Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 1, No. 10 (1927-07)

The Phonograph Monthly Review 433 that anyone selling music should be musical, that I ought to have a music professor in my place to talk to, experts like himself. Now I can’t see that. In the first place who would pay for the professor, even at the salaries they’re supposed to get? And what good would he really do, anyway, since he probably wouldn’t know any more than the experts and they’d be fighting or debating all the time. And after all, why keep calling it a music business—it’s a phonograph business first, and to me a record is a record whether it is a speech by Mussolini, a lesson on how to play the harmonica or all Beethoven’s symphonies. And as far as jazz is concerned, Mr. Fisher and his friends may have a few records (I’m glad to hear they’re that human, anway!) but they don’t really consider it music. I wish I could be let sell my records without so much fuss and let music stores carry symphonies and Stravinski and the rest of it. I thought before that if I had enough sale for that stuff I would be interested in it, but now I have a fair sale (and admit it’s my own fault I haven’t a better) but I see it’s not in my line at all. Please, Mr. Fisher and Mr. Colton, and all, don’t blame me and tell me I shouldn’t be in the business, I had this business long before Stravinski ever came along. Take Stravinski out where he belongs in the music stores or wherever you want, let me sell records and not blame me for not knowing a business that isn’t mine at all. New York City, N. Y. S. K. Editor, Phonograph Monthly Review : It is a pleasure to tell you how much I enjoyed reading Mr. George W. Oman’s “Historical Survey,” which appears in your excellent June issue. Mr. Oman has done a service to the phonograph movement and to readers of The Review in thus recalling fascinating and sometimes amusing incidents of the Earlier Phonographic Period (so to speak), and in tracing the development and progress of the art of recorded music. His easy style and attention to detail commend him as a contributor; le*t us hope more articles by him are on 1 the way. The evident 'care with which Mr. Oman prepared his survey encourages me to offer a correction of one slight error which crept in. In speaking of the adoption of electrical recording, Mr. Oman says that it was the Columbia Company which introduced electric recording to the American public, and that this occurred in the fall of 1925; he then goes on to add that “almost at once 1 Victor’ began releasing records made the new way,” etc. It is a matter of phonograph history that the Victor Com- pany began the issue of its electric recordings with the June 1st, 1925 supplement. Mr. Oman, I hope, has the excellent records of Dick Hovey’s “Winter Song” (by the Victor Male Chorus) and the not-to-be-despised “Rose-Marie” Gems (by the Victor Light Opera Company), both of which were among the Victor electric records issued June 1, 1925. Cambridge, Mass. Harold C. Brainerd. Editor, Phonograph Monthly Review: The not inconsiderable interest aroused by my letter which you so kindly printed in your May issue seems to indicate that elaboration of the topic it covered would not be un- welcome. It might be well to drop the none-too-concealing veil of generalities at the very beginning and to say that the composer I referred to was Frederick Delius, and the per- formance that of his “Song of the High Hills” by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. It will be remembered that in dealing with the subject of creative vs. interpretative artists, I cited this performance as an example of a sincere, well-meaning interpretation which due to lack of sympathetic understand- and insight on the part of the 'conductor gave a totally false impression of the work to anyone unfamiliar with its score. Mr. Koussevitzky failed here because he was lacking in that very element which makes his performances of certain works of Tchaikowsky, Scriabin, Beethoven. Brahms, etc., so over- whelmingly effective—the element of sensitive sympathy by which the conductor (perhaps almost super-consciously, if I may coin the term) divines the intentions of the composer and succeeds not only in realizing them, but in transfiguring oftentimes to a pitch that even the composer himself had never dreamed of. To reduce the whole creative-interpretative situation to its essence, there are four types of performances, roughly speak- ing: 1. The performance in the music itself (the actual notes, direction, etc., of the score) is incorrectly read and the spiritual life of the work entirely lost; 2. A performance reas- onably correct as far as the music goes, but lacking the emotional significance of the composition (or worse, sub- stituting a totally different emotional meaning); 3. The converse of 2, a faulty performance technically, yet by the sheer spirit of the reading capturing at least something of the life of the work; and finally, 4. A performance which fully realizes both elements—is correct and convincing, both a reading and an interpretation, both physically and spiritually complete. Class 1 is fortunately the exception (although the perform- ance of the Delius work in question fell in this category) ; Class 3 is not often met with except occasionally with a group of amateurs playing a work which carries them off their feet; it is Clasg 2 that arouses the most controversy, for while any musically intelligent person can say whether a performance of a certain score is reasonably correct or not, no two persons can conclusively agree as to whether an “interpretation” is correct—whether the emotional impression gained from the reading is one in harmony with the composer’s intentions, adequately reflecting the inner life or spiritual 'content of the composition. It remains a personal thing and the only way of making a decision is to ascertain—for yourself—whether or not the performance is emotionally satisfying to you. The value of your decision depends of course upon your own musical and emotional equipment: if you are well grounded in musicianship and if you are in sympathy with the com- poser’s other works and have gained a thorough knowledge and insight into his work through the study of his composi- tions and his life and ideals,—then your opinion regarding the classification of any given performance carries real weight and is entitled to careful consideration. When two such persons as described above differ, then there 'can be no decision made between the two, but such is seldom the case. Almost inevitably those who truly know, love, and understand a composer will be united in finding a perform- ance a “true” or “false” one. Those who will be fooled by an excellent “reading” into thinking it a sympathetic “inter- pretation” are those who do not really know the work—for if they knew it, their conception of it would be outraged by a performance differing not only in details (which is bound to happen), but in actual fundamentals! This explanation, faulty as it is, gives a clue to the mis- conception from which composers like Delius suffer. The same causes underlie performances of the Class 1 and 2 types and also the extraordinary antagonism which greets every new and daring musical (or any other) innovation: the lack of insight, the lack of knowledge, the lack of understanding’ If the conductor does not have these qualities, his interpre- tation will be false; if the individual does not have them, the music will seem inconsequential, meaningless, or actually re- pellent to him. And these qualities, these bonds between the interpreter (or listener) and creator must be acquired—if they are not instinctively innate—by study, not only of a particular composition in question, but the other works of the same composer. (Here, naturally, good recorded interpreta- tions are invaluable.) This letter is already a lengthy one, but perhaps I may be allowed a< few more remarks on the subject of Delius, who is undoubtedly the finest example of a major composer suffering from the lack of wide appreciation due to the absence of the necessary bonds between himself and his interpreters and audiences. (It should be emphasized that no matter how remarkable a “class 4” performance may be, its excellence is appreciated only by those members of the audience who share the conductor’s sympathetic insight to at least some extent— the conducting genius who carries everyone with him is the glorious exception.) A recent article on Delius in a foreign contemporary of this magazine is like many a concert per- formance of Delius’ works—well meant, but absolutely in- effectual either in giving Delius due justice (he is damned with fain^ praise) or in winning new friends; that is, giving an in- dication of how the necessary contacts with his work may be built up. The article in question gives a brief biographical review of the main incidents of Delius’ life and then goes on to a dis- cussion of the various Delius recordings. For the benefit of those who are unfamiliar with these works, I repeat the list here with a few notes of my own: Violoncello Sonata (Beatrice Harrison and Harold Craxton) H.M.V. D1103 and D1104. Electrically recorded and highly praised. The score is dedicated to Miss Harrison; presum- ably her interpretation is authorized to some extent by the composer.