ROYAL FESTIVAL HALL General Manager ; T. E. Bean

LONDON PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA LTD. by arrangement with WILFRID VAN WYCK LTD.

presents ARTUR RUBINSTEIN with the

LONDON PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA

Leader - - Joseph Shad wick

Conductor : SIR ADRIAN BOULT

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 27th, 1955 at 8 p.m.

4 Programme One Shilling ARTUR RURINSTEIN ARTUR RUBINSTEIN “ The man and his music enrich the lives of people everywhere ” by HOWARD TAUBMAN Music Editor of the New York Times

Artur Rubinstein is a complete artist because he is a whole man. It does not matter whether those who go to his concerts are ear-minded or eye-minded—or both. His performances are a comfort to, and an enlargement of, all the faculties in the audience. And he has the choice gift of being able to convey musical satisfaction—even exaltation— to all conditions of listeners from the most highly trained experts to the most innocent of laymen. The reason for this is that you cannot separate Artur Rubinstein the man from Artur Rubinstein the musician. Man and musician are indivisible, as they must be in all truly great and integrated interpreters. You know this at once when you meet Rubinstein off the concert platform, and you know it beyond any shadow of doubt when you hear him play. It has been written that Rubinstein represents the last of a great line of magnetic virtuosos who were in the ascendant in the nineteenth century and who made their last stand in the first half of the twentieth. It has been added nostalgically that he owes his special position in the musical world to the expansive, romantic flair he has carried over from a departed age. Such an analysis is only partly true. Rubinstein has the romantic flair, all right, but his stature as an artist as well as his hold on the public are based: on other qualities. He is a modern man, too. He does not dramatize himself as a Liszt or as Paderewski did. He does not posture or theatricalize himself or his work in public, as a lesser figure might, to live up to a naive picture of what a virtuoso should be. He happens to be a thoughtful, alert, sensitive, generous-hearted, civilized human being who expresses himself through music. Call him a universal man, and you will be nearest the mark. He would be at home in any place or time where cultivated values are respected. And the fact is that he has been hailed as an artist and admired as a man all over the world. In his decades as a public performer he has appeared, it has been estimated, in every country except Tibet. The breadth of Rubinstein’s sympathies are inescapable in the concert hall. He plays music of all periods and lands and to each he gives its due. Because Rubinstein was born in Poland, he has a special fellow-feeling for the music of Chopin and he recreates it with glowing conviction. But he is not simply a Chopin specialist, which would be accom­ plishment enough. He plays Bach and Beethoven, Schubert and Schumann, Brahms and Debussy and a host of other composers of past and present with equal felicity. Rubinstein has a commanding technique. He can make the piano do whatever he wishes, but his aim is never to show off his virtuosity. His technical command is the servant of his art. He has the rarest of gifts of being able to play all kinds of music with eloquence. He can project his imagination into each creative world, as if he were a citizen of that world. And that is the test of the complete artist and the whole man. Rubinstein is secure in his knowledge, and on the concert platform he conveys the impression of a man who has achieved serenity. This has misled some observers into thinking that he has no nerves, and some have gone so far as to say that he lacks the necessary ingredient of tension. You have only to hear the excitement of his playing to know that he projects tremendous tension, but it is the tension of an enormously powerful steel spring under full control. You have only to talk to him to realize that he is as subject to nervous pressure as the rest of us. I heard him recall once that a young musician had boasted to him “ Playing in public doesn’t worry me at all, I have no nervousness.” Rubinstein’s response was, “ How lucky you are ! I wish you could teach me your secret.” It is almost bromidic to say that an artist conveys in his art the sum of what he has absorbed from life. But this truth needs to be emphasized in the instance of music because people with little knowledge or experience of this art may fail to see the connection. In the case of Rubinstein it is not only important to be aware of the connection; it must be grasped thoroughly, for Rubinstein, as much as any interpreter around today, reflects in his musical per­ formances the kind of life he has lived and the kind of man he is. Born in Warsaw, he was the youngest of seven children in a family that was well-to-do; his father owned a hand­ loom factory. At 3 Artur showed an aptitude for music. Offered a fiddle several times, he smashed it. By the age of 8, he was ready to impress the distinguished violinist, Joseph Joachim, with his progress at the piano. Young Artur’s sister happened to be travelling to Berlin to prepare for her marriage at this time, and took the lad along. Joachim heard him and put him under the care of Heinrich Barth, who had studied with Bulow, Taussig and Liszt. When he was 11, Artur made his formal debut in Berlin in a Mozart concerto, with Joachim conducting the orchestra. Artur, a cheerful, outgoing boy who had come from a happy home environment, seems to have relished the excitements of a prodigy's success for a time. He had played all over Germany and Poland, once in Warsaw under the direction of Emil Mlynarski, distinguished conductor, whose daughter, Aniela, not yet born was destined to become Mrs. Rubinstein. During this period Joachim sent Artur to visit Paderewski, the giant of his time at the keyboard, and Paderewski, delighted with the young fellow’s ability and personality, prevailed on him to prolong his visit to three months. At the age of 16, Artur made his first foray into America. In January, 1906, he played in Philadelphia with the Philadelphia Orchestra and a few days later with the same orchestra in New York. He played a lot of concerts in the United States, but the response was far from ecstatic. Later on he could sum up the reaction plhilosophically by explaining, “ I was not a prodigy any more, and I was not a mature artist. The critics were severe, much too severe. I thought I had lost America forever.” He returned to Europe and for the next few years seemed to drop out of sight. When he appeared in Berlin in 1910 he explained to friends who inquired where he has been, “ Oh, I have been dead for a few years.” Actually, the experience of those years amounted to a new birth. He spent most of his time in Paris, in those “ missing years”. He studied some, and met a great many men and women of all stations and backgrounds. He saw and did things that an adolescent ripening into manhood could see and do with profit, provided he has the energy and intelligence to profit from them. Rubinstein did profit. Later he was able to say that he was occupied in “ hurdling the greatest obstacle in the path of a prodigy, that of shedding my immaturity.” Back in the concert swirl, success again greeted him in Europe. By 1914 he had toured all over the continent and his temperament had made his piano playing the sesame to acceptance everywhere. When the war broke out he was in London, where his knowledge of languages enabled him to find work as an interpreter for the Allies. Then he concertized for the Allies in joint appearances with Eugene Ysaye. A desk job could not consume the energies of this young man. In 1916 he went to Spain for a handful of concerts and remained to give 120. If Rubinstein is a musician with confidence in himself, the Spanish chapter could not but have reinforced this feeling. He became friendly with the royal family ; he was invited to the royal palace for frequent dinners. Suddenly he was surrounded by money and success even he had not dreamed of. He admitted later that his technique was a bit erratic, but there was no need to bother about cleaning it up in the face of such adulation. It is the measure of Rubinstein’s capacity for continuous growth that later on he took himself in hand and drove himself to iron out the deficiencies. But the impact of Spanish success remained on the Rubinstein career: in later years South America took him to its heart with a similar brand of Latin expansiveness and affection. In February, 1919, Rubinstein confronted New York again. He was well received, expecially by the elements of the press. He returned from time to time until 1927, but for reasons difficult to grasp he did not capture the hearts and imagination of the American people as he was to do later on. It was not, -in fact, until his return in 1937—he had not played here (America) for ten years by this time—that he made an all-conquering return. This time he came back under the managership of S. Hurok. At once he was hailed as one of the great living musicians. His fees and his engagements multiplied. His field of activity widened to include an occasional film and radio appearance where he won his way not only as a pianist but as a charming figure as a guest with the redoubtable " Information, Please ” panel of experts. Was it America or Rubinstein that had changed ? It may be that the United States, which has a way of remaining faithful to its pianistic heroes, was more devoted to people like Paderewski, Rachmaninoff, Hofmann. It may also be that changes had occurred in Rubinstein. An important event had taken place in his life in 1932. He had married Aniela Mlynarski. Soon he began to have a family. There are four children : Eva, born in Buenos Aires in 1933 ; Paul, born in Warsaw in 1935 ; Aline, born in Hollywood in 1945, and John Arthur, arrived in Hollywood in 1946. Rubinstein is a firm advocate of love and marriage. Both helped him as an artist. “ Suddenly,” he once recalled " I became conscious of every wrong note.” He and his new bride went in 1932 to a small chalet in the Alps, and in a garage he worked away at an upright piano, practising more intensely than he had ever done before. With the self-knowledge of maturity, he knew how to make every moment count. He found that work in itself was rewarding. He gained even greater technical assurance and, perhaps more important, he reached for and began to achieve new interpretive peaks. Here we have one of the great secrets of Rubinstein’s growing dominion over public taste. He has never ceased to grow. Driven by his own tremendous gusto and relish for life, he translated it into an ever-increasing breadth of musical vision. He dared to strive for the large simplicity, shucking off mannerisms that are the attributes of lesser artists. It may be said of him what was said of the venerable Benjamin Franklin, “ The older the bolder.” And the better musically. Rubinstein embraces life as ardently as he does music. “ I happen to be born with a terrific vitality,” he has said. “ I am happy unconditionally. Life holds so much—so much to be happy about always. Most can only be felt if you don’t ask any conditions.” And Rubinstein can find happiness in all situations. He likes the company of all kinds of people, and he is at home with workers and creators in all the arts, with business men. politicians, taxi-drivers, waiters, diplomats, heads of state. He lias gaiety in social encounters. He has a fund of stories and he knows how to tell them in any one of his arsenal of languages. He can also act them out with gestures and facial expressiveness that add to the jest. In his travels all over the world he has been not merely a tourist passing through a strange land, but an absorbed student. Rubinstein is business-like about his artistic commitments and artistic in the affairs of living. When he first appeared in a film studio, there was trepidation that a temperamental virtuoso would make trouble. He took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and said “ Let’s make some music In the recording studio—he is one of the best sellers in the glittering stable of Victor recording artists—he knows how to work with dispatch, and he knows equally well how to take a spacious breather. In his personal life he lives in the grand manner, not from affectation but because it is native to him. He smokes Havana cigars specially blended for him and drinks the finest wines and cognacs. His home in Hollywood—he calls it his thirty-second “ permanent home ”—is a blend of elegance and simplicity. It is a proper setting for a man of his parts. But much as he adores being in it with his family, he could not remain long away from his concert rounds. Making music is in his blood, and the joy of reaching countless thousands of people through this music is ample reward for the difficulties of trouping. No one place could confine a richly varied personality like Rubinstein. It is well that this should be so. For the man and his music enrich the lives of people everywhere. Lafayette Ltd. SIR ADRIAN BOULT ROYAL FESTIVAL HALL General Manager: T. E. Bean

Thursday, October 27th, 1955 at 8 p.m. PRO GRAMME

Piano Concerto No. 5 in E flat (Emperor) - Beethoven

Piano Concerto in A minor - Schumann

INTER V AL

Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor - Rachmaninoff

Solo Pianoforte : ARTUR RUBINSTEIN

with the

LONDON PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA Leader : Joseph Shad wick

Conductor: SIR ADRIAN BOULT

(i) The public may leave at the end of the performance or exhibition by all exit doors and such doors must at that time be open. (ii) All gangways, corridors, staircases and external passageways intended for exit shall be kept entirely free from obstruction, whether permanent or temporary. (iii) Persons shall not be permitted to stand or sit in any of the gangways intersecting the seating, or to sit in any of the other gangways. If standing be permitted in the gang­ ways at the sides and rear of the seating, it shall be limited to the numbers indicated in the notices exhibited in those positions. The London Philharmonic Orchestra is in association with the Arts Council of Great Britain

PROGRAMME NOTES (Copyright)

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN

Piano Concerto No. 5 in E flat (Emperor) Beethoven (1770-1827) Allegro Adagio un poco mosso Rondo : Allegro Beethoven's fifth and last Piano Concerto, known in this country as the Emperor,” was composed in Vienna in 1809, during the occupation of that city by the French, and first performed late in 1811 at Leipzig. Its first production in Vienna, with Czerny as soloist, took place in 1812 at a concert for the benefit of the Society of Noble Ladies for Charity, where it was faced by competition in the shape of tableaux representing three pictures by Raphael, Poussin and Troyes. “ The pictures,” said one who was present, “ offered a glorious treat; the concerto was a failure.” Later generations have reversed this verdict, and the concerto is now probably the most popular of the five. The work begins in an unconventional manner. Three fortissimo chords in the full orchestra asserting the key of E flat are split up by the pianoforte into arpeggio figures and florid scale passages in a sort of unbarred cadenza eventually leading directly into the first subject. This is a vigorous theme with a characteristic “ turn ” which plays a large part in subsequent develop­ ments. The second subject is first played staccato and in the minor by the strings, then legato and in the major by the horns. When the exposition is complete the pianoforte enters with a rising chromatic scale, and the opening tutti is repeated while the pianoforte adds its own comments. The development which follows is again preceded by the quiet chromatic scale. It makes much play with the “ turn ” and with fierce octave passages from the pianoforte, imitated by the strings, and eventually arrives at the three chords of the introduction, with their pianoforte commentary. The opening tutti is now recapitulated, and the chord, followed by a pause, is reached which usually heralds an extemporized cadenza. Beethoven, however, writes in the score, " Do not insert a cadenza, but go straight on with the following,” and the pianoforte begins to discuss the first and second subjects. Soon, however, horns join in, followed gradually by the whole orchestra. The quiet rising scale—" Beethoven’s chromatic scales,” said Schumann, “ are not like other people’s ”—leads to a triumphant close. The slow movement, in B major, is straightforward in structure, being based almost entirely on the solemn theme heard at the outset on muted violins, and the descending passage for pianoforte which follows it. The pianoforte states its own ornamented version of the main theme, which is then taken over by the woodwind against a wavy filigree in the pianoforte. This dies away to a single octave B held by the bassoons, falling to a B flat in the horns, while the pianoforte whispers in a hesitant manner the main theme of the ensuing Rondo. This theme, with its characteristic rhythm, in one guise or another pervades the greater part of the last movement. After its statement by the pianoforte and then by the full orchestra, there is a short episode ; the rondo theme then returns and is varied successively in C major, fortissimo, in A flat, pianissimo, and in E major, pianissimo. At length the main theme, uttered in broken phrases, this time by the orchestra, ushers in a repetition of the whole of the first section. The coda is notable for a striking drum rhythm, derived from part of the rondo theme, over which the pianoforte quietly meditates. Finally, with some rushing scales the pianoforte brings in the orchestra to end the work with a few bars based on the now familiar rhythm of the main theme.—R.G. Piano Concerto in A minor - - - Schumann (1810-1856) Allegro affettuoso Intermezzo—Andantino Grazioso Allegro vivace

The first movement of the Schumann Piano Concerto was written as a Fantasia in A minor for orchestra and piano in 1841. Four years later the second and third movements were added and the whole work received its first performance on January 1st, 1846 at Leipzig with Clara Schumann performing.

As a Fantasia it is easy to understand the episodic and rhapsodic nature of the first movement. After an opening chord of E in five octaves in the orchestra, the piano makes the first of its giant entries, afterwards so endeared to the public by Grieg in his piano concerto in the same key. Indeed the immediate layout is precisely the same in both concertos, proceeding as they do to announce the first subject in the orchestra and echoing it on the piano. But the subjects are vastly different, Schumann’s being a dreamy lyrical tune and Grieg’s a rhythmical and percussive one. Schumann immediately opens out into one of those spinning running figures so characteristic of his piano music. This method of writing has been imitated in piano concertos of the romantic kind ever since, particularly by Rachmaninoff, but never again has that gentle persuasive voice been heard. The concerto is a work of love and by love it must be understood ; then it will remain in the mind as a series of adorable memories.

To quote from the first movement a few which come to mind—there is the duet for clarinet and orchestra in A flat when the one and only principal theme of the movement is discussed between them, and again the passage beginning in G major when the pianist proceeds to tear the heart out of the tune—the same tune—and ends up exhausted in what in any self-respecting concerto would be described as the recapitulation—still the same tune. Then there is the Cadenza which sounds so much like the epilogue to the Dichterliebe, a meditation working up to a pitch of emotional excitement : then the wonderful busy coda which follows.

The second movement is a quiet dialogue between piano and orchestra which might be entitled “ After listening to Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto ” and leads, as Beethoven's does, quietly into the vivacious last movement.

Of this movement, much could be written. Somehow or other Schumann has wrenched the subject of the first movement into a leaping waltz. This time there is a genuine second subject—the famous cross-rhythm tune which students are supposed to find so difficult. But Schumann reserves his real miracle for the Coda. If ever the likeness to quicksilver is justified in the description of music, it is here. Nothing more gay or infectious was ever contrived to round off a concerto.—G.B.

INTER VAL Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor - Rachmaninoff (1873-1943)

I. Allegro moderate II. Adagio sostenuto III. Allegro scherzando

Rachmaninoff was in London during the winter of 1898-99, conducting and playing—among other things—the inevitable Prelude. His visit proved such a success that he was invited to return the following year and perform his first Piano Concerto. He felt, however, that his Opus 1 was too immature, and promised to write a new Concerto for the occasion.

The last two movements were completed in 1900 and performed, with the composer as soloist, in Moscow The first movement was added the following year. There is, however, nothing in the music to suggest that the opening movement was the last to be conceived : on the contrary, several things from the finale, and even the second movement, seem to derive from the opening movement. The second Concerto has long been the most popular of the four, although it lacks the economy of means and conciseness of the Third. Rachmaninoff’s preference for long-drawn-out themes causes problems in development sections. In the last movement this problem is circumvented rather than solved, by the introduction in the development section of a short motive. The famous second subject of the last movement, perhaps the best known of all Rachmaninoff's tunes with the possible exception of the C Sharp Minor Prelude, undergoes no development whatsoever, being merely transposed and differently scored for its'dast two repetitions.

I. The first movement opens with a chordal introduction derived from the last movement, and played by the soloist alone. The striking character of the first subject, played by the upper strings and clarinet against arpeggios on the piano and pizzicati from the 'cellos and basses, is its insistence on the key-note. It is a long and rather four square theme, and the discussion of it continues for a considerable time. The even more romantic second subject follows after a brief crescendo succeeded by a little phrase on the violas and clarinets in thirds. The beginning of the development coincides with an increase in speed, and soon the new short motive already referred to is heard on the flutes. It is combined with parts of both the first and second subjects and, as the section continues, plays a more and more dominating role. The return to the recapitulation is more striking. All the strings except the double basses play the first subject, while the piano continues with a short motive : Rachmaninoff’s direction Maestoso (Alla Marcia) is sufficient to explain the mood. Nor is the rest of the recapitulation a mere repetition of the exposition. One of the most striking and effective changes occurs when the second subject is given to a solo horn against tremoli in the strings.

II. Applause, or a long pause between movements, spoils the opening of the second, for in the first four bars there is a striking but simple enharmonic modulation from C minor to E major, the key of the slow movement. Parts of this movement verge on chamber music. The first main theme is played by a flute, the solo accompaniment being provided by the piano, and its continuation on the clarinet has only a slightly fuller backing. These two themes are discussed at length until a more animated middle section is reached, in which the solo part is often free, as in the manner of a cadenza. The return to the opening section, too, is managed in a most poetic style, the flutes in thirds putting an end to the soloist’s free rhapsody.

III. The remarks concerning a long break between the first two movements apply equally to the second and third, in which Rachmaninoff gently introduces a change of mood, at the same time modulating from E major back to C minor. The climax is followed by a cadenza from the soloist, which leads into a rhythmic version of the chords that opened the first movement. (Actually, as we have seen, this rhythmic passage is the original, and the chordal one the derivation.) The first subject follows immediately and undergoes a variation. At last it is heard from the soloist alone, played in a slower tempo, and leads straight into the second subject, which is too well known to need describing. It is perhaps remarkable that this extended melody should be one of the comparatively few that Rachmaninoff wrote that is not in the minor key. Its scoring here, for violas doubled by oboe, is perfectly suited to its mood. After its repetition by the piano there is a strange hushed passage in which the cymbal is prominent, and a variation of the first subject is split up by rests. Almost the whole of this movement, except the three statements of the big theme, is based on the first subject, which rather surprisingly at one point is subjected to brief fugal treatment. The repetition of the big theme in D flat major gains in effect by being preceded by a vigorous orchestral passage. Its final statement in C major, with its majestic soaring string writing, is accompanied by brilliant chordal work from the soloist. The movement ends vigorously, and in an atmosphere as near to “ joie de vivre ” as Rachmaninoff, a musical pessimist if ever there was one, ever achieved. —M.R. ROYAL FESTIVAL HALL General Manager T. E. BEAN ARTUR RUBINSTEIN with the LONDON PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA

Conductor : SIR ADRIAN BOULT

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4th, at 8 p^m. MOZART: Piano Concerto in A, K..488 BEETHOVEN : Piano Concerto No. 4 in G GRIEG : Piano Concerto in A minor LISZT : Piano Concerto No. 1 in E flat

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 12th, at 8 p.m. BEETHOVEN : Piano Concerto No. 2 in B flat BRAHMS: Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor TCHAIKOVSKY : Piano Concerto No. 1 in B flat minor

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 14th, at 8 p.m. BEETHOVEN : Piano Concerto No. 1 in C FRANCK: Symphonic Variations BRAHMS: Piano Concerto No. 2 in B flat

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 18th, at 8 p.m. BEETHOVEN : Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor CHOPIN : Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor FALLA : Nights in the Gardens of Spain RACHMANINOFF : Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini LONDON PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA (Leader: Joseph Shad wick) Principal Conductor : SIR ADRIAN BOULT First Violins ’Cellos Contra Bassoon John Long Kenneth Cooper Joseph Shadwick Samuel Lovett Harold Parfitt Thomas Francis A. Garth Jones Edward Parker Horns Michael Zabludow Jacques Peretti Keith Whitmore \ John Kuchmy Gethyn Wykeham- Donald Helps / Jack Gorowski George Iain Keddie Solly Scheck Roger Briggs James Brown John L. Davies Norman Jones John Manners Thomas Geradine Dennis Nesbitt Julius Ungerson William Roskelly Charles Meinardi Trumpets John Mayer Eric Bravington* Andrew Brown Basses Frank Boyden Stirling Robins James Carpenter Philip Jones Isaac Losowsky Harold Fawcett Anthony English Frank Wall Thomas Alexander Trombones Albert Hayward Evan Watkin Frank Martin John Hawling Gordon Pearce Second Violins Jack Silvester Bass Trombone Gerald McElhone Maurice Pepper* Alexander Kirk Flutes Norman Peace David Sandeman Bass Tuba Kenneth Doff Henry Messent John *Wilson George Hein Robert Boddington Curtis Hutter Timpani Anthony Cleveland Peter Allen Mykes Quirke Piccolo John Mayo Robert Boddington Homi Kanga Percussion William Ivory Oboes Cecil Kearney Gerald Briscoe David Woolley Allan Fry Fred Caruana Peter Boswell Harry Smaile Gordon Godfrey Cor Anglais Harp Henry Lythell Winifred Cockerill Violas Clarinets George Alexander Celesta and Piano Maurice Cody* Ernest Christensen John Coülling John McCaw Wrayburn Glasspool John Cload Bass Clarinet Orchestral Manager and Allan McDougall Frederick Lowe Librarian Eric Challinor John Jones Algy McCordall Ernest Christensen Bassoons Samuel Rosenheim George Alexandra Assistant Librarian Eric Bray Peter Francis Frederick Lowe *Member of the Board of Directors Chairman, Eric Bravington General Administrator, T. O’Dea, 53, Welbeck Street, London, W.l.