THE CRITICS’ PRIME CONCERN ----
Arthur Butterworth April 2004
It is often claimed by celebrated concert
artists that they never read reviews
of performances; claiming that they
neither care one way or the other what
other people think of them. They probably
take to heart Kipling’s excellent advice
in his well-known poem "If":
"If you can meet with Triumph
and Disaster
and treat those two impostors
just the same"
This certainly seems to be a good philosophical
attitude towards criticism, although
I suspect most concert artists, even
the ones who claim never to read concert
reviews, do in fact take a great deal
of notice of what other people think
of their performances.
While art and book critics have a clear-cut
objective: to write what they think
of a new book or new painting, the music
critic has two things to consider. Consideration
of an established work in the repertoire,
such as a Beethoven symphony, a Mozart
concerto or a Verdi opera requires little
if anything in the way of comment on
the work itself since such pieces are
so well-known and have long since been
accorded a place of universal acclaim
that everyone knows about them anyway.
However, the way in which these long-acknowledged
masterpieces are recreated - their live
performance - is indeed of concern to
the critic so that his commentary is
likely to be almost solely concerned
with this, although he might make some
passing observation as whether the work
itself still appeals; such as describing
Berlioz’s "Symphonie Fantastique as
"this old war-horse". Even the most
firmly-established and popular masterpiece,
however, depends for its impact on the
listener on the way it is brought to
life by the performer. In this way music,
opera or drama, differ from a painting,
poetry or a novel. So it is the way
how it is performed than what.
However, the first performance of a
completely new piece of music, or a
work that is new to the critic’s own
experience, calls for more comment than
the way it is performed since it is
not easy to assess how effective the
quality of performance has been until
the work itself has been unfolded in
its entirety. Thus critics often use
the phrase: .. . "it seemed to be played
efficiently" ... or:... "the performers
do not appear to have unravelled the
new work’s secret yet"... Performers
of new works might thus feel a bit side-lined
when reading a critique which hardly
mentions their contribution at all but
concentrates primarily on assessing
what the composer has created. In this
case what is performed is more important
than how.
Are critics necessary? It is often
said that critics are those who themselves
have failed at the task of what they
are criticising in others. This does
at times sound like sour grapes but
it is to miss the purpose of criticism
as a pertinent part of artistic, or
indeed any other kind of communication.
Without critics the creative artist,
the performing artist or any other kind
of communicator has no means of knowing
whether his intended message is being
understood by those to whom it is addressed:
the reader of the book, the viewer of
the painting, the listener to the music,
or indeed the voter choosing the candidate
after reading the manifesto.
The critique is a way of holding a
mirror up to our performance, in whatever
sense one means by the word "performance".
How does it come over to others? Without
criticism we should never know. It is
sometime thought that criticism is inevitably
a hostile thing; but this is not so.
Constructive and appreciative criticism
is no less to be met with than its opposite,
and concert artists are then very ready
indeed to quote in their marketing brochures,
all the nice things that have been said
about them.
Professional artists have long realised,
whether they like it or not, that critical
assessment is part of life. Amateurs
however might once have been rather
patronised by the critical fraternity,
if indeed the critics have been bothered
to notice them at all. It is all very
well and good that young children, or
even modest adult performance in some
local situation, should be encouraged
and even given some excuse when performance
obviously does not aspire to great accomplishment.
Such situations are generally obvious
to everyone concerned. However, in recent
times even amateur effort sets out to
impress the public by its endeavour.
Works of challenging technical requirements
are attempted, and the public is asked
to pay for a seat just in the same way,
and often just as expensively, as for
a professional presentation of the same
thing. Local operatic societies and
suchlike bodies should then expect to
have their public performances assessed
with no less critical rigour than the
professionals would expect. The not-infrequently
heard cry... "What a nasty critic Mr
XYZ was in the paper last week! does
he not realise we are only amateurs?"
This is a childish, pathetic, cry-baby
attitude.
With so much expertise in every walk
of life, amateurism with
its excuses for indifferent public presentation
is no longer viable, nor should it be,
unless it is offered free and maybe
for a modest circle of admiring friends.
The patronising "write up" in the local
paper after the annual light opera in
the village hall, when every one is
praised and no fault can be found convinces
no one; it merely serves to feed the
ego of self-preening performers who
have probably displayed only the most
rudimentary abilities. On the contrary,
the honest critical assessment of amateur
endeavour which compares amateurism
with professional ability is an enormous
tribute to the amateur; it considers
him worthy of comparison and thus takes
it seriously rather than blandly patronising
something that would otherwise tacitly
be regarded as poor or insignificant,
only worth a benign childish ‘pat on
the back’ for trying.
Many distinguished practitioners of
the art of criticism have followed their
calling from the outset, never having
aspired themselves to be performers
at all, but have discovered that analytical
turn of mind which is capable of impartial
assessment of what they read, observe
or hear. Their interest lies in comparing
one experience with another, of learning
to evaluate by constant practise in
the patient business of considering
all the differing experiences they pursue;
it is indeed a very necessary and complementary
art to that of the composer or performer.
Though they may often resent critical
opinion, the creative artist and the
performer cannot properly exist without
their critics, for to be ignored by
them is the worst fate of all; it signifies
a complete indifference and consigned
to being a nonentity.
