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EW YORK has heard the last of Stravinsky, propria persona, for that provocative visitor is appearing as guest conductor and pianist out where the West begins, but Prince Igor has left behind him plenty of matter for debate. There is, for example, his piano concerto, introduced under auspices of Mr. Mengelberg and the Philharmonic Orchestra. At a first hearing, the first movement seemed to be a free fantasia on a funeral march; the second, a conventional slow movement somewhat out of focus; the third, a medley in which "The Star Spangled Banner" was waved briefly. Yet a second hearing hinted at something more important, for through the amusing surface sounds of the work came a voice that sounded like Stravinsky. Possibly this concerto could be played every night for a week over the radio for the benefit of the critically disposed, for it cannot be digested at one meal. The lay knob-twister, however, who would wonder at the strange quality of the transmission.

Henry Cowell who introduced “tone clusters” to New York last season has returned, bearing thunder sticks, which, according to W. J. Henderson, sound "like a double bass mourning for its first born," made their debut at one of the musicales of the International Composers' Guild. Mr. Cowell and two assistants twirled these musical kites while a small orchestra, conducted by the latest guest conductor, Vladimir Shavitch, performed more conventional matter by Mr. Cowell. The end of Mr. Cowell′s stick declined to be party to the affair, and flew off the handle, seeking refuge in the general direction of Lawrence Gilman. Now, if Mr. Cowell were to begin twirling pianos he probably could be certain of a sold-out house.

Suggestion to live insurance company: Why not sell accident insurance with concert tickets?

Fritz Kreisler

Fritz Kreisler, whose violin mastery remains undisputed, must be set down as a box-office miracle man. His first recital this season was sold out before any announcement of it was made.

The date was known only to Mr. Kreisler, his manager and the Carnegie Hall box-office. Yet all of the tickets were sold to enterprising persons—some 3,000 of them—who inquired of the inimitable Heck Brothers of Carnegie Hall when Mr. Kreisler would appear. Kreisler, by the way, is probably the only artist in the world who can sell out concert after concert without announcing in advance his program.

Mme. Leginska, the evanescent pianist, has described her disappearance as a lapse of memory, and perhaps she who lapse last lapse best, for Leginska is as noted now as Mr. and Mrs. Jack Dempsey. The facts in the case probably never will be established, and there are those who hint that the Madame′s loss of memory was a shrewd bit of publicity. ′Tis said that she thought of some such idea shortly after her second debut. (This is accurate verbiage. The lady had a first debut under her given name and another under her taken name.) She was dissuaded then, but this time—?

It is intimated also that the Madame really gave way to that dread of reviewers which now and then obsesses every artist. According to this story, she feared the strictures of a prominent critic who had flayed her when he was writing reviews in another city and who had had harsh words for her conducting. Her perturbation, it is assumed, caused the nervous flurry which started her on her travels. The finale to the story would have pleased O. Henry, for the much feared critic was not in Carnegie Hall on the night of the concert. He was at home, stricken, we are told, with indigestion.

To the simile collection we must add a new one: “As friendless as a German tenor at the Metropolitan Opera House.” The two young men who have sung Wagnerian tenor roles before the Golden Horse Shoe this season have absorbed the most noteworthy pomade of dispraise which our critics have prepared in many moons. Apparently the worst thing that can be said about a German tenor is that he sings like a German tenor.

The best German tenor in the Metropolitan company is the ever admirable Edward Johnson, who is also the best French tenor, and, in many respects, the best Italian tenor. “Eddie” was famous in Italy for his performances in “Lohengrin,” “Die Meistersinger,” “Tristan und Isolde” and “Parsifal,” but New York has not heard him in these operas. Johnson has sung Wagnerian roles in Italian only and polyglot performances are taboo at the Metropolitan, although unintentionally polyglot versions occasionally are heard. Probably the task of restudying the roles in German appalls the gifted tenor. And well it might!—

Pop: A man who thinks he can make it in a par. Johnny: What is an optimist, pop?