Music
THE TYRANNY OF THE CONDUCTOR.
The conductor's art has been developed to such a fine degree That there is a distinct danger that its original purpose may be obscured. It is well, therefore, to inquire (even if we think we know already) what the function of the conductor really is. In the first place, it is obvious that there is in him something of the nature of a drill-sergeant. Any orchestra of more than a dozen players is in need not only of a leader but also of a director. Time values, of course, must be settled beforehand, but they must also be indicated on the occasion of performance. Even between a morning and an evening of the same day, the association of a dozen or more opinions may lead to some slight disparity in the total effect. The conductor is there to correct that possibility. There may have been some almost imperceptible change in his own judg- ment between the final rehearsal and the performance, but whatever the change, the judgment will be final. As a time-keeper, then, the conductor is entitled to be a tyrant. It is when we enter upon the larger question of interpretation that we have the right to question his tyranny. -There can be no doubt that, more than the pianist or violinist, more than the lieder singer, more even than the opera prima donna, the conductor is tempted to exploit music for the purposes of self-assertion, which is as much as to say, for the purposes of self-glorification. Here in England we encounter comparatively few instances of this ; but in those countries that can boast of virtuoso orchestras such examples are more common. It is possible to judge from ..aramophone recordings the extent to which the American orchestras and their con- ductors are yielding to this temptation. A case in point is the record of Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor played as a transcription by the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra. I presume that this transcription has been made by the con- ductor (Stokowski). It is both ingenious and irreverent. There are episodes where the transcriber has gone so far as to alter the composer's time-values. It would be interesting to hear his reasons. We should probably find that the changes were made " for effect." The performance is certainly effective. It is exhilarating ; but (to me) it is also terrifying. There is no point of contact between this interpretation and the spirit of Bach. They are as far apart as are present-day Philadelphia and eighteenth-century Leipzig. The unan- imity and resilience of the strings are very impressive, but I cannot escape the feeling that the texture of Bach's music is all the time in danger of being torn by their relentless on- slaught. The "attack " of the Philadelphia players has a military rather than a musical significance. It is true that there are -episodes in which organ-tone is very cleverly aped, but the impression is of a mammoth instrument designed to drown the traffic-din of a large modem town, rather than of an unpretentious two-manual organ fashioned to intensify the holy quiet of a parish church.
This is an instance of a tyranny which is anything but beneficent ; and in admitting this, we are not necessarily condemning the practice of transcriptions in every case. Stokowski is not the only musician who has seen fit to sound Bach's music through the megaphone of a full modern orchestra. Surely there is example enough for it, when a composer of Elgar's standing writes an orchestral version of a Bach Prelude and Fugue. Even so, I can never escape the impression, when hearing these versions, that old Bach has been made an honorary Colonel of some crack regiment. In the Elgar transcription, the uniform fits him well enough, but he is not quite at ease in his deportment, and in the Stokowski version his gait and features are almost completely disguised.
But I am not so much concerned here with the question of transcription as with the high-handed methods of conductors in the interpretation of works. I have cited an example in which the spirit of a work is sacrificed for immediate effect. Whenever an orchestra has attained the plane of virtuosity, .there is always the danger that the conductor will (either wantonly or unconsciously) emplpy it for the amplification of his personal predilections. It may be objected that if he is a true musician these personal ideas cannot fail to coincide with the spirit and style of the music. But even the World of Music is not without Sin; when a musician errs, great be indeed is the sin - for he as betrayed a sacred stewardship. Who shall say that he has erred, and wherein ? For what does criticism exist, if not for correcting slight deviations and for reprimanding the unjust stewards ? ' This is not to say that conductors must toe an unduly narrow line. The fact that Beecham's " Messiah " won the general approval of critics shows that there still exists a wide territory for the conductor to explore, always provided that he sets out armed with sincerity and reverence. There can be no doubt that the success of Furtwiingler and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra in London was chiefly due to the fact that in spite of their close and complete unity, both as a physical instrument and as an interpretative medium, they resolutely refused to court popillar favour by' emphasizing their virtuosity at the expense of the true nature of the music. Furtwiingler is not among the greatest conductors in the whole world, but that he is a comprehending musician was made clear by the performances he gave (when the Orchestra first visited us) of the Meistersinger overture and Tschaikow- sky's Fifth Symphony. Both works are sufficiently familiar to tempt a conductor to give sensational readings. The fact that the temptation was resisted in both cases was evidence of Furtwiingler's right-mindedness.
Such instances are rare enough to be memorable. They serve to remind us that the conductor, even if he is a monarch, is still a limited monarch, subject to laws which he can put into execution, but which he himself has not created.
BASIL MAINE.
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