Reflections

The subject of this moderately paced, elegant fugue is simple, noble, without accidental. It moves with poise at the pace of the quarter note. Its first four notes (its "head" motive) have a solidity and completeness giving the subject a strong, initial personality. The subject is graciously cradled by the eventual counterpoint of two very regular countersubjects.

During the exposition, a motive is introduced in the codetta (a little bit of episode) between the second and third subject entry. The motive stands out for its smooth step wise motion running twice as fast as the subject (8th notes). Most important: the motive is repeated twice, the second time a step higher, a basic construction in all kinds of music (including Jazz) known as a sequence. Play it twice, and it will seem like and intentional pattern. The motive and its consistent repetition in sequence generate this fugue just as much as the subject does. The subject and this sequence are equal and inextricable partners, together forming the essence of this fugue.

At first, it appears that the sequence is just a compelling contrast for the episodes. Many fugues are graced with non-subject matter which is just as musically rich as the subject and its counterpoint. But this sequence enjoys consistent exposure, dominating all the episodes. What's more, each episode makes a strong point of presenting this sequence in a new voice, spanning an unusually wide range on the piano as if to emphasize this sequence through dramatic pitch space isolation. Because every voice in the four-part texture enters with this sequence even at its extremes, one is tempted to regard the sequence of episodes as a sort of spaced out exposition. What an interesting idea for a double fugue. That's how important this sequence becomes over time. Indeed, one more detail about the sequence of episodes: they grow longer and longer until, near the end, we have nearly forgotten about the original subject.

It is worth pointing out that the sequence is not always the same: sometimes the second motive is shifted higher, sometimes lower, and not always by the same interval. As it is inconsistent and does not repeat in the form a series expected of subject and answer (answer moving to the 4th or 5th degree), the sequence is best regarded as motive rather than second subject.

After a particularly long episode, the sequence, or rather its motive and a number of easily recognizable variants continues and runs in parallel with the subject. Here, the curiously important motive becomes a direct kind of countersubject to the subject. It has survived the episode and continues with the new distinction of accompanying the subject. Whether in its literal form, or in a more abstracted generality whose chief identity is the swift step wise 8th notes, the motive appears to have fully invaded the fugue, merging with and transforming the original subject. Together, they create a marvelous climax.

On closer inspection, the motive and the subject seem curiously similar. It is hard to say just why. They both begin with a down up motion and they both end with a tail moving more swiftly and consistently downward. It almost feels like the motive is related to the subject speeded up: like the motive is a diminished subject.

The final four measures of this fugue perform a miracle (or at least very well prepared sleight of hand): they merge the subject and the motive into a single, fluid entity, a blend, a hybrid, a brilliant resolution of absolute unity. It is telltale that both subject and sequence (two motives) occupy four measures exactly in their original, individual forms. Their union makes the last four measures of the fugue. The first measure taken from the motive, but its quarter note is divided into eighth notes that transform the head into the first four notes of the subject, the "head motive" that speaks so strongly from the very beginning of the fugue. The second measure is from the motive, but once again, Shostakovich has tweaked a few notes so that the first four notes again mirror the subject, this time a perfect diminution of the subject's head motive. Finally, the penultimate measure stands to finish the motive, completing its last two beats. But, it does not finish exactly like the motive, only in spirit. The content is, indeed, once again transformed to match the head motive of the subject. This is echoed in imitation by the bass, the fugue ending in a tiny canonical statement of its first four notes. It ends where it began, and in the process, its two chief forces of contrast and opposition (subject, motive, thesis, antithesis) merge into unified entity.