Perennial Rubinstein, Late- Blooming Barlow

The program was, of course, all born soprano whose career has been a Perennial Chopin. It was not always the fastest or history of one German opera house after the cleanest, the most sparkling or the another for much of a decade. When she Rubinstein, Late- least effortful, of performances of the took over at the Metropolitan in Febru Sonata in B Minor, the Ballade in F ary 1971 as Leonore in Fidelio, for which Blooming Barlow Minor, the Nocturne in D-flat Major, or Catarina Ligendza was scheduled (in sundry preludes and études we have credibly, the same soprano whose ab by Irving Kolodin heard. To pretend that it was would sence put Chapin in his dilemma), Sat belie the heroic deeds and the legendary urday Review readers were told of “an rtur Rubinstein may be the oldest accomplishments by which his white American soprano all but unknown A■ young pianist ever to play in public. mane has been earned. It was, however, here. This is not a condition likely to en By long-standing documentation he was the richest, ripest kind of self-expression: dure much longer, for the tall, clear born on January 28, 1886. That would resounding in its individuality, evocative voiced Miss Barlow . survived the put his age at his most recent appear (in its penetration of essence) of a whole exacting introduction with considerable ances in New York only days under school of pianism. Those to whom Hof credit.” The “bright, strong voice” is still eighty-eight. That amounts to one year mann and Rosenthal, Paderewski and “not big enough to conquer an audi for every key of the piano, which he has Godowsky, are no more than inanimate torium of the Metropolitan’s size with lived with, and by, for eight decades. names on record labels were hearing, in out strain,” but she sang the music on One verity is beyond question. No mat Rubinstein, the last of this breed of time and in pitch under firm vocal con ter how long he continues to pursue his giants, whose like history cannot, and trol, and with a sense of dramatic purpose pattern of annual appearances in Amer will not, produce. that blossomed as the initial pressures re ica, he will be a perennial among pianists, In some of the performances enumer laxed. Her Liebestod would have fared an evergreen among artists. Such is the ated above—especially in the sonata— better with a more flexible conductor nature of his endowment, his metabolism, one had the sensation that Rubinstein was than Erich Leinsdorf, whose large-scale and his attitude that his music making invoking a retrospect of all those who sense of orchestral values remained in ef will always flow from the springtime of had played these notes before. The per fect no matter what. But the late-bloom life, whatever the leaves of the calendar formance was measured, deliberate, at an ing Barlow has the worst of her ordeal may contend. overall pace that suited the sustained behind her and can now move confidently No one who spent the hours from song of the Largo better than it did the ahead. □ three to five with him in Avery Fisher volatile propulsion of the opening Al Hall on that Sunday afternoon in Janu legro maestoso. Was it a pace chosen to ary had ever heard anything quite like it. lessen difficulties? Perhaps. But to play At his entrance, he was all business— deliberately and with clarity, at a slower serious, quietly responsive to the ap pace, may be to intensify, rather than to plause that greeted him from all sides alleviate, the problem of keyboard con (the hall was, of course, full, and there trol. It was, for me, rather a matter of were as many seated on stage as the law mood and intent that the story he told in allows). Immaculate as always, in tail the later Ballade in F Minor harked coat, fawn-colored vest, and decorously back to “old, unhappy, far-off things and sparkling stickpin, he peered into the battles long ago.” But the ensuing group piano keyboard with a slight sugges of études showed that the deep well of tion of “What am I doing here?” then power that Rubinstein always holds in re launched into a performance of Chopin’s serve had not run dry. Those who heard Scherzo in B-flat Minor that was shat him on these occasions need no assur tering in its decisiveness and impact— ances of past accomplishments to tell when decisiveness and impact were in their offspring that they did, indeed, hear order—melting in the graciousness and the great Rubinstein. generosity of its melodic formulation. It was on grand lines, with the sense of At another end of the chronological spaciousness below and firmament above scale during the same period, Schuyler that has been, for all these years, the Chapin, the Metropolitan’s youthful gen ground plan of Rubinstein’s musical uni eral manager, came of instant age by risk verse. Two hours later he paused for a ing the season’s first Tristan with an un moment before the final measures of the tried Isolde. Some, including myself, (had Chopin Polonaise in A-flat Major, then I been asked, which I was not) would dispatched them with a thunder of em have counseled caution and a recourse to phasis and a volley of tone that will re some other, safer repertory. But Chapin verberate in the ears of those who heard refused to run scared, and as a result of it as long as they have the power of mem his own observations and musical judg ory. Then, to a truly overpowering ac ment during rehearsals, matured an Isolde colade from his listeners, he strode off, who can be an asset to the Met, and to jaunty and smiling, having satisfied his other theaters worldwide indefinitely. most demanding auditor—himself. She is Klara Barlow, an American- SR/World • 2/23/74 43.

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