Arnold Schoenberg, Alban Berg and Anton Webern are commonly grouped together as the ‘Second Viennese School’, with Berg and Webern – notwithstanding their own monumental contributions to twentieth-century music – frequently relegated to Schoenberg’s students, or even ‘disciples’. This chapter locates Berg and Webern in the huge shadow of their teacher and mentor, and considers the possibility that the Schoenberg–Webern–Berg trinity obscures a number of meaningful differences and antagonisms – musical and personal – between the three composers, and that Webern and Berg, as Schoenberg’s perpetual pupils, have become subordinate – ‘other’ – to the master in the discourses of musicology and music criticism. At the same time, it is clear that the members of the Second Viennese School – coming from a common cultural history and social and artistic milieu – understood themselves to have a unified vision for art and a shared sense of purpose.

This chapter begins by discussing the impulses that motivated Schoenberg to begin composing in the twelve-tone style: his desire to circulate through all twelve pitches of the chromatic scale, and his need to make the remainder of a piece develop from its initial material or Grundgestalt. It briefly traces his path toward twelve-tone music, as well as relating that journey to Josef Matthias Hauer’s work. The main part of the chapter defines the principal feature that set Schoenberg apart as a twelve-tone composer: the ‘musical idea’, and illustrates the musical idea as an overarching framework in an analysis of the Prelude from the Suite, op. 25. It then explains how Schoenberg’s followers and successors moved away from the notion of ‘idea’ as framework toward other modes of organization.

Although Boulez never met or corresponded with the Second Viennese composers (Schoenberg, Berg and Webern), their influence on him was palpable. He first encountered their music through René Leibowitz in 1945 and began writing about their compositions from 1948. This chapter examines Boulez’s extensive writings on the music of the Second Viennese composers as well as his programming and conducting of their works, demonstrating that he was a central figure in their post-war reception. He frequently criticises the Second Viennese composers for reliance on conventional formal structures and explains that he is most interested in compositions that display ‘ambiguities’. He extols Webern’s compositions for using ‘elements of classical language’, which through their distorted use become ‘the elements of a new language’. Treating the Second Viennese composers’ innovations as building blocks, Boulez’s compositions expand upon what he identifies as their most important attributes: serialism and the crafting of novel timbres and sonorities.

This chapter considers the reception of Mahler by Schoenberg, Berg, and Webern, with particular attention to parallel threads of interpretation. On one hand, the triumvirate championed their idol with determination and perseverance, to make a place for him in the centuries-long progression of Western compositional history and to establish as the culmination of this history (at least provisionally) their own works, with Schoenberg’s twelve-tone method as its most advanced expression. But another, backward-looking Second Viennese interpretation of Mahler’s music existed from the beginning: as the last manifestation of a musical paradise eternally closed to subsequent composers, who, unlike Mahler, rejected the commandment to leave tonality intact. As self-styled heirs, then, the Second Viennese School faced an irresolvable dilemma: their succession through an initially “atonal” and then dodecaphonic language required the destruction of this paradise, which existed on a tonal foundation.