Chapter 11: On taste, style, nuances, expression and the effect of covered sounds

ON TASTE, STYLE, NUANCES, EXPRESSION AND THE EFFECT OF COVERED SOUNDS.

The word Taste expresses the sense of beauties and flaws in all the arts. Taste cannot be learned; it is a gift of nature which a person is born with; it is one of those mysterious and hidden senses which he may possess, or of which he may be deprived. But this natural taste, which leads us by instinct to choose and discern what is beautiful, and to avoid what is vulgar, needs nevertheless to be guided and directed by some kind of education; for it is susceptible to all impressions, and can be modified, developed, perfected, or spoiled according to whether it has good or bad examples before its eyes. Taste is closely related to the dictates of fashion, to the whims of the times, and is often applied only to that sense of appropriateness which makes a piece of music composed or performed in such and such a way, more or less in keeping with received and generally adopted ideas. To make music today in the taste of Lulli, to sing as one sang in the presence of the great king Louis XIV, would be neither in good taste nor fashion: it would be, at most, historical music, as we have seen at the concerts of Mr. Fétis.

Style consists in the manner of expressing ideas, according to the form that the thought takes; this applies to the composer as well as to the performer or singer. Garat sang in the style desired by the composer, and always admirably, sometimes the pieces of Gluck's great operas, sometimes the Gasconne, sometimes the romance Bouton de rose: this is because Garat was an artist privileged by nature; there was enough flexibility in his disposition to take on all styles; to imprint on the phrases a local nuance and a stamp of good taste. We wanted to prove to Chevalier Gluck that Garat was not a perfect musician: "What does it matter to me," replied the immortal author of Armide, "if he is music itself?"

J.J. Rousseau said "Expression is a quality by which the musician feels strongly, and renders with energy all the ideas that he must render and all the feelings that he must express". There "is an expression of composition and one of execution, and it is from their combination that the most powerful and pleasant musical effect results.

Regardless of whether music is performed by the voice or the instrument, it cannot be born, nor can it exist without expression and nuance.

Knowing how to skillfully place the nuances in a song, how to add a happy expression, means mastering the secret of contrasts, so powerful in the arts, in poetry, in painting, as in music; it means leading the audience from surprise to surprise, through sudden and unexpected events, which astonish and carry them away; it means displaying all the riches of the imagination to their eyes: He is then fascinated by the magic of chiaroscuro, which seizes him and transports him while he contemplates a painting by Rembrandt or Claude Lorrain. He feels that deep emotion which we all feel when Rubini sings the cavatines of the Pirate or the Somnambule, or when the Conservatoire concert society performs Beethoven's inimitably superior Symphonies.

Is it too much to ask of the Horn's nature to sing with expression? No, of course not, for since this artificial voice imitates the voice of a man, the player of this instrument can add as much expression to it as he would to a piece sung with his natural voice. But let us forget for a moment the mechanism of the Horn, let us forget all the study and perseverance it took to become one of the few who have moved the boundaries of the art; let us leave the principles of method behind and look at the result; Leaving aside the means, let us no longer consider the Horn as a brass instrument, but as an organised voice which can translate and transmit the impressions it has received and which it wishes to awaken in others, whether it sings its own song or is inspired by the work of others. Does the horn intend to depict the state of the soul, the passions of the heart? Does it not have joyful accents for your pleasure, as it has tears for pain? Yes, there are two kinds of expression, written expression and played expression: the first comes from the composer; it is drawn from the subject itself, it is subordinated to the mental state, under the influence of which the composer has written; sometimes it betrays the emotion he has felt, sometimes it paints his happiness; these are memories that he communicates: often his music is his own story, sometimes it is only an episode of his life. The second is that of the performer: it is up to him to give life and movement to the lifeless picture before his eyes; he must identify with it, try to catch the author's innermost thoughts in it; he needs to put himself on the stage to set the proper mood and choose the language most in harmony with the subject he has to convey. He must not give warmth, strength and impetus to what only requires calm and gentleness. In a melody, for example, where every phrase is filled with a graceful simplicity, he must be easy, naive and touching. With tact and instinct, one can give each piece the expression that it deserves: this is what truly constitutes the artist, and this is how he can attain the sublimity of art.

The use of stopped sounds is one of the greatest means of expression that can be used on the Horn.

The use of stopped sounds is one of the greatest means of expression that can be used on the horn. In the course of this method, I have confined myself to indicating the manner of attaining those tones with the greatest possible accuracy, reserving the right to make them the subject of a special section and to speak of their effects. This nuance, this contrast, this opposition at all times give music an immense variety and add to its beauty an inexpressible charm. And it must be admitted here that if it is not in the nature of the Horn to be completely perfect, it has in this respect the superiority of expression over other instruments; expression which belongs to the horn alone and which no one can dispute. Is it possible to produce the same effects on wind instruments such as the Flute, Oboe, Clarinet or Bassoon? I know that one can modify the action of the breath, play it half-heartedly, and yet, weak or strong, the sound is always the same, there is only a difference in the degree of intensity, whereas on the Horn it is another voice that sings, a voice that responds to the first voice, and that does not resemble it in any way: there is an opposition of strength, an opposition of song.

These ideas on stopped tones, of which I have found no examples written with intention, either in the old compositions or in those of today, have been submitted several times to the appreciation of the public(*), and I must say, without wishing to take pride in it, but to express the satisfaction I feel in having been able to add something to the ideas of my predecessors, that the approval with which this musical novelty has been received and the endorsement it has been given has been excellent and in good taste.

Let us summarise: Taste, style and expression, added to rigorous and determined study, complete the art of playing the Horn, just as they serve to train a good singer. Let the students, far from being discouraged, persist in the rigorous application of these principles, which, each in detail, or all at once, are indispensable, and I predict them real success in advance. By comparing the student who wants to play the Horn to the student who is learning to sing, we shall recall here what the famous Garat and the great Maestro Rossini once told us: that the best school for an instrumentalist was that of a good singer; in our turn, we shall allow ourselves to reverse the sentence thus: the best school for a singer is that of a good instrumentalist.

(*) The Fantasies on the Martyrs, on the Straniera, the 9 and 11 solo contain whole phrases in which I have purposely combined the effect of the blocked sounds.

By Julius Pranevičius