JAVS Fall 1995

60

No Organ Concerto

I have often related the story of some valuable advice once given me by Paul Hinde mith, and of its effect, which has lasted to this day. Hindemith conducted a performance of his Organ Concerto with the New York Philharmonic in the late fifties. The well-known organist, who shall remain nameless in this tale, was seated at the console in center stage at Carnegie Hall. At the rehearsals, the most frequent stops were made for the composer's comments that the organ w~s too loud. They were to no avail. From the first note of the performance, the organist played no less than forte. Hindemith, not a large man, was perched on the summit of a three-tiered podium, especially designed for his use at the concert. There was absolutely no communication between the occupants of the console and the podium, the soloist never taking his eyes off the keyboard and the stops. Hindemith flailed his arms in desperation as he begged for some relief from the roaring King of Instruments. Purely orchestral passages arrived and departed, all drowned in the rolling sea of sound from the monstrous pipes. When it finally and mercifully came to an end, Hindemith, crimson with rage and drenched from the futility of his efforts, made his way down the mountain of lumber and stomped over to me. (We knew each other from chamber music and recording ses sions.) He growled with a gravelly voice into my ear, "Never write an organ concerto!" And I never have! On very short notice, Hindemith once asked me to play in a concert at Town Hall, New York City, under his baton. Among the works was his Kammermusik No.1. One of the movements consisted of very fast triplets, in the cramped half-position on the C string, for solo viola. At the concert, he announced that he had made arrangements to have it recorded on the following day. I arrived early to have another careful look at the two devilish pages. To my chagrin, I saw that one of the notes was a B below the open C! I showed it to Hindemith. He looked at my part, compared it with the score, glanced about surreptitiously and said to me, behind his hand, "Leave it out. I don't think the composer will know."

LeonardDavis Former Principal Violist, New York Philharmonic

Hindemith in Argentina

P aul Hindemith came to Buenos Aires, Argentina, in 1954, invited by the "Asociacion Amigos de la Musica," whose orchestra he conducted in several con certs. Each program included mostly his own works, even a few premieres; Hindernith usually started with a piece like a Canzona by Gabrieli for which he always requested that the assistant concertmaster be replaced by a viola player. It certainly was a very unusual but exciting experience for me to be seated in that location. Der Schwanendreher was played by a good and well-known violist specially engaged for the occasion. Rehearsals of the piece started with Hindemith-usually a polite per son-showing some signs of silent disapproval followed by verbal indications to the