Delivery—Style—"Form" versus "Feeling"—Conception—Essentials of a "Fine" Delivery—Orchestral Playing.

Delivery, Style, etc.

Up to the present chapter the student has been instructed how to interpret and perform that which he sees on the music sheet before him; to give a soulful and intelligent reading of any composition, he must look beyond the mere written notes, and see if it is not possible to discover some meaning, some effect which the composer has been unable to express in musical notation.

True music is conceived in the mind of the composer, in some more or less perfected form, before any attempt is made to transfer the ideas to paper. Of course each composer has his individual way of working, thus Beethoven never was without a note book in which he jotted down any bits of melody or any musical thought which occurred to his mind during his perambulations. Among these ideas may be found the leading themes from which some of his greatest compositions were afterwards developed. Mozart gives us an instance in the extreme opposite direction; it is stated that this wonderful composer carried the whole of a sonata for violin and pianoforte in his mind without a single note being transferred to paper, the composer taking part in a public performance of the same with only a duplicate of the violin copy at the pianoforte.

The student must keep in mind that the composer writes his thoughts; perhaps the reader is unable to conceive the difficulty of transferring to paper the musical thoughts which come unbidden to the mind; to write the notes is simplicity itself, but how impossible to write a melody so that every inflection of tone power, every slight change in tempo, and more than this the exact sentiment which the music should convey. To some people—perhaps to some players—music is merely the sounding of a variety of combinations of sounds, in various rhythms; it expresses nothing more than that. Emotion, sentiment, must not be given a place in the musician's vocabulary, anything which does not appeal solely to the intellect we are told to consider vulgar and sensual. Luckily for the string player these superior people are in a minority, the multitude are yet swayed, and to the end will continue to be moved by a melody sung or played from the heart.

Perhaps it is possible to find a parallel in art; one contemplates a beautiful geometrical design; clever, intricate, graceful, but how much better are we for its contemplation? Has it conveyed any truth? Is it possible to move a crowd either to tears or laughter? Is it possible to awaken either warlike or peaceful feelings in the breasts of the observers? How much greater to portray feelings than forms, thus a picture which depicts love, hatred, happiness, misery or gratitude, must be considered greater than a mere figure study. In landscape painting it is greater to reproduce living nature than mere studies of trees, sky, etc.; thus the painter who makes us see the driving snow, the rushing torrent, the beating rain, the fitful gleam of sunlight or even the passive stillness of the wood, conveys impressions to our minds, not only impressions of nature, but of certain states or moods of nature.

Compare some of the music by such as Romberg to that of Beethoven or Schumann; the first merely studies in sound, the latter brimful of thoughts, impressions, which appeal to the intellect of the performer, and test his musicianship by the manner in which they are expressed or overlooked.

The student should remember that all good music is composed with a strict observance of its effect on the listener; this does not mean that Beethoven wrote a scherzo for the sole purpose of causing people to feel jolly, any more than he wrote a funeral march or an adagio solely to make people sad. In all Beethoven's music, as in that of other great masters, the listener is purposely compelled to pass through various states of mind; where necessary the addition of a movement or section in quite a contrasting mood is purposely made, so that the mind of the listener is prepared for the ensuing movement. The composer writes what inspires him at the moment, but his greatness is shown in the manner in which these themes are contrasted and varied, so that the interest of the listener is sustained throughout the whole performance. This must be considered in the delivery of a musical composition. "It is the effect on the listener which one must constantly have in mind," no matter how turbulent are the feelings of the player, if the passion does not find its way into the delivery, the audience will be quite unaware of the fact. How is this to be accomplished? In reading aloud or reciting, if one only observes the ordinary rising and falling of the voice at the division of the periods, marks of interrogation, etc., it would be hardly possible to say that one read with expression. There is something more than this school boy elocution required; does not an orator hurry an impassioned passage, and drag a doleful one, does he not shout a command and whisper a tender sentence. So if the musician merely observes the rhythmical and dynamic effects, the performance may be correct, yet it will be void of soul, and of that force which carries along the hearer.

Exactly as in elocution, the performer must first grasp the intention of the composer before a soulful interpretation is possible; it is just this "conception," this grasp of the composer's meaning, this transforming of the groups of sound into a real living performance, which at once reveals the real genius. It is quite true that genius must be trained or it will fall into many errors and exaggerations, there are many who, guided by feeling alone, put such an amount of individuality and what is commonly termed expression into their performances, that the listener, led away by the rush of passion, overlooks the many errors with which the performance abounds. It is for the student to cultivate a style which shall satisfy the most refined tastes, at the same time infusing as much of his own personality and feeling into the delivery as the nature of the composition will admit. It is a difficult matter to give any absolute rules for the guidance of young players, let us, however, consider what constitutes a fine delivery.

The first essential is beauty of tone; it is recorded of Jenny Lind—an artist with a reputation more unique it would be difficult to find—that the quality of her voice was of such beauty that even the ordinary diatonic scale sung slowly, was enough to create the utmost enthusiasm. One writer describes the pleasure experienced from hearing the tone of her voice only, as that obtained by the sight of pure, brilliant colour; thousands who heard this great singer were melted to tears, even when the work was quite unintelligible to the majority of them; this was occasioned chiefly by the natural pathos in the tone of her voice, added to a personality as simple as sincere. The performer should always consider that "tone" is the fundamental matter with which he works; as a rule "tone" is generally thought to mean "big" tone, but this is not necessarily so; beautiful, sweet, brilliant tone should be the aim, big tone if possible, but never at the expense of quality, variety and phrasing.

The next matter of importance is a correct conception of tempo; as some writer has remarked, "it is possible to transform a scherzo into a funeral march by a wrong conception of tempo." This is a matter of great importance, but also a matter in which some of our finest players and conductors differ to an alarming extent. In the case of solo players this may be excused, as the tempo which may suit the characteristics of one player would perhaps be quite dull if adopted by a soloist with quite a different style. In the case of conductors, however, it is to be feared that much of this difference arises from a desire to be thought original, even at the expense of all tradition. In determining the tempo of a composition the character and general build of the work itself is the only guide.

The third essential is a faithful reproduction of all the dynamic effects marked by the composer, as well as all the varieties in tempo such as ritards, calando passages, accelerandos, etc., etc.; beyond this may be again mentioned the different varieties of tone, the playing of certain passages on one string in preference to another, artificial shifting for the purpose of a correct phrasing, the increasing or retarding of the tempo other than marked by the composer; these latter liberties are only applicable to compositions of the lyric or romantic type, in the delivery of which it is needful to introduce the emotional element, and are not intended to be introduced in compositions which depend solely or chiefly on rhythm for their effect. Under the latter head may be classed mazurkas, tarantelles, etc., and nearly all dance movements, except those of the sentimental type.

The fugue also comes under the same head, it is possible to express rhythm in musical notation but not emotion, and it must be remembered that the fugue is the outcome of a highly trained intellect, and not the outcome of inspiration in its independent sense. The fugue is really "paper" music, it is possible to write more than could possibly be imagined, this also applies in some degree to pieces of a highly contrapuntal nature. In concluding this part of our subject it may be recommended to the player to learn to anticipate effects—to hear in advance that which he is about to play. "Expression is the manifestation of impression," if the performer is not sensitive to the generating causes of expression—if these make no impression on him, it will be impossible for him to feel what he is playing, this system of reading in advance allows the performer to thoroughly grasp the musical phrase, and to give it a sensible intelligent treatment. In playing at sight, or in the performance of concerted music, this is of great importance.

The foregoing remarks on individuality of interpretation do not apply to the performance of concerted music; in playing trios, quartets, and especially in orchestral work the performers must sink their own individuality, for the sake of the general effect: in orchestral playing, purity of intonation, a strict and decided division of the notes, and especially in large orchestras, what may be termed an exaggerated interpretation of the dynamics, must form the basis. All artificial shifting must be dispensed with, gliding along the strings must also not be indulged in, except in some unison passages where all the players can decide to finger the passage in the same manner; passages marked "piano" must be played throughout "piano," and not as in solo work, be varied by slight crescendos, etc., according as the passage rises or falls, etc. The reader will readily understand that a theme played pianissimo by a half-dozen 'cellos will have an entirely different effect than the same theme played by one instrument, even if the same body of tone is produced. A number of instruments playing in unison impart a grandeur to a passage which is quite characteristic; it must be remembered that composers have this effect in their minds when writing for strings in the orchestra. The conception of the work and its manner of delivery rests entirely with the conductor, each player for the time being must accept his reading, and be as subservient to the will of the conductor as are the keys of a pianoforte to the fingers of the musician.

In concluding it is as well to remember that we are not all constituted alike; some are born to be leaders, they have will, individuality, originality; others are more fit to be lead, they can accomplish much under the guidance of some master mind, but if left to themselves are utterly useless.

To place a fine solo player in an orchestra would be equal to compelling the general of an army to serve in the line. The reverse is not always the case, there are many who although brilliant and successful in the orchestra are useless for any other branch of playing. Let each one perfect himself in the branch of art for which he is most suited; exactly as it is impossible for a musician to be "master" of more than one instrument, so it is impossible to arrive at perfection in every branch of music. There are many fine solo players who have had long experience with the orchestra, but they have been soloists in spite of this.

The End.

TENTH YEAR OF ISSUE.

The Largest Circulation in the World of any paper amongst Violinists