He could tell
you little more; but, if you saw his hands settle on the keys, and fly
and poise there, as if they had nothing to do with the perturbed,
listening face that smiles away from them, you would know how little he
had told you. Now let us ask Godowsky, whom Pachmann himself sets above
all other pianists, what he has to tell us about the way in which he
plays.
When Godowsky plays he sits bent and motionless, as if picking out a
pattern with his fingers. He seems to keep surreptitious watch upon
them, as they run swiftly on their appointed errands. There is no errand
they are not nimble enough to carry without a stumble to the journey's
end. They obey him as if in fear; they dare not turn aside from the
straight path; for their whole aim is to get to the end of the journey,
having done their task faultlessly. Sometimes, but without relaxing his
learned gravity, he plays a difficult game, as in the Paganini
variations of Brahms, which were done with a skill as sure and as
soulless as Paganini's may have been. Sometimes he forgets that the
notes are living things, and tosses them about a little cruelly, as if
they were a juggler's balls.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209