The two greatest pianists of the 20th century:

Josef Hofmann and Leopold Godowsky only left a paltry and scarce output on recorded music. Much a pity, since it does not enable us to always understand the superlative reviews of the period

Leopold Godowsky (1870û1938) was one of the great geniuses in the history of piano, earning the highest esteem as both performer and composer. Virtually self-taught, he concertized all over the world until felled by a stroke during a London recording session in 1930. Godowsky was praised for his effortless technique and the remarkable tonal subtlety of his playing. GodowskyÆs recorded legacy extends from 1913 to 1930 and includes discs made for both American and British Columbia as well as for Brunswick.

Biography

Leopold Godowsky was born in 1870 in the small town of Sozly, near Vilna (now Vilnius), at the confluence of the Polish, Russian, and Lithuanian borders. There is little evidence that he underwent any kind of extensive musical education. He briefly attended classes in Berlin around 1884, then traveled to Paris where Camille Saint-Sadns gave him a limited amount of musical advice. Meanwhile Godowsky began establishing a reputation as a formidable pianist in a wide repertoire, performing in several European cities and making his official American debut in 1890. A sensational Berlin debut ten years later attracted much attention. Godowsky also maintained a constant interest in teaching and composing. During the 1890s, for instance, he held important pedagogical positions in Philadelphia, New York, and Chicago. Following his 1900 Berlin concert, he set up residence there and was in great demand as a teacher. At about the same time Godowsky embarked on a series of remarkable compositions that carried the polyphonic aspects of piano technique to new heights. Chief among these is his extensive series of Studies based on the Chopin Etudes.

From 1909 until the outbreak of World War I, Godowsky lived and taught in Vienna. He then moved permanently to the United States with his wife and four children. He traveled and performed widely on several continents, continuing his master classes and compositional pursuits. In addition to further transcriptions and paraphrases, GodowskyÆs output embraced numerous original compositions, both large and small. At a 1930 recording session in London, he suffered a stroke that effectively ended his public career. The final phase of GodowskyÆs life was marked by disillusionment, owing to further personal tragedies. He died in New York in 1938.

Leopold Godowsky was unquestionably one of historyÆs greatest pianistic geniuses. Harold Bauer called him ôthe master of us all.ö The critic James Huneker wrote that Godowsky is ôthe superman of piano playing. Nothing like him, as far as I know, is to be found in the history of piano playing since Chopin.ö Perhaps most impressive of all are Josef HofmannÆs words to Abram Chasins after an evening at GodowskyÆs home: ôNever forget what you heard tonight; never lose the memory of that sound. ThereÆs nothing like it in this world.ö

In spite of the fact that GodowskyÆs playing was held in the highest esteem by his peers, his disc recordings have received surprisingly little attention. Instead, Godowsky is primarily appreciated today for his ingenious transcriptions that pushed piano technique to levels hitherto unimagined. The argument most frequently presented against GodowskyÆs recordings is that they are (supposedly) dull, uninspired, and not representative of the pianist. Yet few would disagree that GodowskyÆs 1926 recordings of two of his own Schubert song transcriptions (ôMorgengrussö and ôGute Nachtö) and his 1929 performance of GriegÆs Ballade are some of the greatest treasures of the recording era.

It was said that Godowsky played at his best only at small, informal gatherings rather than in the concert hall. A colleague of the violinist Carl Flesch wittily stated ôGodowskyÆs aura extends only two yards.ö For the general public, GodowskyÆs playing was something of an enigma. Cognoscenti and professionals could appreciate his immaculate mastery of the instrument, but such appeal proved elusive to the average concertgoer. A lack of public enthusiasm was not always the case for Godowsky, however. His debut in Berlin in 1900 was a success of a kind rarely seen before. He later wrote about the recital to his friend W. S. B. Mathews, ôThe success was greater than anything I have ever witnessedàI donÆt exaggerate the successùI can never do justice to it!ö

Unfortunately, the confines of the recording studio did not appeal to Godowsky. He equated making records with ônerve-killing torturesö and found the recording process to be ôa dreadful ordeal.ö In a 1938 letter to Paul Howard, founder of the International Godowsky Society, he flatly stated, ôDo not judge me by my records!ö In that same letter Godowsky lamented the primitive state of recording technology and the extra-musical obstacles the performer was faced with. ôThe left hand had to be louder than the right hand; the pedal had to be used sparingly and not at all when the hands were close to each other... The fear of doing a trifling thing wrongà How can one think of mood and emotion!ö Performers, however, can be their own harshest critics, and, as already pointed out, GodowskyÆs finest recordings are the work of a master pianist.

Perhaps the most startling aspect of GodowskyÆs records is his tendency to alter the score where he felt improvements could be made. These modifications were not the result of any callous attitude towards the composer. Godowsky, in fact, believed it was a performerÆs duty to know by memory every single note and marking in a score, and he was known to explode in anger when he felt a performer had neglected his duty in this area. But as Abram Chasins explains in his book Speaking of Pianists, ôOnce you knew what was in a score, however, he would delight in showing you dozens of places where changes would make the piece æsound betterÆûaltering harmonizations and the disposition of voices, removing parallel fifths or octaves, or, especially, completing some contrapuntal line that the composer had abandonedà. In his philosophy, rewriting was really a service to the composerùwho might not have thought of such a good ideaùbut inattention was ignorance and disrespect.ö Throughout GodowskyÆs recordings one finds such changes. Some are minor, audible only to someone thoroughly familiar with the work, whereas others can be radical, such as completely rewriting the ending of a work. No attempt has been made here to systematically list every alteration Godowsky makes, though an exhaustive listing is a project worthy of future consideration.

GodowskyÆs earliest recordsùthose recorded for the American branch of Columbia Records between 1913 and 1916ùare generally considered his least successful, yet even in these there is much of interest. His recordings for the Brunswick label benefit from a somewhat improved recorded soundùGodowskyÆs singing tone can be better heard and he is able to use a wider dynamic range. His very first recording, the Mendelssohn Song Without Words nicknamed ôMay Breezes,ö [CD 1, Track 1] is masterful. Taken at a leisurely tempo, it is full of subtlety and nuance. His loving phrasing, tender hesitations, delicate colorations, and melodic yearning result in a deeply touching performance. The ôSpinning Songö that follows [CD 1, Track 2] is a more careful rendition notable for its rewritten ending. Whereas in the ôSpinning Songö the score modifications are limited to just the ending, they occur throughout GodowskyÆs performance of LisztÆs ôLa Campanella.ö [CD 1, Track 3] In altering this work he was hardly alone; Ferruccio Busoni often played and was soon to publish a significantly revised version of La Campanella, and Ignaz Friedman, in his recording of the work, took BusoniÆs version and adorned it even further.

GodowskyÆs two recordings of the Chopin Waltz in C-sharp Minor [CD 1, Track 9] [CD 2, Track 12] (a third version will appear in a future volume) show completely different aspects of the pianist. The earlier recording is much more successful. Godowsky plays convincingly from the onset. In the workÆs middle section he employs considerable rubato and expression. At the return of the æBÆ section, Godowsky chooses to emphasize the notes played by the right hand thumb, thus creating an inner musical line. The highlighting of this particular line was common among nineteenth-century pianists (Sergei Rachmaninoff, Mischa Levitzki, Josef Hofmann, and Raoul Koczalski are just a few of the other pianists whose followed this practice), but Godowsky takes things one step further by adding notes to continue the line until the phrase ends. His later disc of the work demonstrates a curious aspect found in some of GodowskyÆs recordingsùa tendency to begin in a very straightforward manner only to become more musically involved as the performance proceeds. In this second recording, the opening is stiff and heavy-handed. He continues to play in this manner until the workÆs middle section, where he finally starts to exercise some expression and freedom. At the return of the æAÆ section the playing is considerably more expressive than at the opening. GodowskyÆs interest is now aroused, and he emphasizes inner voices, brings shape to the melody, and even surprises us with his varied dynamics.

The need to limit each recording to four and a half minutes so as to fit on one side of a record forced Godowsky to make brutal cuts to lengthier works. This sort of compositional mauling must surely have irked the composer-pianist, and in these abbreviated renditions Godowsky often sounds completely uninvolved. The Chopin Polonaise in A-flat [CD 1, Track 6] is a case in point. The introduction is cut, Godowsky is forced to invent an abrupt transition from the famous left hand octaves section back into the opening theme, which, by means of another cut, quickly leads into the workÆs coda. There is nothing ôheroicö about the playing; Godowsky is merely going through the motions. The Verdi-Liszt Rigoletto Paraphrase [CD 1, Track 26] suffers a similar fate. Once again the pianist is forced to make cut after cut. Godowsky did record this work again (in 1926), and that less severely truncated version will be included in a future volume.

Another observation one might draw from listening to a vast selection of GodowskyÆs recordings is that his performances of non-standard repertoire often fare better than his renditions of their famous counterparts. Perhaps Godowsky was bored with the standard repertoire. Perhaps he found it more inspirational to bring something lesser known to the public. Whatever the reason (it may simply be coincidence), the less familiar pieces are often played more persuasively than the familiar ones. ChaminadeÆs The Flatterer [CD 2, Track 17], for example, comes to life in GodowskyÆs hands. In RubinsteinÆs Serenade [CD 1, Track 18] he imparts a wonderful speaking quality to the left hand and utilizes a rubato full of expressive hesitations. HenseltÆs Gondoliera and ôSi oiseau jÆTtaisö [CD 1, Tracks 21-22] are both performed in an effective, poetic manner. On the other hand, some of the familiar Chopin works receive less than exemplary treatment. The Prelude in D-flat, op. 28, no. 15 ôRaindropö [CD 1, Track 4] has a few moments of expression but is mostly flat (its central section is particularly wooden). The Chopin Waltz in G-flat [CD 1, Track 11] has some noticeable ritards in its middle section, but overall sounds uninspired. Thankfully, not all of his Chopin performances are disappointing. The Berceuse [CD 1, Track 12] exhibits wonderful fluency and control, the Waltz in A-flat, op. 42 [CD 1, Track 17] is lively and energetic, and his performance of Fantasy-Impromptu [CD 2, Track 16] is especially fine in the outer sections.

We are extremely fortunate that so many of GodowskyÆs test pressings have survived. Whereas among GodowskyÆs commercially issued 78s there are almost no performances of his own compositions or arrangements (only the aforementioned two Schubert song transcriptions), several can be found among his extant unpublished records. Home, Sweet Home (presumably arranged by Godowsky) [CD 2, Track 15] exhibits some of his most tender playing. His Star-Spangled Banner arrangement [CD 2, Track 6] is bound to raise some eyebrows with its unusual harmonies. HunterÆs Call and Military March [CD 2, Tracks 13-14] are the last two pieces of GodowskyÆs ôMiniaturesö for four hands. The second pianist in these spirited performances is thought to be Leopold Godowsky II. Humoresque [CD 2, Track 2], also part of the Miniatures for four hands, is heard here in GodowskyÆs published two-hand arrangement. Curiously, the AlbTniz Tango [CD 2, Track 10] is not performed in GodowskyÆs then soon-to-be-published famous arrangement.

The early Godowsky discs presented here, confined as they are to the shorter pieces from his repertoire (and to the limitations of the acoustical process), nonetheless reveal a good deal of the refined musical taste and tonal subtlety that were characteristic of his pianism. His recordings often benefit from repeated hearings, as their subtleties are not always immediately apparent. There are of course those (the Schubert-Tausig Marche Militaire [CD 2, Track 9], for example) that impress at once. Future volumes of this edition will reveal additional facets of GodowskyÆs playing.

Godowsky versus Godowsky

Perhaps more than with any other Romantic pianist-composer, the recordings of Leopold Godowsky may seem to fall short of our expectations.

The difficulty of his piano music is legendary, and some of it requires not only a phenomenal technique but the most extraverted musical personality imaginable; yet his own performances are characterized by fastidious understatement. Godowsky the composer was capable of the insouciant flamboyance of his metamorphoses on ôFledermausö themes, or the diabolically clever ôBadinage,ö his combination of ChopinÆs two G-flat Etudes. Compared with this mental image, Godowsky the performer can seem pedantic, more concerned with correct declamation of the musical line than with poetry or expressive freedom.

ThatÆs flip and unfair, of course. GodowskyÆs recordings contain moments of great beauty, and a few are among the recorded repertoireÆs treasures. But Godowsky undoubtedly suffers from our preconception of what we wish his playing to be.

Even during his lifetime, many critics and audience members expected Godowsky the performer to be something he was not. Damning with faint praise was common in reviews: ôPassion and eloquence are not the distinguishing features of Mr. GodowskyÆs playing, even at its best,ö wrote a New York Times critic in 1914, even as he praised GodowskyÆs ôbeautifully polished style that had an inner warmth.ö¹ The following year, the Times, while noting the ôelegance, the perfect finish, the consummate ease of his technique,ö wrote that GodowskyÆs mastery ôdoes not extend to all, nor even to the most vital and fundamental things, in musical art.ö²

Perhaps Godowsky had difficulty letting go in front of an audience; in the recording studio, his discomfort was almost palpable. While some of his issued performances are first or second takes, many others required take after take. In one 1928 session, 24 separate takes of seven different Chopin Nocturnes yielded only a single publishable side, a half of a nocturne! Even a trifle such as MacDowellÆs ôHexentanzö needed at least nine takes during his acoustic sessions. And GodowskyÆs performing career came to a macabre end when he suffered a stroke during a 1930 recording session.

GodowskyÆs recording experience may have been extreme, but the syndrome is common; Charles Rosen has called it ômicrophone fright.ö In ôPiano Notesö Rosen articulates the different psychological realities of the concert hall and the recording studio: ôIn a concert, an effect that does not quite come off matters very little if the whole performance has vitality. In a recording, however, a slight slip of memory, a wrong note grazed are an irritant.ö³ They become ôan obstacle to the attempt to forget our own concerns and let the music take over our consciousness.ö⁴ Passages that were easy to play become increasingly difficult, sapping the pianistÆs confidence. The syndrome was surely even more serious in the 78 rpm era, when splicing was impossible.

Considering this, GodowskyÆs dogged determination in the recording studio inspires awe. There are at least 51 published acoustic 78 rpm sides by Godowsky, a number equal to HofmannÆs published output and exceeded only by those of Paderewski, Mark Hambourg and the irrepressible Alfred Grnnfeld. (Though Grnnfeld recorded about a hundred sides, many are remakes.) In addition, there are many surviving alternative takes, almost doubling the number of GodowskyÆs known acoustic recordings.

The result is a rich but decidedly narrow picture of Godowsky the pianist. Except for a single Beethoven sonata and four short works by Debussy, GodowskyÆs recorded repertoire consists entirely of Romantic music, although the critic James Huneker wrote glowingly of GodowskyÆs Bach, Haydn, and Mozart. All of GodowskyÆs records are solos. There are no concertos, such as the Brahms and Tchaikovsky first concertos that contributed to his astounding success in Berlin; and there is no chamber music, such as the five Beethoven cello sonatas that he performed on a single evening with Jean Gerardy, or the Franck sonata, which he performed with Ysa e and other violinists to great acclaim.

Even the solos are heavily skewed towards pieces that would fit on a single 78 rpm side, plus a surprising number of single-sided abridgments. It must have pained Godowsky to have to incise abridged versions of ChopinÆs Op. 31 Scherzo, Op. 47 Ballade, and Op. 53 Polonaise for Brunswick at a time when other record companies were issuing complete versions by other pianists. It wasnÆt until 1929 that Godowsky recorded any of the larger works that made up the bulk of his vast solo repertoire. There are only a handful of his own compositions and transcriptions, and none of his Studies on the Chopin Etudes, which some pianists would pay dearly to hear. And it almost goes without saying of a pianist whose career ended before the heyday of radio that we have no transcriptions of live performances, which can reveal new facets of a musicianÆs personality.

As a final insultûthough these minimally filtered transfers reveal more of GodowskyÆs subtlety than ever beforeûfew pianists were hampered so much by the inherent limitations of acoustical recording. To paraphrase Mark Twain, GodowskyÆs records are better than they sound.

For instance, the 1928ù1930 electrical discs (on the forthcoming Volume 3) disclose artful pedaling that often wreathed his playing in a halo of harmonics; on the acoustic records, some of that sound lay above the audible frequency range. The acoustic horn also compressed GodowskyÆs sound, which according to several sources was already relatively small. For instance, in ChopinÆs Op. 42 Waltz (CD 2, Track 9), the subito piano (heightened by a split right hand) at the phraseÆs peak in bar 150 (2:02) surely was more dramatic than it sounds on his Brunswick recording.

With so many qualifications of, and gaps in, GodowskyÆs recorded output, one might reasonably ask, why bother with his records at all? The answer is simple, for in spite of everything, these discs reveal a remarkable musical mind allied to an Olympian technique. Godowsky is also a transitional figure of great historical importance, a fundamentally Romantic interpreter whose conceptions were informed by a strong scholarly impulse more typical of modern pianists.

Even for a Romantic, GodowskyÆs tempos were fluid. The most extreme example may be the first movement of ChopinÆs B-flat Minor Sonata in the forthcoming third volume, where the tempo is almost continually changing, an approach that both creates and resolves interpretive challenges.

The Chopin Berceuse (CD 1, Track 20) is treated almost as radically as that sonata. Most pianists take a relatively strict tempo through this enchanting series of mini-variations, but Godowsky unfolds a miniaturized, gentle narrative. Not only are many phrases clearly marked, usually with a closing ritard preceding a sudden resumption of tempo; the whole structure is governed by increasing extremes, as tempos get both faster and slower. We get a hint of his plan at the very beginning, when the introductory tempo (eighth-note = 83 beats per minute) is perceptibly slower than the tempo of bars three and four (eighth note = 99). The general rule is, the shorter the note-values, the faster the tempo: Godowsky speeds up to approximately 111 beats per minute when 16th -notes arrive in bar 13 (:46); to 120 at the 64th -notes in bars 19 and 20 (1:07); and to 128 beats per minute for the 64th-note triplets in bars 39-40 (2:19). This heightening of note values is a common Romantic interpretive device, but itÆs rarely used with such clear structural intent.

The trend then reverses. Godowsky slows to about 65 beats per minute in bar 44 (2:34). (Slowing in this bar is very common among earlier pianists, and especially dramatic in the recordings by Michalowski, Koczalski, and Rosenthalûall students of Karol Mikuli, suggesting that the practice may have originated with MikuliÆs teacher Chopin.) The last half of bar 46 (2:47) slows even more, to about 44 beats per minute. In this case Godowsky isnÆt calling our attention to longer note values, but preparing us for their arrival in bar 47 (2:50). He marks this arrival, which serves as a recapitulation psychologically though not thematically, with a slower basic tempo than the beginning: 75 beats per minute to start with, then fluctuating between 86 and 99 beats per minute. When the theme, or what there is of it, finally returns in bar 63 (3:54), GodowskyÆs tempo, 91 beats per minute, is slightly slower than in bars three and four. It works with the now-unchanging tonic harmony to give the impression of a curtain coming down on the performance.

Godowsky is not formulaic within this scheme of increasing and decreasing tempo. Some variations are treated individually, such as the beautifully sculpted bars 37-38 (2:12), which contain a convincing accelerando and ritard.

Like all earlier pianists, Godowsky does not always play with his hands together. But heÆs more restrained about anticipating the left hand or delaying the right hand than most pianists of his eraûin both quantity and qualityûand his use of such devices combines Romantic tradition with modern rationality. When thereÆs an anticipated bass note or a split right hand (as occur, respectively, in ChopinÆs Op. 42 Waltz, bars 136 and 138, 3rd beat (1:47 and 1:50), it serves a clear expressive or structural purpose.

Though it sounds unexceptional to modern ears, GodowskyÆs Brunswick recording of the Chopin Nocturne in D-flat (CD 1, Track 10) is actually unusual for the simultaneity of the two hands: they are together until the expressive B-flat in bar six (:19). Godowsky may have been rushing over some details in order to fit the piece onto a single side, for his later two-sided electrical recording features some subtle right-hand delays in these bars, but both performances sound chaste and restrained compared to other early recordings of the piece. The corresponding bars in Louis DiTmerÆs 1904 recording feature the lagging right hand typical of mid-19th-century performance practice; the lagging is present but more restrained in the 1912 recording by Frank La Forge, where the major right-hand delays occur at the melodyÆs entrance in bar two and at the surprising A-natural in bar five; and Vladimir de PachmannÆs 1916 Columbia recording sounds positively sybaritic compared to GodowskyÆs, using four different forms of accent in these bars.

The most arresting moments in GodowskyÆs recordings occur when his restrained sense of non-coordination between the hands is combined with his adventuresome sense of tempo. Bars 10 and 11 of the Berceuse (:35) are an object lesson in late Romantic style. The same three-note motif is repeated four times, descending one scale-degree each time over repeating tonic-dominant harmonies. Godowsky gives each repetition a distinct character while binding them together in a coherent phrase of decreasing intensity. The first appearance combines a dynamic accent with a slight lingering on the first two notes, sharply emphasizing the motifÆs upbeat character; the second appearance has only a dynamic accent; the third has only an agogic accent; and the fourth, both an agogic slackening of tempo and an expressive split of the right handÆs two notes, subtly emphasizing the dissonant B-flat/E-flat without breaking a melodic line that continues into bar 13.

GodowskyÆs romantic roots are also evident in his willingness to alter the text. Occasionally these are virtuoso stunts, such as the doubling of the right hand by the left hand at the end of MendelssohnÆs ôSpinning Songö (Volume 1), but just as often the alterations are strictly musical. For instance, in the funeral march of the Chopin sonata, he changes the left hand in bar 36 in order to remove the parallel octaves between melody and bass. ChopinÆs Waltz, Op.42 contains both types of alterations. In bar 69 (:53), he alters the left handÆs upper voice to give it a three-note chromatic line (E-flat, E, F) that relates the passage to the bass line in bars 10-12. But Godowsky also doubles the right-hand arpeggio in bars 274-276 with the left hand (3:41), a theatrical effect that must have been breathtaking in concert. (The ff dynamic marking does provide some musical justification: Chopin wanted a lot of sound here.)

Like many other Romantic pianists, Godowsky takes more textual liberties with LisztÆs music than with the music of LisztÆs contemporaries. He substantially rewrites the closing bars of ôLa Leggierezzaö (CD 1, Track 15), though he doesnÆt go as far as Moiseiwitsch and Paderewski, who tack on LeschetizkyÆs brief virtuoso coda. ôLa Leggierezzaö demonstrates that GodowskyÆs exquisite polish sometimes comes at the expense of musical excitement. Technically, this performance is the equal of any; but it is less electrifying than some (listen to the Moiseiwitsch version: Naxos 8.110669) because the placid perfection of GodowskyÆs right hand doesnÆt attract our attention. The same is true of the sparkling second section of ChopinÆs Op. 42 Waltz (bar 41ff), which sounds bland compared with HofmannÆs and RosenthalÆs interpretations. HofmannÆs famous 1935 recordings (Marston 52004-2) have a subtle but clear emphasis on the dominant preparation versus the tonic resolution. In an unusual reading of the passage, RosenthalÆs 1934 HMV recording (APR 7002) takes the opposite approach: the sharp emphasis on the recurring A-flat chords gives the impression of a whirlwind of activity on top of a basically static foundation. Godowsky emphasizes neither dominant nor tonic, playing the left hand with marvelous smoothness but very little shape, and for this reason alone his approach is less interesting than his peersÆ, despite the right handÆs elegance.

Thus we confront the ironic element of GodowskyÆs recordings: their smooth surface occasionally obscures an extraordinary musical mind. DonÆt expect catharsis from these performances; donÆt expect to hear fireworks (theyÆre often present, but disguised). If you seek instead one of the most polished technicians and most brilliant analytical musicians of his time, GodowskyÆs recordings do not disappoint.