For the music brought forward by the visit of the composer who
is at present in this country as envoy of his school, convinces us that
the work of the men of his party, elegant and brilliant as it often is,
is the work of men essentially unresponsive to the appeal of their
compatriots. For them, as it is for every Russian musician, Russia was
without their windows, appealing dumbly for expression of its wild,
ungoverned energy, its misery, its rich and childish laughter, its deep,
great Christianity. It wanted a music that would have the accents of its
rude, large-hearted speech, and that would, like its speech, express
its essential reactions, its consciousness. And some men there were,
Moussorgsky and Borodin, who were quick enough of imagination to become
the instruments of their folk and respond to its need. And so, when we
would hear Russian speech, we go to them as we go to Dostoievsky and to
Tolstoy. It is in "Boris" and "Prince Igor" as richly as it is in any
work. But the men of the other school did not hear the appeal. They sat
in their luxurious and Parisian houses behind closed windows.
Scriabine
There are solemn and gorgeous pages in the symphonic poems of Scriabine.
And yet, despite their effulgence, their manifold splendors, their
hieratic gestures, these works are not his most individual and
significant.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182