vagabond 1977 september 02 friday

friday 2 september 1977

almost there

0900

outside temperature 19º

weather fine and clear

Bratislava was an interesting experience. We had fully paid up tourist visas. The other passengers filled up their dockets to go ashore on one or other, or both, of the set coach tours. After some enquiries we were allowed to proceed on our own so long as we changed ten dollars each into local currency – and then spend it. Notices say it cannot be changed back  and, in fact, the visas clearly say visas are issued only on this condition. We set out to see a little of Bratislava and to spend our crowns. We bought Czech gramophone records, some postcards, a souvenir spoon, pretty coloured handkerchiefs – and a pair of nylon stretch socks!  I tried not to persuade myself that the town was drab; but I couldn’t help remembering all the accounts I had read where that word was used to describe the places being visited. Just the same, it is a thrill to see an undulating baroque façade and then go into a church which soars with exuberant exultation. There is nothing like this in Australia. There’s nothing like it in England, for that matter. It’s a great movement of the spirit that by-passed the British Isles. More’s the pity.

Getting back on board was more difficult than leaving. When an armed guard has been ordered to see that all passengers go through a particular entrance, he sees to it that all passengers go through that entrance. When the same armed guard has been ordered to inspect everyone’s boarding pass, he requires everyone to produce boarding passes for inspection – whether they should have them or not. Patience and smilingness helps wheels to turn. And tea is still being served in the dining room.

Wien

We were having breakfast when the ВОЛГА [Volga] tied up at Praterkai. Theresa was there waiting for us. Quite unchanged. The same inclination of the head. Exquisitely poised. Perhaps a little rounder in the face. And the months melted away.

Wien is a grand city. A Grand City. GRANDEUR and STATELINESS are everywhere. Wide imposing streets. A sense of space. A sense of things happening. Pedestrian underpasses newly built at the Ring’s major intersections. An underground railway in the course of construction. New buildings going up everywhere. Action and achievement.

In the Kaertnerstrasse I saw elegant women for the first time since Bond Street in 1968. This elegance is part of european culture. Part of its music. How can students outside Europe ever hope to achieve Mozart’s elegance? unless they come to study here? In its place we in Australia so often have a backwood’s approach. Let’s face it. Don’t let’s pretend we are in the same league as Roma or Paris or London. Least of all Wien. 

John Painter once wrote a report which said : ‘For a violinist, he makes a good butcher.’ Being realistic – and without being really unkind – we could say of many of our pianists : ‘If they could handle an axe, they would make good woodchoppers.’ So many ‘promising’ students with ‘potential’. So many students who sadly NEVER achieve the standards they could. Students who are encouraged to believe they are outstanding when – by metropolitan european standards – they are mediocre. 

Australia has its own particular virtues, its own particular qualities. But to dilute them with pretence is disastrous. Music is an international art and we do not do our job well when we prepare students for an international career. Not many of them will achieve international careers, but if the standards are not applied, we do  less than our proper duty towards the art of music. Too much local energy goes into passing exams and winning competitions. The need to make marvellous music is forgotten. And I have seen too many Sydney students fade into oblivion when they could have been world class. 

If we were not dealing with music, our approach could be different. One of Australia’s major problems is the burden of its european antecedents. Dorothy Helmrich, to my certain knowledge, has been aware of this for many years. But her voice was silenced. Overtrodden. She realised the dilemma of trying to develop a genuine australian music whilst still being surrounded with a european heritage. But others, who should have known better, turned the conversation into other channels. 

There are those who prefer to hide problems rather than face them. Don’t let’s disturb the outside world. Don’t let us admit any oversights or shortcomings. Bring out the whitewash. Let’s pretend everything is marvellous.

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