THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 20310, 19 October 1929, Page 26

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

; [Written by “ L.D.A.,” for the ‘ ‘Evening Star.’] Music gives tone to the universe, wings to the wind, flight to the imagination, _ a qhann to sadness, gaiety, and life to Everything.— r Plato. In the various forms of musical activity probably no gift is more striking than the ability to read at sight really well; it might be, said, _ indeed, that the truly accomplished sight-reader is extremely rare. There are, of course, any number of performers who can sit down and play the ordinary kind of stuff which is nowadays served up as music, for the,.-simple reason that a good ear naturally anticipates the obvious modulations characteristic of contemporary “ popular ” composition, more particularly ..of the dance type, which ring the inevitable changes on what are technically known ; as the. dominant, sub-doinihant, and mediant. My experience of the average fox-trot, for instance, is that the same bass accompaniment practically suffices for all music of this type—in fact, I will go further ancl assert that, given the first four bars of any new “ hit,” it is quite easy to _ improvise the remainder thereof without troubling to look at the score. . • * Another kind of .music . which presents no difficulty to a sight-reader of fair skill is that of tho early Sonata form as exploited by Mozart, Haydn, and similar composers. Hero, again, the good “guesser” finds his path made comparatively smooth by the strict adherence _ of these , masters to tho lawsof musical structure and development; which in' those days were as the decrees of the Medes and Persians, sacred and inviolable. You can always tell what is coming next in these evergreen-compositions. ■ This is often usefully exemplified: when two pages are inadvertently turned oyer instead of one, or. when, from long usage, the dog’s-eared leaves exhibit symptoms of moulting and are minus several bars—the rules of px-ogression guide the player, safely over the chasm. Sometimes, or:course, one discovers arr unexpected “snag,”' but usually this is met with in music of a later date. ,*; « « • There is a difference between sightreading and reading at first . sight. Some musicians, by nature or temperament, are excellent exponents of the latter proficiency; othei’s,, perhaps more gifted musically, require a preliminary “look-over” before _ venturing to essay an unfamiliar script. This practice-canter does not necessarily imply a try-out on the keyboard, for many professional musicians have acquired the art of mentally grasping the intricacies of a new composition by merely reading it silently, away from the instrument. It is all a case of natural, aptitude. / There aro those who, having the propensity for looking ahead and taking in essential de r tails, are good readers; whilst the not less musically endowed person, from one temperamental cause or another, cannot, and probably never will, read well at first sight; One thing is quite certain: advanced technique and the sight-reading faculty go almost invariably hand in hand—almost, but .there are exceptions. I once knew a husband and wife, years ago, in _ London, who had developed the first-eight performing power to an unusual degree; on one occasion I heard them give an astonishingly good rendering of Tschaikowski’s ‘ Symphony Rathetique,’ a four-handed pianoforte arrangement which presented innumerable technical pitfalls, as may ho imagined. Yet I can vouch for the fact that neither performer could ; play a note from memory, nor could they be depended upon even to finger a scale correctly. The performance was the result of sheer musical intuition.

There are instances extant of similar tours-de-forco on a much higher plane, some of Avhich have become historical. The genius of Liszt in this direction attained amazing heights. It is on record that Avhen Wagner, having just completed the full orchestral score of the ‘ Tannhauser ’ oA’orture, took it to slioav to Liszt, the great pianist—Avithout even a cursory “ once over” —placed it on tho music stand, and, to Wagner’s undying wonderment, immediately playbd that enormously , difficult pianoforte transcription whi.ch' the Avorld’s. foremost virtuosi are able to perform only after years of intense study. The immensity of this feat Avill be better appreciated by those who., are familiar with the appearance of a Wagnerian full score.

The" average orchestral’ printed score is formidable enough, with its array of vertical bars and bewildering variety of clefs and transposing instrumental ■ peculiarities; in clear, cold print even a quite simple melody, tuliy orchestrated, is far from easy to reproduce on the piano. Imagine, then, the ‘Tannhauser’ overture in manuscript, with numerous erasures, blots, and .alterations, . just as. it .was leHt.Jjy Wagner.’s not over-legible pen. IS'm a matter for surprise that the composer, after listening open-mouthed to the thundering climax, id stupefied amazement exclaimed: ‘ Franz, are you man or devil?” ■ * a • * The performance this week, by the Symons-Ellwood-Short. Trio, in Wellington, of Dvorak’s pianoforte quintet calls to mind another stupendous sight-reading achievement by a musician unknown in- tins part 01 tne globe, but whose reputation within ins own sphere was unique. I refer to the late Tsidor Cohn, of Manchester,, England, who died last year, aged eightyfive, A German by birth, he had becoihe naturalised and had resided in England for over fifty years. It was under him that I had the privilege - of studying for a considerable -period, during which it was my custom weekly to travel from London to Manchester, a distance of just on 200 miles, receive my piano lesson, and journey back again on the same day—a striking example of the Old Country’s railway facilities. , Cohn was a beaiitiful pianist and an extraordinary s.'Sh " reader, as the following, incident will show. Towards the end of IbJl, the first public performance of the new quintet by Dvorak was announc • as taking place at a Monday popu ai concert in St. James’s Hall, London, the executants being the Joachim Guff 1 tet, assisted by Leonard Berwick at the piano, whilst additional interest attached to the event by reason or the composer being present in person, it 1 remember rightly, Berwick was also making his initial how to the public, fresh from'his tutelage under Madame Clara Schumann. Taken altogether, it was the star event of the London season; therefore the dismay of the promoters may well be imagined when, at the eleventh hour—to be precise, on the morning of that day—it was learned that the young pianist had suddenly been seized with severe influenza and was unable to appear. Joachim almost tore his hair iu despair. What could be done? Tho eminent composer had made a special journey to London from the Continent in honour of the -occasion; all tho tickets were sold, and a full house assured when this holt from the blue spread confusion and consternation. It should be added that the quintet, which had been carefully rehearsed for some weeks previously, w T as still 'imprinted and only manuscript copies were available. « •» * • This was the state of affairs up till lunch time on that memorable day. Nobody knew what to do, and it seemed inevitable that some other work would have- to be substituted for Dvorak s brilliant composition. Then someone had an inspiration. _ “Send for Tsidor Cohn,” suggested this person. “ Who s he?” asked Joachim. “He’s the only man who can help you out of this difficulty,” was the reply. So a telegram was ■ despatched to Manchester , and a satisfactory reply received in due course, and within a couple of hours Cohn ivas on his way to London, Ayhero his train arrii'ed at 7.30, just giving him time to snatch a hasty meal, change into evening dress, and get to the concert hall by 8 o’clock. Punctual to tho minute, ho arrived in the artist’s room and was introduced to a palpably nervous and overwrought Joachim. The great violinist had been striding agitatedly about for an hour pre\ T ionsly, and, although partially relieved at seeing Cohn arrive in time, he still had grave inisgiA’ings as to the feasibility of introducing an important new Avork 1 with an untried pianist and without rehearsal. » • * » ' Cohn, on the contrary, Avas —as always—as cool as a cucumber. When Joachim grasped him effusively by the hand and said, “Ah, my dear fellow, I am delighted to see you—charming of you to come to our assistance. Let me shoAV you the piano score; here it is, still in” manuscript and full of difficulties,” etc., obviously Avorrying hiniself as-to Cohn’s capabilities and desirous of getting him to hai'e a preliminary glance at the music, Cohn merely smiled and said, “ That’s all right; Ave’ll get through it,” Avith a calmness almost exasperating. Consequently. it was with some trepidation that the string quartet proceeded to the platform, accompanied by the strange pianist, and after an enthusiastic greeting from the packed and expectant audience struck up tho opening strains of Dvorak’s exhilarating Avork. But the first few bars dispelled all qualms from the. minds of Joachim and his confreres; as experienced musicians they could immediately feel and react to the poAver and intellectual grasp of an uncommonly gifted pianoforte exponent, and tho excitement of the day lent an additional nervous force, to tho performance, which proceeded to a triumphal conclusion and tumultuous applause. So OA’ercome Avas Joachim at the end that he rushed over to tho still unperturbed Cohn, and in Continental fashion kissed him on both cheeks; then, seizing him by the arm, ran with him down to the artists’ room, where Dvorak, no less excited, was eagerly awaiting the advent of the successful executants. When apprised of the actual circumstances the composer’s admiration and delight knew no bounds, and a fervent scene of mutual congratulation and further osculation ensued, from which Tsidor Cohn, somewhat rumpled but still as unconcerned as eA r er, final]y tore himself aAvay and left to entrain for his long return all-night journey.

Witli not a few musicians the inability to sight-read is owing rather to nerves or lack of self-control than to any want of technical knowledge. Training can do a great_ deal, and the constant practice of playing accompaniments to either vocal or instrumental solos is the best possible spade work. To which should be added the habit of endeavouring to cultivate the mental ear by reading music away from any instrument. The power of hearing with the mind can be developed very highly; it is absolutely essential to composers. J, S. Bach is said to have ridiculed, as “ harpsichord knights,” those of his pupils who were unable to compose without their clavier, and the majority of teaching pedagogues agree with Bach. But there are instances of composers—notably Chopin—who received their finest inspirations from keyboard improvisation. One of England’s leading modern musicians, Dr Vaughan Williams, considers that, apart from the actual sound being heard, it is impossible accurately to gauge musical effects with the eyes only.

But here again it must rejnain a case for individual capacity. If real beauty and worth are obtained by a composer, it matters very little whether it is by mind or matter that such desirable results are reached. Each creative artist is himself the best judge of the means AA-hereby lie reveals his artis tic ego; but, undoubtedly, amongst performing, musicians the quick sightreader has a decided pull oyer his less gifted colleagues. . (To be continued.)