Books, Arts & Manners: Shall We Dance?

IN THE backwaters of World War II, I was assigned, among other duties, to give soldiers a course in “music appreciation,” perhaps to mitigate the tedium of duty away from combat zones and Army nurses. For this I earnestly mimeographed detailed “program notes” on what to look for in those few recordings I was able to snag from Armed Forces Radio. But I soon discovered that what my “students” wanted most was the opportunity to listen to what had not been a part of their lives as civilians. So I limited myself to brief comments on the highlights and historical context of the music I played, and the lives of the composers. The more the soldiers listened, the less I lectured.

So in that spirit let me report that I have been listening with much pleasure to a three-CD album from Sony: The Unreleased Studio Recordings of Beethoven’s piano sonatas, by the late Rudolf Serkin. In my youth as a writer on music, I used to worship as Serkin, Alexander Schneider, and that foursquare expositor of Bach, Otto Klemperer, held forth at truly remarkable concerts at New York’s Town Hall. I have always admired Serkin for the sensitivity of his touch and the sensibility of his interpretations. Much has been written about Beethoven’s piano sonatas, and it has great pertinency, for they hold far more than the ear first recognizes. Serkin recorded the sonatas in this album over the years— and, perfectionist that he was, would not let them be edited for release; but we have them now. Of the nine sonatas in this collection—from Beethoven’s first in F minor to the last great three, Op. 109, 110, and 111—five were never elsewhere recorded by Serkin.

RT

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Ralph de Toledano

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IN THE backwaters of World War II, I was assigned, among other duties, to give soldiers a course in “music appreciation,” perhaps to mitigate the tedium of duty away from combat zones and Army nurses. For this I earnestly mimeographed detailed “program notes” on what to look for in those few recordings I was able to snag from Armed Forces Radio. But I soon discovered that what my “students” wanted most was the opportunity to listen to what had not been a part of their lives as civilians. So I limited myself to brief comments on the highlights and historical context of the music I played, and the lives of the composers. The more the soldiers listened, the less I lectured.

So in that spirit let me report that I have been listening with much pleasure to a three-CD album from Sony: The Unreleased Studio Recordings of Beethoven’s piano sonatas, by the late Rudolf Serkin. In my youth as a writer on music, I used to worship as Serkin, Alexander Schneider, and that foursquare expositor of Bach, Otto Klemperer, held forth at truly remarkable concerts at New York’s Town Hall. I have always admired Serkin for the sensitivity of his touch and the sensibility of his interpretations. Much has been written about Beethoven’s piano sonatas, and it has great pertinency, for they hold far more than the ear first recognizes. Serkin recorded the sonatas in this album over the years— and, perfectionist that he was, would not let them be edited for release; but we have them now. Of the nine sonatas in this collection—from Beethoven’s first in F minor to the last great three, Op. 109, 110, and 111—five were never elsewhere recorded by Serkin.