An Improbable Life: Memoirs by Robert Craft (Vanderbilt University Press)
It’s about time that Robert Craft spent some time explaining how he came to be Robert Craft. The importance of what he did during his 30+ years working with Stravinsky, assisting in the genesis and birth of the masterpieces of the great composer’s final decades, is well known. Less commonly understood and acknowledged is the vital role he played in the 50s and 60s championing both live and on recordings neglected music from Gesualdo and Monteverdi to Schoenberg, Webern, and Varèse. Finally, through his books and essays, he has given future generations of writers on Stravinsky–and a whole range of other subjects–little excuse for not getting their facts straight (facts being of little concern to most writers and commentators on musical matters).
An Improbable Life lives up to its title, describing Craft’s typically upper middle-class upbringing in Kingston, New York, his early attachment to music and determination to follow his interests, and equally important his omnivorous appetite for books (source of his sometimes irritating, sometimes charming use of a hyper-extended vocabulary). Anyone familiar with Craft’s previous books or essays already knows that purely as an observer and reporter of events, he has few literary peers today. Turning his dry wit and unsentimental gaze on himself, he takes us with uncompromising frankness through intensely personal experiences (his early sexual encounters; his attempted suicide during his WWII military service) that would otherwise qualify as “too much information.” Indeed, anyone looking for agonizing autobiographical confessions is in for a big disappointment. While Craft’s own opinions and judgments are present on just about every page (his wry reaction to the British press’s paroxysms of ecstasy at the premiere of Britten’s War Requiem, for example), he often prefers to describe his experiences through the diaries and letters of others (Christopher Isherwood, Isaiah Berlin, the Stravinskys).
In so eventful a narrative (and this one is really packed with “big names”, from W. H. Auden to Frank Sinatra) there are bound to be incidents that we wish Craft had addressed in greater detail. For instance, although he cites several letters from Glenn Gould contemporaneous with and subsequent to their recording of Schoenberg’s Piano Concerto, he remains silent on the subject of the sessions themselves and offers no opinion of Gould as a Schoenberg performer (in particular with respect to the pianist’s liberties with the printed scores). Still, Craft’s very emotional reserve and circumspection make many of the events he describes all the more poignant: Stravinsky’s death and the ugly lawsuit between his children and second wife Vera, Craft’s brief first marriage and the decade-long loss of contact with his only son, recurring health problems, and most notably the death of his mother. On the difficult subject of how he feels, looking back, about his decision to subordinate his own conducting career (and personal life) to his work with Stravinsky, Craft finds a measure of validation in Paul Sacher’s comment: “You were the most important person in Stravinsky’s life. He was your destiny. You did what had to be done, and did it brilliantly.”
But the story doesn’t end there. Since the 1980s, Craft has been intensively involved in recording the complete orchestral and larger chamber ensemble works of Schoenberg and Stravinsky. In reading the third (post-Stravinsky) part of the book, it’s helpful as well as musically rewarding to listen as well as look. As an interpreter, Craft has sometimes been described as dull in those few early works of Stravinsky and Schoenberg for which multiple comparisons are ready to hand. Craft is seldom dull (in fact his Rite of Spring on Koch is one of the more exciting versions available), but he is often more interested in being accurate., and the excitement in his performances sometimes happens at a level deeper and less obvious than mere choice of tempo. In Schoenberg’s atonal and serial music, no one can touch him, and the same is largely true of his Stravinsky, particularly the neo-classical and late works. Compare, for example, Craft’s recent superb Symphony of Psalms (Koch) to the sloppy and casual Pierre Boulez (DG).
Not only has Craft’s achievement been unfairly and lazily dismissed through comparison to better known artists, far more damaging is that fact that “accuracy” is seldom acknowledged a musical virtue either by audiences (understandably ignorant of the scores in question), or critics (who simply have no excuse but generally couldn’t care less). Few things in performance are more exciting or more musically satisfying than a rendering of a difficult work that is true to its spirit as a result of being true to its letter. Anyone can opine on the “spirit” part, whatever that is, but understanding “the letter” requires real knowledge, and a consequent effort all too frequently beyond the inclinations of critics claiming to be experts empowered to pass judgment on the work of artists like Robert Craft. Still, the evidence of his mastery is there for any who care to listen, learn, and enjoy.
A few technical notes: The book’s index is incomplete (the aforementioned Paul Sacher does not appear at all). There are also some proof-reading problems. On page 55 Craft mentions his friend, oboist Elden Gatwood, whose career took him from the “Cleveland Symphony” [i.e. Orchestra] to the “Pittsburgh Orchestra” [i.e. Symphony]. Composer Luigi Dallapiccola’s name comes out as “Dallapiccolo” more often than not. Craft recalls seeing Bruno Walter record Mahler’s Fourth Symphony in January, 1958 at the American Legion Hall, Los Angeles. Walter’s recording of this symphony was in fact made in 1945 in New York. In 1958 (February), he recorded the Second Symphony in New York, but was indeed in Los Angeles in January 1961 for Mahler’s First and Ninth Symphonies. Something is scrambled here with respect to dates. Craft also notes (on page 398) that he was “moved to learn” that Georg Solti’s last recording was of Stravinsky’s Requiem Canticles. According to Decca, Solti’s last effort in the studio was a disc of music by Bartók, Kodály, and Leo Weiner. Finally, the jacket sleeve claims that Robert Craft is the recipient of the “International Prix du Disque Lifetime Achievement Award, Cannes Music Festival.” This should read “Cannes Classical Award for Lifetime Achievement.” I ought to know, because I gave it to him.
In the body of his literary work, this personal memoir should probably be read as a supplement to Craft’s previous volumes, Stravinsky: Chronicle of a Friendship especially, but make no mistake: it should be read. At its simplest, Craft offers a non-fiction version of what the Germans call a Bildungsroman–a novel in which a protagonist of unremarkable character undergoes a process of education (in the sense of “enlightenment”) and consequently acquires a deeper understanding of both himself and the world around him. Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain might serve as the most famous example. The story of Robert Craft’s progress from small town New York to the highest pinnacle of our musical culture, and his subsequent “return to earth,” offers young dreamers and music lovers inspiration that extends well beyond matters musical.
David Hurwitz
