Amerikai Magyar Szó, 1982. július-december (36. évfolyam, 26-49. szám)
1982-12-16 / 47. szám
Thursday, Dec. 16. 1982. AMERIKAI MAGYAR SZO 7 It seems that people need the perspective of about a hundred or so years to come to grips with the significance and grandeur of artists — composers who lived in their midst, sometimes quite unnoticed, during the ordinary course of their lives. Granted, a few of these geniuses received recognition toward thd end of their lives—if they managed to live long enough, like Picasso or Stravinsky—but most of them had to wait for a centenary, either of their birth or death, to be properly recognized and celebrated. In the domain of music, Hungary had its share of giants, and no sooner has the Bartók centenary ended—commemorating, in 1981, his 100th year of birth with a most significant series of festivals and concerts all over the globe—than we find that his peer and closest friend, Zoltán Kodály, who happens to share his 100th birth year with Stravinsky and Szymanowski in 1982, has come up for celebration. His birthday is the 16th of December, and many of us feel that both as a creative artist and an admirably endowed human being Kodály fully deserves all the devotion and recognition that is due to only the greatest. It was my good fortune to have grown up in Budapest during the years when both Kodály and Bartók were active as professors at the Liszt Academy. Bartók (who, incidentally, never taught composition) was my piano teacher, and I majored in composition, too, as a student of Kodály. It might be presumptuous to call this the "golden era” of music in Hungary, but these were the days when also Dohnányi, Hubay, and Leo Weiner were active in steering the future of some of the most outstanding young Hungarian talents, many of whom—in due time- gained world recognition. True, between the two World Wars, the political and economic conditions of the country were quite disastrous, but* Art never had it better. Sparse Words My personal recollections of Kodály are varied, vivid, and certainly very • valuable. They span over 38 years and include innumerable little remarks, comments, and assessments he uttered during my three-times-a-week, five-yearlong studies at the Liszt Academy, also during private conversations—sparsely worded as they were at the beginning— in Budapest and subsequently during his visits in London and the United States. I was about 17 years old when I first met him, duly awed by the presence of a bearded, quite morose, but peculiarly striking-looking apparition, who hardly took notion of anything else but what he considered to be the bare essence, the core of what one tried to tell him. No extra frills, no extra words were ever, used, no "good morning,” "good afternoon,” or even a goodbye at the end of the scholastic year. The teaching schedule was rigorous, with classes held three times a week for five academic years. No introductory explanation or information was ever given to the material to be studied or composed, but the subsequent comments were crystal clear, razor sharp, sometimes quite devastating or humorous, depending on the produce of the student. By György Sándor Kodály, his wife Sarolta, and György Sándor at Interlochen University, 1966. I remember vividly one such utter- ance: One of my colleagues presented Kodály with a rather lengthy, elaborately developed orchestral composition. After a few minutes of thorough examination, there came—in his customary, rather high-pitched voice—the Maestro’s verdict: "This is just like a colon...The "composer,” my colleague, froze, gasped, and stared in disbelief. He knew a more detailed explanation would have to follow such a cryptic statement. It did: "This piece is a juxtaposition of a series of ring-like fragments, without a semblance of cohesion. The musical material is supposed to be developed organically and organized into one structure.” As always, Kodály was right. ___ ____________ His approach of teaching composition was predominantly on the analytical side. We had to analyze and thoroughly assimilate all the existing forms and styles in music. We were supposed to be able to write in any composer’s style before attempting to develop our own. The inevitable result of this approach was that nearly all of us spent most of our time in this first stage, familiarizing ourselves with most of the baroque, classic, Romantic, impressionistic, expres- sionistic, contemporary, and avant-garde styles and composers—and that was it. Very few of us became full-fledged composers, and, I must say, this was just as well! The world has more than enough epigones, enough conscious and unconscious imitators of real composers. What it does need is original creativity, not more eclecticism. Compositional Purification There was smother noticeable trend in Kodály’s teaching and composing. Both he and Bartók drew from the purest sources of folklore, ecclesiastical music, and art music. They were never revolutionary in the ordinary sense of the _ word, but they developed all the funda- • mental aspects in an evolutionary sense. They did reject and eliminate all that was superfluous, repetitious, stagnating material, all that was unoriginal, dated, and mannered in music, be this in the melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, coloristic, or formalistic sense. This process of healthy purification, of getting rid of the excesses of pseudo-Romanticism, led them both into the avant-garde school of the day; this was not just "different” and "contemporary” in the journalistic sense, but as complete and expressive as it was original and authentic. Their music was new, but had healthy roots as well as a forward direction. Both Bartók and Kodály were well aware of the current, arbitrarily fabricated techniques of composition that polluted and distracted more than a generation of our contemporary musical scene, but they both unequivocally rejected the widespread and sterile doctrines of dodecaphonism, atonality, bitonality, and polytonality. These compositional techniques had validity as self- imposed disciplines, as intellectual or mental exercises, but, being founded on purely arbitrary and false premises, they never missed the infallible instincts and wisdom of a Bartók, Kodály, or, for that matter, of Prokofiev, Shostakovich, and others. May I not dwell any more on this matter, since my central topic is Kodály. But I’d like to quote one of his rather enlightening remarks made during his last visit in the U. S., during the Fall of 1966, when I spent some time with him and with Mrs. Kodály in New York City. I brought up the subject of atonality, polytonality, etc., and their possible role in the future of music. His reaction was: "Tonality is like a highway. If you abandon it, you’ll lose your way. You’d better stay with it___” He added that it is quite obvious that there are many significant areas in tonal writing that have not been explored as yet. As usual, he was right. The Kodály Method The Kodály Method for teaching beginners became well known all over the- world and has made his name quite a household article by now. This, in a way, is a mixed blessing, since one finds that there are far too many people who are familiar with the Kodály Method but who have never heard any of his compositions! Since there are many more people involved with music on the grassroots level, they vastly outnumber the advanced musicians who admire Kodály not only as a successful pedagogue but as one of the inspired creators of the century. Nevertheless, I believe Kodály would not resent this situation, since during the last years of his life he seemed to do his utmost to bring music to the children at their earliest age. His dream was to build a bond within all mankind through the beauty of music. Where else would he begin than with children? Many of us would see him walking on the streets of Budapest surrounded by admiring children asking him for an autograph. Kodály would scribble a few notes on.' piece of paper and give it to them to sing the music aloud—according to the Method. If they didn’t sing correctly, no autograph was given, only a gentle scolding. However, time has come to realize that much of the great music Kodály wrote is far too infrequently performed. The centenary provides a good opportunity for all of us performers to feature his lovely songs, his beautiful instrumental music, stage works, symphonic and choral works—some of which rate with the greatest in the 20th century. His output wasn’t as large as Bartók’s, but always on the highest level. And it ought to be known how many times Bartók em- _ braced some of Kodály’s musical ideas and how unselfishly Kodály gave Way to him. In 1923, when Hungary’s three most important composers, Dohnányi, Bartók, and Kodály, were commissioned by the Hungarian government to write a major work for the commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the unification of Buda and Pest, Kodály was practically ready with his beautiful set of orchestral dances, the Marosszék Dances. When he became aware that Bartók had decided to write his own set of dances, the Dance Suite, he put aside his composition and subsequently came forth with one of his masterpieces, the Psalmus Hungaricus, for the Buda-Pest celebration. Kodály’s first marriage was a very blessed and a very long one. When his wife, Emma, passed away, she was 97 years old and Kodály was 76. To the expression of my condolences I received a very depressed response from a very heartbroken Kodály. Little did I expect the happy news of his subsequent marriage to the lovely, young Sarolta not too many months afterwards! She remained with him till the end of his life, and she accompanied him through his two last American trips too. Kodály died in 1967. During the following years, Sarolta continued her musical studies and now has turned into an outstanding, beautifully endowed soprano, who is becoming very active in the concert field. There surely is no one who is as convincing and authoritative a performer of Kodály’s vocal music as his widow. While she participates very actively in the promotion of the Kodály Method, her main interest seems to be the revitalization of performances of Kodály’s music. Amongst Kodály’s remarkable human qualities was an infallible and prodigious memory. He remembered every note he ever heard, every word that was said, and we knew better than to try to bring in a theme or fragment of a composition that we had presented him at a previous class. When we did, there was trouble! Another prodigious facet of his concentrating power was that he was able to listen to music, to read another score, to keep an eye on the blackboard where someone was writing music, and to answer questions put to him, all at the same time. This mental alertness lasted till his very last days. His physical abilities were spectacular too. At the age of 50 he started to learn figure skating and became quite competent At the age of 84, when he last visited the U. S., we went swimming in a lake at Interlochen, Mich., and I am sad to admit that I was left way behind. A particularly touching souvenir I will always cherish is a birthday message he sent me on September 21, 1966, from Washington, D. C., just a few months before he passed away. It said: "I wish you many more happy birthdays—but slowly! Live slowly and you will live longer...Signed Zoltán Kodály and Mrs. Zoltán Kodály. Well, he certainly knew how to, and he certainly did. ■ György Sándor graduated from the Liszt Academy in Budapest, having studied piano with Bartók and composition with KodAijr. He actively concertizes on six continents, and his book On Piano Playing, a comprehensive description of technique and interpretation, was recently published by Schirmer. Among his many recordings are the complete solo piano music of Bartók (winner of the Grand Prix du disque), Kodály, and Prokoßev, all on Vox/Tumabout On Dec 3, 1982 Mr. Sándor was awarded the Order of the Banner by the Hungarian People's Republic.
