A CONDUCTOR AND SOME PIANISTS

Press, Volume CXI, Issue 32803, 31 December 1971, Page 8

A CONDUCTOR AND SOME PIANISTS

John Barbirolli, a biography by Charles Reid. Illustrated, with appendices and index. Hamish Hamilton. 446 pp.

Great Pianists of Our Time. By Joachim Kaiser. Illustrated, with discography and index. Allen and Unwin. 230 pp.

Known most widely for his revival of the Halle Orchestra and restoring it to fame, Sir John Barbirolli is described in this biography, by the author of biographies on Sir Thomas Beecham and Sir Malcolm Sargent, as one of the greatest musical figures of the twentieth century. Born over a baker’s shop in Southampton Row, he was ever regarded as one of the people, was always anti-highbrow, and is said to have celebrated his knighthood with a fish and chip supper with his family. All through his life, according to Mr Reid, he was liked by everybody he came in contact with, whether they knew him closely or had only admired him from a distance. Significantly, says Mr Reid, Sir John died when his life had gone the full circle—after he had achieved fame throughout the world and had toured extensively overseas and in Great Britain—at his home, only a stone’s throw from where he was born and had spent much of his early life, with his wife, the oboeist, Evelyn Rothwell.

Sir John Barbirolli began his career as a prodigy cellist at the age of 10, inheriting his musical ability from his father and grandfather, who were both immigrant Italian “professores” of music. He was an intense musical student, pale, prudent and withdrawn,

known for burying his head in scores whenever he had the chance, especially when travelling on buses, and developed a passion for Elgar, Mahler, Debussy and Mussorgsky, although never neglecting the great masters, Bach, Handel, Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven. For bread and butter he played in “legitimate” theatre pits, in the Surrey pantomime pit, in the Beecham opera pit in Drury Lane and in cafe bands, cinema bands and after he was 17, in the Queen’s Hall Orchestra. According to Mr Reid, Sir John’s career was marked with distinct fortunate opportunities, namely, the invitation to stand in for Sir Thomas Beecham at a concert of the London Symphony Orchestra with only four day’s notice; the invitation to conduct a concert of the Royal Philharmonic Society; his appointment as principal conductor and, later, permanent conductor and musical director of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra; and finally the offer of the position of permanent conductor to the Halle Orchestra in Manchester—a post he held until his death in 1970.

Mr Reid tells of many traits of Sir John which he himself observed during his long close association with him'—such as his love of talking long into the night, especially after concerts, and yet he never showed any effects the morning after. He was tremendously apprehensive before going on stage, but once he got there, he was perfectly calm, says Mr Reid, and he could also carry on a conversation while engrossed in studying a score. Sir John’s last years were troubled by illness which he refused to acknowledge. During this time, he spent four years and a half perfecting the bare score .of Bach’s St Matthew Passion which he conducted in 1961. He was made a first citizen of Manchester and was hailed as one in other cities he visited frequently. Sir John, among his many achievements. was instrumental in founding the Scottish National Orchestra, and visited almost every major country in the world, taking music wherever he went.

Mr Reid’s evaluation of this truly great man is affectionate, but never sentimental, adulatory, but not to excess. Mr Reid explains that it was necessary to do away with strict chronological order, because of Sir John’s crammed and unquenchable career. Much of the biography is told through the anecdotes of those who came into close contact with Sir John and of Mr Reid himself. As a result there is a lot of diversion, in the form of explanation and in accounts of those persons important to Sir John’s development. But this straying from the main issue is generally relevant, serving mainly to add to the intimacy and many-sidedness of the picture of Sir John, providing pertinent sideissues and giving passing glimpses at and insight into a great man.

Joachim Kaiser, a German music critic, presents a less biographical but a more vivid portrait of some leading pianists of our time. In an introductory chapter, he examines the effect of recordings on pianists and the concert. Whereas the advantage of a record is being able to listen at home without the irritation of other people making distracting noises, yet the record misses the all-important “concert impression,” as Mr Kaiser puts it. He compares them in a simile of a light bulb competing with the sun and the amount of difference one makes to the other. Much of the remainder of the book is taken up with assessments of various pianists, but as the book was first printed in 1965, and this is a translation of that printing, some of the pianists mentioned have since dropped into the background while others, not mentioned have taken their place.

In each case, Mr Kaiser gives details of the pianist’s career, describes his temperament and personality, his style and idiosyncrasies, and analyses his approach to the major works of the keyboard, with special attention to the “type” of piece the pianist is more apt to play—whether contemporary, in the classical tradition, or whether he is more sensitive or more of an exhibitionist. Throughout, Mr Kaiser would seem to be attempting to give the reader a better understanding of interpretation and virtuosity.

Artur Rubenstein, whom Mr Kaiser defines as “a first among pianists, if this were possible,” has “an inner freedom and is liberated from preconceived ideas,” with the gift of spontaneity. In comparison with Rubenstein, says Mr Kaiser, Wilhelm Backhaus seems almost easy going, almost insensitive. While he achieves technical perfection, he is probably the only pianist who has the gift of letting the whole of a work be understood in its entirety, claims Mr Kaiser. Vladimir Horowitz is defined as “hectically applauded, excessively brilliant, fashionably imitated and hysterically shy.” Mr Kaiser says he played, or rather thumped, his way to victory with Liszt and Rachmaninoff. On the other hand, Wilhelm Kempff is quite the opposite; under his hands the seemingly mysterious surface of the classically reserved Beethoven acquires magic, he says. Mr Kaiser finds Claudio Arrau a mystery, Clifford Curzon, a chamber musician elevated to the position of soloist; and Alfred Brendel a young representative of the great Viennese piano tradition.

Many other pianists are examined in a similar fashion, sometimes under their own chapter heading, and sometimes collectively under some quality, such as intellectuality or spontaneity.