Aaron Copland (I)

We identify the iceberg with the tenth of its bulk that is visible above water, the composer with that fraction of his total output that we happen to know. For those of us who first made contact with Copland's music through the works of the thirties and forties (from, say, the Piano Variations to Appalachian Spring), the personality that emerged was strong and definite; nor was it too hard to describe a predominating tone of voice, characteristic procedures—the vigorous, self-contained themes (statements rather than unanswered questions) with their assertive thirds, fourths, and fifths; the athletic vitality of the rhythms, the combination of open-textured triadic harmony with sharply dissonant elements; over all, a plainness that avoided sumptuous sounds and rhapsodical outpourings, in favour of a rigorous sticking to the business in hand.