THE ‘ART NOUVEAU’ OF ORCHESTRAL
SOUND"
In early youth I was always struck with the sound of
the orchestra: especially its fiery, brazen horns which struck so romantic
a note, especially in Berlioz. There was always a feint frisson of excitement
because it was known that the horns, those most intractable of instruments,
were liable to split notes; this somehow added to the verve of the performances.
The intrepid players did not play for safety, they played for exhilaration
and Joie de vivre. It was all wonderfully exciting. I just longed to
play in a large orchestra, little knowing that a few years later, the
war being over, that is what in fact I should do. However, coming home
on leave from the army - probably early in 1946, before being demobilised,
I chanced to go to a concert in Manchester given by a visiting American
orchestra, on its first post-war tour of Britain. But something curious
struck me about it. I could not quite make out why it sounded so different
from the Hallé of pre-war years. Lively and energetic though
the American playing was, it all sounded rather slick, but at the same
time paradoxically lack-lustre too, especially the wind playing, and
certainly most of all the horn-playing.
What was different of course, was that in place of
the traditional ‘french horns’ of narrow bore, they had been replaced
by wide-bored instruments of German pattern, the so-called ‘double-horns’
- much safer to play - but far less poetic and lacking the romantic
character of the earlier instruments. Not only the horns, but the other
brass had changed over to larger-bored instruments; the ravishing sound
of the wooden flutes had been replaced by the steely-bright sound of
metal ones. The characteristic French bassoon was given over to those
of Heckel type. String players began to rely on metal as opposed to
gut strings. Within a comparatively short time there came about a virtual
sea-change in the sound of orchestras in this country; we copied the
German and American style. Now this is all very well for some music,
and with the technical perfection demanded by the modern recording industry,
players now play for safety and use the most up-to-date and reliable
instruments they can find, and who can blame them? Whereas at one time
a live performance was evanescent, disappearing for ever into thin air,
flaws and human failings soon forgotten, the modern recorded performance
exists into perpetuity, an ominous indictment of the players’ failings.
But, slick and polished and virtually technically flawless, though modern
orchestral playing, worldwide, has now become, there is often something
missing: a sense of poetry and humanity in many of the performances
one hears. Not only the modern instruments, but perhaps even more important
the style of performance by individual players. aided and abetted by
jet-setting conductors whose technical abilities may be excellent, but
who often lack imagination and those qualities of insight and interpretation
that make music sound human - even if at times there are technical flaws
and shortcomings.
Certainly the younger generation: Stravinsky, Shostakovich,
Prokofiev, Hindemith, Walton, Copland, Britten, and those who have arisen
since 1945 perhaps expect a more chromium-plated sound, but a vast amount
of music, not necessarily just that of earlier twentieth century composers
and their forebears, still cries out for a more human sound instead
of the ubiquitous ‘orchestral super-market’ we hear so predictably in
almost all the world’s concert halls, although the Vienna Philharmonic
has always preserved a unique sound of its own, mostly on account of
the use of instruments traditional to the Viennese: ‘Zuleger’ oboes,
‘Oehler’ clarinets and the particular characteristics of Viennese horn-playing.
It is not generally known, for example, that there
was at one time, to the connoisseur at least, a distinctive ‘Manchester’
tone of clarinet sound, as there was in parallel with it an influential
school of Lancashire oboe playing that originated with a group of wind
players in the Hallé Orchestra which was ultimately to gain the
upper hand in London and elsewhere in British orchestral playing. Of
course, everything depends on the quality of sound produced by individual
artists, but nowadays there is often a sameness about many players of
the younger generation. That they are invariably of astonishing technical
accomplishment is never in question but music making is not solely about
technical wizardry; it is concerned with imagination, individuality,
and above all humanity.
Stimulating as it is to visit the world’s great and
sophisticated cities, there is often a faint sense of ennui to discover
that the fashionable shops in the exclusive malls are much the same
everywhere. The world-wide brands of coffee-house, furniture, textiles
or food chains are ubiquitous, and the same snazzy model of car bought
so recently at that exclusive showroom in Hampstead can be seen - perhaps
to the mutual embarrassment of their drivers - on the streets of Munich
or Stockholm.
The world’s great orchestras, rather like the fine
cities they symbolise are much the same too. So that despite the personal
quirks and mannerisms of international jet-setting conductors, who insidiously
cajole or insist that the orchestras they visit interpret whatever it
is they are performing in the maestro’s own individual way, the resulting
sound tends to be pretty much the same whether it be in Chicago, Prague,
Paris, Tokyo or London.
The New Queen’s Hall Orchestra however, has cultivated
a sound of its own, recapturing the essence of a style we once cherished
and, which regrettably now seems to elude us. In place of the present-day
universal metal flute the earlier and more mellow wooden instrument
is used. The ‘Buffet’ bassoon, essentially of French tradition, also
regains that elegant sound rarely heard in today’s concert halls. But
it is the brass which has undergone the most drastic change in character
in the past half century or more. The horn in particular has endured
a sea-change. While it is true that the modern ‘double-horn’ is safer
for the player, its sound is a far cry from the ravishingly romantic
timbre of the classic ‘french’ horn of earlier times. A parallel might
fancifully be drawn between the one-time classic Hispano-Suiza racing
car of the early days of motoring (when indeed it must have been an
exciting and elegant pastime for rich young men), and a BMW saloon for
today’s tedious motorway journeys. The trumpets and trombones with their
wider bores are inclined to be overwhelming, lacking that bright, lithe
sound that was once so exciting; while the cornet, once a subtle and
contrastingly lyrical sound in the brass section of an orchestra has
all but disappeared completely, conductors not seeming to care whether
a composer’s original cornet parts are played on the instruments they
were intended to be. But there was a time when a pair of trumpets sounded
quite different from the antiphonal sound of the cornets answering them
— for example in Tschaikowsky’s "1812" overture. The timpani’s round
sonority is projected in the mellow sound of the traditional calf-skin
heads of the hand-tuned timpani (still it must be admitted an admirable
quality of modern timpani). However, it is in the overall sound and,
even more significantly, the style of performance that the New Queen’s
Hall Orchestra has evolved a unique purpose. The use of genuine older
instruments has been made possible by enthusiastic individual members
seeking out such rarities, and studying the technique of playing them
in a style which is appropriate.
© Arthur Butterworth