One might venture to remark that composers are the most keen, most conscious judges of their own works, or, rather, of the garments which fit them best. There is in all composition a divine part and also a conscious part. The divine part is the inspiration. The conscious part has to do with dressing the inspiration in its most appropriate harmonic, polyphonic, and rhythmic garments. These garments are the raiment in which the inspiration will be viewed by future generations. It is often by these garments that they will be judged. If the garments are awkward, inappropriate and ill-fitting, a beautiful interpretation of the composer's ideal will be impossible. Nevertheless, it is the performer's duty in each case to try to see through even unbecoming garments and divine the composer's thought, according to the interpreter's best understanding.
Learning the Musical Language
Where interpretation is concerned, one is too often inclined to forget that while there is a higher part, the secrets of which are accessible only to the elect, there is also an elementary part which involves the knowledge of musical grammar, and beyond that the correct feeling of musical declamation—since music, after all, is a language which is at all times perfectly teachable, and which should be most carefully and systematically taught. I consider the book of Mathis Lussy, Rhythm and Musical Expression, of great value to the student in search of truths pertaining to intelligent interpretation. Lussy was a Swiss who was born in the early part of the last century. He went to Paris to study medicine, but, having had a musical training in the country of his birth, he became a good pianoforte teacher and an excellent writer upon musical subjects. While teaching in a young ladies' school, he was confronted with the great paucity of real knowledge of the rudiments of expression, and he accordingly prepared a book upon the subject which has since been translated into several languages. This book is most helpful, and I advocate its use frequently. It should be in the hands of every conscientious piano student.
Mistakes Peculiar to the Pianoforte Player
The nature of the keyboard of the piano, and the ease with which certain things are accomplished, make it possible for the performer to make certain errors which the construction of other instruments would prevent. The pianist is, for instance, entirely unlike the violinist, who has to locate his keyboard every time he takes up his instrument, and, moreover, locate it by a highly trained sense of position. In a certain way I sometimes feel somewhat ashamed for the pianist profession when I hear players, even those with manifest technical proficiency, commit flagrant mistakes against elementary rules of accentuation and phrasing, such as, for instance, an average violinist acquainted with good bowing is accordingly prevented from making upon his instrument.
The means of discovering the composer's hidden meaning are, in fact, so numerous that the conscientious interpreter must keep upon continuous voyages of exploration. There are many easily recognizable paths leading to the promised land—one is the path of harmony, without an understanding of which the would-be performer can never reach his goal; another is musical history; others are the studies of phrasing, rhythm, accentuation, pedaling, etc., etc., ad infinitum. To fail to traverse any one of these roads will result in endless exasperation. Find your guide, press on without thinking of failure, and the way to success may be found before you know it.