I recently posted a review of the music of Herman Finck. Apart from being a good composer he is quite definitely one of the greatest musical wits to have lived in the Twentieth Century. Ok. I accept that his humour may not appeal to the sophisticated audiences of today who idolise Jimmy Carr or Peter Kay. Furthermore, his wit is not caustic like Sir Thomas Beecham – I guess that Finck rarely offended anyone. However, some of his anecdotes are funny, entertaining and educative. I give two for your delight. Over the next couple of posts I will try to give a little more detail about these stories.
The
first concerns a well-known Russian pianist and composer:-
‘When
I was on tour with [Edward German’s] Merrie
England in Glasgow, I went upstairs
[to my hotel bedroom] to hear brilliant pianoforte playing. Someone was playing Chopin, then dropping
into the Midsummer’s Night Dream
scherzo. A part of the scherzo would be played so very slowly, then more Chopin
would follow. I was so fascinated by the playing that I begun to undress in the
corridor [I do not believe this is meant to be taken in anything other than in
good faith! Ed.] outside my bedroom door to listen.
‘Who
is that playing?’ I asked the chambermaid.
‘Oh,
I cannot pronounce his name,’ she replied.
‘Rachmaninov?’
I asked.
‘Yes,
that’s it.’
Rachmaninov
was giving a recital in Glasgow that night, but as I stood in the corridor wrestling
with a white tie I could not for the life of me think why he should be playing
Mendelssohn at that dirge-like tempo. Months later, I heard that Rachmaninov
had prepared an elaborate piano arrangement of the ‘Scherzo’[from the
Midsummer’s Night Dream]. So I was the first person to hear it; he had been
going through it slowly that night in Glasgow.’
Apparently,
there are many anecdotes about corridors, music, hotels and Rachmaninoff in the
musical literature.
The
other tale concerns Maurice Ravel. Herman Finck wrote that:- ‘The French
composer [had] orchestrated some of the etudes of Chopin for a Nijinsky ballet
season at the Palace and his orchestrations were sent to me. I found out that
one was incomplete, and I was trying to sort the matter out, when Philip Page
came into the theatre.
‘What
are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Trying
to unravel Ravel,’ I replied.
My
Melodious Memories Herman Finck Hutchinson &
Co. Ltd., 1937 (with minor edits)
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