Josef Marx Recital

Josef Marx, his obos reed seemingly tucked between John L. Lewis eyebrows and a cropped white beard, looks very like a Rabellaisian mandarin one might see displayed (a la jade figurine) in the window of an ancient Chinese antique shoppe. Marx's very presence as a performer, and the natoriety of his unorthodox tone, had steeled many in the audience for an onslaught. As the first few notes burst from the bell of his oboe the remaining faces, already beginning to harden into that controlled boredom of the concert-goer's mask, registered something between discomfort and shock.

A robel against the current fad which dictates a syrupy clarinet-like sound, Marx seeks an oboe tone that is vibrant, reedy, and flexible. He liberally scorns the rank and file of American oboists who seem ashamed to play on double reeds, using, in their overweening desire for a heavy rich tone, thick reeds which hamper the development of virtuoso technique, and limit the player's freedom to phrase and vary his tone color. Obviously, Marx has no concern for playing with music, or for producting a smooth fat sound that he can drag along from note to note.

Marx overreacts. But if he exaggerated Wednesday night, if a brassy harshness seemed sometimes out of place (as in the second movement of the Wolpe Sonata), the artistry of his technique and aptness of his musical sense overcame the initial resistance of all but the most stolid in Wednesday night's audience.

In the Zelenka Sonata #2 for two oboes and continuo, a piece much superior to the standard baroque trio sonata, Marx and his brilliant student, Judith Martin, offered support for their tonal theories. Its second move movement, a double fugue, presents two themes quite different in character. Characteristically, when Marx introduced the second theme, far more lyrical than the first, he suddenly switched to a quiet singing tone. This constituted the finest moment of ensemble work, for Marx at other times overpowered Miss Martin, whose style of playing is generally more gentle and feminine. Had Marx, with his command of such varying tone qualities, adjusted more to her style, the overall ensemble should of the Zelenka might have been more consistent and unified.

Happily, Harvey Sollberger's "Two Oboes Troping"--composed specifically for these two instrumentalists--neutralized this fault, almost transforming it into a virtue. The long sustained notes of Miss Martin's part displayed her beautiful singing quality to best advantage, whereas Marx's part was filled with strongly accented staccatos that typify his own favorite phrasing style. The contrast of two different personalities, the tension of musical dialogue, made this the most intriguing work of the evening. While both were playing so well apart, their execution of difficult rhythmical passages and subtle ensemble effects proved they could also play well together. It is high tribute to Marx as a teacher that Miss Martin has developed a musical personality so different from his own.

Pianist Charles Wuorinen's solo "Variations," a frantic and exhausting work, did more than demonstrate his incredible virtuosity at the keyboard. Single, timid treble notes undercut the frenetic, tempestuous rumblings of the bass keys as if the composer were sardonically mocking his own contemporary style. Radical shifts in volume and highly irregular rests produced an extraordinarily witty beginning to a piece which seemed to grow in creasingly bitter.

Stephen Wolpe's Oboc Sonata seemed to me the only disappointment of the concert, though Marx's sprightly staccato attacks of the first movement, and a regal unison with Wuorinen which opened the third, were among the evening's most exciting moments. The piece is too long, however, and redundant; too frequently Marx seemed to shriek in the high register or growl in the vulgar buzzsaw sound for which he has been criticized.

Perhaps in the simple Rennaissance Bicinia (duets fashioned from the top two voices of five-part madrigals) Marx was at his best, changing the quality of his tone according to the needs of the movement. For finally, when considered within the context of a mature integrated musical style, even Many's tone loses its sting. He doesn't deny the importance of tone, but simply realizes its limitations as a source of beauty, and refuses to consider it the most important aspect of woodwind playing.

"A good tone is like a woman's breasts . . . So what?" For Marx, tone serves not itself but the piece. Sadly, because he has dared to follow his own musical instincts, to evolve a unique, uncommonly virile style, he has been ready target for attack from saccharine "commuter oboists" who, trapped in their concern for playing prettily, will never play beautifully.