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M U S IC AL COU RIE R
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I THE INSTRUMENT I I OF THE IMMORTALS \
. . There is something in the history of the Steinway family to bring joy to the heart of every one who is devoted to his profession. The Steinway piano is an unmistakable product of love of profession, and to it I pay my tribute of high esteem and admiration.”
From a letter to Steinway & Sons
by Ignace J. Paderewski
Paderewski’s tribute to the Steinway is echoed in the preference of every great musician. The Steinway is the piano of Hofmann and of Rachmaninoff. It is the companion of Fritz Kreisler and Mischa Elman; an inspiration to the songs of Schumann-Heink and Gad-ski. To Damrosch and Stokowski the Steinway “stands unequaled.”
Does not your every inclination tell you that you can find permanent musical happiness only in the Steinway? Need you delay this happiness when you know that the ;Steinway price is a reasonable one? And when the terms of payment are so generous that your purchase is relieved of any inconvenience?
Any new Steinway piano may be ptirchased with a cash deposit of 10%, with the balance extended over a period of tzvo years. Used pianos accepted in partial exchange.
PRICES: $875 AND UP.
Steinway & Sons
STEINWAY HALL
109 E. Fourteenth St., New York
for instance, and perhaps the one whose works will stand highest of all in the estimation of posterity. The one element that makes one doubt his greatness is his eclecticism, not in matter but in style. He partakes, oftener than one would like to see in a strongly creative mind of the idiom of Bruckner and Brahms, yet he is riot “romantic” in their sense and has his roots deep in the classicism and the austere thought-world of Bach.
His polyphony, remarkably satisfying to the modern ear, is, however, no slavish imitation of Bach, but original to a degree and absolutely fitted to the matter and to the demands of modern instrumentalism. His music is organic in thought and facture, and surprisingly varied in its manner of expression. An Aladdin Suite, for instance, paints the Orient in the vivid colors of a Chabrier .with the classic grace of a Saint-Saëns; a passacaglia for piano grows out of the polyphony of the classic masters of the keyboard, and some orchestral songs have the romantic fervor of Schumann and Brahms.
Three symphonies of Nielsen were heard here, two conducted by himself and one, The Inextinguishable (No. 4), by George Hoeberg, of the Copenhagen Opera. It is perhaps the most valuable work, and its four movements, played without interruption, proclaim an idealism and a truly beautiful optimism that is rare in the art of today. Most interesting to me, also, was the fifth symphony, in which a polyphony of truly noble themes reaches a climax of sound that bespeaks an orchestral technician of the very first rank. (When Nielsen writes a fugue it is evidently not for the sake of showing his skill, but because there exists an inner reason for a confusion of voices that must be resolved to a higher unity.) Nielsen’s violin concerto, already played here by Telmányi, was rendered on the first of these Nielsen evenings by Peder Moller, also a Dane, and proved to be more grateful than weighty as a composition. On the whole, however, Nielsen emerges from this difficult test (two and a half evenings of music by one composer!) as a figure of imposing proportions.
British Music in Berlin.
The British composers presented to Berlin by the International Society are hardly of such indisputable weight. Nevertheless the demonstration proved conclusively that there are at work in England creative forces that are fitted to play an essential part in the further development of music. Holst’s Planets, already heard in New York, on repeated auditions strikes one as a more pleasing than profound work. There is an insufficient balance between its deeper, inward qualities and its outward manifestations. The best of the movements seem to be Saturn, with its genial representation of old age, and Mars, with its incisive rhythms of war. Mercury has more charm than originality, and Jupiter, with all due allowance to characteristic English jollity, is too common in substance for a symphony. From Jupiter to Mr. Pickwick is a far cry.
Goossens’ Eternal Rhythm, aside from the best of the Planets movements, made the most favorable impression. It is Anglicised Scriabine, not without reflection of Debussy and Wagner, but perfectly balanced in form and substance, and executed with a superfine sense of sound. Against these two works neither Holbrooke with his Bronwen overture nor Lord Berners with his Spanish Fantasy could hold their own. Holbrooke is turgid Wagnerism and Berners standardized exoticism that proves nothing but a loose wrist. Berners’ three little pieces that should have been played, are witty, at least. Elgar’s Cockaigne recalled old times.
British Musicians Honored.
More remarkable than the English concerts, perhaps, was the reception accorded to the English musicians in Berlin. At both public rehearsal and concert there was a good and enthusiastic crowd of people, and the papers are full of serious and well-intentioned criticisms. There were receptions and social affairs of unusual brilliance, and the artistic bonds, at any rate, of England and Germany, have been cemented once more through the efforts of the musical (Continued on page 65)
speakable pain. She in turn wounds him ; forsaken by his men, she leaves him to starve in a cage. Like a cringing animal she returns, pities, opens his door, lets him overpower her and dies, as she sets fire to everything. He, killing everything about him, hastens away through the flames.
Make of it what you will. It is an epic in miniature. But the music falls short of the text. The brutality is expressed in a few discordant clashes, but the softer side is: too beautiful—almost wishy-washy. Hindemith can do better. He is groping, obviously, for a way out. And that is something. The performance under Busch, with baritone Burg and soprano Forti in the principal roles, was good. Kokoschka, who is in the Dresden Academy of Arts, designed his own scenery.
Petrouchka, at the end of the bill, was refreshingly idealistic and refreshingly rhythmic. How original and genuine in every measure this music is. Germany could never have produced it, and in Hindemith is Germany’s hope, then the Russia of Stravinsky will have easy sway—in our generation at least. Yet Petrouchka got the least applause (probably because of its soft and quasi-tragic close), despite an astonishingly good performance, with German dancers and a sprinkling of Russians. Prof. Dobroven, of Moscow, was largely responsible for the “pep.” Charming scenery and a beautiful orchestra combined to give the real flavor to the work.
Between these two pieces, strong in one way or another, Busoni’s Arlecchino seemed to fade away. Its melodies like its humor, have a mechanical, almost a chemical, quality. Harlequin is a mannikin, worked by strings. When he smiles, his jawbones crack. The machinery is too visible. Everything is properly prepared but it doesn’t “come off.” A Donizetti lives but once. Composers, like Lot’s wife, turn to salt when they look. back. In the “cross section of our time” this counts for naught.
Back to the Re^l Thing.
I came back to Berlin in time to get a delightful taste of the real thing, for the Volksoper has just added the Barber of Seville to its list. Remarkably well done ! Especially Wilhelm Guttmann, who was a mere concert singer six months ago, and now makes a rare, an astonishing Figaro. Watch out for this fellow; he will go far. A sweet and cuddlesome Rosina is Bertha Malkin, too, who blew in from the provinces some weeks ago, though the coloratura had to be strongly revised for her beautiful lyric voice. The ensembles went like lightning. A delightful antidote to the artificial article.
At the Staatsoper, aside from the unfortunate première, they have recently revived Delibes’ ballet, Sylvia, with success. Star performances of Salome, RosenKavalier and Walkiire have given Barbara Kemp her last opportunities to shine (a captivating Sieglinde), and Helene Wildrumm, soprano, to give rare pleasure with her Brünnhilde and Isolde. A magnificent artist, Carl Braun (Wotan) and Margaret Ober (Fricka, Rosenkavalier) also gave excellent account of themselves.
Concerts Ebb Off.
The concert flood has ebbed off considerably with the approach of the holidays. Furtwängler and Abendroth have said good-bye till the New Year. Schnêevoigt likewise, with a powerful rendition of Tschaikowsky’s Fifth (which it takes some courage to perform nowadays in the neo-classical atmosphere of Berlin), preceded by Reger’s variations of a Mozart theme. The remarkable events of the past fortnight have been the performance of compositions by Carl Nielsen, the Danish composer, and the second concert of the International Society for Contemporary Music (German Section), devoted to the British composers of today.
A Remarkable Composer.
Nielsen is a name to be reckoned with in modern music. It is not easy to “place” him, but there is little doubt in my mind that with Sibelius he is one of two big features in the music of the North, far more weighty and vital than Grieg,
Photo by Ursula Richter, Dresden
SCENE OF HINDEMITH’S OPERA, MÖRDER, HOFFNUNG DER FRAUEN Text and decoration by Paul Kokoschka.