THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 21284, 13 December 1932, Page 3

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

[By L.D.A.] ,

“ Music gives tone to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, a charm to sadness, gaiety and life to everything.”—Plato. Few things are more interesting to the thoughtful musician than the contrasted opinions of persons who have achieved eminence in music. If wo examine these opinions carefully we shall probably find the diagnoses of the experts as unreliable and as variable as those of the medical fraternity. I have in mind two recent interviews with the representatives of London journals given respectively by Moritz Rosenthal, the famous pianoforte virtuoso, and Miss Harriet Cohen, one of the leading lady pianists. Herr Rosenthal. who, despite his seventy years, has lately once again taken the British public by storm .with his wonderful art, declares that the era of great composers definitely ended when Brahms died, and that nothing of real and enduring musical worth lias been written since. Jn his opinion—which, it must he confessed, is snared by most of ns—the standard composers of the past have said all there is to say in music, and modern composition is merely a vague and vain groping for the unattainable.

On tile other hand. Miss Harriet Cohen, with the bland and naive insouciance of contemporary youth, presented quite an opposite view. When asked by the interviewer whether she though present-day music likely to have any permanence, she replied: ‘‘ Music has always been modern; there were always great composers, and always will be. 1 think the finest music is being created in England, and people all over the world are becoming interested in English composers, although they are still rather bored by our interpretative artists.”

It is, of course, incontestable that in every age the music, then being composed was modern. This aspect is rather prone to lie overlooked when what wo term “ modern " music is being discussed. Let us try to imagine, for instance, the sensation and excitement produced when Chopin's works first became known, particularly when —as frequently happened—the composer himself, one of the finest pianists ever known, was the initial interpreter. But can any sane person visualise, oven in his wildest dreams, the duplication of such an epochal occurrence? True, none of us can read the future, but it is a fairly safe prognostication that there will never be another Chopin; he was unique and unapproachable, and may be said to have exhausted the field of legitimate pianism.

Miss Cohen, however, was not content with one bold statement, and some of her other remarks were amusingly ambiguous. For ' example, she said: “Music really belongs to the person who writes it. Too much fuss is made of the individual interpreter as against the individual work. I think people are far too keen on the interpreter, and not nearly keen enough on the composer.” , This sounds very glib and smart at first hearing, but what does it really amount to? “ Music really belongs to the person'who writes it.” Quite so. a very excellent maxim ; but unfortunately it involves a principle which, even the most stringent application of the copyright laws is unable to enforce. As for people being “ too keen on the interpreter and not nearly keen enough on the composer,” it seems to be a case of necessity knowing no law. If the composer happened to bo Beethoven, for instance, I hardly know how an audience could impress its “ keenness ” upon him, seeing that he is no longer composing, lint decomposing. Probably the fair “ interviewee ” did not intend this literal deduction from her dictum; and it only goes to show how easy, and how dangerous, it is to dogmatise.

I am in perfect agreement, however, with Miss Cohen when she says; “ There ought to he much more music in the schools, not as a professional, but as an educational subject.

It is a pity that.- children are made to learn music. If only they could hear it oftener and be made to learn it less frequently it might do more to develop the good listener which wo need so much.” Even here Miss Cohen’s remarks are not free from ambiguity; in one breath she says “ There should be more music in the schools-” and “ it is a pity children are made to learn music.” If children are not compelled to learn it, how can there be more educational music in the schools? Of course, wo know what she is really driving at. In her opinion, far too many youngsters are forced into the drudgery of premature piano-playing, instead of first stimulating their latent sense of harmony through the ear': a plan that nowadays presents no difficulties whatever with the gramophone always at hand. But whether nr' not the" child ultimately plays an instrument, 1 maintain that the thorough 1 teaching of musical notation should form as essential a part of the school curriculum as that of the alphabet. Anyone can learn to read music; it is a purely mechanical acquirement, independent of musical talent, and is calculated to prove of immense practical utility in later years. Perhaps some dav New Zealand may have a Minister‘of Education with sufficient imagination to envisage the potentiality of such a scheme.

There was one observation of Miss Cohen’s which every serious musician will endorse. Speaking of the possibly pernicious effect upon children of dance music, she said: “I do wish that people would keep dance music for dances.” Hear, hear! That is the attitude, in a nutshell, of the reasonable musician towards what is. unfortunately. usually described as “ popular ” music. For those curiously constituted persons who really like indulging in the—literally—eccentric amusement ol turning, twisting', writhing, or merely walking, round and round a restricted space, usually densely overcrowded, and invariably overheated, to an accompaniment of weird, raucous, and unrhythmic noises from an odd and incompatible assortment of instruments —for such peculiar folk, I say, dance music may be quite in order, provided the assembly hall is sufficiently remote from contiguous dwellings to cause no nuisance. But 1 think dance music should be more generally regarded as ” sui generis ” ; let those who want it have- it by all means; but, in the interests of musical sanity, it should he isolated and segregated, placed, as it were, in strict quarantine, and never heard outside the haunts of the “ madding crowd.”

The obituary notices of the late Mr I’oicy Pitt were 100 brief to do him justice Mr Pitt, who died a few days ago in London, was born there in 1(S"0. After a thorough musical education. almost entirely in Germany and France, at the age of twenty-five lie returned to F.nglnnd, and soon obtained an appointment as chorus mas-

tor of tlic Felix Mottl concerts. Shortly after this lie became official organist at Queen’s Hall, London, and five years later he was elected musical adviser and deputy conductor at Covent Garden Theatre. This was followed by the musical directorship of the Grand Opera Syndicate in 1907, after which .Mr Pitt was appointed to control the Heecham Opera Company, and. in 1920, the British National Opera Company. But his most important post was as musical director of the British Broadcasting Company, where his artistic influence soon made itself felt, and it is to him. undoubtedly, that .the 8.8. C. is largely indebted for the' reputation acquired by it a.- a definitely educational and uplifting medium.' If the Now Zealand Broadcasting Board were to make an appointment of similar calibre we could look forward with confidence to a time whgn adverse criticism of our radio fare woulcl.be a thing of the past.