THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 21580, 28 November 1933, Page 11

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

[By L D.A.]

“ Mu*ic gives tone to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, a charm to sadness, gaiety and life to everything.”—Plato.

Dunedin concertgoers have been given a feast of pianoforte music of late by gifted exponents. Not having been present myself at these important functions, I am unable to determine whether they have gained or lost interest by the recitalists’ interpolated verbal comments. My personal viewreiterated frequently in this column—is that the public performance of music is better left to tell its ow r n tale. Musical lectures to bona fide students may be all very well for those who like them ; but few things are more annoying to the average intelligent listener than the pianists w'ho persist with their prefatory and allegedly explanatory remarks. This habit of unnecessary talking on the concert platform seems to be increasing, and it is time somebody uttered a protest. It is on a par with the equally exasperating programme annotator who of malice aforethought not only pulls the works to pieces, in the mistaken belief that concertgoers are interested in musical surgery, but takes fatuous delight in describing how composers sow their rolled oats.

Another point I noticed about these recent piano recitals w r as that the respective protagonists never wandered very far from the broad and easy path of conventionality in their choice of items. This w r as particularly evident in the programme devoted exclusively to Chopin’s creations. When may we hope to hear a progranime of the Polish master’s works, which includes the many beautiful numbers so long left undisturbed on the shelf?—l mean in regard to public performance, of course. Why do the pianists continue to ignore some of the finest ‘ Etudes,’ 1 Nocturnes,’ and ‘ Vaises,’ not to mention the ‘ Barcarolle,’ ‘ Polonaise Fantasie,’ 1 First Scherzo,’ and—above all—the magnificent ‘ Allegro de Concert,’ perhaps the best of Chopin’s works—certainly the healthiest. Admittedly the above are all immensely difficult technically, but in these days of snper-pianism the question of keyboard obstacles hardly arises. I will doff my hat in humble obeisance to the first artist who follows my suggestions.

Every student of musical biography knows the sinister significance of November, which, I fancy, contains more death anniversaries of famous musicians than any other month. Among those not generally well known is that of an Australian pianist and composer who. ha' 1 he been spared by the Moloch of w'ar, might have shed upon his native land a musical lustre locally unparalleled. I allude to Frederick Septimus Kelly, who was killed in France during November. 1916. Born at Sydney in 1881, Kelly revealed a decided bent for music early in life, but it wns not until he reached Ids seventeenth year that his exceptional talent was given full rein. He had been taken to England some time before this and sent to be educated at Eton. Here for a long while his musical inclinations competed with a strong leaning towards athletics particularly oarsmanship ; so much so. indeed, that ho was selected to form one of the Eton “eight” in 1.899. A year later he went to Oxfoi’d, where his boating prowess led to a place in the interuniversity race. After that he won the Diamond Sculls three times at Henley. < • • s The combination of athletic and musical genius is extremely rare: it is, in fact, directly opposed to all pedantic precept, which propounds the theoretical incompatibility, not only of temperament, but also of muscular activity as _ between musician and sportsman. In this respect Fred Kelly confounded the critics w’ho maintained the sheer impossibility of wielding an oar, or twm oars, on the river all day, and of then playing the piano with perfect case and brilliance at night. He scoffed at the text books, which tell us that in order to master any instrument w’e must shun delights and live laborious days: and that such manual exertions as are inseparable from cricket, tennis, or rowing—especially the latter—spell artistic ruin to one’s hands and fingers. Despite his sporting proclivities, Kelly was easily the finest undergraduate pianist of his generation, and it is gratifying to learn that he turned his .tremendous popularity to useful account by influencing his fellow-students in the direction of serious music study. And here it should lie said that in addition to his remarkable diversity of talent Kelly possessed a most charming personality, impeccable taste, and high ideals; he was in all respects a very exceptional man.

Such an Admirable Crichton could not fail to make his mark. Kelly was elected president of the Oxford Musical Club, and his continual efforts to uplift musical life in the University were eventually rewarded by the establishment of a permanent orchestra, also a chamber music society, and a choral union-—all of which used to combing to provide regular Sunday evening concerts. But Kelly soon found his career at Oxford was affording insufficient scope for the ever-growing musical urge within him : so throe years were then devoted to intensive study in Germany, whence from under the tutelage of Knorr, at Frankfort, he emerged a finer pianist than ever. Returning to F.ngland, Kelly settled in' London, and became secretary and organiser of the Classical Concert Society, a body which had been formed to carry ou the artistic tradition originated by Joseph Joachim. Kelly’s unremitting energy in this society’s interests resulted in the C.C.S. reaching a very important niche in London’s musical life, whilst his own achievements, both as pianist and composer, won for him ever-widening recognition. * ■» » * In 1911 the gifted Australian musician thought it was time he revisited his native land, and the series of concerts he gave in Sydney and elsewhere during that year will )ong be remembered by those fortunate enough to be present, for without the least exaggeration it may be said that his truly phenomenal talents provoked tumultous enthusiasm, and he was generally acclaimed as the finest pianist Australia had yet produced—a boast which still holds good. His compositions, too, made a deep and abiding impression upon all who then saw and heard him for the first and—alas!—last time. The next two or three years_ found Kelly again in London, delighting the musical public with a succession of chamber concerts and recitals. • • • ■ Then came 1914 and the Great War. With Frederick Kelly, as with innumerable others, patriotism proved paramount. Joining the Royal Naval Pi vi-

sion at the outbreak of hostilities, he sew service at Gallipoli, where his distinguished gallantry procured him rapid promotion, and eighteen months later lie attained the rank of lieutenantcommander. Subsequently he was engaged in most of the major operations until that fatal 13th of November, when lie was killed at Beaucourt-sur-Ancre. • « • • Of Frederick Kelly’s genius for musical composition the full extent was not revealed until some years after his death. A memorial concert was held at Wigmore Hall, London, on May 2, 1919, the programme consisting entirely of his own works, chief among which were the ‘ Serenade,’ for flute and orchestra ; ‘ Sonata in G,’ for violin and piano; an ‘ Allegro de Concert ’ and ‘ Monographs,’ both for piano; ‘ Theme, Variations, and Fugue,’ for two pianos, besides several fine songs and smaller items. Kelly’s untimely death was a sad loss to the world of music at largo, and by his passing Australia was bereft of a noble soul and very gallant gentleman. His monument is with us for ever in the shape of some beautiful music which, one hopes, will soon again be revived as a graceful tribute to him Who said to Death’s uplifted dart “Aim sure! Oh, why delay? Thou wilt not find a fearful heart— A weak, reluctant prey; For still my spirit, firm and free, Triumphant in the last dismay, Wrapt in its own eternity,

y, Shall smiling pass away.”