Raymond Lewenthal [II]

Matthew Paris interviews pianist Raymond Lewenthal. Part 2, Reel 1 of 1.

Paris writes of Lewenthal:

Lewenthal had three careers: one as a young pianist; the second as the high priest of the Romantic Revival of classical music in the late 60s and 70s; and a third, as a hermit biographer of Charles-Valentin Alkan. The work was tantalizingly offered in bits, but never finished.

There are four ways a musician can make a living: touring, teaching, writing criticism, and recording. There used to be two other means: one could be appointed music director of a small city, be responsible for all musical activities in it, or one might be supported by a wealthy sybaritic aristocracy such as Monteverdi and Beethoven were, eventually Wagner was as well.

The last two depend on the general cultural taste of the elite one had in Florence and Venice, one that values the Arts and promotes them. Lewenthal did not live in that kind of world. He was perhaps one of the best critics of music, his writing was valued by anyone who loved the craft, yet he didn't produce much of it. He toured very little. I don't know whether he taught or was associated with a university that paid him to be a teacher. An idealist and a maverick, I don't think Lewenthal was equipped to accommodate the kind of suffering of fools that is part of all of these traditional means of providing an income for oneself.

He lived frugally and didn't own more than an upright piano. He was openly critical of the way music was managed and delivered to the public. Industry honchos were, no doubt, not pleased. He wasn't about to be one of the boys who would put up with playing material he didn't like, whatever the pay.

Yet if what he did was only a tantalizing taste of what he was capable of, he was a powerful one-person influence on a classical music world who thanks to his efforts admitted there were many ways to compose great music, some of which had been ejected by the ideological wars in Europe in I the19th and 20th century. Lewenthal crystallized slightly illegitimate hunger in this field for music that aimed not at an intellectual exploration of the corpuscular, murky, and unknown but for impeccable beauty, sardonic humor, that was easily understood and transparency, often with some psychological ingenuity.

Lewenthal brought the great pianist and composer Alkan to the attention of the public Alkan is still not much in the repertory. However, thanks to Lewenthal, editions of his music wittily edited by Lewenthal went into print. Three are an excellent performance of most of his music now available, most not by Lewenthal, often by Roland Smith.

I think Alkan spoke for Lewenthal. Alkan was very French, very Jewish, sardonically funny, something of a hermit and never had the kind of fame he might have had because Alkan didn't tour, did not concertize much, in fact never left Paris. Alkan was very french, very Jewish, finny, something of a hermit and never had the kind of fame he might have had because Alkan didn't tour, did not concertize much, in fact never left Paris. I wish Lewenthal wouldn't have said Alkan's music is hard to play. It isn't. I play it. It does require not merely deft fingers but a broad sense of aesthetics and philosophy that Lewenthal himself had.

If it weren't for Lewenthal, we would not have the revival of the music of Anton Rubinstein, a great composer. Yet Lewenthal only played the fourth concerto in public. He felt the Romantic Revival had fallen into the hands of pianists who didn't love and wrestle with the music, sometimes even merely sightread it badly on recordings for scant money.

Lewenthal never capitalized consistently on any of his considerable talents. Yet he was the progenitor of many attitudes of composers of his time and afterward who felt some contemporary music ways invited audiences to flee the concert halls.

WNYC archives id: 85854