The Short

viii
By the time this book has become a classic tool of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century performing practice, it will be
hard to believe that there were once musical professionals whose fear of the kind of knowledge it contains urged them
to scorn the historical movement. It will be hard to explain that such ‘flat-earthers’ called an informed approach to
music ‘flummery’, ‘exoticism’, or‘learning to play out of tune’. What these faint-hearted folk were afraid of was a loss
of artistic freedom, a withdrawal of that power which performers had more and more taken over during the early part
of the twentieth century. And yet, of course, music has always been a shared activity between creator and performer.
You don't lose power by knowing things.
Power-hungry performers have a free hand once a composer is dead—especially if he is 200 years dead. What the
historical movement has tried to do is to give that composer back his share in the proceedings. ‘Tradition’ and
mysterious illumination from teachers can easily assume the mighty shadow of truth. But sharing the stage with a
composer and his age isn't really frightening or restricting at all. It is liberating and creatively inspiring.
The thrill of that discovery, the recreation not just of unknown music of the past but of music we thought we knew all
about, has been central to the musical lives of many thousands of listeners and performers (‘flat-earthers’ apart) for the
last thirty years. During exciting years of pioneering with the London Classical Players, I have been fortunate to have
learnt much from Clive Brown about nineteenth-century peforming style. Many of our landmark recordings
(Beethoven, Berlioz, Brahms, Bruckner) were made with his advice and encouragement. Now he brings all this
information to the public for the first time.
It is, of course, a never-ending quest, never fulfilled and by definition unfinishable. One of Dr Brown's great strengths
is his acknowledgement of weakness. As he says in his own introduction: ‘in most cases the effect envisaged by a
composer or theorist can only be guessed at’. Yes, but guessing which is informed by everything one can find out has
at least a chance of catching those intimate perfumes of the past that many of us seek.
Of course there is no ‘authenticity’. Of course we don't know all the answers. Even if we did, it wouldn't make us
perfect performers. Music-making must always involve guesses and inspirations, creative hunches and improvised
strategies, above all, instinct and imagination. But if we don't have all the answers, the least we can do is to set out on
our journey with the right questions. These questions, and indeed many of the possible answers, Clive Brown gives us
in wonderful profusion. I cannot recommend this book too highly.
Roger Norrington
July 1997