They say we have to wait until the day X - then Charles
Chaplin's
films are sure to be shown again in cinemas, and those who do not
come late will be able to read it in the opening credits. The brilliant
film comedian had at least one point in common with Richard Wagner:
He also composed the music for the entire work of art himself. Only
confirmed Chaplin fans know, however, that before his breakthrough
in films the master (if one can believe his own statements) had
serious ambitions of performing as a concert soloist with violoncello
and violin.
The demands were high, the investments substantial: During the many
years of lessons his daily practice was carried out conscientiously
- a minimum of four hours and not seldom six hours. With the ability
admired in vaudeville acts to overcome all sorts of problems without
compromise, the left-hander had his cello and violin modified. His
playing from the opposite side required the, already then, costly
work of opening the instruments to reposition the bass bar and sound
post as well as numerous other modifications. However, as in the
case of the inventor of the theory of relativity, Albert Einstein,
whose question about the quality of his violin-playing was answered
by the cellist,
Gregor Piatigorsky, with "relatively good", success as
a stringed-instrument virtuoso also remained beyond the reach of
the comedian. This, however, was not to keep him from establishing
a music publishing firm in 1916, before his film success, printing
the song composed by him, "Oh! That cello", and closing
down the business carried out in a slapstick manner after publishing
two additional songs.
CHAPLIN'S
OWN WORDS: "Bert Clark, an excellent pianist, persuaded to
become his partner in the music business. We rented a room, printed
2000 copies and "waited for customers. The enterprise ended
on a rather sad note. I think we sold three copies, one to the American
composer, Charles Cadman, and two to passers-by who came past our
office on the way down." However, the film success which came
later offered the allaround genius the opportunity of making use
of his musical talents as a cellist and composer. He played his
melodies for the arrangers who then worked on the music according
to the occasion and their own,taste.
The
CDs issued by the Bremen label of JARO, CHARLIE CHAPLIN - "Oh!
That Cello", and Thomas-Beckmann-Charlie Chaplin shine the
first Chaplin's "string" ambitions.
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The
three songs published in 1916 and a selection of film music songs,
some of which later became famous all over the world, were recorded
on this album as they might' ave sounded
in the original Chaplin version: with cello and piano accompaniment.
Included are, among others, "Limelight", the improvisational
"Coffee and cakes", "Bonjour Madame", whose theme
is remarkably similar to the cello sonatas of Richard Strauss, but
also several other songs which have not yet appeared in print and
which came into being through the complation of the handwritten notes
after costly, worldwide research.
The
title song, "Oh! That Cello", presented a special problem:
its existence was not known to the musical experts of the Chaplin
community of heirs; the original print, having the rarity value of
the blue Mauritius, is, however, in the possession of the Chaplin
archives of Wilhelm Staudinger in Frankfurt.
The
final result is a recording with - for many perhaps surprising - often
melancholy melodies full of longing and of moving simplicity (Spring
Songf)
This
first attempt undertaken in this direction appears even more remarkable
in the light of Chaplin's following words on the subject: "I
tried to compose elegant and romantic music in order to give my comedies
a setting that contrasted with the character of the tramp. Elegant
music provided an
emotional dimension to my comedies. The musical arrangers seldom understood
this. They wanted the music to be funny. However, I explained to them
that I did not want competition but that the music was to be a counterpoint
of grace and charm, that it should express feeling, without which,
as Hazlitt said, a work of art remains incomplete.
Sometimes a musician would try to start a big discussion with me about
the diminished intervals of the chromatic or diatonic scale, but then
I would interrupt him like a layman: ,Whatever the music expresses,
the rest is only accompaniment.'
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