Before we zoom in on a couple of collaborations between composer and instrumentalist, we take a general look at the role exercised by the instrumentalist during the process of performing music.
A first element to take into account is how the profiles of composer and performer evolved from being one and the same to stand-alone. The second element to observe is the position occupied by the instrument at that specific moment in time.
When looking at the Romantic composers for instance, there are some notable factors regarding the music being written. To begin with, when investigating the repertoire we can point out that at this time the piano and the violin were the prominent instruments – the others mainly functioning as orchestral instruments and in the context of chamber music. Furthermore there is the fact that the vast majority of composers were great instrumentalists (pianists and violinists in particular) first and foremost; think of Liszt, Paganini, Mendelssohn, Brahms, Chopin etc.
Though piano and violin are more commonly acknowledged, the other instruments owe the bulk of their solo repertoire to instrumentalist-composers. This applies equally, and perhaps especially, to the harp. Harpists are composing music for the harp. Felix Godefroid, Charles Oberthur, Elias Parish-Alvars, Alfred Zabel were epitomes of the Romantic harp practice, while (more importantly) at the same time they left behind an oeuvre for their instrument which still features prominently within the repertoire. Marcel Tournier and Henriette Renié being the last great flags of this nineteenth-century author-performer profile.
The repertoire prior to these harpist-composers is very modest: Louis Spohr's Fantaisie, op. 35, Engelbert Humperdinck's Nachtstück and Carl Reinecke’s Harp Concerto among a very small number of noteworthy compositions written by ‘real' composers – non-harpist composers. Intriguingly these gentlemen did have a connection to the instrument, much like Jan Ladislav Dussek in the eighteenth century and more recently Heinz and Ursula Holliger. Spohr had taken some harp lessons at an early age and later met harpist Dorothea Scheidler, who left a big impression. She was a star pupil of well-known Johann Georg Heinrich Backofen, who played a quite astonishing number of instruments at the highest level, including the harp. Humperdinck was in love with Cologne based harpist Brunhilde Bohner.
We could of course speculate to the reason why the other instruments did not enjoy the same following piano and violin did, indicating the technical and musical possibilities, or the stage of development of the instrument – both plausible in the case of the harp as there is a quite noticeable increase in repertoire for the instrument when the modern harp makes its appearance.
Supporting the case of the instrument’s deficiencies Paul Hindemith's recommendation of the harp in 1949/50 was not at all glowing: “Remove the keyboard from a piano and what remains is basically a harp. The simpleton who took the harp for a nude piano did not know how in his innocence he touched one of the mysteries of musical genetics! Nevertheless, the harp in its natural form, unhampered by a keyboard, has, in spite of its closeness to the player’s touch, enough weaknesses to prevent it from assuming a place in the very first rank of important musical implement.” (Hindemith, P. 1952)
It may therefore come as quite the surprise that he did devote a lot of time working on his Sonate für Harfe.
Another striking element is that at that time a new generation of specialised harpists enters the scene; non-composing harpists like Micheline Kahn, Lily Laskine, Pierre Jamet for whom a great deal of composers (Fauré, Ravel, Caplet, Roussel, Cras) wrote pieces.
The profiles of instrumentalist/performer and composer break away from each other, which consequently changes their roles significantly. In the case of the harp Marcel Grandjany and Carlos Salzedo are the exception to the rule, being both distinguished harpists and contributors to the repertoire.
There is a fundamental shift: as composers and performers are no longer one and the same person, they differ from each other, as do their issues. Whereas before the composer related to a piece as a performer once he finished composing, at this point a new relation between composer and piece arises; he becomes a listener.
Stravinsky spoke extensively about his distrust of interpretation by performers, considering them as undesirable middle men (Stravinsky, I. 1935). He additionally opposed the idea of establishing a legend, or text to guide performers, not subscribing to their value in producing truthful execution. He even went as far as eliminating this nuisance by producing recorded performances of seemingly his entire oeuvre.
By virtue of his recordings his attachment to objectivity and conveying the intention of the composer himself reaches its pinnacle.
You could argue his indifference towards the performer's qualities regarding so-called personality are symptomatic of the beliefs on interpretation of the twentieth-century.
It is at this time we notice a surge in what we could refer to as a 'musicological' attitude toward performing, as Taruskin describes it: "We tend to assume that if we can recreate all the external conditions that obtained in the original performance of a piece we will thus recreate the composer's inner experience of the piece and thus allow him to speak for himself." (Taruskin, R. 1982)
The field of musicology henceforth gains in importance, as does the concept of 'historical performance practice'. Musicologists chose to specialise themselves in highly particular subjects. Dmitri Shostakovich quoted a definition his piano teacher had shared with him over breakfast: "What's a musicologist? I'll tell you. Our cook, Pasha, prepared the scrambled eggs for us and we are eating them. Now imagine a person who did not cook the eggs and does not eat them, but talks about them: that is a musicologist." (Malko, N. 1969)
A common statement uttered by composers, audience members and, yes, musicologists alike springs to mind: 'let the music speak for itself.'
If we assume 'letting the music speak for itself' means we strive to realise the intentions of the composer, it does beg the question if we could truly believe we are able to – considering most of the composers whose music we perform are dead.
On their first meeting Claude Debussy, being a pianist himself, said to George Copeland he never thought he would hear his music played so well during his lifetime (Copeland, G. 1958) – which does seem to imply Debussy’s intentions were being realised to his satisfaction by the pianist. When playing Reflets dans L'eau however, Debussy asked him why he played the opening the way he did. Copeland responded he did so because he ‘felt it that way’ – we cannot imagine Stravinsky responding very well to this response. Debussy on the other hand replied that although he felt it differently, Copeland should play it as he deemed fit. Debussy accepted the pianist as being as much of an authority on the subject as he himself, which gives the impression Debussy in this instance regarded himself as an interpreter rather than the composer of the piece.
Taruskin remarks that the notion of letting music speak for itself (involuntary) implies ''hostility, contempt, or at least mistrust of performers.'' Within this context Taruskin mentions an infamous incident starring Brahms declining an invitation to the opera, stating that he'd hear a better performance just sitting at home with the score. (Taruskin, R. 1982)
When inspecting the role of the performer as interpreter and ‘historical performance practice’ we come across the issue of aesthetics, which we could assume are personal and marked by a broader context (time, place, social background). Looking at it from a musicologist’s point of view it would be of interest to understand the context and aesthetic in which a composer wrote the music. At the same time we notice that performance practice evolved over time; we can tell the difference simply by listening to Bach recordings of the twentieth century for instance.
An example of the importance of context can be found in Eduard Hanslick's 'Vom Musikalisch-Schönen' published in 1854. In particular, the intended refutation of the ‘unscientific aesthetics of sentiment' – we can imagine Stravinsky pointing a finger at the performer – and the programme music by Berlioz, Liszt and others to which Hanslick was opposed. Music in which literary and other verbal models serve to expand musical expression. Of course in this instant we are only taking into account the voice of the composer. Hanslick argued that Schumann's claim that 'the aesthetics of one art is the same as that of another, and distinguishes itself from another only by medium' ignored the fact that the beauty of an art is inseparable from its specific techniques. He therefore maintained that in aesthetic investigations the subject of beauty and not the subject of feeling must be the main focus and that aesthetics must strive to employ the rigour of a natural science. (Hanslick, E. 1854) Stravinsky clearly is not alone in his search for objectivity.
According to Sir Percy Buck (Buck, P. 1944), we judge aesthetically only when we are interested in the way artists have objectified their feelings. Art is the presentation of an idea through a medium; we find a work of art beautiful if our reaction is related to the feeling of the creating artist – whereby we may ask ourselves if the feelings of the composer outweigh those of the performer.
‘Indignation’ is an interesting term; the artist who finds his greatest triumphs in sorrow, suffering, indignation and anger. A notion that ties in with the 'expressive poëtica’ of August Lammert Sötemann in which the expression of emotion is the essence (Sötemann, A.L. 1985). You can imagine the scenario where a listener is moved to tears by a performer, leaving us questioning if it is the performer conveying their emotions which struck a chord – accepting that the performer’s primary goal is interpretation. William Wordsworth expressed a similar view in his ‘Lyrical Ballads’ describing poetry as the culmination of a 'spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings', which culminates in an 'emotion recollected in tranquillity' (Wordsworth, W. 1798).
Returning to the musicologist point of view: Umberto Eco’s scrambled eggs revolve around the relativity of aesthetics (as described earlier): "the perception of beauty depends on the era and the culture." (Eco, U. 2004). The French philosopher Michel Foucault agrees that our actions are determined to a great extent by the cultural and historical context in which we live; the human being is caught up in this (Foucault, M. 1982).
A fact that we also find with Christopher Caudwell who notes that the aesthetic experience evolves through time. No generation is satisfied after the creations of its forefathers. Each generation designs other things at will that are clearly distinguished from the inherited traditions. Nevertheless, a new vision does not exclude the old. It is still perceived as beautiful, only that the qualities are eroded by the passage of time, the qualities are viewed through a lens or a bird's eye view. (Cauldwell, C. 1949)
In his article ‘The ‘Beautiful’ in Music Today’ Helmut Lachenmann points to a need for research into the music of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert, in order to show that the degree of individualisation, intensity and verisimilitude they achieve is inseparable from a process of wrestling with the aesthetic apparatus in the relevant historical and social context. (Lachenmann, H. 1980)
Entartete kunst and the use of art as a propaganda tool is a character sketch of the fact that the interpretation of beauty depends on prevailing conventions and in the case of entartete art, it is downright prescriptive.
Before 1917, in tsarist Russia, composition was mainly late romantic, think of Rachmaninov, Glazunov etc. Innovative figures stayed abroad for the most part (Stravinsky, Prokofiev). Initially the new socialist state welcomed experiments. Later, however, during Stalin's dictatorship, the creativity of artists was seriously restricted. They propagate mainly optimistic music that is easy on the ears, accessible to the common people. Tragedy or sadness are possible, but pessimism, subjectivism, vulgarity (of which Prokofiev was accused in his zeal) are out of the question. Western formalism, comparable to the entartete kunst in Nazi Germany, is dealt with harshly. Well-known composers such as Kabalevsky, Katchaturian, and the later Prokofiev and Shostakovich worked in this atmosphere. Only after the death of Stalin in 1953 there is a major thaw: new, or newly published works by Shostakovich become more important; the focus is more on the West.
Shostakovich was considered a political obstructionist, but was also the artistic showpiece of the Soviet authorities. The rather controversial book 'Testimony', written in 1979 by Solomon Volkov casts a stark light on his position under the Soviet regime. On the basis of many conversations with him, recorded by Volkov, Shostakovich reveals to be an embittered man, dismissive to Stalinism, communism and the Soviet system that he had to serve against his will. Art and the conditions it was supposed to fulfil were regulated. It is a system in which beauty was formally uniformed. This naturally begs the question of how we could accurately perform the music in the sense of ‘letting the music speak for itself’, or letting the composer speak.
In his 'Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man', the German poet Friedrich Schiller warns the artist that although he is a child of his time, he should refrain from being its pupil. The 'young friend of truth and beauty' is advised to live with his time, but not to be a product of it. (Schiller, F. 1793) In that respect, Schönberg speaks about expressing oneself, whereby that expression refers to entering into a relationship with the surroundings – a notion which can be performed by the performer as well as the composer.
In a sense these paragraphs concerning beliefs on aesthetics, the importance of context and the goal of conveying emotions are a reflection on the importance of the instrumentalist in the process of musical performance. Taruskin suggests that if a performer would not feel the urge to participate and in fact contribute to the music, he would not have chosen to become a performer in the first place. We dare to presume these ideals are shared between both parties – if we are to disregard Stravinsky’s opinion.
Fitch & Heyde point out a musical culture that has understood the performer’s role primarily as a mediator between the piece and the audience, subsequently losing sight of the performer’s potentially significant mediation between the composer and the piece. (Fitch, F. & Heyde, N. 2007)
Bourdieu sees works of art as the materialisation of cultural mechanisms (La distinction. Critique sociale du jugement, 1984). The artistic environment and the art that flourishes within it are shaped and supported by those privileged individuals who possess aesthetic aptitudes. In ‘Esquisse d'une théorie de la pratique, précédé de trois études d'ethnologie kabyle’ (1972) Bourdieu describes his theory of practice and states power has a crucial role to play in intricate social relationships created between performers and composers. (Bourdieu, P. 1972)
Up to this point we assumed the performer only comes into play after the composer delivers a finished product. However, as pointed out by Fitch & Heyde: “when the performer is brought into play early in the conception of the piece, the performer may take a vital, inventive stance in which ‘problems’ (musical ideas) are formulated and reformulated in tandem with their ‘solutions’. The composer-performer collaboration may thus become a site for the playing out of the dialogic aspects of artistic creation.” (Fitch, F. & Heyde, N. 2007)
Talking about his Sequenzas Luciano Berio said the following: “Composer pour un virtuose digne de ce nom n'est aujourd'hui valable que pour consacrer un accord particulier entre le compositeur et l'interprète et aussi comme témoignage d'un rapport humain.”