It is a
fashion of the moment to prize extravagance and to be timid of
perfection. That is why we give the name of artist to those who can
startle us most. We have come to value technique for the violence which
it gives into the hands of those who possess it, in their assault upon
our nerves. We have come to look upon technique as an end in itself,
rather than as a means to an end. We have but one word of praise, and we
use that one word lavishly. An Ysaye and a Busoni are the same to us,
and it is to our credit if we are even aware that Ysaye is the equal of
Busoni.
PACHMANN AND THE PIANO
I
It seems to me that Pachmann is the only pianist who plays the piano as
it ought to be played. I admit his limitations, I admit that he can play
only certain things, but I contend that he is the greatest living
pianist because he can play those things better than any other pianist
can play anything. Pachmann is the Verlaine of pianists, and when I hear
him I think of Verlaine reading his own verse, in a faint, reluctant
voice, which you overheard. Other players have mastered the piano,
Pachmann absorbs its soul, and it is only when he touches it that it
really speaks its own voice.
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