not a succession of jerks, but is basically a steady flow, a regular succession of similar impulses, the word rhythm itself coming from a Greek stem meaning "flow." Like all other good things, this theory of continuous movement may be carried to excess, and one occasionally sees conducting that has so much "back-stroke" that there is no definiteness of beat whatsoever; in other words there is no "bottom" to the beat, and consequently no precision in the conducting. But on the other hand, there is to be observed also a great deal of conducting in which the beats seem to be thought of as imaginary points, the conductor apparently feeling that it is his business to get from one to another of these points in as straight a line as possible, and with no relaxation of muscle whatever. Such conductors often imagine that they are being very definite and very precise indeed in their directing, and have sometimes been heard to remark that the singers or players whom they were leading seemed exceedingly stupid about following the beat, especially in the attacks. The real reason for sluggish rhythmic response and poor attacks is, however, more often to be laid at the door of a poorly executed beat by the conductor than to the stupidity of the chorus or orchestra.[1]
- ↑ It is but a step from the conclusions arrived at above to a corollary relating to conducting from the organ bench. How does it happen that most choirs directed by an organist-conductor do not attack promptly, do not follow tempo changes readily, and do not in general present examples of good ensemble performance? Is it not because the organist is using his hands and feet for other purposes, and cannot therefore indicate to his singers the "continuous flow of rhythm" above referred to? When a conductor directing with a baton wishes to indicate a ritardando, he does so not merely by making the beats follow one another at longer intervals, but even more by making a more elaborate and more extensive movement between the beat culminations; and the musicians have no difficulty in following the baton, because it is kept continuously in motion, the points where the muscular contractions come being easily felt by the performers, because they can thus follow the rhythm in their own muscles by instinctive imitation. But when the organist-conductor wishes a ritardando, he merely plays more slowly, and the singers must get their idea of the slower tempo entirely through the ear. Since rhythm is a matter of muscle rather than of ear, it will be readily understood that conducting and organ-playing will never go hand in hand to any very great extent. There is, of course, another reason for the failure of many organists who try to play and conduct simultaneously, viz., that they are not able to do two things successfully at the same time, so that the chorus is often left to work out its own salvation as best it may; while, if the conducting is done by using the left hand, the organ end of the combination is not usually managed with any degree of distinction. Because of this and certain other wellknown reasons, the writer believes that choral music in general, and church music in particular, would be greatly benefited by a widespread return to the mixed chorus, led by a conductor with baton in hand, and accompanied by an organist.
