MUSICAL COURIER
June 14, 1923
8
international musical life may be at the bottom of this.
Variety, however, becomes a negative virtue when a certain homogeneous line of style is left in favor of motliness. This, for instance, was the case in the program presented by the American baritone, Parish Williams, who coupled ancient Italians like Secchi, Monteverdi, Durante and old English songs by Handel, with some rather crude American songs by Katherine A. Glen and Rhea Silberta, followed chronologically by Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, H. Wolf and R. Strauss. The rather unhappy selection of the two American songs is all the more to be deplored, as Europe is watching with eager eyes the development of American music and American musicians should take double care to select only the best. As a singer with a well-trained and equally well-sounding voice of outspoken lyrical qualities, Mr. Williams could book a decided success. Especially for his fine delivery of Schumann’s Frühlingsnacht and R. Strauss’ Traum durch die Dämmerung he reaped unstinted applause.
American Pianists Impress.
A number of American pianists again left a decidedly favorable impression. Harold Henry presented a very interesting program, containing among pieces by Bach, Brahms, Schubert and Liszt, MacDowell’s sonata No. 4, which has not been heard here in such perfection of execution for a long time. Mr. Henry’s splendid technical equipment showed itself at its best in Bach’s G major toccata; he played it with smooth virtuosity without, however, permitting for one moment the thought of an etude to come to the fore, and with surprising dynamic economy. Thus he was able to achieve an astonishing climax.
Edward Weiss, one of Busoni’s most gifted pupils, who can already count on a circle of admirers in Munich, played two stupendous Liszt programs in his recitals—a task to which only a pianist of the first rank may aspire. Mr. Weiss is all of that; he commands not only a technical virtuosity of the highest order, but also the youthful temperament, fire and esprit without which Liszt’s piano music risks becoming a mere display of skilled virtuosity. Liszt as a composer is, in late years, not much in favor here, but I think this fact proves less against Liszt than against his interpreters. He was a specialist in the full sense of the word and created a style of his own. Edward Weiss met all the requirements of this style, in fact, he held his audience spellbound from first to last, reaping an unlimited amount of enthusiastic applause.
A highly promising talent also is that of Lillian L. Rogers, who played the G minor fantasy and fugue, by Bach-Liszt, with surprising tonal proportion and clarified expression. In Chopin she displayed, besides a very sensitive touch and minute rhythmical exactness—which, by the way, is a rare virtue in women Chopin players—also a charming poetical vein and soulful warmth.
Hyman Rovinsky is a pianist of quite another mould—an enthusiast, an earnest seeker after an individual style of expression, a thinker pondering over pianistic problems and yet a sort^ of reckless plunger when he warms up at the piano. This with him is not a question of hampered talent, but one of temperament, of which he has a full measure. His remarkable beauty of tone is occasionally marred by overheated accents and outbursts of feeling, but he always finds his way back again to the required line of style and expression. This goes far to prove that this pianist needs a particular choice of program to meet the present stage of his pianistic and artistic development. The Bach-Liszt prelude and fugue, Brahms’ rhapsodies and the presto from Chopin’s B minor sonata lie in that line. D’lndy’s Travel Pictures and Ravel’s daintily rippling music, for which Rovinsky seems to have a preference, need a more evenly tempered disposition. On the whole one again had the impression that this young pianist will make his way; even today he never fails to awaken and keep up the interest of his listeners. The generous applause was the best proof °f this.	Albert Noelte.
A Day of Music Given by Etta Gabbert’s Pupils
Etta Gabbert, of Davenport, Iowa, gave her series of spring recitals this season as A Day of Music, and there were forty pupils of all the grades and advanced class presented in recital at the Hotel Blackhawk, May 26, in groups of interesting programs.
The music was all from memory, and each and every one of the young musicians gave a creditable account of the splendid work that has been done the past year. The programs began at 10 o’clock in the morning and were given in the gold ballroom, the little folks of the primary having the first set of numbers. The Dancing School in Noah’s Ark, by Forence Maxim, was given. Each child represented an animal of some sort in costume, giving a dance before the selection of interpretative music. The intermediates followed with Oriental selections, also done in costume, and the afternoon was given over to older pupils. In the evening Miss Gabbert presented three of her advanced pupils—Helen Petersen, Dorothy Sanderson and Adolph Kohlhammer. Miss Petersen gave a fine rendition of The Pompadour's Fan, by Cadman, The Old Guide’s Story, and the Lumberjack Dance, by Eastwood Lane.
Dorothy Sanderson played charmingly The Orientale, by N. Amani, Gondola by Henselt, prelude by Chopin, Scher-zino by Moszkowski, and Solfeggettio by Bach. The latter was one of her best numbers.
Adolph Kohlhammer gave an interesting and intelligent interpretation of a group of piano numbers, each of which was representative of a foreign country. As an introduction to this group of pieces Mr. Kohlhammer announced that he would take his audience around the world with him in a half hour. His program was as follows:	Orientale,
Cui; Morning (Peer Gynt Suite), Grieg; Turkish March] Beethoven; Caprice Viennois, Kreisler; Country Dance, Beethoven; Elfin Dance, Grieg; Country Gardens, Grainger]
The closing number, a rondo for two pianos by Chopin, played by Helen Petersen and Adolph Kohlhammer, displayed excellent technic and artistic intelligence. Assisting on this program was Opal Griswold, who offered musical chalk talk; Iva Belle Crandall, reader, and little Mary Carpenter, dancer.
Kathryn Meisle Sings Watts’ Transformation
During the past season, Kathryn Meisle, American contralto, has been singing with much success a song called Transformation, by Wintter Watts, who has just been awarded the Pulitzer Travelling Scholarship prize in musical composition. Mr. Watts sailed on May 19 to take advantage of the scholarship which has a value of $1,500 a year.
WAGNER’S UNKNOWN OPERA, LIEBESVERBOT,
REVIVED AFTER EIGHTY-SEVEN YEARS
Other “Exhumations” at National Opera Include William Tell—Musico-Patriotic Demonstrations—American Artists Well
Received
the curiosity of some Wagner-enthusiasts-at-any־cost. But it certainly could not claim the interest of the scientific musical researcher and historian, since the work was not given in the original' Wagnerian setting but had to be considerably altered and retouched to make a performance possible. Many cuts had to be made, scenes drawn together, the whole opera divided into three instead of two acts and especially the instrumentation had to be retouched throughout, since the young composer seemed at times more than eager to rival a circus band. Even now, after the clever modifications, one is rather disappointed not to see gaudily equipped horses canter into the arena (pardon, the scene) after the “brilliant” overture.
The new setting, if so it may be called, is the clever work of Robert Heger, who proved himself again on this occasion a splendid conductor and genial musical dramaturge. In fact it was Heger who made the work at all possible by applying his high musical and artistic culture to a rather ungratifying object. He also enlivened the score with high flashing temperament and lively verve. In Nelly Merz (Isabella). Margot Leander (Marianna), Fritz Krauss (Claudio), Hans Depser (Lucio) and Friedrich Brodersen (Governor) in the principal roles he had eager helpmates towards success. The “true Wagnerites”—a term applied by Bernard Shaw to the unflinching fanatics—of course put this success down to Wagner’s geniality; the fact is, however, that the applause was in the first place due to the excellent performance.
Now, that everything is over, one is inclined to ask why a bowdlerization of Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure could cause so Much Ado about Nothing—for I must not forget to mention that a very large number of unflinching “true Wagnerites” had come from all parts of the country and from the border-lands to be witness to this questionable glorification of a great man’s sin of youth.
William Tell Causes Patriotic Explosion.
The exhumation of antiquated scores seems to be the latest fad of our opera; within the last few weeks we had re-studied performances at Konradin Kreutzer’s sugar-and-water opera Das Nachtlager in Granada, Rossini’s William Tell, Donizetti’s enchanting Don Pasquale, and Flotow’s Alessandra Stradella. The performance of Rossini’s William Tell furnished the occasion for a mighty patrtiotic demonstration after the Rutli scene, which had to be repeated, a thing unheard of in ,the annals of our opera house. Our opera management seems to have entirely forgotten that contemporary composers have in these hard times a double claim on an institute largely supported by state, i. e. public means. I hear, however, that next season’s repertory will contain a number of first performances.
A Concert From The Ruhr.
A musical event of special interest was a concert given by the combined orchestras of the Ruhr section, whose headquarters are at Essen, Bochum and Dortmund. Owing to the munificence of Felix Bergmann (the donor of the new concert-hall) these orchestras were enabled to come to Munich and plead in their own way for the cause of the sorely tried Ruhr population. It was, in fact, more than a musical, it was a national event. The concert was given in the large building of the Circus Krone, since no other establishment was big enough to accommodate the great throngs who wished to be present. The immense hall held a record audience a'nd although the acoustics were not exactly ideal (the orchestra had to be placed in the center of the arena) enthusiasm reached the highest pitch possible. The program contained Beethoven’s C minor symphony, Reger’s Prologue to a Tragedy, Pfitzner’s Klage for baritone solo (splendidly sung by Max Spielker of Dortmund) and orchestra, and Brahms’ C minor symphony. The conductors were Wilhelm Sieben (Dortmund), Schulz-Dornburg (Bochum) and Max Fiedler (Essen), “the grand old man” among German conductors, who, despite his now almost white hair, still spreads an atmosphere of youthful elasticity and unimpaired fiery temperament about him. Although some of the musicians had to play on borrowed instruments, since the French did not permit them to take their own instruments along, the combined orchestras were very well matched and presented an imposing homogeneous body of tonal volume.
Americans Well Received.
Among the numerous artists America has sent during this season pianists predominated to a large percentage. And it must be said, that although widely differing in quality, there was not one among them whose playing fell short of the mark required by the public concert stage. This, by the way, can by no means be said of all the pianists we hear here during a long winter. It is also but fair to state that these artists were openly welcomed here, not only because international rivalry adds zest to a concert season, but because American artists seem to be especially gifted for the presentation of variegated programs. America's
Munich, May IS.—Before Richard Wagner was twenty-one years old he had already written his first opera, Die Feen (The Fairies), in which the characteristics of his great musical ancestors—Beethoven, Weber and Marschner —found a conspicious sounding echo. It was by all means the work of a serious and decidedly gifted artist and a promise for the future. However, young Wagner had, according to his own confession, become a bit suspicious towards the German opera, but this suspicion, I dare say, was at least partly fostered by the splendid successes achieved by Auber, Bellini and Herold at that time.
Besides that, Wagner was in close touch with the leading spirits of a mildly revolutionary circle called “young Europe,” and the ideas of this group of high-flying liberals ripened in him an irresistible desire to lay down his immature discontent with the narrow boundary line of acknowledged morals and to demonstrate his defiant affirmative of life in an opera. From this momentary psychic focus to the emancipation from a certain mysticism which had played an important part in Die Feen, was but one step, and this step led to the composition of Wagner’s second opera, Das Liebesverbot (The Ban of Love).
Here the abstract was—also in the music—to be replaced by esprit and wit and the true models for both of these attributes young Wagner felt certain to find in the most perfect state of genuineness in the works of the then popular Italian and French opera composers. Thus the great difference of style between Die Feen and Das Liebesverbot is sufficiently accounted for. Whereas in Die Feen, melody, harmony and the independently characterizing orchestra points already towards the opera of the future, Wagner threw himself in the Liebesverbot unconditionally into the arms of the fashionable and mostly favored French-Italian opera phraseology and thus cancelled at the same time the obligations to which this temporary alliance with the French and Italians had subjected him.
Wagner’s Unscrupulous Use of Tricks.
In this attempt he seems to have been but little hampered by artistic scruples; on the contrary, he applied about all the cunning tricks and artful devices which had made the contemporary Italian and French operas successful and popular, and this led him, in the Liebesverbot, at times to a frightfully depressing artistic niveau. Especially the comic scenes are laden with hackneyed phrases, the instrumentation contains an almost unbearable measure of gruesome trivialities. In the design of the melodic outline, especially in the oily duet, moving in sugary thirds, between Isabella and Marianna, Wagner became deeply obligated to the Italians; in the excited chorus-scenes and the massed instrumental puns, to the French. Only once, namely in Isabella’s passionate accusation of the Governor, we find a timid echo from Beethoven’s Fidelio; on another occasion, however—in the short instrumental introduction to a beautifully set Salve Regina—we hear for the first time, note for note, the Rome-motiv from Tannhäuser.
Everything else smacks of success at any price, and if Wagner did not become—in spite of his acknowledged inclinations—wholly a victim of the hollow phrase, it is merely the merit of his inborn artistic truthfulness and independence in matters of emotional expression and of his sensuous impetuosity, which in spite of a frightful unconcern in regard to the means of expression, proved strong enough to adorn even the phrase with a faint glamor of convincing genuineness. This, together with the sureness with which Wagner even at that youthful age handled the stage, reconciles one at least to some extent with the Liebesverbot as a youthful error—acknowledged as such by Wagner himself.
Making Free With Shakespeare.
The subject for the Liebesverbot Wagner took from Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, but here too he set about with remarkable unconcern, sacrificing the high ethical points of the Shakespearean play in favor of a doctrine preached by the disciples of “young Europe” about the “emancipation of the flesh.” In place of Shakespeare’s serious idea of unswerving and inexorable justice, Wagner set, according to the example given in the Ardinghello, the glorification of mere sensuousness. This, however, not at all in consideration of the theory of “natural selection,” but in the^ first place as agitative means for the purpose of revolutionizing things established. (It is to be remembered that young Wagner stood at that time strongly under the impression of the stormy Paris July days.)
How The Score Was “Fixed Up.”
The Liebesverbot was heretofore performed only once, in March, 1836, at Magdeburg, where Wagner was conductor at the time; after this one and only performance he consigned the score to the tomb of benevolent forgetfulness. And there it should have remained, for its exhumation proved nothing for Wagner excepting that he was a talented imitator, though, as regards taste not a very scrupulous one. The re-awakening of the score satisfied at best only