BUSONI'S AT THE KEYBOARD
August Spanuth Gives an Interesting Word-Picture
of the Noted Pianist's Recent Berlin Recital
"Whenever Busoni announces a piano recital, even many a veteran, who has long since tired of public musical performances, prepares for a visit to the concert room - thus it came that Busoni played his last recital again before a parterre of pianists old and young, of maidens and youths who aspire for pianistic honors, of musical gourmets of all descriptions and of critics, who had sharpened both ear and pencil," writes August Spanuth in Die Signale.
"One may well offer something extraordinary to so extraordinary an audience, and the more so if one's name should be Busoni - and the critic is best able to keep out of trouble by resorting for the nonce to the extraordinary as well, in declaring that 'there is nothing to criticise.'
"Busoni has raised pianism - sit venia verbo - to such giddy heights that even experienced musicians, without field-glasses, are hardly able to clearly see what he is doing up there. WHen he plays the four Chopin Ballads, and the Chopin admirer listens for minutes without recognizing the well-known tone pictures, the admirer in his innocence is quite justified in asking whether Chopin is not after all greater than Busoni, and thus is entitled to be protected against the paroxysm of rapidity. But the question is foolish, since Chopin is dead and Busoni is very much alive, and, as it happens, the living are always right. Maybe an appeal to Busoni's kind heart would help. For he is really kind-hearted, and always ready to do what he can when art is concerned. How would it do to present to him the fact that just the very students, the young folk ready to be impressed, crowd his recitals? And that these seekers after truth believing Busoni to be infallible, must gain the conviction that Chopin must be played as Busoni does and not in any other way. How would it be to ask him whether this is not likely to harm and create confusion in the young minds? Just take the coda of the F Minor Ballad - unless one has heard it with one's own ears, one cannot believe that ten human fingers are capable of creating such a tempo. But with such rapid tearing past, even he who knoweth every single note well is not able to discern the correct scheme, and much less able to obtain the plastic impression, which, after all is said and done, should be demanded first of all, of all reproducing artists.
"But stop, lest even these reflections should be regarded as criticism!"
"Busoni's Beethoven playing is not nearly well enough understood. He isindeed a master among masters of the keyboard who is able to lend such vivid and spiritual range coloring to the long-drawn adagio of the Hammerklavier sonate; this adagio, which in the hands of most painists is extremely boring. And then the sunlight clearness of the complicated fugue - there again rapidity without example was brought into play, so that one felt an attack of giddiness approaching, as the very theme was being given out; but here, on the other hand, the clearness of the plastic picture was not lost for one single moment. Most Beethovians probably prefer the first movement played somewhat slower than the composer's marks indicate, whereas Busoni took it at an even faster tempo. It is really an exception if any composer lays down the tempo of his own compositions correctly. This is quite feasible, for the mere intention to mark a mechanical tempo indicates a preoccupation of mind, as it must interfere with the spontaneity of the rhythmic sense. A spectral lustre was given to the scherzo by Busoni's prestissimo, which surpasses the prestissimo of all others. All in all, with the exception of the first movement, the playing of Opus 106 was nothing less than a revelation.
"In Liszt's 'Don Juan Phantasie,' the admired one showed himself as a real demon of the pianoforte. Is it possible that there are still musicians in existence who really could wish to deny the congeniality of this Liszt arrangement?
"Busoni then presented one of his own compositions 'A Sonatine.' Certainly this description has not been selected without real justification, but probably also not without a slight ironical undercurrent of thought. 'A Sonatine' means a piece for beginners, and in this Sonatine the composer may have regarded himself as the beginner or founder of a new system of harmonies. One imagines to hear expressed by it Busoni's longing for thirds.
"Busoni is a revolutionist, and in the piano playing world, we have but one of his kind."
