E.Power Biggs Attempts a Keyboard
E. Power Biggs (1906-1977), the famous English concert organist, was interested
in Americana and musical technology, so when, in 1956, the 200th anniversary of
Mozart's birth and 250th anniversary of Ben Franklin's birth coincided, Biggs
decided to perform Mozart's music on Franklin's invention. Biggs was convinced
that the Mozart works could only be played on a keyboard version of the
(glass harmonica), and
decided to perform the Mozart works on such an instrument for the
anniversary.
Here follows an excerpt from
E. Power Biggs, Concert Organist
, by Barbara Owen (Indiana Univ Pr, 1987, pg. 106–111) that recounts the
story of Biggs "keyboard (glass harmonica) "...
"His voluminous correspondence and library research began early in 1955,
and one of his first discoveries was that while Franklin's own keyboardless
Armonica still existed in a Philadelphia residence, not one keyboard version or
fragment thereof survived anywhere. This, of course, was the instrument Biggs
was most interested in, since he believed that the music by Mozart could not be
played without a keyboard version. When hopes of finding a restorable antique
faded, Biggs persuaded the American Academy of Arts and Sciences to sponsor the
construction of one, and the Academy in turn interested the Franklin Savings
Bank in financing the project. One of the Academy's members, Harlow Shapley of
the Harvard Observatory, caught Biggs's enthusiasm and became a willing
accomplice to his research and fund-raising activities.
"Work got under way in the spring of 1955, with the deadline for
completion a year away. By November the glasses were finished, and Biggs and
Schlicker [a preeminent organ builder] went to the Corning plant the following
month to assist in their tuning. By January the glasses were being fitted to
the mechanism in Schlicker's shop, and the problems began showing up. Corning's
glasses seem to have been partly at fault. When Schlicker visited the original
Franklin instrument in Philadelphia he found that the old glasses were thinner,
especially in the treble, and thus easier to make speak. Corning's glasses were
also somewhat irregular in shape. In addition, the rubber mounting turned out
to be too soft and had to be replaced with wood; and it was discovered that the
smaller glasses had to be rotated faster than the larger ones. Finding a
suitable covering for the mechanical "fingers" that played the
glasses from the keyboard also proved problematic. Wet pigskin and dry rubber
gave the best (though slightly differing) effects, but neither was as good as
human fingers. And of course there was that nemesis of all musical glasses,
breakage. Biggs was still optimistic but, as he confided to John Burchard,
president of the Academy, he was also "touching wood, holding on tight, and
keeping my fingers crossed."
"A concert featuring the new armonica and (fortunately, as it turned out)
other instruments was scheduled for April 11, 1956 at the Kresge Auditorium of
the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. By March 24 there was a note of
urgency, even desperation, in Biggs's correspondence with Schlicker. Biggs had
planned to come to Buffalo on the 28th "to record a few sounds" for a
broadcast, but "as far as a fair chance for me to learn how to play the
instrument we're way past it!" The Academy wanted the instrument on
hand by April 3 in order to unveil it to the press. If they could not have it
by then, "the concert will have to take place without it, and our work
will have come to nothing, for the anniversary occasion will have passed."
"The instrument arrived in time, and the concert went on, a program of
works by Franklin and Mozart, performed by Biggs, six members of the Boston
Symphony Orchestra, and the popular tenor, Roland Hayes. Biggs wisely brought
the Cambridge Portative [a small portable pipe organ], on which he played not
only Mozart's Fantasia in F and four of the "Epistle" Sonatas, but
also the armonica part of Mozart's Adagio and Rondo for Armonica, flute, oboe,
viola and cello. Although Biggs gave a preliminary demonstration of the
principle of "glass music" on eight tuned glasses, the armonica
itself was used only for three "Divertimenti" a Minuet from an
armonica tutor, an Irish folksong that had been a favorite of Captain Pockrich,
and Mozart's short Adagio for Glass Armonica. The tone of the new armonica was
wobbly and erratic, and was frequently accompanied by gratuitous squeaks and
scrapes. As one of the students later observed, it "wasn't quite a flop,
but almost!"
"The discouraging performance at the concert may have had something to do
with the Franklin Savings Bank's sudden loss of interest in the project,
leaving the Academy and Biggs to hunt up a donor to make up the deficit caused
by Schlicker's extra costs in trying to perfect the mechanism. Biggs and
Shapely were discouraged, but not quite ready to give up. Just enough publicity
had been given the experiment to generate requests from orchestras, chamber
music groups, radio, and television for concerts involving the armonica.
"Unfortunately", wrote Biggs to Ralph Burhoe, another Academy
official, "in every case the answer has had to be no, because the one test
of success is whether the Mozart Adagio and Rondo can be played on the Glass
Armonica!" He still had hopes that it might be perfected, though, for,
"It's certain that if the Glass Armonica were successful it would fill a
unique niche, and have continuing interest and use over a number of years."
"In the summer of 1956, Biggs received a request from his old friend
Harold Spivacke of the Library of Congress for the use of the armonica in a
December program linked to the Mozart/Franklin anniversaries. Biggs doubted
that the instrument would be any improved by then and candidly outlined the
problems: the glasses themselves were too thick and not perfectly circular, and
more research was needed on the "finger" material. Between $3,000 and
$4,000 had already been expended on the instrument [equivalent to about
$17,000 to $23,000 in 1995 dollars] , and while the Academy hoped to coerce
Corning into making a new set of glasses at no cost, Corning decided that it
wanted nothing more to do with the project. The harpsichord makers Hubbard and
Dowd suggested making a striking mechanism to operate the stationary glasses,
but since the musical result would have been more that of a glassichord or
celesta, this idea was quickly abandoned.
"In a last desperate attempt to salvage the project, the armonica was
turned over to a "think tank" of MIT engineering students.
Concentrating first on sound production, the students found that their fingers,
dipped in vinegar, still produced the best effect. Other substances and means
of exciting the glasses, from violin bows to electronics, were tried without
success. Nothing very conclusive emerged, and most of the students felt that
the contraption was better as Franklin had left it, without the keyboard.
One was optimistic enough to suggest that "With unlimited funds, it would
serve the memory of Franklin well to establish a research project to
investigate the use of different bowl and exciting materials and build an
accurately engineered Armonica." But the "unlimited funds" were
nowhere to be seen. In 1958, at Biggs's suggestion, Shapley approached Henry
Ford II regarding the possibility that the glass-blower at Greenfield Village
might be able to produce better bowls than Corning had, but nothing came of
that either.
"In 1965, answering an inquiry from Leonard Labaree, editor of the
Franklin papers, Biggs gave a short and rather dispassionate account of the
armonica venture. While the word "failure" was not in his vocabulary,
Biggs did have to admit that "our experiment was quite inconclusive,"
and, with regard to his performance of Mozart's Adagio, K356, "one cannot
claim that the tone did any sort of justice to the music." His vision of
what might have been was still intact, though, and at the end of his letter he
wrote, a bit wistfully,
'Mozart's Adagio and Rondo, K617, which we had hoped to give with such a
flourish, was played on the flute stops of the organ. The sound of a delicate
flute stop, incidentally, rather resembles that of a glass armonica. Though it
lacks, of course, the effect of coming from nowhere, and the slow dying away
into silence, which is a quite magical effect with the glasses.'
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