IGOR viNsn 780.92 S9129^|| 63-07656 Stra^ski>v.rjgor FedorovLch, "* 1882- * An autobiography o [N.I., T 04- - M. J?- 5 tra^anskLi, An autobiography. 195BJ M. & J Steuer, public library ase report lost cards KANSAS CITY, MO. PUBLIC LIBRARY o DDDi IGOR STRAVINSKY An Autobiography The Norton Library W W NORTON & COMPANY INC NEW YORK Inc. Copyright 1936 by Simon and Schuster, FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE NORTON LIBRARY 1962 W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. is also the publisher of current or forthcoming books on music by Howard Boatwright, Manfred Bukofzer, Alfred Einstein, Richard Franko Goldman, Donald Jay Grout, Charles Ives, Paul Henry Lang, Joseph Machlis, Arthur Mendel, Douglas Moore, Carl Parrish, Vincent Persichetti, and Marc Pincherle, Walter Piston, Gustave Reese, Curt Sachs, Arnold Schonberg. Printed in the United States of America Foreword ONE: Development of the Composer 1 TWO: Composer and Performer 87 6307656 Foreword The aim of this volume is to set down afew recollections connected with various It is in periods of my life. equally tendedfor those interested in my music and in myself. Rather, therefore, than a biography it will be a simple account ofim portant events side by side with facts of minor consequence: both, however, have a certain significancefor me, and I wish to relate them according to the dictates of my memory. Naturally I shall not be able to keep within the bounds of bare statement. As I call my recollections to mind, I shall necessarily be obliged to speak of my opinions, my tastes, my preferences, and my abhorrences. I am but too well aware ofhow much thesefeelings vary in the course oftime. This is why I shall take great care not to confuse my present reactions with those experienced at other in stages my life. There are stillfurther reasons which induce me to write this book. In numerous ijiterviews I have given, my thoughts, my words, and even facts have often been disfigured to the extent of becoming absolutely unrecognizable. I therefore undertake this task today in order to present to the reader a true picture of myself, and to dissipate the accumulation of misunderstandings that has gathered about both my work and my person. ONE: Development of the Composer I As memory reaches back along the vista of the years, the increasing distance adds to the difficulty of seeing clearly and choosing between those incidents which make a deep impres sion and those which, though perhaps more important in themselves, leave no trace, and in no way influence one's development. Thus, one of my earliest memories of sound will seem somewhat odd. It was in the country, where my parents, like most peo ple of their class, spent the summer with their children. I can see it now. An enormous peasant seated on the stump of a tree. The sharp resinous tang of fresh-cut wood in my nos trils. The peasant simply clad in a short red shirt. His bare legs covered with reddish hair, on his feet birch sandals, oil his head a mop of hair as thick and as red as his beard not a white hair, yet an old man. He was dumb, but he had a way of clicking his tongue very noisily, and the children were afraid of him. So was I. But curiosity used to triumph over fear. The children would gather round him. Then, to amuse them, he would begin to sing. This song was composed of two syllables, the only ones he could pronounce. They were devoid of any meaning, but he made them alternate with incredible dexterity in a very rapid tempo. He used to accompany this clucking in the fol- '5 hand under his lowing way: pressing the palm of his right his left arm with a move left armpit, he would work rapid the hand. From beneath the ment, making it press on right red shirt he extracted a succession of sounds which were some be what dubious but very rhythmic, and which might euphe kisses. This amused me mistically described as resounding with zeal to imitate beyond words, and at home I set myself this music - so often and so successfully that I was forbidden The two dull to indulge in such an indecent accompaniment. remained thus lost all their attraction syllables which alone for me. Another memory which often comes back is the singing were a of the women of the neighboring village. There great in many of them, and regularly every evening they sang unison on their way home after the day's work. To this day the and I clearly remember the tune, and way they sang it, their how, when I used to sing it at home, imitating manner, I was complimented on the trueness of my ear. This praise made me very happy. And it is an odd thing that this occurrence, trifling because it though it seems, has a special significance for me, marks the dawn of my consciousness of myself in the role of musician. I will confine myself to those two impressions of sum mer, which was always associated with a picture of the country, and of all the things to be seen and heard there. - Winter was quite another story town. My memories of that do not go so far back as those of summer, and I date them from the time when I was about three years old. Win ter, with its curtailing of liberty and amusements, with its not rigorous discipline and interminable length, was likely to make enduring impressions. My parents were not specially concerned with nay musi cal development until I was nine. It is true that there was music in the house, my father being the leading bass singer of the Imperial Opera in St. Petersburg, but I heard all this - music only at a distance from the nursery to which my r brothers and I w ere relegated. When I was nine my parents gave me a piano mistress. I very quickly learned to read music, and, as the result of reading, soon had a longing to improvise, a pursuit to which I devoted myself, and which for a long time was my favorite occupation. There cannot have been anything very interest ing in these improvisations, because I was frequently re proached for wasting my time in that way instead of practic ing properly, but I was definitely of a different opinion, and the reproaches vexed me considerably. Although today I understand and admit the need of this discipline for a child of nine or ten, I must say that my constant work at improvisa tion was not absolutely fruitless; for, on the one hand, it contributed to my better knowledge of the piano, and, on the other, it sowed the seed of musical ideas. Apropos of this, I should like to quote a remark of Rimsky-Korsakov's that he made later on when I became his pupil. I asked him whether I was right in always composing at the piano. "Some compose at the piano," he replied, "and some without a piano. As for you, you will compose at the piano." As a matter of fact, I do at the and I do not it. I further I compose piano regret go $ think it is a thousand times better to compose in direct con tact with the physical medium of sound than to work in the abstract medium produced by one's imagination. Apart from my improvisation and piano-practice, I found immense pleasure in reading the opera scores of which - I was my father's library consisted all the more so because mother also had that able to read with great facility. My gift, and I must have inherited it from her. Imagine my joy, to the theatre therefore, when for the first time I was taken which as a I where they were giving an opera with pianist the and it was was already familiar. It was A Lifefor Tsar, then I heard an orchestra for the first time. And what an orchestra -Glinka's! The impression was indelible, but it to the fact that must not be supposed that this was due solely it was the first orchestra I ever heard. To this day, not only as re Glinka's music in itself, but his orchestration well, musical art - so is mains a perfect monument of intelligent his instru his balance of tone, so distinguished and delicate and the latter I mean his choice of instruments mentation ^ by and his way of combining them. I was indeed fortunate in with happening on a chef d*oeuvre for my first contact great music. That is why my attitude towards Glinka has always been one of unbounded gratitude. I remember having heard another lyrical work that same winter, but it was by a composer of the second rank Alexander Serov - and on that occasion I was impressed only by the dramatic action. My father had the leading part, a role in which he was particularly admired by the Petersburg artist his had public. He was a very well-known in day. He a beautiful voice and an amazing technique, acquired in studying by the Italian method at the St. Petersburg Con servatoire, in addition to great dramatic talent a rare at tribute among opera singers at that time. About the same time I heard Glinka's second opera, Ruslan and Ludmilla, at a gala performance given to cele brate its fiftieth anniversary. My father took the part of Farlaf, which was one of the best in his repertoire.