Understanding the fugue's answer: when the subject repeats in another voice

Explore the fugue's answer—the subject's return in a new voice, typically a fourth or fifth apart. This counterpoint moment thickens texture, anchors the exposition, and seeds development, showing how voices weave one theme into a lively polyphonic conversation.

Outline / Skeleton

  • Opening idea: a fugue feels like a lively conversation among voices; the “answer” is the second voice chiming in with the theme.
  • Quick primer on fugue basics: the subject introduces the main idea; the exposition sets up the voices; counterpoint makes the texture feel braided.

  • Define the answer: what it is, where it comes from, and the two common flavors—real (exact transposition) and tonal (adjusted to fit the key).

  • Why the answer matters: it keeps the subject moving, creates tension and balance, and helps the piece develop beyond the first statement.

  • How to listen for the answer: practical tips to hear the answer as it appears in a different voice, with simple cues.

  • Related ideas that dress the topic: counter-subject, stretto, and the way these devices play with the answer to heighten drama.

  • Gentle wrap-up: the answer isn’t just a rule; it’s the music talking back and forth, shaping the whole composition.

What is an answer? A friendly guide to a fugue’s dialog

Fugue music feels like a bustling hallway where ideas keep meeting, responding, and muttering themes to one another. In that hallway, the “answer” is a crucial reply. It’s not the main theme itself, and it’s not the closing moment. It’s the moment when the subject—the piece’s primary melodic idea—reappears in a different voice, usually a few steps away in pitch. Think of the subject as a bold statement, and the answer as a measured reply that echoes the same idea from a fresh vantage point.

First, a tiny refresher on fugue anatomy helps. A fugue begins with the subject presented in one voice. Then other voices enter, each taking the subject forward in their own register. The texture gets busier, with counterpoint weaving through like threads in a tapestry. The goal isn’t simply to pile up melodies; it’s to create a coherent fabric where each line, including the answer, has its own contour and importance. The result is a conversation—sometimes cordial, sometimes cheeky—that adds depth to the music.

The answer in two flavors: real and tonal

There are two common ways an answer arrives, and understanding them makes listening much more satisfying.

  • Real answer: This is the straight-up, exact transposition of the subject. If the subject starts on a certain pitch, the answer appears higher or lower by a fixed interval, often a fourth or a fifth away. In a real answer, the melodic shape stays faithful to the original, but it travels to a new voice. It’s like hearing a chorus member sing the same line but from a different seat in the room.

  • Tonal answer: Here the composer tailors the subject to fit the key of the moment. The line still mirrors the subject’s core shape and rhythm, but some pitches bend to harmonize neatly with the ongoing harmony. You get the same sense of dialogue, just with a slight adjustment so the music stays snug within its current tonal center. Tonal answers are especially common in later baroque and classical-era fugues when composers are juggling more complex harmonic landscapes.

The why behind the “answer”: tension, coherence, development

So why go through the trouble of inserting an answer? The answer does a few essential jobs in a fugue:

  • It preserves the core idea while inviting a new perspective. By hearing the same material in another voice, listeners experience variation without losing thematic unity.

  • It reinforces contrapuntal dialogue. The moment the subject reappears in another voice, listeners sense a back-and-forth—an exchange that propels the music forward.

  • It helps establish and then modulate key relationships. The way the answer shifts (whether real or tonal) marks how the piece is moving through its tonal terrain, creating a map for subsequent episodes.

  • It primes the listener for development. A strong answer sets up subsequent entries, stretto moments, and more intricate interactions, giving the fugue its signature momentum.

Hearing the answer: practical listening cues

If you want to train your ear, here are friendly, low-pressure ways to spot the answer in a fugue:

  • Listen for repetition with a twist. The answer repeats the subject’s essential ideas, but in a different voice and sometimes at a different pitch. It’s like hearing a chorus answer a solo—same message, different voice.

  • Notice the intervallic relationship. In a real answer, the second entry sits a fixed distance away—often a fourth or fifth. If you scan the entrances and notice a clean, consistent shift in that interval, you’re probably hearing the answer.

  • Pay attention to harmonic alignment. If an entry comes in that seems to clash or redefine the key moment, but it still mirrors the subject’s contour, you might be listening to a tonal answer. It preserves the line while weaving more snugly with the surrounding chords.

  • Track the texture. The subject tends to sound more spotlighted in its initial entry; the answer often seems to join the texture a moment later, enriching the polyphonic lace rather than dominating it.

A few related terms that enrich the picture

  • Counter-subject: This is a contrasting melodic line that tends to accompany the subject and its answer. It’s almost like a supporting cast member who keeps the action lively without stealing the spotlight.

  • Stretto: A technique where entrances overlap more tightly, increasing density and tension. The idea is to stack voices in quick succession, and the answer plays a key part in how those overlaps feel.

  • Exposition and development: The exposition is the opening “introductions” where each voice enters with the subject (and often its answer). Development stretches those ideas, explores new keys, and widens the musical conversation.

A listening exercise you can enjoy

Choose a well-loved Bach fugue or something from a well-regarded edition, and listen with a simple plan in mind:

  • Identify the subject’s first appearance. Where does it come from, and what does it feel like in that voice?

  • Track the first answer that enters after the subject. Is it a real answer or a tonal one? How does the intervallic shift feel in your ear?

  • Note how the second voice joins in. Do you hear a balance between the subject’s energy and the answering line’s reply?

  • Listen for moments where the dialogue grows more compact (stretto) or where the subject returns after a brief detour—these are the moments that really show off the answer’s role in building tension.

A moment to reflect: why this matters beyond fancy terminology

You don’t need to memorize a bunch of rules to appreciate the answer. It’s really about listening for conversation and structure. The fugue’s beauty lies in how a single melodic idea can be shared, questioned, and reshaped across voices. The answer is the mechanism that keeps that sharing honest and alive. It’s the music’s way of saying, “I see you, you see me, and now we move together.”

If you’ve ever stood in a crowded room and heard two friends echo a joke in different corners, you know the effect. Each voice amplifies the idea in its own register, but the original spark remains the thread that ties everything together. That thread—the subject—gets reinforced every time the answer appears. The result is a fabric that can endure development, stretch to new keys, and still feel coherent.

A final thought to carry with you

People often think of counterpoint as a rigid puzzle. The reality is warmer and more human. The answer is a moment of acknowledgment—an almost conversational nod in a polyphonic language. It’s the music’s way of saying, with elegance, that ideas aren’t solitary; they’re drawn into a shared space where voices multiply, yet stay unmistakably connected.

If you’re curious to hear this principle in action, try listening to examples from the Renaissance through the Baroque period—and then broaden your scope to later composers who used fugal techniques to thread intricate ideas through larger textures. You’ll notice the same impulse at work: an idea introduced once, echoed in another voice, and gradually woven into a richer, more expressive whole.

And that, in a nutshell, is the answer in a fugue: the subject’s thoughtful replay in a new voice, adding depth, drama, and a touch of musical dialogue that makes the whole piece feel alive. It’s not just a technical term; it’s a doorway into how composers sculpt conversation out of sound, line by line, voice by voice.

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