There’s nothing like a good bit of civil disorder to fix the celebrity
– or notoriety – of a piece of music. The French seem particularly
fond of a good riot in the name of Art. These days, one finds
oneself rather wishing that
any Classical music event could
cause that kind of reaction. Take just three of many such happenings
from the early decades of the last Century;
The Rite of Spring
– premiered 29 May 1913 at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées,
now universally accepted as one of the most important pieces of
music of the 20
th Century. Walton’s
Façade –
first public performance 12 June 1923 at the Aeolian Hall prompting
the famous review “Drivel they paid to hear” now accepted as one
of the composer’s most popular works and Antheil’s
Ballet Méchanique
premiered at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées again in June
1926. This latter work has never had the chance to be judged or
reassessed until now because in the original form recorded here
it lay unperformed for sixty-two years. So regardless of any technical
merits, this disc is a hugely important document of one of those
fabled pieces of music that inhabits the history books but not
the concert halls or recording studios. Great credit to Nimbus
then for yet another valuable excavation from the vaults of the
MusicMasters back catalogue to restore this 1990 recording.
At last you can make up your own mind about what the fuss was
all about and whether this work deserves to takes its place in
the standard repertoire in the way that both
The Rite and
Façade have albeit occupying very different ends of the
musical spectrum. The added value of this CD is that it recreates
the programme of the concert at the Carnegie Hall on 10 April
1927. The
Ballet Méchanique captured all the headlines
but the programme – which with the exception of the
A Jazz
Symphony – were not premieres – was meant as a sample of Antheil’s
work to date and mark his triumphal return to America after some
times spent in Europe as the daring devilish darling of the avant-garde.
The really excellent and extended liner by conductor Maurice Peress
outlines the origins and development of all the works. The excellence
extends to the recording which for all the works is quite close
and relatively dry but excitingly powerful and detailed. These
qualities are particularly valuable in a work of such heavy and
thick textures as the
Ballet Méchanique but all of the
music benefits from such a revealing approach. And revelatory
is the only term which one could apply to the performances from
all the artists involved. Headline plaudits of course will go
to Maurice Peress and his New Palais Royale Orchestra and Percussion
Ensemble for their skill at making something coherent out of the
potential chaos of the big works. Enough to say that all the playing
by all the ensembles and soloists on this disc is first class
and more importantly all fully enter into the rough and tumble
spirit of the iconoclastic Antheil. The disc opens with
A Jazz
Symphony. Interestingly, this was written in 1925 for the
follow-up concert by Paul Whiteman and his Orchestra to the “First
Experiment in Modern Music” concert that spawned
Rhapsody in
Blue. For some unknown reason the Antheil symphony, although
written in time, was shelved until the 1927 Carnegie Hall Concert.
By then it was entrusted to W.C. Handy and his ‘All Negro’ orchestra
with the composer as soloist. Handy felt it was beyond him and
handed the baton to Alfie Ross, the associate conductor of the
Harlem Symphony. Twenty-five, yes twenty-five, rehearsals later
the piece received an ovation – a fact often forgotten in all
the hooplah regarding the
Ballet Méchanique. Jazz aficionados
will always pour scorn on the likes of Gershwin’s
Rhapsody
as not ‘true jazz’. That may be so, but the sincerity in the
attempt to bridge the gap between the improvised and the concert
hall is never in doubt. Gershwin took Jazz seriously. With Antheil
I’m not so sure. For all its brilliance this ‘symphony’ – which
it isn’t if we are being pedantic – seems like an extended parody.
It takes the gestures and effects of 1920s jazz and bundles them
together in a brilliant but superficial mélange. Even the piano’s
opening gesture after the manic rhumba of the orchestra seems
to spoof the earlier work. Without a doubt it’s all good fun and
entertaining – and brilliantly played here from raspberrying trombones
to leary saxophones. The main problem I have with the piece as
a work is that it sounds like a frenzied parody. I’m not sure
Antheil
likes jazz. It strikes me that there are a whole
raft of jazz-influenced works from the 1920s that don’t try so
hard to be
bad. Because, from the ameliorating distance
of eighty or so years, what once was bad now seems faintly naughty
at best. Never mind, it is a delight to have the original work
restored to the recorded repertoire and in as confident a performance
as this. I have to say I do rather like the passage at around
7:25 when a blowsy trumpet solo is accompanied by a very
Rite-like
nervous oom-pah accompaniment – now that
is subversive.
The filling to this concert’s sandwich is provided by the 1923
Second Sonata for Violin, Piano and Drum and the 1924
String
Quartet No.1. The inclusion of the drum in the sonata is rather
entertaining – at the first performance of the work this part
was played by the poet Ezra Pound – a close friend of Antheil
– whose mistress Olga Rudge played the violin part. Having, in
my one and only professional appearance as a percussionist managed
to miss the triangle during the performance of the most famous
Dvorak
Slavonic Dance I can say this is no easy matter
but my guess is Pound was a better poet than percussionist hence
the simplicity of the part allotted. Again the performers here
attack the work with gleeful ferocity in all its eight minute
brevity and it is very hard not to feel that shock and outrage
were the two responses Antheil most eagerly sought. Of course
Jazz in the 1920s meant something a lot closer to Ragtime and
syncopation than the added note harmony and super-complex rhythms
that were to come within twenty or thirty years. For all its noise
and clamour this is not complex music – just rowdy and attention-seeking.
Without greater familiarity it is hard to sense any underlying
structure, again the moment seems more important than the more
long-term scheme – I might well be wrong – I just can’t hear it.
The
String Quartet No.1 is another single movement work.
I rather like the description quoted in the liner to Mary Louise
Curtis Bok who founded the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia from
Antheil himself. He wrote; “... it sounds exactly like a third
rate string orchestra in Budapest trying to harmonize kind of
mongrel Hungarian themes ...” And that’s the composer! This is
the most abstracted work here, the least sensationalist. Again
played with real flair and skill. I can’t say I liked it much
as a piece but conversely I cannot imagine it receiving a more
committed performance. As before the recording allows all the
detail to register with excellent clarity and even in the most
demanding passages the Mendelssohn Quartet play with tonal beauty
and easy technique.
But all this acts as a prelude to the main event, the work that
all the fuss was about; the
Ballet Méchanique heard here
in its original scoring including pianola, multiple xylophonists,
sirens, airplane propellers and eleven pitched electric bells.
Has it been worth the wait, is it such a radical piece after all?
Well yes and no – come on now the fence is much too comfortable
a place to be sitting to leave it just yet. The really radical
element is the use of the non-musical ‘instruments’ pre-echoing
as it does the experiments with musique concrète in the 1950s.
Indeed, you could go further and speculate that the structural
use of silence presages John Cage. I love the idea that at the
first performance the ‘propellers’ – which as Peress in the note
drily notes were no more than big fans - blew into the audience
causing extra mayhem – to which the public responded by making
their own paper planes out of the programmes. Quite what the propellers
were meant to add texturally to the proceedings I don’t know –
even though they are allotted three specific pitches; small wooden,
large wooden and metal. I wonder whether the effect is more gestural
or theatrical. On this recording both the bells and the propellers
are samples that are mixed into the resultant performance. Clearly
this represents very accurately the exact instruction given in
the score. But so ‘polite’ and ‘correct’ are the appearance of
these by definition disruptive elements that I wonder if it is
really what Antheil was after. From Peress’ description
of the technical hurdles the composer faced it is clear that he
was testing the technical boundaries of music. Originally he wanted
sixteen pianos connected to a single set of pianola rolls with
the pianola playing a part impossible for any human virtuoso to
achieve. This is exactly what Conlon Nancarrow was to write for
later. Today, the computer synchronisation of multiple parts would
be a breeze. Antheil was tilting at windmills. The key to the
‘riot’ I’m sure is that Antheil’s concert manager - one Donald
Friede – was a Broadway producer amongst other things. Without
a doubt he would have subscribed to the “no publicity is bad publicity”
adage – hence giving the press in the days before the concert
headlines such as “
Ballet Méchanique to din ears of New
York – Makes Boiler Factory Seem as Quiet as Rural Churchyard”.
I think that’s called sowing the wind ...! Certainly the abiding
impression of the work is one of din. Yet in the midst of all
the noise you can hear Antheil making a real effort at producing
music – yes, music – that is original and striking and quite without
precedent. At the time the music of Charles Ives was quite unknown
and it is Antheil who throws into a big melting pot various music
gestures and ideas (albeit only partially digested or even conceived)
that other composers would pursue later. The mechanistic quality
is strangely alienating and disturbing. I would point readers
towards two excerpts on YouTube of the original Fernand Leger
film entitled
Ballet Méchanique for which the original
music was conceived. Set against the strangely abstract disorientating
images the music provides a compelling heart-beat for the film-maker’s
vision. Again as Peress writes it creates a fusion of many of
the artistic obsessions of the age; rag-time, futurism, the machine
age to name but three. The performance, as far as I can judge
is extraordinary – the multiple xylophonists – six – play with
a unanimity that verges on the disconcertingly robotic. Likewise
the phalanx of six pianists flanking the world’s “only professional
concert pianolist” Rex Lawson. The greatest tribute one can pay
to the ‘live’ pianists is it’s all but impossible to hear where
the pianola ends and they begin – a kind of musical AI. Without
a doubt this is music where a gauntlet has been thrown down. Returning
to my riots – how curious that of the three one has become a timeless
towering masterpiece, one an affectionate parody of a bygone age
and one – the most superficially radical of the lot – is the one
that wears its age with least grace. How often a work of art that
most closely reflects the age of its creation becomes bound to
that age and thereby dates. The composer Virgil Thomson was an
oft-times acid-tongued critic (he wrote of Sibelius’s
Symphony
No.2 in 1940 that it was; “vulgar, self-indulgent and provincial
beyond all description”.) however in 1925 he wrote the following
appraisal of Antheil; “... for all his facility and ambition there
was no power of growth ... the
Ballet Méchanique written
before he was twenty-five, remains his most original piece”. Possibly
harsh but probably true.
A must-hear disc for anyone with any kind of passing interest
in the development of 20
th Century music – decide for
yourself if it represents prophetic music or a blind alley. For
myself, I’m glad to be able to hear all of this music for myself
in such fine performances. More discs from MusicMasters please
Nimbus.
Nick Barnard
See also reviews by Bob
Briggs and Rob
Barnett