A
Geometer of Sound Crystals is a complex
book, as unusual as its title; one which will
be read, and used, differently by each of
its readers. It is a source book about a composer/musicologist
who spent the greater part of his professional
life in Moscow, of whom Gerard McBurney wrote
"Gradually I began to form some impression
of how important this Jewish Romanian pupil
of Webern was in the hidden musical life of
Moscow, our 'real life' as Sofia Gubaidulina
has called it".
It is
also a very personal memoire of an extraordinary
and idiosyncratic musician and teacher by
a younger composer and music theorist, Dmitri
Smirnov. Phillipp Moiseyevich Herschkowitz,
with whom Smirnov and his composer wife Elena
Firsova built a close relationship during
the years before they brought their family
out of the Soviet Republic to England, had
studied with both Berg and Webern. Smirnov's
account centres upon the record of a series
of lessons and conversations with Herschkowitz,
interrupted for ten years because of the Smirnovs'
lack of money; subsequently resumed gratis
"as I did not pay Webern; I want to give
his lessons back".
Six
early lessons, begun in 1970, were highly
didactic analyses of Beethoven, especially
his piano sonatas, and other Great Masters;
Phillipp Moiseyevich Herschkowitz having made
clear that he did not teach composition. These
are dense, and fully illustrated dissections
of individual movements which constitute the
core of the book, and reflect what Herschkowitz
might best wish to be remembered for. Smirnov
makes the cogent point that in Britain "the
teaching of musical form and analysis is "at
a very superficial or amateurish level - -
basic terms of music, such as "period", "sentence"
or "theme" are practically eliminated - -
".
These
lessons and conversations, meticulously summarised
and recalled in detail by Smirnov, need the
close attention of a musicologist, ideally
a Beethoven specialist, to do them justice,
and they are clearly deserving of such attention*.
For
the ordinary untrained reader, a huge stumbling
block to following the arguments into the
experience of listening to the music is that
most of us lack perfect pitch, or even a capacity
to appreciate key relationships aurally to
ponder, for example, why a passage comes in
the subdominant instead of the mediant - -
- . Many of the problems which exercise Herschkowitz
have completely passed me by when enjoying
playing and listening to Beethoven's music,
but of those which he addressed had also puzzled
me, and his solution to it will give readers
the flavour of his didactic approach. I too
had often wondered why Beethoven in his Seventh
Symphony repeats the Trio and Scherzo twice
each without any change? (And wished he hadn't!)
Herschkowitz explains that if a question is
about an abnormality "it is neceesary to
search for another abnormality. There is a
'mistake' in the Scherzo itself - in bar 44
a cadence on the dominant of C major instead
of F major. After composing a 'wrong' Scherzo
Beethoven had to repeat it again and again:
Trio then Scherzo, and then Trio, and then
Scherzo again- pretending as if he doesn't
know what to do next."
Paradox
features often in Herschkowitz's pronouncements
and in ordinary conversation, and is a strand
which holds the attention of the ordinary
reader, as is also his 'wicked sense of humour',
which enlivens many a discussion with outrageous
and memorable sallies of wit. Unfortunately,
he was not equally receptive to humour from
others, and Smirnov recounts how his riposte
"Don't you think that perhaps you value
yourself too high?" to Herschkowitz's
claim that "my idea about the third movement
of Mahler's First Symphony is even more genius
than the symphony itself" caused a resentment
that festered until after the last meeting
between them.
Herschkowitz's
chief heroes were Beethoven and Webern, and
he can be dismissive of many a revered composer
of the recognised canon of the Great. For
example, he removed Brahms, Haydn and Berg
from his list of Masters and explains why,
not fully convincing his pupil and author
of this memoir, Dimitri Smirnov. In a discussion
of bad music by his greatest classical hero,
he includes the Diabelli Variations - "if
works are bad, it is wrong to play them."
Of the symphonies, Herschkowitz told Smirnov
"we have to speak of only six", in
"macro cycles 3, 4, 5 and 6, 7, 8".
Smirnov demurred that he still likes Nos 1
& 9. (It's unclear what either of them
had against No.2?) He answered "Dima, you
are a good fellow, but you have one fault
- - you live too happily"! Likewise, Webern's
works without opus numbers "found somewhere
in a loft - why do they play them?!!!
Clearly
Herschkowitz would have had no empathy for
today's dedication to ever more complete integrales,
including recordings of preparatory versions
of establshed masterworks. Homework was set
and led on to further topics, and the lessons
and conversations which took place in the
Smirnov/Firsova home and in Herschovitz's
are described in full remembered detail, augmented
posthumously with extracts from the teacher's
published writings (mostly in Russian).
Smirnov's
account is intertwined with details from their
personal lives which impinged upon the relationship.
Smirnov acquired scores for Herschkowitz,
who was not renowned for returning loans promtly,
and helped him in the bizarre episode of the
demise of Herschovitz's cat's, which left
him distraught. Smirnov was enlisted for the
funeral and dug the grave for his teacher/friend
in frozen soil! We learn about the births
of Dimitri & Elena's children, Philip
and Alissa Firsova, about their first visit
to London to be featured at the Almeida Festival
(of which I was a habituee, and where I first
become aware of these gifted composers who
in due course settled amongst us). Herschkowitz's
relative disinterest in their offspring was
explained when he declared that he would not
be able to visit them again for several years
because of 'baby phobia'! Smirnov candidly
prints a harsh response in 1986 to his own
cantata, criticised for the similarly slow
tempi throughout and slavish dependence upon
the text, which was 'processed with the
sand paper of your singer's high register'.
The underlying theme was a warning to distrust
one's 'talent', a pejorative word in Herschkowitz's
critical vocabulary.
So,
it is a book which is fascinating on various
levels, and of enduring value for making available
in English the flavour of the sayings and
writings of this substantial and unique figure,
who spent the central part of his professional
life (1940-87) in Moscow, suffering the privations
of the time. He felt that his own music until
played 'did not exist'. In Smirnov's view
Herschkowitz is a significant, largely unpublished
and unplayed composer, but his legacy is more
likely to command attention in his voluminous
theoretical writings.
Smirnov
analyses several of Herschkowitz's compositions
and hopes they will eventually find 'dedicated
performers and appreciative listeners'.
The chances that this may happen are perhaps
greater now than ever before, with record
companies trawling libraries in search of
novelties for premiere recordings - a tendency
that Herschkowitz, with his harsh views on
music unworthy to be played, might himself
deplore!
A
Geometer of Sound Crystals is a well-produced
academic publication, with lavish provision
of musical examples and a comprehensive index
(there are some page 'slippages' and photos
promised in the preface do not appear). The
appendix lists Herschkowitz's works and writings,
with bibliography, biographical chronology
and details of three rare performances of
his compositions.
Peter Grahame
Woolf