Criticism by Machine

Is there any truly objective way to judge the technical prowess of a pianist? Most critics think not, but a 33-year-old Polish-born pianist named Jan Holcman believes there is, and that he has found the way. To prove it, in a cluttered Manhattan studio he was hard at work last week submitting the recordings of more than 200 of the century's topflight pianists to a microscopic scrutiny, with the aid of one of the most intricate amplifying and recording units ever devised.

A pianist's tempo, his accuracy and his faithfulness to the score, Holcman points out, can be determined easily enough by reference to a metronome and a variety of counting and electronic devices. What his machine adds, says Holcman, is a better method of studying the way in which a pianist carries through his conception of a musical composition. "In a scale passage," he explains, "you have symmetry of timing--whether the notes follow each other at even intervals or not. Then there is the symmetry of dynamics--does the pianist use balanced intensity in striking each key?" To illuminate these and similar aspects of piano playing, Holcman constructed his elaborate electronic equipment.

Arms That Hover. Electronic engineers were skeptical that the machine he wanted could be made, but Holcman got a stipend from Brown University, spent three months assembling by hand his recording analyzer. Its electronic heart is a variable-speed double turntable equipped with tone arms that will hover indefinitely over a given groove at the touch of a button. This feature permits Holcman to compare, phrase by phrase, recordings of the same composition by two different pianists. When he slows the recordings down, technical flaws such as slurred passages and the dragging of the left hand behind the right (a common failing of even the best pianists) become glaringly apparent.

So far, Holcman has submitted some 1,600 records and a multitude of player piano rolls and tapes to this kind of analysis. He lacks no more than a score of records important to his collection, e.g., Walter Gieseking playing Liszt's Twelfth Rhapsody and samples of the playing of Alexander Michalowski and Eugene d'Albert. Holcman uses 78 r.p.m. recordings, disdains LPs because they are "pianistically misleading." The engineers dub and glue in to cover mistakes, he explains. No hi-fi fan, Holcman has even been known to put a broken record together with Scotch tape and cheerfully play it, clicks and all. "If you know what you're listening for, surface noise makes no more difference than a little dust on the window."

Inhumanly Perfect. Now that he has tested so many, how do the pianists measure up, in terms of the success with which they carry out their musical conceptions? Unquestionably the greatest, Holcman feels, is Polish Pianist Josef Hofmann, now 80 and retired. His musicianship, when he was in his prime, was "inhumanly perfect," says Holcman. Among those he places close behind Hofmann: Rachmaninoff, Lhevinne, Busoni, Gieseking, Friedman, Horowitz and Landowska. How do they compare with the younger generation? There are many more good pianists now, Holcman feels, but no giants. "They have the technique," he says, "but they are inhibited about presenting their own interpretations.''

Holcman plans eventually to incorporate his observations in a 1,000-page study of 20th century keyboard technique, as a guide to students and teachers. "Many musicians and critics don't know what they like," he says. "I myself made cardinal errors in criticism before perfecting my machine. I want to provide a new basis for judgment."

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