THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 22687, 29 June 1937, Page 14

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. Tho May issue of the ‘ Gramophone ’ contains some interesting things for musical folk. One little excerpt has a special appeal to myself and to other scribes who sit in judgment upon the artistic efforts of executants and singers. It is entitled ‘ A Critic’s Outlook,’ and runs thus: “If the professional music critic has specialised knowledge and experience, he has also extra responsibilities—not least, to the composer. It is obviously very desirable that he should know the music in print. If one does not know what notes the composer set down, it is difficult to criticise the account of it that anybody may give in sound. If a document is disputed, the court calls for it at the start. A critic has to spend much time and money in studying documents.”

» » * * These are golden words, which should be read, marked, and inwardly digested by all who essay to criticise the musical performances of others. Once upon a time I attended a •pianoforte recital and listened to renderings of works that I myself had studied for years and knew by heart. There were many wrong notes struck during this exposition of keyboard classicism, hut apparently I was the only critic present who realised this, for the errors passed unnoticed in every newspaper report of the concert. What is the inference to ho drawn from such an anomaly Simply that none of my brother scribes was sufficiently familiar with the printed notation of the music to be able to say whether or not it was correctly performed.

It has often been a reproach to critics that as a body they consist largely of those who have failed as artists. This is not less unkind or unfair because it contains a modicum of truth. Many a man and woman has studied long and conscientiously with the idea of becoming a concert performer, only to discover one or all of three things—■(!) They have overrated their own ability; (2) the field is already too crowded; (3) the possession of talent, or even of genius, unaccompanied by other essential qualities, is insufficient to command success.

The vast army of competent music teachers among ns provides a significant illustration of all these points. The majority of those who labour in musical instruction are themselves excellent performers, hut not brilliant enough, perhaps, to shine above the common level. Or they inky lack self-confidence, he deficient in will* power, or be subject to stage fright. Or they are possibly endowed with an unreliable memory. In other words, no matter how gifted musically all these estimable people may be, they are without the attributes that go to form the true virtuoso—a combination of executive facility*, dominating personality, self-command, and innate spirituality, the absence of which is fatal to everything save mediocrity.

But among this army of teachers many would surprise the casual listener if heard playing fortuitously. I, myself, am acquainted with quite a number who, given 1 more resolution and power of self-assertion, might, in a less crowded arena, have achieved at least some local renown. But to-day the musician has to compete against forces much more formidable than those which confronted earlier generations. The gramophone record, for instance, is a constant and insuperable rival, and one that is found in practically every home, either in itself or per medium of the wireless. The aspiring pianist, violinist, singer, or what not has thus always at hand concrete moiiels of musical perfection, and is liable to be intimidated by them—not to mention the invidious comparisons so easily invoked by candid friends, and members of the domestic circle.

Musicians are notoriously a sensitive body; even the hardiest of them is not proof against gibes of this nature: so the result often means a withdrawal into the shell of shyness and stultification. What many people overlook _is the fact that the mere effort to interpret peronally the works of the great masters signalises a spiritual gesture which carries its own reward and comfort, and/does not necessarily imply a desire to emulate the acknowledged giants among musical executants. It is precisely for an analogous reason that repertory theatre movements are becoming more and more numerous and vigorous. Amateur pianists—by which term I mean pianists who do not depend upon platform appearances for a living—should band together in similar fashion for mutual help and encouragement, not with the idea of challenging comparisons, but simply to foster communal love for a glorious art. Something on these lines is already being done, and very well done_, by the various branches of the British Music Society; but there still remains a wide field of endeavour in the direction indicated. Activity of this kind all helps in the warfare against jazz and its detestable by-products, which it is the hounden duty of every true musician to combat ruthlessly and without ceasing. * • * •

Reverting to the _ May ‘ Gramophone ’ ; 1 was delighted to _ read therein the most appreciative notice of Egon Petri I have yet seen, outside of my own references to this phenomenal artist. It may be recalled that when I was in London, during 1935, I wrote glowingly of Petri as the finest pianist I had heard, though strangely enough, he seemed then to rank below Horowitz and Barer as a gramophone artist. But in the last 12 months Petri has made recordings that leave no doubt in the listener’s mind of this great pianomaster’s pre-eminence among his contemporaries. A few months ago ho recorded Beethoven’s final ‘ Sonata ’ in a manner which caused all the leading critics to prick up their ears; and now. this is what the ‘ Gramophone ’ says of another well-known sonata, the socalled ‘ Moonlight,’ coupled with Liszt’s ‘ Concert Study in D Flat,’ which are Petri’s latest gramophone achievements. After brief mention of the opening movements, the report continues: “ The ‘ Presto ’ is taken at a speed most pianists w-ould find impossible if the notes are to be clearly articulated, as they are here. These are tempestuous and thrilling pages . . . the rendering of a man with a power that will brook no obstacle. If the sheer virtuosity of Petri’s playing in this ‘ Finale ’ has thrilled the listener, then the latter will discover something even more exciting in the Liszt ‘ Concert Study.’ Here are fistfuTls of notes, swirls of powerful and ruthless arpeggios . . . there are two cadenzas that are positively startling in their brilliance, flashing so unexpectedly out of the loud-speaker as to make one jump . . . this tremendous performance is a magnificent and oustanding achiovejnent,”

It would seem, from the above unusual tribute, that Egon Petri, whom I consider to bo the greatest pianist now living, is at last coming into his kngdom. „ , * , The same writer who was responsible for ‘ A Critic’s Outlook,’ gives vent, in the following lines, to the boredom with which all listeners must greet certain constantly reiterated music:— . . For my part, I’d skip ‘ None hut the Weary Heart,’ ■ And all the dreary summary Of ‘ Carmen ’ by the French Bizet. The ‘ Bell Song ’■ from Delibes’ ‘ Lakmo ’ I’d give tho bird: it palls on me. The waters of the ‘ Blue Danube ’ I’d like to pour into a tube. And if I ever go to bell, I’ll take the 4 1812 ’ as well!