too short
to spend it wandering in the barren Saharas of musical trash.

THE VITAL SPARK

In all good pianoforte playing there is a vital spark that seems to make
each interpretation of a masterpiece--a living thing. It exists only for
the moment, and cannot be explained. For instance, two pianists of equal
technical ability may play the same composition. With one the playing is
dull, lifeless and sapless, with the other there is something that is
indescribably wonderful. His playing seems fairly to quiver with life.
It commands interest and inspires the audience. What is this vital spark
that brings life to mere notes? In one way it may be called the intense
artistic interest of the player. It is that astonishing thing known as
inspiration.

When the composition was originally written the composer was
unquestionably inspired; when the performer finds the same joy that the
composer found at the moment the composition came into existence, then
something new and different enters his playing. It seems to be
stimulated and invigorated in a manner altogether marvelous. The
audience realizes this instantly, and will even sometimes forgive
technical imperfections if the performance is inspired. Rubinstein was
technically marvelous, and yet he admitted making mistakes.
Nevertheless, for every possible mistake he may have made, he gave, in
return, ideas and musical tone pictures that would have made up for a
million mistakes. When Rubinstein was overexact his playing lost
something of its wonderful charm. I remember that upon one occasion he
was playing Balakireff's _Islamei_ at a concert. Something distracted
his attention and he apparently forgot the composition entirely; but he
kept on improvising in the style of the piece, and after about four
minutes the remainder of the composition came back to him and he played
it to the end correctly. This annoyed him greatly and he played the next
number upon the program with the greatest exactness, but, strange to
say, it lost the wonderful charm of the interpretation of the piece in
which his memory had failed him. Rubinstein was really incomparable,
even more so perhaps because he was full of human impulse and his
playing very far removed from mechanical perfection.

While, of course, the student must play the notes, and all of the notes,
in the manner and in the time in which the composer intended that they
should be played, his efforts should by no means stop with notes. Ever