Recordings of the great Anton Rubinstein (Josef Hofmann's teacher) AT THE PIANO?? (from 1890)
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- Опубликовано: 20 дек 2016
- A sample from another triumph by Marston Records' incredible "The Dawn of Recording - The Julius Block Cylinders". This release has been rightfully described as "a "Rosetta Stone" of nineteenth century musical performance practice." This link: www.marstonrecords.com/produc...
displays an Overview, Track Listing, Liner Notes, and an excellent Note From Ward Marston, plus the ability to purchase "The Dawn of Recording".
I: Anton Rubinstein: Zhelaniye (Sehnsucht) Op. 8 No. 5 (0:00)
II: Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: 6 Romances, Op. 38, No. 1 ("Don Juan's Serenade") (2:28)
Composer: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pyotr_I...
Composer: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anton_R...
Composition: Anton Rubinstein: Zhelaniye (Sehnsucht) Op. 8 No. 5
Composition: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Rom...)
Tenor: Vasily Samus
Accompanist?: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anton_R...
Subscribe: ruclips.net/user/subscription_...
Channel: / gregnichols1953
A discussion follows of these recordings, that would have been made when Rubinstein was about sixty years old, two years before he had accepted Josef Hofmann as his only private pupil, the two meeting for 42 sessions in Dresden's Hotel d'Europe. If you know of Hofmann's often-astonishing recordings, consider Hofmann's comments about Anton Rubinstein to Hofmann's pupil, Abram Chasins:
… ”I’m very sorry for you that you never heard my master. Why… I’m a child - all of us put together are infants - compared to his titanic force.”
I noticed this mention in Marston Record's November, 2016 Newsletter that caught my attention:
"A Rubinstein Revelation"
"Eight years ago Marston Records released a three-CD set called The Dawn of Recording, which features early wax cylinder recordings of classical music many of which were made in the 1890s before the advent of commercial recording… These cylinders were recorded by a man named Julius Block whose story is fascinating. Marston Records… feels that this release is perhaps their most significant contribution to the field of historic recording…"
"It is clear from Block's diary that he had tried on several occasions to persuade Anton Rubinstein to make a cylinder, but the great pianist had firmly refused."
(Greg Nichols): However, the CD's booklet mentions that Julius Block's journal "Mortals and Immortals", pp. 21-1 contradicts this:
..."a plot watched between us to take (Rubinstein) by surprise... During that time Safonof and all his guests repeatedly asked him to consent and play into the phonograph. He would not listen to the idea. Pressed by his friends to give his reason, he said that he did not want to have his mistakes immortalized. An hour later Safonof rushed into the room and told (Julius Block) Rubinstein had consented to let me take a record... But then an irreparable catastrophe happened. The accumulator gave out! All hope of recording that evening was gone."
More from Marston's newsletter: "This year Marston Records has received several letters from German pianist and composer, Istvan Horvath-Thomas, who firmly believes that we are hearing Anton Rubinstein accompanying the tenor, Vasily Samus, on CD 3, tracks 7 and 8."
"Our impression when we first heard these two cylinders was that the accompanist was obviously a pianist of the highest order. The way he carries the singer with him is breath-taking. Istvan Horvath-Thomas has taken great pains to decipher the ten-second announcement on track 8 that precedes Samus's singing of Tchaikovsky's Serenade don Juan. He feels that he distinctly hears, ..."nade....Don Juan....Block....es spielt der Titan". In Block's journal, he describes Anton Rubinstein as a "titan", page 56 of the CD booklet."
"Track seven, also sung by Samus, is the song "Longing" by Rubinstein, and it seems quite clear that it is the same pianist on this recording. Mr. Horvath-Thomas observes that the pianist handles the music freely, virtually improvising the accompaniment. In fact, he plays an introduction that is not in the printed music, and improvises again at the end of the cylinder. We can never know for certain whether this is Rubinstein, but given this evidence added to what we hear in the playing, we think it is distinctly possible that Mr. Horvath-Thomas is correct."
Holy cow!! This totally is Anton!!... you found the grail! who else in the world would be that much of a maniac in 1890?.. the second recording would be the performance of a lifetime for an unknown accompanist improvising at the time! Listening to the rhythmic gusto of Brahms’ cylinder a million times, and the pep in Francis Plante’s phrasing (born 1839), or Paderewski’s flair, or the juice in Michalowski’s scales or Pugno’s playing... when I heard this one it has the exact signs of the true master that Liszt even admired. This reminds me of Rachmaninoff on roids.. No doubt to his caliber. I see exactly where Josef Lhevinne got his inspiration from (he aspired to sound like Anton) Saint-Saens is the only other guy that could pull something like this off in accompanying and improvising... You’re so awesome for posting this. We all know the famous Tchaikovsky, Rubinstein and Pabst cylinder of them joking around with recording.. this doesn’t come as a surprise at all. This brings us back to an acoustic recording of someone born in 1829.. the year after Beethoven died! The only thing further are piano rolls of Reinecke (born in 1824). Funny that our only acoustic recording of Debussy is found in accompaniment and so is Cortot’s first recording. So incredible!! Can’t thank you enough for this posting!
Show this to wim winter lol
We live in the most amazing times ! Te touch of this pianist is incredibly intense ! And the tone is fuller than anything you ever heard on old piano recordings ! A Marvel whoever it is. I want to hear Essipova ! and the young Heifetz !
You might also want to check out this incredible 1903 recording of Raoul Pugno playing like a titan ... ruclips.net/video/ecMebSybk6E/видео.html
I just listened to Hofmann right after listening to this and I see an exact resemblance. The energy, the touch, like something is precipitating through the air as they play. You can hear it and feel it. They both have it. There's no way this isn't Anton R.
Whoever is accompanying is a totally extraordinary pianist. I've never heard Don Juan's Serenade's brimstone-lit stormy patterns roared through like this! Diabolique!
This could be Anton Rubinstein. Throughout my life I have been wanting to hear him...
Small chance I think. I wrote a long comment some time ago giving enough reasons why it's quite unlikely, but it was deleted...
pianopera who do you think it could be? A young Josef Hoffman, perhaps?
@pianopera - Hmm, I don't think I deleted it... not sure what happened. Could you possibly repost? Thanks!
It certainly seems strange that, if Rubinstein is the accompanist, his name was not in some way attached to the cylinders, either in the spoken announcement, Block's journal, or even a slip of paper kept with the cylinders. It almost seems like his identity was deliberately concealed. On the other hand, if the singer's performance was made the focus of the recording, Rubinstein may have agreed to play the accompaniment without realizing his performance would be captured: in those early days of sound recording, before commercial records were available, only people like Block would have fully understood the details of the technology. To everyone else, it must have seemed like magic.
This is incredible to hear,just from this little amount,you know your hearing one of the real great.and touch wise I can hear what Hofmann got from his playing.
Incredible to think that one (in the year 2020) can be moved with music played in 1890....I thought Vesti la Giubba with Caruso in 1902 was the earliest recorded music that could engage and impact as much . It is for me the oldest testimony of magically performed music (I wonder if anything around the same time captures so much magic) Such an important recording, thank you for posting!
There's also Brahms playing in 1889
Check out Battistini's 1898 cylinder.
This is unbearably provocative! The piano playing in this recording is vivacious, powerful, with a colorful tone, and those were hallmarks we have read about Rubinstein's playing. The piano performance is far more expressively phrased than that of the earnest tenor. We will never know for certain, but the tell-tale use of the word 'Titan' could not point to any other pianist in the world at that time - only Anton Rubinstein.
The quality is so good for 1890
Great surprise ...oh I really like to think this The great Anton
Vasily Samus also appears on track 6 of the third CD in this Marston set, singing Dargomyzhsky's "I Am in Love, My Maiden, My Beauty" to a VERY enthusiastic audience. Is Rubinstein also thought to be the pianist on this one?
What an interesting recording. I can't think of another pianist that it could be. If it isn't Rubinstein, it's a pianist that's a lot like everyone said Rubinstein was at the time. And there isn't anyone else that anyone said was like Rubinstein. There's a presence and a power in the playing that comes through. One can imagine the furious emotional strength that he would have brought to Islamey or the Appassionata.
Thanks for the thoughtful response! It's someone obviously in total command of the session. What a rhythmic sense, with the same concept of setting a "presiding pace" then departing from it, but always returning to it - as Rubinstein taught Josef Hofmann. And the phrasing...
Like you, I've also been thinking about who else it could have been who might have had such an approach in 1890. I came up with a few possibilities (surely an incomplete list) but I've seen no indication any of them were anywhere near Julius Block's crowd...
Numbers are their ages in 1890:
Sophie Menter 44
Moriz Rosenthal 28
Hans von Bülow 60 (same as Rubinstein)
Leopold Godowsky 20
Camille Saint-Saëns 55
Vladimir de Pachmann 42
Ferruccio Busoni 24
I do suspect the recordings are of Rubinstein, but that's a guy in total command. What a rhythmic sense!
Good analysis! On the list you have come up with, no one has the same style of playing. This is the typical Hoffman bravura style of playing with great variations in tempo, dynamics and the improvisatory style we hear from his live recordings. I suspect it must be Anton. There was obviously a lot of trepidation to record with such primitive equipment, however I feel the urge to hear how one sounded must have been irresistible. Anton possibly recorded and wanted to keep it quiet. The only other possibility is Bulow as we have no recordings of him. However, I don't think he had this style of playing from descriptions. I have heard all the modern youtube versions of the Tchaikovsky song and there is no piano part that even comes close. Interestingly, there is a version of Hvorostovsky singing this with Mikhail Arkadiev as the pianist from 1990. The piano is pretty tame in this recording. The same duo recorded this much later (also on youtube) where the pianist seems to be emulating this so called Anton Rubinstein version. Anyways, all speculation of course as we will never know.
You can't think of another pianist it can be? Exactly how few pianists do you think there were in that day? Do you imagine that only this handful of still known names could play the piano back then? There was a multitude of musical talent around, doubtless a including a multitude of names you will never even hear of. I can't rule out that there's a minute possibility, but if the working is based on the fact that the playing is free and exciting (as if nobody else in the era was capable of that) then the odds are slender indeed.
If you want another name, then you can start with Pabst, who was not only recorded by Block but who played in a free and interesting style (including embellishment). Not that this makes it probable that it's specifically him, but there was clearly no shortage of talent. You can't get to a rational probability of Rubinstein simply by ruling everyone else out. Free playing was not unusual then.
My favorite excerpts from “How “Ruby” Played” by George W. Bagby
(Jud Brownin, when visiting New York, goes to hear Anton Rubinstein and gives the following description of his playing.)
----------------------------------------------------
Well, sir, he had the blamedest, biggest, catty-cornerdest pianner you ever laid eyes on; somethin' like a distracted billiard-table on three legs. The lid was hoisted, and mighty well it was. If it hadn't been, he'd 'a' tore the entire inside clean out and shattered 'em to the four winds of heaven.
Played well? You bet he did; but don't interrupt me. When he first sit down he 'peared to keer mighty little 'bout playin' and wisht he hadn't come. He tweedle-leedled a little on a treble, and twoodle-oodled some on the bass,--just foolin' and boxin' the thing's jaws for bein' in his way… But presently his hands commenced chasin' one another up and down the keys, like a passel of rats scamperin' through a garret very swift….
I was just about to git up and go home, bein' tired of that foolishness, when I heard a little bird waking up away off in the woods and call sleepy-like to his mate, and I looked up and see that Rubin was beginning to take some interest in his business, and I sit down again. It was the peep of day. The light came faint from the east, the breezes blowed gentle and fresh, some more birds waked up in the orchard, then some more in the trees near the house, and all begun singin' together…all the leaves was movin', and flashin' diamonds of dew, and the whole wide world was bright and happy as a king.
Presently the wind turned; it begun to thicken up, and a kind of gray mist came over things; I got low-spirited directly. Then a silver rain began to fall. I could see the drops touch the ground; some flashed up like long pearl ear-rings, and the rest rolled away like round rubies. It was pretty, but melancholy. Then the pearls gathered themselves into long strands and necklaces, and then they melted into thin silver streams, running between golden gravels, and then the streams joined each other at the bottom of the hill, and made a brook that flowed silent… I could smell the flowers in the meadow. But the sun didn't shine, nor the birds sing: it was a foggy day, but not cold.
Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moaned and wept like a lost child for its dead mother… There wasn't a thing in the world left to live for, not a blame thing, and yet I didn't want the music to stop one bit. It was happier to be miserable than to be happy without being miserable. I couldn't understand it. Then, all of a sudden, old Rubin changed his tune. He ripped out and he rared, he tipped and he tared, he pranced and he charged like the grand entry at a circus. 'Peared to me that all the gas in the house was turned on at once, things got so bright… It was a circus and a brass band and a big ball all goin' on at the same time. He lit into them keys like a thousand of brick; he give 'em no rest day or night; he set every livin' joint in me a-goin'…
He had changed his tune again. He played soft and low and solemn. The candles of heaven was lit, one by one; I saw the stars rise. Then the music changed to water, full of feeling that couldn't be thought, and began to drop--drip, drop--drip, drop, clear and sweet, like tears of joy falling into a lake of glory. It was sweeter than that.
He stopped a moment or two to catch breath. Then he got mad. He run his fingers through his hair, he shoved up his sleeve, he opened his coat-tails a leetle further, he drug up his stool, he leaned over, and, sir, he just went for that old pianner. He slapped her face, he boxed her jaws, he pulled her nose, he pinched her ears, and he scratched her cheeks… And then he wouldn't let the old pianner go.
He fetcht up his right wing, he fetcht up his left wing, he fetcht up his center, he fetcht up his reserves. He fired by file, he fired by platoons, by company, by regiments, and by brigades. He opened his cannon,--siege-guns down thar, Napoleons here, twelve-pounders yonder,--big guns, little guns, middle-sized guns, round shot, shells, shrapnels, grape, canister, mortar, mines and magazines, every livin' battery and bomb a-goin' at the same time. The house trembled, the lights danced, the walls shuk, the floor come up, the ceilin' come down, the sky split, the ground rocked… Bang!!!
With that bang! he lifted himself bodily into the a'r, and he come down with his knees, his ten fingers, his ten toes, his elbows, and his nose, striking every single solitary key on the pianner at the same time. The thing busted and went off into seventeen hundred and fifty-seven thousand five hundred and forty-two hemi-demi-semi-quivers, and I know'd no mo'.
The best musical review ever written.
@@iianneill6013 - Pretty hilarious. You know your stuff. Think these recordings could be Anton?
@@GregNichols1953 I ran this by Jack Gibbons, the great Alkan pianist, and his view was that it was likely Anton. I just keep trying to work out who else it could have been. Hofmann, Barere, and Pugno could have played at the same speed and with the same control and clarity but (a) they weren't present at the recording and (b) there is an aggressive and volatile power to the performance which sounds like a different pianist.
@Christoph: Thanks so much for the URL to the document about these recordings, Christoph! The document in the Tchaikovsky Society, "There are no sound recordings of Anton Rubinstein. Or are there?":
www.tschaikowsky-gesellschaft.de/index_htm_files/133-139%20Mitt%202016%20Horvath-Thomas%20Flamm.pdf
includes some interesting contemporary descriptions of Rubinstein's performance style (please excuse the translation):
His [Rubinstein's] playing was, taken all in all, the most wonderful I have ever heard. A delicate, even, round tone, combined with irresistible fire....
He could play with tremendous power, sometimes with such vehemence as threatened disaster to the wires, and, on the other hand, his melody-playing which is characterized by a delightful singing quality, for with all his energy, which sometimes appeared ferocious, he still had great beauty of tone.
… the violence with which he attacks in octaves, jumps... The tenderness of his softly breathy ornaments, the noble breadth of his carried song, are no less than his real bravura, flowers of a technique developed to the highest degree.
As Horvath-Thomas mentions, "All this can be heard in the mentioned recordings from 1890!"
As for me, I'd bet the recordings are of Rubinstein, mainly because I don't know who else it could have been.
However, subjective "arguments" about performance styles likely cannot get us to a definitive answer. What could, however, would be the fruits of more dreary but necessary archival research:
Did Rubinstein himself ever write about these recordings?
He didn't in his Autobiography (I checked), but perhaps in an authenticated letter to someone he corresponded with?
Or what about correspondence from Julius Block, or the singer Samus, or the technician, anyone else in the room during the sessions?.
Or even "a reliable source" who was not in the room but did hear from someone who was there that Rubinstein was the pianist... then wrote about it somewhere?
@Greg: Thank you for giving excerpts in English translation! For those who want to study the recordings with score in their hands: In the mentioned article in the journal of the Tchaikovsky Society, I was able to correct the identification of the first of the two songs, "Longing": It is not "Duyut vetry" ["Sturmeswinde"] op. 27 no. 9 (as indicated in the CD booklet), but "Zhelaniye" ["Sehnsucht"] op. 8 no. 5.
well if it is it certainly is a treasure
I camt find the first song "longing" anywhere. Is this Rubinsteins composition if so why is there nothing about it???
From Christoph Flamm's clarification above... In the mentioned article in the journal of the Tchaikovsky Society, I was able to correct the identification of the first of the two songs, "Longing": It is not "Duyut vetry" ["Sturmeswinde" - "Storm winds"] op. 27 no. 9 (as indicated in the CD booklet), but "Zhelaniye" ["Sehnsucht" - "nostalgia"] op. 8 no. 5.
Counter intuitively, if there is considerable deviation from the written score it could be the composer himself. A regular pianist would probably have played it straight. Rubinstein would have no inhibition about making changes.
What’s the second piece?
6 Romances, Op. 38: No. 1, Don Juan's Serenade
What is the first piece ?
It is Rubinstein's lieder "Longing", Op. 27 No. 9
@ MrAalin1 - I misspoke. As per Christoph Flamm (a real subject matter expert):
For those who want to study the recordings with score in their hands: In the mentioned article in the journal of the Tchaikovsky Society, I was able to correct the identification of the first of the two songs, "Longing": It is not "Duyut vetry" ["Sturmeswinde"] op. 27 no. 9 (as indicated in the CD booklet), but "Zhelaniye" ["Sehnsucht"] op. 8 no. 5.
GregNichols1953 thank you very much.
Indeed, this recording displays the qualities of both Josef Lhévinne's clear tone and Mark Hamburg's free-spirited playing. Given that the former was strongly influenced by the great Anton Rubinstein, and that the latter was described by his teacher Leschetizky as "most like Anton Rubinstein's pianism," it is clear that the pianist on this recording is Rubinstein. It is hard to imagine that it is not.
The above reasoning is similar to discussing the Byzantine conspiracy behind the so-called "Sicilian Vespers." It is unfortunate that there is no physical evidence, but the human imagination can sometimes bring to light and reconstruct undocumented historical facts...
Is this actually from 1890?!
Indeed it is from 1890... 128 years ago ;)
Who is singing ? Who's voice ?
Tenor: Vasily Samus. It's in the Description section above.
@@GregNichols1953 oh,thanks
Nous n'aurons jamais ni Liszt ni Chopin ni Mozart 🥺
русская легенда
Мислиш ли да је рубинштајн био за тастатуром? Знам , али не могу то да докаћем.
2:20 Lol
Nobody knows 😏
Not true at all. There is no call for cynical skepticism.
Not enough evidence to support the Rubinstein identification. The wish is father to the thought.
Hofmann was not as good, though.