Percival Hodgson, writer
and violin theoretician, once locked
Albert Sammons in a darkened room in
the 1930s and took multiple photographs
as he played his violin with an illuminated
bow. The photographic results were called
cyclographs and resembled multi dimensional
chalk marks on a black background that
traced the volatile motion of the bow
in motion. They were used to support
Hodgson’s belief in the essential curvature
of bowing and were the culmination of
years of widespread research into the
physiological intricacies of bowing.
I was reminded of Hodgson’s
experimentation when looking at the
tempo fluctuation graphs printed as
an appendix in David Milsom’s formidably
well-argued text. The graph measures
beat numbers and duration and the effect
is one of looking at a graph of the
retail price index. These specifics,
used as supporting evidence, are an
indication of the techniques now available
to analyse recordings. We are of course
fortunate to possess recordings made
by Joachim and Sarasate but can we rely
on them as definitive musical statements
and to what extent are they records,
in both senses, of performance style
and in what ways, if any, are they compromised
by the technical frailties of the performers
or by the inherent limitations of the
recording medium. These are questions
at the core of Milsom’s study as is
the comparison or disjunction between
nineteenth century musical treatises
– books of instruction – and the early
recordings that may reflect or refute
them. His intention is to make contemporary
players aware of the musico-aesthetic
and philosophical complexities underlying
performances of nineteenth century violin
playing – to bridge the gulf that seems
to separate us from them.
Milsom’s modus operandi
is to relate these treatises specifically
to the surviving discs. He analyses
texts in relation to phrasing, portamento,
vibrato, rhythm and tempo and then correlates
them with examples of early performers
on record, not by any means exclusively
violinists. The texts are by Auer, Baillot,
de Beriot and David and are familiar
and standard ones. With regard to the
recordings, as Milsom does admit, reliance
cannot be absolute. The vagaries involved
in their production (relating frequently
to pitching) can distort their accuracy.
We know that alternating current problems
were endemic even as late as the 1940s
in Britain. To an extent some of Milsom’s
methodology is reminiscent of Robert
Philip’s Early Recordings and musical
style which analysed aspects of
performance practice though not with
as much specificity with regard to treatises
and tracts or indeed to the bar by bar
concentration Milsom furnishes.
Though his focus is
on the violin he does analyse vocal
performances in much the same way, noting
by analogue the frequently cited relation
of the violin to the human voice ("Sing
on the violin"). My own view is
that this is a weakness and diffuses
focus as does the similar analysis of
spoken recordings no matter that the
conclusions reached are broadly similar
and in alignment with those drawn from
violin recordings. And the conclusions?
Firstly that there were indeed definable
distinctions between the German and
the Franco-Belgian school of violin
playing. That the belief that the German
school was the more intellectualised
and the French-Belgian the more adventurous
in vibrato usage, the former generally
more fluctuating in tempo, the latter
more uniform, is supported by the recordings.
Clearly there are areas of subjectivity
involved in a study of this kind but
it’s noticeable how cogently presented
are Milsom’s arguments though some of
them are couched in a familiarly defensive
academic manner. Above all, perhaps,
one can conclude that performers of
this period saw their music making as
all embracing, that they drew upon a
large reservoir of personal and intellectual
experience but specifically that they
tended to ascribe to themselves a more
active role in performance than is now
commonly the norm. They tended to exaggerate
the expressive potential in the music
but also to inhabit what Milsom defines
as an "informal" approach
to music making; more free and adaptational
than is to be found in a culture that
concentrates on texts and editions quite
as much as fluidity of tempo relationships
and the like.
That said there are
some limitations here. One would need
to pursue his contention that Kreisler’s
influence was "not as exceptional
as one might imagine" in relation
to vibrato. Citing Kreisler’s "difference"
and "important influence"
whilst proposing Hubay and Sarasate
as containing elements of modern vibrato
rather flies in the face not simply
of the early recorded evidence of Kreisler’s
own early 1904 G & Ts but of the
testimony of two generations of fiddlers.
Lionel Tertis admitted he’d remodelled
his vibrato usage after hearing Kreisler
and his experience was almost commonplace.
The CD contains extracts
of performances cited in the text as
well as examples of Milsom’s own violin
playing, applying some of the nineteenth
century precepts to a performance of
the first movement of Brahms’ Sonata
Op 100 and playing part of Fauré’s
First Sonata. It seems unfortunate therefore,
in light of the fact that the latter
sonata was written for Paul Viardot
that Milsom believes he made only one
recording. He actually recorded fifteen
sides and given Flesch’s sour verdict
on him as a salon player it might have
been useful for Milsom to have lent
an ear, as well as to d’Ambrosio and
some of the less well-known violinists.
They were equally reflective of currents
in performance practice as their more
elevated colleagues.
His listening research
has been derived from CD transfers from
such companies as Biddulph, Symposium
and Pearl and the discography he appends
is as a result flawed. He cites CD release
numbers or, bizarrely, National Sound
Archive reference numbers of items held
by them. In a scholarly book of this
kind all relevant original 78 issue
numbers should be cited. In the circumstances
the text references to Heifetz (b 1901)
may be thought somewhat less than directly
relevant and citing Stern’s 1962 Barber
Concerto in a footnote seems a little
pedantic. More worryingly whilst I wonder
about the inclusion of vocal performances
at all I find that citing and analysing
the records of the "last Castrato"
the Vatican based Moreschi is an act
of chronological piety too far. He may
well have been born in the right period
but his was so anomalous a voice, so
obviously a one off (at least in recorded
history) that Milsom has to struggle
far too hard to correlate his wavery
records to the main body of his arguments.
There are so many important violinists
from that period missing that his inclusion
seems unfortunate.
Milsom has been relatively
well served by Ashgate when it comes
to graphs, tabulation and musical examples,
of which there are a number. He has
been rather less well served when it
comes to the text. Rogue apostrophes
and capitals abound, as do misplaced
commas. If the English translation of
Carl Flesch’s two volume ‘The Art of
Violin Playing’ really renders one of
his sentences as "recourse to articulation
which, furthermore, possibilitates the
stressing of melodically or harmonically
significant notes" then it’s time
for a re-write. In essence I’m suggesting
that Milsom could have locked his focus
still further. If analogues to violin
performance were to be sought then cellists
were the obvious target; singers and
actors may seem to generate a more panoramic
sweep of widespread practices but in
truth Milsom’s text becomes unnecessarily
cumbersome when including them.
The value of such a
work lies in his balancing of text and
performance; seldom judgmental when
analysing the recordings he instead
applies a scholar-performer’s eye and
ear to matters of treatise and application
of precept. His conclusions support
the generalised historical view though
in far greater practical detail than
has ever before been accumulated. And
Milsom’s own performances on the enclosed
disc suggest an informed awareness of
performance practice should not be dependent
on gestural portamenti but should instead
additionally embrace the complex issues
of rhythm, vibrato and phrasing that
his book so eloquently explores.
Jonathan Woolf
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