How I Felt on I4 March I972 

Susan Thiemann Sommer 

Musicology and performance-just how much of a connection is there 
between the two? "Not much" was the immediate and overwhelming answer 
in my informal poll of musicians I know well enough to ask for an honest 
reply. Perhaps it would be kinder, however, to say "not enough," because 
surely musicologists and performers do have something to say to one another. 
The problem is a breakdown of communication somewhere along the line. 

One justification for the existence of musicology (and, concomitantly, of 
musicologists) is, of course, its position in the history of ideas. Like the study 
of English literature or medieval art, the analytical and historical study of 
music reveals something precious of our cultural heritage, something which, 
one hopes, enhances the beauty and meaning of the work of art itself. But 
music, unlike art or literature, depends on an intermediary creator, the per-
former. Without him there is no music at all for practical purposes. The 
audience needs the performer; and in order for the audience to hear the 
music as the composer intended, the performer needs the musicologist. 

From the performer's point of view the final decisions as to the interpreta-
tion of a piece of music are his and rightly so. We, the audience, can only 
hope that he will be as well informed as possible about the basic stylistic 
necessities and the options available to him in terms of contemporary prac-
tices of ornamentation and instrumentation, textual variants and their 
authenticity, and all the paraphernalia of the musicologist's art. 

One of my main jobs as librarian in a major research collection located in 
the heart of the performing world is to bring these people together. All I can 
say is that it is very difficult, especially since the musicologists are usually 
looking down on the performers, who are, in turn, looking in a different 
direction. From another point of view, as a record reviewer I get a more 
encouraging impression. There have been audible results from the coopera-
tion of sympathetic musicologists and knowledgeable performers in the field 
of early music in particular. Sometimes musicologist and performer is one 
and the same person; Thurston Dart was a perfect example. It is even more 
noteworthy when artists from a different sphere, Victoria de los Angeles or 
Cathy Berberian, for instance, can apply their skills to Spanish villancicos 
or Monteverdi operas. And more musicologically oriented groups have 
raised their performance levels high enough to sound authentically impro-
visational, as witness the Early Music Quartet's dazzling rendition of the 
troubadour repertoire. 

The influence of musicology on the garden variety musician is not nearly 
so clear. Of course there have been changes; we are much less likely to hear 
massive orchestras pounding out Mozart serenades, for example, but the gap 
is still there. Why? Part of the answer lies, I think, in the difference between 
the performer's upbringing and the musicologist's attitude. 

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110st mUSICIans spend the early part of their careers concentrating on 
technique, being able to play or sing any passage in any piece no matter what 
the speed, range, or other difficulties. Their next concern is repertoire-
simply learning enough pieces to meet the concert or ensemble demands of a 
professional career. At this point they do not have time to sift and weigh 
conflicting theories of performance practice; they just want to know how to 
do it-now, right here, in this measure. Of course, a well-brought-up novice 
will want the best edition. He calls it the Urtext, and he believes, naIvely 
and rather winningly, that it is in fact a perfect authentic score containing 
the answers to all his questions-questions musicologists and their ilk are all 
too willing to bring up and throw at him. "How do you ornament the 
repeats?" "Where did you get that cadenza?" "Do you follow the autograph 
or the first edition?" "Urtext! What do you mean? There is no such thing." 
"All very good for them; they haven't had to spend hours and hours every 
day on scales and arpeggios," mutters the young musician resentfully, and 
the seeds of mistrust are sown. 

It is only the mature musician, or the extraordinarily intellectually gifted 
one, who has time to explore unusual repertoire, refine his ornamentation, 
and follow up the textual history of the score. Unfortunately, by the time he is 
ready to enjoy the benefits of scholarship fully he is often so suspicious and 
afraid of the whole thing that he avoids it altogether-and then feels guilty 
and consequently more hostile. An endless chain is forged. 

This is really true. I see it behind the eyes of my friends who are performers, 
in the hesitant step and apologetic air of a famous opera singer approaching 
the librarian's desk, in the expression of a member of one of the world's 
great symphony orchestras who is "just inquiring for a friend." I see it and it 
upsets me, because I know that we musicologists are largely to blame. And 
we librarians, too. I realize that libraries are scary places. If I had my way, all 
librarians would have to do research in a strange library once every six 
months just to reacquaint themselves with the new reader's confusion and 
terror. But a library is only one of many grounds on which musicologist and 
performer may meet. 

I t is the task of the musicologist to communicate on the right levels to the 
audience he wants to reach. The classroom is an obvious example. Will a 
semester spent in transcribing Aquitanian neumes or its equivalent really 
help a conservatory student, especially if this is the only exposure to musi-
cology he is likely to get? The point hardly needs belaboring. I can think of a 
few more suggestions, however, which might help the young musicologist 
who really wants to reach his contemporaries in the performing world. First, 
turn out good performing editions if you are equipped to do so. Performers 
work from scores, not books. Second, write for the musician in his own 
journals, trade magazines, and publications aimed at music educators. Why 
scorn popularization? But be forewarned that it is not easy to do well. 
Third, get to know some professional musicians personally. They will dis-
cover you are not a fabulous monster, and you, in turn, will probably learn a 

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great deal of practical information from them. Finally, praise and appreciate 
the performing musician. A large and tender ego is the hallmark of the soloist 
in particular, and you may have to move carefully here, but the results of 
this treatment are astonishing. For a "veIl praised musician can be like a well 
polished Aladdin's lamp in responding enthusiastically to your suggestions, 
making beautiful music, and bringing your ideas alive in sound to a whole 
new audience. And isn't that what it's all about? 

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