Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 2, No. 1 (1927-10)

28 The Phonograph Monthly Review to interpret or emotionalize the music, but is content with merely playing it in workmanlike fashion as it is written. So much depends on the listeners’ desires and points of view, that it would be impossible to predict either that they will or they won’t like this set. Everyone should hear it and decide for himself; either he will find it a restful, cool- grey relaxation from excitements and alarms of records like those of Coates, or he will dub it “colorless and lacking the real fire and feeling” and betake himself elsewhere. Alas, the present writer—corrupted perhaps by the kaleidoscopic emo- tional life of another school of conducting than Sir Dan God- frey’s—must give up the recording splendors of this set for the (to him) interpretative splendors of his old acoustic com- posite version of Heidenreich’s first two movements and Coates’ Third and Finale. The many who will find the new version all that is satisfactory and enjoyable will pity him, but it is a matter of temperament—and everyone must choose for himself! Columbia 67335-6-D—Dukas: L’Apprenti sorcier (and Moz- art: Marriage of Figaro Overture) 2 Dl2s, $3.00 Played by the Orchestra of the Paris Conservatory, conducted by M. Phillipe Gaubert. On the very heels of our hope expressed in the review of the English Columbia pressing of this work (September issue, page 520) that it should have a speedy release here, come the American Columbia records themselves. Re-hear- ing convinces the listener even more strongly of the merits of this work; in both recording and orchestral performance, it is rightfully entitled to the place of honor among the many great works in the Columbia Masterworks Library. In the review last month sufficient justice was hardly done to the Figaro Overture, a splendid feat on the part of both conduc- tor and orchestra. M. Gaubert’s record debut (in this coun- try at least) convinces us that he is a man to be watched. If he can do as well with other works as he is doing with the Dukas’ scherzo and the Mozart overture, his records are going to be treasured by every music lover. As to L’Apprenti sorcier itself, it should be in every re- cord library. The climax on part three in this version is perhaps not quite as overwhelming as one is led to expect by the first two parts, but otherwise, there can be nothing but praise. We have been loudly bewailing the need of an electric L’Apprenti sorcier for over a year; now we have it, and in a version that will be outstanding for a long time to come! Victor Music Arts Library Set No. 17 (6669-74)—Bee- thoven: Symphony No. 7, in A (5 D12s, 1 S12, Alb., $11.00). Played by the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra conducted by Leopold Stokowski. On approaching another major work recorded by Stokow- ski and issued on the very heels of the Brahms First reviewed last month, one is tormented with a number of doubts: Can the new work maintain the standard set by the first? If it is of the same mechanical and artistic perfection will it not detract from the effect produced by the earlier one, perhaps proving that the first’s impressiveness was largely due to sheer novelty? So on hearing this new Seventh, the writer, besieged with those self-demanded questions, hesitated for a long time before coming to any decision—even mentally— concerning its final merits as they appeared to him. But now, after having carefully followed the work through with score in hand, and after making all due allowances for a congenial weakness to be carried away by the intensity of first impressions, I am of the deep-rooted and positive opinion that this new recording is not only of the same supreme stan- dard as that of the Brahms First, but that due to the nature of the composition and its orchestration, this set is even sup- erior in its exposition of the powers of the modern orchestra and recording raised to their highest degree. It is only fair to state that others hearing the work in the Studio have not arrived at the same conclusion, and—as all critical evaluation must necessarily be—this is only personal reaction, subjected to all the prejudices and emotional stresses of the individual. Yet I can hardly fear falling into serious error, for I am convinced that the careful hearing of this set, particularly with the score in hand, even by the most fanatical and fastidious admirers of this symphony, will con- vince anyone, willy-nilly, of the justness of its marked ex- cellence. October, 1927 - . i- I ISV? The actual recording itself is of the very same quality of that of the Brahms’ work, but the less thick orchestration of Beethoven and the dynamic character of the composition permit the splendors of the performance to shine even more brightly than they did in the earlier release. To follow the viola, ’cello, double-bass, and bassoon parts alone is to realize more strongly than ever before that—like an iceberg—there is far more beneath the surface than above it. These bass parts are a symphony in themselves! And such is the search- ing definition and clarity with which they are reproduced that even in the most sonorous tuttis or the most delicate pianissimos, they are invariably as pure in outline and as easily traceable. (And as for that, the wood wind parts— so often smothered up in concert, to say nothing of record- ings—are almost equally well defined.) The average listener who hears only the crashing tuttis, the full voiced song of the strings or a solo instrument is content with only the most obvious exterior of the work; it is from the bass and inner parts, equally melodic and even more ingenious and masterly in craftsmanship, that the greatest musical and intellectual, —yes, even emotional, in the finest sense—pleasure is to be derived. The purity of the parts, however, is most remarkable for the prominence if gives to their superb execution. Close observation reveals the perfection with which even the most subsidiary melodic voice is phrased: the work is truly a masterpiece of detail as well as of general effect. Even one thoroughly familiar with the score finds it hard to point out passages whose significance has been overlooked; it is possible to say that other readings of certain sections are equally logical as those of Stokowski, but it is impossible to say that he has not chosen a definite reading for even the most minute passage and has had expressed in per- formance exactly what he first envisioned in his mind. The reticence of the timpani parts in some of Stokowski’s recordings have been the subject of considerable comment; at times (as in the New World Symphony) they have been painfully conspicuous by their absence, at others (as in the Brahms Symphony) they have been kept very much in the background, so much so as to make one wonder whether they were “faked” or actually played, emerging only when absolutely necessary, as in the diminuendo roll preceeding the horn solo in the introduction to Brahms’ last movement. In the Seventh, Stokowski makes them more evident, especially in the last two movements, and while some to whom the thunders of a heavy hail-storm on a tin roof represent the height of climactic power will hardly be satisfied with the modest emphasis of the timpani here, others—including the writer—feel that great prominence of the drums would be ruinous to the purity of the bass voices, while adding only a spurious “effect” to the less grandilo- quent, but aesthetically loftier effect of the music itself. After all, the triumph of timpani is only the percussive triumph of big drums severely beaten, while the victory of pure and melodic rhythmic voices woven into a perfect musical web is a victory without corresponding loss which would make it fruitless. This is a virtuoso performance. And in making this state- ment, the reviewer must apologize for the ill-concealed sneers he has been prone to cast on the word “virtuoso” in the past. Then perhaps sneers were justified, when tonal and dynamic splendors were wasted upon musical mediocrity. It is an old saying that nothing is more disgusting to intel- ligent men than the sight of a fool in power, a court jester in the robes of an emperor. Musical insignificancies in the panoply of masterpieces are no less offensive; even now it is hard for one to forgive conductors like Stokowski for de- voting the richnesses of their own talents and those of their orchestra to the pitiful task of trying to conceal the artistic deficiencies of the faux bon in music. But here, in both the Brahms and Beethoven symphonies, and particularly in the latter, executive and interpretative magnificance is but the worthy dress for music which is of the purest regal blood and nobility. On hearing the orchestral performances such as these, in which the tiniest part is not neglected, yet never exalted above the whole—one is tempted to exclaim, “If this be Virtuosity, then Music makes the most of it!” The Seventh Symphony in recorded form has been the subject of many interesting discussions, some of them re- ported in the pages of this magazine. Reference should be made to page 126 of the December 1926 issue for Dr. Mead’s