How to Listen to Music, 7th ed. Hints and Suggestions to Untaught Lovers of the Art — Context and Discussion

The Listener's Task: Recognizing Musical Elements

Krehbiel insists that intelligent listening begins with sense-perception, fancy, and imagination applied to music's three fundamental elements: melody, harmony, and rhythm. He argues that comparison—essential in other arts—is not possible in music, so the listener must rely on memory and an intermediary: familiar music is best liked because it is recognized. Repetition, he writes, is the fundamental principle of form, demonstrated through motives, phrases, and periods. A Creole folk-tune serves as a concrete example, showing how repetition operates at the base of poetic forms like refrain and parallelism. Key-relationship becomes a bond of union, illustrated by Beethoven's C minor symphony and "Appassionata" sonata. Krehbiel does not assume prior knowledge; he builds from the ground up, warning against both pedants and rhapsodists.

Keyboard Revolution: From Clavichord to Modern Piano

In tracing the technique of clavier players, Krehbiel notes a vast change when music was transferred to the modern pianoforte. In the earlier period, emotionality—now considered the loftiest attribute—was lacking except in masters like Bach and his son Carl Philipp Emanuel. Tastefulness, distinctness, phrasing, nimbleness, and lightness summed up virtuosity; intellectuality and digital skill were essential. Beauty of tone was the product of the instrument maker, not the player, except on the clavichord. Krehbiel highlights Bach's revolutionary use of the thumb and bent fingers for unconstrained movement, and Handel's curved, compact hand that seemed to grow to the keys. Scarlatti extended technique with leaps, note repetitions, and broken chords, prefiguring modern pianoforte music. The sonata, Krehbiel explains, ends with Beethoven, who stands as a perfect exemplar of the second period.

Form and Content: The Sonata as Symphony for Solo Instrument

Krehbiel describes the sonata as a composition of four movements contrasted in mood, tempo, sentiment, and character, connected by a spiritual bond—the same bond he earlier discussed in the symphony. In short, a sonata is a symphony for a solo instrument. Haydn perfected its formal side, leaving it a convenient formula for musical beauty. Mozart poured the vessel full of beauty, but Beethoven breathed the breath of a new life. Krehbiel's historical scheme places Beethoven as the endpoint: many sonatas have been written since, but not a word has been added to his proclamation. This section underscores Krehbiel's method: he never loses sight of the listener's need to grasp form as a vehicle for expression, and he anchors abstract concepts in specific composers and works.

Warnings and Misconceptions

Krehbiel devotes space to common errors, including literary men's blunders—Tennyson, Lamb, Coleridge, Mrs. Stowe, and others—who misuse musical terms. He warns against pedants who overcomplicate and rhapsodists who offer empty praise. The goal is not to make the reader a musician but to cultivate a capacity to listen properly, which he calls a touchstone of musical talent rarely found in popular concert-rooms. He likens careless listeners to travellers who do not see. This critical stance gives the book an edge: it is not a passive appreciation guide but an active training manual for the ear and mind.

Krehbiel's guide rewards readers who work through its technical passages—the analysis of a Creole tune, the history of keyboard touch, the sonata's evolution—because each observation ties back to the central challenge: hearing music as an art of design and expression. The book is best read with scores or recordings at hand, testing Krehbiel's claims against actual sound. His insistence on memory, repetition, and key-relationship offers a practical toolkit for any listener willing to move beyond passive enjoyment.

Reading Krehbiel’s earnest prescriptions for attentive listening, I recalled sitting alone with Prokofiev’s orchestral scores, not understanding the harmony but feeling the brash honesty. Krehbiel wanted us to hear structure; that guide, though, made me realize structure can simply be a place to rest while the heart wanders. Serge Prokofieff and his orchestral music — A Reader’s Guide once held my hand through similar confusions. Both books felt less like teachers and more like patient friends.