I tried my hand at writing a fugue in my newest piece, Fugue and Bacchanale, written for flute, clarinet and bassoon.
At the most basic level, a fugue is built up from smaller pieces that fit together in novel ways, much like an ever-changing puzzle. Each line in a fugue has its own identity, and the fugue is complicated by the interactions between these lines. And in fact, very methodical rules govern the way these lines interact to form a pleasant-sounding whole.
I never really appreciated a fugue until I sat down at a piano and played through some of the parts, and I am certain that I still have a lot more to discover about them. A fugue takes a musical seed, called the “subject”, and transforms it in different ways—turning it upside down, backwards (or both), splitting it into chunks etc. In almost every fugue, the subject is stated rather plainly at the beginning by one voice or instrument. The next voice that enters is typically a restatement of the subject (in a different key) or the “countersubject”, a line written to complement the subject.
And those are the “rules”. From this point on, the composer uses these building blocks to create music, and very soon, you begin to see the remarkable complexity that’s brought about by only a few lines.
In between the fugue sections, I throw in a bacchanale (a wild dance that takes its name from the Roman god for wine), just to change things up.
Take a listen to “Fugue and Bacchanale”– and let me know what you think! Special thanks to Juan and Andrew for premiering the piece, and for dealing with the seven revisions I handed them every rehearsal.