(_By our Modernist Critic_).
A certain amount of dissatisfaction has been expressed with the
Negro Rhapsody by Mr. JOHN POWELL, performed by the New York Symphony
Orchestra, at their concert last week. According to the analytical
programme the composer has sought _inter alia_ to depict "the
degenerative frenzy of a Voodoo orgy" and "the physical impulses
of the adult human animal," culminating in "a flood of primal
sensualism." Yet, if the Press is to be believed, the performance fell
lamentably short in the epileptic quality so finely displayed by many
of the coloured Jazz-band players now in London. None of the audience
had to be removed; _The Morning Post_ only speaks of the "becoming
picturesqueness of design" of the Rhapsody; while _The Times'_ critic
did not care much for it because it took too long to get to business,
and adds that he was not very sure what its business exactly was.
This, in view of the extremely explicit statement of the composer's
aim given in the programme, seems to us most unjust.
Here is a gifted composer with high and serious aims--for what could
be more instructive or spiritual than a musical rendering of "the
degenerative frenzy of a Voodoo orgy"?--and the musical critics either
evade the issue by talking vaguely of picturesqueness or deny that he
means business. Verily the lot of the composer is hard. Quite recently
I heard of a native British symphonist who had composed a remarkable
orchestral Fantasy dealing with the psychology of members of the
N.U.R. engaged in the railway transport of fish and milk. I have not
heard the music, because unfortunately it has not yet been performed,
but I have read the programme, and nothing more stimulating can be
imagined than the final section, in which a terrific cannonade of
milk-cans is combined with a marvellous explosion of objurgation
from the fish-porters on strike. Yet if it were to be performed
_The Morning Post_ would probably dismiss it with a few polysyllabic
platitudes and _The Times_ affect ignorance of what it was all about!
In view of the misconceptions and misinterpretations to which serious
composers are subject, we are not surprised to hear that a society
has been formed for the purpose of giving "silent auditions" of modern
masterpieces. No orchestra nor any instrument will be employed, but
each member of the audience will be provided with a full score. The
first hour will be devoted to the study of the music; the audience
will then write down their impressions for half-an-hour; subsequently
the composer will expound his aims from the platform; and the price
of admission will be returned to the student whose impressions accord
most closely with the composer's "programme." In this way the cost of
concert-giving will be considerably reduced, and it is also hoped
that the consumption of sedative tablets, which has reached formidable
dimensions amongst frequenters of symphonic concerts, will be rendered
unnecessary.
Our only criticism of this admirable scheme is this--that the number
of amateurs who can read a modern full-score at sight is still
somewhat limited. The view that "heard melodies are sweet, but those
unheard are sweeter" might be quoted in support of "silent auditions"
were it not for the unfortunate fact that KEATS, who expressed it, is
now completely out of fashion with our emancipated Georgians. But
the broad fact remains that the forces of reaction are by no means
crushed. The Handel Festival has been revived at the Crystal Palace;
and Handel-worship is anathema to the Modernist, as redolent of
roast-beef, middle-class respectability and religious orthodoxy.
Only recently a brilliant writer compared his oratorios to
mothers'-meetings. The revival of these explosions of pietistic
jumbomania is indeed a sad set-back to those ardent reformers who seek
to elevate and purify public taste by the musical delineation of "the
degenerative frenzy of a Voodoo orgy."
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