, 'Music is born of emotion; tones are the substance of music; melody and rhythm are the appearance of tones. The greatness of music lies not in perfection of artistry but in attainment of the spiritual power inherent in nature. I was mainly stimulated by your suggestions when I began in 1949 to make a serious study of classical Chinese music, and subsequently other Eastern music as well. In the meantime, I tried to integrate the result of these studies with the most advanced contemporary musical techniques. I believe the foundation of my musical thinking was formed beginning with Landscapes written in 1949, and culminating with the composition of And the Fallen Petals."

After a season or so in Boston, Chou went to New York where he had the good fortune of working with Edgar Varèse. He also continued his academic studies in music with Otto luening at Columbia University, receiving a Master's Degree in 1954.

Guided by instinct and technique, Chou Wen-chung composed a series of works, mostly for orchestra, which possesses a personal stamp and that most precious of all endowments, the power of communication to the listener. It is extraordinary that Chou had no period of groping in search of a style, no works discarded because of technical failures. And still more remarkably, he did not have to fight for recognition, which came to him, so to say, on a silver platter. Leopold Stokowski, with his discriminating taste for the unusual and the exotic, performed Chou's Landscapes in 1953. On a commission for the Louisville Orchestra, Chou wrote his "triolet for orchestra," And the Fallen Petals. Performances followed in the major music centers of America, Europe, and Asia. Chou received a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1957, and a second one in 1959. He also held a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation to conduct a research program on classical Chinese music and drama at Columbia University from 1955 to 1957. In 1958 Chou was appointed to the faculty of the University of Illinois. (Chou is now composing in New York City. Ed.)

Sophisticated music critics, not easily swayed by mere prettiness of tonal colors and the exotic nature of musical materials, began to use superlatives in reviewing Chou's works. A tangible sign of success was the acceptance of Chou's works for publication by the renowned Edition Peters and the issuance of recordings.

Chou's distinctive style is determined as much by his self-imposed limitations as by his sensitivity to the fine nuances of tone, color, and rhythm. He writes: "While it is obvious that I have evolved a very personal technique, I do not seem to be aware of its grammar. Instead of following the rules of any system or method--even if it happens to be of my own devising--I have always preferred to rely on my instincts as a composer and a sense of logic as conditioned by my aesthetic convictions."

The musical imagery in Chou's works is dominated by Chinese impressions and Chinese states of mind. His muse does not require large canvases. He writes for the standard classical-size orchestra, with an amplified percussion section, but without exotic oriental instruments. The duration of his orchestral pieces varies from four to eleven minutes each. Slow movements predominate. The opening phrases are invariably subdued and soft, and so are most ,of the endings. There is no formal development in Chou's music; variations are suggested by changes of instrumental color and of rhythmic patterns, rather than by cumulative elaborations. The themes themselves are eloquent in their brevity. The music appears to be in a state of constant motion; recurrent dashes of wavy scales and tremulous trills supply pleasing decorative touches.

If formal elements are not of the essence in Chou's music, the melorhythmic nuances are cultivated with fine precision. Pentatonic melodies constitute the main thematic source; vertical and horizontal minor seconds and minor ninths assume thematic importance in Chou's works; the consistency of these usages suggests a serial concept in composition.

The use of percussion is correspondingly subtle. Chou indicates in specific detail the manner of striking a drum; sometimes he instructs the player to lay a tambourine or a bass drum flat in order to disperse and dampen the sound. The deep Chinese gong is included in all of Chou's orchestral scores.

The visual aspect of Chou's scores (and one should not underestimate this element in modem composition) is interesting. The pages are spacious, and unencumbered with too many notes. With some imagination, one can conjure up on these pages a pattern of classical Chinese ideograms in black ink executed with calligraphic penmanship.

The titles of Chou's works relate to images of nature from old Chinese poetry. So reverently does Chou approach the intimate meaning of the poem that the music itself becomes a natural reflection of the words. The notes are spaced like syllables in flexible prosody; musical phrases suggest lines of verse; changes of mood are portrayed in changes of instrumental color. Sometimes there is a direct correspondence between the words in the title and the melorhythmic construction of the theme. Thus the meaning of the line "And the fallen petals" is conveyed by a series of falling fourths in the pentatonic melody.

Chou's own ideas on melody, tonality, harmony, rhythm, tempo, form and expression, are summarized in the following extracts: