By choosing three contrasting recordings, from
different periods, of a single musical work, this piece analyses their
performance strategies applying the approach(es) introduced in a musicology
seminar. Based on this recording analysis, I discuss both the advantages and limitations
of the applied approach(es), in terms of studying musical performance as a subject of musicology.
Introduction
In
this essay I will be starting by giving a brief account of the developments of
recording analysis, with writers such as Nicholas Cook, José Bowen, Mark
Everist, John Rink and Robert Philip among others. Nevertheless, these are the
main strains of thought that I will be following in my essay. Later I introduce
Liszt’s Funérailles from his Harmonies poétiques et religieuses, and
its various sections, exploring how my three chosen recordings vary from timing
to style. Interweaved with this, several pros and cons of studying recordings
in such methodologies will be given. The last section of the essay will finally
focus on advantages and disadvantages of such analytical method for recording
analysis, giving a conclusion based on the findings.
Overview
Nicholas Cook has
played an important role for the development of performance studies as a
musicological practice, emphasizing the importance of the performer’s own
analytical discourse. For Cook, there is a difference between the score and the
language implicated within a performance. The score represents a concrete
possibility, whereas its interpretative language has its own particular logics.
This differentiation marks the rise of various interpretations. Analysis in
itself is already a subjective response to the score, thus if one establishes
his/her own methods of analysis as a system for interpretation, it is not only
agreeing to the common knowledge of what should be emphasized or restricted,
but it is also limiting what analysis can do; ‘one should make analysis true through, rather than true to, experience’.[1]
Therefore what Cook proposes is to give more importance to the performer’s
experience and use that for recording analysis.
A
performer’s analytical discourse of a piece not only encompasses style, but
also relativity to other performances, as well as variable yet non-outstanding
use of technique to emphasize musical meaning. This latter develops almost
unnoticeable in history; a performance stands biased by a common historic ideal
of how that piece should sound in order to please, and Leech-Wilkinson points
out, ‘…performance
style changes not so much by intention… as by accident, by gradual changes,
made almost without anyone noticing, that accumulate rapidly. And to that
extent performance style needs different models if we’re to understand its
mechanisms’.[2]
A performer’s view is part of a broader spectrum that relates back and forth;
individual traits are only visible when time proves to have adhered those specific
traits. Many have attempted these mechanisms of analysis, as I will now
explore.
Joel Lester for instance related performance
interpretation to an existing scored-based analysis of a work, furthering
Schoenberg’s and Adorno’s performance studies of replicating the ‘page to
stage’ approach. Bernstein followed a similar semantic approach when describing
poetry performance and stated that ‘“one of the primary techniques of poetry
performance is the disruption of rationalizable patterns of sound through the
intervallic irruption of acoustic elements not recuperable by monological
analysis”’.[3]
Traditional musicology has treated performance studies as another branch of
literature, creating analogies between text and musical score. For Cook this is
problematic since these concepts, built around the 19th century and
heavily influenced by Adorno’s social meaning as being encoded in musical text,
make it harder for the musicologist to translate the point of interest in a
recording. Nevertheless, that earlier statement by Bernstein points toward an
interesting aesthetic of recordings, which not only records the musical sounds
in a timeless frame, but also includes all those ‘acoustic elements’ not
referable to the work but to the whole itself. Glenn Gould stands as an
example. In an interview made by Yehudi Menuhin, Gould states that there is
something unique about each recorded note and challenges Menuhin to think that
that particular note, which has been technologically modified as Gould did in
his recordings, is the actual emotion. His recordings of Bach suggests an
invitation to perceive the music from the performer’s point of view, giving a
turn to the purist concepts that oblige the performer to solely express the
composer’s view. This ‘language of authority’[4],
the need to express what the composer wanted to say, as Cook puts it, deviates
again to the need of Western art music to relate to semantics and meaning of
texts, instead of exploring causes and effects within the production of that
particular recording. When analysing recordings, there is a tripartite
collaboration between the creative forces: the composer, the performer and the
listener. Cook states, ‘it is the performer’s obligation to represent the
composer’s work to the listener, just as it is the listener’s obligation to
strive towards an adequate understanding of the work itself’.[5]
For Cook this means a faithful, or as stated before, authoritarian language,
yet I intend to explore this further.
An adequate recording analysis would benefit from a
concern about the relationship between these different forces. Much importance
has been given to the composer and the performer, yet the listener, who has the
final say of what becomes a successful reception, is ignored and becomes a
fragmented mass whose musical education at a concert remains obscure due to
this inattention. The listener is obliged to understand, yet there are no given
parameters to adhere to. For instance, and it is the case of many contemporary
pieces, a composer needs nowadays to give much more context surrounding his/her
composition, but the connoisseur will always stand a step ahead of the amateur
listener. Technology, especially since the invention of recording systems, has
changed the way we perceive and listen to music: by using a computer I am able
to explore and manipulate all the sonorities of a piece and change its dynamics
and tempo. Therefore dichotomies in the modes of listening affect the value the
audience will eventually give, affecting in return composers, and thus later,
performers and recordings. Value is given to the final product of a recording:
performing, composing and editing a piece becomes a similar act, and as the
editors in The Cambridge Companion to
Recorded Music summarise, ‘the ‘original’ performance becomes irrecoverable
or irrelevant’.[6]
An account of the listener after hearing a performance would be desirable to
understand performance studies, partially solving a language of authority that
only rests within music connoisseurs.
Analysing Funérailles
Musicologist José Bowen has used computer systems to
compare timings of different recordings of a same piece. It cannot provide the
similar insights a score analysis can, yet puts the music in a horizontal line
that reflects a range of styles. Even though this system suffers from the same
traditional problems of style analysis, the empirical and visual meaning of a
recording’s graph is a starting point to deduce further musicological
perspectives from very simple data:
Fig. 1, José Bowen’s
analysis of durations in recordings. The example is the exposition in
Beethoven’s first movement of his Symphony no. 5. [7]
From this graph, simple conclusions are drawn out. The
exposition gets shorter by the time we arrive at Norrington. Similarly, I have
made two graphs to depict how timing has changed in Liszt’s Funérailles:
In
figure 2, I have chosen six different recordings, ranging from 1930 up to 2012.
Rubinstein, Horowitz and Argerich play the piece under ten minutes, while
Arrau, Barrio and Kissin expand it to reach an average of 12 minutes. Time
depicts their several style perceptions, as I will explore with more detail
later on. The piece has been divided into six main sections and the bar numbers
of these can be found in the Ürtext edition by Ernst- Günter Heinemann.[8]
I will
now focus on the main sections of Funérailles.
The Introduzione section introduces
the bell-like characteristic of the piece and leads on to the pesante section starting in bar 24. The lagrimoso section begins in bar 56,
containing two variations of this theme and ending with a transition towards the
first chordal theme, which starts in
bar 89. The fourth section, the marcato,
starts in bar 109 and later increases tempo and effect by adding octaves into
the triplet figuration, with a transition in octaves that finishes in the
second chordal section. This latter
section starts in bar 156, being the climax of the piece due to octave
figuration and strong dynamics. The last marcato
section occurs after a short revisit of the lagrimoso
theme: a fifth higher than the original lagrimoso.
This last marcato section is also in
a different key and has a short amount of time for the pianist to achieve the
broad dynamic writings.
Figure 2 acts as a starting point
for the understanding of figure 3. The meaning of performance style is better
explained if seen as a horizontal line, since the historical process of
performance involves logics, such as aural, that do not necessarily relate to
the writing processes of composition. As Cook points out, ‘performances create
meaning in relation to other performances, and not just in relation to works’.[9]
Style Through
Timing
In
figure 3, I reduce the spectrum to my main three performers.[10]
Rubinstein stands as a link between early and late twentieth-century, his
performance depicts a style full of expressive weight, a style that remained
unchanged during the post-war years up until recent times. Argerich’s
performance of 1976 follows a similar path, as Leech-Wilkinson explains,
‘Pianists… [such as] Argerich (1941)… work broadly within this stylistic world
in which vibrato and dynamics bear most of the expressive load, with rubato
constrained by a steady beat, the tone rich and relatively unvaried’.[11]
In both Rubinstein and Argerich, the first marcato
section with the triplet figuration of Liszt’s Funérailles, start with a thorough and steady beat, which
accelerate unnoticeable until the end of the section, given the nervous pace in
which it already started. On the contrary, Barrio’s performance of 2010 begins
with a slow pace, according to the annotations in that section, which state poco a poco più moto and by the time it
reaches the octaves it reads again sempre
più crescendo e più de moto and ending this first marcato section with an Allegro
energico assai in D major against chromatic octaves.
What
Wilkinson describes as a rich and unvaried tone, Argerich exemplifies it in the
lagrimoso section, where tempo is
strictly kept at all times, yet the variations of this theme are reflected
through changes in dynamics and very specific rubatos which do not alter the
direction of the piece. As opposed to this, the same section in Barrio is
similarly rich in tone but the main melody in the right hand is played in a
freer tempo, allowing extra artistic space for the overall harmonies, and thus
explaining his interpretation of 12 minutes. Taking the line of Argerich’s and
Rubinstein’s post-war style, Barrio expands expression and heightens even
further the value of each note.
Vladimir Horowitz’s 1930 performance of Funérailles is what is described on the
previous paragraph as a performance with very heightened expressions, where ‘it
was general practice in the early twentieth century to underline the contrasts
by changes of tempo. Lyrical and reflective passages would be played more
slowly and energetic passages more quickly’.[12] In
Horowitz, the ending of the Introduzione
is accelerated to depict the harmonic and rhythmic contrast further appearing
in the pesante section of bar 24.
Similarly, Argerich accelerates the tempo at the end of the lagrimoso section, from bar 86 to 88. In
the Ürtext score, ambiguous rit.,
which could stand for ritardando or ritenuto, have been reproduced as they
appeared in the main sources, yet it still stands unclear for the editor. In
this ending of the lagrimoso, in a
space of two bars, it reads più agitato e
accel. and ending with a rit. in
bar 88. The immediate location of this rit.,
which is directly above three marcatos, deduces that this should be performed
as ritenutos: immediately reducing
the speed, rather than playing a ritardando.
Nevertheless, Argerich performs the first instruction, the più agitato e accel. and immediately starts the first chordal
section. Rubinstein seems to stand in a middle ground, performing both
instructions under a constrained tempo and dynamic, while Barrio focuses on the
last rit. and decreases dynamics and
tempo before introducing the chordal
section.
This approach to recording analysis nonetheless
falls on the risk of returning to traditional musicology, as this is evidence
and clues found in the score. As Bowen points out, ‘just as Beethoven’s
multiple and varied metronome marks do nothing to determine an authoritative
standard tempo for his works… Surely we value single performance and single
sets of metronome marks by composers too highly’.[13] Yet
it is important to understand further style traits. Rubinstein and Argerich
follow a similar performing tradition, in the style of their period.
To discover the uniqueness of each performance,
Bowen seeks to understand this through ‘the general stylistic conventions of
the era and region.’[14]
Geographically, both Rubinstein and Argerich stand closer to each other.
Rubinstein became a US citizen in 1946, five years after Argerich’s birth in
Argentina. Barrio has a more European flavour, having had influences from
Bulgarian-born French pianist Alexis Weissenberg, pianist Eliza Hansen and
Germanic traits from Christoph Eschenbach. Bowen agrees that a specific change
in tempo is a literal uniqueness and a trait of individual innovation. All
three performers adjust the tempo to suit their own individual style
characteristics. Interestingly, Claudio Arrau, used as an example in figure 2,
studied at the Stern Conservatoire of Berlin under the tutelage of Martin
Krause, one of Liszt’s pupils, and is now famously remembered for his Liszt
interpretations, even though this connection cannot provide an ideal
performance but rather a truer historical approach. The stylistic dichotomies
between pianists like Barrio, Arrau and Kissin seem clear in comparison to other
traditions in pianists such as Argerich, Rubinstein and Horowitz. Barenboim
described Arrau as having a full-bodied thickness, which is similarly heard in
the Introduzione section of Barrio’s
performance, where the bell-like harmonies of the left hand are performed in a
forte manner throughout, as opposed to Rubinstein’s more constrained beginning.
Advantages
– Further Investigations
When analysing recordings, Bowen considers
three types of performance issues, those being traits in style, tradition, and
innovation and individual choice. For the purpose of Liszt’s piece I will focus
on tradition mainly. Bowen explains that for a certain piece that on goes
changes throughout time, there are several traditions that become a performance
practice and thus a ‘traditional’ performance. But these practices came from
individual works. In Liszt nonetheless, other aspects should be included too.
Alan Walker’s historic studies on Liszt reflect he was a composer whose methods
were written down and whose thoughts many students have captured. Bowen states
that performers should not study performance research in order to play in the
correct way, and to a certain extent he is right, since Walker not only
attempts to enlighten but to deliver an opinion on how to perform that limits
the possibilities of the performer. In his book, Franz Liszt, The Virtuoso Years 1811-1847, he explains,
Ever since Debussy and the Impressionists it
has been accepted that clarity in piano texture is not always a virtue, that
deliberate blurring and clouding of the harmonies is a genuine musical effect.
In Liszt’s day this was a novel attitude. Accordingly, such pedal markings as
we see it at the beginning of Funérailles
were without precedent… The player who lacks the courage to keep the pedal down
may produce a “cleaner” sound, but he will lose the noise and clangour of
funeral bells which build up to a deafening roar. If he loses that, he loses
the piece.[15]
Indeed the pedal markings in Liszt’s Funérailles constitute a major role in
the creation of effect. A calculated marking such as this has to be respected,
yet extreme fidelity to a work, Werktreue,
as Bowen points out, emphasises more the text in itself rather than its
aesthetic ideas. If a performer does not follow the indications of a thoroughly
positivistic edition, the audience could respond that his/her interpretation
does not fulfil the idea of correctness. In pieces such as this, historical
research provides a background to solidify one’s performance: for example Liszt’s
inner religious conflicts and the causes for writing such piece (the deaths of
friends in the Hungarian war of independence of 1849) cannot be simply
overlooked. When Bowen states that more emphasis has been given to editions and
guides that rather ‘outnumber studies in contemporary aesthetics’,[16] a
study of historical aesthetics becomes desirable to pursue, since it does not
concentrate on the score, but on the creative causes of such piece. In this new
context, the three recordings become somewhat different, as I explore now with
more detail.
In Argerich’s recording, in the beginning of
the Introduzione, she changes pedal
on the second harmony of the bell-like sound, the Eb against the C, when Liszt
wrote to maintain the pedal until the third bell sound, that of F against C.
Recording analysis is able to find differences like this.
In this respect, Argerich would have ‘lost the piece’ in Walker’s own words.
Yet I would like to suggest that the historical development of instruments,
with special attention to the evolution of the piano, could validate
performances as well. The rise of the virtuoso in the nineteenth-century, with
composers such as Liszt, saw the emergence of new expressive, technical and
pedagogic methods. As Clarke and Doffman point out when describing the virtuosism
of Liszt and Paganini, ‘by virtue of common embodied experience we all share
some partial intuitive understandings of what this kind of instrumental control
must require – in terms of purely physical demands’.[18]
This embodied experience, which not only embodies common understandings,
derives also from changes in the instruments themselves. The powerful sound of
the piano nowadays is logically different from that piano Liszt would have
used. If Argerich indeed maintained that pedal until the third harmonic change,
the inherent physical demand of the Introduzione
would rely more on the pedal. It would make that new blurriness technique
Walker talks about a trait more specific to Debussy and not the physical
harmonic prowess of Liszt, such hint is even in the title itself. A performer
would benefit from relying on expressiveness to enhance technique, instead of
relying on technique to reflect structural expression, just as Liszt demanded
of his students and of himself.[19]
An intuitive understanding, to perhaps use a half-pedal and rely more on the
power of physical technique, is not the ultimate interpretation, yet derives
from an experience less relevant to the historical interpretation of a composer
and his music, and has more to do with the kind of analysis that puts
performers and their experiences as required methodologies.
A middle ground, that is, between the concrete
possibilities of the score; the possibilities of historical accounts, and a
record of surviving historical performances can be found through a reduction of
recording analysis to a mathematical probability. Bowens’s analysis through
computer programming (refer back to figure 1) and the work made in CHARM are
archives to produce an answer that is closer to the ideal performance based on
other performances, more than any score-based analysis.
I would like to therefore explain what musicologists of performance
studies have said about analysis. As already mentioned before, not enough
importance has been given to performers and their performances. John Rink
explains further that analysts such as Schenker, Tovey or Berry were unable to
give validity to their analysis by referring to certain performances. Berry
even suggests that ‘“The purely spontaneous, unknowing and unquestioned impulse
is not enough to inspire convincing performance…”’.[20] For
Rink this is problematic because if a performance followed the premises made in
an analysis, it would be the analysis itself the one to validate the
performance. Instead, performance studies would benefit more if it focused on
the separate logics that create a performance.
Disadvantages
As it was
mentioned before, the original performance becomes irretrievable (refer to
quote 6), yet there is more to this. The manipulation of sound and the editing
techniques give more importance to the final product, and not to its
antecedents. Sound is heard as a performance, as communication made in actual
time by a real performer. Recording analysts justify that the way music sounds
cannot be separated from what it is, and also that when music sounds different
it will thus be different. For the already mentioned scholars of recording
analysis, a recording becomes a reality in itself, ‘which generates meanings in its own right’.[21]
Nevertheless there is an ontological problem when stating that a recording has
meaning, when not even compositions can be given a meaning by modern
philosophers. For instance, Peter Kivy suggested that a work cannot be
attributed certain content or meaning, since this would not have enough
credibility to create a case of value.[22]
If this is the case, they do not explain what meaning this may be. Since Cook
has stated that recording analysis must be true through experience, these
analysis get into the domain of aesthetic thought, for experience is a concept
of aesthetics grounded by writers such as Roger Scruton that cannot be analysed
outside its own spectrum of thought. In other words, aesthetics can only
suffice aesthetics.[23]
Expressing experience or a particular internal meaning is left to the performer
and not to the analyst insofar as this person does not perform the piece as
well.
Cook mentions
Schmalfeldt as the analyst and the performer, with no intersection between the
two.
Schmalfeldt readily admits that there are areas
where the analyst Schmalfeldt’s and the performer-Schmalfeldt’s concerns do not
intersect; as she puts it, “it is one thing to consider how we might some day
realize a score, and it is quite another to perform the work”.[24]
The conclusion that it is one thing to analyse and another to
perform, rises; understanding and communication are respectively two very
different things Cook admits is at times overlooked. Theodor W. Adorno already
thought that analysis was a means of enhancing performance and memory and saw
the former as a means of achieving a more secure performance. Performance
analysis is in need of examining and reflecting what performers themselves
could add to the analysis of a recording. In this sense experience can be
pinned down and help trace the boundaries of this type of analysis.
In the section Style Through Timing, I described a section of Funérailles where the three performers change their tempo. To
assert whether they did this because of the markings of the score would fail to
produce a reasonable argument, yet this is a problem analysts have found. Eric
Clarke defines performance as an ordered phenomenon and gives a definition of
this idea, mainly that ‘expression comprises systematic patterns of deviation
from the ‘neutral’ information given in a score, which take the form of
rule-based transformations of canonical values originating in the performer’s
internal representation of the musical structure’.[25] He
believes this statement is not entirely reliable, and straight after expresses
a doubt whether these markings should be regarded as inexpressive just because
they adhere to those instructions. Again there is the problem of Werktrue described earlier by Bowen.
Furthermore, the statement contains many terms
that are problematic in relation to each other, for instance expression. If
expression is a system made of transformed rules of canonic value that
originate from within, it cannot be an internal representation, it already
belongs to the canon and not to the performer. As well, Clarke gives priority
to the representation of structure, what I understand here would be the
relation of one note against the whole, as one example of structural
expression, yet in a performance the acknowledgment of structure as a way to
understand the whole piece is but one factor decided and already practiced. A
performance, depending not on the internal representation[26] but
rather on internal disposition, is a live phenomenon whose direction is
ultimately controlled but cannot be foreseen or entirely predicted.[27] If
this were the case, performances would sound similar if they followed canonic
transformations, thus suggesting that the latter becomes the form.
If performance analysis wishes to unveil
performance practice and recordings, this sort of analysis, just like
score-based analysis, would also be validating performance (refer to Rink in
pages 11-12), yet this time it would be through other performances and not
through experience, as Cook suggested to do. What Schmalfeldt attempted to do
is unify two extremes, which stand in relation to each other by means of
contradiction. For instance, a recording of a work that ignores stylistic norms
and focuses on that internal representation would be classified as incoherent
for the audience, the latter accustomed to hear what it recognises but willing
to be mildly surprised (refer here back to quote 2 of Daniel Leech-Wilkinson).
It is no discovery to see how divided the audience of Liszt was at the time,
shocked or perplexed at his talent. The difference is, recording systems allow
for an interpretation to be seen as unique, and thus one of the possible ways
to perform; it completely establishes a new norm by focusing only on a timeless
fragment that is void of the external factors that contributed to that precise
recording. If aesthetics loose its historical value when attributed to other
musicology fields, performance analysis suffers from going in the same
direction as it can only analyse within the limited parameters a recording
offers. Furthermore, with the term analysis as seen in Bowen, it reduces a
performance to a parabola, measurable as a precise mathematical calculation
while at the same time it attempts to explain an internal representation that
has already been described as a systematic pattern of deviation from
neutrality, and is negating already the part of experience as a value of
analysis.
Conclusion
Having explored the various antagonisms of
studying musical performance as a subject of musicology, a straight forward
conclusion would be that, even if not all the problems seem to be resolved at
first, the research made on performance has opened new debates not only in
musicology but also in the performance world, a union much needed. The writings
of Cook, Bowen, and others have created a musicology that studies recordings as
historical documents, giving more value to the performers themselves. In this respect
performance analysis has given value to one of music’s most important factors,
that of performance, which is for many the beginning reason behind the thoughts
expressed in musicology.
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[1] Nicholas Cook, ‘Analysing Performance and Performing
Analysis’, in Rethinking Music, ed.
by Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999)
239-261, p. 252.
[2] Daniel Leech-Wilkinson, ‘Recordings and Histories of
Performance Style’, in The Cambridge
Companion to Recorded Music, ed. by Nicholas Cook, Eric Clarke, Daniel
Leech-Wilkinson and John Rink (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009),
246 – 263, p. 248.
[3] Nicholas Cook, ‘Music as Performance’, in The Cultural Study of Music: A Critical
Introduction, ed. by Martin Clayton, Trevor Herbert and Richard Middleton
(New York: Routledge, 2003), 205-213, p. 211.
[4] Nicholas Cook, Beyond
the Score: Music as Performance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), p.
6.
[6] Nicholas Cook, Eric Clarke, Daniel Leech-Wilkinson and
John Rink, Introduction, in The Cambridge Companion to
Recorded Music, 1 – 10, p. 4.
[7] José
Antonio Bowen, ‘Tempo, Duration, and Flexibility: Techniques in the Analysis of
Performance’, J. Musicological Research,
16 (1996), 111 – 156, p. 115.
[8] Franz
Liszt, Harmonies Poétiques et religieuses,
ed. Ernst-Günter Heinemann (Münich, Henle, 1999).
[11] Daniel Leech-Wilkinson, ‘Recordings and Histories of
Performance Style’, in The Cambridge
Companion to Recorded Music, p. 253.
[12] Robert
Philip, Early Recordings and Musical
Style, Changing Tastes in Instrumental Performance 1900-1950 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1992), p. 2.
[13] José Antonio Bowen, ‘Performance Practice Versus
Performance Analysis: Why Should Performers Study Performance’, Performance Practice Review, 9 (1996),
16 – 35, p. 19.
[14] Bowen,
‘Performance Practice Versus Performance Analysis: Why Should Performers Study
Performance’, p. 20.
[15] Alan Walker, Franz
Liszt The Virtuoso Years 1811 – 1847, vol I, (Faber and Faber: London,
1983), p. 311.
[16] Bowen,
‘Performance Practice Versus Performance Analysis: Why Should Performers Study
Performance’, p. 28.
[18] Eric Clarke and Mark Doffman, ‘Expressive Performance
in Contemporary Concert Music’, in Empirical
Approaches Across Styles and Cultures, Expressiveness in Music Performance,
ed. by Dorottya Fabia, Renee Timmers and Emery Schubert (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2014) 98 – 114, p. 106.
[19] Liszt was known for
practicing, while his touring years, on a changed piano whose keys were
hardened so that when one played on it, it was very difficult to produce the
normal dynamic and sound, and thus more effort was needed. This technique is
reflected in his compositions, where physical strength demands more of the
pianist.
[20] John
Rink, The Practice of Performance:
Studies in Musical Interpretation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1995), p. 197
[21] Nicholas Cook, Eric Clarke, Daniel Leech-Wilkinson and
John Rink, The Cambridge Companion to
Recorded Music, p. 4.
[22] Kivy
gives the example of Eggebrecht, who believed for instance that the Art of Fugue could indeed have a
specific meaning.
[23] ‘If the aesthetic judgement must be made at
first-hand, it is because it is not a description of a quality. It is, rather,
the expression of the aesthetic experience – and the judgement is sincerely
made only by the person who has the experience expressed by it’, in Roger
Scruton, The Aesthetics of Music,
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), p. 377.
[24] Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist , Rethinking Music, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), p. 246.
[25] Eric
Clarke, ‘Expression in Performance: Generativity, Perception and Semiosis’, in The Practice of Performance: Studies in Musical
Interpretation, ed. by John Rink (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 21- 54, p.
22.
[26] Representation
is also a problematic term related to aesthetics, particularly the writings of
Schopenhauer, who thought music should be representational, again adhering to a
field closely related to linguistics; concepts such performance analysts intend
to resolve.
[27] Refer back to Gould’s Bach in page 2. Furthermore,
in the interview with Gould, Menuhin states that live performances in a concert
hall are compelling and cannot be interrupted in a way a recording can. A
performer’s internal disposition in a recording is thus vastly different from a
concert which cannot be stopped.
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