THE TRAGIC ART.

Dunstan Times, Issue 3360, 15 August 1927, Page 2

THE TRAGIC ART.

(.By Joseph Holbrooke.) I suppose it occurs to very few people how voi'y tragic the art of music is to the maker of it? The author’s book reaches the public as he wishes it; the painter is his own executant; but the composer must rely upon the interpretation of others. To a composer to have to face a man who cannot interpret, or a conductor who only smells “effect,” or a singer hunting for his note or notes, is in itself not overwhelming perhaps, but to hear a piece of music ruined, as I have often done, by tempo alone, is indeed tragic. 1 could give some specific instances, e but feel I cannot carry any more enemies at present. Some of these stories are in my *“Memoirs.” I suppose there is not one opera performed as the deluded composer wrote it. In extreme cases, there is the conductor who, not being able to get his effects soon enough, cut half the work out without consulting anyone at all. In some opera performances of modern work a well-known conductor one© rendered certain works absolutely unintelligible even to the players and ’ singers. This was only set right (after strong opposition) by the composer arriving to give his own rendering. It is always disconcerting to be asked by a friend after a performance of one’s own musical work, what the work was and to be in ignorance yourself on the question. But what would you? Do you suggest that a composer can interfere when he is “having his chance”? It is as much as his life is worth, and certainly more than his reputation would survive under the sinister influences abounding. At a rehearsal of a symphony of mine the orchestra and conductor had worked themselves into a holy state of enthusiastic and fiendish excitement. My friends present came up to tell me how splendid it all was—just as I had informed the conductor that for some time one half of the band had been 20 bars in front of the other half. The conductor said in reply; “It, doesn’t matter. It sounds just as fine. Let them rip and enjoy themselves.” When T did get it right according to the score, no one liked the music half so much; I often wonder if music conveys anything to many people except some chord appeal to au electric nerve or two; no emotional vein, 7 am sure. Another stirring experience I had once was to bear a set of variations, in tjicmselvcs difficult at a modern tempo, taken presto throughout. Needless to say. nobody liked the work after the performance, and a more bewildered set of players T never set eyes on. Very many performances we hear in this country of new music (and. no doubt, of old music) arc done in a very IHirfunctory manner owing to the lark of interest firstly, and the lack of funds above all, as nobody vet lias come forward to play a kindly hand for our music. The particular instances I have complained o( hav- been the result of energetic conductors trying to do the impossible—no doubt with a kindly intention, but lamentable results. If modern scores can be played correctly once, there is no earthly excuse for ignoring them afterwards, as they have been ignored. The worst part of the business is over when correct notes have been attained. How much more wonderful will it be when all the notes arc played as marked! Many fine players have come to me after one of my works and in sorrow said that they played very few of my notes! It was. they said, a physical impossibility to do so in one rehearsal. AVe are only in the Stone Age as regards our new music at present.