Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 1, No. 5 (1927-02)

The Phonograph Monthly Review 197 know much of Bach, senior. Among the musical works listed in the inventory after Beethoven’s death the only work by Bach was “The Art of Fugue.” But the great son of Bach had composed some sonatas in the form which Beethoven was later to glorify and with these and sonatas of Haydn he early was initiated into the principles of son- ata form. He was a great extemporizer and while this habit no doubt reacted on his com- position it has been said that whereas he was audacious and impassioned in extemporizing, he was cautious and hesitating with the pen. He began the practice of writing down his musical thoughts in a sketch book as a boy and maintained it to the last. It was characteristic of him that he worked on several things at the same time and was always planning ahead. Even in his death bed he spoke of his tenth symphony This shows that to him at least there was nothing mystical in the number nine. It is true that Wagner thought the “Ninth” was only one in a sequence which was to be added to by Schubert, Schumann, Brahms and others. If Beethoven derives from C.P.E. Bach rather than J. S. Bach it is important to see just what C.P.E. Bach’s title to fame is. His father wrote in all forms of his time but the characteristic forms which he used, apart from the vocal and fugal or imitative styles, in which he excelled, were the two-part or binary forms. The chief characteristic of this form, which is used even today in many pieces is that there is one theme just as in the fugue, and that theme is announced in one key and returns home to the original key. Now this type was just as conventional for Bach, Corelli, Scarlatti, and Handel as the heroic coup- let was to Pope or Dryden. This is the first of a series of three or four ar- ticles on Beethoven and his works. Mr. Appel’s next article will appear in the March issue of this magazine. My Musical Life By NATHANIEL SHILKRET Manager and Musical Director, U.S.F. Department, Victor Talking Machine Co. Editor’s Note : Below Mr. Shilkret resumes his personal narrative with a third instalment. Although his phongraph, radio, and concert activities keep him busy practically con- tinuously, the consideration (for which he is famous) toward his many friends who are awaiting the continuation of his life story has led him to make unusual exertions in order not to disappoint his readers. We happen to know that this instalment was written between a Saturday night and Sunday morning, beginning at midnight after a radio concert at the end of one of his always strenuous weeks. To us this action is merely another in the long series of those in which Mr. Shilkret has utterly ignored his own welfare in order not to fail his friends. The readers of his articles and the admirers of his record- ings and concerts have sent so many letters to Mr. Shilkret, both through this publication and to the Victor Laboratories in New York, requesting him for his autographed photograph, that it has been utterly impossible for him to acknowledge these letters. In order to comply with the desire of his admirers, he has asked us to assist him in responding to these requests. As usual, he attempts nothing in half- hearted fashion, and for the convenience of his friends he is placing a number of autographed photographs at our dis- posal which will be mailed free of any charge to any one writing in to the Editorial Department, Phonograph Monthly Review, 64 Hyde Park Avenue, Boston, Mass., and requesting one. Mr. Shilkret has also asked us to convey his most apprecia- tive thanks to all who have written in commending his <( Musical Life” and his records and concerts. He only regrets that his many duties prevent him from answering ■ each letter and personally expressing his heartfelt appreciation. I MPRESSIONS do not always depend upon the important events in one’s life, it is the small incidents that stamp themselves forcibly on one’s brain and go a long way in shaping our ideas. Returning to the time when I first began the study of music with the early lessons my father gave me on the clarinet, I distinctly recall many impressions connected with the very beginning of my “musical life.” After school—or I should say kindergarten, since I was a little over five years old at the time—my father and I would sit side by side and practice for hours. My thoughts were preoccupied perhaps with the boisterous and joyful cries of my friends playing in the street; sometimes I fell asleep. But Father took care of my roving or dormant states of mind by an occasional not-too-gentle reminder. I got along pretty well and in fact even developed a liking for my work. Piano, however, was the instrument I liked most and I started to play by watching my older brother at his lessons. Teachers and musicians at that time were temperamental to the extent of a habit and one day when my brother displeased the teacher, he dismissed him, then turned to me and asked, “Do you play piano?” This led to my taking my brother’s place for a few weeks until Father found out—you may be sure that my brother, like all boys, was only too glad to play truant. Another impression that I have never forgot- ten was that of my first overture played with an orchestra. I have spoken of this I believe in one of my previous articles. I was about seven years old when I joined a boys’ symphony orchestra and played the “Raymond” Overture for the first time. No other number since then has ever taken such full possession of me as that first perform- ance. I put enough soul and enthusiasm into that work to make up for a whole symphony orchestra of mature musicians, playing Beethoven’s “Ninth.” As I look back I can see the seventy