THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 22895, 1 March 1938, Page 2

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

[By L.D.A.]

“ Musio gives tone' to the universe: wings to the mind: flight to the imagination: a charm to sadness: gaiety and liffc to everything.”—Plato.

Two outstanding musical events occurred recently in America. On November 28 was celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of- the first American apearance of Josef Hofmann, the famous pianist. A special interest attached to the occasion by reason of the facts that not only was Hofmann seen and heard on the same concert platform whereon his original debut took place, but he played the same programme of music with which he had delighted and astonished the audience of 50 years previously. The only difference, therefore, lay between the ten-year-old prodigy and the sixty-year-old virtuoso: and those who were present on both occasions—quite a numerous lot, from all accounts —assert that the difference was less marked than might have been imagined. Anyhow, it was a wonderful event, judged from any standpoint, and among tho audience were seen all the world’s leading musicians who happened to be in America at tho time. My own recollections of Hofmann date from 1894, when, as a boy of 17, he played at St. James Hall, London, in a series of marvellous tecitals after finishing his studies under Anton Rubinstein.

It must be a happy and gratifying sensation for any performing or creative artist to have his life’s work universally recognised and acclaimed as Hofmann’s has been. Also, such an event sets us wondering why one or two particular artists seem to have been singled out by Fate to enjoy lives of unclouded success and happiness, while others, equally gifted—sometimes even more highly endowed—are apparently doomed to a chequered existence, full of anxiety, upset and disappointment. Hofmann’s career of unbroken good fortune was crowned by his elevation to the post of Director of,the Curtis Institute in New York, at a salary of 100,000dol per annum. There are roughly, about sdol to the pound sterling, so you can work out the little sum for s’ourselves, and a very pretty salary it is, too. I am not insinuating for one m .nent that Hofmann is not worthy of such a princely income—quite the reverse, in fact. But what I do contend is that other great artists might be mentioned, equally deserving. However, this kind of speculation is futile; nobody can read the riddle of fate. It only remains to add that Hofmann’s Jubilee concert was an enormous success in every respect, and a fitting climax to a great and honourable life. • » # • The second big event may have seemed to some observers actually more significant, seeing that it heralded the first American performance of a violin concerto by Robert Schumann. In recent months we have read columns and columns in various musical journals_ regarding this long-lost concerto, which, .composed as far hack as 1853, has only just seen tho_ light—or, rather, has only lately received its public baptism. A. lot of awful “tosh ” has been written about it. For instance, one story, industriously circulated by sen-sation-mongering newspapers in England and America, was to the effect that the existence and whereabouts of this concerto had been “ revealed ” to the well-known d’Aranyi sisters through the agency of a spiritualist, or clairvoyant medium, hut for whom it would have continued to languish in obscurity. This allegation is, of course, pure bunkum. There was never any secret about the existence of the Schumann concerto. Grove’s ‘ Dictionary of Music and Musicians,’ in its extended reference to Schumann’s life and works, has the following comment: “ The composer’s other works in concerto form, written in the last years of his life, do not attain to the height of the piano concerto. Among them is an unpublished violin concerted which was formerly in the possession of Joseph Joachim.” • * * *

So tho fact of this concerto’s existence has been common _ knowledge among readers of the ‘ Dictionary ’ for at least half a century. What Grove refrains from telling ns, however, is that Joachim deliberately withheld the work from publication because the famous violinist considered it to be unworthy of Schumann’s genius. In tins respect Joachim seems to have had more discernment than Brahms. We gather this from a comparison of his verdict on the concerto with that ot Joachim. When the latter played, the work privately to a few intimate friends in 1896, Brahms, who was among them, said afterwards: “ The concerto is stimulating, with some _ beautiful, characteristic themes and interesting harmonies, though occasionally somewhat confused in development. 1 hke especially its rhapsodical character and freedom of .treatment. It is incredible that a composer who could write such a work as this could be on the border of insanity.” (Four months .after completing it Schumann was committed to a private asylum, where he died two years later.) _ . . Another incredible fact, not mentioned by Brahms, is that Schumann wrote this concerto in less than a tortnight—between September 21 and October 3., 1853—one of the most marvellous achievements m musical history. No indication of disordered brain here.

But, regarding the intrinsic artistic worth of this much-discussed work,, it seems that Joachim took, a lower view of it than Brahms. Writing to a friend named Moser, the once famous violin master said; “This concerto cannot be ranked with Schumann’s best work, ihe first movement shows, for him, a certain mental lassitude, a _ somewhat forced semblance of true intellectual energy; the effect is, on the whole, rather depressing, urging forward in some places and dragging back in others, with occasionally really bad spots of violin writing, and the supporting orchestral part decidedly inefficient The second movement begins well, but ideas soon drag and become morbidly brooding. The third movement has a spirited opening, but its development tends to monotony, with tiresome repetitions and ineffective \vntmg for the solo instrument.” . ~ Another indisputable fact, too, is tnat. Joachim played the work over to Schumann himself, soon after the completion, and that the composer expressed keen disappointment and dissatisfaction with it. All things considered, therefore, we are not surprised to learn that when this concerto received its first hearing in New York, even though played by Menuhin, who then made his .reappearance after two years’ retirement, the critics generally agreed with the verdict of Joachim. •* * * *

Regular concert-goers, _ particularly those with concert experience in the great European and American centres,

will read with amusement the following authentic records of conversational scraps heard in the artists’ room after some celebrity events, and taken down in shorthand: — “ I supply can’t tell you how wonderful it was.” “ You must be awfully tired.” “ How old were you when you began to study?” “ Don’t you remember me? I met you after your first appearance, 20 years ago.” “ I play that piece, too.” “ I sing that aria, too.” “ What was your first encore last season?” _ ~ To Moiseiwitsch: “I heard Backhaus play that sonata, but I like you better.” . , To Backhaus; “ I heard Moiseiwitsch play that sonata, but I like you better.’ “ You look much taller on the stage. “ How can you remember all that music?” , . ' , “ Where did you get that, lovely "■own? I was just saying to my daughter ” To daughter, on the way nut: “ Didn’t she look a fright in that frumpy gown?” “ You are far better looking than vonr pictures!” To escort, on the vay out- “ Isn’t he insignificant-looking? The Artist (leaving): “ Thank you so much, thank von. thank you!’ The Artist (outside): “Thank God, I mean!”-