by EDWARD TATNALL CANBY
Kipnis I and II -- The Art of Alexander Kipnis, Album 2.
Seraphim 60124 mono $2.98.
The elder Kipnis, now almost eighty, was the finest basso of the operatic 1930s on records--his career had begun before World War I in Germany and in the period between the wars he came to America as a citizen and became one of the "Met" regulars. It is no exaggeration to say that there has been no such voice since-not that combination of gorgeous bass-baritone sound (he was born Russian) and intelligent, musical understanding. He was superb in opera, in any style that demanded a big bass, but he was equally fine in solo songs, the German Lied. Side 1 of this second Kipnis reissue features him in opera-Faust, Don Carlo, and Parsifal-plus a couple of Russian folk songs; side 2 is devoted to Brahms Lieder, with that ubiquitous accompanist, Gerald Moore, whose piano recordings are still coming out today.
The recordings are all electric, of that early sort with the closet-like acoustics, the soloist miked ultra-close, the orchestra, or piano, in the background. Enough highs to make the words clear, and a curiously effective kind of recording distortion that seems, if anything, to enhance the complex coloration of the big voice.
The brilliance of such a huge basso, after all, is made up of acoustic intermodulations, and a bit of extra IM added by the machinery only intensifies the effect! A curiosity of a musical nature here: when the great German conductor Karl Muck flatly refused to make the necessary 78-rpm side breaks in the recording of the Parsifal Good Friday Music with Kipnis, Wagner's own son, Siegfried Wagner, took over and it is he who conducts the music on this band.
The Brahms on Side 2 is superbly sung ( though we could wish for a more audible Gerald Moore) but the voice is somewhat more distorted and bass-y than in the operatic recordings on side 1.
Performances: A, Sound: C+
The Harmonious Blacksmith (A Collection of Harpsichord Encores). Igor Kipnis. Columbia MS 7326 stereo $5.98.
Mozart: Concerto in E Flat, K. 271 (Jeune homme"). Haydn: Concerto in D, Op. 21. Igor Kipnis, harpsichord; London Strings, Marriner. Columbia MS 7253 stereo $5.98.
The younger Kipnis has moved a world away from the elder. The senior Kipnis sang opera and song from the Romantic 19th century onwards; the younger plays harpsichord from the 18th century back.
His new "encore" record features harpsichord favorites and I suppose is the harpsichord equivalent of a pop recordfew listeners, however, will know that much about harpsichord repertory! Even "Greensleeves" appears here in a circumspect Elizabethan setting by the well known Anon. Composers range from Byrd and Bull through Rameau, Couperin, D. Scarlatti, two Bachs, Handel, Mozart, and even Beethoven, with an unlikely Albeniz, an earlier composer, as the most curious. For those who do know harpsichord music the selections will be largely familiar.
The Kipnis style is a curious mixture of the old fashioned and the ultra-up-to-date. Old fashioned in that, like Landowska, he tends towards a great deal of rubato, irregularities of time in the interest of expression. Up-to-date in that his ornaments are profuse and expertly done and in many of the dance-movement repeats he adds the proper extra improvised decorations, beyond the written notes. Sometimes the rubato is ( for this ear) a bit too nervous; a steadier pulse would help in many works. But the brilliance is there, in phrasing, registration, and finger dexterity. A lively collection.
What a tremendous Mozart concerto is this relatively early K. 271 in E flat-one of the great works! It is to Igor Kipnis' credit that the thought came to me during his performance on the harpsichord of music that is normally familiar in the piano format. He does a splendid job, for Mozart's music is already highly pianistic though in fact is was played in both ways, on the well developed harpsichord and on the relatively primitive piano of the time.
I was suddenly reminded of a similar transition today in another area, from vacuum tubes to solid state. The analogy is exact. The piano, as it slowly developed, took over very gradually from the highly perfected harpsichord, the style of music changing at the same time. As solid-state components became more sophisticated they, too, took over gradually from the highly developed vacuum tube, and circuitry changed at the same time towards solid-state values. Mozart's concerto, so to speak, came in the early transistor era when tubes, though rapidly declining, still ruled as the more reliable equipment.
The Haydn concerto was even more certainly a harpsichord piece since Haydn, an older man, turned later to the new piano. But the Haydn style is also very pianistic and not easy to put over in harpsichord terms. Again, Kipnis does an excellent job. The London Strings seem a bit edgy but their musicianship is impeccable.
Performances: B+, Sound: B
Grieg: Slatter, Op. 72 (Norwegian Folk Dances). Vladimir Pleshakov, piano. Orion ORS 6908 stereo $5.98.
Folk Fiddling from Sweden. Bjorn Stabi, Ole Hjorth, violins. Elektra H-72033 stereo $2.98.
Though there are endless provincial differences between the folk dances of the various Scandinavian regions, for an outside ear there is a remarkable family resemblance-between the Norwegian and Swedish, and even between the original fiddle music and the somewhat elaborate piano arrangements of Edvard Grieg, done at the turn of the century. Two minutes' listening to these two disks proves the point.
In Norway this type of fiddle music is played on the special Hardanger fiddle, an instrument with sympathetic tuned strings to reinforce the sound of the played strings, somewhat as in the old viola d'amore. In Sweden, apparently, the fiddlers use plain old fashioned fiddles.
As for Grieg, he transfers a surprisingly accurate fiddle sound to the piano including the characteristic drone harmonies and the somewhat odd dissonances and "modal" scale tones that are such a pleasant feature of the original music.
How "classical" it sounds! Somehow, we are vaguely reminded of the Swiss and Austrian folk music, the yodel tunes, the squarely harmonized diatonic dance melodies, and we may reflect that, after all, European "classical" music was built very largely out of-or alongside of-European folk music. Folk music, more traditional, lags technically behind; we are here back in the 18th century in terms of "classical" harmonies. Very pure sound, to modern ears, and thus the settings by Grieg, relatively recent, sound surprisingly modern.
The pair of young Swedish fiddlers made their recording at the 1969 Newport Folk Festival. The Grieg piano works are played by an excellent U.S. pianist, of Russian ancestry, born in Shanghai. Typical international mix! For comparison, you will find recordings of Norwegian Hardanger fiddle music at most folk music dealers.
Performances: A; Sound: B+
The Fabulous Osipov Balalaika Orchestra. A Program of Classic and Folk Favorites. Melodiya Angel SR 40120 stereo $5.98.
To be sure, Angel avoids the word "folk" in the title of this recording, though the orchestra's official title is The Nicolai Osipov State Russian Folk Instrument Orchestra. But most listeners will detect a folkish emphasis. If so, it is strictly of the Russian sort. Balalaikasyes. And folk-style dress-up costumes for the eye. But also a large symphony orchestra; our nearest equivalent might be a moving picture orchestra, the kind with a few banjos and guitars thrown in for local color. The music, accordingly, is very fixed-up, in elaborate arrangements, totally professional in calibre and about as genuinely folk-like as-well, Mantovani. Among the various Russian composers you will find Rachmaninoff. And Rimsky Korsakov. Flight of the Bumble Bee--what else?
Performances: Very Pro; Sound: B
Seiji Ozawa, Chicago Symphony; Rimsky-Korsakov, Scheherazade; Borodin, Polovtsian Dances. Angel SFO 36034 stereo $5.98.
Big fuss over the conductor, here, the man who wears his hair long and thick and his clothes extra-mod. Fancy gatefold get-up, complete with pix of the recording sessions and running comment on same. A hi fi spectacular, I guess, and the hero is Ozawa. A while back this would have been one of Capitol's super classic deals; now it carries the Angel label though a U.S. product.
A disciplined, no-nonsense performance of the Rimsky war horse music without a trace of excess emotion, accurate in every detail, very much today. I found it slightly chilly, in spite of the heat in Chi the day it was made (as per the program notes. But would more warmth help? Probably not. The music would merely sound sentimental to our jaundiced present-day ears. I'd say that this is about what you can do with Rimsky at our stage in history-and Borodin as well. We aren't able to listen to the music as it was heard in its own day. Not any more.
Recording? Huge, arena-type sound out of a Shriner temple in Chicago. In spite of twelve mikes, the stereo isn't very spectacular and, indeed, not violently different from mono. Excess reverb confuses its directionality. But the orchestra is miked with excellent balance, the various solo instruments, notably the solo violin, precisely placed against the overall ensemble, standing out just enough to register yet never too close or too loud.
Good. In the Borodin the woodwinds seem to have been specially emphasized.
Pleasant enough. Lots of thumping bass for those who love it.
Performance: B+, Sound: B+
==============
Canby the D.J. & Canby at Carnegie Hall
In recent weeks I have been the quite willing victim of two interesting publicity stunts involving recorded music, both of a pop sort though technically I am a classical man. One stunt plugged a pop singer, out of RCA's stable. The other plugged microphones-the Electro Voice mikes that took down a 16-track tape of a pop percussion band in Carnegie Hall. All this, of course, in the day's work for a classical man in these times; publicity takes it for granted that we know all about pop too. ( Some of us do, after a fashion, and more's the pleasure, I assure you.) Or maybe it's just that publicity can't be bothered with petty distinctions, like pop vs. classical.
Neither outfit knows-until now-how gorgeously its stunt misfired in my case.
Not that I imply any lack of success elsewhere for either venture. It's just that they picked the wrong guy when they picked me. I really had to laugh. I had a wonderful time.
First, through the mail, RCA sent me a big publicity kit. It was designed to help me promote pop singer José Feliciano, in case I needed help. Now it happens that I knew Mr. Feliciano's work already, unofficially ( remember, I'm classical) ; but it wasn't his excellent music that intrigued me in this case. It was the kit itself.
Most ingenious. It contained two 45 records. One was the expected excerpts from his latest LP, "Alive Alive-O." The other was entitled "FELICIANO: IN PERSON," a special disk designed for disk jockeys. Like me, I supposed. (Don't I run a classical D.J. program in prime New York classical time--Sundays at one?) This one I had to hear.
So, after fumbling around for a half hour trying to find a center-hole insert in order to play the thing on my highbrow LP equipment, I found one, slid the disk onto the table, shifted gears to 45; and out came a Feliciano interview.
In person, all right. Both sides, extended play.
Now there's nothing unusual about a recorded interview, but this one was special. A one-voice interview, if you can imagine it. That is, there were Feliciano's answers, one after another, but no questions. They had been edited out, and were printed up on a script, so that you, Mr. Disk Jockey, can ask them yourself, in your very own voice, as though they were your questions. Neat gimmick! The listeners think you have the Great Man right in the studio with you.
Pretty good if you live in Podunk, or maybe Poughkeepsie. You throw it at him, he answers right back. If, of course, you can manipulate the 45 record successfully. You have to hold it with your finger while you ask each question. Or else you tape-edit, though that takes longer. Either way, if all goes well, you have yourself a cosy little private session with this engaging pop singer, just like real. Only it isn't real.
RCA made one little mistake in my case. A whopper. They forgot to include the script.
So there I was with all the answers--and no questions! What to do! You can guess how quickly my beady little eyes lit up when I discovered this. By golly, I'd make up my own questions, and broadcast them too. And so I did. Took Mr. Feliciano (recorded) right into my studio and made him answer a whole series of sober thoughts concerning classical music and its relation to pop music, right off his own interview record. Little did he know! He wasn't even there. It worked like a charm, though!
Me: Mr. Feliciano-now this is a classical program-do you find any special difficulties in doing this sort of classical interview?
F: Well, uh, there's really not that much difficulty; I guess the only difficulty is, uh, that you know you're being recorded and you sort of strive to be as near perfect as possible. But then again, I'm always trying to do that anyway .. .
Me: I suppose you're used to running into people who love classical music and also like what we highbrows call pop. People sort of like both kinds nowadays, more often than not. And so I should think most of the young classical listeners, at least, would react very favorably to your sort of music.
F: Well, I must say that the ... that they react ... er, oh, they react very enthusiastically, y'know. But, uh, I think an audience gets as excited as the artist in ... er, if you create that excitement.
-And so it went, on into some rather serious discussion of the ways in which classical music of the past has resembled pop music of the present. Schubert vs. Ray Charles. Singing with your heart on your sleeve. Picking up influences via the ear-Mozart, perhaps. Or Leadbelly. Interesting, if I do say so. And completely fake from beginning to end.
It's a clever idea, this "open-end" interview, with only the answers recorded and the questions for any old interviewer who comes along. Not really illegitimate, since the medium does allow it and the results are convincing. But, since one must set up ethical limits somewhere, I do think that RCA is off-base in one respect, along with others who may be trying this same sort of technical stunt.
Truth should be told; the interviewee is not in the studio, as it seems. Just a happy illusion.
Instead, RCA suggests ( and I quote ) that "you promote this interview as `prerecorded especially for this program'. This is exactly no more or no less than the fact of the matter." Not fair, RCA. That is a species of weaseling, if you ask me. Using an excellent stunt and a good media trick for less than a candid implication. The fact is that the interviewee was not talking to the D.J., who was sitting there all by himself, with this record.
At least nobody can sit on me for being less than straightforward. At the end of my fake interview I explained the whole thing in detail, and even stopped the record in the middle of a word, thereby throttling poor José Feliciano, just to prove the point. It wasn't his fault, remember.
As for those E-V microphones, I got a hurry call from the editor one afternoon to say that this recording session on a 16-track Ampex was coming off in Carnegie Hall that evening and would I attend? Of course! Anybody who schedules a 16-track recording session in Carnegie Hall has all my attention and respect; so I rushed right up. Cocktails 7 to 8, recording session at eight, he told me.
Well, there were a few souls in the Carnegie bar and I had a bit of good cheer, but the show turned out to be a public concert, complete with audience, and I found myself spang in that famed Best Seat in the Concert Hall, right in the middle of the floor about eleven rows from the stage. Ten-dollar seats! Yep, up on the stage I could dimly discern a number of mikes, in and around the most enormous battery of shiny percussion instruments I have ever laid eyes upon rows of huge marimbas, xylophones, vibraphones, superduperphones, and other machines too complex to name. Presently there was a spate of speech making and then the young man who was being given his Big Chance came forward to conduct.
He had grayish sideburns and weighed in at an easy 200 pounds, but he jiggled in the best big-band tradition as the massive percussion machinery got itself going.
Nary a word, however, about Electro Voice. And I found myself forgetting to watch those mikes.
I never did get any closer to them--how could I?--and I know nothing of what they took down, except certain music that I did not hear at all, though I could see it being played. The P.A. system evidently gave us only part of the sixteen tracks being recorded. People would whang away at drums or metallo phones and nothing would emerge. Not into Carnegie, though surely every note was being captured on one of those fabulous tracks, somewhere backstage in the Ampex room. Not a sound. So how could I judge the mikes? What soon began to fascinate me ( and draw my wandering attention still further from E-V) was a pair of incredible percussionists who visibly occupied vast areas of the foreground on the cluttered stage, dashing about like madmen from one instrument to another, holding long sheets of floppy music in front of them as they ran headlong back and forth for a swipe here and a bang there. One of the men had me hypnotized. He was short, dynamic, fierce, with a furious round beard out in front and huge black spectacles like a psychiatrist. He would scowl a dreadful scowl, then turn and run like a rabbit, dodging a dozen instruments (and mikes) to give a mighty swipe at a bass drum far left-then race, head down, all the way to stage right, grab a pair of hammers and buzz away on a xylophone so fast that his arms would blur; then off again fifty feet for three notes on something else, music always held out at arm's length ahead of him.
Incredible! I waited, breathless, to see him make a mistake, or run straight into a kettledrum and knock it over with a crash. But he never missed a beat. It was uncanny. What a bit for television! That man must have covered a couple of miles of stage at top speed before he quit, and played at least a million notes in a dozen different places. A genius .. . As for E-V, by the time this gets in print we will have located another program book-I lost mine, as usual, on the way out-and can let you know which E-V mikes were in use, and what record resulted from the 16-track recording.
Natch, what I heard had no relation at all to the finished result. That's what 16 track is all about, isn't it? But I had an awfully good time, just watching.
==============
(Audio magazine, Jul. 1970; Edward Tatnall Canby)
More music articles and reviews from AUDIO magazine.
= = = =