MUSIC Beck: Artist of the Year Ella Fitzgerald: The Last Jazz Giant
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By Paul Festa the event of the year in the classical music world would seem at first glance to be the pessimism which has gripped performers, conservatories and record labels all over the country. A gloomy consensus has emerged among this group that the industry's collective fat lady is singing the last act trio of "Der Rosenkavalier" all by herself.
Having agreed that the end is at hand, the classical music world should pull itself together and address the most pressing crisis of the day, which is that nobody seems capable of writing it a decent obituary. Lately the press has been full of finger-pointing post-mortems, which, in terms of etiquette, or at least human feeling, are the equivalent of finding on the "Deaths" page diatribes against the deceased for smoking too many cigarettes and eating too many late meals.
Rather than lamenting the vices that have led to its demise, I suggest we observe the end of the classical music world by celebrating one of America's greatest gifts to it. The Juilliard String Quartet, which had the foresight to schedule its 50th anniversary to coincide with the current classical doomsday craze, has marked the year with a full schedule of magnificent projects. First and foremost among these has been a group of commissions and premieres: David Diamond's Concerto for String Quartet and Orchestra, Milton Babbitt's Quintet for Clarinet and Strings, works by Ralph Shapey, Charles Wuorinen and Henri Dutilleux. And in addition to anniversary concerts and tours, the public has been treated to a 7-CD series of spectacular re-releases from Sony's overzealously guarded Juilliard Quartet vault.
Before I put down another nice adjective about the Juilliard Quartet and their splendid golden anniversary celebrations, I had better own up to something. I know the quartet. I studied chamber music with three of them; I studied violin with the quartet's first violinist and only original member. For three years I played for Robert Mann twice a week. I labored under his assignments, bristled under his criticism, basked in his praise; on a few privileged occasions I performed his compositions, read chamber music at his side and played his Stradivarius. I dreamed and laughed and wept about him; I woke at dawn for 7:30 a.m. lessons. For me and for a small group of other string players at the Juilliard School, Bobby Mann was the center of our musical universe, the man who had known everyone and played everything everywhere, and the man who taught like God.
So I approach Mr. Mann and the quartet today with all the critical distance of a neurotic rising from the couch to eulogize his psychoanalyst. The skeptical reader who is surely no more skeptical than I should bear in mind, however, that once the analysand has emerged from his treatment, he may be as motivated to bury his good doctor as to praise him. That said, there is simply not enough praise available in the English language to do justice to the treasures the Juilliard Quartet has lavished on the music world over the past 50 years.
The achievements of this quartet over the last half-century are famous and hardly need to be repeated here: somewhere in the neighborhood of 5,000 performances; a repertoire of about 500 works, 60 world premieres by American composers alone; the first American performances of the Bartók quartet cycle; the first tour of the U.S.S.R. by an American quartet; the longest tenure ever of any one musician in any known classical ensemble; prestigious residencies, countless awards and honors. The Juilliard did for the string quartet what Callas did for opera and what Bernstein did for conducting, which was not only to set a standard of excellence, but to define the contours of the art form in terms of repertoire and style. The quartet played a significant role in establishing and maintaining the virtual hegemony America enjoyed in the classical music world for much of the century.
Listening to the seven CDs released by Sony this year (the barest, most tantalizing glimpse into the vast and historic collection the label is unconscionably hoarding), I am struck by less familiar voices of early quartet members, but more than that by the remarkable continuity of the quartet's musical character over five decades. Clearly, this continuity is the result of Mr. Mann's uninterrupted career as first violinist. Equally clear is that this artistic voice is one of the most distinctive in all of recorded music. Robert Mann's sound is as immediately recognizable as that of Jascha Heifetz, Joseph Szigeti, Dietrich Fischer-Diskau or Billie Holiday.
The children of the recording era have conspired to kill this kind of individuality in classical musicians of every sort; and the success of this conspiracy is largely responsible for the sorry pass to which classical music has come today. Robert Mann, in his performance and his pedagogy, has led a life-long revolt against musical homogeneity, and it is for this as much as anything else that the music world should honor him as he prepares to complete his last season as a member of the Juilliard Quartet. After 51 years, Robert Mann is stepping aside to pursue other projects; Joel Smirnoff will replace him as first violinist. As Mann leaves behind him the rigors of quartet life, an industry in trouble can consult no one better in its efforts to save itself. When it comes to artistic longevity, Robert Mann knows a thing or two.
Top ten ways to celebrate the Juilliard Quartet's 50th anniversary:
10. Scour used record shops for the quartet's historic Bartok cycles from 1950 and 1965; for the groundbreaking Schoenberg cycle by the original quartet and soprano Uta Graf; for countless other early Juilliard recordings.
Paul Festa is a regular contributor to Salon.
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