Antal Dorati as a Renaissance Man

Press, 10 May 1980, Page 17

Antal Dorati as a Renaissance Man

Notes of Seven Decades by Antal Dorati. Hodder and Stoughton, 1979. 350 pp. $30.95. (Reviewed by John Ritchie) Long before, on the second last page, Antal Dorati admits to the desire to be known as a Renaissance Man, it will have occurred to the reader that such an aspiration is well-founded. He brings to bear upon his account of 70 years music-making a breadth of experience, humanity, humility and dedication as makes his autobiography ah inspiringly wide-ranging document, It should appeal to readers whose interests lie in orchestral life, in ballet and opera, and in the role of the conductor; it should also add to their knowledge of the internationalism appropriated by a generation much younger than his, the jet set, and to the picture of Western culture between and after the wars which make his lifetime somewhat sombre. Dorati at 70 is a raconteur with a lively memory for domestic detail. His vocabulary is equal to all shades of joy and calamity. He shares events and emotions in a text whose objectivity’ is characteristic of his rehearsals and musical judgments. Although he regrets his repute as a "orchestra builder” the evidence is undeniable that he was able to erect new and resurrect ailing orchestras. In. Monte Carlo, Melbourne, Dallas, Minneapolis, London (L. 5.0. Washington D.C. and other cities fine orchestras emerged from his vital and revitalising methods. Each produces its own story, a story, that

is charmingly told, spiced very often with managerial scandal and musical anecdote. Obviously Christchurch is not alone in its orchestral woes, merely behind the times. Dorati’s view of the conductor is especially interesting. Not for him the notion of a demi-god, tyrant or superman. Charisma cannot make up for knowing the music thoroughly, planning rehearsals carefully, and working hard. But there can be no doubt that reliance on his players and a capacity to handle administrators played an important, part in Dorati’s continuing run of successes with so many different orchestras from Hollywood to Tel Aviv. Remarkable among his achievements was the recording of all Haydn’s symphonies, 106 of them (plus some bits and pieces). The initiative did not come from a company. It was Dorati’s own idea deriving from a youthful love of the string quartets played at home with his parents. Helped by the issue of the complete Universal Edition prepared by Robbins Landon he set to planning how the job could be done. “I worked out a complete schedule, to the last detail, including the timings of all the symphonies, the timings of the proposed recording sessions, the orchestra with which I wanted to make the records — everything.” The subsequent story of the collaboration with Decca and a little-known orchestra of refugee Hungarians is fascinating. The exercise required three and . a half years’ virtual occupation of a church in Marl in Austria: 843 hours of recording time. By the time the set was finished half a million discs had already been sold. A man like Dorati is good for music. His patent honesty is such that he repeats the self-criticism that he would have done better in his 50 years had he not possessed so filthy a temper. And self-examination involves considering what it is to be a Hungarian — “a mule is a pushover compared to a Hungarian.” The book exudes the spirit of a battered nation and because its author knew and studied with Bartok, Weiner and Kodaly there is compelling detail too.

It appears to have been in his character to be able to get on well with the great: Beecham, Menuhin, Massine, Hindemith, Stravinsky, Hurok and numerous others slip in and out of the narrative like next-door neighbours, always to some stimulating prupose. Concert halls, music critics (Dorati found a constructive one in Dallas), Jewry, McCarthyism (his “brush” with the F. 8.1. is an anecdotal masterpiece), orchestral , self-government, Swedish democracy, electronic sound (“wasted on a human receiver”) — these and more reflect his interests and talent for thoughtful comment. He was a man hungry for things to do. What next? was his favourite question. Throughout a long professional life answering it posed few problems for this lively septuagenarian specialist in non-specialisation.