THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 25701, 26 January 1946, Page 11

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

(By L.D.A.)

Burin g a recent holiday in the wilds of Southland, my search one evening for a took to read unexpectedly brought to light the biography of George Bernard Shaw, written by Hesketh Pearson, and' published as lately as 1943. It is a work, entirely worthy of its subject, and an adequate review of it might easily rim to several columns of the ' Star.' My own Concern with it must refer', of course, solely to that portion of Shaw's life which was devoted to musical criticism—a topic I have broached previously, but by no means exhaustively. If I happen to repeat myself in the present article, perhaps I may be excused on the ground of the perennially absorbing interest of anything concerning "G. 8.5." * * * # When Shaw, in 1890, was offered the post of music critic on the ' World,' at a salary of £5 per week, we are told that " he jumped at it, and many other people soon jumped on account of it." Shaw's views of the requisite qualities in a music critic may be summed tip as follows: —The critic, lie says, " must. have, readability, irreverence, individuality, and courage. Never in my life have I written an impartial criticism, and I hope I never may. . Criticism cannot give an absolutely true and just account of any artist; it can at best explain its point of view and then describe the artist from that point of view. . . . People have pointed out evidence of personal feeling in my concert notices, evidently not knowing ,that a criticism' written without personal feeling is not worth reading. .' . . When artists do less than their best—and do • that less at once badly and self-cqmplacently—l hate them, detest them, long to tear them limb from limb. They are my personal enemies until I am appeased by: good performances." *. * * . * ,'.' I trust I shall not be deemed egotistical when I say that a close perusal of Shaw's musical opinions has shown me that they coincide very largely, with my own, and that in ■miny respects this column has followed the precepts laid down by him. For example, regular readers may recollect ,my dislike of all attempts to I analyse music—to. parse it, as itwere, after the manner of the pedantic grammarians. Great composers made their own rules—or, perhaps, it were truer to say, obeyed the dictates of '.the unwritten laws of harmony. At alj events, their music..was the result of.; spontaneous' inspiration . and not directed by slavish adherence to pattern, 1 as one might surmise from the •laborious > analytical dissection so by musical professors and pundits. Shaw redicules the pretentiousness,-, of these people by a subtly clevei" burlesque, taking for subject Hamlet's soliloquy; "To ', :ba, or not to be>" .-.; ' * * '•■"•.''#' * ;, M.Shakespeare, dispensing with the customary., exordium; announces his. "subject at once- in the';'infinitive, in which mood it is presently repeated after a short connecting passage in which, brief as it is, we- : recognise the alternative and negative, .forms on which so much of the significance of repetition depends. Here we reach a colon ; and a pointed pository phrase, in which the accent ■■ falls decisively on the relative pronoun, brings us to the first full stop." Shaw wants to know why writers on music,- so-called, can. get away with remarks analagous to the above, as shown in practioally all " programme notes," when they ought :to be certified medically and removed to Bedlam or Seacliff.

His opinion, and mine, is that good music is meant to be listened to, not torn to shreds and laid upon the professor's dissecting table as a sacrifice to musical pedantry.

Shaw's weekly column in the ' World' had a huge following because it was unique of its kind. From the outset he refused to be too serious. " Seriousness," he wrote, is only a small man's affectation of bigness." Not from him did readers obtain the technical jargon which then" passed—and still passes to-day—for musical criticism ; nor was there ever in his column to be found the crushing boredom with which the average person reads programme notes, books, and general articles on music. As he said, he wrote in order that he might be read by people who could not tell a crochet from a quaver; and thus, for the first time in the history of British journalism, the man in the street could enjoy a column of newspaper devoted mainly to music. Here agaiil I humbly claim kinship with Shaw, for a similar objective has always been aimed at in this column. .

Naturally, Shaw's novel style of writing did.not. appeal to the musical pedagogues. .In a country where'solemnity passes for profundity and irreverence for superficiality, " G. 8.5." was sneered at by them as being completely ignorant of- his subject. Actually, he knew just as much about it as any of the academic folk, who were shocked because his levity made the layman laugh; The musical bigwigs of that day were Sir Hubert Parry, Sir Charles Villiers Stanford, Sir Alexander Mackenzie, and Sir Frederic Cowen—all fine musicians, no doubt, but seemingly none of them had the slightest sense of humour. But it is interesting to note that while they professed horror at the musical blasphemy of Shaw, a certain young and struggling music teacher named Edward Elgar enjoyed Shaw's sallies so much that when the two met, years later, the great composer was able to quote passages which the critic had quite forgotten.

In this connection one of Shaw's aphorisms may be quoted: " Some day I must write a supplement to Schumann's ' Advice to Young .Musicians '. The title will be 'Advice to Old Musicians '; and the first precept will run: 'Don't be in a hurry to contradict G. 8.5., as he never commits himself on a musical subject until he knows at least six times as much about it as you do! " Two decades later he wrote: "It has' taken me abdut 20 years of studied self-restraint, aided by the natural decay ot my faculties, to make myself dull enough to be accepted as a serious person by the British public." The plain fact is that at heart Bernard Shaw has always been something of a clown. He has admitted this himself, yet the great reading and playgoing public persists in regarding him with respect, tinged with awe. For years past, every word he utters has been cabled across several continents, every joke he makes is gratefully accepted as the garnered wisdom of a profound thinker, Shaw does not encourage this absurd adulation. He once told an audience: 'I shall never lie a really great dramatic author because, just as I am about to achieve tragic heights, some ridiculous joke accurs to me and I can't resist the anti-climax. I am a mixture of the tragedian the clown, and the clown trips me up in the most dreadful way."

I have always been sorry that when he took to play-writing Shaw gave up music criticism, for, with all his raillery and humour, he has a deep love and knowledge of good music, and is intolerant of humbug and charlatanism. Unfortunately, his biography does not disclose his views on modern music, and. as he will reach ninety years of age on July 26 next, I presume he is now too old to be bothered by questions on the subject,, but I'may yet take a chance. Much more could be said about him if space permitted, but I must conclude with a little anecdote that reveals Bernard Shaw's humour perfectly. One day _ he listened 'to a street musician playing the cornet outside a " pub." Describing the incident to a friend, Shaw said: "The man played with taste and pathos; but, to my surprise, .he had no kriowledgq of musical etiquette, for when, on his holding out his hat to me for a donation , I explained that I was a member of the Press,'* he .still seemed to expect me to pay for my entertainment."