MUSIC
SordtE ill-tempered and possibly ill-considered remarks of mine on the subject of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony last April brought me, most unexpectedly, letters of thanks from several people in England and Scotland and even one from Germany. They were all, I think, people like myself who had felt themselves subjected to a kind of tyranny of taste, the incubus of a musical absolute against which there was no appeal. It is now, of course, my duty to reconsider my whole position vis-a-vis No. 9. For when the vast weight of opinion, both informed and uninformed, proclaims a work one of the major masterpieces it behoves all sensible people to learn to respect and admire, even if they cannot love, it. It was with these good resolutions that I went to the performance by the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra's performance conducted by Furtwangler on October 6th. I found the extreme suavity and reserve of the first two movements puzzling. Surely, whether one happens to like it or not, the first movement must give the impres- sion of vastness, of the Spirit brooding over the waters and rudely interrupted by an intensely dramatic struggle which can justly be called Titanic or Promethean. In the same way the second move- ment must be a colossal dance of primitive rhythmic energy. Dr. Furtwangler's interpretations seemed to me small-scale and lacking
in breadth and grandeur of conception here. The slow movement, on the other hand, was wholly successful and of course gained enormously by the very beautiful string tone. The last movement, too, though- occasionally jerky in tempo like all Dr. Furtwangler's interpretations, did genuinely mount from climax to climax instead of spending all its energy before it was even properly launched, as too often happens.
The next evening Joseph Krips conducted the Vienna Philharmonic in a programme of Strauss—mostly Johann, but a little Joseph thrown in. This gave the orchestra their opportunity to do what they alone can ; this was the real specialize de la maison and wholly delicious it was: It would be difficult to imagine the sweetness of tone of the string soloists who open G'schichten aus dem Wiener Wald without automatically supposing the saccharine wobble of our modern dance orchestras; it was indeed the best sugar. The waltz rhythm we take for granted from the Viennese, but could not our " light" orchestras learn something at least approaching it, by attending a rehearsal or so ? Two interesting points suggested themselves to me as I listened to this dance music. First, that a certain archness— the distinguishing mark of the polkas—can be wholly justifiable artistically (and this, incidentally, brings up the whole question of the performance of many of Schumann's lesser passages in his greater works) and that this deliberate, coquettish atmosphere of suspense demands the firmest discipline if it is to succeed. Secondly—and more tritely—how pathetically anaemic and spiritless, how tame and vulgar, our pleasures are compared with those of our grandfathers, if we can judge by comparing the accompanying music.
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Walter Gieseking's return to London in a recital on October ioth was marked by some very beautiful playing of Mozart (A major sonata K.331) and Debussy (six of the Preludes). Casella's sonatina (1916) demanded something like the same technique as the Debussy, except in the last movement, and Gieseking's highly strung and almost super-sensitive style suited the music excellently. The Wald- stein sonata was too hectic, though ; there must be weight and depth as well as nervous energy in Beethoven. And the absence of a real legato and singing tone quite spoiled Chopin's big Barcarolle which is the locus classicus of bel canto transferred to the piano
MARTIN COOPER.
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