Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 2, No. 11 (1928-08)

August, 1928 The Phonograph Monthly Review 395 nature. The tremendous admiration and respect of his orchestral men and his friends testifies conclusively to the fact that he is not lacking in personal democratic qualities.) Just as the most gifted European musician cannot play or compose authentic “jazz” or “blues”, conductors like Stokowski are incapable of catching what I might term national colloquial characteristics in their performances. But his culture, his high degree of civilization have not blinded him to the perception of elemental and universal qualities. Beside Moussorgsky and the Entr’acte from Khovantchina, Dvorak is merely provincial. And while Stokowski’s misses the provincialisms (and delightful ones they are) of the New World Sym- phony, he captures unspoiled the elementalism of Mussorgsky’s genius. In the Bach Toccata and Fugue, likewise, there is music which is not national, but universal, and in the re-creation of which he rises to heights that are truly sublime. There is brilliance here every imaginable kind of technical feat, virtuosity in the full sense of the word, but it is all devoted to a worthy work; all the great gifts of Stokowski and his men are submerged in the music. Is not this both true artistry and superb exemplification of genius? There is another aspect of Stokowski’s art which deserves comment, the oftentimes unmis- takable feminity. For all the knife-like attacks of the Philadelphia Orchestra, for all Stokow- ski’s musical muscle and strength, one never gains the impression of starkness, of purely masculine bare-knuckled power in his performances. Al- ways the bones of the music are warmly fleshed and smoothly contoured. Stokowski’s grace is that of the panther, perfectly poised, infinitely flexible, and capable of attaining enormous momentum with the expenditure of no apparent effort. Vio- lent as some of them may be, I think of absolutely no example of sheer brute force in his perfor- mances. Compare him with another recording virtuoso, Coates, and Stokowski’s tinge of feminity will become more apparent by contrast. Without this quality I think that he would lose much of his appeal; there would be something harsh, cold, and very inhuman about him. Sto- kowski possesses little sweetness and geniality in his musical makeup (again I should say that of course these statements do not apply to his per- sonal character), and it is this factor of feminine grace and roundness which enables him to do some of his greatest work. I refer especially to the Brahms First, the Beethoven Seventh, the Fire Bird, and Bach pieces, and the second move- ment of the Franck Symphony. Occasionally, but very seldom, it has handicapped him, as in the first movement of the Franck. And this com- parative failure is partly due to his falling prey to the delusion of “mysticism” in the work. There is mysticism and feminity enough in Franck’s music as it is; the attempt to emphasize and to add to them weakens its essential virility. If Stokowski had remained his proud, “ubermensch” self and stormed the gates of heaven like another Lucifer, the golden gates of this paradise would not have remained closed to him! Stokowski’s reading of Scheherazade is explic- able by consideration of his essential qualities. Where other conductors have emphasized the oriental barbarism of Rimsky’s musical scenes, Stokowski has stressed the oriental civilization— the opulence, the sophistication, above all the voluptuousness. He demonstrates also that there is no need for colors to be garish or flamboyantly applied to be truly colorful. Focussing his at- tention on the decorative values of the “program” and the sonority and sweep (rather than the dynamic intensities) of the music itself, his per- formance is so very unlike the average reading of Scheherazade that it has disappointed many who look only for an exploitation of the more dramatic possibilities of the work. But doesn’t his version give a new picture of the crafty and smooth-tongued Scheherazade herself, and also a new respect for Rimsky’s music, which is found to consist after all of something more than brass fanfares, suave string themes, wood wind cadenzas, and furious rattling and banging of the percussion? Stokowski gives a close-knit texture to the work. Without losing sight of its color or atmosphere, he makes it veritably a “Sym- phonic Suite.” But there is another Stokowski to be con- sidered: the conductor of the Second Hungarian Rhapsody, the Invitation to the Waltz, the Blue Danube Waltz (I refer always to the electrical versions), performances which are literally amazing technically, but which as musical read- ings have brought forth a flood of castigation as “sensational,” “eccentric,” “unauthentic,” “forc- ed,” etc., etc. They are gobbled up in toto and with avidity by the none-too-musical public, but a great many musicians gag at them, and hurl at their conductor the “fighting word”, “Show- man !” I take it that among the musical literate there can be no disputing the fact that these perfor- mances are sensational and eccentric, apparently virtuosic for the sheer sake of virtuosity, the in- terpretations perverted into near unrecogniza- bility. The common belief has been that these “stunt” works were designed to demonstrate the powers of the new recording and reproducing devices and to attract—by the ancient trick of the ballyhoo—new converts to orchestral music and records. Certainly these disks display the full powers of the superb orchestral machine Stokowski has built up, and unquestionably they do attract those who previously have been apathetic to orchestral works. But many music lovers have pointed out that Stokowski’s admit- tedly “artistic” works, like the Toccata and Fugue or the Brahms First, or even musical tid- bits like the Moment Musicale, are no less revela- tory of the powers of the orchestra or less effec- tive in winning musical converts. And they have rather despised Stokowski in their hearts for lowering the ideals of his art and prostituting his genius—even if for the very laudable purpose of encouraging orchestral musical appreciation. But is it not possible that there is another explanation which can better account for this apparent descent of a great artist to play a