88s on 78s: pianists on record from 1903 to 1925

American Music Teacher, April-May, 2003 by Rick Robertson

As a piano teacher who also is a record collector, I am amazed at how few modern-day musicians listen to, or are aware of, the existence of recordings made by the pianistic giants who were active at the turn of the nineteenth century. Many legendary pianists, and even composers, are well documented in disc gramophone records. These discs give us an idea of late nineteenth-century performance practice, during a time when the personality of the performer often overshadowed the intentions of the composer.

Early Recording Sessions

These early recordings give us a reasonably accurate picture of many facets of a pianist's interpretation. All records prior to 1925 were recorded with what is called the "acoustic" process. An upright piano, with all possible covering removed, was backed up to a horn, and the sound was literally "funneled" to a diaphragm attached to a needle apparatus, which "etched" the sound waves onto a rotating wax disc or cylinder. Due to the lack of microphones or any electrical amplification, the pianist in the early days was instructed to play as loudly as possible, with little or no shading, and to restrict the use of the pedal when the hands were close together. Upper and lower frequencies of the sound spectrum were practically nonexistent.

In these early days, the gramophone was considered to be little more than a toy, and the "great artists" of the time did not want to condescend to its perceived level to make recordings. Not until Caruso, Tamagno, Melba and Patti released discs and extolled its virtues did the gramophone become attractive to musicians of the first rank. The singing voice, especially the tenor voice, recorded remarkably well with this primitive process. The earliest piano recordings, prior to 1910, were not very successful; most discs from this time employ the piano as an accompaniment to a vocalist. The pianist usually sight read the accompaniments in the early sessions, often with ludicrous results! By the second decade of the century, many of these problems were ironed out, and today's listener can find much to enjoy in these discs.

Drawbacks of Early Recordings

It should be said to the neophyte listener from the start that editing did not exist in those days. Tape splicing was many years in the future. Minor finger slips, as well as some major ones, were left in, and listeners accustomed to modern-day edited perfection often receive a jolt at first. But those who attend many live recitals quickly adjust to the relatively low number of missed notes by the "name" artists on these discs. Another drawback is the short playing time. A teninch disc had a playing time of 3 1/2 minutes at the most, a twelve-inch disc around 4 1/2. Longer works were spread over the necessary number of sides, and it took a certain amount of patience to get out of one's chair after a cadence point in a Chopin Ballade to turn the record over. This was also a contributing factor to the large number of short "encore" pieces that were recorded, as they usually fit on one side without interruption.

The Earliest "Greats"

So what is the payoff? Have you ever heard Rachmaninoff play his Prelude in C-sharp Minor? Paderewski his Minuet in G? Grieg in his own Lyric Pieces? Cecile Chaminade in her own salon miniatures? Even Claude Debussy made a few discs in 1904, but not as a soloist. He accompanied Mary Garden in three songs and a scene from Pelleas et Melisande. But we can hear his sound, often described as a "piano without hammers." The adventurous pianist can learn much from hearing these rare recordings.

Johannes Brahms actually made a private recording as a gift to Thomas Edison, a performance of the solo piano version of the first Hungarian Dance. But, unfortunately, the single precious cylinder is worn and mildewed, and only a phrase or two can be heard among the surface noise. For the truly curious, International Piano Archives has issued a transfer.

Rachmaninoff

The pianistic titan of the time was certainly Sergei Rachmaninoff. He was active as a performer even until his death in 1943 and is considered the first composer-performer to leave a sizeable number of his compositions on record. He recorded all four of his concertos, the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, and even conducted the Philadelphia Orchestra in his Third Symphony and Isle of the Dead. These were all done after the adoption of electrical recording. Prior to 1925, however, Rachmaninoff had waxed a great deal of his works, as well as those of other composers. During this time he recorded the last two movements of his second Piano Concerto, before the later electric version. It is interesting to see how much of his "bell-like" tone comes through in his performance of the Prelude in C-sharp Minor, a sound that is emulated by all too few pianists today. He voices the top notes of the chords, playing the other notes noticeably quieter. In the shorter pieces, his repertoire ranged from Daquin (Le Coucou) to Debussy (some of Children's Corner) and Dohnanyi (Capriccio in F Minor). And, of course, he recorded many of his own works--a handful of the Preludes, many of the pieces from Op. 3 and Op. 10, and some of his transcriptions. His peerless rhythmic control and accuracy are evident in all these discs. Rachmaninoff's first few recordings were made in 1919 for Edison, using the vertical-cut "hill and dale" grooves, and this format is incompatible with standard players. In 1920, he signed with Victor and stayed with them until his death.